Behemoth 2

by Michael Cole

  Rick closed his eyes and felt the cooling sensation of the light breeze that swept over. He looked to the helicopters and focused his mind on the one thing he and Salkil agreed on; the creatures needed to be destroyed.

  “If you’re trying to bring them up that way, forget it,” he said. “You need live bait.”

  “He’s right,” Lisa said. “If you have Zodiacs on this boat, you’ll have to send them out. Otherwise, those things won’t likely come up. They’ve already fed.”

  Their sudden change in attitude caught Salkil by surprise. For a moment, he wondered if they were playing him, but then understood that they were serious. His memory flashed to the encounter three years ago, when three Zodiacs went up against the original escaped hybrid. It was a disaster.

  “Out of the question,” he said. “I can’t have any of my men out there. You know firsthand what’ll happen.”

  “Well, that’s on you then,” Rick said. “The reality is, these things prefer live targets. It’s up to you, but as you’ve stated, time’s running out.” Salkil instinctively checked his watch. He watched the Hueys drop more bait into the water. He grabbed his radio and clicked the transmitter.

  “This is Salkil. Any change in the creatures’ positions?”

  “Negative,” the mercenary responded.

  “Damn it,” Salkil said under his breath. He stood and thought for a moment, then lifted his radio back to his lips. “Raven One, do you have a harness on board?”

  “We do, sir,” Hendricks’ voice came through.

  “Good. Have it prepped and ready to go. I’ll meet you on the landing pad in five.” He turned and walked into the entryway. Rick and Lisa looked at each other, equally confused, and followed him in.

  “Care to tell us what the plan is, Colonel?” Rick said.

  “You said it yourself. Live bait,” Salkil said. “We don’t have time to mess around.” He entered the bridge. “Get me a wetsuit and some thermal gear STAT.” The mercenaries looked at him with uncertainty, but swiftly went to action. There was no time for hesitation.

  CHAPTER

  40

  “How’s it feeling now?” Forster asked Nelson. He limped beside her, using a metal crutch found in the storage room.

  “Same as when you asked five seconds ago…I’m fine,” he jested. His leg throbbed like hell, and the pulsing sensation felt intensified because of the tight bandages. But with the assistance of the crutch, he was able to put some weight on the leg and walk on his own. They walked down the hallway, feeling the breeze from the open hangar doors.

  The breeze grew stronger, as if a strong wind was surging down the hall. Sounds of running feet reverberated through the corridor. Forster and Nelson looked behind as two mercenaries ran down the hallway toward them. They thought of Rick and Lisa heading up to the bridge to confront Salkil. Oh shit, we’re in trouble, aren’t we? Forster thought. Nelson felt something similar. They put their backs to the wall, in surrender in case they were to be detained by the two armed men.

  The mercenaries rushed past them, taking a turn at the end of the corridor. The inflow of wind grew stronger. Forster and Nelson looked to each other and decided to follow. Nelson ignored the pain as he followed Forster. They took a turn which led them to the hangar doors. Bright sunshine and cool ocean air washed over them like a wave. Looking outside the hangar, they saw the Huey resting on the landing pad. The engine still rumbled and the rotors were still spinning, creating a strong downdraft that rebounded from the deck and swept across the ship.

  Standing near the open bay doors was Colonel Salkil. He was dressed in a red jumpsuit, wearing thermal gear underneath. In his hand he held an automatic weapon, freshly loaded, and pointed downward. He slipped on a helmet and tapped on a microphone that protruded toward his mouth. Standing near him were Rick and Lisa. Both held a hand over their eyes to protect against the sting of the downdraft.

  “What, are they friends now?” Nelson asked.

  “Something’s going on,” Forster said. They approached.

  Colonel Salkil handed his weapon to Hendricks, who stood aboard the chopper. The nearby gunner handed Salkil a harness and helped him strap it on.

