Chapter Nine
Raoul gripped the helm, knuckles white and veins bulging as the patrol boat bobbed and swayed there at the mouth of the river, the murky brown waters from the island mixing and bleeding into the dark blue of the ocean. He stared ahead, through the thin pillar of grey smoke rising from his damaged deck to where the river bent around a steep slope and out of sight, the edges of the river slapping against the banks with a force that was evident something had travelled up it at speed. Something that had changed a part of him. Made him furious. Made him vengeful, even.
He watched the water beat against the edges of the bank with a rhythm that matched the blood that throbbed in his ears, almost painful, like a dull headache. A steady and constant movement that did nothing to soothe the rage inside him. Quite the opposite. It was like the beat of a drum. Over and over, on and on. Just like the river, relentless in its movement, never tiring. Never stopping. Never forgetting. He saw Julian's ruined face, blood slick down his neck and across the deck, and the drum beat harder. Louder. The fury inside him seared hot across his face and his teeth ground together as he stared at the river. The river stared back.
The radio crackled again and the voice that had been barking at them for the last hour barked again. Diego blew a long breath through his nose, his face stern and his eyes glaring at Raoul balefully as he picked up the mouthpiece and spoke into it.
"This is Sorna Two. Negative. I repeat, we are afloat offshore to Isla Sorna." Diego pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, mouthpiece held tight and closing his eyes as the voice blared through the speaker.
"Sorna Two, this is a direct order!" The voice was sounding borderline hysterical now. "Return to port immediately! You are not cleared for entry to that island! Return to port! Is that understood? I said is that fucking understood!?" Raoul watched Diego's chest deflate as the voice got higher in pitch, his face the face of a man unhappy with where his Captain had led them and the resulting scolding from Command. "Sorna Two!? SORNA TWO!?"
Raoul sighed and switched off the radio, cutting the screeching off. Diego rocked back in his seat, setting the radio receiver in its cradle and rubbing a hand down his face.
"So what now then Two-Skins?" said Diego, not bothering to hide his displeasure. "Eh? We just going to bob here now? Ignoring HQ and signing ourselves up as the first patrol team to be struck off for disobeying orders? Eh!? What now!?"
Raoul slid his eyes over to Diego, his lip twitching, and then back to the river ahead.
"We carry on,'' said Raoul. Diego's hands fell into his lap as he spun round in the seat, his face turning to a look of incredulous frustration.
"Someone else talk to him. This is getting insane."
Raoul could feel the uncomfortable tension radiating from the crew as they stood behind him, some of them fidgeting, some of them scratching, all of them worried. They'd not seen him like this before, he knew, but that changed nothing. He heard Diego huff, and then someone took a step forward. Raoul turned and leant against the helm, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows as Edwardo tried out a painful looking smile at him, flinching as he put weight on his bandaged leg. Or maybe from Raoul's face.
"Captain. Diego's right." Edwardo's voice was quiet, careful almost. As if he were talking to a simpleton or a madman. Wasn't far off the truth really. "HQ were clear. We need to return to port. Our boat is in bad shape. Maybe we can…"
"No." Raoul cut across him, not liking the wince Edwardo made but knowing it was necessary. He looked at each of them in turn. The way he'd been staring at the river. Letting them see the determination. He needed them, but he also needed them to know he wasn't going back. Not after what happened. "You think anything is going to change if we slink back to port with nothing but a bullet riddled boat and a list of dead crewmates to show for this? You think those poachers will stop? You think anyone else is going to go after them?"
Frowns and chewed lips were his answer. Edwardo took a step back, looking out at the river. Raoul took a breath again, feeling his lungs expand and add more resolve to his fury. Diego was still standing his ground though.
"Go after them? Captain, with respect, there are only six of us. You saw the type of people they are. The weapons they have… People like that aren't even asking the questions after they do the shooting. We go back to base, we report, and then we let Command deal with this." Raoul shook his head.
"And how long will that take, eh?" Raoul lifted his chin, challenging Diego to come up with an answer. "How long for the reports to get through? For the higher ups to decide on a course of action. Even if that ended up with the justice we want, it could take weeks. And all without a single arrest. No. We all know how bureaucracy screws this." He turned back to the helm, one hands gripping the wood and the other resting on the throttle. "Those poachers will take what they want, they'll slip through the net, and then they'll be back. And how many more lives will they take doing it? How many more crews?"
"That's not for us to decide, Captain,'' said Edwardo. "You don't know what's out there. If you are serious about saving lives, think of your crew. Think of what you're asking."
