The Island of Shattered Dreams, Part 3
An adventure in the world of The Ace of Redwater Bay
The closer we drew to Tenebrous, the less I liked it. The place was a jagged mass of jungle and cliffs ringed by treacherous reefs. Far off to the southeast, I could see a power storm, a perpetual hurricane that grew and shrank. Even this far away, I could see purple lightning crawling across the ugly dark clouds. According to Serena, the storm only occasionally reached the island. To better our chances, she had timed the mission to coincide with the safest time to avoid it. I had been in one of those things and didn’t care to do it again any time soon. Or ever.
The team crowded around the windows. I could hear murmurs of both awe and dread from the cabin as they took in the island and the storm. Whatever awaited us down there, it felt like the end of the world. And maybe, for some of us, it would be.
Serena leaned forward and scanned the coastlines. “There,” she said pointing. “What about that stretch of beach?”
I rolled the plane just enough to get a clearer view. The wide bit of sand she indicated seemed fine enough though the sea looked choppy. It was like the Mér was angry we were even there. No place offered smooth waters. While I didn’t see any red coral, which was a good sign, there were still large reefs all around the island. Any of them could tear through the hull of the plane like tissue paper. Serena’s beach seemed mostly devoid of them, but one could never be too careful.
“It’s as good as any,” I said. In preparation for landing, I checked my gauges and ordered everyone to strap in. “The wind and the sea look nasty,” I said. “The landing might be a bit rough.”
I dropped the T-247 a few hundred feet and made a short circuit over the island just to make sure we approached from the best angle. After confirming our landing site, I brought her back around for a steady approach and took my time.
I wrestled the yoke, aiming for a patch of sea well ahead of the beach so that I could guide the plane in smoothly. Well, as smoothly as possible in this godforsaken place. Cross winds made the approach tricky, and I had to slideslip the plane as the Mér drew closer. Turbulence knocked us around a bit and drew a few grunts and whimpers from the cabin.
We hit the water hard, popped up for a second, and then came back down. Despite the roiling waves, I managed to time our glide up to the beach just about right. I guided the plane as close as possible to the shore. I had one of the Smith brothers drop the anchor before I killed the engine and declared us safely landed.
“You call that a landing?” said Giuliani. “I thought you were supposed to be an ace.”
Roman let out a guffaw. “As if you could have handled it better, pasty mudak.”
Giuliani sneered at Roman and was about to argue when Serena broke in with a commanding tone. “We’re losing daylight and need to make camp. Leila and Mira get the inflatable up and start ferrying the stuff that can’t get wet. Smiths, carry a couple of crates and then post up while we unload. Everyone else, grab gear and head for the beach.”
Without protest, the team went into motion and followed her orders.
When it was just her and I in the cabin, I said, “We’re going to need another couple of anchors. The sea here is bad enough, I’m worried about the plane drifting. That Roman guy seems like he bores easily, so I can have him help me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why?” She asked the question as though she thought I was up to something.
I blinked at her. “Unlike some of these yahoos, I actually follow through on my word. And you know that better than anyone.”
Her face reddened momentarily before she nodded. “Alright, but don’t spend too long on it. The sooner we find Gehrig’s trail, the better.”
“That’s why I’m taking the explosives guy. Your tracker and Captain Amazing over there can start on that effort right away.”
She cocked an eyebrow at me. “Captain Amazing?”
“Hey, it’s better than ‘bumbling idiot.’ I have other names, but I’ve already said the nicest ones.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a faint smile, the kind that used to make my heart skip. But that was a lifetime ago; a lot can happen in a year. I grabbed my pack and followed her to the open hatch leading out of the cabin. Though I stood well above the waterline, warm, salty spray from the waves splashed up in my face. The sea was still churning, and the T-247 bobbed uneasily against its anchor.
