Ben looked back to the plateau. There was something that bothered him; in his travels, he found few incidences of the Titanoboa in the jungles. The massive snakes seemed to prefer it up on the plateau. Or something kept them up there.
Ben knew he’d have to move on soon. He’d already stayed here longer than he should have. It was like a sixth sense that told him he wasn’t safe anymore.
He wished he could go back to the ocean. Sure, it had its own vast menagerie of wonders and horrors, but he’d liked it there… until he was evicted. His mouth pulled up on one side as he remembered: the endless blue water, the fresh fish, and his only friend, Ralph.
“Still miss you, buddy.” He sighed and prepared to scale down, but paused, listening.
The hunters tracked the scent of the strange animal for miles. Its warm blood smell, its salty tang of sweat, and its exhalations were irresistible to them.
The lead theropod, a seven-foot-tall biped with toes that ended in scythe-like claws, paused, turning its head bird-like to listen to the sounds of the jungle. The thing they hunted was close, they could smell it strongly now, but strangely, it was still out of sight.
The hunter crept forward, about to edge between two large tree trunks, when its three-toed foot snagged on some twine strung between them. Immediately, a horizontal branch whipped out, and along its length were sharpened spikes that came at it faster than the creature could react.
The theropod was frozen to the spot as the three-foot-long sharpened spikes were embedded deep into its gut, holding it in place.
High above it came a sound. It was the first time the hunters had ever heard it, and never would again — it was the sound of a human laughing.
CHAPTER 10
Cynthia Cartwright had let Emma use the family home to bring everyone together. It was the largest house in Greenberry, and the most discreet place she knew.
Emma saw the old woman talking softly and earnestly with the huge and formidable Drake Masterson. The big man held her tiny hand in one of his large paws and patted it, nodding as he listened. She could imagine her extracting promises from him to bring her son home. And Emma could also envisage him in return saying, and honestly, that he’d die trying.
Emma trusted and liked the big guy, and she was thankful he had agreed to lead them in. He gave her… confidence.
She guessed that now that the four ex-Special Forces guys knew there was even the slightest chance of Ben being alive, they probably would have gone in to get him for free, such was the bond within their fighting unit. But she knew that risking their lives needed compensation — she just hoped they all lived to enjoy it.
The soldiers were like a different species to the others in the room. All were huge, wide, and loud. The redheaded Fergus O’Reilly joked with his buddy Brocke Anderson, whose blinding white grin lit up the room. She wondered how he lost his earlobe — was it shot off or bitten off? Time would tell.
Brocke noticed her looking at him, lurched forward to pick up the coffee pot, and theatrically held it out to her; she smiled and shook her head. As he went to put it down, Fergus nudged him and held out his own cup.
Emma let her eyes slide to the biggest and youngest of their group — the still-sullen looking Ajax Benson. She made a mental note to speak to him, try and understand him. There was something he was keeping bottled up, and given where they were going, she didn’t want any underlying issues bubbling to the surface. As Ben told her once, small imps of the mind can grow to become monstrous demons once in a field of combat.
Combat? She snorted softly at the thought. It was ridiculous of her to think like that, but after surviving the plateau once, she had a right to feel a little battle hardened.
Andy and his sister Helen, Emma’s paleontological firepower, stood together by the fireplace and the pair chatted as Helen looked over the photograph collection on the hearth — she paid extra attention to the smiling face of Ben, as though trying to memorize his features.
Emma had a moment of doubt about her selection — the pair of scientists seemed too young and naive. She was about to throw them into a grinder they had no way of fully appreciating.
Over the years, Emma had grown armor plating, as well as a little single-minded ruthlessness in pursuit of her objective — rescuing Ben — nothing else mattered. The Special Forces guys looked like they ate barbed wire for breakfast, but these two… they looked more like they’d prefer to be eating smashed avocado on wheat toast and sipping soy latte at their favorite Bohemian café.
She girded herself; they were picked because they could help her bring Ben home — end of story. She’d lay out the risks and then they could choose to go or stay. She still had time to replace them.
She swallowed; it was time to bring things to order. Emma cleared her throat. “Morning, everyone.” She smiled and looked at their faces as the group turned toward her.
She first crossed to Cynthia and took her by the arm, leaning closer. “I’m going to talk to the team now. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
The small woman suddenly seemed to steel herself. “You’re going to talk about rescuing my Ben, our Ben. I want to hear.” She looked behind her and pointed to her favorite chair. Fergus sat in it. “I’ll just sit quietly and listen.”
Emma raised an eyebrow at the redheaded man and he immediately stood, made a show of wiping the chair seat down, and then turned to bow. Emma led Cynthia to it and helped her sit, poured her another tea, and put a small slice of her favorite orange sponge cake on a tiny blue and white plate.
Emma then moved to one of the large walls beside the fireplace and took down a few of the pictures, leaving it blank. On the table, she turned on the projector sitting there and plugged it into a laptop computer. Behind her, the wall lit up.
The first image appeared, and she stood with handheld remote and folded her arms. It was a picture of South America showing a red dot on the edge of the Canaima National Park.
“Where I, we, began our expedition.” She breathed deeply. “Almost ten years ago to the day.”
“Begging your pardon, Emma.” Drake Masterson turned in his chair. “But how did you know to start there?”
She expected the question. “We had maps, a notebook, and a legend to follow. And I know what you’re going to ask next; no, we don’t have all of those resources anymore. They were all lost.”
“But I guess the legend remains,” Andy added.
“Yeah, that’s a good start,” Fergus said. “And given the Amazon is over three million square miles in size, it shouldn’t take us any time at all to find what we’re looking for.” He winked at Brocke.
Ajax snorted and shifted his huge bulk. “Who cares? We bumble around in the jungle for a week; maybe some schmuck gets sick, or injured, maybe even killed. Then we all come home with money in the bank.” He looked at her. “By the way, if the schmuck that happens to get killed is you, I want to make sure we’ll still get paid.”
Drake Masterson glared at him, but Emma stared the young man down. “You’ll be paid. And you all have something else that we didn’t have the first time.” She looked at each of their faces.
“You have someone who was there, who survived, and who can tell you what to look for, and even better, what to look out for.” She eyeballed Ajax. “Happy?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned and saluted with two fingers.
“Good. And over the years, I’ve drawn maps and made notes from my memory… several maps.” She progressed the images to another view of the jungle that was taken from a lower level, this one starting on the Rio Caroní River.