"I am thinking about my crew!" growled Raoul, spit flying from between his teeth. "Or have you all forgotten what they did to Julian? A boy. Doing his job. Upholding the law. Now he's dead." He felt the rage burn hotter, dangerously close to losing real control. Dangerously close to letting his true thoughts out. That it was his fault. That he should have acted quicker. That if he'd just done something then Julian and the whole of Sorna Eight wouldn't be gone. His knuckles strained white again on the helm's wheel.
"Raoul." Maria's voice now. "Raoul. He's gone." Her voice was calm. Soothing. Her usual undertone of playful seduction was gone. He could hear the compassion now. The gentle woman beneath the lover and the officer that he knew. "There's nothing we could have done that we didn't do anyway." Her hand appeared, resting on his and squeezing. Her skin felt cool. He looked at her face as she sidled around him, her eyes soft, pleading and shining. "We go up that river, we don't know what we'll find."
"We'll find justice,'' he said, looking at her hard. "For Julian. For Ramirez and his crew."
"And what if we find the animals, Captain?" Ricardo now, chiming in from his spot by the wall. Raoul looked round at him, meeting those half-lidded eyes and for the first time finding the man's slack posture and slow movements infuriating. "None of us know how to deal with them. From what I hear, the old stories of the fisherman, the animals are a bigger problem than poachers. People that go into this island, they never return."
"A story I am sure will scare the poachers off,'' said Raoul grimly. He let out a ragged sigh. "Listen. All of you. I'm taking this boat up this river. What we'll find, yes, I don't know for sure. But I intend to find out." He swept all of them with his eyes, showing them all his intention. "I intend to find those responsible for what happened. I intend to bring them to justice, dead or alive. I won't force you to come ashore with me, but we can either do what's right together or I'll do it myself alone." There was a pregnant silence, verging on the uncomfortable again. Not much of an inspiration, he knew, but time was ticking now, and he'd taken long enough to let them have their say. "Are you with me?"
"Captain, look," said Diego, wrinkling his face a bit as if in pain or he just needed to piss. "It's not that we don't…"
"What the FUCK?!" Elena's voice cut through all of them, leaving them looking stunned. Raoul even felt a touch startled. "When we're all calling you Captain, Diego Mora Jimenez, then we'll head back to port and act the cowards on your say so!" She stalked around and stabbed a finger into his chest. "We aint calling you Captain yet though, are we? So how about you find those wrinkled prunes you claim are your balls and stand by your Captain now?"
Raoul could see the air crackle between them. Diego glared at her, but Raoul could see him backing down already. Something approaching a sheepish look was settling on Diego's face, followed by an annoyed sneer as he turned away from Elena, shaking his head and muttering. Elena wasn't done though. She rounded on Edwardo now, her head tilting back to look up at him. He frowned down at her.
"And you, big lad. Once upon a time I knew a man who'd have backed his friends to the hilt if someone so much as threw a dark look in their direction. One of our own is dead, and you mumble in your beard? What happened to the giant that would have gone toe to toe with anyone or anything for his crew?"
"I…" began Edwardo. She was already moving towards Maria.
"That's enough Elena,'' said Raoul, raising a hand. Elena looked over at him, her wiry frame vibrating with anger. "I think they get the idea." Elena's face pinched up, disappointed, as if she'd been looking forward to berating the whole crew. He looked at each of them again. Diego, Edwardo, Maria and Ricardo. Each in turn. They all held his eye, just about. That pregnant pause was back, only this time Ricardo broke it sooner.
"I'm with you, Captain Vega." Ricardo nodded, letting out a short sigh. He stood up straight, lifting his chin slightly, if slightly with a reluctant quality.
"And me." Edwardo now, shuffling forward and attempting to stand as straight as Ricardo. On his bandaged leg, his usual size seemed lessened, but Raoul could see the wounded pride compensating. Maybe Elena's scolding had worked. Maria nodded as well, her face not hiding the doubt though. Only Diego remained looking sullen. He hovered on the edge of the crew, fidgeting and huffing, shaking his head and looking at them all as if they'd all suddenly lost their minds. Maybe they had. Raoul was making every effort to ignore the dangers of where he wanted to go, which meant ignoring the doubts in his own head. The rage made it easier though.
"This is not a good idea,'' said Diego. "Julian died for nothing if we all die too. But I'm with you Two-Skins." He looked Raoul hard in the eye, and Raoul could see the fear, the resolve and Diego's own anger all swirling in that one look. Raoul nodded at them all.
