Chapter 13: Hunters

  Click. Click. Click.

  The sound rose out of the stairwell, making the hairs on JJ’s forearms lift.

  JJ held the sublevel door with his hand, keeping it from swinging. Cold air streamed out past him, damp and metallic, like wet pennies and stone.

  Little Bear stepped in close behind him, shotgun already up.

  Loni hovered to JJ’s right, trauma kit strapped tight, her flashlight angled low, pistol in hand.

  Hector stood behind them with his own light and rifle drawn, eyes up, watching the rotunda.

  Click. Click. Click.

  JJ didn’t flinch. “Something down there.”

  Little Bear leaned forward, peering down the stairwell. His flashlight's beam is trying to penetrate the darkness. “It’s moving,” he murmured. “Your call, boss.”

  Another click. Then a pause.

  From somewhere in the rotunda behind them came a low, heavy sound, more vibration than noise. A low chuff that didn’t belong to any animal JJ had heard.

  Hector’s head snapped toward it. “You hear that?”

  Loni didn’t look away from the stairs. “Yeah.”

  JJ listened for a second, jaw locked. The rotunda was wide open, and the stairwell was narrowand concrete. Better to face whatever was down there than what was in the rotunda. JJ made the call. “LB on point, Loni behind me, Hector rear guard.”

  Hector frowned and nodded. “Oye, jefe.”

  “Safeties off heads on a swivel,” JJ said.

  Little Bear shifted to the front, muzzle angled down the steps.

  JJ stepped behind him. Loni tucked in behind JJ. Hector took the rear.

  Little Bear started down. The concrete gave a faint groan under his boot, then settled. The stairs were slick with condensation. Water dripped somewhere below.

  Click. Click. Click.

  The sound moved again, lower now, off to the side. Little Bear stopped on the next landing and raised a fist. Everyone froze in place.

  His flashlight beam found the wall. Parallel scratches ran along the concrete at knee height, old and repeated like something had brushed by repeatedly creating deep grooves.

  Hector swallowed audibly in the tight space.

  Little Bear’s voice stayed flat. “It’s small,” he said. “Probably fast too.”

  JJ nodded. “Watch your feet.”

  Little Bear grunted, then continued. Halfway down the stairwell, the clicking stopped.

  The silence that followed felt stifling. Loni’s light picked up something on the steps: a thin trail of damp marks.

  JJ crouched, ran two fingers along it, then lifted them. The moisture looked clear, but it smelled faintly sour.

  “The fuck.” JJ whispered.

  When they reached the bottom, a maintenance corridor opened before them. Damp concrete, exposed pipes, dead industrial fixtures, and black water pooled in shallow dips along the floor. Their lights glided over the surfaces, illuminating warped safety signs.

  The air was damp and cold. Little Bear eased forward, shotgun raised, flashlight sweeping the corridor ahead.

  Click. Click. Click.

  The sound echoed down the corridor, sending shivers up their spines. Little Bear snapped his light toward the sound. Something moved at the far edge of the beam, its body hugging the wall. Too big for a rat and not a dog. A long tail flicked once and disappeared behind a support column.

  JJ’s voice came out steadily. “Contact.”

  Little Bear’s shotgun rose a fraction higher. “Ready.”

  “Let’s move.” JJ crouched and moved forward, his M16 raised, sweeping left to right in slow arcs as they moved down the corridor.

  For several minutes, all was silent. Then the clicking started again, faster now, circling somewhere just beyond the reach of their lights.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Little Bear and JJ stopped. The clicking didn’t come from one direction anymore. It seemed to bounce from the left wall and right. The sounds continue to come from the concrete surface before moving to the support column ahead.

  JJ kept his M16 shouldered, then motioned them forward again.

  Hector shifted his weight in the rear, rifle angled over JJ’s shoulder. “It’s playing with us,” he muttered, the words barely above a whisper.

  Loni’s voice was a breath. “Or hunting us. Trying to lure us into a kill zone.”

  Click-click-click.

