Lost World Of Patagonia Read online

  Lost World of Patagonia

  Dane Hatchell

  Chapter 1

  Gerald Hawkins ran into Will Prescott’s back, who had stumbled on a tree root. The thick foliage of the jungle slowed them at best to a trot. With the flying terror in hot pursuit, moving cautiously wasn’t a smart action, to say the least. The terrain hindered a quick escape. The land rose and fell; sometimes the two ran up an incline of several feet only to descend farther on the other side.

  “Watch your step, man! That thing’s right behind us!” Gerald put a hand underneath Will’s left arm and helped the man gain his footing. If they didn’t make it back to the cave, the winged beast was sure to get them.

  “We’re not too far,” Will said, labored. “We just have to cross that ridge. The cave’s on the other side.”

  A branch bent under Will’s hand and snapped back, hitting Gerald smack in the nose. Fuck! Tears welled in his eyes impairing his vision. Momentarily loss of vision was the least of his worries. Seeing the monster wouldn’t aid him in any way to stop it. There were only two chances for survival. One, they both made it to the cave before turning to shredded meat by the monster’s claws. Or two, the thing would only get one of them and be detained long enough for the other to make it to safety.

  Will was in front. Gerald was in the rear. The odds were not on his side.

  As the two climbed the ridge, he considered grabbing Will by the back of his clothing and send him tumbling down as an offering to the deadly pursuer.

  “Do you hear that? It’s the drone. Since our satellite phone’s dead, Perkins must have sent the drone back to check on us.”

  “Whooptie shit! Shut up and move!” The goddamn drone wouldn’t do them any good right now. Maybe if it had a Hellfire missile to launch, but that sure as fuck wasn’t happening.

  The two were close to the top of the ridge, so close. Gerald hoped God didn’t have some sick sense of humor and pull the preverbal rug out from under them at the last second. He stole a moment to glance behind at the misty sky above. Nothing. It was too good to be true.

  Will had just stepped to the top when Gerald lost his foothold, probably from turning his attention away from his path to look for the predator. “Shit! Will!” He landed flat on his stomach and began to slide down.

  Without any hesitation, Will spun around and dropped to his knees, reaching down and grabbing Gerald by the hand.

  Fear had Gerald’s mind racing and a cold numbness gripping the back of his head. He felt lighter than air as copious amounts of adrenalin pumped throughout his body. Will had stopped his descent, and with a quick tug from his mate and his feet finding terra firma, Gerald scrambled to the top of the ridge.

  “Hurry!” Will pushed Gerald in front of him.

  The two made a mad dash to the cave opening a short distance away. The drone had made a safe landing on the flat area to the side of the cave.

  The whooshing flap of wings invaded the air behind the two. An unholy cry followed, SKEER-AK, cutting like a knife ripping down the spinal column.

  The flying monster hadn’t abandoned its hunt after all. That son-of-a-bitch was just biding its time until it had a clear shot at the tasty meat morsels.

  Sanctuary was so close. Gerald never desired anything more in his life than to reach it. He blocked everything but the cave’s opening from his mind. Gerald was an Olympic runner, kicking into overdrive to win the race. He was running from a chasing tiger toward the edge of a low cliff above calm waters. Victory was only a few steps away!

  Gerald lowered his head as if to break the ribbon across the finish line and skidded to a halt as he entered the cave’s narrow opening. Safe at last!

  The monster bird screeched again, but more horrifying than that, Will screamed out in ghastly pain.

  Dropping to his knees, Gerald spun around and saw a horrified contortion on his companion’s face he knew would haunt him the remainder of days. Two large, reptilian-like claws had a deadly grip on Will’s shoulders. Blood gushed where thick black talons embedded into soft flesh.

  Another paralyzing shriek sliced the air and echoed throughout the cave. Gerald felt his colon quiver, threatening to spill his bowel’s contents.

  In a lightning fast moment Will’s feet left the ground, and he disappeared from sight.

