“We’re offering a reward for the capture and return of Harry Goldman,” he intoned. “The reward is in the six-figure range and we are currently taking calls from anyone who might have seen him. We believe he’s still in the state of New York, and…”
Callaghan shut off the television and tossed the remote onto the bed. “The FBI is offering six figures? That is some serious coin. I believe I could use some of that.”
Harry said nothing, and the fat man prodded him with the barrel of the rifle. “So, you feel like telling me what you really did?”
Doug interceded and growled, “All I’ll say is he didn’t do it. When the real killer crashes through your door, you’d better hope you’re quick on the draw, because he’ll be coming for you first. He’s the biggest thing you’ll ever see, bigger than you, and ten times as mean.”
Callaghan laughed. “You mean he’s a big dog? I’ve shot big animals before, buddy, so don’t try to scare me. I don’t scare easy.”
Doug shook his head. “No, this guy’s a bear. You think you’re tough? You’re nothing.”
His statement earned him a grin from Callaghan. “We’ll see,” he said. He got up from his chair and went over to the door to inspect it and his mouth twisted in anger. “Which one of you boys kicked in the lock?” he asked. “This is one of the strongest makes on the market, and you busted it like it was nothing.”
Doug started to speak, but Harry’s anger increased and he gave his companion a gentle kick in his hindquarters to stop him. “You can talk to me,” he said. “Your lock is a joke.”
Callaghan’s face turned red. “Is that right?” He came over and smacked Harry across the face, which sent him sprawling and left a bright welt on his cheek. His good humor disappeared and a wintry tone replaced it. “Let me remind you, kid, you were the one who trespassed, you and the dog-guy over here.”
To emphasize his point, he kicked Doug hard in his side which elicited a loud groan from the hapless victim. “I got every right to shoot you or turn you in. I haven’t decided which to do yet. I’d rather not, but don’t think I won’t. Think about that.”
Harry couldn’t think for a moment. His ears rang from the slap and then he concentrated, blocked out the pain, and shook his head to clear it. Getting back on the bed, he nodded. “All right, I’ll tell you the truth. Just don’t hit my friend, okay?”
Callaghan eyed him like a man with a flyswatter would eye his next winged target, but backed off, a curious look on his ruddy face. “Start talking, kid.”
Harry didn’t understand why everyone had to call him a kid. “I’m a transgenic researcher, Doug is a victim of an experiment, the FBI is after me, and I’m totally innocent. You think I could kill all those people?” He smiled in spite of the pain. “You’re dumber than I thought.”
Well, it had been the truth. From the dubious expression on Callaghan’s face, it was obvious he didn’t want to understand. The insult obviously pissed him off as he raised his hand for another slap and slowly lowered it as the meaning of the words came through to him. “Transgenics…are you talking about animals and people, mixing them together?”
Harry was tempted to give the most sarcastic reply imaginable and decided not to. Instead, he just nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. It’s the science of transposing genes from one species to another. They also call it cross-species transposition.”
Callaghan’s eyes flickered. It seemed the windmills of his mind had started to turn a bit faster. “So what’s the whole idea behind this?”
“The whole idea is to use those animal genes to cure diseases. Except that I didn’t do this to my friend.” He nodded at his semi-canine companion. “Someone else did. We’re trying to find out who did it so I can reverse the process.”
Callaghan’s face lost its quizzical look and he burst out laughing. “Kid, that’s the best story yet! I don’t know much about science, but you’re the best liar I’ve ever seen.” He kept laughing and slapped his enormous thigh repeatedly.
Harry knew educating him would be an uphill battle all the way. “Tell you what, let me show you my work and my bio and then you can laugh. We got a deal? You got me tied up and it’s not like I can get away, right?”
Callaghan stared at him for a moment and then shrugged. He took the Swiss Army knife out of the toolbox, reached into his pocket and brought out a cellphone. “Okay, just for fun before I call the FBI and claim my reward, you can show me.” He hefted his rifle. “Just don’t do anything stupid or Mr. Protector will do his job.”
