Choy asked.
"It appears that corners were cut. I can only assume why. I know Dr. Whiting was under financial pressure from the museum to bring in some results before they ran out of money. And... well, you know the rest of the sad story."
"Whiting killed himself."
Peter nodded. "Such a waste. He was a brilliant researcher."
Ellen Choy heaved a sigh. "There seems to be a lot of unanswered questions about this project."
"Yes, and I doubt even our good Prince can answer them."
Twenty-One
----
J ACK B AKER LOOKED AT HIS newly stitched wound and grinned. It was still bleeding. Not heavily, just a steady ooze. "I'm impressed. Looks better than some I've had done by doctors."
"I use to sew a lot when I was a teenager. We didn't have a lot of money, so I made most of my clothes."
"Looks like it paid off. Anyway, thanks. It feels better already."
"At least till the Lidocaine wears off."
The rain began to slacken. It was still falling steadily, but the downpour was over. In another five or ten minutes, Jack knew, it would stop altogether. He stepped across the clearing to check on the others. The lean-to hadn't done much to shelter them; they were just as wet as he was.
Hammond sat up. "Did you hear that scream before?"
"I did."
"What do you make of it?"
There was a bright, momentary flash of lightening, followed closely by a loud clap of thunder. Then the creature's cry pealed through the night again.
"Jesus, what is that?" Hammond asked, sliding deeper inside the shelter."
"Probably some nocturnal monkey common to this island," Baker said.
"No monkey did that to those people back there. Or have you forgotten already?"
"On the contrary, Captain, there are monkeys who can do that. They are eight times stronger than man."
Bob Turner spoke up. "He's right, Captain. I saw a show on Discovery Channel. Some were real mean muthas, too."
"Well, at any rate, we're not safe out here. We need to set up a guard schedule."
"I'll take first watch," Bob Turner said.
Hammond nodded. "Fine by me."
* * *
An hour later, Bob Turner sat at his makeshift guard post. He'd found some teak planks and stacked them next to the fire. He stood four of them upright and made cross braces from smaller limbs. Finally, he covered the whole thing with banana leaves. Turner was sure they would have all drowned in the rain had it not been for the huge leaves.
It was dark beyond the fire, darker than Turner would have thought possible. For a while, all he heard was the relentless hum of mosquitoes and the thump of his own heartbeat in his ears. But then that high-pitched howling sound came again, louder this time, closer and more urgent. It seemed to be coming from every direction.
Turner was out beyond the safety of the fire and he realized that was a mistake. He wheeled around to run back, but suddenly his forward motion stopped as though he'd hit an invisible force field.
It was no force field.
Turner looked down and saw the source of his sudden impediment. A fur-covered arm, the size of a tree trunk, had wrapped around his chest and was now dragging him into the jungle. He felt his heels cutting a furrow in the sand as if he weighed mere ounces. He tried to scream, but he could only feel the rib-crushing arm, squeezing the breath from him. He heard the snap, the cracking of his ribs, just before the thing yanked him into the black abyss of the jungle.
Twenty-Two
----
W HEN P ETER C ARLSON ENTERED THE Medical Suite, he found Ellen Choy entering a notation on a chart.
Choy looked up, gave him a smile, then glanced back at the chart and made another entry.
"You asked to see me?" Carlson said.
"Peter. Thanks for coming." She set aside her paperwork. "What I'm going to tell you doesn't leave this room."
Carlson nodded tentatively. "Okay."
Choy turned on her stool. "I had one of the guards in here this morning. One of the Tasmanian Devils in the lab bit him. I guess he was taunting one of them and it snatched his finger through the cage.
"It appears that corners were cut. I can only assume why. I know Dr. Whiting was under financial pressure from the museum to bring in some results before they ran out of money. And... well, you know the rest of the sad story."
"Whiting killed himself."
Peter nodded. "Such a waste. He was a brilliant researcher."
Ellen Choy heaved a sigh. "There seems to be a lot of unanswered questions about this project."
"Yes, and I doubt even our good Prince can answer them."
Twenty-One
----
J ACK B AKER LOOKED AT HIS newly stitched wound and grinned. It was still bleeding. Not heavily, just a steady ooze. "I'm impressed. Looks better than some I've had done by doctors."
"I use to sew a lot when I was a teenager. We didn't have a lot of money, so I made most of my clothes."
"Looks like it paid off. Anyway, thanks. It feels better already."
"At least till the Lidocaine wears off."
The rain began to slacken. It was still falling steadily, but the downpour was over. In another five or ten minutes, Jack knew, it would stop altogether. He stepped across the clearing to check on the others. The lean-to hadn't done much to shelter them; they were just as wet as he was.
Hammond sat up. "Did you hear that scream before?"
"I did."
"What do you make of it?"
There was a bright, momentary flash of lightening, followed closely by a loud clap of thunder. Then the creature's cry pealed through the night again.
"Jesus, what is that?" Hammond asked, sliding deeper inside the shelter."
"Probably some nocturnal monkey common to this island," Baker said.
"No monkey did that to those people back there. Or have you forgotten already?"
"On the contrary, Captain, there are monkeys who can do that. They are eight times stronger than man."
Bob Turner spoke up. "He's right, Captain. I saw a show on Discovery Channel. Some were real mean muthas, too."
"Well, at any rate, we're not safe out here. We need to set up a guard schedule."
"I'll take first watch," Bob Turner said.
Hammond nodded. "Fine by me."
* * *
An hour later, Bob Turner sat at his makeshift guard post. He'd found some teak planks and stacked them next to the fire. He stood four of them upright and made cross braces from smaller limbs. Finally, he covered the whole thing with banana leaves. Turner was sure they would have all drowned in the rain had it not been for the huge leaves.
It was dark beyond the fire, darker than Turner would have thought possible. For a while, all he heard was the relentless hum of mosquitoes and the thump of his own heartbeat in his ears. But then that high-pitched howling sound came again, louder this time, closer and more urgent. It seemed to be coming from every direction.
Turner was out beyond the safety of the fire and he realized that was a mistake. He wheeled around to run back, but suddenly his forward motion stopped as though he'd hit an invisible force field.
It was no force field.
Turner looked down and saw the source of his sudden impediment. A fur-covered arm, the size of a tree trunk, had wrapped around his chest and was now dragging him into the jungle. He felt his heels cutting a furrow in the sand as if he weighed mere ounces. He tried to scream, but he could only feel the rib-crushing arm, squeezing the breath from him. He heard the snap, the cracking of his ribs, just before the thing yanked him into the black abyss of the jungle.
Twenty-Two
----
W HEN P ETER C ARLSON ENTERED THE Medical Suite, he found Ellen Choy entering a notation on a chart.
Choy looked up, gave him a smile, then glanced back at the chart and made another entry.
"You asked to see me?" Carlson said.
"Peter. Thanks for coming." She set aside her paperwork. "What I'm going to tell you doesn't leave this room."
Carlson nodded tentatively. "Okay."
Choy turned on her stool. "I had one of the guards in here this morning. One of the Tasmanian Devils in the lab bit him. I guess he was taunting one of them and it snatched his finger through the cage.
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