Travis's light flickered out. Engulfed in darkness and in a bewildered state, Travis raised his eyes to the tempestuous clouds above. The rain hadn't come yet, but soon it would. Travis relit the flame, a difficult chore with shivering wet hands, and then reached in his pocket for any scrap of paper to burn—anything to help them stay warm for the night.
Captain Danko's suggestion of taking shelter in the helicopter's remains had been met with disagreement among the other members. Travis thought the idea of sleeping on the blood-soaked floors hardly conducive to a restful atmosphere. While they debated, Captain Danko ordered them to collect firewood to help keep them warm and dry for the night, but the rain had been relentless and everything on the island was soaked, refusing to light. Reaching for flares, Ren sliced open his finger on the serrated edge of the broken cabin doors which were peeled away like the lid of a tin can. He cursed under his breath and stuck his finger in his mouth.
"We can send a distress call. The Coast Guard shouldn't be far," Ren suggested. "At the very least the black box will send a signal to home base."
Captain Danko stood with Santiago outside the co-pilot's seat inspecting the control panels.
"The communication system is looking pretty bad and emergency services aren't required to have black boxes installed."
"You've always got to be such a downer," responded Ren.
With the lighter on one hand, Travis reached in his pocket and felt a narrow, cylindrical object—the red crayon. A memento of Rebecca's that he could keep with him at all times. Now it would serve another purpose. Snapped during the crash he held one piece between his fingers. With the flick of his thumb the lighter's flame illuminated the bloody, mud-drenched expressions of his team who watched him with curiosity.
"Going to draw us a map?" Santiago teased as he sorted through the rubble. Angrily, he kicked a piece of scrap metal and then looked around before giving up and came to rest with his elbow against the helicopter's broken shell.
Travis ignored Santiago's cocky attitude and focused steadying his hands to light the crayon's paper wrapper.
The paper ignited almost immediately and the crayon burned like a candle.
Santiago offered a bemused smile while Jonah moved toward the flame like a moth in the night.
"Cool trick," said Santiago. "Where'd you learn that?"
"My wife. The crayon is made of paraffin wax. When lit it burns like a candle." Travis guided the glow of the lit crayon to his backpack to find flares and medical supplies.
"You're married?" Zahra asked.
His posture stooped and a dull ache formed in his chest making it hard to breath as he thought of his uncertain future. He turned away so the others couldn't see the pain in his eyes. "Not anymore," he said.
There was a heavy silence among them. Travis thoughts turned inward and he withdrew from the others indicating his desire to be left alone. Zahra turned back to inspect the insignias.
"What are you doing?" Santiago asked. "Shouldn't mess with things like that."
"What exactly do you think that is?" asked Zahra.
"It's a curse," Ox said. "Some island voodoo shit. That's what it is. Gonna make your eyes pop out and your skin will wrinkle like a dried apple. I know about shit like this, don't you watch Discovery?"
"I don't have cable," Zahra replied. "It might be beneficial to collect evidence."
"Evidence of what?" Santiago asked.
"I'm not sure," she replied. "Maybe it's a clue as to where we are."
Santiago had climbed into the cockpit to better inspect the tangle of wires that hung below the dashboard like angel hair pasta. He let out an exasperated sigh.
"I can't repair this. Shot to hell. Fuck."
Captain Danko moved between them and insisted that their priority should be to find appropriate shelter before the storm worsened, and pointed to the damaged and bloody helicopter.
Zahra reacted with a downward curl of her lips.
"Oh hell no, not with all this voodoo everywhere," Ox replied. "My skin is too nice to rot off my face."
Travis doubted such thing would happen but still disliked the idea of staying overnight in the bloody mess. Rainwater turned pink with blood ran through the cabin and dripped out the opened gash. There was too much of the island to explore, a mission to complete, and with all the adrenaline still rushing through his body from the crash, sleep seemed impossible, like trying to nap after a pot of coffee.
Santiago took a step forward. "Sir, if the Coast Guard is heading to Orion, if we find Orion we find the Coast Guard. It can't be far; this island is only so big."
Travis hated to agree with Santiago but the Argentinean was right. They still had a mission to complete.
"We'll split up. Team A will search the island for the missing boat and the Coast Guard. Team B will remain here with me to set up camp. Team A will need a captain." Danko's eyes landed on Travis.
Travis's pulse jittered. He's going to name me! Travis thought. But Danko turned suddenly and named Santiago in charge.
A slight press of the lips, Travis scolded himself for thinking Santiago would put his faith in him so soon after all the trouble he caused. Even worse, Danko placed Travis on Santiago's team. At least Jonah and Zahra was there to talk some sense into him if his cocky persona risked them any danger.
The two remaining, Ox and Ren, were instructed to salvage supplies with Danko.
"Take your weapons and plenty of flares. We don't know what predators might live on this island."
Disappointment was an anchor in Travis's stomach. To argue with Captain Danko would only justify Danko's decision and further disprove Travis a worthy leader. Over his shoulder he caught a sneer on Santiago's smug face.