After the man had cut him loose, Harry rubbed his wrists to get the circulation back in his hands and got his computer working. Soon, the files appeared on the screen and he pointed everything out. “Take a look and tell me if I’m full of it.”
He searched for a file about his father and after clicking on it, his late father’s picture appeared. Callaghan forgot about his weapon for a moment and his lips moved slightly as he read the information. With a grunt he straightened up and a look of respect appeared on his face. “Okay, maybe you’re telling the truth. But seriously, kid, if this bear thing you’re telling me about is around here, then how come I haven’t found it?”
“You wouldn’t want to,” Doug chimed in from the bed. In the space of a few minutes, his snout had become more pronounced and his voice sounded gruffer than ever. “Even that pigeon shooter of yours wouldn’t stop him.”
Callaghan started to reply and then a soft meow came from outside. “Jeez, we got another visitor?” he asked with a clearly peeved tone in his voice as if he resented his interrogation time being interrupted. “I don’t have any milk.”
Going over to the door, he opened it and peered out. Anastasia’s arm shot out of the night with her claws extended and she wrapped her hand around his throat. The fat man’s face quickly turned from red to purple in the space of two seconds. “I don’t really like milk,” she said. “Drop the rifle and live. Decide!”
After a moment’s hesitation and some gurgling on his part, Callaghan did, and Harry went over to pick it up. He also took the man’s cellphone for good measure. The fat man’s eyes bugged out in fear as he stared at her, then Doug, who was eyeing him with a wolfish grin, and then back to her again. His body quivered and it seemed as if he was on the verge of having a heart attack. He sputtered, “Who in the hell is this?”
Anastasia marched him over to the chair, pushed him down on it, and shook her body all over, spraying the area with water. “I’m Harry’s girlfriend and right now I’m wet and also very pissed off. So be a good host, stay in your seat, and shut up.”
Callaghan didn’t stop staring at her for a moment, even when she went over to Harry and hugged him tightly. “You’re really a…a…”
“Yeah, I’m a cat-girl,” she interrupted and pointed to the other transgenic victim who was now slurping beer out of a bottle. “Deal with it. I have.”
Doug gave a loud belch. He stood next to the refrigerator chugging on a beer and now looked more canine than human. “Beer’s good,” he managed to say, a slight coating of foam around his mouth.
Callaghan sat back in his chair and mopped the fear-sweat from his face. Without his rifle he didn’t seem very confident. In fact, he practically wilted in their presence. “So are you guys going to kill me or what? I don’t have much money…”
“We don’t want money,” Harry cut in. “We want some information and maybe we’ll borrow your car.” He stopped to think for a moment. “How long have you been living up here?”
Callaghan gulped down air. “About twelve years,” he replied. “I started my business back in oh-two and it’s been going pretty good since then.”
“Tell us about your neighbors,” Anastasia said. She leaned her face in close to Callaghan’s and he recoiled in fear. “Did you notice anyone up here, anyone unusual?”
He thought for a moment, licked his lips nervously, and then shook his head and his voice shook as he spoke. “This is a pretty big area. The closest place to me is the Slid
e Mountain Forest House and I’ve known the owners for a long time. I know most of the other people around here, too. It’s for my business, that’s all, I swear.”
As Callaghan gibbered on about being an honest person, someone who just wanted to do his job, Harry decided their host wasn’t such a bad guy after all. He disliked the concept of hunting, but Callaghan didn’t seem like the psychotic type he’d initially pegged him for.
After thinking it over, it was time for him to do a little searching of his own. “Do you have a phone book?” he asked.
“There’s one in the bottom drawer of the desk.”
Harry pulled out the phone book, leafed through it, and found the section on this part of the Catskills. He named a few names and asked the hunter if he knew the people. Callaghan nodded at each name, but when he came to one of them—a Mr. Farber—their reluctant host held up his hand.
“I knew Farber a little.” Callaghan stroked his beard in thought. He seemed calmer now, as if he’d come to accept the impossible. “He had a heart attack the first year I got up here. From what everyone told me, he used to come up with his wife every summer for vacation. He died real fast, just about the same time I got this place.”
