by Ballan, Greg
Something didn't add up in his mind. Why kill Henderson and not kill Knight and Forrest? Was Knight that much better at defending himself, or just luckier? Nelson was grateful that the two men survived their ordeal, but wondered why they were spared while his employee wasn't as fortunate.
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* * *
Chapter 5
Wednesday afternoon, 5:30 p.m.
Erik sat up on the stretcher as the medics finished bandaging his chest. He had stubbornly refused to be taken to a hospital, wanting nothing to do with any more blood transfusions. He finished the half-gallon of orange juice that Nelson provided, and paused to stare at the other men staring at him with some concern.
“I'll be fine,” he reassured Nelson and the others. “They said it looked a lot worse than it actually was.”
“You're starting to get some color back, anyway,” Steve replied. “You had me spooked, my friend.”
“We all got spooked,” he replied seriously. “Gentlemen, I've been in these woods for nearly eight years and I've never, ever seen anything like we saw earlier today. Steve, you saw it; I saw it up close and personal. Nelson and Belachek, you saw what it did to Henderson and our ‘Jane Doe,’ Carol Carlin. Can we all agree that we're not dealing with an animal?”
They all nodded in agreement.
“If it's not a man and it's not an animal, then what the hell are we dealing with?” Nelson asked.
“I don't know,” Steve answered. “All I know is that I put enough forty-four lead into that thing to stop an elephant, and it simply walked away. It picked me up like I was a rag doll; I can still feel its icy cold grip around my neck.” The officer had a tone of dread and a hint of fear in his voice.
“It's obvious that it has some kind of armored covering.” Erik held up his skinned knuckles. “But, I do think we hurt it. We just need something with some more firepower. Like maybe Belachek's rifle, which we should have taken with us. As for the creature's larger friend out there, I just don't have the answers.” He sighed heavily, shifting the position of his heavily bandaged torso.
“Bottom line, gentlemen,” Nelson remarked. “We just got our asses kicked. Steve, from what you and Erik said, this larger thing could have had you, but it let you withdraw. I think they were just making a point, saying ‘you can't hurt us, so stay away.'”
“I don't follow you,” Erik said.
“I'm just applying logic, Erik,” Nelson replied. “Let's look at the facts. You put eight rounds into it earlier, then capped off the rest of your four clips. So that's eight rounds times four clips. I've looked at those peashooters of yours; they're not exactly stock. It took thirty-two rounds from you alone, and six or eight rounds from Steve. Plus, you said you buried the blade of that big pig-sticker you were carrying earlier into its shoulder. Nothing human could live through that,” the detective stated firmly.
He continued. “You were both beaten up there. It could have killed you like it killed Henderson. I'll admit that you may have caused it some measure of difficulty, Erik, but face it; we had to carry you out of the woods. If this thing wanted, it could have killed all of us at any time as we were heading back to the main trails, but it didn't.”
“Maybe you're on to something.” Belachek nodded in agreement “Think about it, Erik; what better way than to discourage trespassers than by spooking the hell out of some of them and then letting them escape? The trespassers won't return and they'll warn everyone else off the area. And let's face it; we're going to do exactly that.” He continued looking at the Hopedale cop. “You know as well as the rest of us that the police will cordon off these trails and keep everyone out of the woods. We'll never tell the public that there are monsters up there. You'll blame it on some wild animals or some other cover story. Whatever it is, it wants to be left alone; it used today to make that point, I think.”
“Maybe,” Erik conceded, “but it seemed determined to get a hold of Steve.”
“Or,” Steve countered, “maybe it only wanted one of us to get out alive. Maybe it figured that since you weren't going to let it get me, it would settle for you and let me live. Either way, its mission is served,” Steve commented, as he weighed the points of discussion.
