Return To Primordial Island by Rick Poldark (read my book .txt) 📕

within the boa’s mouth. “She’s here,” he gasped.

‘Yes. She is. You want to see her again. You want to be with her.’

Peter shook his head as he slid further into the jaws and throat of the Titanoboa. “No! Why did she come back?”

‘She came for you.’

“No. You’re playing tricks on me. I don’t believe it.”

The boa’s lips now touched his chin, and the force of the rhythmic muscle contractions forced his head back.

‘You are too late. Her death is your responsibility.’

Peter was swallowed whole, and the world went dark. He struggled to breathe as the boa’s muscles tightened around him, working him into its digestive tract. What little air he could inhale was tinged with the odor of stomach acid, and his lungs burned with each limited draw of breath. He heard muffled shouts outside, and he was rolled around. He heard the pop of gunfire, and the peristaltic contractions around him slowed and then ceased. Sharp objects pierced the sides of the snake, poking Peter’s body, and the walls of the snake were pulled apart as he was rolled over and over, gasping for air.

Just as he was about to pass out, fresh air and sunlight hit his face, and he felt hands grabbing at him, pulling the top half of his body up and out of the massive serpent. When Peter opened his eyes, he saw Tracey looking down at him. “Screw you. Leave me alone.”

Tracey shook her head, looking confused. “Peter, what are you doing inside that huge ass snake?”

Now he was perplexed. “Tracey? Is that really you?” He furrowed his brow. “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

A rather stern-looking man stood next to her. “Hello, Dr. Albanese. I’m Trevor Nielsen from Poseidon Tech. We’re here to rescue you.”

Peter turned his head towards the river. “But…but…did you see her?”

Tracey turned to try to see what he was looking at. “Who?”

“You…I mean, not really you. Not the real you. The fake you.”

“He’s delirious,” said a man dressed in camos, toting an assault rifle.

“I don’t even know how he’s alive,” said Nielsen.

Peter eyed the man with the large gun.

“That’s Collins,” explained Tracey, crouching by his side. “Head of security.”

Peter met eyes with Tracey. He was overwhelmed to see her. “You came back.”

“Of course I did,” she said, her voice soft and warm. It was a complete contrast with the voice of the thing in the water.

Peter frowned. “You shouldn’t have come.”

The other men in camos pulled the snake apart from either side, cutting through muscle, freeing his legs. He made to push himself up, but he felt strong hands reach under his arms, hoisting him up. Peter staggered as he regained his balance. He looked at each of the men holding him up. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

Tracey threw her arms around him. He once again felt squeezed, but he welcomed it this time. He closed his eyes and drank it in. He heard shouts, weapons being drawn, and then Tracey’s voice, “No! Wait!”

Peter opened his eyes. Collins and his men had their weapons drawn on him.

“What’s wrong with him?” Collins pointed the barrel of his rifle at Peter’s glowing chest. Peter’s wounds from the snake and errant knife tips healed over, leaving his shirt tattered and stained but his flesh intact.

Nielsen smiled and stepped between Peter and Collins’ men. “It was in the briefing. He gained some kind of power being on this island.”

“Is he dangerous?” asked Collins.

“No, he’s not dangerous,” snapped Tracey, standing next to Peter.

Peter put his hands up, slowly. “I assure you, I’m no threat to you or your men.”

Nielsen looked him up and down. “You look pretty damned good for a man we pulled out of a giant snake.”

Peter suddenly felt self-conscious. He was filthy, his clothes were ragged, and he sported a bushy beard. He looked like a castaway, which really wasn’t that far from the truth.

“Titanoboa,” corrected Tracey.

“I knew it,” chortled Peter.

“Stand down,” said Collins to his men. They all lowered their rifles.

“Where are the others?” asked Nielsen.

Peter’s expression changed from amused to grave. “I told them to evacuate the village.”

“Evacuate?” said Nielsen.

“What happened?” asked Tracey.

“It’s a long story,” said Peter.

Collins looked uneasy. “Mr. Nielsen, I hate to cut this reunion short, but we need to get back into our vehicles. We’re sitting ducks out here.”

Nielsen nodded. “He’s right. You two can catch up in the truck, and we can hear about the village.”

Peter looked around. “Truck? What truck?”

Tracey led him over to the convoy, arm-in-arm, supporting him. “That convoy.”

Peter took in the Humvees with mounted weaponry and the armored vehicle. The truck was black with a back window and four windows on each side. The front two side windows were larger than the rear window set in the back door. The tires were huge, set in angular wheel wells, lending it an aggressive appearance. “Whoa. You guys came better prepared this time.”

A Huey buzzed overhead, and Collins’ radio crackled. ‘Eagle to Chief, we’ve spotted three T. rexes heading your way, three clicks south.’

“Chief to Eagle, copy that,” said Collins. “Move to intercept. Chief out.” He turned to address the group. “Let’s move!”

Everyone dashed to their vehicles. Peter hobbled his way to the armored truck, and Nielsen helped him inside. Nielsen then waved Tracey in and hopped in himself.

“Three T. rexes?” said Peter, his eyes wide. “They’re going to tear through this convoy.”

Nielsen shook his head. “We’ve got helicopter support, not to mention belt-fed grenade launchers on those Humvees.”

A young technician inside the truck beamed when she saw Peter, as if she’d recognized him. However, Peter didn’t recognize her.

Marcy leaned in to Tracey. “Is that him?”

Tracey’s face flushed, and she nodded.

Peter didn’t understand what the exchange was all about, but