  “Like I said, keep your eyes on that sonar monitor,” he said to one of the mercenaries. “Don’t even blink. Listen to these guys, they have an idea of how these things operate.” He pointed a finger to Rick and Lisa. The last clip of the harness snapped shut. The gunner climbed back in place at the 50. cal. Hendricks was shaking his head. Salkil looked at him, ignoring the objecting expressions. “Be ready to climb in a hurry. We won’t just be getting away from the sharks.” He looked to the other Huey, maintaining position just outside the rocky barrier. With the click of a switch, its weapons would be armed and ready to fire. That switch would be flicked the moment he entered the water. Hendricks stuffed a cigar in his mouth, then accepted a lighter from the gunner.

  “Sir, permission to speak freely…eh, fuck it…you’re one crazy son-of-a-bitch,” he said. He lit the cigar and released a mouthful of grey tobacco smoke.

  “Maybe I am,” he said. “But unless you have a better idea, let’s get to it.”

  “You’re seriously using yourself as bait?” Lisa said. She was still in disbelief. The Colonel was intentionally having himself lowered into the water, where he would create a sensation to attract the beasts and draw them up. And if successful, he would be at the pilots’ mercy to pull him out in time, not just to avoid getting devoured, but out of the way for Raven Two to unload its missiles at the creatures.

  Salkil accepted the weapon back from Hendricks and chambered a round. “You said so yourself, these things prefer live targets. And we don’t have time to goof around. Who knows, maybe I’ll be eaten.” He attached the cable to his harness and put a finger on his mic. “Alright, let’s act fast. After we kill these things, we need to hurry up and complete the last part of the mission. Then we’ll extract.”

  “Colonel!” Rick shouted over the hum of the blades. “Remember, we need to collect samples of the creatures! We need to confirm the original is dead.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Doc. We’ll have it taken care of,” Salkil said. “Alright, let’s go!”

  The helicopter lifted off the pad, and the rappel tether uncoiled. Salkil grunted as the harness tightened around his waist and chest, and he was lifted up into the air. He looked down at the water beneath his feet. It seemed so calm, aside from the mild swells from the tide. But he knew, beneath that calm was a vicious storm.

  Rick and Lisa watched for a moment as he was carried away. They heard footsteps approaching, and they turned to see Forster and Nelson walking up to them. Both looked back with puzzled expressions. The Chief noticed the portable radio in Rick’s hand.

  “What the hell is going on? You guys kiss and make up?”

  “He’s trying to draw them up,” Rick said. “When they come up after him, the other chopper will rain hell on them.”

  “Ballsy,” Forster said. “So, what’s the other part of the plan he was talking about?” Rick’s expression grew melancholic, which worried Forster. “What’s he going to do?” Rick looked past her toward Nelson.

  “We’re gonna have to evacuate Felt’s Paradise.”

  The Huey glided to the targeted position and stopped. The main pilot turned it around until it was facing toward the Pyramid. Salkil could feel himself gently swinging from side-to-side. The harness dug into him, being most irritating on the insides of his thighs. He shouldered his weapon, pointing the muzzle at the water. He knew it wouldn’t do any good against the sharks, but he didn’t care. He figured if he were to go out, it would be like a bad-ass. Otherwise, he’d literally be nothing more than bait on fishing line.

  He looked ahead at the Corvette, eyes focused on the outside view of the bridge, envisioning everyone in place.

  “Keep your eyes on that monitor,” he said into the mic. “Raven One, take me down.” The descent began with a sudden jolt, as if the helicopter was hit over the top with
a hammer. After that, it was a gradual lowering. Salkil watched the water. The downdraft created an uneven distortion on the surface, almost giving the appearance of sizzling water. He went in feet first.

  “Alright, that’s good!” he said. His timing was perfect, as when the chopper stopped, he was up to his chest. Rippling water splashed his face. He spat out some bitter tasting drops of saltwater. He looked down below him. He could only see down a few feet. The rippling disturbance didn’t help. Essentially, he was blind to anything lurking below. “Any changes in their position?”

