Callsign: Rook - Book 1 (A Stan Tremblay - Chess Team Novella)

by Robinson, Jeremy

  Peder reached for his extended hand. “Thorsen, what has happened?”

  “It’s Greta, she—” His eyes squeezed shut and he couldn’t continue.

  Rook could feel a tentacle of ice start to make its way from the base of his spine upwards. He knew what was coming next. Peder put his other hand on Thorsen’s shoulder. “What is wrong with Greta?”

  The old man’s eyes opened, tired orbs with reddened vessels. “She’s dead.”

  “My friend, how did this happen?”

  Thorsen looked up, but this time his eyes met Rook’s, not Peder’s. “It happened last night. It was the creature.”

  Another townsperson dead. Rook had watched Peder lead Thorsen Ellefsen into the house, and he could tell the two men shared a bond of long friendship. He had given them some time before following them in. Peder explained that Thorsen’s wife, Greta, had been discovered in the bushes behind her house with her throat torn out, just like the two earlier villagers.

  Now, Rook sat in the dark in the barn, waiting for Fossen’s arrival. He smeared grease on his face and planned his strategy for the rest of the night.

  Whatever protection the wolves had offered the town was now out the window. That had never made sense to him anyway, but he’d figured the presence of the wolves meant something. Maybe he’d find out, but for now he would follow the basic plan that Fossen had laid out, with a few minor twists of his own.

  At exactly ten o’clock, the headlights of Fossen’s S Class Mercedes sent narrow rays of light around the edges of the barn door. Rook jumped to his feet and went outside. Peder had done the same, and the three of them sat at the table in Peder’s kitchen. Rook picked up the AR-15 that Fossen had brought.

  “Yeah, this should do just fine. If this doesn’t take him out, I don’t know what will.”

  Fossen smiled. “Agreed. And Stanislav, here is the walkie-talkie. As soon as I get back to the house and check the tracking device, I will let you know where to start.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an object about the size of a U.S. quarter.

  “This is one of the tracking implants. You will need to carry it so I can tell where you are relative to the wolves.”

  Rook was accustomed to taking long distance orders and being monitored, but that was with Deep Blue, someone he trusted implicitly. Blindly following Fossen’s commands went against his instincts.

  “Are you sure you don’t just have a portable monitor I can carry? It’ll make things a lot easier.”

  “My equipment is large because it is old and designed for multiple purposes. But I assure you it will work just fine. I even have an ear-piece you can plug into the walkie-talkie to keep your hands free.”

  Rook took the tracking implant from Fossen. “Okay, it’ll have to do. When you give me instructions, make sure you don’t just tell me where to go. Tell me how close I am to the wolves, what kind of behavior you’re seeing, any natural features you know about where I am. The more I can picture the scene, the better off we’ll be.”

  “Agreed.” Fossen turned to Peder. “I assume you heard about Greta.”

  Peder nodded, eyes weary. “Thorsen came up here and told me himself. Do you still think the wolves can protect us?”

  For just a second, Rook noticed tension in Fossen’s forehead and neck, but when he answered, his voice sounded calm. “No, Peder, I think something has changed. Perhaps the presence of our friend Stanislav here has disrupted things.”

  Rook clenched one fist at his side and didn’t bother masking his irritation. “So it’s my fault?”

  Fossen said, “Of course not. I merely meant that you are what has changed. We are fortunate to have you here to help us.”

  “You don’t have anyone else in town that could do this?”

  “I could do it myself. But let’s be honest. You are a soldier, this is the kind of thing you are training for. Among us, we have plenty of military experience but no one in this town has been on active duty in the past decade. And while hunting has played a key role in our culture for centuries, big game is not something we get the opportunity to confront very often.”

  Rook couldn’t argue with his logic. “Works for me. Are you ready to head back and kick this off?”

  Fossen handed Rook one more item, a headpiece with a powerful lamp in the middle. “This should also help keep your hands free.

  “Thanks.”