"We go, then. For Julian."
Raoul spun in one fluid movement and moved the throttle forward, coaxing a grinding and coughing splutter from the haggard engines of his patrol boat. The swirling smoke from the deck turned a darker shade of grey as the boat surged forward, the hiss of the tide sounding a bit too unhappy at being disturbed as the boat cut through the water. The island loomed ever closer, the green hills, grey cliffs and dark summits of the coastline towering up and welcoming the boat with a grim silence as it passed between the steep banks.
The sky seemed to shrink away as the mass of land surrounded them, the light draining away from the bridge and plunging them all into a solemn gloom tinted with green. Raoul guided the boat down the centre of the river, feeling the current push against them. He ignored the feeling the island was trying to keep them out. As if that would stop him anyway.
Elena was looking out of the windows, head ducking and craning, as if she expected to see every animal on the island immediately. Ricardo was doing something similar on the opposite side, only slower and with more care.
"Hoping to see a big iguana?" said Diego. Elena's head whirled round like an owl, her sharp features looking sharper.
"Yes, actually." Her head just whirled back.
"We're not here for them,'' said Raoul, unable to feel the same enthusiasm as Elena was showing. "I want a weapons check now, from all of you. Re-load. Re-supply with fresh ammunition and ready yourselves for going ashore. Get your emergency packs as well. I want boots tied and belts buckled, understood?"
There was a scuffling of boots as they all cleared the bridge, sniffs and coughs going with them. The clangs of the steps faded and Raoul could hear the sounds of the crew below, checking their weapons and readying themselves for what came next. He could hear Diego pulling out the ammunition crate, the clacks of magazine's being passed around and the clicks of the springs inside them as fresh rounds were pressed home.
It wasn't long before they were back with him, faces set and with the addition of bandoliers and equipment packs slung over shoulders and clipped into belts. Maria appeared, carrying a box of walkie-talkie style radios, making sure everyone had the right channel tuned before they were slotted into belts. Sleeves had been rolled up, some of them had caps on, and all of them looked ready.
"Ricardo,'' said Raoul, turning away from the helm. "I want you here. Keep her slow and steady and keep a watch out on the banks." Ricardo nodded silently, taking over the controls at the helm. He looked strange as he stood rigid instead of his usual slouch in the chair. Twitching hands adjusted the controls as he steered the boat. "Elena, you on point at the bow. Your eyes are sharpest. The rest of you, take up positions on the port and starboard side. I want these fucks alive if we can, but if you have to shoot, you make sure you kill."
No nods this time. Just grim faces and hands gripping at rifles as they made their way out. Elena darted nimbly down the stairs ahead of Edwardo and Diego, the sounds of weapons being checked, cocked and safety catches being flicked on going with them. Maria hovered for a moment, a hand straying towards Raoul. He looked at her, taking her hand and running a thumb across the skin of hers. It was the first time he felt nothing towards her. Just the realisation he'd been wrong, about so many things. He pushed away the melding thoughts of Sofía, the kids, his home and at last Maria's naked and lithe body as it curled around his as it had so many times before. None of that seemed to matter right then. Or maybe it was just too close to feeling human. The bubbling rage was easier to understand. Simpler.
He strode past her, down the stairs and her confused face, through the cabin to his personal locker. He undid the lock and began pulling out items that had sat unused for weeks, hands swift and sure. More loaded magazines for his handgun, a basic map of Sorna and his emergency pack filled with gear in case of shipwreck. Compass, flares, rationed food in sealed packets, batteries for the radio and a multi-tool of various useful features. His finger traced the flat edge of the blade of the tool, the metal cold against his skin. Merciless, hard and sharp. As he needed to be. As he knew he would be.
The little mirror that hung on the inside of the door caught the light, and he considered his reflection for a moment. The flickering light caught the lighter tone of his complexion, a colour that was always conspicuous against that of his crew. It had never been easy, being half American. Having two skins, as he was reminded of so many times, had been a difficult cross to bear. If only they knew how close this name was to his nature. He fingered the knife edge again before securing it at his belt.
He reached for the final item, stowed against the back of his locker. Another hard, cold piece of metal, but much larger, and much more deadly. His fingers wrapped around the barrel of the M16 rifle, and its weight felt good in his hands. Reassuring, solid and with a promise of delivering vengeance. He pulled it free and slung it across one shoulder on its strap, while his pack he slung across the other. He hooked the bandolier of magazines for the rifle off the peg it hung on and slammed the locker shut, moving outside and taking a breath of the air.
