“Take them out,” she heard herself say. “But the priority is the hatchlings. We can clean up later.”
Her firm response brought a smile to her face.
Perhaps I am a soldier.
She looked at her tracking screen. The hatchlings were moving toward their position in an odd zigzagging pattern, and they were moving fast.
Too fast for anyone to keep up with them. What are they doing?
The zigzagging continued for ten minutes as the hatchlings drew closer and closer, then they suddenly stopped.
“They’re here,” Yvonne whispered, straining to see them through the thick foliage. “Does anyone see them?”
She got back four negatives.
Impossible.
According to the tracking device, the hatchlings were twenty feet away from her.
* * *
“There’s our favorite twisted animal trainer,” Marty said, zooming in on Yvonne’s sweaty head.
She was hiding behind a downed tree with a rifle in one hand and some kind of tracking device in the other. Her red face was covered with nasty-looking welts. Her normally perfectly coiffed hair looked like a pile of rotting moss. She was desperately scanning the rain forest for dinosaurs.
“Looks like she’s been simmering in a slow cooker all night,” Dylan said.
Marty left her and found her partners. They, too, were scanning the forest but didn’t look nearly as wrung out as Yvonne.
“Time to turn up the heat,” he said.
He flew the dragonspy away from them and landed it on a branch.
Yvonne and the mercenaries were on their feet immediately, cautiously moving toward the landing spot.
“I don’t need a cliff,” Marty said happily. “I can exhaust them to death.”
“The soldiers don’t look very tired,” Grace pointed out.
Marty zoomed in on Spike. Grace was right. He looked as if he could trudge through the rain forest for a century like some kind of tropical cyborg. The others didn’t look quite as lively as Spike, but they were in a lot better shape than Yvonne.
Marty flew the dragonspy ahead a couple hundred yards, happy in the knowledge that he could keep doing this until they either gave up or dropped dead.
“It’s almost like having a leash tied to them and pulling them through the jungle.”
“Something’s coming our way,” Dylan said.
Marty looked up from the screen. It sounded like a herd of elephants.
He jumped up. “Hide!”
He dove into a pile of leaf litter and burrowed into the rotted slime like a mole, hoping it would conceal him and that nothing in the pile would bite him. He heard a squealing noise and raised his slime-covered head to see what it was.
Three animals the size of small pigs trotted by not ten feet from him. They were covered in brown fur, and by the look of their eyes, they were terrified.
Capybaras, the largest rodents in the world. But they aren’t big enough to make …
The hatchlings descended on the large rats from two directions with incredible speed and violence. The trio of rodents were tossed into the air and dead before they hit the ground. The hatchlings tore them apart and gulped the bloody flesh down in seconds. Marty stayed exactly where he was to avoid becoming part of the feeding frenzy. Ted had been confident the hatchlings could make it on their own in the forest.
I guess he was right.
Marty felt sorry for the rain forest animals, then thought about Luther and wondered if …
His stomach lurched. The hatchlings had clearly been tracking him.
What made them come back? Did they catch up to him and …
He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to rid his mind of the image of Luther being torn limb from limb and devoured. The eyes closed thing didn’t work. He felt bile creep up his throat. He opened his eyes and saw something that horrified him even more. Grace had come out of hiding and was standing ten feet away from the vicious dinosaurs with her hands out like she wanted to pet them.
“No!”
He popped out of the leaf slime like a jack-in-the-box. The hatchlings jumped at the sudden appearance of the leaf slime monster and turned on him.
“What are you doing?” Grace shrieked.
“Saving your life!” Marty shouted back. “Run! I’ll distract them.”
The hatchlings eyed him warily.
Dylan emerged from his hiding place. “I wouldn’t run,” he said. “It’s one of those predator/prey things. They’re hardwired to chase things.”
“Who do you think you are?” Marty said. “Noah Blackwood? Run! Both of you!”