  Fossen stood up. “Of course. And now I’ll return. Peder, between Stanislav and myself, we will deal with whatever this is. You have my word.”

  Peder’s weariness didn’t lift when he looked at Fossen. “Eirek, I hope you are right.”

  When Fossen left, Rook asked Peder, “How’s Thorsen taking it?”

  Peder snorted. “How would you take the loss of your wife of fifty-two years? He is angry and sad at the same time. He is wondering…” Peder stopped.

  “Wondering what?”

  Peder shrugged. “It’s not important. You need to get ready.”

  Rook stood, holding the AR-15 as he did. “Yes I do. I have to test out this weapon. Do you have any trees you don’t mind getting reduced to sawdust?”

  “Pick any tree you want.”

  “Peder, don’t worry. I’ve come up against far worse than this. Fossen might be out of his depth, but I’ll take care of your problem.”

  Peder’s nod seemed an afterthought. “Stanislav, Fossen is not nearly as incapable as he makes it seem. There is some threat from this creature beyond the obvious, that’s the only explanation for his actions.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. What could that be, though? An eight foot hominid tearing people and animals apart is bad enough.”

  “When you discover the answer, Stanislav, you might finally be able to kill it. If it does not kill you first.”

  8

  Things started to go to hell at two in the morning. In horror movies, midnight is the most dangerous time, but in Rook’s experience, you could always count on the worst stuff to go down a couple hours later. Right when most people’s energy is at its low point.

  It took until midnight for Rook and Fossen to settle into a rhythm. Via the walkie-talkie, Fossen directed Rook through a flurry of turns, and Rook had to focus to keep a picture in his mind of his current location relative to the town and Peder’s farm. The wolves did not move fast, stopping every few minutes, and Fossen kept Rook a quarter mile away from them and downwind.

  Right at two, as Rook stood waiting for Fossen to tell him the wolves had begun moving again, he sensed something changing. As much of a man of direct action as Rook had always been, he knew from experience to trust his instincts in battle. He bent his knees slightly, getting himself that much more ready for whatever might be coming.

  Fossen’s voice came through the ear piece, excitement clear even through the static. “Stanislav, they are running now, at twenty-five miles an hour.”

  “It’s about time. What direction?”

  “They are running directly toward you.”

  Rook considered his next move. Was the creature chasing the wolves? How far behind them was it?

  He readied the AR-15, and listened. Soon, he could hear a faint rustling sound beyond the background noise of the wind. The sound grew clearer, and while it was not loud, he recognized it as the sound of the wolves running. A moment later, the strong beam of the headlamp picked up first the large black wolf and then the others.

  They continued to run straight at him. Rook looked behind them, trying to see if the creature followed. He saw nothing there, but his peripheral vision picked up the wolves stopping about fifty feet away. He returned his attention to the large black wolf, the pack leader.

  The wolf sniffed the air, then growled while glaring at Rook. Rook grinned at him. I see you remember me. Smart wolf. Move along now and let the big boys play.

  The pack leader let out a howl, not as loud as the one on that first night, but loud enough to drown out all other sound. Then he charged toward Rook, with the other wolves foll
owing.

  Not so smart after all. This time I won’t be messing around with the knife.

  Rook raised the weapon, his finger ready to unleash a fully automatic storm, when suddenly the lead wolf stopped again. Rook held his fire, then became aware of two things.

  One: The wolves were cowering, a couple of them even whimpering.

  Two: A horrible rotting smell filled his nostrils.

  Oh shit, this is not good. Rook put the pieces together in his mind. The wolves had begun to run away, and Rook whirled, leading with the AR-15.

  The barrel of the gun smashed into something, and one of Rook’s feet slipped as he tried to catch his balance. He inhaled the fetid stench, heard a massive roar, and felt the AR-15 pulled from his grip. Then giant fingers wrapped themselves around his rib cage and he flew through the air, landing in the frozen thorns of the undergrowth.