Cool, yet humid, and with scents of the river and vegetation around. A far cry from the salty tang of the sea he knew so well. He looked at the green and brown river banks, steep in places, and wondered if the terrain alone was more than he was ready for, let alone anything else. He spat into the river, ignoring the doubt and looking forward.
The river meandered and twisted its way further inland, the trees on the banks growing taller, the blue sky above growing smaller as the island sought to dwarf the boat and its crew. The noise of the river competed with the chuntering grunts of the patrol boat, throwing any other sounds into muffled mysteries. It made life difficult when you were tracking people who didn't want to be tracked. And that was assuming they didn't know Raoul had been mad enough to pursue them. Raoul looked at the shoreline, considering beaching the boat and proceeding on foot. His hand opened and closed as he kicked the thought around. Much quieter, but he had no clue as to how far in the poachers had gone. Could be round the next bend. Could be miles.
He passed by Edwardo, knelt by the tattered remains of the portside railing, rifle held close and trained on the bank. He patted the mans shoulder as he passed, feeling it somewhat necessary to try and reassure him he hadn't gone mad. He wondered how convincing it was. He stood in the centre of the forward deck, Elena up front and coiled like a loaded spring, rifle panning in slow arcs over the prow as she monitored the river, the banks and anything else that fell in her sight. Maria wasn't far away, casting glancing looks his way. He ignored her. Then a shadow passed over them.
Raoul's head snapped upwards, as did some of the crew. He blew out a breath when he saw the gull, wheeling over to their starboard side now. Raoul frowned. It wasn't a gull. He looked harder, eyes squinting against the bright blue of the sky as the bird flapped its wings and headed back towards them and the river, a black silhouette cutting through the air. The sound of its wings was strange. As if someone has shaken a huge leather towel. Raoul could feel his mouth dropping open.
Here it was then. The first glimpse of one. It was strange, to finally see one. It moved fluidly, gracefully almost. Yet it's movements were so alien. Like no bird he knew. Like no animal of any kind. He simply watched it as it swooped towards the boat and away, dipping a wing and skimming the water with the tip, a strange, crested head stuck forward, a long beak only a few feet from the surface of the water.
It was difficult to judge it's size with the speed it moved, but Raoul guessed at a wingspan of five, maybe six metres. Its body was dark in colour, with flecks and streaks of yellow and earthy reds. The light caught the membrane of its wings, pale and veiny, with small, clawed fingers waggling as it skimmed over the water. It flew ahead of the boat, suddenly rising into the air with a swift beat of its wings and then diving back towards them.
The others had watched it the whole time as well, silent and in utter awe it seemed. Rifle barrels wobbled in its direction, hands tense and eyes following the animals every move. Diego had crept forward, his rifle held the steadiest.
The animal flashed past the boat, fast, yet untroubled it seemed by their presence. Raoul wasn't sure what he had expected, now that he thought about it. Was it about to attack? He'd heard the stories of the missing fisherman. Was this the thing responsible for so much fear? It wheeled back round and sped past, wingtips dipping into the water again, its long head twitching from side to side. Raoul caught the glimpse of a bright eye before it was gone. And then Diego put a foot up on the railing and took aim.
"Hold your fire,'' growled Raoul, frowning at Diego.
"And wait for that thing to take a swipe at us?!" Diego glared at Raoul. As if in response though, the creature let out sudden croak and dived towards the water at impossible speed, its dagger-like beak spearing into the water and then up again, whilst something bright silver and wiggling flashed in its jaws. The animal climbed in height and vanished above the treetops on their portside. It all happened so fast it was as if it hadn't happened at all and they'd been tricked by some shared illusion.
Their radios crackled at their belts, and Ricardo's voice garbled through.
"Your first big iguana then, Elena." His face was there at the window of the bridge above, a small smirk on his face.
"Pterodactyl wasn't it?" said Diego, letting his rifle drop.
"Pteranodon," said Edwardo, limping up like some sort of wizened teacher. They all frowned at him. He shrugged. "My kid likes dinosaurs."
"Alright then,'' said Raoul, watching the treetops. "Back to it. It's just wildlife."
"Pretty amazing wildlife, no?" said Elena, crouching back in her spot at the front. She wasn't wrong, but Raoul wasn't here for them.
