Behemoth (Apex Predator Book 1)

by David Meyer

“How’d …?” Her eyes bugged out. “Tony told you?”

  Caplan didn’t respond.

  She stared into his eyes for a long moment. “Yes, he took them to 48A. But that wasn’t the end of it. James had plans for our creations. He used them to create something evil.”

  “What?”

  “A killing ground.”

  Chapter 40

  Date: Unknown; Location: Unknown

  With a pathetic whimper, Brian Toland flopped face first onto the ground. He slid across a patch of mud, scraping his belly against tiny pebbles and twigs. When he came to a stop, he didn’t bother rising to his feet. Instead, he just lay there, spread-eagled.

  Mills whirled around in mid-step. Her lips curled in anger as she laid eyes upon the older man. She was tempted to keep going, to leave him behind. It would serve him right for all his snippy comments.

  But she retraced her steps anyway. After Renjel’s untimely death, she, Elliott, and Toland had hightailed it down the hillside. They’d proceeded to cut through the forest, utilizing brief sprints interspersed with fast walks. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been running and walking. But it felt like hours.

  She ground to a halt a few inches from Toland’s head. A burning sensation appeared at the tips of her bruised toes. It extended down the soles of her stinging bare feet. It reached up her calves, her thighs. And it didn’t stop there. Within seconds, her whole body felt like it was on fire. Was this what athletes meant by feeling the burn? If so, she didn’t want to feel it. Not ever again.

  Elliott appeared, sliding between two tree trunks and pacing to Mills’ side. Thick mud covered her sweatshirt and jeans. More mud was smeared across her face, her neck, her head. All told, she looked more like a walking swamp than a person.

  Breathing heavily, Elliott wiped a muddy hand across her muddy face, with predictable results. “Man up, Brian.” Her free hand clutched her waist in a firm grip. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “Screw you.” Toland rolled onto his back. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he still managed a look of complete disdain. “I’d like to see you run this much when you’re my age.”

  “If we don’t keep running, I might not reach your age.”

  “Quiet.” Mills tilted an ear to the forest and listened hard. “I don’t hear anything. Maybe we’re okay.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Elliott retorted. “We didn’t hear that saber until it … you know.”

  Mills knew. She knew it well. One moment, she was staring at Renjel, nursing ridiculous fantasies about romance in the wild. The next, she was watching that saber tear apart his organs.

  Her shoulders quivered and tears splashed down her cheeks. Quickly, she turned away, coughing to cover up the faint sobs emanating from her throat.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Toland asked.

  “Just … just got something in my throat,” she managed between sobs.

  He snorted.

  This was stupid, so stupid. Randi Skolnick had died. Now, Renjel—the closest thing she had to a friend in this sad group—had followed the woman to an early grave. On top of all that, she was exhausted, hungry, and scared witless by her surroundings. In short, she had every reason in the world to cry. So, why was she so afraid of showing it?

  The thought distracted her long enough for her eye faucets to slow to mere trickles. She recalled many other times—break-ups, betrayals, and nasty rumors about her personal life—when she’d hid her emotions. And she realized something as she stood there in that strange and ancient forest. She wasn’t allowed to have negative emotions. Not without serious repercussions anyway.

  After all, she was Bailey Mills! The rich and beautiful party girl with the perfect life. She could buy anything, go anywhere, date anyone. She didn’t have to worry about the glass ceiling or whether or not she could pay her rent on time. No, her problems were strictly of the first-world variety. Heck, they weren’t even that important.

  One particular memory from 2013 came to mind. During an interview, she’d expressed annoyance that her one-of-a-kind convertible, which had set her back nearly a million dollars, had been sidelined with engine issues. Within minutes, social media users were on the warpath. They raked her over the coals, calling her a spoiled brat who didn’t appreciate the silver spoon from which she’d been fed. Internet memes popped up, contrasting her situation with that of the billions of people who couldn’t even afford a car.

