“Lieutenant! Who has ordered you to fire on this man? Answer me, damn you!”
In the helicopter, Snow frowned and switched off the radio. He could not get into this conversation.
“Those are tracers, sir,” an officer said to Russeux. “Every third round or so is a red tracer. That’s military-grade ammo.”
Russeux had seen the tracers. He threw the handset back into the car and shouted a curse. He kicked the door of the vehicle. “Damnit! He’s just a kid. What the hell are they doing!”
Thomas fired the weapon again and again, hoping to drive Alan out from his cover behind the trees as Snow expertly maneuvered the helicopter around the grove to approach it from the other side. Alan darted to another tree and jumped behind it.
“This isn’t going to work,” Thomas shouted. “There is too much cover down there.” He looked over the forest and saw an opening about a hundred meters away. “Can you set me down over there?” He saw Snow trying to look over his shoulder. Thomas pointed frantically. “There!” he shouted. “Can you set me down there?”
Snow nodded. “I can, but I will have to land and shut down. We are running low on fuel and I can’t hover while you go on foot.”
“Sonofabitch, I can’t believe I am doing this!” Thomas shouted. “Set her down. I have to go on foot.”
Snow maneuvered the helicopter over the clearing, and then brought it gently down into the snow-covered ground below. Thomas was already out of the door-gun restraint and was slinging the MP-5 over his back. He looked at the 10-guage for a moment, but then ignored it. He had the MP-5 and three magazines of silver bullets, as well as Deluth’s Glock. He nodded at Snow and then shouted over the whir of the rotors. “I’ve got a radio. Whatever happens, you have to promise me that you will get help for Jack and then make sure he goes home to my sister. Promise me.”
Snow nodded. “I’m not going anywhere. You do what you have to do.”
Thomas leaned over and put his face against Jack’s, nuzzling the dog. “Thanks again, boy, for saving my life.” Then he was gone.
Alan ran with everything in him. He fought against the deep snow and tried to ignore that his body was beginning to sweat and overheat. He knew he should shed the winter coat and gloves, but there was no time. The helicopter had landed nearby and he knew instinctively that someone was coming for him. Maybe a whole group—perhaps Deluth himself. He could have swore that he saw Lieutenant Snow’s face when he looked at the pilot of the helicopter, but he might have imagined it.
He ran blindly, not even paying attention to the direction. He took the easiest routes he could find, staying away from thickets and heavy brush. He thought that he heard someone coming after him, but disregarded it as fear and imagination. The helicopter had just set down. No one could be on him that fast.
A minute later Alan was forced to choose left or right as the open path he was on forked sharply in either direction. He slowed for a moment and chose to take the right. Before he had taken a step on that path, however, something hit him hard and he went down. His mind didn’t register the gunshots until it was too late.
He felt a burning in his chest and the pain was unlike anything he could have possibly imagined. He felt more of the same as he heard more shots ring out from nearby. In fact, the shots came from only a few feet away. Thomas fired the MP-5 on full auto, watching the down feathers fly up from Alan’s winter coat. They floated in the air as blood bubbled up through the holes. Alan’s world was swirling, swimming, and darkness was approaching.
Thomas stepped forward, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He had never run so hard in his life, and he thought that his chest was going to explode. He looked down at the twitching form, and purposely stepped into view.
The young man’s eyes were open, and he was still alive. Shallow breaths produced a bubbling sound, and a moment later Alan coughed up blood. “Nothing personal,” Thomas said, keeping the MP-5 aimed at Alan’s chest. “Nothing personal, son. But you are a part of a nightmare that has to end. You have to die.”
Thomas could have sworn that the kid nodded in acknowledgement just before he stopped breathing. He lowered the MP-5 and then swung it around so that it hung loosely on his back. He switched on the small, hand-held radio that had belonged to Deluth. “Lieutenant Snow, can you read me?”
An unfamiliar voice cackled over the radio. “I can hear you, you sonofabitch. Who the hell are you?”