The patrol boat chugged onwards, rolling on the occasional stronger current and wending its way further and further inland. The steep banks began to even out, becoming flatter in places but tangled with the intertwining roots of mangrove trees. The buzzing of insects could be heard, even above the laboured gurgling of the boats engine. Clouds of them would hover above the water, dispersing as the boat cut through them and then regrouping elsewhere.
Occasional, between the trees, Raoul caught sight of the edge of a crude and forgotten road beside the river. Evidence of the world that existed here years ago. Shapes between the trees twisted and changed as they went by, melding and morphing into half seen figures and creatures. Some of them almost looked human. Something caught his eye, in the water, and Raoul watched as a tin can floated by. The unmistakable colours of cheap American beer clashed with the colour of the water, and Raoul's lip curled at the sight of it. It meant only one thing.
"Captain," said Elena.
"I saw it too,'' he said, coming and crouching beside her, shrugging his M16 off his shoulder and couching it against his thigh. She pointed at two more, floating along towards them and bouncing off the hull. "We're getting close." Raoul slid his radio out and held it to his mouth. "Ricardo, we're closing in. Ease engines down and let us coast. We may need to go ashore. Eyes open."
The boat began to reduce its speed, bobbing a bit harder as the current pushed against its lessening momentum. The engine became a low, idling grumble, allowing the droning of the insects to replace it. Raoul felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Strange how the change in noise level made you feel apprehensive about something. His pulse picked up a bit, the drum beat going just that bit faster and his palms just starting to itch. Times like this, it was easy to do something stupid just to feel like you were doing something. Something like pulling the trigger of your weapon out of pure restlessness. He let go a calming breath, or as close as he could get.
The crew looked like they were going through something similar, all of them looking forward now from their perches or cover spots, rifles held painfully tight. Knuckles bulged white, eyes were narrowed and chests were rising and falling slowly.
They eased on, through the mangrove trees, straining to see something. Anything. Shadows flapped overhead. More of the pteranodons. Nobody looked up this time though. Raoul's radio chirped.
"Captain,'' said Ricardo. "I've got something. Gap in the trees ahead. Moored boats, looks like a jetty of some sort as well, port side. About two hundred yards." There was a short pause. "Yes, it's the ones we want." Raoul's pulse beat even faster. His mouth started to go dry, the act of swallowing difficult as he tasted the justice and vengeance. He nodded his acknowledgement, a useless action but it was more for himself.
"Ricardo, bring us up on the portside shore as close as you can then shut off engines." The boat began to list towards the large roots at the edge of the river, the deeper shade of the reaching forest creeping across the deck and covering them from the blue sky and warm sun above. The boat began to fight against the current and list suddenly, and the lower hanging tendrils of the trees scraped against the top of the bridge. The river was still deep at its edge, but Raoul could feel the occasional crunch or bump as they got closer to the bank. The patrol boat was better suited to ocean voyage, but it could cope. He hoped. Raoul flicked a glance at the bridge, seeing the murky shape of Ricardo and knowing he was manoeuvring them as close as he could before there was a metallic thunk and splutter as the engines went off, the momentum of the boat dying.
The nearest roots were only a metre or so away, and swift as a snake Elena had vaulted over the edge and landed on the closest, length of rope coiled around her arm. For a tall woman, her agility was impressive. She darted across the roots, body low and every step assured. In a moment she had the line of rope around a tree, tied fast with a slipknot. Maria had tied the other end to the boarding cleats, while Diego threw Elena another length. She repeated the process, and the boat held firm on its mooring. Raoul looked at each of them as Ricardo appeared from the cabin doorway.
"We go ahead on foot. Cut through to firm ground and approach under cover. Nice and quiet." He felt a flurry of excitement, a world away from the trepidation he usually felt when they were about to make an arrest on the ocean.
"And what then?" said Maria. Raoul ran a hand through his hair and sniffed, turning a frown on the trees beside them. He could feel the fury, still there, inside just waiting for its chance to burst free.
"Then we'll see," he said. He looked at Edwardo and his bandaged leg. "You stay with the boat for now big man. Keep your radio close. We might need you to come pick us up." Edwardo looked caught somewhere between relief and disappointment, grunting something through his beard that sounded how he looked. "The rest of you, with me."
He leapt over the railings onto the roots, landed awkwardly and almost pitched himself into the river. By sheer force of will he held his balanced and hopped to the next root, finding a trunk to hold onto not far from Elena. His rifle bumped against the back of his head, adding a touch of injury to the insult of his agility. He grunted, annoyed, and then pushed his way through the trees, from root to root, branch to branch until he could see the muddy slope of the bank.