The beach was a strip of gray‑brown sand littered with driftwood and the occasional broken shell. The jungle behind it rose like a wall of brown and green. So dark and thick was its canopy that it swallowed all light. Roman was already getting his tent prepped as I sloshed through the few yards from plane to sand. Wind coated everything in sand.
“Roman,” I said as I set my pack down. “Help me with the spare anchors from the hold. We need to secured the plane before she drifts into the reefs.”
He grunted something in a language I didn’t recognize that I took to be agreement and waded with me back toward the plane. Though short, the guy was built sturdy. Together, we hauled the heavy iron anchors through the surf. The water pulled at our legs, threatening to drag us under.
The sun dipped low, painting the sky in bloody oranges and purples that matched the distant storm’s glow as we set the first anchor deep in the sand. We then swam out to attach the lines to the plane’s undercarriage. Roman cursed colorfully as a wave nearly knocked him off his feet, but we got it done. By the time we finished my arms burned and sweat and seawater stung my eyes.
Back on the beach, the campsite was a hive of activity. Leila and Mira worked like machines, hauling crates of rations, medical kits, and spare parts up the slope. The Smith brothers struggled with a massive wooden crate. Their grunts blended with the roar of the wind and the swaying of the palm trees.
Giuliani was digging through the crates and making notes as he muttered in his native Aspalian.
“Damn fine work, lad!” Carlton bellowed as I trudged up the beach. He clapped me on the back hard enough to rattle my teeth. “Thought we were goners for a second there. Hell, I’ve stared down charging rhinos smoother than that.”
I forced a grin. “Save the flattery for the ladies.”
He let out a hearty laugh in response.
Serena directed the chaos like a general. Her voice broke through the wind as she shouted, “Carlton, clear a perimeter. Chop back the underbrush. We don’t want any surprises slithering in from the jungle.”
Calrton saluted and then moved to the underbrush, machete in hand.
“Amara,” said Serena, “check medical supplies. Make sure the bandages are sterile. We can’t afford any infection out here.”
The team’s doctor gave her a quick nod. “All accounted for. I’ll set up a triage station near the tents. If anyone gets hurt, they come straight to me.”
We worked as the light faded. Hacking at vines with machetes, driving stakes into the sand, and stringing up canvas tents that flapped like sails in the breeze. Strange calls echoed from the jungle: hoots, screeches, and something deeper, like a rumble that vibrated in my chest. The air was thick with humidity and carried the scent of rotting vegetation.
By the time the last crate was unloaded, the sun had vanished, the air had turned cooler, and the jungle’s chorus of insects rose in volume. Stars twinkled to life in the sky, and the moon cast weak silver light over the beach. Our cluster of tents surrounded a central fire pit with crates stacked as makeshift barriers. Smoke curled upward from the fire and carried the scent of burning wood and damp earth as the team slumped around the fire and wolfed down cooked beans and seared ham, compliments of our surprisingly able chef, Leila.
Serena addressed the group as we finished eating. “Tomorrow, we move inland to find Gehrig’s trail. No one leaves the camp without permission. First watch goes to Carlton. Two-hour shifts. Roman next, then Connor.”
Carlton puffed out his chest. “Nothing I can’t handle, ma’am. Here’s hoping they try something. Ha!” He grabbed his rifle and a lantern and strode to the edge of camp with exaggerated swagger.
Exhaustion hit me like a sack of potatoes. My muscles ached from the two-day flight, the treacherous landing, adding more anchors, and the hours of pitching camp. I crawled into my tent and peeled off my sweat-soaked shirt before I collapsed onto the cot. Sleep pulled at me, but the wind and noises from the jungle kept me on edge. Insects buzzed incessantly and every rustle in the underbrush made me twitch.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been dozing when the tent flap rustled. I sat up, hand instinctively reaching for my rifle. Serena slipped inside, her silhouette outlined by the faint firelight outside. She was still in the same clothes as before though I noticed that her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to show the curve of her neck. Her hair draped loose around her shoulders.
