He Was Not Prepared (Birth Of Heavy Metal Book 1)

by Michael Todd

  Other creatures were drawn in by the noise and seemed to act with the same pack tactics as the hyenas.

  A giant locust leapt from the bushes toward Sal, and he ducked. Addams stumbled with the sudden jerk. He and Sal half-carried Kennedy, and even she pitched in. Her face white with pain, she used the arm slung over Addams’ shoulder to shoot at the creatures.

  The animal numbers had increased, Sal realized. He could hear them thrash through the jungle around them. Some seemed a little timid at first, but their fervor mounted as more and more gathered.

  “They’re not so harmless now, eh?” Lynch asked and grinned at Sal as he crunched the locust’s head under his boot.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he responded brusquely. He tightened his hold on the sergeant and tried to move a little faster. Was this a delayed response to the plant he’d removed? The pheromones would understandably linger in the air for a while. They might not be quite as intense with an immature plant or if it’d had more time to release them for a longer duration. Still, the intensity and the number of animals that seemed to work together to attack the squad seemed like it could be a latent reaction, even to a lighter dose.

  Whatever the reason, their chances didn’t look good.

  Sal used the time to capture the creatures’ movements with his HUD. Existing footage wouldn’t show animals reacting like this every day, and if they hadn’t wanted to kill them all, he would have found them fascinating. There were creatures that he hadn’t seen before. Some were already in the database, although they were bigger. It seemed that the closer they got to ground zero, the bigger and stronger the animals had become.

  More worrying, though, was their behavior. It wasn’t natural for Earth animals to work together to eliminate a threat. If this was the effect of the pheromones, it was very different than the original theory that it sent the animals into a crazed attack.

  This was a coordinated assault across multiple species, from herbivorous locusts to the massive, six-legged panthers they’d seen the day before. Even the monkeys were aggressive. These smaller creatures weren’t as brave as their larger counterparts, but they threw projectiles at them from the trees. It was distracting more than damaging, Sal admitted, but none of this was behavior that the creatures had learned from the animals on Earth.

  It seemed the Pita plants were something the goop wanted to be protected, and this was how it accomplished that. They needed to submit these plants to in-depth study to get to the bottom of this, but it would have to be deep study and controlled testing in a lab, not simply field testing. They should possibly even expose regular animals to similar pheromones to see if the reaction was limited to only animals that were products of the goop.

  This promising line of study had dissertation material written all over it, but his priority right now was fighting for their lives in the Zoo.

  Sal almost regretted taking that plant now but not enough that he would give it up. Well, not yet, anyway.

  He kept his head down and concentrated on Kennedy and wherever it was that they were going. They had no clear direction at this point and had to simply allow the animals to herd them into what hopefully wasn’t a trap.

  Addams carried most of the weight and kept his gun handy to fire at any of the creatures that tried to cut them off.

  “Get your head out of your ass, Jacobs,” the gunner snarled. “Either work harder or find a weapon and fight.”

  Sal realized that he should have snagged one of the bounty hunters’ weapons. He hadn’t thought of it. His experience with violence was to deliver particularly scathing and cutting verbal remarks to people who gave him lip about anything.

  He wondered if this was the time to point out that Addams was trained special forces and he was merely a doctoral graduate. Why should he carry any weight at all? But scathing remarks could come later. For now, it was time to do what he could to help keep them alive.

  “Give me a weapon and I’ll help out,” he growled. His muscles burned from the exertion.

  “Take my pistol again, Jacobs,” Kennedy hissed and tried to push them forward as much as possible, even with her wounded leg. Sal could see that the hasty stitches must have worked loose as red appeared on the white bandage. He had little choice but to forge on and do this. It was time to get his head out of his ass. Where was Kennedy’s sidearm?

  Her leg on the near side was the wounded one. Sal fought back a moment of panic when he wondered if the holster with her sidearm might have been tossed aside with the ruined piece of armor. Thankfully, he saw the large holster on her good leg. Movement caught his eye, and he glanced at one of the massive panthers with the bristles on its back.

