Emma had her own gun drawn and turned to look out into the impenetrable cloud. “We never got close to them. But we saw them in the skies. Pterosaurs.”
“Terror-what?” Ajax yelled back, his lips curled.
“Flying dinosaurs,” Andy replied. “Well, flying reptiles actu—”
“They can fucking fly?” Ajax just shook his head, and everyone turned back to the cloud.
“Why does the cloud suddenly seem creepier now I know that?” Brocke said, chuckling nervously.
“How big are they? Will they attack us?” Drake asked, trying to see through the billowing mist.
“They were undoubtedly territorial,” Andy replied. “And some of them were very big.”
“Bigger than a condor or albatross?” Brocke asked.
“Well, the sea-going albatross has the largest wingspan of any living bird today,” Andy began. “They can spread wings up to twelve feet, tip to tip. But they usually only weigh in at under twenty six pounds.”
Helen turned. “But there were species of pterosaur that were literally flying giants. They weighed in at seven hundred pounds, and one of them, the Arambourgiania, had a wingspan of over forty feet, and on the ground would have stood taller than a giraffe.”
“Okay, so big then,” Brocke stated, nodding.
“Good. ‘Cause, the bigger they are, the bigger the target.” Ajax grinned cruelly.
And the bigger they are, the more damage they can do to the balloon, Drake thought. He spoke over his shoulder. “Fergus, give me another ten-second blast. I don’t want one of those flying giraffes crashing into us.”
It was too late. An enormous shadow came out of the swirling mist and materialized as a leathery vision from hell. It hit the side of the basket and clung there like an obscene bat. A massive wedge-shaped head, furious red eyes, and a beak three feet long lined with backward-pointing teeth lunged inside.
Screams, yells, and the screeching of something from Earth’s dawn caused a chaotic panic in the crowded basket.
It’s a man in a Halloween mask, Drake thought insanely. For the first time in decades, he felt the electric jolt of pure fear run through him. It looked like a giant man in a leathery suit and weird ugly mask that was clinging to the side of their basket. And the bastard must have been heavy as it dragged down one of their sides.
“Out of the way!” Drake yelled as he ducked and weaved, gun up, trying to take a shot.
Juan screamed as the beak opened and snapped shut on his arm, and then tugged. His feet came off the ground, and Brocke dived and grabbed one of his ankles. Emma did the same to the other leg and a tug of war ensued for a few seconds.
“Hit the deck,” Drake yelled.
Camilla, Helen, and Andy dove to the floor, and gunfire rang out as Ajax, Brocke, and Drake poured dozens of rounds into the thing. Blood spurted, the screech turned to a scream of pain as the massive creature let go, and Juan fell back to the floor of the basket, wailing and gripping a torn arm.
Emma jumped up and peered over the side in time to see the huge body fall away in the swirling cloud.
“Jesus Christ,” Fergus yelled. “A fucking monster.”
Drake still had his gun pointed out at the boiling fog as more huge shadows began to loom.
“Fergus, get us out of here, now.”
Fergus pulled hard on the throttle lever, and gas jetted out like a dragon’s roar. The balloon jerked upward so fast it made the group hunker down to maintain their balance.
Emma gripped one of the ropes to stay upright and also had her M4 carbine under her arm and her legs braced. Between Drake, herself, Brocke, and Ajax, they had all four quadrants covered, and in another few moments, the looming shadows were left behind.
“I see sky,” Fergus yelled.
“Thank the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,” Camilla stammered.
Emma saw she was holding a cloth against Juan’s arm that was already stained scarlet. Her lips moved in silent prayer.
“Let me help.” Helen scooted over and peeled it back. “Okay.” She pulled out the first-aid kit.
Emma knelt beside her. “Bad?” She saw underneath the man was a growing stain of dark blood on the basket’s wicker flooring.
“Gonna need stitches, and… ” she rummaged, “… yes, we have a needle and thread in the kit.”
Helen went back to feeling up and down the lacerated arm. “Doesn’t feel like a break, so that’s a good thing. Hold your breath.” She liberally poured iodine onto a cloth and wiped it over the gashes.
Juan grimaced and sucked in a breath.
“Can you move your fingers?” Helen asked.
The cameraman wiggled all five and nodded. “Yes.”
“That’s good; also means there’s probably no tendon damage.” She held a cloth on the wound and lunged forward to grab Camilla’s hand.
“Here, keep your hand pressed down here.” Once again, she rummaged through the kit. “Damn, no morphine, so… ”
She held out three oxycodone to Juan. “Take these. I’m going to have to stitch it and wrap it tight. You’re losing too much blood.”
“Yes, please, go ahead.” He threw down the tablets dry and swallowed several times to force them down. Juan then tugged the remains of his now tattered and very red sleeve up as high as he could manage.
Helen expertly threaded a needle with nylon twine, and then eased Camilla’s hand away. She squeezed the folds of ripped flesh together, pushed the needle right through, and then began to sew, pulling the ragged lips of the wound tightly closed as she went.
Juan’s brows came together and his lips pressed so hard they went white, but to his credit, he never made a sound.
In another few moments, she had bandaged it and then rubbed his shoulder. “Now that’s a scar with a story behind it.”
Juan held out his arm so Emma, Helen, and Camilla could pull him to his feet. He patted the bandage and wore a devilish smile. “I’m going to be famous.” He staggered for a moment. “Oops.”
“Easy, might be a little shock setting in.” Helen hung onto him.
Juan gripped her arm to steady himself. After a moment, he looked up into her face. “Thank you.” He held on, and the corner of his mouth turned up. “You are a very good woman. Are you single?”
Camilla groaned. “He’s back to his old self.”
Helen slapped his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just the oxy talking. Let me know if it gets itchy or the pain increases. We don’t know what that big guy might have left behind when it bit you.”
Blue sky opened above them, and sunlight streamed down on top of the balloon. Drake took one last look around, and then reholstered his gun. He eased forward to look out and upward, feeling the dry sunshine on his face for a moment, before facing down. As he did, he slipped a little on Juan’s blood on the basket floor. First chance he got, he’d clean that up. If Emma was right about there being big predators on the plateau, they didn’t want fresh blood spread over their home base.
Drake also saw that Juan was up cradling his arm, but his face was still pale. He came through it okay and didn’t think shock would be a problem. The Special Forces soldier looked over the side and down again — below them, the thick clouds were like a field of purple cotton. And within the boiling, angry mass, lightning forked to light up portions as though there were Christmas lights hidden in there somewhere.
“No way we’re dropping back down into that,” Ajax seethed. “Freaking nightmare.”
“What put you off?” Fergus grinned. “The zero visibility, high winds, or flying monsters?”
“Fuck you,” Ajax fumed.
“He’s right,” Drake observed. “Can’t chance dropping into that cauldron again.” As he watched, the entire mass slowly rotated, like dirty bathwater circling a plug.