“Connor,” she whispered as she knelt beside my cot. “Trouble sleeping?”
I rubbed my eyes. “What do you want, Serena? It’s been a long day.”
She placed a hand on my arm. Her touch felt warm and comfortable. “Indeed, it has. We’ve been through a lot over the last couple of years. Maybe we should talk. We could…clear the air.” Her voice was soft, laced with that old allure. She leaned closer, her breath brushing my ear. I could smell her as her fingers traced a line up my chest. “Or we could do more than talk…”
For a moment, I froze. Memories flooded back: days exploring a neighborhood or meadow, nights spent dancing and laughing, whispers under starlit skies. But right behind them came the bitterness when she gave me back the ring and threw away our future.
I grabbed her wrist and gently but firmly pushed her away. “No, Serena.”
She smiled. “I’m not asking for a distraction, Connor. I’m offering a reminder of who we used to be…or maybe what we could be again.”
“Not here, not now, not ever. I’m not your fiancée anymore,” I said, giving my tone a hard edge. “I’m only here, repeat, only hear to see this thing through. After this, you and I, we’re through.”
Her mouth worked and she looked genuinely hurt. Then her expression hardened. “Fine.” She stood abruptly and slipped out. The night outside suddenly seemed colder and the shadows deeper. I lay back and stared at the canvas ceiling with my heart pounding. Sleep came fitfully after that. I was haunted by dreams of storms and bad memories.
It felt like only minutes later I bolted awake to sound of scream jolted me awake.
Carlton’s voice, pleading and terrified, pierced the humid night air. “Help! Get it off me!”
I jumped up, grabbed my rifle, and burst from the tent. Lanterns flickered to life as the team scrambled out, weapons in hand. It was black as pitch. The moon was a thin crescent barely cutting through the cloud cover. Carlton’s lantern lay smashed at the jungle’s edge, its oil spilling flames that danced erratically.
I snagged an electric torch and sprinted after the noises coming from the jungle. The flashlight revealed walls of twisted vines and the occasional phosphorescent fungus. Then I spotted him. Calton was being dragged backward deeper into the underbrush. Something massive had him by the legs, but I couldn’t tell in the dim moonlight what it was. Carlton thrashed and kept firing his rifle wildly into the night air. The thing let out an ear-splitting screech that shook the trees.
“After him!” Serena shouted as she rushed forward with her pistol drawn.
Mira and the Smith brothers charged ahead of me using machetes to hack at the vines. I followed as my heart hammered at my chest. The jungle suddenly felt oppressive and the darkness pressed down on us. I could hear the distant rumble of a storm, wind howling through the trees, and the faint cries of unseen creatures. And over all that, Carlton kept screaming. Once a narrow path had been cleared, I pushed through ahead of them.
We caught up just as the creature hauled the hunter into a small clearing. Weak moonlight spilled over the scene, and I caught a glimpse of it. The beast was huge, stood on two thin legs, and was easily the size of bear. Instead of fur, it had scales—or were they feathers?—that shimmered even in the dim light. Its shape reminded me of the images of dinosaurs in my schoolbooks as a kid. Shadows abruptly obscured its form as it dragged Carlton under a clump of nearby trees.
The creature lifted one of its clawed feet and slammed it into the ground, sending a spray of dirt and dark liquid into the air. Carlton screamed again as it stomped on his legs with a sickening crunch. I raised my rifle and took aim. The others fired shots, but most ricocheted off various trees. Those that did hit the beast seemed to have no effect on it.
I steadied my breathing, aimed for what looked like a softer spot near its neck, and squeezed the trigger. The crack echoed, and the beast reared back with a screech that made my ears ring. Hot ichor sprayed and smelled of brine and rot. It released Carlton and hissed at us before it vanished into the shadows, leaving a trail of broken branches.
I rushed to Carlton’s side. My hands shook as I took in the damage. His legs were twisted at unnatural angles. The bones had been cracked and crushed beneath the blows from the creature. Blood, dark and slick, soaked his pants and pooled in the dirt. The Smith brothers lifted him carefully, grimacing at the sight.
