Hybrid

by Ballan, Greg

  But, he also knew that it was too late in the game for self-pity. He made his choices and decisions; all he could do now was follow them through. The game had to be played out to its conclusion. He had planned carefully, once completed, there would be nothing left to implicate his firm. The tunnel would be filled in, and there would be nothing left of their campsite but smoky ruins and several impact craters. Everything now depended on timing.

  They needed to know exactly when the next team was going to storm the mountain. Undoubtedly, the Army would send in helicopters and heavy equipment plus dozens of armed soldiers into the area to flush these things out. When this occurred, their helicopter would mix in with the group, break off to the target site, and obliterate everything with the Typhoon missiles and high explosive rockets. The pilot would then bank away, utilizing the enhanced boosters, and then as before, the helicopters programming would send it out to sea to self-destruct out in the middle of the icy Atlantic, eliminating the final loose ends and hopefully burying Pendelcorp's mistakes forever.

  There would be no one left to tell the tale; the Military would get the blame for any loss of life, and Pendelcorp would remain untouched by any scandal. There would no doubt be an intense military investigation, and the military would no doubt be able to account for all its hardware, but there would be enough witnesses to the destruction to impede any actual progress for years to come. It would be another of many unsolved mysteries to be filed away and forgotten.

  * * * *

  Deep in the tunnel within Hopedale Mountain, the creatures stirred. They had spent the last of their energy reserves healing, and now were extremely hungry—desperately hungry. They had sampled the sweet meats of the small primitive creatures and sincerely desired more. There would be no more interference, the black entity vowed to itself. They would move in quickly and quietly, and then bring their prey here to feed.

  It secretly wished to encounter the Simian-Esper hybrid. Its genetic programming commanded it to destroy all Espers, and there was something familiar about this one, something it remembered from long ago, before its long sleep. For what little independent thought the creature was capable of, it wanted to kill the Simian-Esper as slowly and painfully as possible, play with this victim like a cat would play with a mouse. When this Esper had finally tired and could offer no more amusement, the creature would snap its neck as easily as it had broken the others. In its own limited way, it wanted vengeance for the prior encounters.

  Both creatures left their nest area and headed through the tunnel to the outdoors. They casually passed by the now abandoned Pendelcorp campsite, taking no notice of the boxes, crates, and scattered materials that had been abandoned. The large catlike creature took two large sniffs of air, tasting and sampling each molecule, looking for the particular scent of their prey. It found none and growled in distress. The other stroked its large flank gently, telepathically sending out calming messages to its large ally.

  It climbed upon the creature's broad back, gesturing with its right claw. The massive beast took two steps, and then paused as if waiting for something. It emitted a high-pitch tone, and the space in front of it seemed to part into blackness. The darkness spread throughout the woods, blanketing everything in a thick black veil. Both disappeared into the blackness that now filled the woods, and simply vanished as if they were never there. The blackness fell in upon itself and sunlight once again filled the woods. The sudden chirp of a sparrow broke the silence, and the woods around the dig site again seemed peaceful and dauntless.

  * * * *

  Erik looked up at the clock in his office. “Crud.”

  He had been wrestling with paperwork for almost two hours now, and was no further along than when he had started. It was time for him to pick up Brianna from school. He hadn't spent any time planning anything special for his daughter. This was a special time for them—they had Friday and the weekend together this time, instead of just the one evening. He figured that Brianna would have plenty of things to do, and would keep both of them well occupied.

  Erik stared down at the tax forms and decided that some of his money would be well spent on an accountant. Finances were never his strong point.

  He stood up from his desk, grabbed his gun, and started for the door. He suddenly stopped himself, remembering that he was entering a school zone. Firearms were forbidden, for any reason. He quickly shed the weapon and deposited it in his wall safe, grabbed his jacket and headed out to his truck.

  * * * *

  The children at Hopedale Middle School played happily at the school playground under the watchful eyes of three teachers. They were not aware of the darkness that encroached upon them until it was too late.

  The darkness spilled into the middle of their play area, eradicating the sunlight. The two creatures emerged from the heart of the darkness and casually began to select their prey. The large felenoid scooped up a child and tossed him into a sack-like fold of skin on its massive underside. The child was too scared to scream or even struggle. Both creatures savored the child's terror as a gourmet appetizer before a fine meal. Wave upon wave of terror emanated from the screaming masses as they were chased and corralled into an ever-tightening mass of bodies, similar to dolphins herding a school of herring before they fed on the tight mass of food. One of the young teachers tried to escape and get help, her neck was snapped and her lifeless body casually tossed aside as an example for the others.

  The waves of fear continued to nourish the creatures until they had at long last reached their full strength. The traces of past bullet holes disappeared from their bodies. The felenoid's skin, which had been peppered with bullet holes and scars, was now almost liquid black in appearance, barely distinguishable from the surrounding darkness. The large creature purred with sadistic satisfaction over its feed.

  The children were all shrieking and crying, and both remaining teachers were terrified into inactivity. The smaller of the creatures began wading through the mass of tiny bodies, similar to a person bargain-shopping, comparing items for a particular value. It picked up a screaming girl and carefully, almost gently, placed the crying child into the larger creature's skin pouch. The pouch seemed to flow around the struggling child and simply engulf her struggling form.