They had inadvertently surrounded the hatchlings. The dinosaurs were whipping their bloody heads around as if they were deciding who to kill first.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Grace said. To prove her point, she touched one of the hatchling’s heads.
Marty was absolutely certain her hand would be snapped off at the wrist and swallowed, starting a feeding frenzy that would kill them all. But instead, the hatchling lowered its head, closed its eyes, and leaned in closer to her, making a hissing sound that kind of sounded like a cat’s purr.
“You’re a dino whisperer!” Dylan said.
“You’re lucky you’re not a big juicy rodent,” Marty said. “I think the only reason those little monsters didn’t attack you is that they’re full from eating Luther.”
“You’re the one who looks like a monster. You’re covered in rotting mulch.”
“Then I’m a mulcher, not a monster.”
Dylan laughed.
“Don’t encourage him,” Grace said. The second hatchling leaned in for a head scratch. “See?” She used both hands to scratch, one for each vicious head. “They’re not man-eaters.”
Marty thought about reminding her that Mokélé-mbembé had killed her mother and bitten off her father’s leg, but he didn’t want to upset her. He was amazed at his self-control.
“Why are you smiling?” Grace asked.
Marty hadn’t realized that he was smiling. “Forget it,” he said, and pulled out the Gizmo. It was time to check on their friends and lead them farther afield. His smile turned into a frown as the video came onto the screen.
“Bad news.”
Grace and Dylan gathered around, as did the two hatchlings. One of them hacked up a clot of foul-smelling slobber onto the screen.
“Gross!” Grace said.
Dylan retched.
Marty wiped the Gizmo on his pant leg, then showed them the screen.
“Busted,” Dylan said.
Marty nodded. “Looks that way.”
Yvonne and the goons were staring directly at the dragonspy. One of them raised his shotgun. Marty flew the dragonspy away.
“Missed,” he said. “They probably realized it’s not a real dragonfly.”
“Now what?” Grace asked.
“I guess they’ll head back to camp to see if there’s anyone there to kill. Our only option is to follow them with the dragonspy.”
“They’ll know we’re keeping an eye on them,” Dylan said.
“So what,” Marty said. “If I fly the dragonspy back to us, they’ll know where we are. I can’t take the tracking tags off without destroying the dragonspy. I stuck them on with superglue.”
Marty looked at the hatchlings. They were scratching around on the ground for capybara scraps. Marty was pretty certain there wasn’t a toenail left.
If capybaras even have toenails.
“Looks like our bloodhounds have lost interest in finding Luther,” he said.
Mindful of what a shotgun blast would do to the dragonspy, Marty flew the bot back toward Yvonne and her gang of thugs. They were on the move again. The men led. Yvonne lagged behind with her head down and feet dragging as if the next step might be her last.
“She looks wrung out,” Dylan said.
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer person,” Marty said.
“I wouldn’t count her out,” Grace said. “Yvonne runs o
n ambition and hatred. She has enough of both to keep her on her feet for decades. What do you want to do?”
“We can’t go back to camp, because that’s where they’re probably headed,” Marty said. “Now that they know we have the dragonspy, they’ll be looking for the green lights. I guess we should follow the hatchlings. They were tracking something, and I don’t think it was giant rats. Unless you think Luther is a giant rat.”
“Maybe a naked mole rat,” Grace said.
“He does kind of look like one with his head shaved,” Marty agreed. “But before we take off, I need to figure out what to do with the dragonspy.”
“Why don’t you do what Luther did,” Grace suggested.
“Huh?”
“Aboard the Coelacanth,” Grace answered. “Just before I took off in the helicopter with Noah, Luther flew a dragonspy into my shirt pocket.”
Marty remembered. It had actually been a smart thing to do, but Grace had not taken advantage of it. The signal had died within days. He stared at her.
“What?” Grace asked.
“Where —”
“Oh my God!” Grace grabbed her pack and started opening pockets. “I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry. I completely forgot …” She pulled the dragonspy out and held it in her palm.
