Joliet’s trip home lasted just a week. When she returned it was with a U-Haul truck. She’d tried to claim the move was to better study and keep an eye on Lilly, but the charade only lasted three months. She and Hawkins had been sharing a room since. Lilly had taken to calling them Mom and Dad.
It was a strange family. Perhaps the strangest ever. But it had worked so far. He and Joliet did their best to educate her, but found she didn’t need much help. She took to reading quickly and devoured books like she did meat. She was a hunter, of that there was little doubt, but her instincts were tempered by a sharp intelligence and a kind heart. Bray liked to say she had the look of a cat but the temperament of a dog.
They’d had no trouble hiding her from the outside world. The reservation’s mostly unpopulated 1,058 square miles gave her lots of space to roam and she could hear, see, and smell someone coming from a mile away. She knew enough to stay out of sight and understood what might happen if she were discovered. The biggest challenge had been her growth. Six months into her stay, she’d grown. Fast. Her body, mind, and emotional development surged forward and what had been a five-year-old girl soon became a young teen. She had yet to show any real signs of puberty, but it remained one of Hawkins’s greatest fears. If she was ever going to do something irrational, it would be then. But so far, she’d remained calm, trustworthy, and clear-headed.
All things considered, they’d managed to build a good life in the wake of surviving the island. Most importantly, they were safe.
C’mon, Hawkins thought, looking through the binoculars. Any second now.
Lilly had become a skilled hunter as Hawkins and GoodTracks taught her everything they knew, minus the “be the most aggressive predator” theory—she needed no help there. But she’d learned discipline, respect for life, and skills that would serve her well if things ever became … complicated. So when an arrow didn’t fly from some unseen hiding spot, Hawkins became worried.
Joliet crouched next to him. “Where is she?”
Hawkins stood. The deer immediately saw him. They stared at him for a moment until one of them huffed. Then all three darted away, bounding through the high grass until they disappeared into the forest.
With their cover blown, there was no reason for Hawkins to stay silent any longer. Fearing Lilly might have left, he filled his lungs to shout for her. He never got the chance.
“Daddy!” Lilly’s voice was distant. Panicked.
Had she been discovered?
Hawkins jumped over the edge and ran down the grassy slope. Joliet and GoodTracks followed close behind. “Lilly! Where are you!”
“Here!” she shouted.
Hawkins ran as fast as he could, which wasn’t quite as fast as he could run a year ago. Several of his wounds still ached when he exerted himself, but concern for Lilly pushed him past the pain. He saw her crouched in a stand of tall grass.
She wore no clothes. She rarely did. They were not only uncomfortable for her, but her pelt of shiny, black fur hid anything people would consider indecent. She didn’t look up at his approach, but stared at the ground beneath her. He saw blood on her hands and arms.
Had she killed something?
Was she wounded?
She looked at him, panic filling her eyes. “Daddy, I don’t understand.”
“What is it,” he asked, his eyes searching her body for a wound. Her legs were bloody, too, but he saw no injuries.
“Look,” she said, and stepped back.
Hawkins stared at the ground beneath her.
Joliet arrived and gasped, a hand going to her mouth.
GoodTracks stopped short. He always made an effort to let Hawkins and Joliet handle Lilly’s problems the way parents might before offering his grandfatherly opinion. When no one said anything, he asked, “What is it?”
Hawkins turned around slowly. He didn’t know what to think. Or what to do. But the answer to GoodTracks’s question was a simple one. “Eggs,” he said. “Three of them.” He looked back at the clutch of brown spotted eggs, each the size of an oblong baseball. “They’re Lilly’s.”
EPILOGUE
“Over there!” Jason Bachman shouted, pointing at the distant chunk of debris. As a deckhand aboard the Darwin, his job usually entailed grunt work like cleaning the deck or fixing clogged toilets. So when the captain had offered him a chance to stand lookout for the day, he took to the role with gusto.
The Darwin had taken up the job left vacant by the missing Magellan and her crew—to study the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. They’d come with a full crew of fifty people and had already uncovered a great deal of evidence that should change the tide of public opinion and hopefully get some legislation pushed through.
“On top of the white tarp!” he shouted to the Zodiac crew who gunned the engine and aimed for the tarp floating atop a layer of debris. If not for the stark white tarp, he might not have recognized the shape, but it stood out as a clear silhouette in the noonday sun.
The Zodiac engine’s whine quieted as it approached the tarp. He watched through his binoculars as the three-man crew brought the basketball-size object aboard. The engine whined again as the small boat shot back to the Darwin.
