by Bob Mayer
* * *
*Chapter 12* _Land Between the Lakes_ _3:12 P.M._ "Go after it!" Colonel Lewis ordered. Riley looked down from his perch on top of the humvee. "No, sir." He keyed the radio. "Ranger Two, this is One. Over." He waited a few seconds. "Ranger Two, this is One. If you can hear me, break squelch twice. Over." The low hissing of the radio continued unabated. Nothing. Riley looked at his other two vehicles. Doc Seay had driven over to the DIA men and was working on the two bodies while Caruso manned the fifty, pointing it at the woods where the armed Synbat had fled. Philips had moved his vehicle close to that tree line, also providing security. Riley felt a hollow weight in his chest as he pondered various courses of action. He quickly made his decision and hopped off the vehicle, Carter replacing him on the gun. Colonel Lewis placed himself in front of Riley as he jumped to the ground. "I'm ordering you to pursue that Synbat, mister." Riley looked him in the eye. "No, sir. I'm not going after that thing until I know exactly what I'm up against. You've lied to me from the beginning and have continued lying throughout. Right now, as far as I'm concerned, you don't have any credibility as an officer." Riley brushed past him and moved over to Doc Seay, Lewis trailing him. "How are they?" Seay stood up slowly and shook his head. "Both dead." "Take care of the crew chief from the helicopter." Riley turned and addressed Lewis. "That's two more. Because of these things eleven people are dead -- that I know of. I don't know how many more you haven't told us about. I've also got two men missing, and I think that might be where the Synbat got the M16. In which case, two of my men are probably dead too." Riley turned to his team members. "Bob, take your vehicle and try to find Knutz. Check the roads leading up here from the southwest. Be careful. These things are armed now. Give me radio checks with your location every five minutes." "Roger that, chief." Philips hopped on board his humvee and it roared out of sight. Riley walked away from the bodies and Colonel Lewis. He poked his head in the door of the van. The rounds from his machine gun had torn apart the interior. The two DIA men's bodies had not been spared either, the bullets compounding the wounds the Synbat had caused, producing barely recognizable corpses. The story was told by the empty MP-5 submachine gun lying in the mud outside the door and the 9mm brass on the floor of the van and in the dirt outside. Riley splashed over to where Ward's body lay. The doctor's sightless eyes stared up into the light, misty rain, his throat torn out. Riley felt no compassion. Riley walked over to Doc Seay's humvee. Doc had the crew chief in the back, stabilized. The man was semiconscious, obviously on some sort of strong painkiller. "How's he doing?" Riley asked Doc Seay. "A couple of minor breaks. Nothing too bad. I've splinted the leg, which is the worst. We need to take him back to post to get X-rays and let them set the broken bones." Riley checked his watch, then went over to Lewis, who was supervising his men as they put the Synbat's remains into a body bag. Riley found it disgusting that they gave top priority to the creature's remains while the human bodies still lay in the mud. Before the DIA men had zipped the bag, Riley pushed them aside and lay the flaps open, looking at the creature. He was shocked by what he saw. It looked more human than monkey, as if a man had been given some simian characteristics rather than the other way around. Large fangs protruded from the thrusting jaw, but otherwise the shape of the head was manlike, with a high forehead suggesting intelligence. The eyes had golden irises and, even in death, spoke of something more than animal cunning. The body was covered with thin brown hair. The hands were totally human, with just a smattering of coarse hair on the backs. Riley's gaze scanned down the body. There was a powerful-looking tail, and the muscled legs were bowed. The toes were longer than human toes and looked capable of gripping. A crude bag made of torn cloth was tied over the creature's left shoulder. Riley untied the knot and looked in. It contained several scalpels and medical saws. At least now he knew how the collars had been removed and what had made the clean cuts on some of the bodies. No sign of a backpack. The way the Synbat had used the rifle indicated both intelligence and training. Riley felt a chill as he considered the implications of what he had just experienced. No wonder Merrit said "so-called" monkeys. What were these creatures? Riley looked up at Lewis, struggling to contain his rage and deal with the matters at hand. "Sir, we need to send the crew chief from the helicopter back to the hospital at Fort Campbell." Lewis licked his lips. "Is it critical?" "No, sir. Simple fracture of the leg, but there's nothing more we can do for him out here." "We can't move anybody until I get word from Washington on how to handle this thing." Riley wasn't thrilled, but he held his tongue. Lewis was an errand boy. Right now was the time for damage control. Riley's first priority was to find Knutz and T-bone, and he had sent Bob Philips to work on that. He went back to his own humvee to start on the second priority. Carter had the vehicle's antenna hooked into the PRC-70 radio to receive the morning's message from Powers. Carter had just finished transcribing the six-letter groups off the DMDG. Riley sat in the driver's seat, glad to finally be out of the rain. "Got the receive?" Carter handed Riley a piece of paper. Riley pointed at the FM radio. "Hear from Ranger Two or Four yet?" Carter indicated negatively. "Nothing from Two. I've been trying to call them every two minutes. Maybe their radio is down. Got a sitrep from Philips. Nothing yet." Riley felt the knot in his stomach grow. Carter looked at Riley. "What do you think happened to Knutz, chief?" Riley pointed in the direction of the dead DIA men. "Well, that M16 the thing had came from somewhere. I've got a bad feeling it might be Knutz's or T-bone's." In fact, Riley held little doubt that it was, and that Knutz and T-bone were dead. This whole operation had gone to shit in a matter of ten minutes, all because they hadn't been told the truth. Obviously the Synbats had been designed and trained to be more than beasts of burden. Riley's fear for his men equaled his disgust for Colonel Lewis and Doctor Ward, and all they represented. Riley took out the field SOP and quickly decrypted. Obviously Powers had contacted Kate and gotten the requested information.