  The worst part was that she agreed with them. She was, indeed, a rich bitch. Plagued with guilt, she made a series of public apologies and hit up the charity circuit with renewed vigor. Afterward, she did her best to appreciate the magnificent life she’d been given. Even so, she still felt occasional sadness, annoyance, and discontentment. She did everything in her power to keep those feelings to herself. It wasn’t easy, especially since she lived much of her life in the public sphere. But she soon learned to control those negative emotions, to lock them away in the pit of her soul.

  Now, all that stored negativity came flooding out of her in a deluge of fury. She was a human being, damn it! She felt the same emotions—good and bad—as anyone else. But noooo. The public and media didn’t see it that way. How dare she complain about a busted engine! How dare she show anything other than gratefulness every second of her life!

  Well, no more. She was going to be herself—whoever that was—whether people liked it or not.

  “I’m crying.” Spinning around, she looked Toland straight in the eyes. “Got a problem with that?”

  He blinked, momentarily stunned by her forceful response.

  Elliott arched an eyebrow at Mills. A faint smile creased her visage. Then she knelt down and helped Toland to a sitting position. “I know you’re tired,” she said in a voice laced with venom. “But we need to keep going.”

  Toland rested for a moment. Then he stood up and stretched his muscles. “I’m not taking another step,” he said, recovering his bravado. “Not until we stop acting like morons and start using our brains.”

  “But—”

  “Wait.” Mills held up a hand. “I hate to admit it, but Brian’s right. I’m almost positive the saber that killed Travis was the same one that attacked Randi. It’s stalking us. If we keep running, it’ll just keep coming.”

  Elliott exhaled softly. “So, what do we do?”

  “We’ve been running blind, taking the path of least resistance. I think we have to reset, focus on a specific destination.”

  “You mean the smoke?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Yes.” Toland clapped his hands together. “I’m glad to see that one of you is finally showing a bit of sense.”

  “Shut up, Brian.” Mills turned in an arc. “Okay, I think I see it. Over there. There must be a camp nearby.”

  “A camp?” Toland shot Mills a crafty look. “I’m confused. I thought you said we were lost in time. Sent back to the ancient days by forces beyond our control.”

  Mills sighed. “It was just a theory.”

  “An incredibly stupid one.”

  “Do you ever stop talking?”

  “Oh, that’s real—”

  “What if it’s not a campfire?” Elliott asked, interrupting the argument. “What if it’s a forest fire?”

  “Yeah.” Toland smirked at Mills. “What then?”

  “Then we’ll burn to a crisp.” Mills started forward, stepping carefully so as to avoid some wet pine cones. “Look on the bright side. At least the saber won’t enjoy its meal.”

  “Eww,” Elliott replied.

  The trio strode forward with Mills in the middle and Toland and Elliott at her flanks. The temperature warmed and before long, beads of sweat began to roll down Mills’ face, washing the mud streaks away.

  Flames crackled softly in the distance. Rainwater dripped from the trees, splashing against the wet ground. But other than that, the forest was eerily quiet. More than once, Mills turned her head around, checking their rear. Although she didn’t see the saber,
she knew it was out there somewhere.

  “I see flames.” Toland huffed and puffed his way over a small hill. “Lots of them.”

  “Agreed.” Elliott slowed her pace a bit.

  Mills didn’t break speed. Instead, she continued to march forward, all the while keeping an eye out for the saber. Thirty seconds later, she pulled to a stop. Her heart pounded ferociously against her chest.

  Just ahead, she saw a clearing and a long barn-like building, painted camouflage-style. Flames, a striking mixture of orange and red, engulfed one end of the building. Gray smoke rose above the flames, curling into the dark sky. A fence, constructed from tall metal posts sunk into large concrete blocks, surrounded the area.

  “Well, there you go,” Toland said, triumphantly. “What do you think of your time travel theory now?”

  Mills ignored him.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked. “I said—”

  Mills lifted a finger to her lips and shushed him.

  Toland arched an eyebrow. But he kept quiet.

  “What’s wrong?” Elliott whispered.

  “That’s an electric fence, probably designed to keep out animals,” Mills replied. “Only the electricity isn’t working.”