“We're still missing one important piece of the puzzle, which puts a hole in this theory,” Erik commented. “Lisa Reynolds. I think that this thing took Lisa Reynolds and she was nowhere near the woods. Why would it go out of its way to abduct a child? She doesn't fit into this equation we're building,” Erik countered. “Also, if it did take the child, where is her body? If this thing is following the same pattern, we should have found her somewhere in there. The jogger wasn't too far off a path, and Henderson was left right where he was murdered.
“This ... this thing abducted a child right under the noses of several people and carried her off to the parklands without being seen by a single hiker or a jogger. That doesn't match anything we've experienced and puts a damper on our working theory,” the detective observed. “I still think we're missing an important piece of the puzzle.” Erik looked at the five other men for their comments.
“Maybe the girl is the key,” one of the other Hopedale officers responded.
“The key to what?” Belachek asked as he took a long drink of water. “Let's look at the score card: We've lost Henderson; we almost lost Knight and the cop. We have something that can block out the sun and make things as dark as midnight, as well as interfere with radio transmissions. Sometimes it can be seen, and sometimes it's invisible. This creature has an armored hide and seemingly impervious to small arms fire.” He paused, wiping his mouth.
“The question we need to ask now is what do we do about all of this? We can't give a factual report of what occurred up there because nobody will believe us; hell, I was there and I still don't believe it,” he concluded, staring at Nelson.
“What are you going to tell the Reynolds?” Steve asked. “They footed the bill for this debacle, and you boys came up with a big fat goose egg.”
“We found your missing person,” Erik countered somewhat bitterly. “And we found out what's doing it. What the police choose to tell the public is your bailiwick. I only deal with what is, and ‘what is’ is very disturbing.” Erik didn't appreciate Steve taking a cheap shot, considering the dire circumstances; now was not the time to resort to blame.
“I'll speak with the Reynolds,” Nelson responded to the Hopedale cop. “That's my responsibility. You deal with the local crap; that's your hassle. Whatever you do, just keep people out of these woods. Let's not piss this thing off any more than we've already managed to. I've got a report to file, and a family back in Manhattan that I owe a phone call. We've succeeded in one thing, gentlemen: We've made a very nice young woman a widow.”
Nelson stepped out of the van and walked to his car. Belachek followed closely behind him. Erik stepped down from the van and followed. He said a quick goodbye to Steve and headed toward Nelson's car.
“Look, Knight, we're wrapping it up for today; we're taking Henderson's body back to New York tonight. I'll be flying back Saturday or Sunday to continue the search. Take a few days to get your strength back because we're going back in. There's a little girl's body that needs to be recovered; can I count you in?”
“I'm part of the team,” Erik replied. “I'll be here, you just tell me when.”
Nelson nodded as he opened the car door. “Get in, the least we can do is give you a ride.”
* * * *
Erik walked in the back door of Madame's and went up the basement stairway that led to his office. He didn't want any of Jeff's customers seeing him in this condition. Erik was sore and tired. There wasn't a muscle in his body that didn't ache. He entered the hall through a side door and quickly went into his office. He removed his heavy gun holster and tossed it on the table. He removed what was left of his shirt and casually tossed it into a wastebasket. The knock on the door startled him.
“It's open,” he responded.
&n
bsp; “You're just in time for the dinner crowd,” Jeff's voice began. He suddenly paused as he looked at the condition of the man standing before him. “Good Lord! What the hell happened to you?” He studied the cuts on Erik's face, hands, and torso.
“Did you know that there are cougars up in the Hopedale Hill?” Erik asked evasively.
Jeff shook his head.
“Well, they're awfully big,” he continued. “Let me get a quick shower and I'll help Alissa set the tables.” Erik took three steps and then stumbled slightly. He was feeling lightheaded again. He knew it was from the loss of blood and that he needed to give his body time to recover.
“You're not doing anything except going back to your room and getting some rest. You're not doing any good to anybody right now,” Jeff ordered, taking his motherly tone. “I'll have Alissa bring you something later. Now, go on, get out of here. You'll scare my customers if they see you like this,” Jeff added as he lightly pushed Erik out of his office and through the side door in the hallway.