  “Stop it.” One of the remaining teachers boldly stepped into the path of the seven-foot monstrosity. “You can't have these children. Let them go.”

  The creature paused momentarily to regard the apelike female who dared to challenge it. It was about to do something permanent to her when it caught the scent, the feel of something, someone familiar. The large felenoid smelled the air, issuing a great whistling sound as it inhaled and expelled air though its gigantic nostrils. It growled savagely, looking around warily for the source of the disturbance, its roar echoing for over a mile.

  Both creatures spotted a form walking toward them, into the darkness. It was human, but it was also Esper. The hybrid had appeared. They sensed no fear from the hybrid; in fact, they sensed no emotion from it at all. He walked closer to the circle of children then stopped, never taking his eyes off them. The hybrid's apish eyes were burning with a deep intensity. They did not fluctuate nor blink, they simply moved back and forth, studying the two creatures, waiting.

  * * * *

  Erik swore to himself when he saw the darkness; he had run right into the creatures’ feeding frenzy. He knew that he had no real chance against both creatures, but somehow he wasn't afraid. Something inside him welcomed the opportunity for another chance at combat despite the fact that the odds were against him surviving. Both creatures noticed him and quickly turned to face him. Erik ceased his approach, hoping that his presence would pull the creatures toward him and away from the children.

  “C'mon,” he projected the word, using his telepathy, toward the seven-foot monstrosity. “We have unfinished business, you and I.”

  He realized that though they could probably hear his thoughts, they would not understand his language. Erik adopted a simpler stra
tegy. He calmly pointed his right index finger toward both creatures, and gestured for them both to approach him. He shot them a look of absolute disdain and contempt, which required no translation and would be easily deciphered in any language.

  Erik willed his body stronger, and gasped as the flow of increased strength flowed throughout his system. His mind roared at the approaching combat, warning him of the danger. But there was something else, some unknown part of him that urged him on, that seemed to welcome this no-win combat situation.

  * * * *

  The felenoid paused, remembering the painful injuries it incurred from the hybrid at their earlier encounter. It glanced over at its companion who was already moving toward its adversary, forgetting the children that were its prey. It rushed forward in blind fury, wanting to tear its enemy to pieces, its genetic programming screamed for it to kill.

  The creature's attack was met with a heavy kick to its face and a strike to the midsection. It stepped back and whipped its tail around with blinding speed. The tail struck the hybrid, but as in their previous encounter, the enhanced being rolled with the force of the blow and came up unscathed. It attacked again, unleashing a frenzied rain of blows and strikes of razor-sharp claws and whip-like cracks of its tail. Nothing connected. The Human-Esper warrior stayed outside of its reach. He had learned from their encounters, adapted.

  The black-armored creature grew furious; it was stronger now, it had fed, but it still could not overcome the hybrid's speed and agility. It suddenly realized how it could defeat its foe and realization spurred it to action.

  It quickly turned back to the group of children, wading again into them. It picked up another child and approached the large felenoid. The hybrid attacked, running toward it and leaping high into the air. His feet impacted with the armored creature, causing the creature to lose its footing and stumble forward. It dropped the child and headed back toward the group of children. The creature turned, and was attacked again by the hybrid. As it attacked, the felenoid scooped up the other child its partner had dropped.

  The hybrid now stood between the monster and the children, exactly where the creature wanted him. He could no longer use his agility; he would be forced to fight and protect the children simultaneously. The hybrid's greatest weapon was now taken away. The creature walked slowly toward him and the children, waiting for the hybrid to attack. The attack came with swift precision, kicks and punches, dozens of types of strikes against its armored hide. The creature now had the advantage in close quarters. Its freshly enhanced strength was more than enough to absorb the impacts of blows from the hybrid.

  It swung its arm and hit the hybrid hard across the face; the blow cracked like thunder, its second blow was blocked, as was its third, but it managed to whip its serpent-like tail and catch the hybrid off-guard. Its tail slammed into his soft flesh, tossing the hybrid five feet into the air. As it expected, the hybrid came back attacking again.

  The hybrid landed a solid sidekick into its leg, actually causing a slight crack in the creatures black exo-skeleton. The creature responded by slamming its fist into the hybrid's face. It heard a crack and felt something warm upon its icy shell. Blood. Blood was pouring from the hybrid; he was hurt. The blood caused the creature to attack furiously. Several of his blows connected with ear-shattering thumps, while the creature sustained minor cracks in its facial plate from kicks and punches as the hybrid retaliated.

  The human warrior still stood between the creature and its prey, but he was panting now, having difficulty breathing. Each breath the hybrid took was labored. The creature sensed this and walked toward the children again.

  The hybrid still stood directly in its path, deliberately blocking its progress. This time, the creature did not wait to be attacked; it charged its foe, quickly closing the distance. The hybrid tried to react, but he was weakening. His reaction time was too slow. The impact sent the humanoid flying backward several feet, landing on his back.