  “Negative, sir.” The sonar monitor asked. Another voice blared through the ear piece. It was Rick Napier’s.

  “Colonel, you’ll need to splash around a little more. Gain their attention.”

  “You almost sound hopeful I’ll get eaten,” Salkil joked. He kicked his legs and splashed his weapon over the water. He took his left hand off the barrel grip and slapped it down repeatedly.

  “Targets are moving,” the sonar tech reported.

  “Care to elaborate? For all I know, that means they’re doing the tango.”

  “They’re moving up. They’re moving slow…okay now one’s stopped, but the other is still slowly approaching.”

  “Raven One, this is Napier! Pull up! These things attack with quick bursts of speed. They’ll be on you before you’re clear.”

  “Sir?” the pilot said to Salkil, unsure of what to do. Salkil suddenly felt himself growing nervous, a feeling he rarely experienced.

  “Bring me up,” he said. His demeanor was calm and collected, until he saw the shape emerge beneath him. In the blink of an eye, his brain analyzed that he would not be lifted in time. “Pull forward!” he yelled. Luckily, the pilot didn’t hesitate or question. He pushed forward on the controls, dragging Salkil to the north, just out of the way of the open jaws. The hybrid shot upward, inches past the Colonel. It twisted into a spiral. Its nose bumped against the tail.

  Warning lights flickered throughout the cockpit. Raven One spun out of control. The pilots fought for control, yelling commands over each other. Hendricks fell into a seat while the gunner felt his support straps struggling to keep him in place. Salkil soared against the air as he swung about with each rapid spin of the chopper. He felt the blood draining from his head from the forward momentum. To keep from passing out, he tensed his legs and abdominal muscles to execute the Hick maneuver.

  The pilot yanked up on the stick to keep the Huey from splashing down. He looked through the windshield. The surrounding scenery of blue sky and water passed by in one large blur.

  The Raven Two’s pilots watched the chopper climb while still zipping out of control. It zagged in every direction, then tilted heavily to the left. It leveled out and accelerated uncontrollably right toward them.

  “Shit!” the pilot called out. Raven Two ascended, barely avoiding collision as Raven One passed inches underneath. Raven One zoomed forward for several seconds, and the pilots finally managed to steady the aircraft.

  Salkil managed to work the nausea down after the spinning finally stopped. He felt like an astronaut pilot having gone through centrifuge training. He took a deep inhale through his nose.

  “Status…on targets?” The redistribution of blood in his body made breathing…and talking…difficult. He even had difficulty hearing the radio response, which sounded like a muffle. Salkil pressed the side of his helmet tighter against his ear. “Say again.”

  “Bogies have descended,” the sonar tech repeated.

  “Alright,” Salkil said. “Let’s try again.”

  “Sir, perhaps we can try another…”

  Salkil cut Hendricks off. “We’re trying again. Raven One, commence procedure now.”

  Rick ran through the corridor, listening to the transmissions on his radio. Right behind him were Forster and Lisa, and way behind them was Nelson. The Chief cursed as he struggled to keep up as they made their way to the bridge. Forster looked back at him.

  “Just go on. I’ll catch up,” he said. They need you more than me. After witnessing the near collision in midair, the group decided to hurry to the bridge. Even from the top deck, they could not get any visual of the hybrids under the water and needed to see the sonar images.

  “Colonel, another bit of advice…” Rick said.

  “Spit it out,” Salkil answered.

  “After the chopper lowers you down, have it drag you across the water,” Rick said. “I think only the one came up last time, but if you’re moving, they’ll probably race to come at you.”

  “You really do want to see me eaten, don’t you?”

  Maybe.

  “I’m entering the bridge now,” Rick said, literally passing through the entrance as he spoke. He and Forster stood on both sides of the sonar technician, wedging him out of the way. Rick studied the screen. Two green blobs flashed on the grid. The reading indicated that they were over two dozen meters deep. Rick recalled Salkil’s remark. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you when to pull up.”