“Do you know who bought his cabin?”
Callaghan blinked a few times as if trying to recall the details and then he snapped his fingers. “Yeah, yeah, I just remembered! I met him once when I was making the rounds, trying to drum up business. He talked like an American, but he had a foreign name. It’s, uh,” he tapped the side of his head a few times. “It’s Nurmelev.”
Harry thought about the names he’d heard his girlfriend murmur. Nurmo…Nurmlev…Nurmelev…it had to be the same guy. Riffling through the phone book, he couldn’t find the name, but that meant nothing. Some people had unlisted numbers. His girlfriend and Doug only stared at their captive. Obviously, the name meant nothing to them, either. “Did you ever do business with him?”
Callaghan shook his head. “No, he said he wasn’t interested. He was really polite, but pretty set in his ways. He said he always got his food shipped in through another company. When I drove around his place years back, I saw workmen fixin’ up the cabin and sometimes vans passed through.”
“What kind of vans?”
“Vans,” Callaghan shrugged. “Some of ‘em had advertisements for carpeting or electricians or food. I figured they were his suppliers.”
The information—vans driving through, workmen—gave Harry an idea. He stepped outside and dialed the number to the FBI. It had started to rain really hard now, and the water bounced off the earth and the cabin and soaked his legs. While he waited for the call to go through he checked the darkness for any shadows. Seeing none, he heard the voice of Farrell say, “Harry, is that you?”
“Yeah, and I need you to check something.”
“I need you to come in,” the agent countered and he sounded almost panicky, unusual for him. “Where are you?”
Harry didn’t answer. Aware that they were probably tracing the call and locking on to his location, he just gave the agent his ideas. “Try running a trace on a guy named Nurmelev. You still have your Interpol connections, right?”
“Yeah, I do, but…”
“Just do it,” Harry ordered. He hung up and threw the cellphone as hard and as far as he could into the woods. Maybe the FBI would do as he asked or at the very least, send someone up here after they traced the call. After rejoining his friends inside, he asked Callaghan, “What did he look like?”
“Lemme think for a moment. He was short, bald, and had a really narrow…”
A bellow suddenly cut through the rainstorm and Callaghan’s head jerked up at the sound. “What in the hell was that?” he asked, his voice sounding fearful.
Anastasia’s ears pricked up and Doug started to growl. Harry quickly packed up his computer and modem while the hunter shivered in his chair and practically wet his pants. “What the hell was that?” he asked again, and this time he sounded on the verge of panic.
“Company,” Doug said grimly. He went over to the door, sniffing the floor and then retraced his steps over to Anastasia. “You smell him?”
The fur stood up all over her body and she gave a hiss of pure rage. “Yeah, and he’s close.”
Close was an understatement. Harry tossed the rifle to the hunter. “Let’s see how good you are.”
Holding his weapon seemed to give Callaghan a sense of reassurance. He flicked off the safety, gulped, and set his stance. “If he wants in, then he’s gonna be toast.”
False bravado or not, Harry hoped the hunter was as good as he claimed to be. A second later, a peal of thunder echoed and the door burst open. Ivan stood in the doorway, a wicked grin on his face. Callaghan’s jaw dropped and he almost dropped the rifle as well. “Sweet Jesus,” he gasped.
“Get him!” Harry yelled.
Callaghan raised his rifle, and keeping it firmly lodged against his shoulder, he fired five shots in rapid succession. Each bullet caught the bear-man full in the chest. Ivan roared, staggered briefly, and then lumbered forward and backhanded the fat man, sending him flying across the room. He slammed into the wall and sagged down. The bear-man twisted the rifle until it snapped and tossed the pieces aside.
“Damn it!” Callaghan swore, and got unsteadily to his feet. He staggered over to the alcove. “That was a good rifle, damn it! Give me some time!”
Anastasia gave him the seconds he needed. Hissing and spitting, she went after the creature and raked her claws against his face and then jumped over his head to land on his back. She continued the assault while Doug, who muttered, “Man’s best friend” jumped in and bit into the monster’s leg, worrying it like a dog would worry a rat.