  The creature picked up another screaming child and turned toward its ally. After several steps, it felt a sharp stab of pain as something shattered the armored shell on its shoulder. It fell forward face first into the playground sand. The child squirmed free and ran away screaming. As it got up, the creature was again slammed in the face by another powerful concussion. Its own blood flowed freely down its face as the force of this powerful blow threw it back.

  The hybrid held a large round object in both hands. The object was now covered with bright blue blood—its blood. The creature hissed savagely and went over to a large wooden structure. It tore at the structure until a fair sized piece came off in its hands. It turned to face the hybrid and was stunned as the round object his opponent had been holding collided with the front of its face.

  The creature tossed the bundle it had tore from the object, not at the hybrid, but at the prey. The hybrid intervened, absorbing the impact himself by shattering the object with a massive blow from his arm, saving the small creatures. The impact, however, damaged the hybrid further. The arm it used to destroy the debris now dangled uselessly at an awkward angle from his body.

  He was stumbling, shouting at the prey-things. At his voice, they began to scatter. The creature grabbed one more before they could all get away and tossed it toward the felenoid. It watched happily as the small thing was absorbed. Something had fallen from the little creature's neck, some kind of metallic chain. The creature paid no further attention to it, but instead focused on its victim. As it had hoped, the hybrid was unable to fight further. It rained blow after blow upon the hybrid, screeching with delight as it heard the sound of a bone-breaking or the spillage of fresh blood.

  The hybrid tried to fight back, actually landing two solid blows with his good arm. The hybrid was screaming something, shouting at the top of his lungs. He tried to approach the felenoid, but the cat backed away. The black-armored creature pummeled him again and again, but still the humanoid warrior crawled toward the felenoid, ignoring the dreadful beatings. The black-armored creature stopped, it looked toward the felenoid ally. It gestured to its companion, whose pouch was swollen with four stolen children.

  The cat creature approached, and with one casual swipe of its huge paw, sent the sprawled hybrid crashing into a wall twenty feet from where he was kneeling. The hybrid did not get up. He no longer moved. Both creatures turned back into the darkness, disappearing.

  * * * *

  Sunlight gradually filtered back into the schoolyard. Teachers and police made their way into the playground area. It was a scene of carnage.

  The broken body of a schoolteacher lay sprawled on the ground, her head turned in an unnatural manner. Red blood and bluish fluid stained the sand everywhere. A play fort was ruined, scattered across the grounds. In the corner, slumped against the side of the school building, his body cut, bruised, broken, and bleeding, lay Erik Knight.

  Police and panic-stricken teachers swarmed out into the playground area. The scene that greeted them was straight out of a horror movie. Teachers did their best to keep the other students who had escaped the creatures’ wrath away from the area. The police carefully checked the area, and the fallen teacher for vital signs.

  “She's dead,” the officer whispered as he nervously caressed the grip on his service revolver.

  They both made their way to where Erik Knight lay, gasping in horror as they saw his lacerated body lying in an ever-growing pool of his own blood.

  “Damn!” one of the officers swore as he checked the fallen man for a pulse. “He's been through a meat grinder.”

  “He's been beaten to a pulp,” one of the surviving teachers whispered. “He tried to save the children, his daughter.”

  One of the other officers picked up something from the sand. “Dog tags—Erik Knight's dog tags.”

  “He's still alive, barely,” the officer who stood over his lifeless body remarked. “We need an ambulance and we need it now,” he instructed the teacher.

  “Whatever it was, Knight got a good piece of it befo
re he fell,” one of the officers remarked. “There's blue shit all over the place, and I found a large rock that has to be at least fifty pounds, covered with the stuff.”

  “I want statements from both teachers. Tape off this entire area; nobody comes in without official authorization,” the officer instructed as he knelt down at Erik's side. “Hang on, Knight, help is coming. Don't you die out here, you ornery son of a bitch. Don't you die on us.”

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  * * *

  Chapter 11

  Friday evening, 7:55 p.m.

  He was in a hospital bed, several tubes and machines violating his body. A machine assisted his breathing; one of his lungs had collapsed, punctured by several broken ribs. His right arm was in a full-length cast, broken in a three places. His skull was wrapped in an attempt to set his severely broken jaw. He had broken six fingers and crushed three knuckles in his fight. The doctors had sewn over two hundred stitches into various cuts and lacerations upon his tattered body and removed almost a pint of blood from his lung that hadn't collapsed, but was still partially skewered when one of his ribs cut through the delicate life-giving tissue. Mercifully, the doctors had pumped him full of sedatives. The pain from so many injuries inflicted would be more than a human nervous system could tolerate.

  Several people sat in a waiting room outside the intensive care wing of Massachusetts General Hospital. One woman, in particular, seemed excessively agitated. She paced back and forth, her leather pants making a harsh scraping sound as her legs abraded the fabric. Her hair had a slight tint of purple and she wore dark eyeliner and lipstick. A man sat on an uncomfortable seat, watching her pace. He was older, with iron gray hair. He still had on a cooking apron and a grease-stained T-shirt, not even allowing himself time to change when he had heard that his friend had fallen. The third was a young woman, who sat slightly apart from the others. She, too, was concerned, but for more reasons than those who were with her at this point.