Hybrid

by Ballan, Greg

  The remaining soldiers attempted to retreat and regroup, they were panic firing, spraying bullets in every direction. Several rounds struck both creatures, wounding them, but their enhanced energies kept them strong. The creatures were now at their full strength, more than a match for the remaining soldiers.

  After sixty seconds of bloody massacre, the forest was quiet. The two creatures had suffered several wounds and were bleeding from gaping holes in their armored flesh. The Seelak warrior stood silently, glaring at the punctures in his armor. As the wounded creature rested, its enhanced metabolism worked to quickly restore him. After only another minute of inactivity, his wounds had all healed. The Seelak's body now showed no sign of battle damage. The felenoid's liquid black skin, too, had fully regenerated.

  Both creatures leapt into the trees and began to look for further signs of the primates, leaving behind ten twisted, mangled corpses.

  * * * *

  Captain Anderson looked over at the Major whose skin had gone pale as he reviewed the field reports. They had heard radio reports claiming to have heard the sounds of gunfire and unusual shrieks within the mountain. There had been several attempts to contact Bravo Company, the team furthest into the woodlands.

  “We've lost contact with Bravo group,” the Major whispered to his subordinate. “Two teams have reported the sounds of weapons fire, but no one has heard jack from anybody in that group.”

  “It could simply be a defective radio, sir,” the Captain added comfortingly.

  “It could be that they're all dead, too,” the Major replied darkly. “I'm diverting one of our choppers into their last known position; the other two will still be on station-keeping positions.” He whispered as he reached for his coffee cup. “I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this, Captain.” He drained the remaining contents of his cup with one large gulp.

  “Major Ross, Major Ross, sir,” a panicked voice shouted from the Army Mobile Command Headquarters.

  Ross walked briskly over to the Corporal. “What is it, Corporal?”

  “D Company reported they're under attack by something. We heard the sound of gunfire over the receiver, and then everything just went dead. Our equipment is fine, but we can no longer get a transmission from D Company's frequency.”

  “Do you have their position?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Divert Eyes Two from station-keeping to that point,” the Major ordered, “and radio to the rest of our boys to keep sharp.” Ross walked over to a large map of the area and studied the position of the remaining troops. “I want them in bigger groups. Have the groups that are in the closest proximity merge. These bastards are getting the jump on them.”

  The control center staff began issuing several commands to the remaining teams, ordering them to several coordinates to join with nearby groups and form groups of twenty or thirty men instead of ten.

  “What now, Major?” a corporal asked.

  “Now we wait, and hope that the larger groups are more successful. We also get confirmation from our airborne surveillance as to what the hell happened to those twenty soldiers.”

  * * * *

  The Bell Striker helicopter hovered fifty feet above the tree line, slowly moving through the last coordinates given for Bravo group. The pilot carefully guided the craft while his second strained through a pair of heavy binoculars, trying to penetrate the tree canopy.

  The observer caught a glimpse of something: sunlight glaring off something metallic. He instructed the pilot to circle around so he could get a better look through the opening in the trees. The helicopter moved forward slightly, then spun around 180 degrees. The pilot then pitched the craft forward 20 degrees, giving the spotter a clear view through the gap in the tree canopy.

  The spotter glanced through his heavy binoculars, cursing as he surveyed the limited field of view.

  “What do you see?” the pilot asked.

  The spotter looked over his shoulder at the pilot and mumbled into his headset, “Bodies, mutilated bodies,” he answered as he switched frequencies to the command centers. “Eyes One to Command, Bravo group has been wiped out. I repeat: Bravo group has been wiped out.” The spotter switched back to the cockpit frequency. “Mark this location then get us the hell out of here.”

  The helicopter's powerful blades changed their pitch, lifting the airship higher into the afternoon sky. The craft banked sharply and headed back toward the command post.

  * * * *

  The sparkling being of silver leapt from tree to tree, moving still deeper into the forest, propelled by an ancient knowledge. The Hybrid, Erik Knight, now knew what he was up against, and more importantly, he now knew where to look.

  There was something on the higher elevations of Hopedale Mountain—something huge, buried for thousands of years. What he still didn't know was how these things had been freed; that was a question he'd answer as soon as he recovered his daughter.

  So he moved, a sense of urgency propelling him, and as he moved, his own essence, his sense of humanity, fully returned. He was Erik Knight. He still retained his memories and his soul, but now he was more—he had the memories of another creature, another entire lifetime of emotions and memories along with his own. He experienced emotions that he had no words for, feelings that he, before his change, wasn't capable of feeling. He had become what they had made him; one with the earth, one with their species, the strengths of both species combined into one being, a being which could claim kinship to neither race. It was a unique genetic construct designed for one purpose, destroying two other genetic constructs, the byproducts of a long-forgotten war.

  Erik had paused in a tall tree, overlooking a large expanse of woodlands. He recognized the area he was in, and actually spotted an old tree stand several meters away still hanging in a tree. He was still adjusting to his new senses and new body. His mind had successfully sorted out the extra stimuli that were being fed from his heightened senses, and he controlled each heightened ability with his thoughts, calling up each gift as needed. His enhanced brain seemed to be able to sort, process, and filter all the external stimuli and respond accordingly to his will.