ZERO TWO XXX
FOB THREE XXX
BIOTECH ENGINEERING WORKING PENTAGON CONTRACT XXX
PROJECT UNKNOWN BUT IN FIELD OF GENETIC ENGINEERING
XXX
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED XXX
WARD SPECIALIST IN GROWTH HORMONES AND GENETIC
ENGINEERING XXX
MERRIT SPECIALIST IN RECOMBINANT DNA XXX
HOSSEY SAYS TO CALL FOR HELP IF NEEDED XXX
HE KNOWS AS MUCH AS I DO XXX
NOTHING MORE XXX
WILL TRY TO FIND OUT MORE XXX
BE CAREFUL XXX
COMPADRE
Too little, too late. Riley hoped that Kate and whoever had passed this information to her had not jeopardized themselves because of it. The fact that Colonel Hossey knew what was in the messages was dangerous for Kate, but Riley wasn't overly worried. Colonel Hossey had been the commander of Special Forces Detachment Korea (DET-K) when Riley had run the Dragon Sim mission into China three years ago. Hossey had stood by Riley's team when everyone else had abandoned them. Riley was willing to trust him now. Riley slumped back in the cargo hatch behind his fifty and thought about what to do next. This whole thing sickened him. He had no doubt that those creatures had been designed by the Pentagon to attack and kill. The way they had returned to this campsite indicated a high degree of tactical sense. They had counterattacked their pursuers at the most vulnerable point and almost succeeded in wiping out everyone who had been left here, at the loss of only one of their own. The use of the M16, the tools, the bag to carry equipment -- all were highly disturbing. Riley felt drained and disappointed. He was well on his way to losing faith in the U.S. government and the military. This was the third time that he had run a classified mission where people had died. And what had been accomplished? The mission into China in 1989 had achieved nothing, as far as Riley could tell from watching the news over the subsequent years. The raids into Colombia had briefly hurt the cartel, but the drug trade seemed to be thriving, and there had been no follow-through on that effort. And now it was damage control for a military experiment
that he didn't think should have been going on in the first place; it was probably illegal and most certainly morally wrong. All these deaths for what? Riley could understand soldiers dying and the necessity to cover it up for security reasons -- albeit poor ones -- but the death of civilians was another matter entirely. He knew what would happen, though. There would be a lot of ass-covering and finger-pointing in classified circles about this incident and then it would be business as usual. He could see the DIA men wrapping up Ward's body. The doctor's death would be very convenient for the others involved. They could all point fingers at a dead man. Riley realized that he was bone tired of this type of operation. He wasn't sure he wanted to play this game anymore. None of that mattered now, though, not with three of the Synbats still loose. The FM radio speaker came alive. "Ranger One, this is Four. Over." Riley grabbed the handset. "This is One." "We've found Ranger Two. Both dead. Their M16s are missing. Over." Riley closed his eyes and leaned back against the rear of the turret. "Bring them to Search Base. Out." He let the handset slip from his fingers. * * * *
3:27 P.M.
In the remaining van, Lewis had finally made contact with General Trollers over the secure SATCOM link. Lewis decided to get all the information out in one fell swoop and let Trollers pick over it. "We've terminated one of the Synbats, sir. Doctor Ward was killed prior to that. I also lost four men. One of the helicopters from Campbell crashed and the pilot and copilot were killed. The crew chief was injured and is in stable condition right now. The Special Forces have lost two of their men." There was a long pause. "What about the other three Synbats?" "I don't know, sir. One of them was here and escaped, so they can't be too far away." "Will you be able to track them down?" Lewis rolled his eyes. The general was talking about looking for three animals in such a vast area that it was the proverbial needle in the haystack, except in this case the needle had the ability to turn around, prick the searcher, and then disappear again. "Sir, the Synbats have weapons now -- at least two M16s that we know of. It's war out here. We need to seal off the park." "I have to run that one by the Old Man." Lewis glanced at the clock on the wall of the van. "Sir, we need immediate help." "I'll get things rolling. Out." Lewis threw down the handset in disgust, bouncing it off the console. * * * *
3:52 P.M.
