PREDATOR ISLAND (Sea Lab Book 2)

CHAPTER 18

This was perfect. Jake found a jeep parked behind the old tool shed. Ferns and other wild bushes had grown up around it, but the vehicle was easy to get to. After a brief search, he found the keys above the visor. At first the engine sputtered and coughed, which garnered the attention of the rest of the group. Tony came rushing around the corner of the shed, eyes wide and a grin on his face. As the engine groaned, trying to turn over, Sarah appeared next, followed by Savannah and Dylan. Then, as if on cue, the jeep grumbled to life with a few puffs of black smoke from the exhaust pipe.

"Get out of the way," Jake hollered over his shoulder, "I'm going to back it out of here."

Everyone complied, clearing a path for the vehicle.

Jake dropped the shifter into reverse, and while looking over his shoulder, backed the jeep around from the backside of the old tool shed and stopped next to the front door. He didn't want to risk switching off the engine, so he left it running. He was afraid he might not be able to get it cranked again.

As the rest of the group trickled around to the front of the old building, Jake hopped out, found a gas can inside, and made quick work of emptying its contents into the jeep. With the can empty, his eyes watched the needle on the dashboard rise to half a tank. He grimaced. He wanted a little more than that.

"I guess that'll have to do," Jake said.

Sarah placed a hand on the small of his back, which drew a gaze from Dylan and Savannah. Jake noticed the glance from their counterparts but Sarah didn't.

"Was that the only can?" Sarah asked.

"There was another one but it was empty. The one Dylan found earlier lying on the floor in the shed."

"I have a theory," Dylan said. He cleared his throat and waited for everyone to look his way. "I don't know if you noticed it, Jake, but the interior of the shed reeked of gasoline. More than normal. I think the empty can was either spilled on the ground or poured out by someone."

"I did pick up a faint odor. Even after two months, it seemed stronger than usual. Sheds can be home to a variety of smells. Gasoline is one of them."

"When I was in there earlier, I knelt down and scooped up some of the dirt. It smelled like gas, more heavily in the center of the shed and a good bit in the back corner."

"So what's your theory," Tony asked. "Did someone try to use fire to scare away whatever ate those men out there?"

"Not unless they wanted to become a human bonfire." Dylan offered a crafty grin. "But here's what I think happened. Someone poured the gas on their head and lathered up real good to hide their scent. And then they hid in the corner while the park rangers were being slaughtered."

"Interesting take," Jake replied. "Sounds believable."

"So what you're saying is," Rachel started, "is that there could be a survivor out there somewhere?"

"Could be. Unless whoever that person was got themselves eaten at some later point. I don't know, but we should keep our eyes open just in case."

Jake tipped his head to Dylan. "Since you have the map, you can drive."

"I'll drive," Savannah said, "Dylan can navigate."

With that, Savannah climbed up into the jeep behind the wheel. Dylan took the front passenger seat while Sarah nestled between Jake and Tony on the rear bench. The back seat wasn't wide enough for four people, so Rachel squatted in the floorboard with her hands gripping the top of the front bucket seats for support. Savannah moved the shifter into first gear and released the clutch while pressing her foot on the gas pedal. The vehicle eased forward, bumping over the small rises hidden from view by the overgrown jungle floor.

The trail Sarah discovered earlier was a dirt road. The tire path showed light growth while the middle of the road had sprouted up to waist high level, coming up to the hood of their ride. On each side, ferns and low lying tree limbs scraped at the jeep, the thin branches screeching like nails on a chalkboard. Occasionally, they ducked to avoid getting stabbed by a sharp pointed limb.

Jake remembered the first key on the treasure map, something about three claws over glass, which everyone agreed must have been a waterfall, especially since one of the depictions on the border of the paper resembled one. He knew there were over two hundred waterfalls reported to be on the island. Some were small and some were big. But there were only a handful identified on the modern map that Dylan got from a hotel in Costa Rica. Turned out, he and Savannah had left a resort after finishing a story and photo shoot along the coast of the South American country. Their next story took them to Hawaii. They had wrapped up an article on a scientific research station on Oahu when they came across the mysterious couple with the map. They met them at a bar and grill located on the southern shore. A conversation ensued in which they bought the old treasure map. Dylan and Savannah explained it all to them as she drove slowly along the trail. Then came the orders for a cover story on Sea Lab and then the meeting with Cat O'Donnell in Honolulu. Then they found themselves here.

Huh, Jake thought. Adventure Magazine afforded Dylan and Savannah quite a lifestyle...skipping across the globe from Costa Rica to Hawaii and to who knew where else.

The roadway bent hard to the right, providing a view of a rushing waterway. Dylan had noted it on the map. Amidst a churning of boiling froth, the river maintained a translucent greenish-blue color. It looked pure. And it sounded invigorating.

Jake said, "I bet it's ice cold."

"If we sweat out here enough, I'm willing to go skinny dipping," Tony replied.

Rachel chuckled and glanced back at him. "I bet you would."

"Let's keep our skivvies on." Jake felt a feeling of mirth bubble up inside him.

"I second that," Sarah replied.

Savannah steered the jeep down the bumpy road, the shock absorbers creaking and complaining. Up ahead, the river curled back to the east, their left, and then took another sharp turn to the south again. The trail stuck close to the water's edge. As they continued on, a lonely coconut palm stood out from a grove of other trees.

"Stop," Tony said. "Do you guys see that?"

Savannah punched the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a halt. "What is it?"

Dylan looked up from the map. "What the?"

Aside from a loose cluster of coconuts on the ground, the tree trunk had deep vertical gashes raked into the bark. On two sides, a series of four or five marks ran up the tree to where the limbs and foliage started.

Jake and Tony exited the jeep first. Sarah climbed out next. Soon everyone was standing around, gawking at the tree.

"There are supposed to be cats on this island, but nothing that big," Jake said.

"I haven't seen a single one so far," Tony replied.

"That's because they hunt at night." Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "So, we might not see any during the day."

Dylan knelt down at the base of the coconut palm. He sighed.

"What is it?" Savannah asked.

"I've been thinking." He paused for effect, and glared up at the group. His blue eyes—which usually carried a spark of energy—seemed to be dampened with a sense of foreboding. "Maybe they should rename this place Predator Island?"