Santiago had always been a cocky fucker, but in times of distress, his machismo attitude grew to an exponential extreme that made him difficult to reason with and clouded his judgment. That man, should he not know of a particular topic, would pretend to be an expert—a dangerous attitude when lives were at risk. Travis ignored him and reached for his backpack and bit the inside of his cheek when Santiago slapped him on the back. "You need to learn to follow before you can lead," Santiago told him.
Travis's left eye twitched, his jaw clenched. Santiago gave him another conquering pat and then walked away. Travis's grumbles were carried away by the wet, howling wind.
The uncertain island terrain for one mile west, abundant with verdure herbage, peaty soil with various creeks brought them down paths of large granite moss-covered boulders and, listening to the left, Travis could hear the boom of waves beating against a rocky shore. Dense shrubbery and spiny vines snagged at their pants from the knees down and their warm breath lingered in front of their faces before dissipating into the light marine layer that wisped through the ancient conifers.
Zahra inspected another wooden insignia carved into a lanky pine.
"You know what moths symbolize?" Jonah asked Zahra as he hopped to her side.
"Death," she replied.
Travis could see the knowing smile form on Jonah's face.
"And evolution," Jonah replied.
"Evolution?" she asked.
"Think about it. A moth isn't always a moth is it? It's born as a tiny little larva which grows into a caterpillar that crawls along the ground and up leaves until it makes a cocoon. Inside, it becomes a chrysalis—a hardened body—before it evolves into a moth where it lives out the end of its life. Depending on the species a moth can live about five weeks up to one year before it dies. It evolves from one form to another. In many cultures, the moth represents the end of a lifespan."
"So death, like I said."
"Not death," replied Jonah. "Mortality."
Ahead, the trees parted before the pebbled shore where riotous black curls of water, taller than that of any boulder that lined rocky dune, collapsed and retreated back to sea, pulling with it polished stones. They tumbled with the current resounding in a clatter that reminded Travis of a stadium thundering with wild applause. Emerging from beyond the forest line, the wind gusted a moderate penetrating gale.
Travis shivered beneath the layers of protection. Even his thermals were soaked to the skin. Zahra's hair, which had always been perfectly styled was now unraveled and stringy and matted to her forehead. She shivered harder as they neared the water's edge.
Jonah bent down to pick up a stone the size of a golf ball. It was smoother and lopsided. After rubbing his fingers across the slick dark surface he looked up at them and said, "Oil. It's everywhere." He let the rock fall from his hand and rubbed his fingers together. The substance appeared sticky on his skin, the texture of rubber cement, perhaps a bit gummier and darker in color. Definitely not oil, or at least not only oil.
"What is this?" Jonah asked.
A deep metallic groan carried through the night then sank in the howling winds. It was the sound a whale would make combined with squealing pigs or a massive dinosaur. Not that there were any dinosaurs, but as ridiculous as it sounded, he considered their situation: somehow, in the digital age where every piece of land was mapped by satellite, they had woken up on an uncharted island in the midst of one of the densest, darkest forests he'd ever seen, all because a man blew his god damned skull open in the helicopter. Putting their situation into perspective, dinosaurs seemed entirely appropriate and possible.
Zahra held still.
"What was that?"
"Was that an animal?" Jonah whispered.
The team stood in a tight circle, with their backs to each other as they scoured the darkness in all directions.
Seeing Santiago with his gun pointed straight ahead, Travis reached for his own firearm belted to his waist. Just as the groan seized them still, the sound dissipated, echoing into the night. It was a haunting metallic groan unlike Travis had ever heard. Something big that echoed even above the howling wind and raging waters.
They waited a moment longer before Santiago pressed onward, heading through old-growth foliage.
Travis felt incipient concern when Santiago's stoic expression shifted to bewilderment, awe, and a bit of fear.
"Do you see that?"
In the heavy mist and the thick ocean spray and through the abysmal night it was difficult for Travis to make out anything outside the glow of Santiago's flare. When Travis shielded his eyes from the hellish light he saw only darkness until his eyes adjusted and saw something uncanny and nightmarish.
What appeared in the mist just off shore and taller than the tree tops was not a dinosaur, but resembled an extinct beast with two large black anchors like eyes and a sharp downward curve in between like a nose and horizontal painted lines like a mouth—not a creature at all, but a ship. Not just any ship—Orion.
The bow tilted high out of the water while its face peered down at them like an apocalyptic beast set against an endless abysmal night. A modern day Marie Celeste. How many souls were still in its belly? How many had it eaten? The beast, as if to reply, let out another ethereal groan as it scraped against jagged rocks.
"I don't see the Coast Guard," Zahra said. "I thought they were supposed to be here."
"I don't see them either," Jonah added.
Santiago shook his head. "If they're not already here they're not coming. We have no other choice but to turn back."
He pushed passed Travis and made his way back through the trees, Jonah following close behind. Travis hung back for another glance at the grounded ship and the oil flowing into the ocean.
"You're thinking of getting yourself killed, aren't you?" Zahra said from his right.
Startled, Travis turned.
"I thought you'd gone off with Santiago."