  He got to his feet and saw the monster running, the weapon looking like a toy in its right hand. The wolves had reached the end of the range of his headlamp, but the giant creature looked to be making up ground. Rook almost felt sorry for the wolves.

  He thought, How the hell did it sneak up on me? Ah, that’s right, I was downwind of the wolves, so upwind of him, it makes sense.

  He tapped the headset button. “Hey Fossen, I lost ‘em.”

  “I can see that, Stanislav. What happened?”

  “I got caught, couldn’t smell the creature until it was too late. And he took my gun.”

  Silence greeted the observation, before Fossen said, “That is unfortunate. Perhaps we had better rethink this.”

  Rook began to run while he talked. “Fuck that, I’m going after ‘em. Tell me where they’re headed, just like before.”

  “What about the gun?”

  “I’ll just have to get it back, won’t I?”

  “Stanislav, how do you expect to manage that?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care. First I have to catch ‘em. Am I going the right direction?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Tell me when I need to turn or slow down, Okay?”

  “I cannot let you do this.”

  “I’m doing it with or without you. If I don’t need the tracking chip any more, I’ll put it down and we can come back and get it later. Otherwise, tell me where to go next. I can still smell it, so that tells me I’m going the right way.”

  “Fine, Stanislav, do not blame me if you get yourself killed.”

  “If I get killed, I promise you won’t hear a word from me.”

  “The wolves are slowing. I am not sure what it means.”

  “How far away are they?”

  “About half a mile.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Rook picked up his pace. Running wasn’t his favorite activity, but with his training he could go quite a way if he paid careful attention to his effort. Right now, he needed to close the gap.

  A few minutes later, Fossen announced that Rook was back to four hundred yards away. The wolves were once again ambling around at low speed. Rook could still smell the creature, and he wondered where it had gone.

  He turned off his light. He had no idea what kind of senses the creature had, but he figured no reason to make it any easier. The moon provided enough light for him to make his way over the rough ground safely. Three minutes later, he stopped, surprised. The wolves were right in front of him.

  He tapped the headset and whispered. “Hey Fossen, why didn’t you warn me to stop? They’re right here!”

  He received no response. After a minute, he swore to himself. Goddamned Fossen, what’s he up to now?

  Rook figured that after initially winding his way uphill away from both the town and the ocean, he was now descending toward town again. This time, he was coming from the other side of the small ridge at the end of the narrow peninsula where the town lay, and he had not yet seen this area.

  The wolves still didn’t move. They sat in a circle, snouts pointed to the sky, making no sounds that Rook could hear. The stench of the creature remained, but Rook couldn’t tell if it indicated a current presence or a prior one. His nostrils had developed a certain amount of tolerance for the horrific odor, which made it more difficult to determine the proximity of the source. He felt exposed, cut off from Fossen’s input, unsure if a huge and now armed hominid waited in the surrounding darkness. He had to do something to get back the initiative.

  He considered what had happened earlier. The giant hands had tossed him aside, but hadn’t done much damage. If the monster had wanted him dead, he’d be dead. Also, it had taken the gun, a deliberate action that showed some of the intelligence Rook had suspected in his first encounter with it the previous evening.

  So what the hell is it up to? Maybe…something with the wolves?

  Rook nodded to himself, an idea forming. He knew what he needed to do. If he was right, his action would bring about swift—and possibly fatal—consequences, but that was better than standing here waiting. He switched his light back on. Then in one motion, he pulled out his Desert Eagle and took aim at the large black wolf fifty yards away.

  As he expected, a roar erupted from the bushes, and even as he fired, he jumped to the right, away from it. His bullet flew a few inches above the wolf’s head, exactly as intended. He stowed the pistol in its holster, knowing it would do nothing for him now. Then he turned so the headlamp picked up the creature.

  It flew past the spot where Rook had stood a moment earlier, but it kept its gaze right on Rook. There was no mistaking the intent conveyed by its round yellow eyes. Rook knew he had to stay out of its grasp long enough to get the angle he needed, at least if he considered it a priority to keep his arms and legs attached to his torso.