Thomas raised his eyebrows and looked at the radio. Thankfully, Snow’s voice came through. “I’m here.”
“I’ll be back at the bird in five. I won’t be alone.”
“Snow, Damn you! What the hell were you doing firing on that boy? Who gave you the authority and why? Is he safe?”
Thomas heard Snow answer the man. “I’m acting on orders above yours, Russeux. And I can’t tell you anything more.”
Thomas switched off the radio, deciding that he did not want to hear any more. He cursed, recalling that the machete was tucked into the frame of his backpack. He could not take care of the kid right now, and would have to wait. He knelt down and grasped the left arm of the still form, pulling the body into a sitting position. Then, with one mighty heft, he hauled the body up and over his shoulder. He began moving back to the helicopter.
Ten minutes later, and just before Russeux and two of his men made it to the clearing, Snow lifted off. He saw Russeux and the two officers burst into the clearing, looking up at the aircraft and gesturing wildly. Snow sighed and ignored them, and set the course for the airfield.
“I should take his head off right now,” Thomas said through the headset. “He’s going to regenerate and wake up.”
“Aren’t those silver bullets?” Snow asked. “They are supposed to keep him down so long as they remain in him.”
“Maybe so, but I have a bad feeling about leaving him intact, even for a short time.”
Snow held up a hand, and once again he was speaking on the radio. Thomas was prepared this time, and removed the cord from the flight helmet headset and plugged it into the handheld. He scanned the channels until he hit the one that Snow was using.
“…back to the hanger. You are to leave Tucker as he is. I repeat—you will not take anymore action against him, other than to secure him in any way that you can. Bravo team is enroute and will be at the hanger within the next hour. Copy?”
“Roger,” Snow answered.
“No," Thomas answered. "We do not copy. This is one of the bad guys, and we can’t allow him to regenerate.”
“Is this Mr. Devereaux?” the radio cackled.
“It is. I have Tucker, and there is no way that he stays in one piece. This ends here and now. No chance of this happening again.”
“You are out of your depth, mister.”
“No, you are. Your whole team was slaughtered trying to take out one of these bastards. It was me—I did the job on him. Your team leader was infected and had to put himself down. Now,” Thomas said through gritted teeth. “It seems to me that if anyone is out of their depth, it’s been you guys. You tried to transport one of these bastards across the country? How’d that work out for you? Guess what, hero? I’ve saved your asses AGAIN. So, don’t talk to me about being out of depth.”
For a long moment, there was nothing but static, but then the harsh voice returned. “You have our gratitude and our attention for your actions. But you do not understand. Unless we can learn from these…beings…this will continue to happen. We need to study them and come up with a way to defeat the infection. Perhaps even create a vaccine. Now, you were deputized by Deluth. That means you have sworn an oath. If you break it, and fail to follow orders, then you are subject to the maximum punishment under the law that we can think to hit you with. Now, do you copy?”
Thomas thought about that. “I didn’t accept any position in your club, asshole. I’m not your deputy, and I am not even a citizen of your country. Tell you what. When I touch down, I’m gone, and where I am going is straight to my embassy. Now, t
hey might be in collusion with you, but something tells me they won’t have the same reaction that you are…and won’t be so enthusiastic to keep one of these fuckers alive. That’s what I am betting.”
“Leave Mister Tucker as he is, and you can walk away, Thomas.”
Thomas shook his head. “I’m walking no matter what.”
With that, he unplugged the radio and made a sharp gesture across his throat to signal Snow. Snow shrugged, but turned off the radio, anyway.
Thomas thought about doing the horrible deed with the K-bar that he had with him, but remembering the struggle and the gore from before, he decided to wait until the touched down on the airfield.
