Jeremy Robinson - Island 731

And the eyes of a goat.

A smile revealed the teeth of a tiger.

This chimera, like the panther-child, was part human. But there were three distinct species just in its face! Hawkins didn’t want to know what species formed the rest of the creature, but he couldn’t let it leave with Joliet. Not without a fight.

He stepped for the knife, but the blade was snatched from the ground. He saw the blade glint in the moonlight, held in the grasp of one of the creature’s hands—if it had hands; its digits blended into the night.

Ping! The blade snapped free from the hilt and spun to the ground.

Hawkins just stared, too stunned to take action. The thing had just snapped the knife’s blade like it was little more than a dry twig.

What could he do against that?

Before he had a chance to answer the question, the thing leapt. It landed on the other side of the river. Hawkins saw it jump twice more, clearing the razor-wire fence with little effort. When branches and leaves crunched beneath the creature’s weight, Hawkins was snapped from his confusion.

The creature took Joliet!

He ran toward the river. “Bray!” he shouted. “Bray! Where are you?” But there was no reply. Bray was either dead, unconscious on the bank, or had already been swept over the falls. Hawkins ran along the river, trying to spot his friend, but there was no sign of the man. When he reached the wooden bridge spanning the river, he vaulted across and headed for the gate he’d spotted earlier.

The chain-link fence, tucked into the jungle and concealed in darkness, was impossible to see. Hawkins reached it faster than he thought he would and crashed into it with a loud jangle. His chest and arms pitched over the curls of razor wire. Rusty blades sliced into his flesh, drawing blood. He winced as he pulled back, but did not cry out. He was beyond acknowledging the pain.

Fumbling in the darkness, Hawkins found the latch, pulled it up, and swung the gate open. He felt the smooth surface of a well-worn path beneath his feet, but after just a few steps was wading through ferns. He adjusted back toward the path, found it again, and tried his best to stay on it. He slowed, despite his panic, and soon realized pursuit was hopeless.

The goat-eyed creature could see in the dark.

He couldn’t.

It was far stronger and faster.

It knew the island.

And even if he somehow caught up to the creature, what could he do? His knife—the blade that had saved him from a grizzly bear, great white shark, and a tentacle-tongued crocodile, not to mention a draco-snake—had been snapped in two. The knife had become a symbol of his mastery of nature and a reminder of a time when he’d lost respect for the power of nature. Its casual destruction had taken his confidence.

He was out of his element. There was nothing natural about this creature, or anything on this island, save for maybe the rats.

Hawkins stopped. He cursed through grinding teeth.

He tried to focus, to clear his thoughts. He’d have to find a way back up the path. Go to the laboratory. Check on Bennett. And Drake. Search for Bray. But he probably wouldn’t find the man in the dark, so he’d have to search again in the morning. And then?

Plans had changed. He wouldn’t leave without Joliet even if it meant dying here. Bennett, Bray, and Drake could leave, but he would scour the island until he found her. Dead or alive.

Hawkins felt himself on the other side of that message for the first time. Dead or alive . Thinking it made his heart go cold. He was glad he’d never voiced the phrase to the families whose lost ones he’d searched for. So for the first time in his life, he altered the phrase.

“I’ll find her alive,” he said, and as the last syllable escaped his lips, Joliet screamed.

Close by.

Hawkins spun toward the sound and broke into a sprint.

“Joliet!” he shouted.

Within five steps he was up to full speed.

When he reached ten steps, he ran headlong into something sinewy. It clotheslined him across the throat, flipping him back. His head struck something hard and unforgiving.

Joliet screamed again, this time sounding much more distant. The sound of her voice faded, but not before lulling Hawkins into unconsciousness.

Howie GoodTracks leaned over Hawkins’s prone body. “It’s broken.”

Hawkins had never broken a bone before and the sight of his bulging shin nearly made him pass out. But GoodTracks took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake.

“Hey!” the old man said. “Do not go into shock. It’s just a broken bone. These things happen. But you will die if you aren’t able to keep your mind sharp.”

That snapped Hawkins out of his pain-filled haze. “Die?”

GoodTracks nodded. “What would you do if I were not here with you?”

“You are here with me!” Hawkins shouted back.

“How many times have you done something foolish like this without me around?”

Hawkins looked up at the tall rock he’d leapt from. He had, in fact, jumped from it at least twenty times previously. Thinking he’d perfected his landing technique, he decided to show his mentor. But in his excitement, he jumped higher and farther than before. The landing was hard and all wrong. He knew the answer, but didn’t offer it.

GoodTracks continued. “If this happened to you, alone, in the forest, what would you do?”

“I—I don’t know,” Hawkins admitted as he fought the tears gathering in his eyes.

“Good news,” GoodTracks said with a slight grin. “You’ll learn today. Look around you. What do you see?”

Hawkins looked around the forest. The tall pine forest floor was mostly clear of brush, but it was littered with fallen branches. “You want me to make a splint?”

GoodTracks nodded. “And set the bone. Find some crutches. And then walk the mile back to the lodge. We’ll start with the bone.”

“You can’t be serious,” Hawkins said.

“You know I am.” GoodTracks stood back and crossed his arms. “Now, sit up.”

Hawkins obeyed. He wanted to be angry at GoodTracks, but couldn’t be. He knew his surrogate father was right. This was his fault, and it could have happened during any of his previous jumps. And it could happen again. He looked down at the leg. It hurt less now and he felt almost giddy. I’m in shock , he realized, but then decided there was no better time to try what he was about to do. If the pain got worse, or his thoughts fully cleared, or the leg swelled too much, he’d be done.

He leaned forward, reaching past the break, and took hold of his ankle with both hands. An electric zing of pain shot up his leg, but he held on tight. “What do I do?”

“Tug your leg down, angle it back in place, and let go. The muscles will pull the bone together, but then we’ll need something to hold it there.”

Hawkins’s face screwed up with determination. In three seconds, he tugged, shifted, and let go of his leg when it was straightened, screaming for the duration before passing out.

If not for the light of day tingeing the back of his eyelids red, Hawkins wouldn’t have realized more than a few minutes had passed. His beaten body gave into exhaustion and slipped quietly from unconsciousness to sleep. His thoughts drifted to the dream, which was actually a memory. He managed to set the leg, find a single crutch, and hobble most of his way back to the lodge where they were staying. GoodTracks had helped toward the end and told Hawkins he was proud of him. It was a painful memory, but a good one.

Hawkins shifted with a groan. Every muscle ached, and would for days. His chest hurt so bad that he wondered if the creature’s strike had broken a few ribs. He opened his eyes and squinted against a shaft of morning sunlight that somehow found a path through the canopy to his face. He turned away from the light, which kick-started a hangoverlike headache. His head felt like it might explode when he pushed himself into a sitting position, but forgot all about the pain pulsing through his body when his head collided with something.