<< Go Back

Extinction Island

By Janice Boekhoff

Order Now!

INTRODUCTION

In a world where genetic manipulation is the newest superpower, dinosaurs are brought back from extinction and released on the American population. After several gruesome fatalities, the military hunts down each specimen and transfers it to a sanctuary—the newly formed island of Costa Rica. Contained by an expanded Panama Canal to the south and the freshly dug Nicaraguan canal to the north, the dinosaurs flourish in the tropical climate.

However, the cost required to purchase the land, evacuate the residents to nearby countries, and construct the sanctuary leaves the United States saddled with enormous debt. This cost, coupled with an overworked prison system—a result of a decline in the moral fabric of the country—leads to the signing of a new death penalty bill, dubbed by the media as Jurassic Judgment.

After four months of accelerated appeals, death row inmates are given a choice: immediate execution ... or exile to Extinction Island.

PROLOGUE

A low moan escaped from Oakley Laveau's lips. Her synapses worked in slow motion. She scraped her dry tongue along the roof of her mouth. Her limbs dragged on her like dead weight. The effects of the alcohol penetrated every crevice of her brain.

With a massive mental push, she forced her eyes open as if they were on rusty hinges. A dark curtain draped in front of her eyes—her own sable-colored hair. Stupid. She brushed a hand over her face to clear her vision.

She lay face-down on a bed with a vaguely familiar yellow zig-zag comforter. Yellow was her best friend's favorite color. With a jolt, Oakley pushed up to her knees. Pale yellow walls, white ornate dresser, and a painting of a gigantic sunflower over the bed. How did she get into Monica's apartment?

She gave herself a quick once over. Jeans and an LSU T-shirt. The same clothes she'd worn yesterday. So, why couldn't she remember the rest of last night?

She flipped over to lay on her back. At the bar, Monica had apologized for her part in the betrayal. Had Oakley forgiven her? No, she hadn't. Instead, she finished the vodka and club soda and grabbed something from her drink. What was it? She dug through her mind for the tidbit. A gold coin had been in the bottom of her glass, given to her by a man. She plucked it out and then ... nothing.

Nausea swelled in her stomach. She'd never experienced a black out before. It couldn't have come from just one drink. Had she stayed for more? Maybe Monica had taken her home because she couldn't drive?

Her cottony mouth begged for water. She scooted off the bed and walked in bare feet to the main living area of the small apartment. "Monica?"

No answer. A small measure of relief. She needed time to sort out her feelings before facing Monica again. As her brain finally kicked into gear, she remembered Monica's name listed on the schedule for today. She must have already gone into work.

Oakley made her way to the kitchen and sucked down a large glass of water. She put the glass on the counter next to a shiny set of keys—Monica's keys. Had she left them so Oakley could lock up? But the car key fob was still attached. Did Monica have another set of keys? If not, how would she have gotten to work?

Maybe in my car. Oakley patted her jeans pocket. Nope, she had her keys.

Unless Monica was still here.

"Monica?"

On her way back to the bedroom, she tripped over a black sandal. Her sandal. At least she knew where one of them had ended up.

Aside from the small rumpling of the comforter where Oakley had lain, the rest of the sheets were undisturbed. Perhaps Monica was in the bathroom. She tapped on the closed door. "Monica, are you here?"

When she received no response, she put her ear to the wood. No sound of movement or running water.

She tried the knob and pushed the door open. "Monica?" This time it was almost a whisper.

As the door swung open, she saw a foot resting on the edge of the tub. She quickly turned her back to give Monica privacy. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were taking a bath."

The next minute dragged on, punctuated every few seconds by her awareness of what she didn't hear. No exclamation of surprise. No splash as Monica tried to cover up. No harsh words about the door being closed. Nothing except the tiny drip, drip of water.

She cleared her throat. "Are you okay?"

No answer.

She pressed a hand to her throat as she slowly turned back around. Her gaze found the foot, then traveled farther along the tub. Monica's legs and body were submerged in about a foot of water. She stepped closer to peer fully into the tub. Monica's submerged face rested unmoving beneath the water, her mouth frozen in a small exclamation of surprise. She searched for air bubbles, movement, anything to indicate life, but Monica lay absolutely still, her half-shuttered eyes staring at the ceiling.