Ivan snarled a hot, enraged cry of pain coupled with pure animal rage. He rolled over on his side and Anastasia jumped off just in time as Doug scurried away to a safe distance.
“Get back!”
Harry heard the voice, moved aside, and Callaghan stepped into view with an even longer-barreled and more lethal-looking weapon. “This is my equalizer, the Predator. It ain’t legal, but it’ll take him out.”
While Anastasia and Doug stood together panting from the exertion, the hunter took center stage, sighted and fired point blank. It sounded like a cannon going off. His first two shots hit each of Ivan’s shoulders and the creature actually staggered back against the wall. The next one hit him right in the chest, and he sagged to his knees. Blood ran from his mouth and he stayed in a bent over position, but didn’t die.
“What in the hell…?” Callaghan asked in disbelief. “This is supposed to stop an elephant!”
It didn’t stop Ivan. In a flash he got up and charged, grabbed Callaghan in a lethal embrace, and crushed him along with his weapon. Harry heard the man’s spine and the rifle’s steel spine crack. Blood spurted out of his mouth and ran down his chin, turning his beard a deeper red. Ivan let him go and the hunter sagged to ground, stone cold dead.
Ivan then turned his attention to the smaller trio. Anastasia once again went on the offensive, slashing at the immense beast’s face and neck area and spitting out her rage. The monster’s cries reached nuclear proportions and with a lightning fast move, he grabbed Anastasia who yowled and raked his face. He hunched his shoulders and buried his chin between them, and even though she tried to slash his throat open, she couldn’t quite reach it. “Harry, do something!” she implored.
Fight back! He grabbed the toolbox and battered the creature’s head with it repeatedly, but it didn’t seem to have any kind of effect. In desperation, he dropped the box and set himself up in a fighting stance. His boxing skills came to life and he rained shot after shot at the creature’s neck and jaw. He tried to think of it as punching a heavy bag.
This heavy bag, though, hit back, and Ivan took one of his hands off his female captive with one hand and swatted Harry aside. The blow stunned him for a moment and he sagged to his knees.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Doug marchin
g forward, stalwart and unafraid. He seemed resigned to his fate and waved his paw as if to say no further help was needed. “You’d better leave. See ya, bud,” he muttered, and went after the monster’s other undamaged leg. With a loud growl, he bit ferociously into the giant’s thigh as hard as possible.
Ivan roared again and tossed Anastasia through the window. A shower of glass rained down on the floor, and the monster reached down to grab his smaller prey. His paws went around Doug’s neck and started to squeeze the life out of him. Doug twisted his head and choked, “Get out now!”
Harry didn’t want to go, but he had no choice. He ran to the door, only pausing long enough to see his friend reach up to scratch the monster’s face with his own sharp claws and then bite as hard as possible into his opponent’s beefy arm. Then Anastasia came around from the side of the house still shaking the glass off her body, grabbed his hand, and they ran into the storm.
The rain pelted down, a crack of thunder sounded, and a flash of lightning illuminated the cabin. An image of Ivan slowly eviscerating Doug seared itself into Harry’s brain, a horrifying picture of slow torture and death.
A clap of thunder sounded again and over it, he heard a scream of agony and then a bellow of pure rage coupled with the shouts of a fresh kill. Harry stopped momentarily, torn between his girlfriend and the man—not dog—who’d sacrificed himself for a nobler cause. Tears of frustration ran down his face. “We’ve gotta go back!”
Anastasia pulled him close to her and shouted over the storm, “We can’t do anything for him now!”
She was crying as well, but still had the presence of mind to escape the situation. Ivan had the bloodlust in him and wouldn’t be satisfied with just one victim. She yanked on his arm and they lit out into the night, their tears mixing with the rain.
As he ran, Harry reflected on the man who’d given his life for them both. He hadn’t known Doug very long—only a little over a day—but he’d seemed like a decent person and now…now his friend was dead and he was running for his life and didn’t know if he’d live to see the next day’s sunrise.
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