  He was, however, still having difficulty adjusting to his increased physical strength. He had over-shot several trees while leaping, only to come crashing into the ground, unceremoniously landing on his bottom. The unusually large oaks that predominated this area had provided a veritable highway system, making traversing the distance in the dense woodlands much easier than navigating the massive thickets and briars that occupied the dense forest floor. Erik suddenly had a new appreciation for the squirrels that had adopted this method of navigating the forest.

  He could feel the magnetic pull from the north, and he kept that sensation on his right side. He knew instinctively that he was traveling due west, ascending Hopedale Mountain as he had done earlier with Steve. He easily leapt twenty feet, landing on the thick trunk of another oak; the claws in his hands and feet biting into the tree bark providing a secure holding.

  It was awkward to see his silvery flesh. He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't a dream. He wasn't going to wake up in the middle of the night. This whole thing was real; he had forsaken his humanity for the sake of his daughter and some alien race that perished thousands of years before he was even born.

  He was now truly alone, not only an outcast from his ex-wife, but also an outcast from the race that spawned him. There could never be a future with Shanda. He was a freak, an anomaly among nature. Who could love a near seven-foot chrome-plated humanoid?

  Even if he did manage to rescue his daughter, and she were still alive, how would she view her father now? My dad, the “Bionic Tin Man." Erik was tormented by these dark thoughts as he propelled himself still deeper into the woodlands.

  Overhead, he heard the distinctive thrum of rotor blades. As he focused on the distant sound, it became louder and clearer. He saw in the distance ahead of him, from his high perch in the treetops, an Army helicopter circling away f
rom an area a good three miles from him. If not for his enhanced hearing and vision, the helicopter would have gone unnoticed. The helicopter pitched forward drastically and accelerated toward the East. Erik was heading in the general direction of the chopper, and knew he would pass through that area. Something was there, his insides told him, something that he knew he wouldn't want to see.

  He moved quickly through the treetops, covering two miles in less than ten minutes. The trees in this area were not nearly as large and it was more difficult to navigate them. He leapt from his perch in a smaller evergreen and touched down on the forest floor. He moved through the dense forest, leaping over saplings and briar patches as he moved closer to his position.

  It was then that he picked up the scent. It was faint at first, but his senses amplified it to a powerful, overwhelming stench. It was a scent he had smelled before, in the jungles of Columbia and Peru, as well as the desert of Iraq. It was the scent of death and blood, the scent of butchered bodies and mangled flesh.

  Erik freed the staff from its pouch, it responded to its owner by emitting an eerie whine as it elongated to a length of almost seven feet. He closed cautiously, expecting the worst. He then saw, at a distance, the gruesome carnage that was the result of the Seelak attack: Ten soldiers literally ripped apart. The ground was covered with blood and entrails from the soldiers. Black flies and maggots had already begun gathering to feast on the corpses whose limbs were torn from sockets and tossed randomly about the scene of death. Erik could smell the traces of sulfur from gunpowder, and spent brass casings littered the ground.

  As he continued to move through the area, he spotted the telltale bright glowing blue fluid from the creatures that had nearly killed him. He knelt down and probed the fetid stuff with a metallic fingertip. He lifted the substance to his nose and took a quick sniff. The blood scent imprinted itself on him now. His heightened sense of smell would now be able to filter out all other pheromone substance and lock on this particular spoor. He would track this creature like a bloodhound, after he got his daughter. It was obvious that the creatures were out hunting the scouting parties.

  Erik knew that this would make his job of retrieving his daughter that much easier, he would not have to contend with the creatures during his rescue attempt. He only hoped that the remaining soldiers in the woods would not meet the fate of their fallen comrades.

  He looked further to the west, up the sloping woodlands, and continued his long journey.

  * * * *

  Major Ross had received visual conformation from Eyes Two: D Company had been massacred. The tally so far was up to twenty soldiers, and still the creatures were at large.

  The distance between the two groups of men was quite sizeable; Ross estimated that the creatures had to be moving at least 30 kilometers per hour to attack both groups within the time span that the reports had come in. He had no idea how any creatures could move that fast in such dense terrain. His soldiers could barely walk through the denser portions of the woodlands and had to frequently cut pathways for themselves. He knew higher up that the thickets would clear out, but his men had to get into the upper elevations without being massacred like sitting ducks. One of the larger groups was now navigating an abandoned logging road that led in the general direction of their search.

  “I want voice contact with these groups every five minutes,” the Major demanded. “Can our choppers provide any air cover for those men?” he asked his subordinate.

  “Negative, sir. The foliage canopy is too thick. We'd have sporadic visuals, even by the old logging road. That's why we can't use them for overhead recon either.”

  “Damn!” The Major studied the groups on the map and adjusted the location pins to account for the new groupings. “We're getting massacred.”

  * * * *

  Corporal Novacs felt slightly better after joining up with the other patrol. They were now twenty strong, and moving along a relatively unobstructed log road. They were moving at a slow pace, several eyes and muzzles peering into the treetops, while others scanned the perimeter all around them.

