Synbat v5

by Bob Mayer

  He turned his massive head from side to side, shaggy long hair drooping to the ground. His nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath of dark air: There it was again, just on the edge of his smell range, coming from the east. Synapses clicked in the bison’s brain as it tried to recall ever smelling that particular odor.

  The bull waited with growing agitation. The smell was getting closer — an incoming tide of danger. Other bulls were aroused, shaken by the old one’s movements. A ripple of unease ran through the herd. Instinctively the mothers pushed their young calves to the center and the males spread out in a semicircle, facing the Trace that ran along the fence on the east side of the range.

  The old bull’s beady eyes narrowed, searching the dark tree line on the far side of the road. Something tentatively left the safety of the darkness and crept out onto the road. Another joined it. The intruders were drawn by the smell of fresh blood from the birth. The bulls began snorting and stomping at the earth, huge horns swinging back and forth.

  The newcomers crossed the road, skulking up to the fence, sensing that the barbwire was the range of their safety. They looked over the thousands of pounds of horned protection between them and the newborn calf.

  Tonight would not be the night. The intruders turned and slunk back into the woods in search of easier prey.

  It took the herd almost an hour to calm down. Soon all but the old one were asleep, the newborn curled up with its mother. The old one walked slowly along the fence. He was troubled. This was something bad and he didn’t like it. He knew that those predators would be back.

  10:15 P.M.

  Riley put his team on 50 percent alert. There was a long night ahead and tomorrow would be a critical day. His men needed rest. He doubted that the Synbats would attack Search Base, but at this point he was past trying to figure out what they would and would not do.

  He’d received Kate’s last message from Powers when the NCO had returned to the base camp after his adventure at the cliffs. Although Ward was no longer an issue, Merrit certainly was. How much of what she said could be believed? Riley hadn’t been overly impressed with the videotape. Although it was certainly possible that the Synbats had been trying to trick Merrit into opening the cages, it was more likely that she had overreacted. Riley shook his head. The issue wasn’t Merrit; the issue was the Synbats. He needed to concentrate on what he knew for sure.

  He lay back on his rucksack outside the glow of the lights at the TOC and took stock of the situation. About half of the re-enactors had been moved out, but there were stragglers here and there. It was also unknown how many other people were still in the park. Tomorrow would be the big clear-out and then tomorrow night the shoot.

  It was all looking too easy. The Synbats had been one step ahead of him from the start, mainly because he’d thought of them as animals, never as intelligent opponents. Now that he knew the truth, it was time to correct that operational fault. To anticipate the enemy’s moves was a tenet of operational planning. Riley decided to review the facts in his mind, see how they fit together, then try to project a course of action for the Synbats.

  As he started to concentrate, a figure appeared in the darkness. “We need to talk.”

  Riley unwrapped himself from his poncho liner and followed Colonel Hossey over to the DIA van. A single man sat at the communications console, monitoring it. A small figure bundled in a blanket in a chair was the object of Hossey’s search. He tapped her on the shoulder, waking her. “We need to talk to you.”

  “Stop!” she cried out. Merrit blinked the sleep out of her eyes. “Another contact with the Synbats?”

  Hossey led the way to the door. “No. I want to discuss what’s going on. Let’s go outside and talk.”

  The sky had cleared up somewhat and a few stars poked through. The weather report called for intermittent showers through Saturday. The temperature was down into the low fifties and Riley could see his breath puffing as they talked.

  Hossey started out with the one remaining question Riley had about the past events. “How did the Synbats escape?”

  Merrit looked at Hossey, then glanced around furtively. She spoke in a low whisper. “There was a power failure on Sunday night — actually early Monday morning. In response to the loss of primary power, the security guard lowered the status on the containment on the Synbats. Then those three escapees that Colonel Lewis is using for his cover story arrived at the lab. I don’t know why, but they killed the security guard and then broke into the lab. We found all three of their bodies the next morning. The security guard was gone, but they found his body in a van driven by the sister of one of the escapees.”

  “Shit!” Riley exclaimed. “You mean you already had four dead people when we showed up here Monday morning?”

  Merrit moved closer. “The security guard was killed by the convicts, but the three of them were killed by the Synbats.”

