Jeremy Robinson - Island 731

As disturbing as it was, the discovery of the cameras changed nothing. Whether his return to the lab had been noted or not, his goals remained the same: find his friends and get the hell off the island.

The goats followed him to the gate. As he opened and closed it behind him, the goats tried to follow through the spring-powered hatch at the bottom. He pushed it closed. “Stay here,” he growled.

The first goat pushing on the gate looked up at him. It butted its horns against the chain link, clearly not accustomed to having its freedom restricted. Hawkins lost his patience and shook the gate. “Stay here!” he shouted, then delivered a rattling kick to the chain-link fence.

“They listen if you’re nice.”

The voice spun Hawkins around so fast that he fell on his ass and dropped the rifle. He twisted his head back and forth, looking for the voice’s source, but saw no one. He snatched up the rifle and continued his search, looking over the sight. “Who’s there?”

“I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me,” the voice said. It sounded feminine. And young.

Leaves rustled over his head. He aimed the weapon up, but saw nothing.

The goats shied away, bleating as though wounded.

Hawkins ignored them.

The voice took on a more serious tone. “I could have killed you already if I wanted to.”

Not serious , Hawkins thought, impatient.

He was a quick draw if he needed to be, so he lowered the weapon in favor of getting answers.

“Why are you here?” the voice asked.

“Let me see you,” he replied.

“You should probably leave.”

No shit . He put the rifle down on the ground and raised his hands, ready to grab the rifle at the first sign of danger. “What’s your name?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Hawkins was now convinced he was speaking with someone young. “Why not?”

“They die.”

Hawkins fought the urge to pick up the rifle and start pulling the trigger. “Always?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you talking to me, then?”

“I sometimes break the rules.”

Hawkins forced a grin and tried to make it look real. “Me, too.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“You use a gun. That’s not very fair.”

“It keeps me alive.”

“Not against—” The voice paused for five full seconds. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” Hawkins heard movement to his left, but didn’t pick up the rifle. The sound was moving away.

“Wait!” he said. “My name is Mark Hawkins. We don’t have to be strangers.”

“Hawkins,” the voice said, trying the word out slowly. “Like the bird?”

“Like the bird,” he confirmed.

“I don’t see any bird in you,” the voice said.

Bird in me? His eyes widened. She thinks I’m a chimera. “I’m not one of those things.”

“Things?”

“A chimera,” he said.

“Things!” The young voice sounded angry and had a little growl to it.

Son of a bitch . Hawkins realized his mistake just before the face emerged from the shadows in the canopy above him. The voice—the girl—she was the panther-child chimera.

Her squinted yellow eyes glared at him. Her lithe body, part human, part cat, tensed as though preparing to pounce. Her long black tail twitched behind her.

Hawkins looked into her eyes, still fighting the urge to pick up the rifle. He’d made a horrible first impression with this… girl when they’d first met. He was determined to do better this time. He just hoped she wouldn’t tear his throat out.

“You think you’re better than me,” she said. “Everyone who comes here is the same. You’re all afraid of us because we don’t look like you. But that’s fine. You should be. We’re stronger, faster, and smarter than any of you.”

The tone of the girl’s voice had taken on that of a teenage temper tantrum, and Hawkins decided that’s what it was. So he didn’t argue, he just listened to her vent. But then her tone became darker. She slinked back into the shadows so he could only see her yellow eyes. “I don’t want to know you.”

“Wait,” he said.

She moved farther away. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

Hawkins stood. “I’m sorry.”

The panther-girl closed her eyes and disappeared. Her last words lost the edge and sounded sad more than anything. “You’ll be dead soon, anyway.”

The trees above shook, and then she was gone.

Hawkins searched the jungle. She was gone.

While he took consolation in the fact that something other than the goats didn’t want to eat him, he now had even more unanswered questions. Nothing I can do about that now , he thought, and stood.

“Hello!” a voice called. Faint. In the distance. Behind him.

Hawkins spun around and climbed up the hill, back toward the old lab.

“Where is everyone?” the voice called.

Hawkins paused at the fence, wary of the cameras. Bennett was there, walking across the wooden bridge with a severe limp. The goats gave him an unusually wide birth, which was probably a good thing. Bennett didn’t look so hot, though his face perked up when he saw Hawkins by the fence.

“Hawkins!” Bennett said a lot louder than he should have. He gave a wave and hobbled across the clearing. “Hawkins, thank God!” He tripped when he reached the fence and Hawkins had to catch him.

“Where are the others?” Hawkins asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

Bennett’s eyes turned down. “I’m… not sure.”

“You were in the lab last night,” Hawkins said, trying not to let his impatience show. Bennett was injured, and shook up, but he was also the only one who might know what happened to the others. “Bray is gone. Drake is gone. All of our equipment is gone. The lab has been cleaned out.”

Bennett didn’t look up as he spoke softly. “I ran.”

“You what?”

“Ran,” Bennett said. “Into the jungle. When that thing showed up I didn’t know what to do! I saw you go down. I wouldn’t have stood a chance. So I ran. Hid in a tree overnight. Didn’t come back out until just now.”

Hawkins sighed. He was frustrated with the kid, but understood. Bennett was right. If he’d stayed, he would have been killed or taken with Joliet. He gave Bennett a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, kid, you did the right thing.”

Bennett began to shake, maybe from fear, maybe from adrenaline.

Hawkins took hold of his arms, which felt stronger than he would have guessed. “Bennett, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

The shaking got worse, and Hawkins worried the kid was having a seizure. But his eyes looked clear. And afraid. Wet with tears. Hawkins wasn’t exactly a fatherly type. He didn’t have those instincts, and they were never modeled to him by his father. Instead, he channeled Howie GoodTracks. “Life is full of hardships. Horrible things sometimes happen. People we love die. But in the end, it’s all heat for the furnace.”

Bennett stopped shaking and locked his eyes on Hawkins. “What?”

“Bad things refine us,” Hawkins said, completing the metaphor. “Make us stronger, so that we can overcome the challenges in our own lives. That’s what’s happening here. For you. When we get off this island, you’ll be a stronger person. A better person.”

Hawkins cringed inwardly. When GoodTracks spoke similar words to him it was because they were putting down a lame horse, not running for their lives on an island populated by killer chimeras. He doubted even GoodTracks would have something wise to say about their current situation. His mentor understood nature like few people, but there was very little natural about the island. Still, the words seemed to have done the trick.