Shane Schofield #04 - Hell Island by Matthew Reilly

Author:Matthew Reilly [Reilly, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Macmillan Publishers Australia
Published: 2011-10-18T02:08:23+00:00

The six-man Marine team reached a long ladder that connected the high catwalk to the floor of the hangar, slid down it one after the other, Schofield leading the way.

The main gorilla force was now flooding into the aft hangar bay like bats out of hell. Their numbers were incredible, they literally poured through the access door from the forward hangar, then clambered over the muddy fake battlefield, climbing up and over the trenches and barbed wire, guns firing, teeth bared.

It was, quite simply, the most fearsome assault force Schofield had ever seen.

Armed, enraged, and completely lacking the fear of death—any human force that saw these things bearing down on it would in all likelihood just go to water.

Schofield was almost at the exterior elevator, only fifty yards away, when something completely unexpected happened.

The elevator began to rise.

‘Oh no . . . no . . .’

The great platform lifted fast, taking the gangway with it. As the elevator rose up and out of sight, heading for the flight deck, the gangway leading to dry land dropped down into the water with an ungainly splash.

‘They—,’ Bigfoot gasped. ‘Son of a bitch . . .’

‘Next plan?’ Sanchez said.

‘Stay moving.’ Schofield scanned the area for another escape. ‘Always stay moving. While you’re moving, you’re still in the game. If you stop, you’re dead. Never stop.’

As he spoke, he saw two large transport trucks parked over by the wall. ‘Those trucks! Get in and make for the flight deck!’

The squad split up, racing for the two trucks. They were five-ton troop transports, with high canvas awnings covering their rear trays.

Schofield and Bigfoot dived into the cab of one truck; Mother, Astro, Hulk and Sanchez jumped into the other one.

As Schofield slid into the driver’s seat, he spun to check on the scientist, Pennebaker, to see if he was keeping up—

—only to see Zak Pennebaker skulking into a side door of the hangar thirty yards away, on his own, preferring, it seemed, to handle this disaster by himself. He disappeared through the door.

‘What the—?’ Schofield frowned. But he didn’t have time to ponder the issue. The apes had cleared the battlefield and were now advancing across the open deck like the army of darkness.

Schofield gunned the engine.

*

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