The pack leader darted in, its jaws snapping, and it took the tip of his nose. The other creatures took it as a sign and also began to nip and pick at him, taking fingers, small chunks of meat from his shoulders, chest, and other parts of his body.
They worked on him for many minutes, killing him slowly as they ate him alive. Their revenge was as sweet as his flesh.
Ben and his team moved as fast as they dared. Though the Troodon were formidable adversaries when hunting in packs, there were other huge predators that would obliterate them if they caught the tiny band of humans off guard.
All Ben could hope was that seeing the jungle was so dense and tightly tangled here, it would have made it difficult for larger predators to enter or at least chase them down.
At first, the signs of Nicolás being dragged were clear, but they became fainter and fainter, and then they vanished altogether. After another 20 minutes, Ben held up his hand.
“Stop.”
They piled up around him, guns pointed out at the mad, green tangle. It wasn’t silent anymore, as the living, breathing sounds of the jungle had restarted all around them. He knew then they’d lost the trail.
“He’s gone,” Chess said.
“Aw, shit.” Shawna’s mouth turned down hard.
“Quiet.” Ben tilted his head, listening. He thought he heard a scream, but he couldn’t be sure. He waited, but it wasn’t repeated. Then he heard nothing. Chess was right: the kid was gone.
“They knew what they were doing,” Drake said. “Going after Helen was only meant to draw us away; to distract us. They’d probably targeted Nicolás all along.”
“He was the only one that didn’t carry a weapon,” Shawna said.
They turned to look at her. Shit, she’s right, Ben thought. He turned to Helen. “Could they be that smart?”
Helen was still bent over, flushed and breathing hard. But after a moment, she looked up at him from under her brows. “An hour ago, I would have said no. But now… ” she shrugged.
Ben nodded and exhaled, feeling his anger build. He bared his teeth and kicked at a clod, sending it into the underbrush. “This fucking place.” He looked up. “We should never have let him come with us.”
“Yeah, well, that’s on you, Cartwright.” Chess’ lip curled. “The kid was as good as dead the moment you let him tag along.”
“No, he was always going to come with or without us,” Helen said. “It’s not his fault.”
“Bullshit. There’s a hundred ways you coulda stopped him from coming.” He pointed one large blunt finger at Ben’s chest. “Ask the kid’s corpse if he would have rather had a busted jaw or be eaten alive.”
Ben’s jaw jutted and he went to move in on Chess, but the mercenary just angled the barrel of his gun a little. “Uh uh, let’s not get dumb now, big fella.”
“Leave it.” Drake grabbed Ben’s shoulder. “Now’s not the time.” He turned his head slowly. “C’mon, we should move.”
Ben knew Drake was right. Much as he wanted to stomp Chess flat, right now he needed the asshole. “Yeah.” He looked out at the walls of the steaming jungle. “Sorry, Nicolás. I just hope… I just hope it was quick.”
Shawna stayed for a moment longer, one side of her mouth pulled up a little. “The nice ones always disappear.” She sighed. “Goodbye, Nicky.” She then followed them into the green.
Ben and the group trekked slowly, wary now of every shadow, broken twig, or swaying branch in the jungle. It was wearing them down and fatigue was turning the group on each other, and instead of remaining on high alert, they spent more time bitching at one another.
They needed a break, and soon. So it was with relief that they finally found a more open space in the jungle that was between two boulders on one side, tree trunks the size of redwoods on the other, and a thick green canopy overhead, with some good-sized holes in the branches above to let in a few columns of light.
In the absence of a cave, it was dry, defensible, and there was no sign of any predators. Chess had climbed to the top of one of the boulders and had his scope to his eye and moved it along the foliage.
Ben waited at the bottom and was heartened to see the mercenary taking his time, checking even the overhead canopy. “What’ve you got?”
Chess grinned as he stared. “You won’t fucking believe it.” He pulled the scope from his eyes. “A space ship.”
“A what?” Drake turned.
“Yeah, yeah, there, look.” He pointed up into the huge Banyan tree.
Ben spun and sure enough, looking like some sort of massive overgrown hanging fruit, was a space capsule.
It was about 15 feet up from the ground and still hooked up by parachute cables. Vines had snaked all over and around it.
Ben walked toward it and stood below looking up at it. “I’m pretty sure it’s popped open. Looks old, 50 years at least.” He tilted his head and walked a little further to one side. “I think it’s one of ours.”
Searching the ground underneath the capsule, he found the helmet and shook mud and plant matter from it. He wiped a sleeve over the forehead plate.
“Gordon,” he said, reading the stenciled name.
“Red Gordon?” Drake crossed to him and took the helmet. He shook his head. “I’ll be damned.” He looked up at the hanging module. “He was a fearless test pilot in the late 50s. But he vanished while attempting to be the first man to orbit the Earth.”
Drake held the helmet up and wiped more debris from it. “According to official records, they believed his rocket exploded on re-entry somewhere over South America. His loss set us back several years in the space race.”
Helen grimaced from the pain of her wounds and hobbled a little closer. “Do you… do you think he survived the crash?”
Ben looked up at the open capsule. “Yeah, I think he survived the crash and got out.” He looked around. “But how long after that, who knows.”
“The Bermuda Triangle.” Drake snorted softly. “I remember you telling me about that World War II Corsair fighter that had crashed here. Anything that’s unlucky enough to be caught in the magnetic distortion effects as Primordia is passing over ends up coming down here. And then vanishes from our modern world, just like in the Bermuda Triangle.”
“Yeah, I think this place solves a lot of mysteries,” Ben said. “Because no one is ever going to find these lost souls, no matter how long and hard they look.”
Drake crouched to place the helmet on the ground and laid one hand on top of it. “Rest in peace, Red.”
Ben turned to Chess, still perched up high. “Anything else?”
Chess quickly took a last look with his scope. “Nope. All clear.” He lowered his hand. “Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.”
“Okay, let’s take 20,” Ben said. The team exhaled with relief and started to drop packs, finding places to kick back.
Ben watched as their small group spread out a little. Drake smiled and spoke softly to Helen as he re-checked her wounds. Shawna seemed a little lost and sat with her head bowed and elbows resting on her knees, and big Francis patrolled the perimeter. Chess stayed atop the rock sprawled out and watching over all of them.
Ben paced, looking from the wall of the jungle to the canopy overhead. Experience, and his gut, told him there was no safe place at all in this world. There were some places that afforded shelter or security, but only for a while. And that “while” only lasted until you were found.
He looked up again and through one of the holes in the tree canopy: from this angle, he couldn’t see the streak of Primordia and only spotted a few of the bat-like creatures that flapped awkwardly from branch to branch. But they weren’t bats at all, as the mammals wouldn’t evolve for millions of years yet.