Z. Raptor (8 page)

Adam raised his eyebrows. “And the velociraptors aren't?”

“Sometimes they kill. But mostly they catch people, keep them locked up, make them do stuff.” She started rowing, rangy muscles bunching and gliding on her skinny arms. “Loner says they make them slaves or something.”

“Loner's really helping you?”

“He's not like the other Vels. He's smarter, you know? A better talker.” She shrugged. “Maybe that's why he's tried to look out for us.”

Adam put his head in his hands. “And does Loner have any idea why Geneflow put two lots of mega-evolved raptors on some tiny island and left them to it?”

“For fun?” Harm's voice dripped with sarcasm. “David says it's got to be some kind of experiment.”

“David?”

“He's taken charge of our group. Used to be a teacher—leading the class is in his blood, I guess.” She pointed to another oar at the side of the boat. “Come on, help. I still don't know if you're on the level, but David needs to hear what you've got to say.”

“Okay.” Adam took the oar, tested his muscles and didn't like the result. “Can't we turn the engine back on?”

“Too risky. Anything would hear us coming.”

Adam looked over at the island coastline. It was deceptively calm and peaceful. He thought he saw something move among the trees, a shift of red scales, brilliant sunlight flashing off a monstrous claw.

Then, nothing.

Raptors on the land and monsters in the sea,
he reflected.
Between them, we're truly trapped.

Shivering, Adam paddled harder through the turquoise waters, as if the physical strain could drive the dread-filled thoughts from his mind.

A
fter half an hour of sweaty, sunburned effort, Harm put down her oar. Adam saw a weathered pillar of concrete rising from the water beside a rocky outcrop—a sign that here the sea was deep enough for a larger boat to attempt a mooring.

“This is the landing point. It's close to our latest camp.” Harmony stared into the trees. “But Lisa said she saw Brutes around here yesterday.”

“What kind of dinosaurs are the Brutes?” Adam asked.

“You sure got a thirst for knowledge, don't you?” She went on scrutinizing the scenery. “
Utahraptor
is what Loner said. But David and I decided that Brute was a better name.”

“Utah? As in the state?”

“Yep. That's where I'm from too. Ogden, Weber County.” Harm stretched her arms, massaging the muscles after their workout. “The Wasatch Mountains seem a long way away now. I always figured that would be a good thing. Spent most of my life waiting to leave.”

Adam nodded. “And three months ago, you did, right?”

“I'm fifteen, but I've got a fake ID says that I'm seventeen,” Harm explained. “I was on a plane, with Lisa and David and a whole bunch of others. The pilot said something went wrong. He put us down here.”

“On this tiny island in the middle of nowhere?”

“There's a runway and a couple of roads. Left over from World War II or something.” A haunted look stole into her eyes. “The pilot took off again without us. Before we'd even seen what was lying in wait here. Guess we'll never know why.”

“So this place is on some airline's flight path?” Adam felt faint hope stir his insides. “Where were you headed?”

“The airstrip's been destroyed since then,” Harm said curtly. “Blown to bits; nothing can land there now. So don't get your hopes up.” Abruptly she picked up the oar and started propelling the RIB toward the rock-pile jetty. “Enough talk already. I
think
the way's clear.”

With that qualifier hanging large in his mind, Adam joined in with the rowing.

As they pulled up alongside the jetty, he kept breaking off to feel the back of his neck and shoulder, wincing as he did so.

“Brutes sprayed you, huh?” Harm whispered, looping a mooring rope over a wooden post. “You're lucky you washed it off pretty fast. Brutes spit that stuff from their guts. It's acid, turns flesh and bone to slush. Means they can eat just about anything. No waste.”

“Did you ever think about becoming a tour guide, Harmony?” Adam said. “You really make a place come alive.”

“Better hope this particular place stays dead a little longer.” She shot him a sideways glance. “And I told you—it's Harm.”

“I know.” He shrugged and smiled. “Sounds kind of dangerous.”

She didn't smile back. “Mess with me, and it will be.”

Adam climbed out of the lifeboat after her. The jetty creaked and shifted alarmingly, but held their weight as they moved onto a sandy, grassy path that wound up a steep hillside. Harm was walking barefoot; thick calluses cushioned her feet. She stopped to pull a plant from a rock and shove it into her mouth.

“What's that?”

“Food. Sea purslane. Want some?”

He shook his head.

“Choosy, huh?” She wiped her mouth and an almostsmile caught at her lips. “We'll see how long that lasts.”

“Is that why you were away from your camp? You were foraging for stuff?” Adam asked. “Like a Girl Scout?”

Harm looked at him. “What, you don't get why a fifteen-year-old girl was sent to do a
man's
work?”

“No!” Adam protested. Then he shrugged. “Well, maybe a bit.”

Abruptly, Harm left the path and started scaling the rugged hillside as easily as a spider would climb a wall. She reached a narrow rocky ledge and pulled herself up and onto it with a gymnast's grace. Then she pulled off a handful of plants, shoved them into the satchel she carried and swiftly made the return journey. A little out of breath but with pride in her eyes, she looked at him. “You get it now?”

Adam was impressed. “I get it.”

He kept alert, looking all around as they climbed to higher ground. The sun was as hot as it was bright. The humid air carried no birdsong, and there was no breeze to stir the trees. There was no sign of life at all. As he and Harm pressed on into the jungle, he found himself flinching from pretty much every rustle and crack. But Harm only paused a few times before deciding it was safe to move along.

“How many raptors are on the island?” he whispered.