  He reached desperately for the weapon since it appeared that none of the others had seen the creature charging directly at him. He ran his hand up her leg in a search for the belt. They moved forward, right into the panther’s path, and all he could see was the massive, poison-filled fangs a few scant feet from his throat. Suddenly, a couple of gunshots set his ears ringing again, and this time he couldn’t resist the urge to flinch.

  “That’s not my gun, Jacobs,” Kennedy said warningly. Sal raised an eyebrow and looked at his hand. It rested between her thighs and pressed at the junction where she’d cut the damaged armor off.

  Addams grinned. “Getting a little desperate for some action before you die there, Jacobs?”

  Kennedy slapped the man across the back of his helmet. “It’s really not the time, Addams.”

  “Shut up,” was all Sal could think to say. He shook his head and finally located the weapon. This time, he made sure to thumb the safety off before he secured it in a firm grip and looked around. A couple of shots from behind indicated that Lynch and Cortez had no trouble finding targets.

  Addams was distracted as two hyenas lurched from the brush to bite at the tendons at the back of his legs. Their teeth stuck on the armor, and they were quickly disposed of. Sal desperately wanted at least a blood sample from them, but…yeah, like Kennedy said, not the time.

  He raised the pistol as a couple of the grasshoppers jumped at him. His memories of the time when he would have considered them too harmless to shoot were gone. The massive gun kicked hard against his hand and sent his first and second shots high. The third punched through the creature’s head plate, and it fell and spewed blue blood.

  Sal fought back the bile and rushed forward for a few steps with his gun raised. A hyena leapt in front of him and bounded for his neck, and he pulled the trigger. This time, he tagged it with the first shot. The slug entered high in the shoulder, and the creature stumbled back into the thick underbrush.

  Another beast hurtled forward, and he pulled the trigger once more. The bullet struck home but didn’t slow the massive panther down, so he squeezed it again and again. The final one wasn’t necessary since the creature was already on the ground, but better safe than sorry.

  “Don’t waste ammo, Jacobs,” Kennedy snapped and the gun clicked as if on cue, the magazine empty.

  “Sorry. How do you reload?”

  “There’s a button on the side,” Addams said. “That drops the empty mag. There’s another one beside Kennedy’s holster.”

  “Try to find it the first time, Jacobs,” Kennedy said with a grin. “No more poorly veiled grope attempts, eh?”

  “I thought you said it wasn’t the time,” Addams protested and looked visibly annoyed.

  “Not the time for you, maybe,” Kennedy responded as Sal retrieved a new magazine from her thigh armor. “I’ve been wounded so I get some leeway. Got it?”

  Addams nodded and refocused his attention on moving them forward.

  Sal froze at a loud hiss, and the smell of foul smoke filled the air. He turned instinctively. Smoke billowed from Lynch’s chest plate. A creature resembling a massive Komodo dragon with pale blue scales lay a few yards away. It was already dead, but the effects of what it had spat at Lynch continued.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the man growled and yanked the simmering piece
of armor off. The suit had thankfully been designed to be easily removed during combat to facilitate repair as the wearer would certainly have been seared by the acid. As Lynch tossed the ruined plate aside, Sal could see that it had almost been completely burned through.

  He’d heard of a beetle that could produce acid as a defense mechanism, but that was the only example in nature he was aware of, and it was nowhere near strong enough to eat through solid steel.

  Unfortunately, it would be impossible to test the acid, but that was probably as well. He couldn’t be sure he’d get it into a plastic syringe without the acid melting through the casing.

  “Fucking bloody goddamn hell,” Lynch cursed with a regretful glance at his ruined chest plate. “There’s no fucking way to repair that now.”