It looked like a dead insect, but Marty knew better. It wasn’t dead. All it needed was some sun juice.
His face broke into a smile. “This changes everything.”
“I should have —”
“Forget it,” Marty said, gently taking the bot from her. “All that matters is that we have it now.” He took off his baseball cap and attached the dragonspy to the brim. With the thick canopy overhead it would take a while to fully charge, but the dragonspy didn’t need that much energy to get into the air.
Grace’s backpack gave him an idea for the first dragonspy. He looked at the Gizmo screen and zoomed in on Yvonne’s backpack. On the side of the pack was deep pocket without a flap or a zipper. Wisely, Yvonne hadn’t used it. Without a closure, the pocket was worthless.
But it makes a perfect dragonspy hideout.
He flew the dragonspy to the pocket and made it crawl inside. The video turned black.
“That’s going to drive them nuts,” he said. “Their GPS will tell them the bot is right on top of them, but they won’t be able to see it.”
“Unless Yvonne checks the pocket,” Grace said.
“Exactly, but who cares? They can’t fly it without a Gizmo that’s linked to it, and I have the only one.” Marty checked the dragonspy on his cap; it was just beginning to move slightly.
The hatchlings had found the trail again and were sniffing the ground, making the same odd sounds they had made back at camp. After a short pause they moved off in the direction the capybaras had come from.
“I think they’re back on the scent,” Dylan said.
Marty pocketed the Gizmo and put his cap on. “They’re probably after more rat snacks, but we might as well follow them. We don’t have anyplace else to go.”
They took off after the sniffing hatchlings.
Thirty feet down the trail, the dragonspy on Marty’s cap moved one of its four wings, but he didn’t see it.
As Butch pushed Luther and Wolfe down the wide corridor, Luther couldn’t get over the similarities between the Ark and Noah’s secret bunker. The bunker was clearly older than the Ark, made out of cement with none of the high-end finishes. There were doors on either side of the corridor, but instead of being numbered, they were named, presumably in German, which Luther could not decipher. The corridor here was darker than the Ark, a little musty smelling, filling Luther with a sense of foreboding. The only sound was the clicking of Butch’s boots. He stopped in front of an elevator door, punched in a code, which Luther strained to see, but couldn’t because Butch was careful to block both of their views. The door slid open with an eerie screech. Inside was a freight elevator big enough to hold a small school bus.
Creepy. Definitely not the Ark.
They stepped inside. Butch punched the button for 1, which surprised Luther because he thought they were on the first floor. The elevator started down with a stomach-dropping lurch. They continued past Floor 2 and came to a bumpy stop.
Four levels, Luther thought. Two on top, two below. We’re under the lake.
The doors creaked open. The first level was darker, danker, and mustier than the level they’d entered on, but what disturbed Luther more was that it looked like it hadn’t been used in years, maybe decades.
“What is this?” Wolfe asked.
“Shut up,” Butch said, and pushed them down the damp corridor past several rusty doors. He stopped in front of a door with yet another keypad. “End of the line.”
Luther didn’t like the sound of that. He looked at Wolfe, hoping he had some kind of plan to get them out of this mess. It didn’t look that way, unless staring at Butch with dull hatred was going to stop him.
“This isn’t necessary, Butch,” Wolfe said.
Again Butch managed to punch in the code without their being able to see it. He’d obviously done this many times before.
“I’ll decide what’s necessary and what isn’t.”
He swung the door open. It was dark inside. Wolfe started forward.
“Not you,” Butch said, waving him off with his pistol.
Wolfe shot him a dirty look. “Why?”
Butch smiled. “Because I said.” He pointed the gun at Luther’s head. “I can kill him right here if you like. Up to you.”
“That’s okay,” Luther said. “I kind of like dark scary rooms. I’ll be fine.”
“Good choice,” Butch said. “And just so you know, the vents are welded shut.”