  A shape flickered at the far edge of Little Bear’s beam, still hugging the wall just out of sight. JJ caught the tail end again. He was sure it was a Dinosaur. He wished he knew which one. JJ’d gotten to meet some survivors years ago. The horror stories they told about this island made his blood run cold.

  “Watch the column,” JJ whispered.

  Little Bear lowered the muzzle a fraction and took one careful step forward, heel first, letting the shotgun lead. His light shone on the space behind the column.

  Nothing. The clicking stopped.

  For half a second, the corridor was only drips and the soft hiss of their own breathing.

  Then the noise came from above them directly overhead.

  Hector’s head tilted up. “Oh, come on.”

  JJ lifted two fingers and pointed up. Then he pointed forward. They advanced slowly and deliberately. Little Bear on point. JJ was half a step behind, covering the ductwork above them. Loni tight to JJ’s right shoulder, pistol up, flashlight beam high. Hector guarded the rear. Routinely sweeping his light up and down the corridor behind them.

  The corridor opened into an intersection with old signage hanging crooked from the ceiling. The letters were faded but readable in their beams: Evac route c

  ? maintenance yard access.

  Little Bear’s flashlight found a heavy door set into the concrete, industrial steel, paint peeling, and hinges rusted. JJ felt his chest tighten. This was it. The girls would’ve gone this way.

  Little Bear tried the handle. It turned. He pushed it open.

  Hector let out a quiet sound. “Definitely went this way.”

  JJ nodded. He aimed his rifle down the tunnel, listening. No clicking or chuffs.

  “Clear,” JJ whispered.

  Little Bear shifted to the left of the door. JJ entered first, scanning the ductwork above, then motioned LB forward.

  Cold air wafted toward them, colder than the stairwell or the previous corridor. It carried a damp, sour note. It reminded him of the substance on the stairwell earlier.

  Little Bear’s beam cut into the space beyond. The tunnel was wider than the maintenance corridor, reinforced with steel ribs, old warning stripes flaking along the walls.

  And there, low along the left side, more scratches. Parallel lines gouged into the concrete, creating deep grooves.

  Loni swallowed. “They’re marking their territory, like bears on trees.”

  They found a locker room with two long, decayed corpses. On the right wall, smeared across the concrete in dark letters that might have once been red, was an ominous message. The writing was crooked and hurried.

  Go no farther.

  Hector stared at it. “Thanks for the warning.”

  JJ crossed himself, muttering a prayer for the dead. “Come on, let’s get those kids out of here.”

  The tunnel bent slightly, then straightened. Puddles reflected their beams in broken shards. Water dripped from somewhere overhead.

  Then Little Bear halted again.

  He crouched and looked back up at JJ. “Boot prints,” he pointed to black treads on the concrete. “Two sets. We’re getting closer.”

  JJ stepped beside him. “Hopefully, they’re close.”

  Loni’s light shone on a smear on the wall, clear and glossy. She leaned close, sniffed once, then pulled back.

  “Sour,” she said quietly.

  Hector’s face tightened. “Scent marking, maybe?”

  Faint clicking echoed from ahead.

  Little Bear rose, shotgun ready. “I don’t like this game of cat and mouse,” he murmured.

  JJ nodded. “Neither do I. Pick up the pace, people.”

  They moved faster down the tunnel. The clicking kept returning, then vanishing. Click-click-click, then silence, followed by the dart of a dark shape over head in the ducts or from one shadow to another just out of reach of their lights.

  At the far end of the tunnel, the air changed. It got warmer, and it smelled fresher. A faint draft carried the scent of vegetation and damp earth.

  Little Bear slowed, then pointed forward. A beam of pale light cut across the tunnel floor ahead. Daylight leaking in from beyond.

  “That’s gotta be Maintenance yard,” Hector whispered.

  JJ’s pulse jumped. He dared to hope that they were close or close enough that the girls might hear them if they called out. “Let’s go. Hopefully, the girls are hiding somewhere in the yard.”

  Little Bear edged forward, shotgun raised and eased around the last bend.

  JJ followed his rifle up. Directly ahead stood a gate that was thrown open, a key still in the padlock. They must have opened the gate in a hurry and passed through. The four of them passed the gate into the Maintenance yard.