  Novacs didn't like this scenario. It went against all his battlefield experience. When the enemy has the knowledge of the terrain, ford up and take cover; make them come to you. Novacs was a patient man, he knew that these things would eventually seek them out, as it did the other two parties. Moving in the open, exposed as they were, was not very battle-savvy, but necessary when looking for a missing person. He felt naked and vulnerable.

  Novacs glanced over his shoulder at Sparks. The young soldier was visibly sweating. “Easy, bro',” Novacs whispered to his friend. “We'll get outta here if we can just keep our heads together.”

  Sparks grinned sheepishly, embarrassed that his discomfort was that visible. “I'm cool, man. Just keepin’ mah eyes peeled for any unwelcome visitors,” he answered in his heavy Southern drawl.

  The woods around them suddenly echoed with the sound of wood crackling and splintering. The group looked about wildly before realizing that a large evergreen was falling directly toward them.

  “Scatter,” Novacs screamed as he saw the large tree plummeting earthward toward their position.

  In his haste, Novacs lost his footing and fell face-first into the ground. As he spun around, he saw the main body of the tree as it fell upon him and several other men who were not quick enough to avoid it. Novacs shrieked with pain as a branch shattered his leg and pinned him beneath its awesome weight.

  In the distance, he heard a shriek; he knew it was Sparks. Then, he heard a growl, a growl that made him forget his pain and replace it with abject terror. He saw a pair of eyes looking in through the boughs and branches to where he was. He heard the sniffing that the great cat-like beast made as it pawed the tree limbs, trying to get at him.

  There was gunfire and darkness. He heard more screams and heard the sickening sound of bones being broken. He held on to his rifle, keeping the muzzle pointed outward, ready to fire upon any threat.

  The darkness was like a thick veil of black; it was nearly impossible to see anything. There was an occasional muzzle flash that lit up the darkness followed by a bright line of tracers, then more darkness and mayhem. One of the soldiers, who had taken cover behind a large outcropping, managed to ignite a flare. He tossed it into the darkness and illuminated the hellish scene. Over half of the soldiers were dead, and three others were pinned under the large tree, but now their attackers were visible. Four M-16s fired in unison, scoring several hits upon their adversaries. The creatures hissed and shrieked with rage as bullets impacted against their bodies. The large cat rushed one of the soldiers, who continued firing up to the moment that the great creature swatted him down with one of its massive paws.

  From his position under the tree, Novacs listened intently, as each separate sound of gunfire was eliminated with the death scream of a member of their party. Finally, there was only one left standing. Novacs heard the clicking of the M-16's trigger, but that was all; the poor soul had no more ammunition. He shuddered as he heard the soldier's cries of pain and torture. The creatures were playing with him, slowly torturing the man as if to satisfy some demented, masochistic need for inflicting pain and suffering. He heard the soldier gurgling, as blood slowly filled his lungs

  Please, please no more. Just end it.

  Novacs heard a sickening crunch of bone then the telltale thud of a body hitting the ground. Their party had been wiped out in a matter of minutes; twenty men, armed with state-of-the-art rifles, had been literally decimated. How could they live through all that fire? Something in his gut told him that he would be next.

  He heard the creatures moving throughout the tree fall, dispatching his trapped comrades. He prayed that they would forget about him and move on to something, or someone, else. He heard a strange sound and looked up. He saw blood-red eyes looking back at him from a tree limb, and saw an inky black claw reaching for his throat. Novacs reached inside his vest and pulled out a high-yield grenade. He pulled the pin and heave
d the explosive in the general direction where the creature was. The thing retreated as the grenade hit the ground. The forest echoed the thundering concussion as the grenade exploded. There was silence, and then Novacs exhaled the breath he had been holding. Everything in the forest was silent. The soldier silently rejoiced. Either he killed the creature or scared it off.

  Something else was coming toward him, it was inky black and serpent-like. He tried to avoid it, but it coiled around him like a python, squeezing him and pulling on him. Novacs’ leg burned like fire from the pain, and he screamed with agony. He felt his shoulder crack as the serpent continued to pull on him. Suddenly, with a sickening snap, Novacs was ripped from under the tree, his leg severed at the knee joint. The feline creature released him from the grip of its tail.

  Novacs was rolling along the ground, his mind reeling from the utter agony of his injury. Dimly, he felt the icy cold grip around his neck. He forced himself to look into the fiery eyes of his captor—eyes that seemed devoid of any compassion or sense of mercy, eyes that seemed all too twisted and cruel. He felt the creature's icy grip increase around his throat. Novacs gathered up the last of his strength and spat into the face of the monstrosity that would surely kill him.

  “Go back to Hell,” he said as the creature ended his life with the simple squeezing of its claw.

  The Seelak tossed Novacs’ corpse and stomped it under its feet for several seconds, shattering the corpse into bloody hamburger. Satisfied that it was no longer a threat, both creatures left the carnage behind and faded into the woods.

  Off in the distance, a cardinal was singing, totally oblivious to the twenty mutilated bodies several feet below its perch.

  * * * *

  Erik paused; he heard gunfire. He was able to isolate the number of different sounds even from this great distance.