Erik made his way back through the small passage into the building's large basement. He went up a staircase on the opposite side and entered the foyer where his apartment was located. He entered his apartment and eased himself down on his bed. Sleep overcame his body as soon as his head hit his pillow.
* * * *
A jet-black helicopter flew swiftly and silently through the dark of night. There were no running lights on this vehicle or significant markings of any type. The chopper was flying dangerously low, below the conventional radar-tracking ceiling for aircraft. Its destination was Hopedale Mountain. It flew silently over the sleeping town, and made its way toward the lone peak.
“Spectre 1 on final approach,” the pilot said into his headset. He was carefully studying his infrared scanner and night flying instrumentation; the view outside his cockpit was nothing but midnight black.
The helicopter reached its designated target and slowly circled the area. He activated the FLIR pod on the belly of the helicopter and slowly scanned the entire area. He saw several heat signatures from animals, but nothing that fit a human pattern.
“Spectre 1, report,” a voice sounded through the pilot's radio.
“Spectre 1, no sign of them. I'm setting her down at the landing sight. Our team will head for the tunnel.” The pilot circled the area one final time before carefully setting the chopper down on the makeshift landing pad.
Five men disembarked from the helicopter and began a quick equipment check. Two of the men had camera equipment and other communication gear; one man carried a high intensity spotlight, while the other four wore head-mounted light straps. The two other men were busy checking over their various monitors and geological equipment.
The plan was for the five men to investigate the surrounding area and then the tunnel. The camera and radio equipment would relay continuous signals to the helicopter, and the helicopter would bounce the signal off a satellite to their corporate headquarters in Boston.
The last report that they had received before losing contact was that the tunneling team had found some kind of chamber. The site foreman was going down to investigate and evaluate the situation. The foreman on the site had requested some very expensive equipment to bore into the chamber, but never reported back. The suits at the corporate headquarters assumed that a cave-in had occurred, but needed to send a team in for a positive assessment. It had taken some time to compile a list of trustworthy, yet expendable, resources willing to do the job with no questions asked.
The five men finished their equipment check and activated the lights upon their helmets. Each individual sounded off to the pilot inside the helicopter who would be forwarding their transmissions.
“Anderson, testing.”
“Rogers, testing.”
“Phillips, testing.”
“Takei, testing.”
“Harris, testing.”
The pilot acknowledged each transmission and responded as he fine-tuned the communications array in his cockpit.
“Spectre 1 to team, video and audio transmissions are positive, proceed to target,” the pilot responded to the team.
“Harris, you have the main video, you're up with Rogers and his flood light. Takei, stay with me; Phillips, you have the point,” Anderson said as he took charge of the mission. The team proceeded through the thick darkness of the campsite, checking each individual tent and piece of abandoned equipment in their vicinity.
“No sign of anything out of the unusual,” Harris observed, picking up a half empty Pepsi bottle resting on a small table.
“How far away are we from the tunnel entrance?” Anderson asked.
“Maybe 150 meters or so that way,” Takei answered, pointing into the darkness.
Anderson took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Let's go, people.”
The five men moved slowly through the woods toward the location of the tunnel entrance, the large spotlight did little to illuminate the massive darkness of the forest lying before them.
* * * *
The pilot was busy in his cockpit, aligning the ship's communications array with the designated orbital satellite while simultaneously monitoring the digital feed to make any fine adjustments to the signal bandwidth as the team descended into the tunnel. He wasn't used to serving as a relay tech, but they could not afford the weight of a seventh man on this operation.
He carefully adjusted controls and dials as instructed, and was rewarded with a clear signal from the team's camera unit. The pilot flicked a switch, which would activate the broadcast to the satellite. He was awarded with a flashing green light that signified a transmission.