He glanced behind, seeing the others making their way after him, faces concentrating as they found their footing and skin shining with sweat. Behind them, Edwardo's face hovered at the edge of the boat deck, watching them go and casting furtive glances around the river. Raoul stepped onto the bank and scrambled up the slope, mud sticking to his pants and boots sliding. There was enough vegetation to climb easily enough, and soon he was stood on level ground, leaning against a tree with his rifle in his hands.
The noise of the insects around them was louder now, and he slapped one or two of the more adventurous of them from his neck. He inspected the results on his hand, seeing the yellow smear of the bugs insides across his skin and feeling a grim satisfaction. The others drew level with him, suitably stained with mud on their own arms and knees, rifles gripped and eyes darting. Diego gave him that glare again, still far from happy. As if he was ever happy unless he was fleecing someone at cards. Made Raoul wonder the last time he'd been happy himsel. He glanced at Maria, and then spat into the ground, wrenching his mind back to why he'd brought them here. He gripped his rifle harder.
"Everyone alright? Good." He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and pointed towards the jetty's direction through the tree. "Whatever we find up there, nobody makes a move until my order. Understand? Good. Elena, you and I will work our way inland from here and get round behind them. You three, keep close to the river and move up under cover. If we can, we hit them from both sides and catch them with their asses in the wind." He fidgeted with the magazine in his rifle, wondering if it was secure for a moment. "Remember, I want them alive. But don't miss if you have to shoot." Ricardo was looking deeper into the trees, half lidded eyes looking not so half lidded for a change.
"And if we happen on any…wildlife?"
"If that happens,'' said Raoul, following his eyeline, "then do what you need to do to stay alive. I've asked a lot of you coming this far, but we are all getting back home together." He gave them a nod, and then looked at Elena and jerked his head in the direction of the dim forest away from the river. "Let's get this done."
Elena followed as they slipped between the trees, nimble as shadows and just as silent. Raoul ducked beneath a branch and looked back, seeing the back of Diego as he and the others pushed forwards. There was another figure though. Raoul frowned. It was only for a moment he saw it, but someone was there, looking at him. A face, haggard and slack, half in shadow. The breath caught in his throat, and he blinked, disbelief sinking its irrational claws into him. The figure was gone. In its place was a tree, twisted and shaped like a man, with drooping limbs like a slouching set of arms. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and breathed out, blinking away the face he'd been sure he'd seen.
"Captain?" Elena's voice rasped at him from ahead. He gave that tree one last look, and then followed Elena, feeling the sweat on the nape of his neck just that bit colder.
They left the droning of the insects beside the river behind, moving into forest and ferns and hearing the sigh of the wind in the tree tops above. The earthy scent of the forest floor replaced the smell of the riverside, the scent of a world unknown to them. The gentle hiss of the breeze in the trees above, slowly parting and swaying to reveal the blue sky above, masked their progress and softened the crunch of their boots on the ground. Not that they were making much noise in any case. Elena moved like a ghost. Spectral and silent, flitting between the trees like a whisper. Raoul felt his skin prickle, and he couldn't resist the urge to look back at that man-shaped tree. He couldn't see it now.
They pushed deeper, occasionally the soft chirp of the radio's letting them know where the others were and how far they'd got. The trees around them were beginning to thin after a few minutes, giving way to thicker ferns and long grass. Swathes of the green blades leant and buckled in the breeze, likes jade waves in a jade sea. Raoul barely noticed any of it.
Off to the right, through the last straggling trees, a dirt road led down from a small hill, winding through the green grass and sloping down towards the river, and the jetty. To the left, the trees gave way to the rising hills and thicker forests of the island. Above the trees, the slopes of mountains and green crags towered. Raoul ignored all of it. It didn't matter. What mattered was the jetty, and the two boats moored beside it.
Raoul and Elena sank to a crouch, submerging into the grass and slowly creeping forward to peer round from the final trees. The road that led to the jetty was maybe eight metres or so away, with the grass leading almost all the way down to the river's edge. It would have made for quite the picturesque viewpoint if it weren't for the crates, drums of fuel and God knows what else that was stacked around the riverside. Much more had been going on here than a simple docking. At a glance, Raoul could see equipment and, through a gap between two crates, a couple of ATV's. The sort of things that couldn't have been unloaded from just the two boats present. The road had fresh tracks looking like vehicles had been coming and going for some time. The earth of the rutted grooves was freshly turned. The implications began to gnaw at him.