  The Colonel’s feet dipped back into the warm Atlantic, and the chopper stopped when he was about waist deep. Next came the dragging sensation as he was pulled against the water.

  “I’ll never look at fishing the same ever again,” he quipped. The chopper dragged him toward the east, while Raven Two kept pace, positioning its rockets on Salkil’s position.

  “Raven One, make sure he’s down to his chest,” Rick said. “They need to hear his heartbeat.”

  “Great,” Salkil said. The chopper dipped slightly, nearly putting the Colonel under completely. He was up to his neck, spitting out mouthfuls of seawater after each swell.

  God, this better work.

  Rick and Forster watched the blips slowly move toward the surface. At the top of the screen was a distortion indicating Salkil’s presence. The blips gradually followed it.

  “Rick, they’re about to move,” Forster said. Rick hesitated, allowing the blips to move closer. He could envision them preparing to make their run. He agreed with Forster.

  He raised his radio, “Raven One, pull up now!”

  The pilot yanked on the joystick. The harness bruised Salkil’s waist and chest as it seemingly tightened around him. The chopper lifted high into the air. In a pained voice, he yelled against the wind. “Raven Two, fire!”

  Raven Two’s co-pilot depressed the trigger. Half a dozen 70mm rockets ignited and soared the short angular distance to the water. “It’s away,” the pilot said.

  The timing was perfect. One of the large cone-shaped heads had just emerged to breach the water where Salkil had been a moment prior. In another instant, it was blanketed in an enormous explosion. It was an immediate confirmed kill for at least one of the creatures. Bits of shell and innards showered the ocean around the ball of flame. Fragments small and large mostly sank into the depths, while some of the more buoyant bits floated along the surface. A twister of smoke lifted into the daylight sky. There was no recognizable carcass to be seen.

  “Boom!” the pilot yelled triumphantly.

  Salkil barely had a glimpse of the beast when the missiles had rained down on it. He was pleased at the spectacular execution. The only problem was the visual was inconclusive as to whether they had destroyed both hybrids.

  “Bridge? Napier? Any more readings?”

  Rick tapped on the screen. The image was fuzzy. The force of the blast seemed to have disrupted the transceiver circuit. Probably one of the reasons the ship was decommissioned, the computer system was out of date. Worse, he couldn’t read any of the instructions to help improve the frequency.

  “Hang on, we’re having technical difficulties,” he said. Whenever the image cleared, it showed multiple objects. Rick shook his head, unable to make sense of them.

  “They’re debris from the missiles and the shark,” Forster said. “I can’t see if the other one’s still alive.”

  “Nor can I,” Rick said. He spoke into the radio. “Colonel, we’re inconclusive.” The mercenary took his place and attemp
ted to check the circuit.

  “Shit,” Salkil said. There was no immediate way to know if they got both of the sharks. He hoped the sonar would function properly. “Hold tight,” he said.

  In Raven Two, the two pilots looked to each other. They were growing impatient, and slightly on edge. The Navy was on approach, and time was dwindling.

  “Sir, we’ll go down for a better visual,” the pilot said. Salkil felt his pulse flare.

  “Raven Two, negative! Hold fast.”

  Ignoring his instructions, the pilots lowered the Huey down to the surface. The landing skids scratched the water, just outside the huge field of carnage. The water was blood red, with entrails and shell floating about. The gunner stuck the M60 out the bay door and scanned the water. Aside from the gruesome visual, the sea had settled until being as calm as a summer breeze.

  “Nothing,” he said. The pilots looked to each other, bearing beer-stained teeth as they grinned ear-to-ear in celebration of their new kill.

  “Sir, I think we can say there’s no more sharks,” the main pilot said. He started his ascent, turning the nose toward the Pyramid.

  A burst of water sprayed the windshield and flooded the main compartment. A set of jaws clamped down on one of the skids. Six thousand pounds of mass pulled the chopper down. The gunner nearly fell backwards, held on only by the safety belt on the mount. He found himself staring right into the eyes of the red shark.