by Chris Fox
“It was in a ravine between these two large mountains. One of them looked like an old man with big eyebrows,” he said, doing his best to recall any other significant features. “I know the closest town was supposed to be Villa Milagros.”
“See?” Liz said, tone challenging as she focused on Jefe. “His story checks out. He’s talking about Yanacocha. That’s just a few miles further up the mountain. There was that caravan of jeeps a few weeks back. Maybe he was with them.”
“He could be making it up,” Jefe growled, leaning forward in his chair and skewering Blair with his gaze. “Are you lying? If you are, the truth’s going to come out. We can verify your story about the dig. If that valley’s empty, we’ll know you killed these people. If that’s the case, I won’t hesitate to execute you.”
Sudden rage crashed over Blair. He was the one naked and chained for no reason he could see. What gave this bastard the right to sit in judgment over him?
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Blair roared, a wave of heat surging through him. Jefe’s eyes widened, and his hand fell to the pistol holstered at his side. “You’ve got me chained to a bed against my will even though I haven’t done anything. So let me make this very clear. You will release me and let me have my clothes back.” That last part came out as a growl.
“I will do nothing of the kind,” Jefe retorted. He’d recovered his composure, staring dispassionately at Blair. “First we will investigate your story, and then we will see what to do. Gonzalez will take the jeep up to Yanacocha. He can be back in just a few hours. That will give us plenty of time to discuss your story.”
“Can’t we at least get him some clothing?” Liz asked, drawing Jefe’s gaze. Blair could tell the man had a soft spot for her, and it wasn’t hard to understand why.
“I will find him something,” Jefe agreed, taking a step toward the door. “Do not get too close to him. Do not let your guard down. I know he seems innocent, but appearances can be deceiving. This man could be a killer.”
“I’ll be careful,” Liz agreed as Jefe left the clinic. She turned to face Blair, sinking into a plastic chair and pulling it a bit closer to the bed. She was still out of reach.
“Well, this is awkward,” Blair said after several moments of tense silence. “I’m sorry you have to be involved in this. Though, honestly, I’m not sure what ‘this’ is. I can’t even imagine how I ended up here.”
“You don’t remember anything? About coming here?” she asked, moving to one of the chrome drawers. She opened it and removed a wad of bandages. She moved to the bed, eyeing him warily as she began to roll it around his chest. He glanced down, noticing a six-inch slash that had already scabbed over. The edges were an angry red, though it didn’t hurt like any infection he’d ever had. Where had that come from?
“I…” Blair began, realizing that perhaps he did know something. Fragmented images danced just out of reach. Scenes from a nightmare. Screaming, people dying. “No, I don’t. You said those people are dead. How many? I mean I know that’s morbid, but I just…I need to know.”
“Almost thirty,” Liz answered, still wearing those dark sunglasses. Her voice was soft, subdued. “What were you digging for? There aren’t any ruins around here.”
“There are, actually. Ruins like you’ve never seen,” Blair said, repositioning himself on the bed in an attempt to get comfortable. The cuffs made that difficult. “The pyramid we found predates any culture on this continent by at least six thousand years. What’s more, the structure was built by an advanced civilization, one we’ve never encountered before.”
“Next you’re going to tell me about aliens,” Liz replied. He could sense the eye roll even if he couldn’t see it. She finished winding the gauze, applying a pair of butterfly clips to cinch it in place. “I hope, for your sake, you’re telling the truth. If you killed those people, the penalty here is death. Jefe won’t be shy about meting out justice. I doubt he’ll even wait to get you to Cajamarca. He’ll do it himself.”
“If I’m the killer, he’d be right to do it,” Blair said, unable to suppress a sigh. “I know you don’t believe me, but I honestly have no idea how I got here. I’m just a teacher trying to make ends meet.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Her tone was skeptical enough to alarm him. He had to do something.
“Think about it,” Blair said, hoping she’d see reason. He needed an ally, however flimsy that alliance might be. “If I killed these people, why would I have stuck around? Why lay here apparently naked and covered in blood?”