“Enough,” Harm said, studying scratch marks in a coconut tree. “The island's about five kilometers square, and there's maybe forty raptors in total.”

Adam blanched. “As many as that?”

“Used to be more. But they kill each other.” She shrugged. “Kind of like enemy tribes, I guess.”

Suddenly a grating whistle sounded from the long grass ahead of them. Adam froze, sweat prickling over his body, and looked to Harm. She held up a cautious hand to him, a mass of calluses. And then a huge bird ran out, easily two meters tall, its little head bobbing about at the end of a long, scrawny neck. Its body was a black, feathered oval with tail feathers speckling to gray, and its long pink legs ended in two-pronged claws.

Adam let out a shaky breath. “Is that an ostrich?”

“Uh-huh.” Harm nodded, holding back as the bird bobbed past. “Kind of weird, huh? David says you only find them wild in Africa. So they must've been brought here with the dinosaurs.”

“There are lots of them?”

“Lots of one,” Harm answered, and seemed pleased at his puzzled face. “See that white patch on the tail feathers? Every last one of these birds has an identical mark. David says they must've been grown from the same cells or something.”

“Clones,” breathed Adam. “Geneflow must've put them out here as part of their experiment.”

“David's gonna love you.” Harm shook her head. “Coming up with all these questions and theories.”

He gave a tentative smile. “Question: can I have some more of that water?”

“Theory: you have a death wish.”

If I have,
thought Adam grimly,
I've been brought to the right place.

They pressed on through the sun-spattered glades. Adam was grateful to the thick fronds of the coconut palms for their shelter, even as the same questions buzzed uselessly through his head.
Where is my dad right now? Is Chen still alive? What is Geneflow trying to achieve?

“Wait here,” Harm told him quietly, selecting a coconut shell from the ground. She tapped it loudly, rapidly against a tree trunk. A high, hollow echo rang out and was answered a few seconds later by an identical signal, sounding through the silent forest. “All right, we're cool. Come on.”

Adam followed her with rising nerves to where a man and a woman stood wraithlike in the clearing. The man was lean and rangy, clothed in the ragged remains of jeans and a checked shirt. His dark beard was flecked with gray, and a denim sun hat sat on his head. At the sight of Adam, he reached for a well-used machete at his waist.

“No, it's all right,” Harm told him quickly. “Don't hurt him, he's about all I brought back with me.” She held up the bottle of water. “Apart from this.”

The man lowered the machete and took the bottle from her almost reverently. “Well done,” he murmured. He popped the cap and passed it to Lisa, who drank greedily. He then quickly pulled the bottle from her and took a smaller swig himself, sighing as he did so. Only then did he eye Adam. “So . . . you're one of the survivors from the wreck.”

Adam nodded. “You must be David?”

“David Wilder.”

“And you . . .” Adam turned to the woman, thin, blond and hard-faced, and realized he'd seen her before. “Lisa Brannigan?”

Lisa reacted as if waking from a dream. “What? How would you know—”

“I've seen the video,” Adam told her. “Loner got it to Jeremy Marrs at the ethics place.”

“He did it.” Lisa ran over to Adam, who tried not to flinch from the smell of her. “I never really believed he could!”

“Adam here knows all about Geneflow too,” Harm added.

David came forward too, hope sparking in his eyes. “How many troops are coming? Where are they?”

Lisa squeezed Adam's hand like a kid ready to cross the road. “Are they going to get us out of here?”

Adam felt the weight of the survivors' stares. He looked nervously at Harm, and she spoke for him. “Adam came with an FBI guy, weapons, and people to use them.” She took a deep breath. “But he's the only one I've seen alive, and the guns could be anywhere.”

Adam watched as David and Lisa's faces fell hard enough to bruise.

“So all we've really got,” David muttered at length, “is another mouth to feed. A kid to look after.”

“I don't need looking after,” Adam shot back.

“Why would the FBI send a child anyway?” David pointed a finger at him. “Are you telling us the truth?”

“My dad and I know about Geneflow's dinosaur experiments,” Adam informed him. “They kidnapped us both last summer, and—” He bit his tongue before he could add,
and now some crazy FBI agent's done the same thing
. He couldn't bring himself to stamp on these people's last hopes. “Look, there's another ship out there, at sea,” Adam went on. “My dad's on board with more men and more weapons, I bet. He'll be trying to get to me.”

“No ship can get past the sea creatures,” said David tersely. “It's like they're trained to attack anything that comes too close. But . . . if the UN and the FBI are involved, they could send an airlift or something, right?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, smiling weakly.
Except the FBI man came on his own
,
and the UN has no idea what is happening right now
. “We just have to hold tight.”

“Sorry, honey.” Lisa smiled uncertainly at Adam, touched his arm as if afraid he would disappear. “It's not easy in this place. But I guess we can't stop hoping for miracles now.”

“We should search the area where Adam came ashore,” said Harm. “Other survivors might have weapons, or—”

She broke off as a whooshing, clattering noise carried through the forest. David and Lisa stood rigid.

“What is it?” Adam asked.

“Early warning,” Lisa muttered.

“Jungle vine trip wire, tied to a bundle of sticks,” David elaborated, crossing to a coconut tree and forming a stirrup with his hands. “If the sticks fall over, we know we've got company.”

Harm stepped into his hands and propelled herself upward, hugging the trunk and climbing with the flats of her feet against the rough bark. Within seconds she had penetrated the thick leaves that crowned the palm, their wide, fleshy stalks supporting her weight. Seconds later, she came down the trunk like a firefighter sliding down a pole, eyes wide and panic-stricken.