The Lost Isles
1 - Mayday
Flying a fair distance above the sea, nearly 240 kilometres east of the Tongan archipelago, a clunky helicopter sped past the low-hanging clouds. Inside, a gruff pilot rolled his eyes, though not visible through the visor on his helmet. In the helicopter's passenger cabin, two men sat. The first was more lax, resting on the metal bench. He mostly dressed in shades of brown and peach; his fedora, shorts, vest, and t-shirt exaggerated his relatively mundane personality. He looked over at the second man, who anxiously clenched the grab handle. His outfit was more professional- red tie, white dress shirt, glasses, sleek slacks, and an accessory of pens and pencils in his shirt pocket.
"So, you feeling good? Excited for the mission?" The first man asked.
"No, actually. I don't even have a cigarette, man. I wish I could light one, but the pilot-"
"No smoking in the aircraft!" the pilot yelled from the cockpit. "Pilot Samuel Mendez to Air Traffic Control, we are approaching our destination, requesting permission to land..." He said, returning to his communications.
As the first man got up to switch seats, the aircraft shook from turbulence. As he looked out the window, he froze.
"What? Robbie, what is it?" The second man asked, still seated.
Without a response, he turned to the window, following Robbie's gaze. He only saw clouds. Until a dark silhouette peered through the clouds, keeping pace with the helicopter.
“John, you know what that is?” Robbie asked.
“No.” John sat, flabbergasted at the object’s fluidity and yet animalistic propulsion.
Suddenly, the thing flew toward the helicopter, bumping it before flying under it.
“What the hell was that?!” Samuel yelled from the cockpit.
Another creature smacked the helicopter.
“Shit, Wingfingers! Brace yourselves!” Sam yelled.
“Wing-what?!” John asked, before the helicopter strafed right to avoid the pterosaurs.
“Wingfingers! Grab the guide, it’ll tell you about the creatures this damned company made!” Sam yelled.
“They’re from the island?!” John asked.
Robbie begrudgingly grabbed the sheets connected by one ring. He tried to flip to the WINGFINGER section, but another Wingfinger struck the helicopter, hitting the tail rotor.
“We’re hit!” Sam yelled. “We’re losing altitude, we need to get over the island before we crash!” Sam yelled.
John looked out the window, spotting a Wingfinger charge at the cabin. It had a wingspan of seven to eight metres, and a long, toothless beak. Some of them had a narrow crest, while others had a thicker crest. The thick crested were brighter, with shades of white, goldenrod, and indigo. The narrow-crested had duller shades.
“They look like Pterosaurs- AGH!” John groaned as the helicopter was hit again. Outside the helicopter, one Wingfinger was caught in the smoke of the tail rotor, just as another flew too close to the main rotor. Blood spilled on the windows, spilling over to the windshield.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday! Air traffic control, this is Samuel Mendez, Pilot of Walker BioEngineering Aircraft 2B0681, we’re just over Isla Deinonia, we’ve been hit by several Wingfingers, variant unknown, both rotors are damaged beyond repair, three souls on board, and we’re going down, over?” Sam yelled over the intercom.
Only static responded.
“Shit, they took out the radio!” Sam yelled.
Another Wingfinger bashed through the passenger door, climbing inside and knocking John to the ground. It pecked at Robbie but knocked him over. A different Wingfinger, the one caught in the smoke, tried to tear open the other door, but the first Wingfinger charged out, knocking the second one into the island floor. The first Wingfinger flew out, John in tow.
“They grabbed John! We need to loop around!” Robbie yelled, his grip on the guide tightening.
“We’re in free fall, you moron!” Sam yelled, trying to restart the rotors.
Meanwhile, John tried to hit the Wingfinger, but as another Wingfinger attacked the first over John, he was dropped down onto the island. He screamed in terror as he fell through a tree, getting caught in a bundle of vines and branches. He groaned as the helicopter fell into the same tree, knocking John down another six metres until he struck the forest floor with a dead thud.