Sorrow, mingled with confusion, created a sloshing mixture of burning acid in her stomach. If only she could remember something after the conversation at the bar. What happened last night? How had Monica died?



CHAPTER ONE


Four months later ...

The stinging, salty wind blew Oakley's hair into her eyes, the individual dark strands sticking to the moisture on her cheeks. Every second that ticked away brought her closer to the island of her nightmares.

She swept her hair up with one hand and focused on her dad, memorizing his features—dull brown hair with one gray shock on the right side, placid green eyes, and wrinkles like twin commas creased around his mouth—but his image kept blurring with her tears.

Behind her, the horn on the prison ship let out a protracted bleat. She didn't have much time left. As a felon, convicted and sentenced to death for murder, her future had died with her three fast appeals.

Dad reached out to cup her cheek, and she let her hair go wild again. Her tears rolled over his thumb. She turned her eyes down to where the droplets splattered on the white planks of the dock, creating a wet stain.

"You have to stay strong." Dad's deep voice broke on the last word.

She searched his face, turned as hard as stone. He said what she'd expected him to say. The only advice he'd ever given her. As a kid, she'd used the mantra to make him proud in school and while playing soccer. Then, when she was a teenager, staying strong had meant winning at all cost, and she'd used it to battle against the few rules he'd given her.

Now, when her life and career should just be beginning, the words fell flat with meaninglessness. No matter how strong she became physically or emotionally, it wouldn't be enough for where she was going.

"Did something happen to your eye?" Dad lifted her chin. "It's bloodshot."

"It hurts." Without thinking, she rubbed her left arm that also ached at the spot where they had inserted her tracker. Every prisoner had to get one. "The nurse said my eye was an unusual reaction to the anesthesia."

At the time, Oakley hadn't pressed the issue with the nurse because a frantic guard had burst into the recovery room in a panic. Apparently, someone at the hospital had lost track of Oakley during the implantation procedure. Of course, they mustn't let a dangerous criminal get a chance to escape. What could she have done while cuffed to a hospital bed anyway?

At the insistent sound of the horn, Dad grabbed her and wrapped her in a desperate hug. She stood frozen like that. Her bandaged arm hurt under the pressure, but she wouldn't ask him to stop. She might never feel his arms around her again.

From behind, Officer Lewis cleared his throat. "We need to leave to avoid an offshore storm."

Dad pulled back and gripped her hands. His fingers skimmed across the stubs of her pinkie and ring fingers on her left hand, taken by a gator just before Monica's murder. First her fingers, then her best friend, and now her freedom. What else would she lose? She had only her life left to give.

Reaching up toward her ear, Dad barely touched one of the silver fleur-de-lis earrings that had been her mother's. The guards let her keep a single personal item, and she chose the one with the least amount of memories attached. Anything else would have been too painful.

"Oak, you're a fighter like your mother. Don't give up. I'll be working to get you back."

Typical. He'd waited to bring up her mother until Oakley had to go, so he didn't have to address any of her unanswered questions. But even if he released some of those mysteries from the past, it wouldn't do her any good now. Just staying alive would be her most pressing battle.

Pushing her small shoulders up, she turned to follow Officer Lewis to the boat. The gray transport ship wasn't much bigger than the boats from the Lazy Lizard—the swamp tour where she used to work—but it seemed more menacing.

Don't look back. She held her posture square. If she could just make it up the gangway.

Halfway up, she couldn't stand it. She turned her head until she saw him. Dad stood with a hand over his mouth and an arm clutching his stomach. A sob wrenched out of her at the anguish on his face.

Officer Lewis halted to give her a minute. "Best get it all out now. No room for emotion where you're going."

With the back of her hand, she wiped away the remnants of her tears. Time to be strong. Despite her missing memories and regardless of what the jury said, Oakley wouldn't believe she'd killed her best friend. Her only hope lay in Dad finding evidence to free her. With a deep breath, she stepped through the metal door in the hull, feeling surprisingly hollow. Despair had drilled a cavern into her heart and the hole was growing by the minute.

###

The next two days at sea shredded Oakley's nerves. Her stomach twisted and turned with the waves that shoved the prison transport ship around like a toy bobbing in a bathtub, but her anxiety wasn't solely because of the sea. The needles stabbing at her gut had more to do with the other passengers aboard.

