Ross regarded her sharply. "You're not thinking of.?"
"Hell no! Not me!" Debbi retorted quickly. "We're going to use a Stallion and a rigged geo-pinger."
"What?"
"Think about it. We'll set the pinger on the ground. It'll be attached by a cable to a Stallion. The pinger will give off vibrations and attract the thing. Once the monster grabs it, the Hoss will pull it out of the ground so our boys can have a go at it. It's perfect."
"It's not perfect. There's too many unknowns. We've only seen a few tentacles from this thing. Who knows how big this monster really is. We don't know if the Hoss has enough horsepower for the job. We don't even know if it'll go after the pinger. That equipment is pretty big. Maybe it has a small stomach."
"Not the way that thing has been eating."
"It's also dangerous as hell," Ross said finally. He was feeling flushed again and he wasn't sure if it was the fever Doc claimed he had or a result of the sunburn. He fought down rising nausea.
"Yeah, well, there is that. But that's what being a Colonial Ranger is all about." Debbi refrained from winking along with that load of propaganda.
"Who's driving the Hoss?" But Ross knew the answer already.
"I am."
"Damn it, Dallas!" He half rose off the bed and then hissed when a sharp stab of pain struck his chest. His arm immediately dropped to support his ribs. He swallowed and took a few shallow breaths before continuing. "You've been through enough already. Let Stew handle it. He's a better pilot."
She considered him defensively. "What's with the wet blanket routine all of a sudden? Doc declared me fit. Besides, this job doesn't call for fancy flying. I'd rather have Stew watching my back. He's a hell of lot better shot with a rocket launcher. We're talking close range and within city limits. I want that missile fired as accurately as possible. And all we need on the ship is a competent flier, not some hotdog."
The bottom line was Debbi wasn't willing to send anyone to do a dangerous job that she wouldn't handle herself. Ross knew damn well that Stew's fighter-type flying skills were too valuable to take a chance of losing him on a grunt job-after all, you don't need a race car driver in a pickup to yank a stump out of the ground.
Ross scowled at her, but he couldn't fault her logic. Damn it. If he hadn't been so distracted in jumping to protect her, he'd have come to the same conclusion. She was making rational judgments, unlike him. And whether he liked them or not, he respected her for it. He lay back down and tried to concentrate on controlling his pain, the only thing he seemed capable of at the moment. He rolled his head to look at her.
"We're running out of Stallions, Dallas. Don't lose another one."
"I won't." She met his eyes. A moment of silence stretched between them.
The exhaustion she saw in his face, highlighted by the darkness around his eyes, made her ache. She wasn't used to seeing Ross like this. Just how close a call it had been at the Red River engulfed her again in a rush. She thought of life in Temptation without his presence and she didn't like it at all.
The door suddenly opened and Doc Dazy walked in, holding up a new IV bag. "Time to change the oil." He asked Debbi. "Has he been behaving?"
Ross stared angrily at the man. "Go away or I'll shoot you."
Dazy snorted boldly. "That will be hard to do without any bullets." He reached up to swap the medication.
Ross's cold glare immediately swung on Debbi who tucked her lip under her teeth and glanced away innocently. Thankfully, her comlink crackled and Cass's voice spewed through her headset.
"Debbi, a Ranger from New Hope just strolled in. He has some interesting news from that part of the country."
"On my way. Dallas out." She rose from the chair.
Ross hadn't taken his eyes off her, but now his irritation had switched to curiosity. "What's up?"
"A Ranger from New Hope is here."
"Reuben Olivares? He's not a man to leave his post. What happened?"
His eyes were blinking owlishly as the medication kicked in.
"Don't know. I'll see you later." Debbi headed for the door.
"Get me a comlink, Dallas," Ross said. "I want to be kept informed."
"You will not," yelled Doc Dazy. "He's supposed to be resting, not working."
"Dallas, that's an order!" Ross grunted and arched forward as his ribs issued more warning signs. He panted angrily, directing daggers at the Doctor, fighting the heavy drag of his eyelids.