He plucked his radio from it's pouch, holding it against his lips and not taking his eyes from the scene by the river.
"Diego. Where are you?" There was a moments silence before Diego's voice hissed through the speaker.
"We're in the grass, about twenty metres away from the jetty. We have eyes on three targets. One of them armed."
Raoul moved his head, trying to see between the crates. Movement drew his eye, the shape of someone ambling along the jetty, just visible for a moment before they were obscured. He took a long, deep breath, his fingers tingling and his gut starting to churn at the thought of what he needed to do. And what he wanted to do. Wild thoughts of standing up, screaming at the top of his lungs and spraying gunfire at anything that moved felt quite appealing, if undeniably stupid. He took another breath and put the fury on hold as he engaged his brain.
"Keep moving forward. Do not engage. We are by the road. We will move towards them and get as close to the roadside as you can. Stay hidden and wait for my signal. We can take them unaware and get them on the boat for questioning."
"Understood,'' rasped Diego. Raoul slotted his radio and nodded at Elena, wondering if he looked as determined as she did. They crawled through the grass, leaving the trees and snaking their way towards the jetty. He could hear the odd thump or mutter as they drew closer now, the unmistakeable sounds of humans shuffling about while oblivious to anything around them. Raoul peeped up above the grass and saw two of the three poachers, hefting storage crates and equipment into piles, sorting through cases of another kind and occasionally scratching their asses. They just looked like people. One of them had blonde hair and the glint of a horrendous earring in his left lobe. The other was balding with a moustache.
Difficult to see people like this as the ones who had mercilessly attacked their patrol boats, but it didn't matter much to Raoul now. They'd crossed the line first.
The third person appeared, a large rifle held lazily in his arms and whistling tunelessly, big sunglasses on a dark face and a big ridiculous hat. Raoul ducked down and carried on forwards, slithering through the grass. He heard someone cough, and then something darted through the grass in front of him. He froze, skin prickling and heart racing. Had he even gasped?
It was dark green, with waxy skin and a long tail. A small dinosaur with a beady eye on a short sharp snout. It squawked at him as it flitted away, its tail whipping him across the cheek as it disappeared through the greenery. Raoul couldn't believe it had been under his nose. The shock of it alone had stopped him from squawking back at it. Strange how it had been more startled of him though. Maybe all the stories weren't as true as he'd believed. Still, it had been a little one.
They wiggled on further, finding a good spot to get into a ready crouch. Raoul pulled out his radio again, whispering into it.
"Diego. We are in position. Report."
"We are ready. We have clear sight of all three." There was huff through the radio. The unmistakeable sound of a nervous man not wanting to say the next bit. "Awaiting orders."
Raoul took a long deep breath, his lip wrinkling and his eyes narrowing. The unmistakable look of an angry man about to do something he had been waiting do to. His hand twitched towards his megaphone before it turned into a fist when he remembered he wasn't on his familiar patrol boat, with another routine arrest to conduct. This was different now. This was the edge of it all, the start of justice. His fist uncurled and gripped his rifle whilst he spoke slowly into the radio.
"On my word, make yourselves known and order them to surrender. Advance on them and don't give them time. We will flank them. If they try anything, you know where your triggers are. Understood?"
"Understood." Raoul could hear the hesitation in Diego's voice, but he knew he would act. Raoul gave Elena a last look and then growled into his radio.
"Now!"
Raoul darted through the grass, moving towards the road and keeping the crates and storage boxes between him and three men at the jetty at the same time that he saw three figures in dark uniforms burst from the grass and start yelling.
More of the small green dinosaurs skittered away from his boots as he cleared the grass, chirping angrily at being disturbed. At the jetty, the shouting had started. English voices clashed with the Spanish of his crew, melding into a cacophony of startled and furious bellowing. Gun metal flashed in the sunlight, and his team advanced on the poachers. He saw Maria, eyes locked on the man nearest her, and he felt a sudden pang of worry. He shook it away, concentrating.
Elena darted for a crate, taking cover parallel with him. They looked at each, nodding in unison to the count of three before dashing around into the open and raising their weapons. Raoul wasn't sure if he was yelling in English or Spanish, but he could see the men got the gist. Funny how universal having a gun pointed at you can be. Their hands were going up, the eyes going wider as Raoul and his team got closer. Heads were whipping back and forth, hands twitching, mouths flapping incomprehensible babble. Anger, confusion, threats and pleas all going back and forth.
