by Ballan, Greg
The Apache simply hovered over the area, as if surveying the results of its handy work. Erik stood, still holding his shield low to protect the children. The campsite was nothing but a vast crater of fire and burning embers. He guessed that the tunnel had been completely destroyed, forever concealing the bodies that were left there. The helicopter fired several rockets into the now devastated campsite in some odd attempt to wreak even more carnage. Then it veered off toward the tunnel location. Erik counted twelve separate salvos fired and twelve successive impacts from the smaller, yet still lethal, rockets.
Everyone was quiet as they watched the huge gunship slowly bank around back toward the campsite. They were completely exposed. The ship paused roughly 100 yards from them. Erik could sense the astonishment as the pilot spotted them. Children, into the forest quickly. Drag Lisa, but get out of here now. Erik and the helicopter pilot continued to stare at each other across the vacant, smoldering dust bowl that used to be the Pendelcorp mining campsite.
The children dragged Lisa Reynolds behind them, each passing second allowing them to get deeper into the forest cover. Erik suddenly sensed danger, his enhanced vision focused on the massive chain gun suspended on the nose of the ship. He knew that the gun was now pointing at him. He slowly backed away, hoping he too could make it into the cover before the pilot overcame his surprise of finding people up here.
Erik deliberately kept his body between the children and the helicopter; he prayed that they had found a hiding place behind some dense tree growth. His enhanced body reacted before he even was aware: his shield lifted and his body assumed a defensive stance. The helicopter opened fire on him and he felt the impact as the heavy rounds tore into his shield. The hailstorm of bullets lasted for nearly ten full seconds. His shield deflected every round and burning tracer that the ship threw at him. He could see the look of total shock and disbelief on the pilot's face.
He heard a high pitch whine in one of the Apaches rocket pods, and quickly continued a cautious withdrawal. He heard the light thud as two rockets leapt from its pylon and sped toward him. The rockets detonated against the shield, sending Erik hurtling backwards, landing in a motionless heap on the forest floor. The children shrieked in fear and ran, terrified, deeper into the woods.
The helicopter, its munitions nearly all spent, rose into the sky and departed, leaving the children alone in the middle of thousands of acres of woodlands.
* * * *
Pilot Phil Rappola banked his Apache helicopter ninety degrees, and eased the control yoke back. The ship responded by gracefully lifting itself above the tree line.
He glanced back at the fallen man with wonder. “Where in the hell did you come from?” he muttered to himself.
He had never experienced anything like what had just occurred in the past few minutes. A man with silver body armor and a silver shield, Phil assumed that it was some sort of military prototype battle suit. He had to admit that it was impressive looking. The alloy in the silver disc had to be some unique titanium Kevlar composite to withstand the full onslaught of an M61A Vulcan Cannon. Even his high-yield, armor-piercing rocket was unable to pierce the odd metallic barrier. Phil decided that he would make some inquiries with his Black Market contacts and see if they had any such knowledge of such unusual equipment.
He circled back over the body at an altitude of several hundred feet and spotted the children making their way back into the blasted clearing toward the fallen man. He knew that he was under orders to eliminate everything up here, but even Phil Rappola had some lines he wouldn't cross, and butchering children was beyond even his mercenary ethics.
He radioed an all clear to his employer, utilizing the appropriate frequency, and then activated the ship's dual turbines and left the region as fast as his helicopter could take him. He maxed the rpm's on the craft's two engines, reaching a top speed of over 350 miles per hour.
He knew that the Army wouldn't have had sufficient time to call in any further air support, and that they would not risk the third Bell Striker that was now hovering at a station-keeping position at the base of the incline. He left the area unchallenged, hoping and praying that he would not encounter an F-16 Fighting Falcon or an F-15 Eagle.
He knew his Apache was a formidable weapon against ground-based personnel and vehicles, as well as other choppers, but it was no match for the superior power and speed of a modern fighter plane. Rappola also knew that there were fighter squadrons based nearby that could reach him before he could make good on his planned escape route. As fast as his ship was, it seemed to be moving too slow for his comfort at this point.
He had been flying for several minutes, growing more at ease with each passing mile, when the guidance computer on the ship went black. He struggled with the controls, and to his horror discovered that he was no longer in control of the aircraft. The ship gradually changed its heading, as if acting on its own accord, and began to head out toward the Atlantic. Rappola tried a sequential restart of the navcomm computer, but received no response. He tried to reboot the flight control center, but failed in that task as well. The ship was flying itself, and he was now a prisoner. Rappola cursed and swore savagely as he tried desperately to regain control of the ship.
He knew his only alternative was to eject from the ship. He looked into the evacuation cabinet of the helicopter, but found it had been stripped of all rescue and emergency equipment.
“Damn it!” he screamed, pounding on the control board in frustration.
He knew what was going to happen to him. He'd been set up; there would be no payoff, no big score. His reward for cleaning up Pendelcorp's mess was a one-way ticket to eternity at the bottom of the ocean. Rappola became irrational, and angry. It was perhaps his savage anger that caused him to draw his pistol and discharge several rounds into the helicopter's computer systems.