  “We have to keep moving,” Sal grumbled. His motion sensor detected that the animals were still very much present. They circled the squad, and he could hear growls and hisses in the undergrowth. For some reason, they suddenly no longer attacked. That didn’t seem in tune with other reports of the animals’ reactions to the removal of whole Pita plants. Those indicated that the creatures continued the aggression until the culprits had returned the plant or died.

  Maybe he was simply paranoid. Perhaps this was the creatures’ reaction when humans were shot in their territory? It was odd behavior, but he couldn’t say it was out of the ordinary in the Zoo with the little experience he had.

  “They’re backing away,” Addams noted as he accessed his own motion sensors.

  “What?” Kennedy asked. Sal thought that perhaps damage in her suit’s circuitry prevented her from accessing the HUD controls.

  “The motion sensors tell me that they’re moving away,” Cortez said and quickly checked the ammo count on his rifle before he turned to Sal, Kennedy, and Addams. “It’s like they’ve lost interest or something.”

  “That could mean we’ve moved out of their territory,” Lynch stated roughly.

  “Or we moved into the territory of something all these critters would rather not mess with,” Sal interjected.

  “That’s…not helpful, Jacobs,” Addams said.

  “Anyway,” Kennedy interjected, “the sun will set soon. I don’t want to see what happens to the animals we killed when night falls. We should find somewhere to camp.”

  Sal studied the jungle that surrounded them. It was impossible that the animals would cease their attack without outside influence. It might seem like a good thing, but if the outside influence did mean that the squad had wandered into the territory of a more powerful beast while they were tired, wounded, and low on ammo, it would be an out of the frying pan, into the fire situation. He didn’t believe that now was the time to pause and take a breather.

  Then again, what if it had to do with the pheromones released by the plant he’d collected? What if the smoke released by the acid melting the armor plate had somehow counteracted the frenzy effect of the Pita plant? Was it possible? Well, they were in the middle of a jungle of plants genetically altered by alien goop. The rulebook had been out the window for a while now.

  Addams finally looked at Kennedy’s wound. “You tore the stitches,” he accused and squatted to inspect the bandage. “The wound seems okay for now. I’ll need to stitch it up again, though.”

  “Not yet,” Kennedy growled. “We need to find a defensible position, which means out of here.”

  The three gunners agreed and checked their weapons. Sal took advantage of the pause and jogged to the dead lizard. He grabbed a syringe from his pouch and drew a good blood sample. A quick flick from his scalpel sliced a small section from the creature’s blue scales. It wouldn’t be a good idea to sample the acid without protective equipment, but he could study the creature’s DNA when they returned to the Staging Area.

  He smiled at the fact that it no longer felt like a jinx to think that.

  “Come on, Jacobs!” Addams called.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They continued for another half an hour and forged deeper into the jungle. Sal and Addams helped Kennedy limp through the tough terrain as Cortez and Lynch kept watch in case the animals followed. Sal couldn’t be sure if it were because they were close to the center or if it was a result of the fight, but the Zoo definitely seemed louder now than it had been over the past couple of days. Between predators’ roars, cries from smaller animals, and screeches from birds, he couldn’t be sure which made the most noise.

  The oddest part was that they saw nothing, not even the smaller simians that had been so curious and followed the squad for hours.

  No one spoke, though they stopped a couple of times when Lynch or Cortez thought they saw something move in the bushes. These breaks unnerved the group, and they picked up their pace until the light faded. They could no longer see the sun with the dense tree cover, but the gathering twilight was a clear sign to set up camp.

  Kennedy was the first to call it. Her face was pale and she looked like she could barely move, but her voice hadn’t lost its commanding authority.

  “Okay, boys, let’s work this out,” she instructed as Sal and Addams set her down. “Cortez and Lynch, set up the perimeter. Addams and Jacobs, get heaters and shelters up.”

  “I think we need to look at your leg first, Sarge,” the gunner said.

  The sergeant rolled her eyes. “Fine. The rest of you, get to work.”

