A pair of struggling men rolled into view from behind a workstation.

The one on the bottom was clearly losing, his belly bloody, his neck throttled by a huge hand. His attacker lifted his other arm, baring a shattered piece of bloody glass. The aggressor’s face was a blackened ruin—but Painter still noted the trace of a familiar scar.

He aimed his SIG Sauer and shot twice, both rounds piercing the man’s forehead. The giant toppled backward to the floor.

Painter hurried forward, going to the aid of the injured man. He wore a biosafety suit with the hood torn away. It was Kendall Hess.

“Dr. Hess, I’m Painter Crowe. We’ve come to—”

Hess didn’t need any more encouragement. Maybe the Marine in full battle gear behind him was enlightenment enough. Gloved fingers clutched Painter’s arm.

“I need to get word to California. I know how to stop what was unleashed from my lab.”

It was the first good news in days.

“What about Jenna Beck?” Drake asked.

Hess glanced to him, likely hearing the distress in the Marine’s voice. “She’s here . . . but she’s in grave danger.”

“Where is she? What danger?”

Hess’s gaze flicked to a wall clock. “Even if she lives, she’ll be gone in another thirty minutes.”

Drake’s face paled. “What do you mean, gone?”

2:04 P.M.

Jenna struggled through the fog filling her head. It took an extra thought for every movement:

. . . grab vine.

. . . hook leg.

. . . shimmy to the next branch.

Jori kept glancing back at her, his brow wrinkling in concern, not understanding why she was slowing so much.

“Go on,” she said, waving him forward. Even her tongue felt sluggish and leaden, refusing to form words without that same extra bit of attention.

She tried her mantra to keep her moving like before.

I am Jenna Beck, daughter . . . daughter of . . . She shook her head, trying to dislodge that haze. I have a dog.

She pictured his black nose, always cold, poking her.

Nikko . . .

Those sharp ears.

Nikko . . .

His eyes—one white-blue, the other brown.

Nikko . . .

That was good enough for now.

She focused on the boy, following his actions, mimicking instead of having to think. He slowly got farther ahead. She lifted an arm to call him, but no name came out. She blinked—then remembered, the name rising through the fog, but she feared if that haze got any thicker soon nothing would come through.

She opened her mouth again to call him, but another beat her to it, shouting from somewhere ahead.

“JORI!”

2:06 P.M.

Cutter called again, growing hoarse. “Jori!”

Earlier he had heard an explosion, saw a strange aircraft thunder past the sinkhole, followed by an echoing spatter of gunfire. He felt his world collapsing around him, but nothing else mattered at this moment.

“Jori! Where are you?”

His group had reached the base of the corkscrewing ramp and started along the long gravel road through the forest. Rahei had the lead, shouldering a rifle equipped with a stun attachment. Five more men flanked and trailed him, all heavily armed. Cutter also had a triggering device for the munitions buried below the floor of this sinkhole. It was a contingency plan if he ever needed to cleanse this place, but at the moment, he contemplated it more as an act of revenge.

If these beasts harmed my son . . .

“Jori!”

Then to the left of the road, a faint call pierced the forest. “PAPA!”

“It’s him! He’s alive.”

A joy filled him like no other—accompanied by a measure of dread. He could not let anything happen to his son.

Rahei fell back and pointed into the forest in the direction of his son’s voice. If anyone could find him, it was his sister-in-law. She was one of the best hunters he knew. She set off, dragging them all with her. She did not curb her pace to compensate for any deficiency in those that followed, and Cutter would have it no other way.

“Papa!”

Closer now.

After another minute, Rahei rushed forward as a figure that was all gangly limbs dropped out of the trees into her arms. She swung Jori in a full circle, then placed him on his feet, giving him one hard hug.

Cutter dropped to one knee, his arms wide.

Jori ran up to him and leaped into his embrace.

“I’m very angry with you, my dear boy.” But he hugged his son even tighter and kissed the top of his head.

From that same tree, another figure climbed down, falling the last two yards, but still landing on her feet.

Rahei looked ready to stun her into submission, but Cutter knew Jenna had not caused any of this. In fact, she likely saved Jori’s life. He crossed to her and embraced her, too, feeling her stiffen in his grip.

“Thank you,” he said.

Once loose, she swallowed visibly, looking like she was trying to say something. Her eyes were stitched with thick blood vessels, as they flicked around the forest.

She was nearly gone.

I’m sorry . . .

“Take her with us,” he said. She didn’t deserve to die down here, not any longer, not after saving his son. “Let’s hurry. We’ll take the secret tunnels down to the forest. I don’t know what’s happening topside, but I think we’re compromised.”

Rahei led the way again, setting a hard pace.

The road appeared ahead, but before they could reach it, the man to Cutter’s left dropped, his head falling backward, his neck cleaved to the bone. Blood spayed the branches as he toppled.

Something struck Cutter from behind, lifting him off his feet and throwing him several yards. He crashed and rolled through a thornbush. He caught sight of a massive furred flank barreling past him. He rolled to his side, staying low as gunfire erupted all around, shredding through ferns, ripping away bark, but there was no longer any sign of the attackers.

Cutter sat up, searching around.

What the hell happened?

“Jori . . .” Jenna said, her voice strained. “They took him.”

Cutter spun around, rising like a whirlwind, searching everywhere.

His son was gone.

Rahei stalked to his side, her face cold with fury.

“Where?” Cutter turned to Jenna. “Where did they go?”

Jenna pointed toward the darkest part of the forest, where the ancient jungle washed up against the walls of the sinkhole.

“Their caves . . .” he realized.

Megatherium were cave dwellers, using their thick claws to dig out burrows and dens.

Without a word, Rahei ran off, heading in that direction. Her disdain for all of them was plain. She intended to take matters into her own skilled hands. Even if it meant wiping the entire species back into extinction.




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