Low vegetation shook.
“The plan,” Hawkins said, stepping to the first of several switchback rises, “is to run like hell. Go!”
He sprinted up the first rise with the group close behind. But they weren’t alone. A chorus of angry shrieks rang out behind them.
Waves of draco-snakes descended like a squadron of kamikaze fighter jets.
21.
Knowing it would be nearly impossible to shoot one of the fast-moving draco-snakes with the rifle while running, Hawkins turned it around and wielded it like a club. A shriek drew his eyes up. A large chimera specimen fell toward him, wings tucked under its belly, limbs pulled in tight, jaw unhinged and open. It fell like a missile with fangs, straight for Hawkins’s face.
Hawkins swung up with the rifle, but what should have been a direct hit missed completely. The lizard extended its wings with an audible fwap. With a twist of its head, the creature spun away, sailing downhill until it clung to the side of a tall palm.
He couldn’t decide if they were smart or just easily intimidated. Either way, swinging the rifle around seemed to keep the creatures at bay. “Stay aggressive and they’ll keep back,” he shouted to the group behind him.
Just as the words exited his mouth he felt an impact on his left shoulder. He turned to find a draco-snake clinging to him. A line of sharp pinpricks stung his flesh as the creature’s needle-sharp claws slipped through the fabric of his olive green T-shirt just as easily as it did his skin. But the sting of his pierced arm was quickly forgotten as he saw a pair of short fangs dripping venom just inches from his face.
Something coughed behind him and suddenly the draco-snake was no longer there. Hawkins caught sight of it when the three-foot-long spear through its chest pinned it to a tree with a thunk.
Bray frantically tried to reload the second of his three spears, but the ungainly weapon wasn’t cooperating.
“No time for that,” Hawkins said, heading to the second switchback. “We need to get to higher ground!”
He swung out with the rifle, striking a draco-snake inbound for Bray’s head. The butt of the rifle struck the creature’s spine with a crack, breaking its back and knocking it to the ground. The creature twitched at Bray’s feet.
Bray wound up with the speargun, mimicking Hawkins’s rifle club technique. He brought the weapon down with a savage strike, finishing off the draco-snake—and the speargun, which bent at a sharp angle. It wouldn’t be firing any more spears. Bray discarded the weapon and held his two spears, one in each hand. They whooshed loudly as he swung them at passing dracos.
“Move it!” Joliet shouted as she passed the pair.
Drake followed her, swinging the ax at everything that got close.
Hawkins and Bray charged up the switchback trail, swinging and shouting. Hawkins knew that anyone, or anything, nearby would hear them coming, but the element of surprise only worked if you were still alive.
With each switchback, they rose higher above sea level so that the draco-snakes at the bottom of the hill would have to scurry up after them. The creatures weren’t nearly as fast, or agile, on land as they were in the air. By the time they reached the fifth switchback, the creatures had all but vanished. Only their angry shrieks from below remained.
Propelled by adrenaline, the group kept a swift pace to the top of the hill. Hawkins retook the lead as they approached the pillbox clearing. Moving more slowly, he shouldered the rifle and scanned the area. Seeing no danger, he lowered the weapon, stumbled into the clearing, and sat down in the neatly trimmed grass to catch his breath.
Bray sat himself down next to Hawkins, then lay down on his back and stared at the blue sky above the clearing. “That … was awful.”
Joliet sat between them, her canteen already at her lips. After taking a long drink, she pointed to Hawkins’s arm. “We should patch that up.”
Hawkins looked at his shoulder. There were eight overlapping quarter-size bloodstains on his shirt, four on one side, four on the other. He pulled the sleeve up, which stung as the coagulated blood peeled away with the fabric and started the bleeding anew.
“So this is the pillbox,” Drake said. He looked it over and stepped inside.
Bray turned his head toward the small bunker. “You did a good job with the sketch. Looks like the vines have shifted, though. The numbers are covered.”
Joliet took a small first-aid kit from her backpack and shuffled closer to Hawkins. She inspected the wounds, poking the skin around them. “Well, I don’t think you’ll need stitches, which is good because I don’t know how to give them.”
She let go of the shirt to clean the wound, but the fabric sprang down, making the job difficult. “Take off your shirt.”
“You sure that’s necessary?” Hawkins asked.
“Girl asks him to undress and he asks if it’s necessary,” Bray said.
“Shut up, Eight,” Hawkins said.