Twenty minutes later, Snow maneuvered the helicopter as close as he could to the hanger doors, which were now closed. He touched down on the tarmac just as Thomas swung the cabin door open. Thomas turned his face away from the cold blast, then gritted his teeth and hopped out. It was snowing again, and heavy gray clouds hung above them once more. He turned and started to grab Alan’s body by the shoulders when he heard boots behind him. Thomas muttered a curse under his breath, then slowly turned around.
At least a dozen men, in full combat gear and snow-camouflage, stood five feet away, the front rank had weapons drawn and aimed at Thomas. Thomas slowly raised his hands and frowned as the apparent leader of the team stepped up to him.
“Thomas Devereux, I presume?” the man asked, his voice heavy with a French accent.
Thomas nodded warily, imagining what he must look like—covered in the dry blood, not having shaved in a week. He expected the man to extend a hand or maybe say something witty, if he was the one who had been on the radio—but Thomas was caught off guard when instead, the man swung the butt of his rifle, lightning fast, catching Thomas in the jaw. He barely had time to see the blur of movement before crumpling to the tarmac, unconscious.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Thomas awoke to bright sunlight. He squinted for several seconds, his eyes adjusting to the bright light, then realized he was in a hospital bed. He looked down at his right arm where a nasty-looking IV dripped clear liquid from a saline bag. He shifted himself so that he could sit up, then groaned and put his left hand to his jaw.
“He hit you pretty hard. That eye will be black for a while, I bet…along with your jaw.”
Thomas had heard the voice before…the pilot. He squinted again and saw Snow sitting in a small reclining chair in the corner of the room, his feet propped on an old wooden desk chair.
“Where’s my dog?” Thomas asked as he rubbed his jaw and the left side of his face.
“Oh, he’s fine. He’s at my place, being lazy with my dog. His leg is going to be fine and he has nothing else seriously wrong. He was up and around a bit today.” Snow frowned. “I think he’s worried about you, though. He won’t eat much. Looks kind of depressed.”
Thomas groaned again. “Thanks for seeing to him. I’m grateful. Where am I and how long has it been…and where is the asshole that hit me.”
“You are in the local hospital and it’s been just shy of two days. That guy who hit you, he also shot you up with something to keep you out for a while. He’s gone”
“Bastard,” Thomas said.
Snow nodded. “Look, I am here because they wanted me here when you woke up. Been sitting here since last night. They…whatever you want to call them, have wrapped everything up completely. All in all they have been pretty good about everything.” He paused, looking at Thomas’s badly bruised face. “All things considered, I guess.”
“I hope you are ready to explain what you just said.”
“I will start with the guy that hit you--this new man…the one who replaced Deluth. His name is LeDuc and he’s a real nasty piece of work. He seems to have more authority than his predecessor, and that, my friend, is scary. Long story short, everything, every event, everyone has been contained and explained. I am to have you sign some paperwork, give you a couple of things, and then see you on your way home.” He paused, thinking. “Oh…and you are not to visit your embassy…though you’d have to go a hell of a long way to do that. It would be easier to just go home.”
“See me on my way?” Thomas asked incredulously. “Paperwork?” Thomas sat up fully, and groaned again. “You make it sound like a business transaction. Snow, my friends are dead. Killed by…shit…you know by what it was. ” He shook his head. “And we’re wrapping things up with some paperwork?”
“A werewolf.” Snow said. “I think you and I have earned the right to say the word”
“Yes…we have.” Thomas stared out the window for a moment and then rubbed his eyes again, wincing as he touched the tender area where he had been struck. “And what about that young guy…what’s his name…what about him?”
“Alan Tucker.”
“Yes, Alan Tucker.”
“Well,” Snow sighed. “Officially, he’s dead. Killed outside of town in a wreck while being transported to another facility.” Seeing the incredulous look on Thomas’s face, Snow decided now would be a good time to show him the paperwork. He dropped his feet from the chair and stood up. “Here. Take a look at these. You will need to sign them all.”
Thomas grabbed the half-inch thick stack of papers. “What are these?”
