“That’s it? That’s your plan?”
Hawkins’s impatience grew again. “I don’t know if the others are alive, or even where they are. All I know is that that thing took Joliet in this direction. It left a good trail to follow, but I think it was heading in the same direction as this path.” Hawkins motioned to the path behind him. “So we’ll follow the path, find what we find, and try not to get killed. That specific enough for you?”
Bennett moved away from Hawkins and leaned against a tree. “I’ll just wait here, then.”
Hawkins closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “Bennett, I’m not sure I’ll be coming back this way. You can’t wait here. It’s not safe.”
“Wasn’t safe with you, either.”
Kid has a point.
“And wherever you end up, you’re going to have to come this way to get back to the Magellan. My ankle is twisted. I’m just going to slow you down.”
Hawkins couldn’t decide if Bennett was playing it smart or was just a coward. Either way, he had no real solid argument against Bennett finding a place to hide and lying low. He probably would have to come back this way to reach the Magellan. “Fine. But pick a spot and don’t move. If you have to piss or shit, dig a hole and bury it.”
“To hide the smell?” Bennett asked.
“A lot of predators hunt by scent,” Hawkins said. “Stay low. Stay quiet. Do not move. And stay awake. When I come back through here, I’m going to call your name once. Just once. If you don’t come out within thirty seconds, I’m going to leave.”
“You promise you’ll come back for me?” Bennett asked.
“If I’m still alive.”
Bennett gave a nod. “I trust you.” He stepped off the trail and waded into a tall stand of ferns. He ducked down and lay on his back by the base of a tree. Once the ferns stopped shaking, he was invisible. “Good?”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll try to stay here, but if I have to move, I won’t go far.”
“Good enough,” Hawkins said. He thought about warning him about the panther-child chimera, and about Cahill’s body strung up farther down the path, but decided the less he knew, the less likely he’d be to panic and do something stupid. He turned toward the trail.
Bennett’s voice stopped him for a moment. “Hawkins, good luck.”
Hawkins didn’t reply. He just followed the trail, thinking it would be a miracle if he ever saw Bennett again. He was beginning to doubt any of them would make it off the island alive.
The path before him led down the hillside. He moved slowly at first, wading past the knee-high ferns and then Cahill’s body. He considered cutting the man’s body down, but if he did that, whoever put it here would know he’d come this way. He also walked to the side of the path rather than on it. He’d rather be the tracker than the tracked.
With Cahill and the laboratory behind him, Hawkins quickened his pace. When the grade became steep, his jog became a run. When the hill leveled out, he kept on running, burning with fear for his friends. What would he do if he was the last one alive? He forgot the question when he saw signs of recent passage.
There was a footprint indented on the path, heading in the same direction. He crouched to inspect it and the motion saved his life.
With a surprised shriek the draco-snake soared over Hawkins’s head. Its wings snapped open, slowing its flight. The creature clung to a tree trunk, whipped its head around, and hissed.
Hawkins ran like an Olympic sprinter after the gun is fired. He could hear the dracos behind him. Trees shook. Shrieks grew louder. Shadows danced on the jungle floor around him. But he didn’t stop and fight. He couldn’t.
One bite, he thought. Just one bite and I’m a dead man.
The jungle ahead looked thick with brush. He’d have to plow right through and hope the draco-snakes got tangled long enough for him to elude them. His arms took the brunt of the impact as he raised them to protect his face. He felt stinging pricks all over, some sharp enough to be bites.
He shouted as the brush gave way. He spilled past the foliage barrier and fell to the ground, bathed in hot sunlight.
The cacophony of the sudden draco-snake attack fell away abruptly as Hawkins was once again expelled from their territory. He checked his body quickly, finding a multitude of scrapes, but no wounds that looked like snakebites. He also knew that if he’d been bitten, he’d already feel the effects as his blood raced through his adrenaline-charged body.
Confident he wasn’t going to die yet, Hawkins looked up at his surroundings and once again found himself baffled. He stood on the edge of an expansive clearing—a pasture, really—complete with a herd of cows. Thirty head. And each one of them was looking at him.