The Lost Isles
4 - Creeping
Robbie covered his mouth, looking away as he heard bones crunch and tear. It let out a lighter shriek than before; it seemed to savour the meal after all this time. After feasting for some time, the creature finally tore up Sam’s leg and flew off with it, slashing through the canopy with its strong wings, which appeared to encase Robbie inside like a makeshift cocoon. Robbie sighed as it finally left. He flipped to the guide once again.
“Wingfinger (Variant B):
Wingspan: 11 metres
Height: 5 metres (crest)
Mass: 154 kilograms
Diet: Carnivore
Genetic Makeup: Hatzegopteryx (Base), Quetzalcoatlus, Cathartes, Protoles, Arambourgania
Species Notes: Specimens stick to the ground, only flying in short bursts. They often use their strong senses to hunt and scavenge small prey.”
Out of the foliage, John emerged, panting and scuffed. Brambles wrapped around his torso and leg like a morbid hand grasping.
Robbie looked up, immediately furrowing his brow and running toward him with his heavy limp.
“You okay?” John asked, running over.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Robbie mumbled, wiping the blood from his mouth.
John looked over at 2B0681, which was now sprawled across the forest floor, partly compacted like a blue, oversized tin can. Then, his eyes fell on Sam– Well, what was left of him, anyway. His limbs were dismembered, and his once fair skin now stained with the reds of his innards.
“What happened to him?” John asked.
“That creature took him out.” Robbie sighed.
“Listen, we need to get out of here. When I ran–”
“Yeah, why did you run?”
“I saw something. Something lurking in the shadows, stalking me.” John muttered, his lip quivering as he spoke. “Do you have the map?”
“Yeah, I have it right here–” Robbie paused, gripping all over his body. He looked in his vest, but no luck. “I-I lost it…” Robbie sighed.
Robbie looked around, then remembered falling from the helicopter.
“Wait, no, I gave it to Sam…” Robbie shuddered.
John and Robbie begrudgingly walked over to the destroyed frame of 2B0681. Robbie looked around Sam’s carcass before vomiting yellow bile once he realized Sam’s blood was spilling onto his vest and back. John peered inside the cabin, which was crushed and bent. Inside, John found the map and Sam’s gun. Robbie peered back at Sam’s mangled figure before seeing Sam’s combat knife, embedded in the underside of 2B0681, which now faced upward. As Robbie attempted to dislodge the knife, John found a large sports backpack, which was torn in the wreckage. John shrugged his shoulders, flicked the safety on the pistol, before attempting to pull the bag out and climbing out.
From the thick foliage, a good distance away, two green eyes shined from the dark. As John looked out the shattered windshield, locking eyes with it, he shook violently. The creature’s two eyes lifted, before a step was taken closer to the light, revealing part of a muzzle. It sniffed for a second, before stepping back, reconciling itself.
“We- We gotta get outta here, man” John muttered, handing Robbie the bag.
Robbie furrowed his brow, stuffing the map and guide in the bag, before slinking it over his back.
“Why? That creature after us?” Robbie asked, strapping the knife holder to his back pocket. John only nodded. Robbie paused, holding the combat knife, dripping blood.
From the undergrowth, a loud growl echoed through the canopy, Robbie held the knife out. John took several steps back. Out of the growth, a tiny creature emerged. It was certainly a Wingfinger, but it didn’t look like the other two variants. Robbie sheathed the knife then pulled out the guide, flipping to Wingfinger C.
“Wingfinger C
Wingspan: 5.1 metres
Height: 1.4 metres
Mass: 15 kilograms
Diet: Insectivore/Omnivore
Genetic Makeup: Cearadactylus (Base), Maaradactylus, Buceros, Vampyrum
Species Notes: Smallest Wingfinger, these Pterosaurs often fly in swarms to snatch fish from streams. They also fly to consume fruit and large insects if they get the chance.”
John saw Robbie reading the guide, before rolling his eyes.
“Does that say if they’re dangerous?” John asked, clutching the pistol.
“No, they’re fine. They can’t hunt us.” Robbie explained, looking up from the guide. In front of them, the Wingfinger C climbed up one of the trees. Out of the thick branches of the tree, several other Wingfingers emerged, chattering and squeaking to each other.
Their eyes turned to the two, revealing their solid grey pupils. As they looked, the two warbily appeared, barely moving. The Wingfingers then squeaked, causing soundwaves to bounce away and back, revealing their exact movements, seeing them move clearly, now. The large flock took to the skies, swarming around before rushing toward the two.
John immediately dropped the gun and crouched, while Robbie tried to slash one of the Pterosaurs. Soon the flock dissipated, flying towards a large cave entrance. John shook in fear, before Robbie grabbed Sam’s holster off his body and picking up the gun.
