Having left her helicopter, Carla vanished into the jungle, heading towards the south west shore, in the hope of finding Max’s tracks. This was of course the general direction of the complex and the cavern where the natives lived. She heard the raised, aggressive voices of the crazed natives as they fought and argued amongst themselves. They were waiting in the cavern for their food.
As Carla looked into the cavern, she was horrified at the state the natives were in. They had been fighting and many of them were bleeding, but it was the look on their faces that scared her to the core. They had bulging, bloodshot eyes, faces screwed up with pain and fury, lashing out at anyone near enough to strike, lunging and biting, punching and pummeling. It made no difference whether it was man or woman; they behaved with equal viciousness.
Carla moved quietly away, continuing on with her mission to find Max.
She reached the shore and looked around in the sand. Two sets of foot prints and the indentations, where two bodies had rested, was conclusive proof Max and the bitch girl had reached land. There was no sign of a life raft so perhaps they had punctured it and buried it somewhere. They would not want it spotted, if they knew they were being pursued. She surmised this because they had gone to great lengths to create their new identity, only for it to be splashed across every television screen in the civilized world.
She climbed back up the cliff and looked for signs of damaged undergrowth. She saw a lot of crushed plants and bushes and came across pools of dried blood and signs of a fight. Carla followed the trail towards the cliff face path down to the base of the complex, but could not see anything worth climbing down for.
It suddenly occurred to her that she had not seen any of the rescue party or the other people pursuing Max. She edged back towards the center of the island and peered at the rescue helicopter, from the jungle. There was no one near it. She ran towards the spot where the boats had been moored and they were gone - way out to sea and heading back to Majuro Atoll. Her first thought was that they had captured Max.
She reflected that the rescue helicopter was still here, speculating that it might have broken down, or the criminals had killed the rescue crew. Perhaps the natives had killed the crew and driven the criminals away.
As she pondered what to do, she realized there were no sounds of people, animals or insects, just the gentle rushing sound of the breeze through trees and grass.
She was about to return to her helicopter, when she heard the faint sound of an engine. She knew that sound, but, no, it couldn’t be! It’s a drone.
The crew aboard the US1 had launched the drone and it was traversing the island in what is called a lawn mowing pattern. It was approaching the spot where Carla stood.
***
Meanwhile, on board the US1, the crew was trying desperately to reverse the huge submarine out of the shallows. It had become stranded on the seabed and to gain buoyancy, they were still pumping out the moon-pool.
Everyone was acutely aware that time was against them, because the timer had not been reset. They had to leave the island very soon or they would be obliterated by the blast.
***
Carla had correctly identified the sound. Yes, it was a drone. Who would have one out here? It could only be American or British secret service and they had to be looking for Max.
Knowing the typical capability of drones, because associate companies of The Organization manufactured them, she knew she must take cover. They would be looking for body heat and movement, so she dived under a rock ledge, hoping it would be warmer than her and mask her presence.
She lay very still and waited for it to pass by again, following its next path. She now had a clear idea of its search pattern and when she would have to find cover again.
It puzzled her that they were searching for Max. It had to be him they were looking for, but why had all the others left in their boats?
She made her way back to her helicopter, only to find the fuel drums still full on the ground, and no pilot. She realized she was probably alone and stranded on the island with the crazy natives. The only hope she had was rescue by the US1 or that eventually, someone would return to retrieve the rescue helicopter.
The drone made another pass so she curled up in a tight ball on the back seat close to the hot engine, her profile merged with the machinery and the danger passed.