"There's no way we can get to them. Captain Danko left Santiago in charge. If he thinks it's too dangerous, then I believe him. So you can either follow orders, or you can get yourself killed trying to rescue those men. They are probably dead anyway."
"You don't know that," Travis replied. "We're supposed to be the rescue team, not the ones needing rescued."
"Alright, it seems you've made your choice. So what's your plan?"
"We need to get back to the helicopter and see what equipment we can still use. If we can find a way to get from one rock to the next, we can reach the ship and climb up the side. I'm not giving up."
Travis started to turn back but Zahra remained in place.
"Are you coming?" he asked.
"Only to talk some sense into you," she replied.
As they made their way through the woods with Santiago and Jonah not far ahead, Zahra attempted to persuade Travis to reconsider.
"Back in New York, you'd be fired for disobeying a superior. How do you expect to receive any kind of promotion if you can't follow orders?"
"The order was to rescue those survivors, which is what I intend to do."
"Our orders have changed, Travis."
"I don't want to meet the person who believes orders are more important than saving lives."
"You are so stubborn, no wonder your wife left you."
His step landed uneven, a dizziness swept over him. "She didn't leave me. She died."
Zahra fell silent.
"She was struck by a car," Travis explained with an aching heart. "The driver was texting, didn't even see her until it was too late. She died on the spot." A moment of silence passed before he added: "She was pregnant."
Zahra made a choking sound.
"That's why you don't own a cell phone?"
Travis answered affirmatively in the form of a grunt and they moved ahead.
"I lost someone too. My father," said Zahra.
Travis glanced to her from his peripheral vision. "I'm sorry. You must've gone through a difficult time. How did he—?"
"He was murdered—in prison."
Travis gave her his condolences.
"He didn't do it," Zahra continued. "He was framed. He was a good man. My mother and I depended on him for everything, and when we lost him, I lost her too. She couldn't cope. She's now in a mental institution upstate New York. The doctors say she's unfit for visitors. I haven't seen her since I was sixteen. I know she's alive but it feels like she's already dead. In a way she is. The mother I knew is gone. I understand what it's like to lose a family. It hurts. The feeling never goes away."
Travis paused beside a tree where the bark had been scraped away and dripped a blackish-gray ooze like the substance on Jonah's fingers.
"Stop," he commanded.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset—"
"Stop!" Travis repeated more fiercely.
Zahra stopped moving, stopped talking. Travis looked at the scarred trunk, inspecting the quadruple gashes, one shorter than the other three. Claw marks. He was sure of it. But what animal could do such a thing? Jonah had the education and training to make an identification, but he was too far ahead.
Zahra reached out to touch it.
"No, don't." Travis pushed her hand away. "That's not sap."
"What do you think it is?" Zahra stepped close to him and he caught himself looking at her delicate shoulders, the curve of her creamy neck and gentle arc of her jaw. He told himself what he was feeling was merely the adrenaline rush of surviving the crash. He'd read somewhere that extreme distress made people's hormones go wild, caused them to fill with lust and the insatiable desire to fuck.
"Whatever it is, it's not natural," Travis finally responded, "it looks man-made."
The scream that tore through the silence and sliced the gusty air came from Santiago's direction who had gone to join the others near the wreckage. His deep cry was the sound of urgency followed by heavy shuffling. When Travis sprinted to his team, his gun aimed and ready, and Zahra tailing him, they came to a small clearing and saw Ren on the ground with his back pressed against a tree. Across his chest he held his arm, concealing a deep wound that spilled blood down his front and collected in the mud upon which he sat. Captain Danko and Ox were nowhere to be seen.
Jonah threw himself to the ground beside Ren and ripped open the fallen comrade's shirt to properly assess the wound before diving into the medical bag beside him.
Travis hadn't known Jonah to have such a foul mouth but he let out a string of curse words in panicked repetition as he fumbled with a bottle of disinfectant and a syringe.
Santiago eased Ren onto his back so that Jonah could properly clean and dress the wounds. More blood flowed out from his torso and Zahra let out a gasp as she lunged forward to assist.
Travis held Ren's head in his lap and shielded his face from the rain.
"What the hell happened?"
Jonah worked breathlessly. "These look like bite marks. Something took a fucking chunk out of him!"
Ren's eyes fluttered, his voice garbled and choked.
"It got me good, didn't it?"
"You're going to be okay," Santiago said though his tone suggested otherwise. "What did this to you?"
"Something in the woods. The others got away. Didn't see it coming."
"Hang in there Ren. We're going to fix you up," said Jonah.
The blood showed no signs of slowing. Even with pressure on the gaping wound, more continued to flow, soaking his clothes, covering their hands. Ren began to choke.
Jonah instructed Travis. "Keep him talking. We need him conscious."
Ren's hand shot outward and latched in a vise-like grip on Travis's shirt collar. His eyes were frantic, his voice weak and dire. "You have to get off this island. You can't stop it—it's coming. It's coming!"
Then his eyes closed and his body went limp.
—
Thank you for reading chapter 14 of my novel Evilution!
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-L.K. Scott