Alex Scarrow - Day of the Predator

‘I’m not so sure they’re people, anyway,’ said Sal, quietly watching the canoe approach the nearby riverbank. A hundred and fifty yards away, the long canoe rode up gracefully on to the silt. The figures aboard the boat put down their paddles in the bottom and began, one by one, to jump off the front and on to the mud.

Even Maddy could now make out that they weren’t human.

‘My God, look at their legs,’ whispered Forby. ‘Like… just like goat’s legs, dog’s legs.’

‘Dinosaur legs,’ added Cartwright. ‘In fact, therapod legs. A bit like velociraptors.’

‘Forget their legs,’ said Sal, ‘check out their heads!’

Maddy squinted, wondering whether her eyes were playing tricks on her. ‘They look like bananas?’

‘Elongated,’ said Forby, shaking his own head. ‘Weirdest damned thing I ever seen. They look sort of extra-terrestrial.’ He turned to the others, his voice lowered. ‘My God! Do you think that’s what they are? A species of alien that’s arrived and colonized our world?’

Cartwright dismissed the man. ‘The legs suggest some possible ancestral link to dinosaurs. The heads? Damned if I know where that shape has come from.’

They watched the creatures spread out along the silt, holding spears in their hands and probing the mud with them.

‘What are they doing, do you think?’ asked Maddy.

As if in answer to her question, some unrecognizable pig-sized creature emerged from a hole in the mud and scurried across the silt towards another hole. The nearest of the banana-heads quickly raised his spear and threw it with practised efficiency. It skewered the small creature, and left it struggling and squealing on its side.

‘Hunting!’ said Forby a little too loudly.

One of the creatures suddenly turned to glance their way. The four of them instinctively hunkered down behind the gently waving fronds of a large fern.

‘Think he saw us?’ hissed Forby through gritted teeth.

Maddy looked up at the ragged outline of red brickwork around the corrugated shutter door, the portion of the bridge support that existed within the archway’s field. Luckily most of it was shielded by a giant species of tree she didn’t recognize; drooping waxy leaves the size of umbrellas hung low over them. A perfect camouflage.

‘I think we’re hidden,’ she whispered.

They watched through gaps in the swaying leaves as the creature, still curious, slowly paced up the silty bank towards them, cocking its long head curiously on to one side. Closer now, they could see a lean hairless body covered with an olive skin, an expressionless face of bone and cartilage and a lipless mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.

‘It’s really ugly,’ offered Sal in a whisper. ‘I really don’t want to go make friends with it.’

Maddy noticed Forby raising his gun warily, a finger slipping across the trigger. She nudged him gently and shook her head.

Don’t.

He nodded.

‘It’s beautiful,’ whispered Cartwright. ‘What a magnificent creature! Look at it!’

For a moment it lingered there, scanning the rainforest in front of it, not seeming to spot them or the squat brick shape of their archway. Then, finally, it seemed to shrug, turn away and head back towards the others, calling something out with a mewling whine and a clack of its sharp teeth.

‘I’ve seen enough. We should go back inside,’ said Maddy. ‘There’s work to be done.’

‘Don’t you want to learn more?’ asked Cartwright.

She shrugged. ‘Why? If we’ve managed to get lucky and locate Liam

… then none of this will ever have happened.’ She looked at Forby, who seemed relieved at the idea of heading back. ‘Be pointless learning anything about these things really… if you think about it. They soon will belong to the world of Never Were.’

Cartwright made a face, a mixture of disappointment and frustration. ‘All right,’ he conceded. ‘Let’s get on with it.’

65 million years BC, jungle

‘Did you hear that?’ said Laura, her eyes round with fear.

They’d heard it all right. Although the jungle was soon due to stir with its concert of nocturnal cries and calls, the sun had only just slipped from the sky, leaving behind thin combed cirrus clouds stained a coral pink from its waning light. The jungle was on the turn, the stillness between those that lived in the day and those that prowled the night.

But there it was again. A desperate female cry for help. It was one of the four they’d left behind, either Keisha Jackson or Sophia Yip.

‘… Please… help me…’

‘It’s Keisha!’ said Jasmine. She turned to the others. ‘It is! It’s Keisha!’

‘Which direction did it come from?’ asked Liam. It wasn’t far off, somewhere within the apron of jungle around their clearing. Could be coming from any direction, the mischievous way voices seemed to bounce around.

‘… Help… it hurts…’

‘We have to go help her!’ said Edward.

‘Negative,’ said Becks. ‘The hominids could still be on the island.’

Laura’s eyes darted back to the finger on the ground. The light was getting dim enough for it to be almost, mercifully, easy to overlook. ‘ Could be? ’ she exclaimed. ‘They’re h-here, all right.’

‘Or they’ve been and gone,’ added Whitmore. He looked at Liam. ‘We’ve got to go help the poor girl! She could be dying!’

‘… Please…’

Whitmore nodded across the clearing. ‘It came from over there.’ He grabbed a spear and turned to the others. ‘I’ll need help lifting her.’

Edward grabbed a spear and joined him. Howard and Juan did likewise.

‘OK,’ said Liam, ‘go get her.’ He turned to Laura, Akira and Jasmine. ‘We need this fire going again. Can you see to that? Big fire, all right? Big as you can make it.’ They both nodded. ‘And, Becks, we need that windmill contraption running.’

She nodded. ‘Affirmative.’

‘And, all of you,’ he called out, particularly to Whitmore and the others already jogging in the direction they hoped to find Keisha, ‘all of you, stay close together! No one goes on their own!’

He watched them go, four of them all armed with spears. In the jungle on their way back from laying down their clay tablets, they’d been infinitely more vulnerable to ambush, and yet the creatures had warily held back… only jumping Kelly, he presumed, because he’d been entirely on his own.

He looked anxiously around the clearing. The girls were just a dozen yards away working on the fire, and Becks merely thirty yards from him, busy trying to re-jig the windmill. Liam tried to think quickly. He wasn’t exactly alone here in the middle of the clearing, but he’d have felt happier having another one or two people standing right beside him. His eyes darted to the dark entrances of a couple of the nearby lean-tos, the small gateway to their palisade, possible hiding places. Possibly containing one or two of them.

Liam. Stay calm, Liam. Stay calm.

Broken Claw watched the new creatures approach. Four of them armed with their killing sticks.

He turned to the others, crouched nearby, and softly hissed for them to make ready. He turned towards the younger one, crouched next to him. The youngest ones of the pack were best at this particular skill — mimicking the calls of wounded prey — their voice-boxes being smaller, allowing them a much higher pitch, the shrill pitch of fear and desperation.

He clacked his claws gently, instructing the young one to do it once again.

The young female’s jaw opened, and her tongue and voice skilfully reproduced the cries the female new creature had been making earlier today as she lay dying from a fatal stomach wound.