“Maybe Jefe’s right. You could be crazy.”
“Maybe, but he said you’re a doctor, right? Use Occam’s razor. What’s the simplest explanation? Let’s examine the facts. How were these people killed?”
“By some sort of animal,” Liz admitted, dropping back into her plastic chair now that her work was done. “I’ve never seen wounds quite like these.”
“That alone should clear me,” Blair continued, though somewhere in the recesses of his mind fangs flashed. He remembered the taste of raw flesh, hot and wonderful. “If it was me, I must have needed some sort of weapon, right? Where is that weapon? I bet you didn’t find one. So what’s the simplest explanation?”
“That the people here were killed by an animal. For some reason, it didn’t kill you.”
“Good, you can see reason. Listen, I don’t know what killed these people. I don’t even know how I got here. But that’s not the real question you should be asking.”
“What should I be asking?” Liz said, sarcasm not lost on him.
“Where is that animal now?”
Chapter 19- Numb
Sheila was too numb to be terrified, emotions wrung out of her like so much dirty dishwater. She sat atop a rock, watching the flurry of activity engulf the camp around her. None of the soldiers scurrying about paid her any mind, though they had to be aware of her. There were over two dozen now, most erecting new tents around the large jeeps that had come in just before dawn.
A few more clustered around one of four new helicopters. Three were the larger types that had disgorged a seemingly endless supply of crates and men. The last was sleeker, smaller. It had a pair of deadly looking guns slung under short, stubby wings, and a cockpit designed to seat two.
Yuri sat in one, wearing a headset that covered his ears alongside his ever-present sunglasses. Commander Jordan stood a few feet away, a similar headset clutched in one hand. The other held a tablet, which had been handed to him by one of the black-clad techs moving between the soldiers.
“Commander,” one of the techs called, trotting over from a hastily erected tent. “We have the results. The DNA is a match, sir.”
Jordan looked up slowly from the tablet. Large bags under eyes seemed to bear the weight of the world. “So, let me see if I understand this. Professor Smith rose from the dead, then killed most of the scientists?”
“So far as we can tell, sir,” the man said, adjusting owlish glasses. He winced as the rotors on the helicopter began to spin. Slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed. “The DNA from the wounds on the bodies is a perfect match. That thing, whatever it is, used to be Smith. There’s more, sir. There’s an irregular pathogen in the saliva. We haven’t been able to identify it.”
“Is it communicable?” Jordan asked, tensing.
“We don’t know, sir,” the tech shrugged.
“For the time being, we have to assume it is. Requisition whatever you need to study it and have a report on my desk in two hours. Have you gotten the satellite photos I asked for?” Jordan asked, tucking the tablet under his arm and putting on the headset.
“Yes, sir. You’ll find them on the tablet. It’s linked to the copter’s Wi-Fi, but you may not be able to access it until you’re away from the pyramid,” the man replied, glancing uneasily at the structure.
“Sum it up for me then,” Jordan said drily. He turned to the copter and tossed the tablet onto the rear seat. Yuri shifted slightly as it sailed by but k
ept his focus on the dashboard. How the Russian remained so calm, Sheila didn’t know. She envied him.
“The citizens of Villa Milagros are all dead, sir. The bodies have been gathered into a mass grave. As of two hours ago, there was one civilian digging a grave outside and a heat signature in one of the buildings.”
“Acknowledged,” Jordan said. He waved dismissively, and the tech trotted away.
Jordan turned in Sheila’s direction, stalking over to her rock like a panther. He stood there for a long moment, heavy eyes studying her. “Sheila, are you all right?”
“No,” Sheila replied, shaking her head slowly. “No, I’m not. Have you found any sign of Alejandro or Doctor Roberts?”
“The creature caught up with them last night,” Jordan said, a brief expression of pain flitting across his features. “I’m sorry, Sheila.”
Just like that, she became the sole survivor of the science team. Blair, dead. Steve, Bridget, dead. Now Alejandro and Roberts. Shouldn’t she feel something? Grief? Anger? She must be in shock.