The poacher with the hat was trying to put his rifle on the ground but was caught somewhere in the middle of doing it and trying keep an eye on Ricardo, who looked like he was just itching to open fire of a sudden, suspicion etched into his face. Fear almost dripped off the poachers face. Raoul found it intensely satisfying.
The three men were dropping to their knees now, hands up and eyes down, two of them with eyes shut tight. Were these really the same people that had riddled Raoul's boat with bullets and murdered Ramirez and his crew? The same people that had left Julian with half a face and no future.
Raoul drew nearer, rifle barrel trained on the chest of the nearest man, the one with the earring. Couldn't have been older than thirty. Looked like anyone you might see on the street. Nothing overly fearsome or criminal looking about him or the other two, the same old story with the people that usually committed the worst crimes. The crew were circling the men now, their own rifles pointing at them, none of them drooping or wobbling. Raoul stepped closer, speaking in English.
"You are under arrest." The rage startled to bubble. "For trespassing. For the carrying and use of automatic firearms. For entering restricted waters and land with the intention to poach." He swallowed, that rage getting hotter. "And for murder." He could feel the urge to replace justice with vengeance. It was horribly strong, and his finger twitched against the trigger guard. The three pairs of eyes looked up at him, wet and shining and looking like they knew the cuffs had caught up with them. Until one of the sets of eyes twitched towards the boats.
Raoul frowned, his eyes sliding to the boats. Whether it was deliberate they had waited until then or just unhappy coincidence, but a figure burst from a cabin door at that moment and levelled a very large machine gun at them all. Raoul guts clamped up tight, and he felt that sinking feeling in his stomach. Again.
The gunfire that erupted from the boat tore through the silence of Raoul's neatly orchestrated arrest, and then it was chaos. Wooden splinters and shards of metal exploded from the crates around them. Earth, grass and dust churned and flew into the air, and then people were shouting and screaming again.
Raoul dived for cover as the three men they'd had at their mercy flattened themselves on the ground, two of them covering their ears as the third went for his rifle. Raoul brought his own rifle to bear but got the strap tangled up in his arm, the barrel poking off into the sky, useless. Someone was firing back at the fourth figure on the boat, allowing his crew time to seek more cover.
The two other men were up suddenly, snatching and grabbing at some storage cases and producing weapons, the grey of the gun metal looking dull and menacing as they slammed home magazines. Their faces had changed from the scared look of the condemned to the blank look of killers. Raoul freed his rifle and rolled away behind a decimated crate, springing up in one smooth action.
Used to be, when he'd pointed a gun at someone, that the idea of pulling that trigger had been harder than anything in the world. Easier to stop the tide than to willingly take someone's life. Seemed like an easy idea to get behind now though.
Growling, he pulled the trigger and felt the kick of his rifle dig into his shoulder as the rounds went off, thudding into the chest of the nearest man. The one who had looked thirty. He dropped without a sound, a look of surprise in his face. The second man had faltered, bringing his weapon up far too slowly. Seemed Raoul had all the time in the world to take a bead and hit him with tight grouping in his chest and one in his throat for good measure. Raoul just frowned as the fleshy red chunks burst from his neck and back, blood spraying in sudden gouts as the man twisted away with a cry and fell into a crumpled heap.
Maria and Ricardo were moving towards the boat now, no sign of any gunfire coming from the deck. Raoul was vaguely aware of his radio crackling at his hip, Edwardo's concerned voice coming through. There was no sign of Diego. Elena was huddled behind a crate, slotting fresh bullets into her rifle with a calm and serene face that looked like she was doing a crossword instead of engaged in a firefight.
Raoul was fumbling with his radio when the sound of an engine cut through the smoky silence. He looked up, aiming his rifle as one of the ATV's careened through the wreckage of the jetty and sped past him. The poachers hat had blown off, and Raoul locked eyes with the man before he raced up the hill and disappeared into the forest. He fired a few hasty shots at the fleeing man, and then it was quiet again. Nothing but the sound of people panting and the current of the river as it flowed past, lapping at the river banks and moored boats.
His crew began to crowd around him, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from their faces. He looked round, checking all of them. They were all there now, Diego limping up with a face that looked like the fury Raoul felt and a hand across his left shoulder. It was coming, he knew it. The angry speech about this being the worst idea and how he was going to get them all killed. It was something he could do without right then. Diego spat into the ground and looked at him.
"Well,'' he hissed, pointing at the road where it met the trees. "Are we going after these assholes or not?"