The bulk of the Union and Confederate forces arrived during the day. More than eight hundred Civil War enthusiasts now crowded the fields to the west of the Wrangler Camp, cleaning gear, feeding horses, and swapping stories. Of the eight hundred, seventy were mounted; the rest would fight as infantry or artillery. The youngest participant was an eight-year-old drummer boy from the 8th New York. The oldest was the honorary ninety-one-year-old commander of the 6th Michigan. In eight minutes they would form under their various battle flags; the blue across the north end of the main pasture and the gray symbolically across the southern end. After the muster, the two groups would spend an evening preparing for the mock battle that would commence the next day. Some units would march out this evening to assume their battle positions. In the midst of blue ranks were Jeremiah and Louis Sattler. They had almost forgotten the events of the previous night, although Louis was a bit worried about Jeremiah's moodiness. But soon the reenactment would begin, and Louis was confident that it would shake his brother out of the funk he'd been in all day. The dim echo of firing off to the east had been heard not too long ago. Louis wondered if firing from the ranges on Fort Campbell on the other side of Lake Barkley could carry this far. He didn't think so, but he couldn't come up with any other explanation for the sound of machine guns. He quickly forgot about it as the order was given to fall in. * * * *
Fort Campbell
_3:56 P.M._ Powers looked at the message one more time, preparing himself for the storm that was to come.
ZERO THREE ODA SIX EIGHT TWO XXX
SITREP XXX
TOTAL THIRTEEN DEAD MILITARY AND CIVILIAN XXX
KNUTZ AND TROY DEAD XXX
MONKEYS ARE GENETICALLY ALTERED CREATURES
CALLED SYNBATS XXX
SYNBATS ARMED AND CAN USE WEAPONS XXX
ONE SYNBAT KILLED THREE STILL LOOSE XXX
NEED HELP XXX
WILL MONITOR FM VOICE ON THREE SIX ZERO ZERO XX
THREE SIX ZERO ZERO XXX
FILL IN GROUP COMMANDER ON SITUATION XXX
AMIGO XXX
Powers couldn't believe what he had just read. He punched in the number for Colonel Hossey's office. The phone was picked up on the first ring.
* * *
*Chapter 13* _Land Between the Lakes_ _4:00 P.M._ Knutz's and T-bone's bodies lay on the backseat of their humvee. Both men were smeared with mud and blood. Knutz's throat had been cleanly cut. T-bone had obviously had the opportunity to put up more of a fight. His face and arms were slashed, in addition to his throat. Knutz's pistol was still in its shoulder holster, indicating that he'd been taken unaware. T-bone's holster was empty. "Knutz was caught underneath his vehicle," Bob Philips explained. "It was stuck in the mud and Top must have gone back there to try and push it out. We had to winch it out to get it off his body. T-bone was lying near the driver's door." Philips handed over a Beretta 9mm. "His pistol was in the mud next to him. No rounds fired." Riley silently took the pistol and stuffed it into his pants cargo pocket. "Both M16s were gone, along with their LBE." "Cover them up," Riley ordered. "Trovinsky, I want you to move that humvee to cover approaches from the east, and man its fifty." "Yes, sir." "Bob, I want you to cover the south." "Roger that, chief." The rain had finally stopped, leaving a damp fog in its place. Riley walked to the van where Lewis was ensconced. He slid open the door without knocking and stepped in. Lewis looked up as he spoke into the phone. His face was haggard. "I'll get back with you in a little bit." He hung up. "Mister Riley, I apologize about everything that has happened. I'm very sorry about the loss of your men." Riley sat down and laid his M16 across his knees. He stared at Lewis for a long minute. The other men in the van were very quiet. Freeman was squirming in the corner, trying not to be noticed, a difficult thing for a man his size. When Riley spoke, all emotion was out of his voice. "Tell me the truth now. What are those things?" Lewis rubbed his eyes. "I really don't know what the Synbats are or what they're capable of." He held up a hand to forestall Riley's outburst. "No. Listen to me. I don't know. Probably the only person still alive who does know is Doctor Merrit, and I've got her on the way out here to brief us. I can tell you what they were _supposed_ to do and how far along Doctor Ward reported they were. But other than that, you know as much as I do. "What I told you earlier was mostly true. The Synbats are genetically altered creatures designed to be soldiers. But not just haulers of gear. They were supposed to be infantrymen. Grunts. Expendable ones. Ones that we could give a weapon to and send out, and not have a public outcry when they got killed. Not only that, they were supposed to be even better than the present infantryman. More aggressive. Stronger. Faster. More adaptable to harsh environments. "It was a long-range project. You've seen what they can do now. In a few years they would have been even better." Riley broke in. "What about the weapons? Where'd they learn to use them?" "At the lab. We sent in some paramilitary