Pryce woke up, relieved that he no longer felt feverish. He was still lethargic, however, and it took a great amount of willpower to force himself to get up and do some of the endless amount of work around here.
When he was done with his daily chore of tending to the livestock he made preparations to go south and to inspect the river. It was only a few hundred meters away, but he inspected his equipment to make sure it was in proper working order.
He tried to imagine how this could go wrong, and his primary concerns were the raptors, the flying creature, and any other unknown forms of wildlife around here. He briefly considered the possibility of an ambush predator hiding in the sands, but the beach was far too barren to sustain any stationary predators like that. He hoped.
Pryce slowly and cautiously stepped out onto the beach at noon, when the shadows would be smallest. Now that he knew of their existence he half-expected to see the creatures hidden all over the place. It was odd how knowing the existence of a danger could change one’s perception so drastically. The beach that seemed so serene and peaceful now seemed like a meager barrier between him and the dangers. Predators usually had their own territories, if that held true then they (along with the flying predator) should be the only animals he would have to worry about.
His rifle was slung so he could readily bring it up to a firing position, while in his left hand Pryce waved a stick in front of him as he walked along the beach, feeling like a blind man. Even if large predators didn’t exist, he might stumble across some venomous ambush predator. Hopefully the stick would agitate it and spare him some pain, if not an ignoble death.
Pryce never spent much time in the wilderness, so this environment was quite uncomfortable for him. He tried to recall whatever scraps of knowledge he overheard over the years, though most of that didn’t really apply on a beach.
The birds crying out in the forest reminded him of one piece of advice; listen to the wildlife. Animals usually had much better senses than humans, especially one that worked as a labcoat for most of his life. If the birds stopped chirping, that may be an indicator of a predator in the vicinity.
Pryce thought back to yesterday, trying to recall if the birds had stopped making noises when the raptor was near. He was quite certain it was silent, but perhaps he had only ignored them while he focused on the Raptor.
He was so focused on keeping an eye on the skies and trees that he tripped over something on the beach. He stumbled but didn’t fall, and as he straightened himself up he realized there was something in the sand; tracks.
Very, very large tracks, he realized with dismay. Possibly a meter long when they were fresh, but there was no detail in them now.
Damn, if only he'd seen these when they were fresh...he inspected the area and found the tracks beginning and ending on the beach. One set in particular was significantly larger than the others.
Pryce had a feeling he knew what made these tracks; the same creature who took the pigs. Naturally something that could fly with such a heavy load would be huge, but seeing the traces on the beach made it so much more tangible. If he were attacked, could a 12 mm bullet even work on such a creature?
He could only hope that it would.
Pryce paused as a thought occurred to him. Why did the creature land on the beach here? There was no food as far as he could tell, no blood from a kill, the only thing around was the dig site...was...was it inspecting his work?
He shook his head, that line of thought had extreme implications. He would need more proof before really giving it much credence, but he couldn’t stop contemplating the fantastical possibility of intelligent life here on the island.
He sighed as he rubbed his temple, so many things to worry about, so many potential risks and dangers. Deciding to ignore them for now, he walked the last hundred meters to stand before the river.
He had considered cremation, but it had the same problems as with burial – it took resources he did not have. He wasn’t sure if wood fire could burn bone to ash, even if he could collect enough of it to cremate the 32 bodies left on the ship.
Pryce opened his eyes to look at the river; at least it was beautiful. The river was about 50 meters across and flowed quite fast, which would be good for carrying the bodies far out into the ocean.
It had only taken him 6 minutes to arrive at the river while walking slowly, so if he moved half as fast with two bodies, that would be 12 minutes there, 6 minutes back, 18 minutes per body. 32 bodies meant 16 trips lasting 18 minutes each, which was a little under 5 hours of work. Doable.
He'd like to bury them one after the other, but that wasn't possible without leaving the bodies at the river exposed to scavengers. The exercise reminded him of that chicken-fox-grain puzzle, Pryce thought, except it was a lot more macabre with all the bodies being ‘chickens’ and the predators being ‘foxes’.
A few moments later, he came up with a solution...
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
----------------------------------------
Pryce laid two bodies shrouded in cloth on a larger piece of spare sailcloth, and pulled. The cloth slid across the fine sand without too much resistance.
Good, this part of the plan was working.
He'd wrapped the bodies in bundles of cloth, and pulled them together one pair at a time. He dragged the bodies along the beach, straining the muscles that were only partly recovered.
When he trudged about 25 meters he walked back to the rest of the bodies, dragging the second pair until it laid alongside the first.
He repeated this process until all the bodies moved 25 meters, then checked the chronometer. 20 minutes. He would slow down as he exhausted himself, so if he assumed it would take an average of 30 minutes, that meant a better estimate was 6 hours, giving him about 2 hours of leeway before sundown.
