Read Online Z. Raptor by Steve Cole - Free Book Online Page A

blankly.
    â€œHarm short for Harmony.” She rolled her eyes. “Sucks as a name, right? Harmony Collins.”
    â€œI’m Adam.” He realized he was still hanging on to her hand so he shook it, screwing up his eyes against the sun’s glare. “I was on a ship that was attacked.”
    â€œLast night, I know. Saw you go down.” She mimed a pair of binoculars to her eyes, then lowered them.
    Adam’s relief took a smack to the guts as he was hit by sudden doubt. The girl looked half starved, a real survivor—but what if she was part of a trick, someone sent out by Geneflow to pick up any survivors? To pick up him specifically?
    â€œThere’ve been a few wrecks,” Harm went on. “Lucky for you, it seems to be the ships the monsters attack, not the people. Even luckier, the raptors didn’t sniff you out as soon as you washed up onshore.”
    Adam sat up so the sun wasn’t in his eyes and he could see Harm-short-for-Harmony properly. She was a littler older than he was, the soft lines of her face hardened by experience, her skin darkened nearly black by the tropical sun. Her hair was long and clumsily braided, held off her forehead by a wide, grimy white band. She looked painfully thin; bony ribs poked from beneath her cropped sky-blue top and legs like sticks from her cutoff jeans. She wore a tatty white satchel on a strap over one shoulder, but it looked empty.
    She shifted uncomfortably. “What’s the matter? You were expecting maybe Robinson Crusoe?”
    â€œI’m sorry.” Adam realized he’d been staring. “I didn’t know anyone was in the lifeboat when I swam out to it.”
    â€œThat’s ’cause I didn’t want them to see me,” she explained. “I was looking for anything useful that washed in.”
    â€œGlad that included me.”
    â€œNot so sure it does, yet.”
    Adam half smiled and looked around edgily, wondering what to do. As he did so, he saw a dark red figure standing on a cliff top; a smaller raptor, like the one in the video. As he tensed, it turned and bolted, vanishing from sight.
    To tell others? Or to trail them more discreetly?
    He looked out to sea. Oh, Dad, why aren’t you here?
    As the boat bobbed over a wave, something rolled against Adam’s fingers. It was a half-full bottle of water, caked in sand. Thirsty after his ordeal, he automatically pulled off the top to swig from it.
    But Harm snatched it from his grip. “Are you crazy?”
    â€œWhat?” he asked. “I haven’t drunk anything since last night.”
    â€œI haven’t drunk anything since lunchtime yesterday,” she informed him. “There’s no fresh water on this island. So this is like gold, got it? You can have a sip. Just one for now, ’kay?”
    â€œSure.” Adam gingerly took back the bottle and wet his lips. Harm took the bottle from him, hesitated, then took a tiny gulp. She closed her eyes and shook a little, savoring the taste. Then quickly she resealed the bottle and pushed it under her seat. “It’s going to be that much harder now,” said Harm, “picking up stuff from those beaches. Place will be crawling with raptors. And we need all the supplies we can get.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œMy group.”
    Adam raised his eyebrows. “Are there lots of you here?”
    â€œNot anymore. We’re down to three—four, counting you.”
    Adam shifted in his seat uneasily. “How long have you been here?”
    â€œThree months.”
    Three months? Adam tried to imagine a quarter of a year, trapped in a place where absolutely everything was set on killing you.
    She fixed him with her dark eyes. “Your accent. Sounds like you came a long way. How many on your boat?”
    â€œI’m not sure. Mostly American. I’m from the UK, though my dad’s from Chicago. . . .” He changed the subject. “You said your group.