Luther nodded, but he was disappointed to hear it. That was how he had escaped from the Ark after his last unfortunate encounter with Butch.
He held his hands up. “What about the cuffs?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to get them off,” Butch said, and shoved Luther into the dark room. The door slammed closed behind him. He heard the latch close and the lock click into place. As he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark, he thought back to the last time he’d been in this situation, only a couple of days ago.
At least there’s no chupacabra trying to kill …
The thought took his breath away. Back at the Ark they had played a dirty trick on Yvonne, fooling her into thinking she was trapped in a room with the chupacabra. She completely deserved it, but that was beside the point. Yvonne, Butch, and Blackwood probably didn’t think their trick was very funny.
Where’s the chupacabra now? Did they bring it to Brazil with them? Is it in the room with me?
He tried to listen, remembering the horrible sound of its razor-sharp claws clicking on stainless steel. He couldn’t hear anything except for his heart beating in his chest. Marty said the chupacabra’s eyes were fire orange. He didn’t see any flames in the dark.
Of course, Marty was shining a light in the chupacabra’s ugly face at the time, and I’m in a pitch-black room, and my eyes don’t seem to be adjusting, which means there isn’t any light leaking in, even under the door. The room is completely sealed. That can’t be good.
Luther thought he heard something. It wasn’t a skitter or a click. It sounded more like a rustling. He flattened himself against the wall and held his breath. The sound came again.
Definitely a rustling sound, maybe twenty feet away.
He wasn’t alone, but what was in here with him? A genetically engineered killing machine? Or a rat?
Please be a rat.
He began feeling the wall for a light switch.
Light or dark, I don’t stand a chance against that chupacabra, but at least I’ll see it coming. I wish I had my headlamp. He remembered that he had his cell phone stuffed down his pants. He was certain there wouldn’t be a signal, but it would work fine as a flashlight. All he had do was figure out how get it with his wrists cuffed.
“Is some
one there?”
Luther nearly jumped out of his pants.
“Yeah, someone’s here,” Luther said, relieved beyond belief. The chupacabra couldn’t talk.
“Luther?”
Luther didn’t recognize the voice.
“It’s Buck. Are you okay?”
“Hang on a minute.” Luther managed to extract his phone, turn it on, and shine it at the wall. “I’m trying to find a light…. Ah, here it is.” He hit the switch. A single light came on. There were several fixtures hanging from the high ceiling, but only one of them seemed to have a working bulb.
Buck was sitting in the center of the huge room holding his head. Ana was lying about ten feet away from him. Not moving.
Luther hurried over to her. Buck was already at her side feeling for a pulse.
“Is she —”
“She’s alive,” Buck said. “Unconscious, but alive.”
Buck had dried blood on the back of his head.
“What happened?” Luther asked.
“We tried to make a break for it, and I guess we got clubbed in the head. I’m still a little uncertain about how it went down. Three indigenous guys grabbed us while we were out looking for you.”
“Triplets?”
“What?”
“Never mind. What happened?”
“They were taking us somewhere and Ana went for one of the guy’s spears. It didn’t work out.” Buck looked around the room as if he were seeing it clearly for the first time. “Where are we?”
“Some kind of bunker, built by the Nazis.”
“What are you talking about?”
Luther quickly filled him in.
When he finished, Buck said, “You sure you didn’t get bonked on the head, too?”
“I’m fine.”
Ana started to stir.
Luther glanced around and noticed several cardboard boxes stacked along the walls. He checked them out while Buck tended to Ana. The boxes were filled with bottled water and MREs — Meals Ready to Eat. They weren’t going to starve to death or die of thirst. The concrete room was about twenty feet square with an old toilet and sink in one corner and nothing else. The ceiling was fifteen feet high. He counted five vents. They wouldn’t be able to reach them even if they weren’t welded shut like Butch said. He didn’t see any cameras, but he was certain they were there. On top of one of the boxes of water was a box cutter.