  “And that’s important?”

  “See how that post has been ripped out of its concrete block?” She waved her hand at the fence. “I think something took advantage of the power outage. And for all we know, it’s still in the area.”

  Elliott bit her lip. “Another saber?”

  “No. Something bigger. A lot bigger.” Twisting her hips, Mills hiked alongside the fence. The mud-soaked needles acted as a carpet, cushioning her bare feet and allowing her to stay quiet.

  She walked to the opposite side of the clearing. She could see the fire clearly now. It slowly chewed away at the building, working its way along the wall and deeper into the seemingly hollow interior. She shifted her gaze to a large concrete block. A jagged hole indicated where its metal post had once stood.

  She looked at the fallen post. It lay inside the fence’s perimeter, partially embedded in the soil, and still attached to surrounding posts via wires. Clearly, a powerful force had smashed into it, ripping it out of its concrete casing. The impact drove the post into the soil, taking the wires with it.

  Moving forward, she studied the ground inside the fence and saw big, cabbage-shaped footprints going in either direction. She knew nothing about animal footprints. But they looked large enough to belong to one of the woolly mammoths.

  A few tears sprung up in her eyes again. She remembered standing next to Renjel as they watched the group of mammoths tear into each other. She missed him, missed his strength.

  She took a deep breath, allowing herself a few seconds to grieve. Then she reassessed the situation. The tracks indicated that whatever had knocked the post down had already left the area. And she didn’t see any other tracks in the vicinity. So, she slid past the concrete block, stepped carefully over the wires, and made her way to the burning building.

  “Wait,” Elliott whispered loudly from just outside the fence. “We need to think about this.”

  Mills retreated to the concrete block. “What’s there to think about? I don’t see any animals. And there could be people in there. Plus, food and water. Maybe even a way to get help.”

  “What about the fire?” Toland frowned. “Sure, it looks contained. But any minute now, that whole place could go up in flames.”

  “All the more reason to hurry.” Mills’ eyes bored into his like drills. “That place is our best shot at survival. You know it, I know it. So, be quiet for once and help me save it before it’s too late.”

  Spinning around, Mills hightailed it across the close-cut grass. The temperature jumped a few notches and she tasted cinders on her tongue. Trails of smoke curled into her nose, nearly sending her into a coughing fit.

  She turned, adjusting course. In the process, she noticed several charred objects—bodies, from the looks of it—amongst the flames and smoke. Fury engulfed her heart. She’d finally stumbled upon a modicum of civilization, only to have it burn before her eyes.

  Skirting around the fire, she raced parallel to the building, eventually reaching a small door. She paused for a moment to touch the smooth metal. It felt cool. Turning the knob, she thrust the door open and hurried into the structure.

  A mind-numbing wave of heat washed over her. She swooned, but still managed to maintain consciousness. Ducking beneath the smoke, she noticed the interior was hollowed out just like a barn. But there were no haystacks, stalls, or tools. Instead, machines of all shapes and sizes covered the vinyl flooring.

  She stared at the machines in awe, feeling a little like a visitor to some far-off alien world. Style, fashion, drinking, parties … those were her strong suits. But this … this warehouse of strange machines … well, it was way beyond her comprehension. What is this place? she wondered. Why is it here?

  A machine, engulfed in flames, exploded into a million pieces. The noise deafened Mills and an accompanying shockwave sent her to the floor. She landed hard, hammering her nose against the surface.

  Elliott grabbed Mills’ arm, pulled her to her feet. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Mills rubbed her nose and turned to look at the fire. The flames were longer now. Hotter, too. It felt like her core temperature was about to go through the roof. “Help me find the fire extinguishers.”

  She nodded at the far wall. “Over there.”

  Swiveling her neck, Mills saw red extinguishers mounted on the wall. She grabbed one and fiddled with it, causing a white stream of foam to shoot onto the floor. Satisfied, she stumbled toward the fire and began to douse the nearest flames with chemical foam.