  He ran for a tree he’d seen in the headlamp earlier. The trees around here were sparse, and those that managed to grow mostly stood no higher than ten feet. This one was taller, and appeared to have a few branches large enough to support Rook’s weight.

  He could hear the roar and feel the ground shaking from the footsteps behind him. As he jumped onto a branch about four feet off the ground, he felt something strike his shoulder, knocking him off balance. He managed to get both hands onto a branch above his head, and allowed his body to swing forward until his legs were flying over his head. For a split second, he felt like a gymnast delivering the winning routine—until he crashed down onto the branch and had to hold on tight to keep from falling. Guess I didn’t stick the landing, he thought.

  Ten feet below, the creature still roared, and Rook quickly moved up to a branch three feet higher. Now he was out of range of even those long arms. He steadied his breathing and pulled out the Desert Eagle. The gun had proven ineffective the previous evening, but everything had vulnerable spots.

  He felt the tree shake and grabbed the trunk with his free hand to steady himself. The monster had wrapped his massive arms around the base of the tree and was straining with the effort. Rook didn’t wait any longer to yell toward the ground.

  “Hey, ape man. Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  The creature looked up, fury evident in the glare of the headlamp. Rook fired three shots from the Desert Eagle at its eye socket.

  All three shots hit, and Rook felt the yeti’s roar reverberate. It let go of the tree and grabbed its head with both hands. Rook couldn’t tell whether he’d penetrated the brain, but he’d know soon enough.

  The creature stumbled away and dropped to its knees. Rook leapt from the tree, Desert Eagle still in his right hand. He didn’t waste ammunition firing at the hobbled figure, but he kept his weight on the balls of his feet, shifting from one foot to the other. The creature jumped to its feet a moment later.

  Rook thought, Well, I guess I didn’t hit the brain.

  The creature charged. Rook unloaded with the Desert Eagle at its legs, but it didn’t slow down. He prepared both for impact and to leap sideways to minimize it.

  Then an explosive shot rang out. The yeti’s hand went down to its left leg and it whirled to
the right. Rook’s headlamp followed and he saw a sight that did not entirely surprise him: Eirek Fossen holding an AR-15.

  The creature ran at Fossen. Even with the pronounced limp from Fossen’s shot, it covered ground faster than Rook could have. To his credit, Fossen seemed prepared for it, and dove out of the way. A wide swipe of the creature’s paw missed the Norwegian by inches, but the AR-15 flew out of Fossen’s hands. Rook launched himself at the weapon, hoping he wasn’t too late.

  Rook rolled and grabbed it in one motion, ending up on his feet. He fired a dozen rounds at the creature, which had changed directions and was nearly upon Fossen. The yeti roared, but the impact of the shots knocked it to the ground, away from Fossen.

  The creature kept rolling after falling, and suddenly it disappeared from the beam of Rook’s headlamp. He ran toward the last spot where he had seen it and had to stop before he went over a steep embankment. Looking down, the creature continued to roll, now thirty feet away. Rook fired a few more shots, but he doubted he had hit it.

  He started down the slope. Remaining upright proved difficult, as it was nearly a cliff. He established a rhythm, but he knew he couldn’t keep up with something hurtling out of control toward the bottom.

  When the ground flattened out, he stopped and scanned the area, but saw no sign of the creature. No bloodstains, no trampled vegetation, nothing. He cursed to himself. Fucking impossible. The bastard is here somewhere. Several minutes of exploration turned up no additional evidence. The thing had vanished.

  Rook’s mood became fouler as he worked his way back up the embankment. Twice now, he’d failed to kill it. This time they’d had it in their sights, and a dozen bullets hadn’t been enough. As he came over the top, Fossen was peering over the edge. Rook put his palm into the Norwegian’s chest, pushing him back.

  “Why the hell didn’t you stay with the radio?”

  Fossen seemed surprised, and stumbled backwards. “Once you lost your weapon, I figured you needed backup more than you needed me telling you where to go.”