Jeremy Robinson - Island 731

They moved in a tight group. Drake led the way, armed with a single butcher knife, which he used to hack away the occasional vine or branch obstructing their path. Hawkins and Joliet followed close together, and Bray brought up the rear, ringing his bell.

The sounds of the battle weren’t exactly far behind them—perhaps a quarter mile—but were so muffled by foliage that the soldiers’ gunfire sounded like distant fireworks. It was as much of a reprieve as they were going to get.

“What happened to you?” Hawkins asked Drake.

“Not entirely sure.” He motioned to the blood staining his clothes. “Woke up like this. I have a few fragmented memories. Like dreams. I’m pretty sure I was delusional. Wandering the jungle. Must have come across something that set me off. Could’ve been one of those dracos. Hell, could have been a goat. Or a cow.” He shrugged. “I woke up a few hours ago. Found my way to the farm. Helped myself to some food. Just started to feel a little bit more like myself when Bray shows up, gives me the short and nasty version of what happened to you all, and here we are.”

“You’re still feverish, aren’t you?” Joliet said.

“Feel like shit,” Drake confirmed. His body shivered in response to the acknowledgment. “But I think I got off easy compared to you. A lot easier than most of the people under my command.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the loss of their crewmembers weighing heavily.

“How did they die?” Drake asked.

No one wanted to answer that question. Drake had seen what happened to Blok. The shot he took to the head, while horrible, was quick and more painless a death than the others. “I don’t think—”

Drake chopped at a low-hanging branch and yanked it away. He paused and looked back at Hawkins. “ How did they die?”

“Not well,” Hawkins said. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Ranger, I need to know.”

Hawkins was more concerned about how Drake would react than the few moments it would take to relate the details. The captain was still feverish, and if he pushed too hard, he could relapse into another delusional state, which could be a bad thing, given the blood covering his body and the butcher knife in his hand.

Bray had no such concerns. “Bennett stabbed Kam in the chest. DeWinter and Jones were incubators for the BFSs—the spiders. They died when the things came out. Jim and Ray were both experimented on. Ray died on the operating table. Jim became… a monster. Tried to kill us. Hawkins…”

Drake glared at Bray. “Hawkins what?”

Bray looked uncomfortable. It was a point Hawkins wanted to avoid, too. For now, at least.

Drake turned to Hawkins. “You what ?”

Hawkins sighed. Time really was becoming an issue now. “I killed him. Quickly.”

Drake just stared at him for a moment and then said, “Then we’re not leaving anyone behind?”

“No, sir,” Hawkins said.

Drake gave a nod. “Couldn’t have been easy, doing what you did. Thank you.” Then he was off and moving again.

They covered the next mile of mostly level jungle without incident or conversation. Gunfire and screams occasionally filtered through the trees, but never nearby. They paused at the base of a hill. Hawkins looked up. The rise was steep and covered with outcrops of black, volcanic rock that would have to be scaled, but it wasn’t impassable. What he didn’t like was that the rough terrain held fewer trees. He could hear helicopters circling the island. If they were spotted on the hillside, they’d make an easy target for a minigun. An even easier target for a hellfire missile. But if they made it to the top, they’d be close to their goal.

“Catch your breath for a minute,” he said. “We’re going to have to do this quick.”

Bray stretched and winced. “Are we almost there? God, I sound like one of my students.”

Hawkins closed his eyes and pictured the island as he’d seen it from the top of the pillbox. They were approaching the south shore between the western shore and the lagoon. He remembered the hill. Once they reached the top, it would be a straight, downhill slope all the way to the shoreline and, hopefully, salvation. “Half mile more, tops.”

“What about the kids?” Bray asked. “I haven’t seen anyone.”

“Kids?” Drake asked.

Joliet looked mortified. “There are children on this island?”

Hawkins realized he hadn’t explained Kam’s involvement or his request to save the litter to Joliet or Drake. “I’m going to give you the short version for now,” he said, and then broke down the story into bite-size, nearly impossible to believe morsels.

When he was done, Drake looked wounded. “Bennett and Kam?” He shook his head.

“If it helps,” Hawkins said, “Kam’s involvement seems mostly forced. He was trying to protect his family.”

“And now that includes these children?” Drake asked. “His brothers and sisters?”

“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Bray said. “They’re chimeras, just like the others on this island. They could be dangerous.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Drake said.

“But what if he was telling the truth?” Joliet asked. “What if they’re more human than animal and they’re just children who had nothing to do with the horrible things done on this island? We can’t just leave them.”

Hawkins looked up the tall hill. His energy had yet to return, but he didn’t think waiting any longer would be wise. Who was to say the mercenaries wouldn’t decide to cut their losses, evacuate the island, and carpet bomb the place? “Here’s how we’re going to do it. Once we get to the top of this hill, we’re hauling ass all the way to the coast.”

Joliet raised a hand in objection. “But—”

“Kam didn’t give us any instruction on how to find the children. Searching for them could—well, we all know how that could turn out. He said they would find us. If they don’t, they don’t. If they do, we’ll revaluate when the time comes. Now, move your asses.”

Hawkins led the ascent. While the going was slow, the many ridges and crags made the climb easy. Halfway up, Hawkins paused to look at a fern atop a ledge. The leaves were tangled oddly. Ten feet farther up, he found a leaf pushed into the damp soil. Toward the top of the rise, he took hold of a vine and gave it a yank, testing its strength. It would hold if they climbed one at a time. But that’s not all he learned—halfway up, the brown vine held a five-inch-long darker splotch of color.

“What is it?” Joliet asked. “I haven’t figured out what you’re looking at yet, but I know you found something.”

They stood on a five-foot outcrop of stone, just ten feet from the top of the hill. The vine rose up over a moss-covered stone, which now held Hawkins’s attention. The moss had been indented in several spots. “Bennett came this way. He’s heading for the boat. He’s going to beat us to it.”

“Then let’s go!” Bray said.

“But that’s not all.” Hawkins pointed to a tree that grew out over a twenty-foot drop. “Halfway up the trunk.” He’d spotted the grooves in the bark just before he saw the blood. The lighter color of the tree’s exposed flesh made it easy to spot. “Kaiju is with him.”

Drake took hold of the vine. “Don’t see as we have any choice.”

Hawkins nodded and, one by one, they climbed the vine. The first thing Hawkins noticed at the top of the hill was the noise. The hill had acted as a natural barrier, blocking the cacophony of sound from reaching them. But here, just feet from the crest, he could hear the sharp report of automatic gunfire, the shrieks of draco-snakes, the cries of seagulls, the screams of men, and the monotonous whup of helicopter blades. Lots of them.