  The fading cries of his companion twisted the knife of dread buried in Gerald’s gut. He closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears. The screams still reverberated in his head. They were so loud he realized it was his memory tormenting him, not the uncontrollable wails of a man agonizing in pain and in fear of an unimaginable death.

  Gerald was alive. Alive! He had made it to safety. Only moments before he’d considered sacrificing Will in order to save his own hide. But it was Will who had saved him and gave him the chance to escape. Will’s unselfish actions cost him his life.

  Though he was glad he had survived, Gerald felt the heaviness of guilt weigh on him. It was only guilt, though. Harboring an ill emotion was much better than going through an excruciating death, shredded piece by piece by a flying beast that looked like the pterodactyls he saw on TV, watching The Land of the Lost on Saturday mornings as a kid.

  He had seen it enough in the initial attack to be awestruck by its savage beauty. The upperparts were a deep, glossy brown. The breast was white and streaked with brown. The head had a triangular shape at the top, and its bill was long and flat, resembling crocodile jaws filled with sharp teeth. The irises of the eyes had a golden shine and looked cold and threatening. With a wingspan of what he guessed exceeded 30 feet, this modern dinosaur was far deadlier than any bird of prey in the outside world. And at this point, even if the drone had carried a Hellfire missile, he couldn’t be sure it would have the power to kill the mighty dinosaur or just piss it off.

  His pulse had pounded like a drum in his head for so long, Gerald began to notice it again as his heart rate slowly returned to normal. Safe. Sound. For the moment, at least.

  What now? He still wore his backpack, which was loaded with the remainder of supplies for the trip back to Perkins, who waited at the truck. The hike back out would take more than a week, depending on the terrain, and what they hadn’t considered before—the strange creatures in this remote land.

  On the trip in, he and Will didn’t see any sign of threatening indigenous life. If they had, they would have turned tail and run. Screw the mission. In fact, they hadn’t seen much of any type of native life other than ordinary insects such as flies, no-see-ums, and beetles. A few times they caught sight of strange animals moving in the distance, but the creatures never stayed in view for long—always disappearing in the brush before they could get a good look at them. Which was okay by both of them. The last thing they wanted to do was worry about becoming a large ferocious cat’s or beastly bear’s dinner. Whatever animals lived in the region seemed to have a profound fear of man. Perhaps because he was a creature they were unfamiliar with.

  That was then. This was now, and whatever alerted the pterodactyl to their presence, if fear of uncertainty had played a part, it certainly did no longer.

  Gerald slowly removed the straps of his backpack off his shoulders and laid it on the cave’s floor. He pulled out one of the last two bottles of water and took a conservative sip after twisting off the cap. Not much left to survive on very long. Searching for water might turn out to be the last thing he would ever do.

  Again, what now? He grabbed the 9mm pistol from the holster. The slide was back, indicating it was empty. The pterodactyl had taken at least six direct hits from his gun. At first shot, the dinosaur had seemed startled by the discharge of the weapon, either from the gun blast or being hit by a lead projectile. When it returned for another swoop not long aft
er he and Will decided to head for the cave, the gunshots did little to deter it. So whether he hit his target or not, in the end it made little difference. Maybe a direct headshot would work. Unfortunately, Gerald had expended two magazines on the flight back to the cave—sometimes shooting blindly up into the air in hopes of warding off the foe. The other two magazines on his belt were missing. They were somewhere between the cave and about half a mile back into the forest. Fuck it. It didn’t matter much anyway.

  Gerald inched his way to the cave opening and looked around. He saw a few black droplets on the ground where Will had been snatched away. To his right was the drone. His only connection to civilization. He’d have one chance to get help, and he didn’t need to make any mistakes.

  He went back into the cave and pulled a small notebook and pen from the backpack. Turning toward the light spilling in from the cave’s mouth, he wrote.

  ‘I’m in trouble. A large flying creature I can best describe as a dinosaur has killed Will. If I try to leave the cave I won’t make it. Use the GPS and rescue me. Bring the best firepower you can. Not sure what we’re up against.’