Four in total—two police officers with long rifles strapped to their chests, the ship's captain locked securely in the bow, and Daric Perkins, the recently convicted serial killer from California. Daric's fierce gaze followed her everywhere on deck.

"I don't belong here," she said to Officer Lewis, hoping he would agree.

He raised his thin and strangely manicured eyebrows in a disinterested gesture. Probably every convict had given him the same story, and that was all she was now. A convict sentenced to live on an island where she would be hunted by reptiles much more lethal than the alligators she had come to love.

She turned to her right and locked eyes with Daric. His ferocious stare marred his innocent blond, blue-eyed surfer appearance. She hadn't strayed more than two steps from an officer since yesterday, when Daric attacked her in the lower level bathroom. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his black tennis shoes, splayed at a cocky angle, just before he climbed on top of her. She fought him off with a dirty toilet wand to the face, then she ran like crazy. For a man like him with a body count of ten, capital punishment made sense. He'd slaughtered women as prey. Now he would be the prey.

But for her? She couldn't even remember her crime, only the strange man who'd been at the bar before it happened. During the trial, the prosecutor said she made Jim Durham up—an imaginary scapegoat to avoid the impact of what she'd done—but he was wrong. If only she could have found Jim afterward.

Since she'd boarded the boat, all hope of escaping her fate drowned in the open ocean surrounding them. There were so many things she'd miss. Her dad, of course, was the one constant in her life. Her ten-year-old half brother, Eric, kept her roaring with laughter at his antics, but he hadn't been allowed to come to the boat to say goodbye. Felice, Oakley's stepmother, had once again protected him from what she referred to as Oakley's bad example. Saturday afternoon soccer games with her friends in the cool Louisiana winters were over. Her friends would move on with their lives and forget about her.

Even her career as a reptile expert was finished. Ogden "Raptor" Greene—her boss at the Lazy Lizard—might miss her unusual confidence with the gators, but he'd find someone to replace her.

She let out a shaky sigh. The reptiles on Extinction Island would welcome her—as a source of food. Would they be anything like the marshmallow-eating alligators she'd studied and cared for the last two years?

Officer Lewis bellowed from the head of the stairs, his commanding voice rising above the wind. "Both inmates, report below for a briefing on the island."

Daric gestured for her to go ahead. She didn't like turning her back to him, so she quickly navigated the rubber-lined stairs and entered the first door available. As she stepped over the threshold, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Raptor stood with his hands raised to the low ceiling, adjusting some projection equipment.

She ran to him and stretched up to throw her arms around his thick neck. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

His muscular arms encircled her tightly. The same dreadful mix of comfort and sadness enveloped her. After a moment, he patted her gently on the back and pulled away. He must have been on board all along, but he hadn't come to see her. His dark gaze assessed her, sweeping across her reddened eye and over her two missing fingers.

She held them up, trying not to cringe at the memory of the gaping jaws of the fifteen-foot-long alligator they called Blackie. The gator died within seconds of taking her fingers, then sank into the swamp. She wanted to ask Raptor if he'd ever found its body, but she couldn't seem to force the question out. "They've healed fine."

He gave a pinched smile. "It's good to see you. I just wish it wasn't like this."

"You've been on board?"

He pressed his lips together before answering. "I'm not allowed contact with the inmates except for the briefing."

Obviously, he'd come here in his official capacity as the reptile expert for Extinction Island. His professional demeanor reminded her of the day he'd promoted her to assistant manager of the Lazy Lizard—a week before Monica's death. A bittersweet pang of loss squeezed her heart. Monica had perished, then when Oakley was accused of her murder, Raptor lost both of his full-time employees.

Officer Lewis took up a post near the door and tossed her a frustrated glance. "Sit down," he barked.

"Yes, Sir." She avoided his gaze as she took a seat in one of the few chairs in the room.

Daric sat next to her, his arm brushing hers as he lowered his body to the seat. Officer Lewis once told her that Daric had killed four girlfriends and six women who were unknown to him. He'd used a brace on his leg to make them think he was harmless. Sort of like a blond Ted Bundy. She hadn't seen the press coverage since she'd been occupied with her own trial at the time, but she hadn't needed to. From the moment they met, his surfer-boy good looks hadn't fooled her. She knew a predator when she saw one.