It might seem overly analytical to estimate the time it would take for him to complete this task, but he needed to get all of this done with enough time to say his farewells. He wouldn’t chance having to leave the bodies of his crew out at night for the raptors to feast on.
Pryce knew he should be on guard for any raptors who decided now would be a good time to make a meal out of him, but it was very difficult to maintain that attitude while dragging bodies across the beach for several hours.
He had evidently slowed down even more than he had expected, but he was able to finish in 7 hours, with no hide nor hair of any predators.
He knelt down and began unwrapping each crewman from their shrouds and folded the cloth into a neat pile. The corpses were in a visible state of decay, but were all still easily recognizable.
Then he pulled a book out from his coat pocket, cleared his throat, and began reading the funeral rites. It was awkward and stilted, his voice breaking every few sentences. He didn’t believe in any particular religion himself, but he did it for those who would have wanted it read.
Pryce was a genial man, and had been on good terms with nearly all of the crew. As one of the two ship’s physicians he had private conversations with all of them at one point or another.
“I should start by saying I am sorry,” he began, “that I did not get to know some of you as much as I should have. Nonetheless I…I will do my best.”
He started with Dr. Siebert, who was at the closest end of the row. Pryce closed his eyes for a few moments to organize his thoughts, then opened his mouth to begin.
But then he looked at Siebert’s face, and the sound died in his throat.
Looking away from her blue face, he took a moment to blink away the wetness in his eyes, staring at the sand –
He stared at the sand.
The beach naturally had bits and pieces of debris scattered over its surface; branches, leaves, seashells all laid about haphazardly…but there was one large branch laying on the sand that just…ended. As if there was something sand-colored in front of it. The late evening sun cast long shadows, and the foliage was thick enough that whatever was between him and the branch sat within the shade.
Pryce slowly knelt down and picked up the rifle, faintly relieved that he had kept it so close. He took aim at the center of the anomaly, and pulled the trigger.
An air-splitting crack, and the butt of the rifle kicked back into his shoulder as a deep throaty shriek assaulted his ears – something white was suddenly there, thrashing and screeching with an explosion of sand. His shoulder ached, but not badly enough to stop him from ejecting the spent casing and chambering in a new one. Most of the training centered around using 9 mm rounds, and he never quite got used to the kick 12 mm rounds produced.
Reloading complete, Pryce hastily raised the rifle at the creature just as it pulled itself up and fired– a crack, and this time the creature dropped with a muffled thump upon the sand.
Pryce stared at the corpse, not because the creature was a raptor, but because it was changing colors. Various pigments bloomed and faded across the creature’s skin as it twitched in its death throes. Soon the twitching stopped, and the skin faded to a ghostly white.
He stood for a few moments, breathing heavily as he waited for the creature to get back up.
It didn’t.
Pryce gradually began to relax, enough to admonish himself for his carelessness. He had been lucky, again, but he should have been more vigilant, he should have known to expect things no one had ever seen before.
There was no way for him to know if there were more raptors in the forest, the crack of gunfire should have scared them off, but he couldn’t take that chance. The sun was only getting lower, and then the raptors would be impossible to see in the dark.
Pryce glanced at his fallen comrades and grimaced.
“I’m sorry.”
----------------------------------------
> [JOURNAL ENTRY]
>
> Day 24: The Horizon is located approximately 300 meters north of a river, which I have named Eulogy.
>
> I am frustrated that my attempt of a funeral was interrupted. They all deserved so much better. It feels like everything I’ve done here has resulted in abysmal failure.
>
> It was only luck that led to me noticing the oddity that was the camouflaged raptor; it appeared as if it perfectly mimicked the color and pattern of sand on the beach. Yesterday I had assumed that it was excellent but merely ‘static’ camouflage, but now I know it is something I will term ‘active’ camouflage. I only noticed it because the camouflaged raptor was blocking a branch and some shadows behind it from view, resulting in a noticeable inconsistency.
>
> The scientist in me is amazed at this incredible adaptation, while the more practical side of me is dreading how to deal with these creatures. When I witnessed its death throes, I saw not only that the skin can change into any number of colors, but even the loose skin wrinkled and smoothed out in random bursts. I’m certain that this creature can even mimic texture to some degree, or at least the appearance of it.
>
> At the very least, I now have a specimen to study in detail.
>
> In the end, I was forced to bury my crewmates in Eulogy River without ceremony, as there was not much sunlight left, and the sounds of gunfire may have attracted more predators. I have come to realize how powerless I am by my lonesome. First, I could not offer them a proper burial on land, and now I could not even give them a burial at sea. I hope they will forgive me.
>
> This expedition was meant to be carried out by many people of many skills, and…I am only one man.
>
> I cannot take their place, but I will try my best until I die.
>
> It is what they would have did.