“What the hell is going on?” She turned about.
Elizabeth was gently wiping Edward’s wounds with a damp handkerchief. “Vampire Dodder,” she said. “We should have known they’d grow in this area.”
“What?” Helen’s mouth hung open, and she turned to stare for a moment. “What is that thing?”
Elizabeth tilted her head, confusion crossing her youthful features. “I only just remembered — the Vampire Dodder. It’s a parasitic vine that can be a real problem. Pretty common in these parts; you know that.”
Helen shook her head and felt slightly nauseous as another tickling ripple ran through her body. “I’ve never seen, or even heard of that thing before in my life.” She turned back to the plant that had now reset its thorny tendrils, waiting patiently for something to blunder too close again.
Somehow something had changed, and the more she thought about it, the more she got a sinking sensation in her stomach. She rubbed her forehead, wondering why she seemed to be out of sync with everyone else. Why did the plant seem so alien to her, but normal to everyone else?
But then she did sort of remember. Not this type of plant, and not here and now. But when they were hacking through the jungle of the Late Cretaceous, there had been something similar. So what was it doing here, in this place, and in this time?
A worm of worry coiled inside her. She needed to talk to someone, urgently, and there was one someone she could trust who had experienced everything she had.
CHAPTER 09
Drake was back out on the bay, heading out, and already about 2,000 feet from the shoreline where the water darkened as the sea bottom sloped away to about 200 feet of deep blue. There was a slight chop on the surface, but his streamlined Nellie cut through it like a hot knife through butter.
Several times last night and once this morning, the weird blackouts had occurred, accompanied by the tingling that started in his belly and then washed right through him. No one he talked to seemed to have noticed, and when he brought it up with a guy on the dock, he just stared back as though Drake probably needed to see a doctor, rather than it being an external phenomenon.
One thing that the Amazon had taught him was that life was short and should never be taken for granted. Enjoy it while you got it… so, he simply pushed it from his thoughts.
He flicked his head, whipping water from his eyes, and stared dead ahead. It was a good day for sailing, and he thought it odd that no one else was out here with him. In the distance, he saw there was a lump in the water, and he craned his neck trying to get a better look, but it seemed to vanish before his eyes.
One of those weird-ass giant jellyfish, he bet. This time, he decided to get a picture and kept heading toward it. But he gave the tiller a touch so he wouldn’t sail right over the spot just in case it was something half submerged, like a log or lost shipping container. His Nellie was a Catalina Capri, built for speed and beauty, and definitely not for breaking ice packs.
The wind gusted a tad harder and the boat lifted a little and began to skip and dance across the surface. Drake was forced to lean back to stop it flipping. He was closing in on the spot he’d seen the dark shape, and as he leaned out even further, he caught sight of the thing almost right below him. His heart jumped in his chest.
There was a huge head only about 10 feet down, nearly as long as his boat, and it was attached to a long whale-like body — and worst of all, it was now trying to keep pace with him.
Drake couldn’t tear his eyes away and saw it was turned slightly on its side so as he looked down at it, it was looking back up at him. Then to his horror, he could tell it was coming up.
“Jesus Henry Christ!”
He tacked away, his hands moving furiously to drag in ropes, keep the tiller tight, and also reposition himself to rapidly build up more speed. He twisted on the gunwale to look back and saw the lump in the water breach, coming after him.
There was a plume of water mist like that from a whale, but unlike a whale, there were two instead of one, as if there were two spouts close together, like from a freaking big nose.
Drake felt his heart galloping now, and he turned ahead to see just how far he was from the shoreline — still 1,600 to 1,800 feet at least.
He angled even steeper into the wind and headed directly in. Drake was skimming now, cutting it fine between top-speed and tipping over. And that was the last thing he wanted, because he had a pretty good idea that if he went in the drink, he wouldn’t be climbing back out.
He snapped his head around for a quick look back and saw the lump still there, not gaining, but not falling away either. The huge bulk of the thing was making V-shaped waves as it chased after him. Whatever the thing was, it was damn big and fast as hell. But he had a good lead and with the wind up, he intended to keep it.
Then the Nellie hit something, soft and pillow-like, and he immediately knew he’d just run over another of those goddamn giant jellyfish. The boat’s speed was cut by three-quarters.
Drake furiously re-angled the boat, tugged in the sail, and the Nellie gathered again as the breeze lifted the boat as if a giant hand gave her a gentle push along. He was soon back up to speed, but looking back, his lead had been cut in half.
Damn, damn, damn… This can’t be happening, he thought. He left all this shit behind on that damned plateau nearly 10 years ago.
Drake whipped his head back again toward the thing following him, and then forward. His swift little boat was eating up the yards toward the beach. He didn’t have time to get back to the club wharf, so anywhere dry would do.
He looked back again and gritted his teeth. Then he hit another jellyfish and grunted as he was thrown forward.
“Fuck the fuck off!” he screamed. He madly went through the motions once again to regain his speed. He looked back and felt a cold hand on his neck — the damned thing was gaining on him. It was 500 feet back before, but now only about 200. He turned back to the beach.
Come on, baby, you can do it.
Once more his boat skipped along, and then he hit every racing boat captain’s number one enemy — the calm spot. Drake had to leap forward to stop from falling back into the water as the boat settled into the dead zone of no wind.
Oh, shit, no.
Then it was over and the wind started up again. But now he had to go from a standing start this time — slow, so slow. But up he climbed—5 knots per hour, 10, 15, 20… Drake looked back and could see the lump of the beast’s back clearly now. It was a shining gray like a whale but with darker banding. It was so close he could see a few barnacles on its back, and horrifyingly, the two large predatorial eyes were fixed right on him.
His boat skimmed fast once more, and he counted down to the shore—400 feet to go, with the thing only 100 back now. He watched it for a moment more and saw it accelerate, trying to catch him before he got away.
He turned back toward the bow and leaned forward as if this was somehow going to make him and the boat a little more aerodynamic. How far must he go before the creature decided the water was too shallow? Or could it come up on the land — remember the damn jellyfish and the bird? Impossible, he thought, begging it not to be true.
Faster, faster, faster, he urged Nellie.
Below him, he started to see clumps of weed. It must have only been about 20 feet deep here. He hurriedly turned back and saw that the thing was gone. Or had dived.