She scooted her chair away from him, the wooden legs screeching against the floor. He raised both eyebrows and smirked.

"Let's get started," Raptor said. "The government allows me twenty minutes to brief you. The U.S. Death Penalty Detention Center in Costa Rica is a dangerous place because of two factors—the convicts and the dinosaurs. The good news is, it's a big island and has only about a thousand surviving convicted inmates."

A thousand? The number made her stomach jump through her throat.

"How many people have died so far?" Daric blurted out.

"In the five years since inmates have been transported to the island, we've seen a fifty percent casualty rate within forty-eight hours." Raptor turned sad eyes toward her. "And of those who survive, the statistics show another fifty percent casualty rate within two years."

Daric shifted in her direction, whispering loudly. "Hear that, Snow? If one of us has to die, it's probably going to be you."

She crossed her legs, making sure to kick him in the process. He grunted, but winked at her. No way would she ask him why he'd decided to call her Snow. Better to keep the communication with him to a minimum.

But then, Raptor asked for her. "Snow?"

Daric tipped his smile to one side. "You don't think she looks like Snow White? She's even got those eyes like blue ice." He cocked his head in her direction. "I get shivers just looking at her."

If only she gave him shivers of fear rather than lust. She scooted her chair farther from him.

Raptor folded his thick arms and fixed a glare on Daric. "The dinosaurs will be your most dangerous and most numerous adversaries." He switched his focus to Oakley. "To beat them, you have to use the one thing they don't have, your creative brain."

Oakley raised her hand. "Aren't some of them smart?"

"Yes. Small Theropods, especially the raptors, can be extremely smart, and we're just starting to understand how they communicate." He took a deep breath. "As you've probably heard from the media, some of these dinosaurs were genetically manipulated when they were brought back. Several species will have abilities you wouldn't expect."

"Like what?" She tried unsuccessfully to keep the tremor out of her voice. She hadn't realized genetically modified meant more dangerous.

Raptor stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "Enhanced stealth properties like camouflage, manipulation of electrical fields, the ability to poison through skin contact and in aerosol form, and of course, superior vision, especially at night. Don't assume the dinosaurs can't see or sense you. Keeping still might work for a few species. As a whole, it's a terrible strategy. And so is running. It only triggers their prey drive. Trust me, they will out-predator you any day."

Daric threw his hands up. "What are we supposed to do then?"

Raptor gave him a condescending look. "Use your brain, genius. Outthink the animals. You have to assess each threat and respond to it appropriately." He spared her a glance. "In that respect, my money is on Oakley."

"Why?" Daric asked.

"She's a trained herpetologist. I'll let one of the officers define that for you later."

Daric scoffed. He wasn't as stupid as Raptor assumed. The glint in his eyes said he knew what her degree could mean in a place like Extinction Island.

"If all else fails, try climbing a tree."

What? She hadn't climbed a tree since she was ten-years-old.

"Some dinosaurs can climb decently with their back legs, but they have trouble holding on with their front." Raptor switched on the projection equipment, displaying a slide of the island. A dozen yellow highlighted areas were scattered on the map. "Returning to the humans, defined groups exist with some people mixing in between. Think of them like the cliques from your junior high years, except these guys are bigger, stronger, and armed."

"So they're like gangs?" she asked.

"Not really. Gangs are better organized with a code and a purpose, usually to make money or control territory. Most of these groups don't inspire loyalty and their only goal is to survive. However, there is one exception. The Cazador Gang, named because cazador means hunter in Spanish, behaves like a pack of wolves. They are loyal to the current alpha male who leads them. He gets the best of their food stores, the best sleeping arrangements"—his eyes found Oakley again, pity and fear etched on his tanned face—"which includes first pick of any available females."

Her mouth went dry as his words set in. On the island, her body would be a commodity, a resource, and heaven forbid, a bargaining chip.

From the back of the room, Officer Lewis spoke up. "We're almost there. Inmates, head upstairs. The terrain is rough, therefore each of you will be issued hiking boots when we dock."

She bristled. How kind of the government to make sure her feet were protected, right before they dropped her off to die.