  “Great. That’s just fucking great.” Riley clenched his fists. He wanted to hit someone or something very badly.

  “We thought the collars had terminated them by the time you showed up,” Merrit reminded him.

  Riley closed his eyes and did a slow count to ten, trying to control his anger. He knew that Merrit was not responsible for making the decision to withhold information from his team.

  Hossey summed it up. “So right now the Synbats have killed a whole bunch of people and we’ve managed to get only one of them, losing a helicopter in the process.”

  Riley pointed at the TOC. “Doesn’t anybody in there realize that it isn’t just luck that these things have been a step ahead of us the whole time? The Synbats have had some sort of plan, while we’ve been pulling stuff out of our hat in reaction to them.”

  Merrit was confused. “I thought you had a plan now.”

  Hossey tried to make her understand. “We do, but we’re still leaving a lot of initiative up to the Synbats. I’ve tried telling General Trailers that it isn’t as simple as it appears, but he sees it differently. He feels that the attack on the Civil War re-enactors was a sign of desperation because Sergeant Major Powers flushed them out of their lair. Trailers thinks they’re on the run now. What do you think about the attack on the re-enactors?”

  Merrit was quiet for a few moments. “I don’t think they would have attacked without a purpose. Every move they’ve made so far had a reason. I think they probably considered the re-enactors part of the force that was after them and attacked to strike back. Those men were armed and acting in a military manner. I think it’s reasonable to assume that the Synbats couldn’t tell the difference between real and simulated.”

  “But the bottom line is that they are intelligent creatures, right? And they know they’re being hunted,” Hossey interjected, cutting to the heart of the matter.

  “There’s no doubt of that,” Merrit replied.

  “As intelligent creatures who want to survive, what do you think they will do now?”

  “They have to find a new lair. They’ll need a source of food for the young and someplace to hide for several days at least.”

  “Then the plan for tomorrow should work?” Hossey wanted to know.

  Merrit shook her head. “I really don’t know. They know they’re being chased, but they certainly can’t know the extent of the net around them. As I said before, I think they will try to hide. They already did that once at the cliffs.”

  “What about escape?” Riley asked.

  “To where?” Merrit replied.

  “I don’t know.” Riley thought for a few seconds. “Maybe we ought to go look at the cliff where they were hiding and get an idea of what they were doing. That might help us figure out where they might try to hide next.”

  Hossey quickly warmed to that idea. “We’ll send you in at first light.”

  10:30 P.M.

  The regiment’s horses had broken free of their picket line during all the commotion earlier in the evening and disappeared. Now the army people were telling them to vacate the area immediately and go
home. Louis spent a fruitless five minutes arguing with some army major. He was damned if he’d leave behind eight valuable horses, six of which weren’t even his.

  The major had been sympathetic but unyielding. He gave Louis a vague promise that they’d be notified when the park was reopened after the escapees were captured, and then they could come back in and recover their animals. When Louis had asked when that might be, so he could decide whether to stay in the area or go home, the officer had told him to go home.

  “Fuck it,” Louis muttered. He turned to Jeremiah. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They walked back to the main parking area where their rig was parked. The brothers slid the ramp into their trailer and shut the back doors, making it ready for travel. They got in the cab and Louis started the engine.

  “You ready?” he asked. He received no response at all from his brother. Jeremiah had not uttered a word since the attack. As far as Louis was concerned, the sooner they got home the better. The army was full of shit about the escaped prisoners too. Why the hell would escaped prisoners have been up in the trees? And there had been something weird about those “escapees” from the faint glimpses he’d had of them. They hadn’t looked quite normal. Louis didn’t envy the regimental commander who had volunteered to fly up to Chicago out of Nashville and notify the families of the four dead men.

  They followed the army guides who waved them out of the camp and onto Lick Creek Road. Army vehicles, machine guns mounted on top and headlights blazing, were parked all along the road. Louis reached the Trace at the Golden Pond Visitor Center, then followed a soldier’s lighted baton and turned right onto Route 68.

  At the bridge over Lake Barkley, roadblocks manned by army personnel were set up in center span, blocking any traffic from going out. On the far side of the bridge, the Kentucky State Police had roadblocks facing the other way. Passing the last of the army people, Louis breathed a sigh of relief. He could see helicopters with searchlights flying over the water on either side of the lake. They were damn serious about sealing off the park.