Bachman’s lanky legs carried him quickly to the port rail of the lower deck, where the Zodiac crew would hand their find to waiting scientists. He rarely got to witness discoveries as they were made. Usually only heard about them over dinner. But since he’d found the object, he’d be the one to bring it aboard.
He descended the stairs three at a time, startling the waiting scientists. Dr. Dan Mueller, a senior oceanographer on his third voyage with the Darwin, jumped at Bachman’s sudden arrival. “Geez, Jason, excited much?”
“Sorry,” Jason said. “This is a little more exciting than what I’m used to.”
Mueller frowned. “If you’d been hauling trash out of the ocean all day for the past month, you might have a different opinion. Oceanography isn’t as romantic a profession as some people think.”
“I find your enthusiasm refreshing.” Dr. Kim Hale stepped around Mueller and gave Bachman a pat on the shoulder. She motioned to Mueller with her head. “If he had just a fraction of your good nature, my job would be a lot more fun, too.”
Bachman blushed. Hale was pretty, not too much older than him, and had a smile that twisted knots in his stomach. He stammered for a reply. The whine of the Zodiac engine saved him from embarrassing himself.
The Zodiac swung around and pulled up alongside the ship. The prize had been wrapped in a towel and was offered up to Bachman. He took it with a smile and said “thanks.” As the Zodiac buzzed away in search of more treasures, Bachman knelt down, placed the object on the deck, and opened the towel.
“Huh,” Mueller said. “I don’t recognize the species.
“What do you mean?” Bachman asked. “It’s a turtle shell.”
Mueller sighed.
“Look at the peaks,” Hale said. “And the coloration. It looks more like a species of freshwater snapping turtle.”
“Snapping turtle?” Bachman said, screwing up his face. “What’s a snapping turtle doing way the heck out—”
Eight black legs sprung from the sides of the shell.
Before Bachman could shout in surprise, the thing was airborne. He felt something wrap around his waist and squeeze, then three sharp stings in his stomach. His head swirled with confusion and sudden exhaustion. As he fell to the deck, he saw the thing jump on Mueller. A tail wrapped around the man. And then a stinger, like a scorpion’s tail, emerged and jabbed the man three times. As the creature released Mueller and pursued Hale, who’d ran for the stairs, he screamed in agony. He didn’t know how. Or why. But he could feel it. Something was inside him.
Eating.
Growing.
He died ten seconds after they tore out of his stomach, which was long enough to hear Hale, and several others, screaming on the decks above.
ALSO BY JEREMY ROBINSON
The Jack Sigler Thrillers
Pulse
Instinct
Threshold
Ragnarok
The Chess Team Novellas
Callsign: Queen—Book 1
Callsign: Rook—Book 1
Callsign: Bishop—Book 1
Callsign: Knight—Book 1
Callsign: Deep Blue—Book 1
Callsign: King—Book 1
Callsign: King—Book 2—Underworld
Callsign: King—Book 3—Blackout
The Antarktos Saga
The Last Hunter: Descent
The Last Hunter: Pursuit
The Last Hunter: Ascent
The Last Hunter: Lament
The Last Hunter: Onslaught
Stand-Alone Novels
Kronos
Antarktos Rising
Beneath
Raising the Past
The Didymus Contingency
SecondWorld
Project Nemesis
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JEREMY ROBINSON is the author of bestselling thrillers, including SecondWorld, The Last Hunter: Descent, Project Nemesis, and the Jack Sigler thrillers, including Threshold and Ragnarok. His novels have been translated into ten languages. Born in the coastal town of Beverly, Massachusetts, Robinson grew up on a steady diet of seacoast exploration and science fiction, and began his creative career as a comic book illustrator and screenwriter. He now lives in New Hampshire with his wife and three children.
Visit Robinson online at jeremyrobinsononline.com and sign up for the newsletter for free content, contests, and updates on upcoming projects. Connect with him on Facebook at facebook.com/sciencethriller, and follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/jrobinsonauthor.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
ISLAND 731. Copyright © 2013 by Jeremy Robinson. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover photographs: symbol by Young Jin Lim;
island by © Aispix by Image Source/Shutterstock.com;
ocean by © Nickolay Khoroshkov/Shutterstock.com;
sky by © Tyler Olson/Shutterstock.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Robinson, Jeremy, 1974-
Island 731 / Jeremy Robinson. — First Edition.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-312-61787-5 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-02259-2 (e-book)
1. Research vessels—Fiction. 2. Scientists—Fiction. 3. Suspense fiction. I. Title.
PS3618.O3268l85 2013
813'.6—dc23
2012042087
e-ISBN 9781250022592
First Edition: March 2013
Table of Contents
Cover
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Epilogue
Also by Jeremy Robinson
About the Author
Copyright