  Sal nodded and grunted when Lynch pushed the shelter packs into his chest. If the truth be told, he wasn’t the best choice for the job as he’d only watched them assembled once or twice. He acknowledged the laziness of that now, but he’d convinced himself that he would only be in the way of people who actually knew what to do. No doubt the rest of the squad felt that way too.

  Even so, they were down a member and he needed to step the fuck up. He did have a fairly good grasp of what he should do, so he started with the heater lamps first. These were positioned around the camp to provide the most warmth and light their camp circle without reflecting into the jungle to reveal their position to random hungry scavengers.

  As the sun disappeared in full, Sal heard Addams call him.

  “Hey, Jacobs,” he said from where he crouched to treat Kennedy’s leg wound. “Would you swing one of those lamps to give us some light over here?”

  Sal nodded. “Will do.” He dragged a lamp on its stand to the two of them. Addams had stripped his armor and now knelt to run water over the open wound. The bleeding had stopped, but it seemed likely that even a small movement would set it off again.

  He held the lamp closer to give Addams more light as the medic tried to remove the torn stitches.

  “They have new machines in first aid units these days,” the man said. “There’s no need for stitches anymore. They are like plastic clamps that pop out when the wound has closed and healed enough. I can see why the army didn’t equip us with them as they’re expensive, but they make doing this seem like a couple of cave people banging on rocks.” He indicated the needle and thread on standby for when the wound was clean enough to close again. The man was a damn good medic and might even have a shot at a medical degree or possibly a doctorate of his own. Maybe that was why he was there, to pay for medical school.

  “Sure,” Kennedy growled and kept her gaze focused away from where Addams picked lightly at her wounded leg. “We could probably get one of those for ourselves once we get back. Maybe pitch in a bit of our own cash to equip ourselves with a machine.”

  Addams looked up. “Will they allow squads to equip themselves?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. But if they bring in the likes of Lynch as third-party consultants on military operations like this, I don’t see why we shouldn’t have better equipment.”

  The gunner nodded. “At least they gave us a halfway decent specialist this time. One who tries to put in the hard work.” He winked at Sal, who smiled.

  “What can I say?” Sal grumbled, a little self-conscious. “I’m not a doctor yet, so I have to pull my weight some other way, rig
ht?”

  “Your weight and somebody else’s too,” Kennedy corrected. “I’m on a lot of painkillers right now, so I’m not really sure, but I don’t think I’ve thanked you for all your help to get me out of that mess alive, Jacobs. To get us all out alive.”

  He struggled to receive compliments so only nodded and then shook his head. It seemed particularly dumb. Maybe he tried to say “thanks but not necessary” without actually using the words.

  “Hey, I did some heavy carrying myself, you know,” Addams cut in and eased another ruined stitch from the wound. “Plus, you know, all this? Don’t I deserve some thanks too?”

  Kennedy laughed. “Well, I expect you to go above and beyond by now, Addams.” She placed a light hand on his shoulder and squeezed in a non-verbal show of thanks. “It’s the geeky types that I never expect to be any good in the field, so I have to keep my expectations low.”

  Sal smiled and looked away. The touch seemed a little like personal affection, which was more than he’d seen her show anybody else in the squad. A part of him wished that he could trade places with the gunner for a moment, and he realized he had a crush on Kennedy. Did it have something to do with a woman in power, maybe? No. Kennedy certainly had power, but she didn’t fit the stereotype and acted better than other women Sal had worked for before. She wasn’t overbearing yet gave orders and expected them to be obeyed. She was a professional.

  Weird. He would have thought that nothing in that place that would make him like it, but Kennedy came close. She seemed to like Addams though, and why not? The guy was badass and as intelligent as hell on top of that. Someone who could handle himself and others in a tough spot. Sal merely tried while Addams succeeded.

  He couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. It was difficult not to.

  Lynch and Cortez finished placing the motion sensors and joined them in the camp. Both looked to be in a bad mood—like they’d had a discussion without consensus. Sal knew instinctively what the topic under discussion had been.