Jason Frost - Warlord 05 - Terminal Island (11 page)

D.B. ducked, even though the trash can bounced harmlessly off the wire mesh. “This isn’t working, Doc,” she said, hugging the wall. “Go back to the first signal. He liked that.”

But Eric’s concentration was impenetrable. He took another step closer to the ape and started combining the two hand signals in sharp, emphatic gestures. First one, then the other. Over and over. This enraged the ape even more. He ran around uprooting plants, tossing leaves and branches into the air like a madman.

Then he came back to the cage.

He was huffing now, air panting from his mouth in angry puffs. He glared at Eric. Suddenly he raised his right hand high over his head and slapped it palm down on the ground with a resounding thump. He sat back and waited. Obviously it was Eric’s move now.

Eric walked up to the wire mesh that separated the two of them. They were less than a foot apart now, their eyes locked in communication that bridges all species. Eric gestured with the same two hand signs again, repeating the combination over and over.

The ape jumped up, roared, and charged the wire.

“Jesus Christ!” D.B. screamed, flattening herself against the rear wall.

Even Eric backed up now, though not out of fear. Each step was slow and deliberate. She thought he was almost smiling.

The gorilla clawed at the wire, poking thick black fingers through, trying to rip the wire loose. He butted his head into the wire, yanked on it, tried to climb it, even attempted to chew it.

Then the wire started to rip.

“He’s getting in!” D.B. hollered.

Eric nodded calmly. “That’s the plan.”

“What fucking plan? He gets in, eats us, and we escape in his stomach?”

Eric repeated the hand signals and the ape redoubled his efforts to get at them.

“Stop that,” D.B. said. “He gets the point.”

Eric looked over at her as if he didn’t understand her panic. “Trust me,” he said.

“Forget it, mister. I’ve seen that movie before. No survivors.”

The wire had stretched and buckled and the 400-pound ape was jerking on it with all his might. Within seconds he would be inside their cage.

“One of us has to occupy him,” Eric said, “while the other gets out.”

“Define occupy.” D.B. looked at Eric. His expression was blank as if he hadn’t yet decided which of them would do the occupying and which the escaping. It didn’t matter. The ape had torn a large enough hole in the wire that, with some effort, he could squeeze through. All decisions would now be his.

But while the gorilla was twisted sideways, trying to bully his lumpy body through the wire, Eric charged straight for him. He spun around, whipping his right foot in a slashing arc that caught the ape on the jaw and knocked him sideways. A little. The ape seemed more surprised than hurt. Eric charged again, snapping two sidekicks into the stunned animals’ head. Blood trickled from the ape’s mouth.

“Ready?” Eric asked D.B.

“For what?”

“As soon as he pops in here, you run out and jump the wall.”

“What about you?”

He smiled. “I’ll be right behind you.”

The silverback was almost inside now. His right leg was caught, the thick matted fur snagged on the torn wire. He roared angrily, yanking on his leg, and it scraped through the jagged wire leaving tufts of black fur capping the metal ends.

He was inside.

The room had been small before, now it was suffocating. Like the graves in the cemetery they’d run away from. D.B. backed into the side wall and waited for Eric’s lead. Her legs wobbled so much she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move when the time came.

Eric faced the ape, not giving an inch. He spoke calmly to D.B. as if he were discussing the history of a plant. His calmness helped her find some strength. “Just slip around him when it’s clear and jump through the wire.”

D.B. nodded. “Sure, simple enough. Squeeze by a four hundred pound gorilla without him noticing.” Slowly she inched along the wall, her back scraping the cement.

Eric balled his fingers into fists. He had no intention of sacrificing himself to this hairy monster. Tim was still out there somewhere. So was Fallows.

Now that he was inside, the ape seemed a little cautious. Blood still dripped from his lip as he stalked Eric, leaning on one set of knuckles while lifting his free hand like a club. The heavy arm swooshed at Eric just as he dodged away, but the ape was faster than Eric thought. He whipped his arm back immediately and caught Eric on the shoulder, knocking him into the wall. Eric rose shakily.

“I’m going to charge him,” he told D.B. “That’s when you go. Ready?”

D.B. nodded.

“Now!” Eric lunged at the ape, dropping to the ground and sweeping his leg behind it, whacking the backs of the ape’s knees. It was an old trick Big Bill Tenderwolf had taught him. “Old Hopi fighting technique,” he’d explained. Eric had said, “I saw Bruce Lee do it in
Enter the Dragon
.” To which Big Bill had shrugged and said, “Bruce Lee is half Hopi. I thought everyone knew.”

The ape stumbled to his knees and D.B. bolted for the wire. Her skinny body slipped through easily and she darted for the wall.

Eric hesitated. He could easily take advantage of the moment and kill the ape with a crushing blow to the windpipe, or even blind it with a thumb-gouge to the eyes. It would be so simple, take only a second. Size and strength didn’t matter in such matters, only anatomy. Death was mathematical. Cut off the air, it dies. No more threat.

Last night the ape had crushed him, but not out of malice. It had followed the Oriental woman’s command to immobilize him. And it had done so playfully, as if it were all a delicious game. Now, sprawled on the floor, it looked angry, confused, frustrated. Like Eric.

Leaving the ape, Eric ran for the opening in the wire. It was harder going out than coming in because the ape’s body had bent the wires inward, the jagged edges lined up like thorns. Eric pried them apart and stuck one leg through, slowly easing his body after.