To his misfortune, his third shot shorted out the timing mechanism that would send a burst of electricity to the concealed charges placed on the gunship's fuel tanks. A spark of current was freed and traveled through the wires. The ensuing explosion rained down fiery bits of helicopter through the residential suburbs outside Boston. Rappola's anger had only brought his eventual death that much sooner.
* * * *
Brianna had not moved from her father's side for five minutes. She had opened one of his eyelids, only to see that his eyes were now a dark inky blue, not the luminous fiery aqua blue she had seen earlier lighting up the darkness in the cave.
“Daddy,” she whispered as she held his cold metallic hand. “Please don't die, don't leave us alone out here; those things will surely find us again.”
She felt a slight movement in the hand she was holding. The dark cold blue eyes slowly began to flutter, and as they blinked, they began to glow with aqua luminescence.
* * * *
Slowly, the Hybrid, Erik Knight, recovered from the colossal blows that felled him. He groaned, his alien vocal chords making strange inhuman sounds as he sat up. He looked up at his daughter, and she offered him her hand, doing what she could to assist him as he slowly stood.
Erik had been in several full contact fights, fights for his life, and taken hundreds of blows and impacts to his body, but all of that paled in comparison to absorbing the impact of the two rockets that hit him. He glanced down at his right arm, the shield still in place, molded to his forearm. He knew if he were human, his body would now be scattered across the ground, charbroiled in little pieces.
He looked down at his daughter, saw the look of concern etched in her innocent face. I'm fine, Munchkin. Is everyone in one piece? The other children looked up at him with amazement and wonder
Each child either nodded or grunted.
Where is Lisa?
“Behind a big tree, over there.” Brianna pointed.
Erik looked over what had once been a Pendelcorp base of operations. There was literally nothing left except a burning crater. The missiles used in the attack were devastating in their efficiency. Everything was wiped o
ut, not even a shred of incriminating evidence remained.
They all walked cautiously back into the desolate campground. Nothing but scorched earth and charred, burning wood remained. Everything for over 100 yards had been blasted into a crater, with the exception of a small six-foot circle of land where Erik had used his shield to protect himself and the children.
“Why, Mr. Knight?” one of the children asked.
Erik looked down at the young boy, his pupiless blue eyes blazing. To hide the evidence. Wipe out all the loose ends.
Erik's staff resumed its standard shape, and he willed the weapon to reduce its size further. He placed the weapon back in its satchel. “Thank You," he whispered to the staff in the harsh Esper tongue, not knowing if it understood or was capable of understanding what those words of gratitude meant.
As he secured the weapon in place, it purred, almost with affection. Erik glanced down at it then slowly begun guiding the children on the long walk out of the woods. He led the group to where Lisa Reynolds was laying and gently picked up the girl.
We've got a good hike in front of us; let's all stay together. He started to escort them down the mountainside.
Erik paused. He heard the sound of rotor blades; another helicopter was coming, the pitch of the engine was different and he knew immediately that it was not the same ship that had attacked him before. He and the children watched carefully, safely concealed behind some giant tree falls. The third Bell Striker touched down in the middle of the burned-out crater. Three soldiers disembarked and began surveying the destruction. Erik knew exactly what had to be done. The helicopter could take the children down the mountain in scant minutes, where it would take him until early the next morning walking. He knew that Lisa Reynolds needed immediate medical attention and the soldiers could provide it.
Children, go to them. They'll get you to safety quicker than I can. Tell them Lisa is back here; I'll stay with her until they come over.
Three of the children broke from their cover and ran for the helicopter, shouting and waving their hands. Erik felt a huge burden lifted from him as the soldiers spotted the three children and quickly ushered them into the helicopter. Two of the soldiers turned and headed to where Erik and his daughter were hidden.
I have to go now, Baby. You'll be safer with them.
“No, Daddy!” she pleaded through tear-stained eyes. “I wanna stay here, with you.”
You can't, I have to face those creatures, Bri; I have to stop them. I can't put you in that kind of danger. He pointed to the still sleeping body of Lisa Reynolds. She needs you right now.
Brianna looked up at her father, her little eyes still streaming with tears, and nodded.
Erik looked down at her and smiled. You'll always be my princess. He removed the dog tags from around his neck, and gently placed them on his daughter. You were holding these for me before, please keep them safe.
The footsteps of the soldiers were audible now, and Brianna turned toward the sound. When she turned back, her father was gone.
Erik watched from the top of a large red oak as the soldiers carried his daughter and Lisa Reynolds into the helicopter. He focused his vision on his daughter. He could see her looking into the forest, her fist clenching the dog tags he had given her. He saw her bid him a final goodbye as she was carried into the helicopter and the door closed behind her.
The Striker's rotors spun quickly, and the ship slowly eased from the ground, carrying its precious cargo to the safety of home. He knew what his next move had to be. Somewhere out in this expanse of woodlands, two creatures loomed.
He recalled the general direction from which he had heard the earlier disturbance. He walked deeper into the woodlands toward that direction. Erik easily leapt twenty feet up into an adjacent oak tree and perched upon a massive limb. He quickly spotted another tree limb some several yards away and leapt to that one.
