that neither had to be asked to join their little rescue mission. They were good people, and good friends. “Ready to go?”
“Lead the way,” Bray said.
While Hawkins, Bray, and Joliet gathered by the door, Drake knelt down next to Jones. “We’ll get her back.”
Jones mumbled something.
“What was that?” Drake asked.
“I said,” Jones said, speaking loudly, “she’s already dead.”
Drake looked stunned. He just stared at Jones.
“Bullshit,” Hawkins said. “She was alive when it took her. That’s why you stopped me from shooting.”
“Would have been better if you’d shot her,” Jones said.
“How can you say that?” Joliet said. “She’s your daughter!”
“You didn’t see it!” Jones shouted.
Drake took Jones’s arm. “Dammit, Harry, what did you see?”
Jones’s turned to the captain. “I’m not sure. Something. Large. Fast. Its eyes. They were… human. But the rest… I don’t know. It was dark. But if you’d seen it, you’d know.” Tears filled his eyes. “She’s dead. My baby is dead.” He waggled a finger at Hawkins. “Ask him. He saw it.”
“I saw a shadow,” Hawkins corrected.
“But you
“I’ve seen enough,” Hawkins said. “
Jones just shook his head.
Hawkins nearly lost his patience with the man. No matter what he’d seen, how could he give up on his daughter? Hawkins opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “Let’s go.”
Drake gave Jones’s arm a squeeze and stood up. “We’ll find her.”
As Drake headed for the door, Jones shouted after him. “You’re all going to die out there! Don’t go, Jon. Don’t—”
Hawkins slammed the door closed, cutting off Jones’s voice.
“Don’t hold it against him,” Drake said. “He’s speaking out of fear. Jackie’s his world. He’ll be lost without her.”
Hawkins allowed his anger to melt away. He motioned to Bray and Joliet, but spoke to Drake. “Our packs are still ready to go from yesterday. If you want to get your pack ready, we’ll find some weapons.”
“Thanks for doing this,” Drake said. “It’s above and beyond. All three of you.”
“Thank us when we make it back,” Hawkins said. He wouldn’t admit it, but Jones had gotten to him. Still, there was little in nature that could take a few .44-caliber rounds and keep coming. He just needed time to pull the trigger. He turned and headed toward the stairs that would take him to the dive room and two high-powered spearguns. “We leave at first light.”
20.
The warmth of the new day and scent of flowers in the air did little to calm Hawkins’s nerves as he powered the Zodiac across the lagoon. He knew the picturesque setting concealed something much uglier, the evidence of which lay straight ahead, uncovered on the beach.
Hawkins angled the Zodiac away from the mass grave of deformed bodies. He beached the boat and the four passengers hauled it high up onto the sand. As Hawkins tied the Zodiac to a palm tree, Drake inspected the bodies.
“What kind of person would do this?” Drake said.
The captain spoke loud enough for all of them to hear, but Hawkins knew it was a rhetorical question, because none of them had an answer.
“We should cover them,” Bray said. “We forgot to yesterday.”
“We’ll lose daylight,” Drake said. “No time.”
“He’s right,” Hawkins said as he unloaded their gear—four backpacks with food, water, medical supplies, and assorted survival gear. He quickly checked over their weapons. They had four “heavy-hitting weapons”—Bray’s term—the fire ax, two pneumatic spearguns, and the rifle. They also brought several smaller weapons, including several knives and a can of pepper spray. The ax could be used again and again until the user grew tired, which is why Drake had requested it. The spearguns were high powered and out of the water would have ridiculous penetration power, but reloading took time as the air pressure needed to be recharged by a hand pump. Aiming the weapons would also be difficult, so they were weapons of last resort, to be fired up close and, most likely, just once. Bray and Joliet agreed to carry the spearguns.
Hawkins slung the rifle over his shoulder. With plenty of hunting experience under his belt thanks to Howie GoodTracks, Hawkins was the obvious choice. The Remington lever-action rifle held ten rounds, which was nice, but was considered a short-range weapon. The range didn’t concern Hawkins, though. The one-hundred-yard reach was far better than anything else in their arsenal and they weren’t likely to have a hundred-yard view once they entered the jungle. The only real drawback was that he had only ten extra rounds. Twenty shots total. Against one adversary, they’d be enough, but he wasn’t sure if they were dealing with a larger population. If they were, twenty rounds might not do the trick.
Hawkins looked at the crescent-shaped beach that wrapped around the lagoon. There was enough gray sand to conceal hundreds more bodies. The thought of it sent a chill up his back. Shaking off the image, Hawkins tossed a backpack to Bray. “The dead can wait. Time to go.”
He headed for the jungle’s edge while the others grabbed their gear. He slid past some brush and stepped into the canopy’s shade. The jungle seemed different. Not as quiet. He could hear things moving. Distant calls. They’d spooked the island’s natives when they’d first arrived, but the creatures had either grown accustomed to their presence or no longer considered them a threat after they’d been chased away by the draco-snakes.
Hawkins scanned the area, looking for the yellow- and black-banded creatures. Part of him hoped they would attack now. He’d much rather fight them with his energy high, weapon fully loaded, and the bright beach nearby if the fight went south and retreat was required. But he saw nothing but an endless sea of tree trunks, green leaves, and shifting light as the morning sun filtered through the foliage.
A hand clasped him on the shoulder. He turned to find Joliet smiling at him. “Ready to go, Ranger.”
He nodded. “Stay close. Only speak if you have to. We’ll rest at the switchbacks and not a moment sooner.” Hawkins took the lead as they entered the jungle. Drake brought up the rear. The group, all dressed in packed cargo shorts and T-shirts, would have looked like vacationers on a hike. The weapons they carried and looks of determination told a different story.
Hawkins kept their pace brisk and steady, but slowed every time he heard something move in the brush, or saw a shift of shadow from above. When they reached the switchbacks, he removed his backpack and helped himself to his canteen while the others caught up. Drake arrived moments later, a layer of sweat covering his forehead. But he seemed oblivious to the heat. His eyes remained wary and on the jungle.
“Have something to drink,” Hawkins told the captain.
Without taking his eyes off the jungle, Drake unclipped his canteen, took three long drinks, and put it back. The man’s vigilance never wavered.
Hawkins was glad to have him along. He really was a far better choice than Blok.
After a five-minute rest, Hawkins broke his bad news to the group. “We have a problem.”
“What is it?” Joliet asked.