“Spectre 1 to base, can you confirm transmission?”
“Spectre 1, we have satellite feed,” a voice over the radio set confirmed.
The pilot sat back in his chair and studied the images; there was nothing else for him to do until it was time for extraction.
* * * *
The team had performed a complete sweep of the area and found nothing. The five men headed toward the opening of the tunnel and began the long slow walk down into the bowels of the mountain. The powerful floodlight did little to illuminate the tunnel depths, and the men were huddled close together.
“What the hell happened to the overhead lighting?” Anderson wondered aloud.
“The generator probably ran out of fuel,” Harris answered.
The party proceeded through the 500 feet in relative silence, pausing to double check equipment readings.
“I'm getting a different reading up ahead, almost like an echo of a larger opening,” Takei reported as he paused, studying the readout. “The tunnel seems to open up after this leg.”
The group of men moved forward, straining to make out details ahead of them in the darkness.
“How much further?” Anderson inquired.
“I'd guess another 150 feet or so; I'm getting some weird readings on the spectrometer. There's definitely some kind of metallic structure ahead, but it's like nothing I've ever seen before.” He paused momentarily, adjusting the gain to its highest sensitivity. “Base, are you getting these readings?”
“We're getting it,” a voice on the radio replied. “Proceed.”
“Yeah, proceed, let them fumble around in this darkness,” Phillips mumbled.
“Typical bureaucrat,” another of their party answered.
The party continued their way forward and entered the large opening. They stood in awe as their lights reflected off the polished stone walls. Then their lights fell on the bodies of the tunnel party. The five men became nervous. They cautiously made their way toward the bodies.
“Can you see this, base?” Anderson asked in a voice filled with panic. “Some of them have been literally torn apart. They were murdered, butchered.”
“But by what?” Takei asked as he studied the body of Gillespie. Gillespie's body was lying in a large dried pool of blood.
“How the hell should I know? I wasn't here,” Anderson answered.
“Fuck you, pal,” one of the party answered. “It's easy being calm behind a freakin’ desk.”
“Hello?” Philips screamed into his headset. “Five men have been murdered here, five of your employees. Guys, let's bug out of here before what happened to them happens to us.”
“We're paying you to do the job,” the voice over the headset answered firmly. “If you wish to terminate your contract, you can leave now. Of course, you'll have to walk down the mountain; you will not be allowed back in the corporate helicopter. If you don't complete the job, all of you, I'll order the chopper back, right now.”
“Asshole,” all five men whispered simultaneously. They each paused and shared a nervous chuckle.
“Okay, guys, let's pull it together; whatever happened here is history now. Let's do what we came to do and get out of here,” Anderson remarked, trying to calm the men under him.
There was dead silence among the five men for nearly 30 seconds.
“Let's get back to work,” Anderson commanded. “Phillips, see if you can get the generator back on, let's get some more light in here.”
The party continued their observation of the uncovered chamber, recording images of the symbols on the wall and the huge gargoyle statues.
“What kind of symbols are these?” Anderson asked Takei, the team geologist.
“It looks similar to writings I've seen at ancient Aztec pyramids; this other stuff, I can't make out. It's like nothing I've ever seen,” he responded as he ran his fingers over several of the carved runes. Takei raised his small digital camera and sent several images digitally to the chopper to be relayed back to the company. He instructed Harris to shoot several seconds of the walls with the larger camera system. “We'll need to bring in a team of archeologists to study this.”
Phillips had little success with the generator, as they had expected. Its fuel supply was exhausted. He did, however, manage to retrofit power connections to the generators back-up battery, supplying some sparse overhead light for the team to work with. With the new light source activated, the men spent nearly twenty minutes photographing and taking instrument readings on the external chamber, and did their best to ignore the corpses and blood scattered throughout the cavern. Anderson had spent the last five minutes studying the large Argon laser; he studied the controls, trying to reconstruct what could have possibly happened.