Covering several yards with each leap, the Hybrid moved through the wooded canopy, hunting for a trace or sign of the two creatures that had nearly killed him earlier. He vowed to himself that their next meeting would be different. The next time they met, only he would live to walk away. That was how it had to be, the very fate of humanity depended on the outcome of his private duel.
* * * *
The cheers erupted like wildfire when word reached the command post that the children, including a child assumed to be kidnapped earlier, had all been recovered.
The Major was quietly puffing away on a cigar, leaning back in his chair. He had ordered a recall of all their men out of the Hopedale parklands. He was reading a report concerning the fate of the helicopter that had downed two of his ships. Something very big was going on up there, big enough for someone to risk blowing a 400-foot crater on the top of Hopedale Mountain to destroy any lingering evidence, then destroy a multimillion-dollar weapons platform to keep the pilot quiet. Ross knew there would be an extensive investigation as to what actually occurred, but he knew that this would eventually be filed as an unsolved mystery.
The Major found it difficult to believe the children could just wander out of the woods waiting to be rescued; there were definitely some missing pieces of information. They would need to debrief each child, away from any other authorities, to find out what really went on up there. Ross figured that within the hour he'd have all the information that he needed.
He was thankful that the children were safe, yet that did not rectify their secondary mission objective: destroy the creatures that inhabited the mountain. This piece of their mission objective was, thus far, an abject failure. Major Ross was a man who didn't take to failure.
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* * *
Chapter 16
Hopedale Mountain, 6:30 p.m.
The small fires had burned themselves out, and the dust and ashes had finally settled around the top of Hopedale Mountain. The damage caused by the missile and rocket barrage was devastating. There was no trace that a campsite ever existed, and the ridgeline over the tunnel had sagged slightly, indicating that the tunnel had completely collapsed upon itself due to the devastating impact of the Typhoon missile.
An inky blotch appeared in the middle of the newly formed crater, and two creatures emerged from the spilling darkness. They took several small steps as the portal closed behind them. Each creature looked around, trying to understand what had happened to the forest that was there only hours ago. The smell of soldiers was still evident in the soil, as was the smell of the children they had abducted. Both creatures made their way ominously toward the tunnel entrance.
They stopped, looking at the devastation that now existed where their tunnel once stood. The large cat-like creature sniffed the fallen dirt and debris, and began pawing at the rock and soil that now occupied the tunnel space. The cat began tunneling deeper into the collapsed tunnel, only to have its work filled in by a small cave-in. The creature shook itself free of the fallen debris and howled with frustration as it pawed its way out of the freshly fallen rock and earth.
They had lost access to their home, and the Seelak had lost its eggs—eggs that would eventually fully crystallize if not attended regularly. The Seelak was enraged; somehow the primates were able to remove the cavern cover and free the small things.
It returned to the spot where it first picked up the scent of the soldiers. It sampled the air. There was something else, something it hadn't smelled for thousands of years. It moved to a small patch of unscorched earth, lying in the middle of all the destruction like a desert oasis. It inhaled the air molecules over this area, and knew immediately that its ancient enemy had returned. It knew the smell of Esper, but this Esper contained an all too familiar accompanying scent as well: the Hybrid. The Hybrid was still alive. Somehow it survived the brutal thrashing they had given him. Not only was the Hybrid alive, but it had undergone a change. The smell of Esper dominated its spoor, no longer a trace scent in the background.
The felenoid smelled the same patch and growled, its growl growing int
o a full-blown roar of anger and frustration. It, too, recognized the enemy. The Seelak joined its ally in a howl of pure unbridled hatred and aggression.
The scents of the Hybrid and children confirmed something else in the Seelak's limited intellectual capability. One of those children was a hybrid offspring. The Seelak's imprinted genetic code triggered: Kill all Espers. The Esper must die, and the primates who destroyed its nest must die. It would kill the Esper's offspring, as its children had been killed, and kill anything that got in its way.
The Seelak wandered over to a nearby tree and ripped of chunks of bark and wood with one swipe of its razor-sharp claws. It gestured toward its ally, and they both headed off into the forest, back down to the town—back to spread death and dismemberment to those who had destroyed its home and its eggs.
* * * *
Richard sat in his office in total shock at his good fortune. The first phone call from his Nextel wireless confirmed the total and absolute destruction of the tunnel and campsite. The call his wife had just received moments ago was from the police; their daughter had been rescued, and was ferried by helicopter to the command center outside of Hopedale Mountain. Margaret was gathering some things for their daughter, and the two were preparing to head for the Army operations base to claim their child. The third turn of good fortune Richard received was from a news wire. The helicopter that assaulted the Army air ships had blown apart and was scattered over several acres of suburban property. Apparently, the pilot had tried to interfere with the programming and caused the craft's destruction earlier than had been planned.
Despite that one miscalculation, everything went according to plan. Pendelcorp and its owner were virtually free and clear of any wrong doing and could in no way be implicated in any of the mess that had occurred up in the high country of Hopedale Mountain. Yes, it was a good turn of events for Richard Pendelton: no guilt, no fines, no prison term, and no Erik Knight to interfere with his plans for his family.