  Elliott joined her and together, they attacked the fire. The flames fought back, showering them with sparks.

  Extinguisher in hand, Toland raced into the fray. With his help, they turned the tide. Inch by inch, they advanced through the structure, covering the machines and walls with thick layers of chemical foam. In the process, Mills saw numerous corpses, burnt to a crisp.

  Despite that, she felt a bit of hope inside her chest. Maybe they could do this after all. Maybe they could save the building and patch up the fire-damaged wall. Maybe they could even fix the fence and figure out a way to restore the power. Sure, they’d have to bury the bodies. And they’d have to figure out how to procure supplies. But at least they’d be safe. At least they could live here for a spell while they figured out their next move.

  She lingered for a few seconds, directing extra spray at some particularly stubborn flames. When they’d finally blinked out, she took a closer look to see what had fueled them.

  A pile of charred logbooks lay smoldering in a neat pile. She brushed the bottom edge of the extinguisher against the pile, reducing it to ash. Sweeping aside the debris, she focused her attention on a slab of smooth metal, with hinges and a handle on opposing sides.

  She returned to the fire and within a few minutes, the last of the flames had been turned into smoke. Elliott added a few extra squirts of her extinguisher for good measure.

  “That wasn’t the worst effort I’ve ever seen,” Toland said. “But next time, the two of you should …”

  Blocking out his voice, Mills hiked back to the metal slab. It was square-shaped, measuring about three feet on each side. A tiny monitor, black as night, had been sunk into the metal.

  Elliott appeared and knelt next to the slab. “What do you make of it?” she asked Mills.

  “It looks like …” Mills paused, searching for the right word. “… a hatch.”

  “Where’s it lead?”

  “How should I know?”

  “What the hell is wrong with you two?” Toland asked angrily. “Here I am offering a little advice and—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Mills said, dismissively, her gaze locked on the hatch. “Whatever you say, Brian.”

  Grunting in displeasure, Toland hiked across the floor. But his anger melted away
when he saw the hatch. “Open it,” he said, his tone full of undeserved authority.

  Mills glared at him. Of course, she was going to open the stupid hatch. Not because he told her to, but because it was the obvious move. She nearly said something to that effect, but ultimately decided against it. Toland wouldn’t have believed her anyway.

  She gripped the handle with both hands. Straining, she lifted the hatch a few inches. Elliott joined her and together, they pulled it all the way open. A shaft and metal ladder appeared. Mills squinted into the bowels of the shaft, but it was too dark to see anything.

  “What are you waiting for?” Toland asked. “Get down there.”

  “But you’re a man.” Mills gave him a sweet, innocent look. “Shouldn’t you go first?”

  “And violate one of the core tenets of feminism? I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye out for that saber.”

  Shaking her head, Mills sat down. She kicked her legs into the shaft and felt around for the rungs. They were warm against her bare feet.

  She found her footing. Then she twisted around. Grabbed onto the top rung. Took a deep breath.

  And descended into the darkness.

  Chapter 41

  Date: June 19, 2016, 4:57 p.m.; Location: Hatcher Station, Vallerio Forest, NH

  “A killing ground?” Caplan shook his head. “Why would James need something like that?”

  “He doesn’t need it.” Morgan sagged a little deeper into her chair. “He wants it.”

  “James isn’t a killer.” But even as he spoke, Caplan questioned his words. How well, after all, did he really know Corbotch?

  “He might not be doing the actual killing, but he’s responsible all the same. You see, there’s a certain clearing in 48A favored by 1-Gen saber-toothed cats. It, along with the surrounding area, is monitored by closed-circuit video cameras. The feeds are hidden and well-secured, but accessible from Hatcher’s private network. Bonnie and Zlata …” Her eyes turned misty. “… managed to hack them.”

  “And?”

  “Every now and then, James’ private helicopter would fly to the clearing. It hovered a few feet above ground and a couple of people—almost certainly drugged—were dumped overboard. The cats prefer to stalk their prey. So, they always kept their distance until the helicopter flew away and the people woke up. Then the hunt would begin.”