  He put down the pen and notebook and rummaged through the backpack. His hand came back with a cloth pouch. Gerald opened it and fingered the contents, pulling out two unusual, beautiful uncut gemstones. This was his ticket out of here. Gemstones so rare the owner only had to name a price of their choosing.

  One stone was larger than the other. He almost chose the larger one, but after a thought, placed it back into the bag. Picking up the pen and notebook, he continued to write.

  ‘I’m including one of the smaller red diamonds just to prove we’ve hit the jackpot. Get in touch with Lear, tell him I have 500 million dollars in gemstones with me-and there’re more to be found. He’ll never see them if I’m not rescued.’

  Would the note work? Gerald didn’t want to beg and didn’t want to threaten. He had to play the few cards he had just right. Appealing to Henry Lear’s greed seemed to be the best bet in getting out alive. It would be too easy for the rich man to ignore Gerald’s predicament and simply fund another expedition at a later time. A 500 million dollar carrot was sure, he hoped, to make Lear act immediately and get him the hell out of there.

  Gerald tore the page from the notebook and folded it to the size of a credit card. Now the trick would be to put it in the drone along with the uncut gemstone without meeting a similar fate as Will.

  Outside the cave, trees he knew only as palms fanned leafy arms among several other towering trees of the forests. He had read somewhere that there were over 16,000 species of trees in South America. The forest was a beautiful sight to behold. It had more of an appeal before Gerald had to fear what unknown might lurk within to kill him.

  For now, everything was calm. Gerald inched his way toward the cave’s opening until his head was completely out. Nothing. Again, the calm before the storm? Perhaps, but venturing outside would always be a chance. Hopefully, the pterodactyl was still busy with Will, giving Gerald enough time to complete his task. He paused for a second at the morbid reasoning. Still, it was the truth.

  He cautiously stepped toward the drone. It was only a few yards away. His head turned like a gun turret on a tank, constantly watching the sky.

  A few moments later he was by the drone’s side. He stooped and fumbled open the small storage compartment. In went the note and the rough gemstone, and then he latched the compartment shut.

  Gerald took a deep breath and looked about the sky a final time. Please, let this work. He almost made the sign of the cross, something his mother used to do after a small prayer, but stopped. Gerald was too intelligent to be superstitious.

  His fingers found the tiny toggle switch on the fuselage. A green LED brightened as he threw the switch—the transponder now active.

  He dashed back to the opening of the cave, lay flat on his stomach, and watched the drone.

  Several minutes passed, not too long a time for Gerald to panic, but long enough that he felt incredible tension release as the engine came to life. The annoying buzz the drone made now sounded like a comforting lullaby.

  Ouch! A sharp pain pierced his right calf muscle. He instinctually kicked his leg and felt something bump against it, right before a chunk of flesh ripped off.

  Gerald flipped over and drew his legs toward his body. His hand immediately covered the bleeding calf. To his shock, a lizard about a foot in length stood on its hind legs and chewed away at the mouthful of Gerald’s flesh.

  What the hell? I hope that thing didn’t poison me. Gerald was more concerned with bacteria associated with the reptile’s mouth than the threat such a small animal presented. The lizard was just out of kicking range, and if it made one more step closer, he was going to punt it into tomorrow.

  The drone’s engine whine intensified. It was on its way and couldn’t deliver the message too soon. The buzz of the engine faded as it made its takeoff and vacated the area.

  Bastard. Gerald reached for the backpack. There were medical supplies in a kit, and he wanted to hurry and wipe the wound with alcohol to minimize the damage.

  The lizard stepped to the side, snaking its head on a long neck.

  This was the strangest lizard he’d ever seen. It continued to stand on its back legs, and now that Gerald paid closer attention, he saw why. Its front legs were too short for it to use as legs. In fact, they looked more like arms than legs. And though it was difficult to tell, he saw three fingered hands with tiny claws on the creature.

  The lizard stepped one foot forward and stuck its head out chicken-like. The tail seemed to balance the brown and yellowish body as it moved.