“Everyone back to the camp! Now!” Serena ordered.
I tried to keep my voice steady. “Hold on, Carlton. We’ve got you.”
We hauled him through the underbrush as branches whipped our faces and snagged our legs. The firelight flickered off the tents as we approached the camp, casting long shadows over the area. Amara was awake and headed our direction.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“Some…thing dragged him into the jungle. His legs are crushed. He’s bleeding badly.”
Amara directed us to the triage tent, and we laid him on the table. By the time he was settled her hands were already gloved and ready.
“Tourniquets,” she commanded, taking control of the situation. “Here and here.” She looked at me as she pointed and began tying off his right thigh with practiced efficiency. She pointed to the Smiths, each in turn. “You and you. Out.” I was nowhere near as proficient but remembered enough of my training from my air force days to make it work.
Then, I played the role of nurse as she fought to save the man’s life. The smoothness of her movements stood in stark contrast to the chaos this night had brought. She seemed awfully skilled for being, in her words, “new to this kind of work.” Blood soaked the sand as she cleaned wounds, stitched arteries, and injected morphine from her kit. She stemmed the bleeding, set what bones she could, and bandaged his wounds. Finally, she emerged from the tent and wiped sweat from her brow. The rest of the team hovered outside the tent. Their faces looked pale in the lantern light.
“He’s stable for the moment,” she reported, “but his legs are crushed. Infection’s a risk, and he needs real medical attention. We have to get him off this island.”
Serena crossed her arms. “If he makes it, he makes it. He knew the risks. Our mission is too important to turn back now.”
Amara’s eyes widened. “Serena, we can’t just—”
“We can and we will,” Serena cut in. “Do whatever you need to keep him alive. We’ll adjust the plan.” She addressed the rest of us. “We’re down a man, but the rest of us need to press on.” Her gaze settled on me. “Connor, you’ll pick up the slack and take over Carlton’s duties.” She squared her shoulders and gave me an icy look. “You’re capable enough.”
I glanced at Carlton’s face through the gap in the tents flaps and then back at her. I felt a mixture of anger and guilt. Anger, because she had dragged all of us to this horrible place. Guilt, because I had called the man an idiot the previous evening. Grudgingly, I nodded.
Most of the team went back to their tents. With Carlton’s condition stabilized for the moment, we re‑established the watch rotation. I took first shift. With my rifle slung over my shoulder, I sat down on a log we’d turned into a bench near the fire. By then, the fire had burned down to a few smoldering embers.
The night stretched on. For a while, the wind picked up and rattled the canvas of the tents as a storm threatened to roll in from the west. After what felt like an eternity, the storm abated and dwindled to just a few flashes of lightning and a distant rumble. What a night this had turned into. A sudden snap of a twig pulled me out of my contemplation. A shadow moved at the edge of the jungle, but I couldn’t quite make it out.
I held my breath and listened. Something out there breathed. The sound was shallow and made a disconcerting hissing sound. I could feel my heart thudding in my ears.
Then I saw an eye within the trees staring back at me, yellow and angry.
I lifted my rifle and took aim. Before I could fire, the creature turned and disappeared into the undergrowth. I took several running steps toward it but stopped. After a few moments, I lowered my rifle, breathing heavily as the jungle’s sounds returned to a subdued murmur.
When the first light of dawn fell across the camp, the team slowly emerged one by one from their tents, bleary-eyed and exhausted. The sky was awash with tones of gray, pink, and gold. Storm clouds still loomed on the western horizon. If it rolled this way, I had no doubt we’d see rain later in the day.
I turned wearily and took in the jungle. Even under the light of morning, it looked alive and hungry. Somewhere within, Gehrig’s secrets waited along with who knew what else.
I sighed, dreading what was coming and feeling more tired than I ever had in my life.
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