Debbi waved over her shoulder. "Don't worry, Ross. I'll bring it just as soon as I bring you some bullets."
"Dallas," Ross warned in a voice half his normal bellow. Then as she left the room, she heard his final complaint.
"Damn it, Doc, keep that thing away from me!"
Dallas entered headquarters to find a weary, bedraggled Ranger sitting in the office. Miller and a bunch of the others were gathered around him with awestruck expressions. Reuben Olivares was a tall man, graying at the temples and a hard weathered face to go with it. He was from the old school and his numerous years as a Ranger were evidence of his tenacity. He rose when Debbi walked into the room.
"You must be Dallas." He offered her a hand. "Heard from Stew here that you were in charge."
Debbi glanced quickly at Stew who smiled. No one had officially assumed charge after Ross's incarceration at the infirmary. Both she and Stew had been handling the emergencies jointly. She scanned the other Rangers for reactions to this news, but there were no signs of animosity.
She grasped the waiting Ranger's outstretched hand. "Reuben Olivares?"
He grinned, wide and endearing. "Yes, ma'am. Out of New Hope."
New Hope wasn't much of a town, more a pit stop for caravans. It was located near extensive salt flats and that valuable commodity kept the small town in good business.
"What brings you to Temptation?" Debbi indicated he should resume his seat while she circled the desk and took a chair behind it.
"Momentary lapse of sanity most likely," Miller interjected. "Guess news of our troubles hasn't hit New Hope yet. Only fools come here now. What with the zombies and monsters and all."
Debbi shot Miller a cold glare and then motioned to Olivares to continue. "You were saying."
Cass slipped through the crowd of young Rangers and handed Olivares an amber glass poured from the office bottle. "Reuben, have a shot of this. It's good for what ails you."
"Thanks, Cass. Appreciate it." Olivares tipped his glass and took a long swallow. He turned to Debbi. His mouth drew to a tight line. "Reapers are why I'm here. They showed up outside the gate at New Hope offering peace and good will." His sarcasm practically dripped.
"Those bastards have looted New Hope now?" Miller scrutinized Olivares. "You look pretty good for someone who took on a load of Reapers."
Debbi thought Olivares seemed burdened by shame and sadness. He took a tired breath and suddenly looked old rather than experienced. It was sickening to watch the strength slip out of him. She wasn't sure if any of the other Rangers noticed it because it only lasted a split second.
Olivares iced Miller from under a down-turned brow. "Well, I'll tell ya, son, you're right. I didn't get to take on the Reapers at New Hope. But when the day comes I'm facing hopeless odds against a whole army of those blacklining, bloodthirsty bastards, I sure hope you're right there with me."
The older Ranger addressed Debbi. "The mayor made the decision to join this ridiculous Banshee Free State. Stupid son of a bitch. He gave me two hours to clear out before he let the Reaper scum in. I packed it in. I know when my ass is beat."
Debbi nodded. "Well, we're grateful to have you here, and I hope you'll stay till you get reassigned."
"Thanks." Olivares appreciated Debbi's simple absolution; Ross always had good people with him. Still it didn't calm the bitterness he felt. Twenty years on the job and he gets kicked out of his own town. No fight. No discussion. Just get out. And for the people of New Hope to choose the Reapers over him made him sick to his stomach. Twenty years fighti
ng those monsters and they just open the gates and let them in while he slips out the back like a criminal.
He realized the young female Ranger was looking at him. He quickly said, "By the way, how's Ross? I hear he's laid up."
"Yeah, he's at the infirmary. He's in pretty rough shape. Falling off a cliff will do that to you. Must be doing better though; he keeps trying to escape."
"Wouldn't be Ross if he didn't try," Olivares said.
"You know him well?" Stew asked.
"Yeah, me and Ross've been through it a time or two." The crevices alongside his dark eyes deepened with good memories.
"Feel free to visit him," Debbi coaxed. "Distract him, if you know what I mean."
"Don't want him underfoot, eh?"
"Not till he's less cranky."
Olivares laughed a little too loudly. "That's a tall order. I'll do what I can then."