  “Stay back, or I’ll turn you into a belt.”

  The warning went unheeded. The bipedal lizard rushed forward and bit Gerald’s shoe.

  In one swift motion, he grabbed the critter and tossed it as hard and as fast as he could. It hit the wall somewhere in the darkness beyond, letting out a tiny cry that sounded like someone had stepped on a dog’s squeaky toy.

  “Fuck you, little bastard.” Gerald opened the backpack and pulled out the med-kit. He found a small square foil pouch and opened it. The alcohol soaked wipe stung as he cleaned the wound. It looked like the creature had taken a bigger bite than its mouth. Powerful jaws for one so tiny.

  Next, he applied antibiotic ointment and covered that with an adhesive bandage. Gerald hoped that would do the trick.

  If that lizard was still alive, it’d be back. Maybe even when he was asleep. That was something he couldn’t stand for. Gerald wished he had some bullets left, but all he had was a knife. Stabbing the thing might be hard to do. His best bet was to club it. Both his and Will’s pick and shovel were still in the cave. Now was a good of time as any to play Whack-A-Mole, or in this case, Whack-A-Lizard.

  His hand reached in the backpack and found a flashlight. He pointed it toward the rear of the cave and pushed the on switch.

  The light came on illuminating a short distance before him, and just inside the darkness six pairs of glowing green embers hovered nearly a foot above the ground. It didn’t take but a second for Gerald to realize the embers were eyes. Eyes reflecting the light of his flashlight. Not just one pair, but six. Now he had six little bastards to deal with.

  As if sensing it was: Advantage, lizard, the lounge of lizards chicken-stepped toward Gerald.

  A shovel leaned right inside the cave’s opening. Gerald picked up the small tool. He pointed the shovel at the lizards and shook it at them as a warning.

  The bipedal lizards waved their small arms about, opening and closing their clawed hands. One moved a step forward, then another three steps. From the looks of things, they weren’t going to leave without a fight.

  He brought the shovel down hard on the cave’s floor a few feet from the lizards. The abrupt noise had them retreat a short distance, but only for a moment. Before Gerald had the chance to raise the shovel in defense again, one lizard bounded forth. He had just enough time to compose himself—br
inging his hiking boot forward—and send the lizard back beyond its mates.

  “Don’t fuck with me.” Gerald brandished the shovel before him, starting to believe he was going to win this war. They were just too small to put up much of challenge. He wondered if they would make a tasty meal later on. To the victor go the spoils.

  A rustle in the far darkness gave Gerald pause. He extended his hand with the flashlight as far as it would go. Two large illuminated embers hovered a few feet above the ground.

  “Shit….”

  The damn things had a mother.

  The hiss of the large lizard seemed to embolden her offspring. All six ran toward him at once. Some attacked his legs; some leaped and hit him in the chest.

  Gerald swatted and kicked like a man attacked by a swarm of bumblebees. Clothing tore, flesh ripped, and blood started to fly. He had no choice but to backpedal his way to safety, out of the protection of the cave.

  He grabbed one little beast that had embedded hand and foot claws into his chest. With lightning fast speed, he yanked the lizard from its stronghold, and hurled it into the rocky cave’s exterior.

  With two lizards feasting on his right leg, he still managed to bring his foot up and stomp a lizard gnawing on his left ankle. He could win this fight if he acted quickly—if he didn’t lose too much blood.

  The mother beast in the cave hissed again.

  Gerald had to free himself of the minor distractions in order face her head to head.

  Another stomp, another lizard down. One of the lizards hanging on his right leg fell off, and a boot came down on it too. Gerald grabbed the other still on his right leg and smashed it to the ground. The last lizard came from his peripheral. He managed to catch it in mid-air as it leaped for him.

  The mother exited the cave, appearing as if she were about to jump the distance to Gerald, but hesitated—waving her arms and snaking her head on her long neck. Mother lizard was as big as a large dog. Her teeth were long and plentiful enough, Gerald feared, to take a man’s arm or leg off.