Neither spoke. They just watched. And listened.
After a full minute, Hawkins said, “Man, this place has me on edge.”
Joliet gave a nervous laugh. “I know, right?”
But then the sound repeated. Closer. And overhead.
Both of their heads craned up. The tall palms, mixed with other exotic, leafy trees, swayed, creaking quietly. Sunlight filtered through and the bright green leaves shimmered on the jungle floor. But there was nothing else there.
“Do rats climb trees?” Joliet asked.
“Not usually,” Hawkins replied. “Unless they’re trying to make it easy for the birds that eat them.”
“Right,” Joliet said before glancing down and seeing the hunting knife in Hawkins hand. “You know something I don’t?”
He didn’t really remember drawing the blade. “I hope not.”
Brush along the path, just twenty feet behind them, shook. He’d normally write the movement off to a squirrel. Or in this case, a rat. But he didn’t think that was the case here. They were being stalked.
“Go,” Hawkins whispered. “Run.”
Joliet seemed surprised. Did she not see the brush moving, or was he really just being paranoid? Better paranoid than dead, he decided, and said, “All the way to the beach. Don’t stop. Go. Now!”
As he raised his voice, movement swirled around and above them. He saw shifting shadows and flickering sunlight as something moved through the canopy. Nothing more. But he had learned something—the creature stalking them wasn’t alone.
There was a pack.
Joliet needed no more convincing. She took off down the winding path, moving swiftly. Hawkins took one last look around and saw nothing. Sensing the predators moving in, he followed after Joliet, knife in hand.
The trail made running easy, but it also wound a meandering path through the jungle. Fastest way between two points is a straight line, he thought, and then went off-path, cutting straight through the jungle, tearing through brush, hopping fallen trees and making a racket.
Joliet heard him coming and whipped her head in his direction. Her face was twisted with fear, but quickly turned to relief when she saw it was him.
“Don’t bother with the path!” he shouted. “Just cut through the trees!”
When the trail wound to the right, Joliet plowed straight ahead, leaping through the forest like a frightened deer. She moved so quickly that Hawkins had a hard time keeping up. Her small size let her pass by obstacles that he had to crash through, like a tank following a sports car through a slalom course.
The trees thinned and the bright glow of the beach beckoned to them. But they hadn’t made it yet. The movement around them had grown frenzied. He glanced to the side a few times and got quick looks at something yellowish, stumbling with each look back. But he didn’t have to see them to know they were moving in to strike. The creatures’ frenzied approach grew louder, their movements combined with shrill chirps.
“Go, go, go!” he shouted.
A shadow drew his eyes up and what he saw held his attention. The creature was silhouetted against the bright green canopy. He couldn’t see colors, or details, but its overall shape had been revealed. It had a rounded head, like an oversize, dull arrowhead. He saw four legs sporting clawed feet, splayed wide. The body was just a foot long, but its tail, which wagged frantically back and forth, extended another foot. But none of this held his gaze for long. It was the two translucent wings, for lack of a better word, extending out from the creature’s midsection that had him transfixed—and caused him to run into a fallen tree.
The limb caught him across the waist and flipped him ass over tea kettle like a professional wrestler. The loud “oof!” that escaped his lungs and the thud of his body hitting the jungle floor spun Joliet around.
“Mark!”
He pushed himself up and shouted, “Keep going! Get help!”
As he caught his breath, Hawkins noticed he no longer held his knife. While keeping his eyes up and on the lookout for danger, he searched the area around him with his hands. I’m lucky I didn’t fall on the blade, he thought. What an idiotic way to die that would have been.
A chirp that was one part whistle, one part growl spun him around. The creature stood upon the fallen tree, staring into his eyes. It was three feet long from snout to tail and covered in yellow-and black-striped scales. Its size wouldn’t normally intimidate him, but the hooked inch-long claws it used to cling to the tree looked dangerous. And when it chirped again, he saw two rows of needlelike teeth accompanied by two snakelike fangs. The wings he’d seen were now gone, folded beneath the creature’s pale belly.
Even though the lizard looked imposing, and its ability to fly was certainly surreal, Hawkins felt he could handle the creature, even without his knife.