Snow removed a pen from his shirt pocket. He held it out to Thomas. “They are your official statements on the events that led to your being here. I managed to talk LeDuc into letting me be the one to get these to you. I told him that things might go better if it wasn’t him or one of his men.”
Thomas nodded, understanding. “It’s a cover story. Everything is bullshit. Delmar was right. They’d have taken him and dissected him or something…worse.”
Snow gave Thomas a sad look. “He was one of your friends…I read the paperwork and saw his name.” Snow guessed the meaning of Thomas’s words, so he did not ask about Delmar. He understood that Thomas’s friend had been bitten sometime before he died. “I’m sorry, Thomas. Very sorry.” He sighed again. “I’m to make sure that you read and sign those, but I’m also supposed to tell you a few things. So, here goes. You and your friends were in a helicopter crash in which you were the only survivor…well…you and your dog. That’s it…the entire story. You don’t know anything about anything else. You were found by air rescue after having survived in a cave for three days. Your statement was printed in the Hope newspaper yesterday.”
Thomas guffawed.
Snow continued, “Alan Tucker murdered that man…Jeremiah…out at his cabin and burned it down. Turns out that he and Jeremiah were responsible for the murders of everyone at the cabin. So, Alan turned on Jeremiah at some point and killed him. Then Alan killed some other folks outside of town while he was escaping custody.”
“Sonofabitch. They are pinning murders on that innocent kid while Alastair…Jeremiah…doesn’t even get an honorable mention. Well, now…how completely screwed is that?”
Snow shook his head. “It sucks the big one, Thomas. I’m not justifying their bullshit story, but Alan did kill the men who were escorting him, and then he killed an elderly man and woman inside their own home.” He raised a hand to prevent Thomas’s coming comments. “I know…I know…this was while he wasn’t himself, of course…but you can see that he isn’t exactly innocent.”
“His poor family,” Thomas said, looking down at the papers, still not reading them yet. “They will believe…his friends and family will believe he is a murderer. Does he deserve that?”
“He was…is a friend of mine. We weren’t close, but I’ve known him for a long time. Look, Thomas, you and I don’t have a choice here. Not if we want our lives back. They checked your blood—and mine—and we aren’t infected. They have already sanitized the whole situation and it’s been in the papers. We can’t tell the truth, Thomas. Not if we want to live normal lives…not if we want to live.”
Thomas was silent for a long moment. “What did they do with the kid?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Snow said, but Thomas
noted the look on the man’s face and it said it all.
Thomas started flipping through the paperwork. “They’ve done a great job. These are all sworn statements in perfect order…and a governmental privacy clause that leaves us facing life imprisonment for failure to comply. That’s probably horse shit, but the whole setup is damned good.”
Snow nodded. “The last page has a set of airline tickets paper-clipped…for you and Jack. They took the liberty of setting you up for tomorrow…to your sister’s town in Florida.”
Thomas flipped to the last page and reviewed the ticket. “So they did. Well, wasn’t that nice of the bastards.”
“Will you be alright, Thomas? I know we do not know each other…but I wanted you to know that as long as I am around, you can talk to me. Hell, I am the only person that you dare to talk with about any of this. Not if you want to keep your freedom—or, knowing what little I do about those men back there—your life.”
Thomas shook his head. “You know, I knew the world was screwed up…I saw it firsthand while in the military, but this? This whole thing opens up a whole new realm of screwed up possibilities. And all of them are unbelievable…and all as real as death itself.”
“They wanted me to tell you that your friends’ remains are flying out today. They’ve been cremated. The families got an order to hold the remains, but somehow there was a quote-unquote mix-up and the cremation happened anyway. Also, they’ve been prevented from coming up here. ”
Thomas threw the covers back and sat on the edge of the bed. He removed the tape and yanked out the plastic tubing, holding his wrist to stop the bleeding. “Christ, how will I be able to lie to them?” He asked the question to no one. “Do I have any clothes, here?”
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