PREDATOR ISLAND (Sea Lab Book 2)

CHAPTER 49

Jake had a difficult choice.

In his pocket were two measly shotgun shells. That's it. Two shots to finish off a predator full of blood lust and unbelievable size and power. The creature craved its next meal more than Savannah Lockhart wanted Captain Bennett Graham's treasure. He didn't believe the two were comparable, or in the same category. But it was the only thing that came to mind as he stood with the shotgun, staring down the sights and sweeping his aim along the edge of the jungle up to the mountainside and the cliff where the waterfall originated. As he completed his search for the big black cat, he exhaled harshly, and lowered the gun.

He wanted to laugh nervously. He wanted to cry, and he might. He wanted to do anything that might relieve the pulsing throb of his blood pressure skyrocketing into the stratosphere of his brain. His body had a good reason now more than ever to seize up and croak from the tremendous stresses put on his heart and nervous system. But he was in great shape. He exercised as much as possible and ate the best he could. Thus he assumed he could roll with it and keep going. And so he did.

But once again, he pondered his predicament. Their problem. The night was far from over and the predator was still on the loose. Worse, his friends were nowhere to be found.

He considered calling out to them, but he decided against it. Getting Sarah or one of the others to reveal their location might alert the cat. And they had no weapons with which to protect themselves...at the moment. That's why he needed to take decisive action once again.

He needed to move fast before one of them saw him and yelled out to him. He couldn't risk staying out in the open any longer.

Against his own self preservation, Jake ducked his head and charged back through the waterfall. Inside, he didn't pause at the place where he'd had a showdown with the ferocious feline and won. That's right, he realized. He'd won round one of the battle. He'd stood his ground. He'd dared to let the chilly water turn the blood in his veins to ice. He'd remained true to courage in the face of fear. But in order for him to have a chance to win round two, he needed more ammunition. Courage could only get him so far. He had to be prepared too. Also, he needed to acquire more weapons to arm his friends. He wished he knew where one of Dr. Graham's rifle caches was. It'd be nice to arm all of them, even Rachel, who admittedly preferred a laboratory over a jungle adventure on a rainforest island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. But a clean and controlled environment wasn't an option as Jake hustled through the long tunnel passage, shining the flashlight ahead of him.

When he reached the large round chamber, he slowed to trot until he stopped at the earthen stairwell leading down into the lower room. It wasn't fear that brought him to a halt. He knew the cat wasn't down there. It was what came next. What he had to do. His mind could be courageous, but could he convince his stomach to play along?

Jake let the beam illuminate the steps as he descended. When he breached the entrance to the room, he stopped again, reluctant to shine the light onto Dr. Graham's broken body.

He didn't relish in the fact the doctor had died, especially in such a horrific manner. But instead, he felt sorry for him. Pitied him. It was a disgrace that a man would go to such terrible lengths to get what he wanted. Being a treasure hunter was not a bad thing in and of itself. But if someone was willing to cheat, steal, and kill for it...well...Jake thought, that was just sad. At least the man's death had been quick. He took solace in that.

Inside the room, he played the flashlight's beam across the floor to where the doctor lay. He took a breath through his mouth. The action didn't satisfy his lungs as much as he would have liked, so he inhaled again, this time through his nose, forcing air into his chest. That was better.

Slowly, he exhaled, calming himself.

Jake willed his feet to move. His steps were slow at first, and then he remembered his friends. More so, he remembered Sarah. The image of her face caused him to pick up the pace.

At the body, he knelt and raised Graham's shredded shoulder, and then fell back on his rear end with a yelp.

The doctor's head was missing.

He blinked at the darkness as his hand swung the flashlight to the side, away from the horrible sight. His stomach gurgled and wanted to retch up the last power bar and beef jerky stick he'd eaten.

He had to get it together. He had to hurry before the cat returned.

He rose to his feet and approached Graham again.

There it was...Dylan's pistol. They needed it.

Jake bent over and snatched it from the back of the body's waistline. Quickly, he stuffed it down the back of his pants.

Graham's little pistol might prove to be useful too, so he grabbed the leg, found the ankle holster and removed the weapon. He crammed the sub-nosed revolver in the front of his pants.

Now, he scanned the treasure chest where he first found the shotgun shells. In a hurry, he pocketed all he could find, which was only three rounds. But there was one other place to look for more shells.

He turned back the body.

He had to hustle. He was taking too long.

Jake knelt again, and finding some fortitude somewhere within him, he rolled the body over and located the pack around Graham's waist. Inside the little bag were three more shells. He sighed, dismayed at finding so little ammo.

He stood and checked each pistol and found nine rounds in Dylan's weapon. The magazine held ten and he'd fired once at the cat back at the campsite before he'd jumped into the river. Finally, he popped open the revolver and discovered three .38 caliber bullets. That was it. If only he knew where Graham kept more weapons and ammo. They had a shotgun with eight shells, a nine millimeter pistol with nine rounds, and three in the doctor's ankle gun.

But the cat was wounded, which meant they had a chance.

Knowing what came next, Jake turned and hustled up the stairwell. In the tunnel, he ran with determination until he made it to the waterfall. This time it didn't take near as long for him to make his exit. He had everyone else to think about. And most importantly, he had Sarah, Tony, and Rachel, his friends and the love of his life. Besides that, Dylan and Savannah were not all that bad themselves. They weren't murderers like Graham. They were people, and Jake would do everything he could to save them too.

In the pool, he swam while holding the shotgun out of the water as best as he could. The other guns had already survived submersion, so he assumed they'd be okay now.

Jake stumbled onto the bank. As he ran, his legs felt like silly putty and his arms felt like spaghetti noodles. With his body drained of adrenaline, he wondered if he was going to make it across the clearing to where he hoped his friends were hiding.

But he moved his feet, pounding through the high grass until he reached the coastline. Among the shadows, pebbles crunched among the craggy rocks. Jake thought to raise the shotgun up to aim it, but he lowered it when Sarah darted out to embrace him. In her arms, he sighed as the others made themselves visible.

Jake wished he could tell them he'd finished off the predator, but unfortunately he couldn't do that because the battle was far from over. This war had only begun.