“We’re going after it,” Jordan said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. The gesture was oddly human coming from the man she’d thought of as a corporate robot. “It’s slaughtered a village not far from here, and it could do the same to others if we don’t stop it. We’ll be back in a few hours. Why don’t you get some sleep in the meantime?”
“That’s a good idea,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze to hide the lie. She wasn’t sure she could ever sleep again. If she did, she knew what she’d find lurking there—those terrible eyes.
Sheila was vaguely aware of the crunching gravel as Jordan turned and headed for the helicopter. The whirring of the rotors grew more high-pitched. She hoped he’d give that thing some payback.
Chapter 20- Hunted
Liz wobbled to her feet, plastic chair clattering to the floor behind her. Fear sank deep roots, cunning and insidious. The man on the bed eyed her, something unreadable in his gaze. His muscles tensed, chest and shoulders rippling as he straightened.
She knew he was probably trying to manipulate her, but he’d spoken sense. She wasn’t a vet and didn’t know a lot about forensics, but the wounds did appear to have been inflicted by an animal. If that was the case, then it was still out there. It might even be watching them. Waiting. Stalking.
“I have to talk to Jefe,” she said, shouldering open the stuck door and half stumbling from the stifling room. Blair said nothing as she exited.
Jefe was ambling back toward the clinic in that nonchalant way of his, placid as a still pond despite the horrific situation. He carried a pair of jeans and a ragged white t-shirt under one arm, waving as Gonzalez’s jeep roared up the road behind him. It made for the pass above, a narrow track leading to Yanacocha, where Blair’s story could be verified.
“He tell you anything?” Jefe called as he approached, a thin streamer of pungent smoke rising from the cigarette clutched in his right hand. Liz closed the distance before answering.
“What if he isn’t the killer?” she asked, words jumbled together just like her thoughts. She must sound hysterical. “If an animal attacked these people, then it’s still out there. What if it comes back? You have a gun, right?”
“Yes.” Jefe nodded, placing a calloused hand on her shoulder. “If there is a beast and it comes back, we will deal with it. But I do not believe there is one. A man killed these people, and I believe he is in that room, cuffed to the bed.”
“What makes you think it was that guy we’ve got chained in there? Those wounds look like they were inflicted by a large predator, not a man,” she said, convinced Jefe was wrong. Blair lacked the means to do this, much less the motive. “Besides, those bodies were partially eaten. No human could have done that, especially not so quickly. These bodies are fresh. Probably from last night, or maybe yesterday.”
“Those are interesting facts, but I have cause to believe it was the work of this man. Walk with me and I will show you,” he said, guiding her up the road and toward a cluster of ramshackle houses. Each stood atop short stilts to avoid the thick mud that came with the rains. The late afternoon sun made them appear forlorn, especially in the absence of their owners. “Do you see that house over there? The one with the red door?”
“I see it,” she replied, studying the structure. It looked the same as the other houses, at least as far as she could see.
“Look at the door,” Jefe said, eyeing her as if waiting for her to realize something obvious.
The paint was faded and cracked, but there was nothing out of place with the door. It stood closed, looking none the worse for wear after the previous night’s attack. What was she supposed to be seeing?
“Oh my God,” she said, looking at three other nearby doors. All had been shattered. “This door wasn’t broken. Why not? What’s different about this house?”
“It’s the first one in the row,” Jefe explained, turning to face her. He used his forearm to wipe sweat from his forehead. “If you were to enter town from the north, this is the first house you’d encounter. If you were looking to kill everyone, you’d sneak into the first house…”
“…But after that there would be no need to be quiet,” Liz reasoned, suddenly understanding. She approached the house with Jefe, voicing her suspicions. “If the people in the first house screamed, the rest of the village would know they were being attacked. So shattering the doors would make sense, because you’d no longer have the element of surprise.”
“Exactly. Bravo, Doctor Liz. You would make a fine soldier,” Jefe said, giving her an affectionate smile. He approached the door and turned the handle, pushing it open slowly.