Suddenly a heavy thump hit his back and he was propelled through the wire slot, the metal raking skin and shredding clothes. He slid chest-down along the pavement, lifting his head enough to avoid scraping off the skin. When he stopped sliding, he flipped over in time to see the ape jump out of the cage and run toward him. Eric cursed his own weakness in not killing it.

Even Eric’s speed and agility were no match for the ape’s anger. In two bounds it was on Eric, flashing teeth and swinging both arms. The first double blow just grazed Eric’s back as he was trying to roll out of the way, but the force was enough to drop him flat. Eric lashed out with a desperate punch to the ape’s nose, but there wasn’t much of a nose to damage. The surprise of the blow made the ape pause, but that was all. Then he slammed a fist down on Eric’s thigh and the leg went numb.

“Stop it!” D.B. cried.

Eric saw her standing behind the ape now. She was swinging the branch he’d earlier torn from the tree. The branch thudded into the ape’s silver back and he looked around, annoyed. She swung again.

While the ape was distracted, Eric scooted out of his reach. D.B. whacked him again with the branch. A cloud of dust puffed from his fur with each blow, as if she were beating a rug. The ape grabbed for her. She poked the branch at him and he snatched it from her, jumping up and down with it while she backed away.

“Run for the wall!” Eric told her.

She did.

The ape took a couple of steps in her direction but Eric tossed the yellow trash can at him. It bounced off the ape’s head. He turned back to Eric, rubbing the back of his head.

D.B. was almost to the wall.

The ape was scowling at Eric, coming toward him. Eric eyed his throat. One clear shot, he thought, that’s all I need.

“Spock!” the woman’s voice called.

The ape looked up. The Oriental woman was running toward them. She drew her gun from her holster and pointed it at D.B. “Get away from that wall or I’ll shoot.”

D.B. was just at the base of the wall. She stopped, held up her hands.

Tucking the gun under her arm a moment, the woman faced the ape, making sure he was looking at her, even at twenty yards away. She made a chopping motion with her right hand into the palm of her left. “Stop,” she said slowly, repeating the motion. “Stop.”

The ape stood still.

She gripped the gun again and approached cautiously. She waved D.B. over, waiting until they stood next to each other with their hands up before walking closer. When she saw the blood on the ape’s lips, she pointed the gun at Eric’s face. “You bastard, you’ve hurt him.”

“He’s a real brute sometimes,” D.B. said.

“You think it’s funny?” the woman said, flipping a curtain of long black hair over her shoulder. “I should shoot you both right now.”

“We only wanted out of here,” Eric said.

“Then why did you come in in the first place?”

“Food,” D.B. said.

The woman’s dark eyes glared at D.B. “This is not a supermarket. These are living creatures, most very rare.” Her British accent tattered a little with her anger, her Chinese origins showing through.

“Look,” Eric said. “We were hungry. We made a mistake. You let us go and we’ll be on our way, no harm done.”

“The harm’s already been done.” She motioned with the gun. “Now I’ll have to find another cage for you two. How did you manage to tear that one open?”

“We didn’t,” D.B. said. “He did.”

“Spock?” she said. “Impossible. He would never attack you.”

“He doesn’t take a joke well,” Eric said.

“Joke? What joke?”

Eric repeated the signs he’d made that had enraged the ape.

“Woman,” she said, reading the first. Then the second, “Dead. Killed.” She jabbed the gun against Eric’s chest. “You told him I was dead!”

“Wow,” D.B. said. “No wonder he was so pissed.”

“We couldn’t break out,” Eric said, “so I needed him to break in.”

The woman spat out a long stream of Chinese, to which Eric answered in Chinese.

“Shit,” D.B. said. “I shoulda known.”

The woman gazed at Eric thoughtfully. “You learn your Chinese in Vietnam?”

“Thereabouts.”

“You have a Vietnamese inflection.”

“I’ll work on it. You learn your English in Oxford?”

“Cambridge.”

D.B. sighed disgustedly. “Ain’t this sweet. A class reunion for eggheads.”

The woman ignored D.B. “So, you speak Chinese. And you know Ameslan.”

“Ameslan?” D.B. asked.

“American Sign Language,” Eric said. Then to the woman, “I know enough Chinese to keep the peanut shrimp from being too spicy. The Ameslan is something I picked up to communicate with my deaf students.”

“How altruistic,” she said, a disbelieving edge to her voice.

“The school paid me extra for it if that’ll make you feel better.” It was a lie of course. Yes, he knew Ameslan, but he’d learned it in the Night Shift from Dirk Fallows. A silent way to communicate in the jungle while stalking your prey. Big Bill Tenderwolf had taught him some Hopi sign language, but very few knew it anymore except historians. Even Big Bill used to get it mixed up, signing, “Let’s go get a drink of turtle.”

D.B. tugged her choke collar. “Listen, let’s wrap this up, okay? Our names are—”

“No!” the woman said. “I don’t want to know names.”

“Well, shit, even your ape’s got a name. Spock.”

At the name, the ape looked at D.B.

“See? You a trekkie?”

“What she means, D.B., is she doesn’t want us to be personal, with names and such, in case she has to kill us. Right?”

“You came to kill my animals. I need make no excuses.” She held her five feet stiff and defiant, like the gun. “You aren’t the first to come here. Only one ever managed to kill and he in turn was killed by Spock.”

“And the others?” Eric asked, suddenly interested.

“Secure.”

He took a step toward her. “Where?”

She cocked the gun and aimed it at his face. “Stay there. I’ll shoot.”

He kept coming.

She pulled the trigger.