She stood and gave a parting look to Raptor. His stocky physique and close-cropped brown hair were the same as always, but his dark eyes revealed the despair of losing a loved one. Just ten years older than she, he had always treated her as a little sister, and she loved him like an older brother. He bent down to give her a hug. "I'll check on you in a few days when I can get back to the island."

She barely nodded, staring after him as he left the room. He turned right to head deeper into the ship. A moment later, she turned left to climb the stairs, flanked by Officer Lewis. Her head throbbed, her heart ached, and her throat burned from fighting off unshed tears. In a few moments, she'd be immersed in a jungle that concealed more dangers than she could count. Forget a few days. Would she survive the first few hours after they docked?

As she stepped onto the deck, the ship tilted. She grabbed a metal support pole to keep from falling.

Officer Lewis came around her and shuffled to the side of the ship, barking instructions to his partner. "Get ready to jump to the dock and tie us off."

The other officer scowled at having to do the manual labor, but he climbed on the rail to wait, hanging on by another support pole.

Hot breath filled Oakley's ear. "Soon you won't have anyone to help you." Daric grabbed her elbow and squeezed until she bit back a cry. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, she whimpered just loud enough for Officer Lewis to hear.

He put a hand on his rifle. "Back off, inmate."

"What are you going to do, give me the death penalty twice?" Daric asked.

Officer Lewis glared daggers at him. "I can make sure the one you already have is carried out sooner rather than later."

Daric backed away with a smirk playing on his lips.

A loud thump sounded as the other officer jumped from the ship to the landing area. Then, the swaying deck began to stabilize.

"Oakley." Officer Lewis gestured for her to meet him at the railing. When she joined him, he lowered his head and his voice so only she could hear as he swept a hand toward the jungle. "Out there it's kill or be killed. Once we release you, take your supplies and run." He gave a quick glance to her small physique. "You seem like you'd be fast. Find someplace to hide. Don't let Perkins catch you."

He moved away to check on his partner. She continued to stare out at the mass of green foliage waving in the wind. Run and hide where? Full of convicts and dinosaurs, this terrible place would be her home. A thousand men like Daric and an even greater number of walking fossils armed with serrated teeth made this the most dangerous place on the planet.

At the top of a nearby cliff, something stationary amid the blowing leaves caught her attention. A man stood in front of the trees with his body turned toward the boat. A convict? He wore clean khaki pants and a white shirt, not the outfit she'd expect for an inmate. She narrowed her eyes to focus on him. As his features crystallized, she stepped back in shock. The unruly dark hair. The slender, aquiline nose. She'd only seen those prominent features twice. First, on her tour boat the day she'd lost her fingers to the gator, and again on the worst night of her life—Monica's last night alive.

Her heart pounded against her ribs. Jim Durham. The man who'd been at the bar that night. Her last memory was of a gold coin he gave her. He'd teasingly dropped it into her drink, then he disappeared, along with her memories. Where had he been during her trial? Why was he here now? As her disbelieving eyes tracked him, he slowly turned and entered the trees. The waving green leaves swallowed him up.

She gripped the railing tighter. Officer Lewis was more right than he knew. She needed to run straight into the jungle. To discover what information Jim Durham had about Monica's murder. If she could survive long enough to find him, perhaps she could prove her innocence and end this ordeal.

An unexpected worm of doubt squirmed its way into her mind. With her amnesia, she'd had a hard time explaining away some of the evidence presented at her trial. Like why her sandal had been found under Monica's body. Or how Monica had been electrocuted alone in the tub with no appliances anywhere. Though she tried to push the doubt away, it lingered in the corners of her mind. What really happened that night?

As the ship slid along the dock, the nearby trees blocked some of the wind. Daric shuffled his feet on the fiberglass floor of the boat behind her. Was he anxious to get to her or nervous for the landing? She glanced over her shoulder. He held her gaze for a brief second before he slowly ran his tongue over his upper lip. She shuddered and turned away.

The uniform sway of the trees captured her gaze again, as if the island was waving her away. But leaving wasn't an option. A loud, growling roar rumbled from deep in the jungle. No matter how this all unfolded, she wouldn't get through it unscathed. Even if she fought off the evil behind her, she still had to confront the evil in front of her ... and possibly the evil inside her.

Order Now!

<< Go Back