"Appreciate it." Debbi turned to Tsukino who was to her left. "I need you to go out to the Lupinz Sanitarium. Find out if they're missing any of their patients. Those inmates that attacked Ross and me came from somewhere."
Tsukino straightened off the wall. He departed silently as was his way.
Debbi stood and addressed the others. "Miller, you and Ringo go get a geo-pinger from Donald Fairchild. Barter, steal, I don't care how you do it. The rest of you know your assignments. Arm up and let's go to work." As the room broke up, she glanced at Stew. "Get what you need from the armory."
"Ross approved the plan then?"
Debbi put on her best innocent face. "Let's just say, he couldn't come up with anything better."
"Sounds like we're on then. Do or die." He turned quietly and departed out the door, his footsteps echoing down the boardwalk.
Debbi eyed his cryptic passing and then shook her head. She realized that Olivares was still in the office with her.
"Something up?" he asked.
Debbi appraised him with a wicked glint. "How are you at fishing?"
Olivares looked wary.
Debbi crooked a finger at him. "Come with me."
Chapter 23
Downtown Temptation was quiet. Debbi had seen to that. All businesses were closed. Residents in the area had been sent elsewhere. It was late afternoon and the town square was shut down for a very important reason.
The Colonial Rangers were going fishing.
Under the watchful eye of a half a dozen Rangers perched on rooftops around the square, Miller and Ringo quietly tiptoed away from the geo-pinger. Their eyes scanned the ground carefully for shifting dirt or an unexpected swell. They wiped the sweat from their eyes and let out a relieved sigh as soon as they climbed onto a rooftop.
Ringo fingered his mike. "It's done, Dallas." He paused a moment to catch his breath. "The pingers set and the cable is attached."
Debbi leaned back in the Stallion's pilot seat and checked the restraints, then hit the comlink. "Stew, you ready?"
Stew's voice came low in her ear. "Ready."
"Okay, then, let's do it. Ringo, set it off." Flicking down her shades against the sinking sun, Debbi started the engine on the Stallion and eased her up into the air, keeping some slack in the cable.
The geo-pinger was a large piece of equipment, more industrial than the portable models used by small-time prospectors. It had to be powerful to entice the worhul away from its usual food source—terrified humans. From the air, Debbi could see a light blinking on the pinger each time it sent a pulse into the ground. She knew that all the other Rangers on the ground could feel it. It was a deep, throbbing beat that pounded in your chest, and it could resonate for miles.
She had no doubt that the worhul could sense it too. The question was, would it take the bait? They had smeared the pinger with pig's blood in the hope that it would smell more appetizing, if the worhul could even smell. They also welded large hooks to the machine's sides so the creature would impale itself when it struck and be held fast until Debbi could draw it up.
She spun the ship in a slow circle, scanning the area. She had the best vantage point, but this thing never betrayed its presence until the last second.
Debbi could see where the militia had cordoned off the area. She had declared a curfew to deprive the beast of food and make it hungry. This time, the curfew had been easy to enforce. Most everyone was willing to stay at home. The worhul had attacked numerous times in plain sight over the last few days. People were more inclined to believe a dangerous situation existed if folks were being sucked underground in broad daylight. A segment of the population had been in hiding since the coming of the zombies anyway.
"Heads up, Dallas!" Stew's voice shouted in her ear. She could plainly hear the tension in his tone.
"Your bobber's movin'!" Miller shouted right after. "It's takin' the bait!"
Debbi took up a bit of slack with the winch controls and then tightened her hand on the stick. When the beast took the pinger, the ship was going to rock.
"Holee Mother of Pearl!" someone shouted in her ear, loud enough to make her wince. That was all she had time for as the Stallion took a sudden lurch. Her restraints prevented her from flying against the dash. She applied a bit more throttle to keep the nose up. The winch screamed beneath her as the cable played out in a rush. The behemoth was dragging the pinger underground. She adjusted the drag and then hit the accelerator. The ship rose, bucking against the strain.
"Hold onto it, Dallas," she heard Miller cry. "It's a whopper!"