folks to work with them. I know that Ward had them out at ranges on Fort Campbell a couple of times." "How'd they control the animals to take them to the ranges?" "Ward drugged them constantly, making them more complacent. We just found that out ourselves. The Synbats went to the range only a couple of times and were at a rudimentary level with the weapons." "What other training have they received?" "That's about it. The initial goal was to simply have them fire a rifle with a certain degree of accuracy." "They've achieved that," Riley acknowledged sarcastically. "Do they know how to reload?" Lewis shrugged. "As far as I know, they can point a weapon and pull a trigger. That's it. If there's more, Merrit can tell you when she gets here." "Why didn't you tell me before about the weapons capability?" "They didn't _have_ weapons until they took them from your men," Lewis answered weakly. "Your men in the van were killed with their own weapons,"
Riley reminded him. "The helicopter was shot at with that MP-5 we found lying outside. You heard the pilot's radio call that the creature was armed." Riley shook his head. Trying to discuss what had already happened was futile. The sound of an incoming helicopter pounded through the walls of the van. "That should be Doctor Merrit now." Lewis stood. "You can find out what else you need to know directly from her." * * * *
Fort Campbell
_4:00 P.M._ The alert for the 5th Special Forces Group started in Colonel Hossey's office. It went to the battalion commanders, who in turn called each company commander. The company commander notified his sergeant major and five team leaders. The team leaders passed the word to the team sergeants. There are three battalions in 5th Group, three companies in each battalion, five teams in each company, plus service and support units: almost a thousand men and women all told. By 4:15 P.M., arms rooms were being opened and humvees were being dispatched. The soldiers of 5th Group were used to alerts, but one on a Friday afternoon that encompassed the entire group was somewhat out of the norm. Alerts were usually called in the early hours of the morning under some strange theory that all crises would happen at 4 A.M. The last time that anyone could remember the entire group being called out was the initial alert for the Persian Gulf crisis. But then, after the alert, it had taken almost a month for the whole group to deploy because of limited aircraft capability. This afternoon, though, was different. The only word coming down the chain of command was for the teams to mount up and be prepared to move out by ground vehicle, locked and loaded. No word of movement to the airstrip or inbound aircraft. Hossey, satisfied that his own unit was getting ready to roll, now moved on to his hardest task. He'd already called the post chief of staff and scheduled a 4:10 P.M. meeting with the post commander. Major General Williams, at the Fort Campbell headquarters. As his driver dropped him off in front of the old World War II-era building, Hossey tried to figure out the best way to present what he had. "Sir, Colonel Hossey reports." Williams was wearing camouflage fatigues and was seated behind his massive desk. "Afternoon, Karl. Have a seat." He waited until the Green Beret colonel was settled. "Now, perhaps you can tell me what the crisis is." As calmly as possible, Hossey started with the dispatch of the team yesterday at the behest of the DIA. Williams nodded when he was done. "All right. But what does that have to do with right now?" Hossey then launched into the sequence of events described by Riley in his messages, concluding with 682's present position in the Land Between the Lakes, the discovery of the downed helicopter, the deaths of Knutz and T-bone, and the fact that three of the creatures were still on the loose. Williams looked at Hossey long and hard. "You expect me to believe this? Killer monkeys running around murdering people?" "Two of those people were my men," Hossey replied. "I believe it." Williams frowned. "But monkeys using weapons?" "Altered monkeys, sir. We don't know what was done to them in that lab. You can verify that the alert from the DIA was phoned in here yesterday morning." Williams drummed his fingers on the desktop as he collected his thoughts. "You realize, of course, that your man has broken security, and that you yourself have broken security by telling me all this?" "Yes, sir." Williams thumbed his intercom. "Mary, get me General Trollers at DIA on the secure line and speaker phone, please." "Yes, sir." They waited fifteen seconds, then the phone buzzed. "4602. This line is unsecure." Williams reached forward and pushed a button on his phone. "Go secure, please." There was a hiss from the other end. "Secure." "This is General Williams calling from Fort Campbell. I need to talk to General Trollers." "Wait one, sir." After almost half a minute a deep voice came on. "Trollers here." "General Trollers, this is General Williams from Fort Campbell. I've got a problem here and I'm going to take care of it with or without your help." * * * *