The door creaked as it exposed the interior of the house’s single room. Blood had soaked the packed-earth floor, but the bodies had been removed. Shelves dotted the walls around an iron stove that had to be fifty years old. Most held cooking implements, though she spotted a dog-eared Bible on one of the shelves. It hadn’t saved the occupants.
“See over here?” Jefe asked, holding open a curtain that led into the small sleeping chamber in the corner. “The attacker waited for the first person to come through the curtain. He killed them right here, then moved in to kill the others. It was too methodical to be an animal. An animal would have torn the curtain down. This was done by a man.”
“I think you’re right,” Liz admitted, feeling nauseated. She needed to get outside.
She pushed the door open, barely able to contain whatever was left of breakfast as she left the acrid smell of blood. She leaned forward, resting her hands on her khakis as she took slow breaths. Calm down, Liz, she admonished herself. Panicking and getting sick weren’t going to help anything. Besides, if Jefe was right, they’d already caught the killer. So what was there to worry about? They’d know soon enough, when Gonzalez returned.
Liz glanced up the road to see if she could still spy the jeep. There. It was picking its way up a ridge most goats would avoid, nearing the top of the pass. It would be out of sight soon.
“It is a lot to take in, I know,” Jefe said, emerging from the horrible house. “I am sorry that I had to show this to you, any of it. But you can see why I asked. Why I need your help.”
“Yes, I can see. Bringing me was the right thing to do,” she said, still focused on the retreating jeep.
She was completely unprepared for what happened next. As Gonzalez crept up the hill, she spotted movement on the other side of the peak. A helicopter came into view, the whup-whup-whup echoing down the mountainside. It hovered like an angry wasp, spinning to face the jeep. Then one of the massive black guns under the wings began to spin. A moment later a deafening roar filled the valley, projectiles streaking from the horrible weapon. Crack after crack thundered down at her, impossibly loud despite the distance.
Bullets punched through the jeep, spinning it like a block kicked by a child. Gonzalez hunkered down in the driver’s seat, using the vehicle for cover. It didn’t help. More and more bullets rained down on the jeep, which c
areened off the trail and plummeted into the valley. Liz watched in horror as it fell, impacting on the valley floor in a ball of flame and debris. She’d known Gonzalez since the first day she’d arrived in Villa Consuelo. He had a baby goat he fed with a bottle.
“Jefe!” she shrieked, spinning to face him. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she tried to get her mind around what had just happened. “Who are they? What the hell is going on?”
“Run,” he hissed, grabbing her roughly by the shoulder and shoving her in the direction of the clinic. “I don’t know who they are, but they are here to silence us. I begin to believe there may be something up at Yanacocha. Something these people would kill to protect.”
They ran fast and low, darting between fence posts and through front yards. Jefe reached the door to the clinic first, holding it open long enough for her to slip through before slamming it shut. Blair sat upright on the bed, whole body more tense than any spring she’d ever seen. He craned his neck, struggling to look out the window in the direction of the gunfire.
“What’s going on?” he demanded, shifting his gaze between the two of them. “I heard gunshots. A lot of gunshots.”
“Be quiet,” Jefe hissed, slamming the door and jumping into a crouch next to one of the windows.
Liz crept to the window, staring out as much as the dirty glass would allow. She couldn’t see the helicopter, but its angry buzzing was growing closer.
“What if they start shooting at us?” she asked Jefe, careful to keep her voice low.
“Then we die,” Jefe answered, rubbing dirt from the cloudy glass. He peered outside, pulling a pistol from inside his jacket. “Those miniguns fire fifty-caliber bullets. Our only chance is that they did not see us. If they have, they will descend on this village and wipe us out. I do not know why, but they wish to silence anyone who saw whatever they found.”
“They’re coming for me,” Blair said so softly Liz barely heard. She wasn’t sure if he was speaking to them, or just out loud. His gaze was far away. “Something happened in the inner chamber. They want to know what. And how. They’re coming for me.”