She was going to kill Miller when this was over Stew hefted the missile launcher on his shoulder, feeling the anxiety building up inside him. He adjusted the targeting sight and saw his fingers trembling. Clenching his fist, he exhaled a curse at his sudden weakness.
What he really wanted was a drink to steady his nerves. He'd wanted that a lot since shooting his father.
His eyes were glued on the scene playing out before him. The ground writhed as the tentacles enveloping the pinger became visible and snaked up and around the thick cable attached to Debbi's ship. The dirt poured away from the monster as the Stallion rose higher into the air.
"Here it comes!" Olivares shouted. "She's doing it!"
Indeed she was, Stew silently cheered. Debbi's slow, erratic climb was pulling the beast free of Banshee soil.
It was huge!
And it wasn't a worm. Multiple brownish tendrils stretched out fifty feet from a gigantic bulbous head. A rubbery, gaping mouth with hundreds of rows of teeth worked constantly beneath three bulging obsidian eyes. A sticky slime trail stretched from the ground to the creature as it became airborne, its last tenuous hold to the earth it held so dear.
"It's clear, Dallas! It's clear!" Ringo erupted over the com.
"Well, then shoot it!" Debbi ordered. The whine of the straining engines nearly drowned out her voice. The Stallion shook violently as it struggled to comply with Debbi's command to stay in the air.
Stew's hands continued to tremble no matter how hard he tried to still them. He gritted his teeth and flicked on the targeting device. Red crosshairs emerged onto his field of vision, but he had trouble keeping them centered on the creature. He blamed it on the swinging pendulum effect caused by the creature's frenzied wiggling on the end of the cable, but he knew in his heart it wasn't. The fault lay with him.
"Stew! Take the shot!" Debbi ordered again.
"I—I can't.!"
Stew felt a presence beside him and a firm steady hand on his shoulder. "Breathe out and hold it. Then squeeze the trigger."
Stew shoved off Olivares's hand roughly. "I know my damn job!"
Olivares gave him a hard look. "Then do it. A Ranger's life is on the line."
Stew jerked the launcher back up to his shoulder. He shook so badly he couldn't get the target to lock. The young Ranger panted in an effort to calm himself.
"Stew!" Debbi's voice pleaded. "Now!"
The creature climbed upwards to the Stallion, curling and twisting around the cable, causing the ship to swerve wildly Stew couldn't wait any longer. He held
his breath and pulled the trigger. The missile fired and he rocked with its departure, enveloped in a stream of smoke.
To his horror, it missed.
"No!" he shouted.
The side of Temptation's sole feed shop erupted into a fireball. Rangers positioned on the rooftops on either side of that building ducked and covered. Thankfully no one had been stationed on the store itself.
"Geezus, Stew! What's the problem over there?" Miller screamed.
"Nothing! Shut up!" He adjusted the sight once again. Another voice beside him made him face a desperate fact.
"You've got one more chance before it reaches the ship."
Olivares's stone face held no recrimination, but Stew could sense that it was there. He had failed.
One long tentacle already had a grip on the Stallion's left side, wrapping over the top of the hull. The ship was keeling over from the strain. Debbi couldn't release the creature now. She didn't have it; it had her. They were both going to go down.
Stew shoved his eye back onto the sight, but his vision blurred. Thoughts of his father's head bursting in a gray spray in the late afternoon sun filled him. Debbi was about to share that fate. She would die too if he pulled the trigger. The fates of those he cared for, dead by his own hand. His guts churned with panic as the monster coiled tighter around the ship.
They were too close together! There was no clear shot! They were too close!
He lowered the launcher, gasping for air that wasn't there.
"She's losing it!" Ringo shouted in his ear.
The high-pitched whine of the ship's engine was shattering as it rolled.
How the hell was the ship still in the air? Stew thought.
The rest of the Rangers, realizing that no rescuing shot was coming, opened fire with pistols and rifles. The blasts penetrated the thick hide of the worhul, but the damage was minuscule. They only irritated the beast, making it twist and squirm even more, tangling itself further around Debbi. The Stallion was partially obscured by writhing tentacles.
Banshee Screams Page 23
