Monk’s body clenched with agony. Muscles spasmed with a bone-breaking intensity. Still, he heard the fresh barrage of gunfire pelting at the Sea Dart.
Why was Ryder still here?
Monk fought the electrocution. He should have been killed at the outset as the volts fried through him. He only lived because of the dampening insulation of his prosthetic hand. But now he smelled plastic burning.
Ryder…get the hell out of here…
“Wait!” Lisa screamed over the rattle of bullets against the flank of the Sea Dart.
Lisa lay beside Susan on the floor. She had a view of Rakao, leaning his weight on the spear, trying to drive its electrified steel tip into Monk’s chest. Monk fought. Black smoke rose from his prosthetic hand.
The canoe spun, close…or at least close enough.
“Now!” she yelled.
A loud explosive pop sounded over her head, detonating the hydraulics above. The Sea Dart snapped out its wings, chopping out like a pair of ax blades. One wing cracked into Rakao’s shoulder, sending him flying from the canoe and dumping him in a sprawl into the lake.
The barrage of rifle fire momentarily stopped as the maneuver stunned the shooters.
Lisa yelled into the ringing silence, “Monk! Above your head!”
GROGGY, MONK HEARD Lisa’s command.
It took him a moment to realize what she meant. Something was above his head. One of the wings of the Sea Dart. Trembling in a continuous quake, he gathered his legs under him — and leaped.
He didn’t trust the strength in his real hand. Smoking plastic fingers latched on to one of the wing struts. He clamped tight, twitching a signal to lock down.
Go…
“GO!” LISA HOLLERED, still on the floor, bracing herself against the seats.
Under her belly she felt the twin engines rev. The Sea Dart leaped away, swinging its stern toward the beach as the snipers again opened fire, finally shaken free of their momentary stun.
Lisa watched a stray round strike Monk’s flailing right leg.
Blood burst from his calf. She read the twist of agony in his face. His lower leg hung crookedly as Monk shifted. The bullet must have shattered through his tibia, breaking it.
Thank God, he still held on…
Ryder aimed away from the beach, flying across the water, out of range.
Lisa wanted to weep.
They would make it.
Rakao choked and sputtered his face out of the water. His toes, then heels, found rock and sand underfoot. He stood chest-deep in the lagoon. The roar of a motor drew him around.
The enemy’s boat shot across the lagoon, dangling a figure from one wingtip. Furious, he waded toward the beach. His left arm was on fire, burning in the seawater. He fingered the upper arm on that side, felt the sharp point of bone protruding through his skin, broken by the blow that had sent him flying.
He clutched his spear in the other hand.
Luckily he had not lost the weapon, having clung to it.
He might need it.
Already Rakao noted the flashes of fire under the water, aiming for him, drawn by the blood. He turned his back on the beach and retreated step-by-step. He kept his weapon poised, ready to use it. The shock might sting him, but it should drive the squids away.
Reaching waist-deep water, Rakao allowed himself a breath of relief.
Once out, he would hunt the others down.
No matter where in the world they landed, he would find them.
This, he swore.
Lightning cracked overhead, momentarily lighting the black waters, bright enough to illuminate the depths. A tangle of arms spread wide around his legs. The longest arms winked with a yellow glow. The bulk of the monster rested quietly in the sand only a step away. Then the flash ended, turning the lake into a dark mirror, reflecting the terror in his face.
Rakao stabbed down with his spear, thumbing the charge to full.
Blue fire crackled across the water. He gasped at the pain, like a steel trap snapping closed over his midsection. But it lasted only a fraction of a second — then the spear popped in his hand. With a final zap of electricity and an acrid spurt of smoke, the weapon shorted out, overloaded by his battle with the American.
Rakao stumbled back, splashing, his broken arm screaming.
Had the charge been enough?
The answer came in a slash of fire across one thigh. Chitinous hooks tore into the meat of his leg. He fought as the creature tugged him toward the deeper waters. Its bulk surfaced, rolling an eye.
Rakao stabbed at it. The weapon might not have a charge — but it did have a sharp point. He felt the blade sink deep. The grip on his leg spasmed, then went slack.
With grim satisfaction, he retreated again.
But the waters suddenly erupted all around him with streaks of fire: blues and emeralds, but mostly a blaze of crimson. More of the pack had been lying in wait. Rakao read the fury in the flickers. They swirled like a luminous whirlpool around him.
Something bumped his leg. Teeth clamped to his ankle.
Rakao knew it was the end.
Too many.
His men would never reach him in time.
Rakao stared across the waters at the fleeing boat. He dropped his spear and clutched to a holster at his shoulder. He kept it with him at all times. It held no gun. Only insurance. He twisted the T-handle that protruded from the leather holster and pulled the plunger out.
A tentacle wrapped around his waist, ripping with teeth.
If he couldn’t escape, no one would.
Rakao shoved the plunger as a tangle of tentacles lashed out of the water like flailing whips. From all directions, they fell upon him, ripping cloth and flesh, taking his legs out from under him. He felt his right ear torn away as he was dragged beneath the water.
Still, he heard the explosions, thunder from above, pounding through the water, reaching him as the monsters dragged him deep.
Boom, boom, boom…
Lisa watched the fiery explosions lighting up the island’s highlands. At first, she thought it was lightning strikes — but they exploded sequentially, rimming around the top of the island.
“What the hell?” Ryder called from the pilot’s seat.
Sections of the island’s canopy began to fall in fiery ruin.
She yelled. “Someone’s blowing up the net! It’s all coming down!”
Ryder cursed.
Explosions continued. Fires lit the skies, speeding around the island’s heights. Unless they fled faster, reached the lagoon’s exit, they’d be smothered under the net when it all came down.
“I need to get airborne!” Ryder called back.
That would be a problem.
Concussive blasts lit up the rim of the island.
Monk understood.
The net…
The Sea Dart suddenly sped faster, trying to outrun the explosions. The boat lifted out of the water a few inches as it surpassed takeoff speeds.
But Monk’s swinging weight unbalanced the boat, tilting it. His toes skimmed the waters. Ryder corrected, slowing the speed. They struck the water, bounced, then settled again.
Pain shot up Monk’s broken leg. Still he hung clamped to the strut.
Even if he had wanted to, he could not detach. His tussle with Rakao’s spear had fried the electronics of his prosthetic hand. It had shut down after clamping to the wing strut. He was hooked like a slab of beef in a butcher’s shop.
He twisted around, watching the explosions continue around the island. The entire back half of the net drifted down, raining fire amid the storm’s downpour.