  They rolled through Cadiz, then headed east along 68; at 1-24 they would turn north for home. Louis decided to drive straight through and get his brother away from this place as fast as possible.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Wednesday, 8 April

  LAND BETWEEN THE LAKES

  4:12 A.M.

  Three shadowy figures were standing in the tree line, two with something on their backs. Merrit knew she should be feeling fear but for some reason she didn’t. Instead she felt almost peaceful. She started walking across the grass toward them, her hands held high, indicating that she didn’t have a weapon and meant no harm. The Synbats held their position, their golden eyes unblinking.

  Merrit wanted to talk, but she knew they wouldn’t understand the words. How could she explain what was happening anyway? They were the hunted and she was one of the hunters. The Synbats finally moved, slowly turning to head back into the deep darkness of the forest. Merrit halted where she was. They all disappeared, except one, which looked over its shoulder at her. She stared. It was no longer a Synbat but a human face — a man. She recognized the face with a start; it was her father. She started walking toward him, drawn by something beyond her control. As she got closer he changed back into the Synbat and the mouth was wide open, fangs bared. She turned and ran.

  Robin Merrit almost fell off the chair as she awoke, her head jerking up from the desktop where it had been resting. She was damp with perspiration. Her unfocused eyes swept over to the door of the van, half expecting to see her father standing there. As the fuzz faded from her vision, she recognized Colonel Lewis silhouetted against the glow of lights from the communications console.

  “Are you OK?”

  Merrit blinked. “Yes.”

  “You cried out. Get some more sleep. I talked with Colonel Hossey. You’ll be going in with Riley at first light to look over the lair at the cliff.”

  “All right.” As Merrit lowered her head, thoughts of the Synbats filled her mind.

  7:27 A.M.

  “Tango Two Seven, are you in place? Over.”

  “This is Two Seven. Roger. We’ve got you covered. Over.”

  Riley swung his arm over his head, toward shore. The four Zodiacs pulled on line, an M60 machine gunner in each prow, covering the advance. Three other Zodiacs, with men from another team, stayed offshore to give supporting fire if needed. Two A teams were positioned on top of the cliff to give covering fire and stop any Synbats that might try to escape in that direction, if by some chance they had returned to their lair.

  Overhead, General Williams was flying in his command and control (C & C) Blackhawk helicopter, monitoring the radio net. Riley had a PRC-77 strapped to his back, with the headset tied off to the front of his combat vest on the left shoulder.

  He reached up with his left hand and pressed the transmit button. “We’re moving in. Over.”

  There were no signs of Synbats as the boats beached and Riley’s team secured the area. He had his men clear fifty meters in each direction, making sure that at least the level ground was free of the creatures. The Synbats could be hiding on the rock face, but he had to count on the men in the boats and on top of the cliff to take care of that.

  Satisfied that he had a relatively safe beachhead, Riley pressed the transmit button on the handset. “Clear down here. Bring in Merrit. Over.”

  A fifth Zodiac beached. Doctor Merrit stepped off, and Riley and Powers greeted her. The sergeant major pointed. “The dead horses are up here. We removed the woman’s body last night. She was found over there.”

  They moved to the base of the cliff. Riley pulled out a machete and hacked at the undergrowth, gradually revealing more of the horses.

  He noted that Merrit was either getting used to the sight of death or she was detaching herself from reality as she spoke. “The four Synbats that escaped were very cunning. I’d guess they drove the horses from the campsite where the Werners were killed to this point, then off the cliff face. Then they must have split. You chased two of them to the west, but the other two must have stayed here, hoping they’d escape the search. In fact, the two you chased were probably a diversion to lead you away. I’m sure they kept both sets of pods here.” She bent over the horses, the stench apparently not affecting her, and pointed. “Look at these cuts in the rib cage. I think they planned on planting the pods inside the horses’ bodies. That would ensure an adequate supply of food when the pods hatched, at least for a while, even if the other two had to leave this location and lead you away if need be.”

  The radio squawked. “This is Tango Two Seven. We’re going over the edge. Over.”

  Riley looked up as ropes were thrown over the lip of the cliff. Men with submachine guns slung over their shoulders backed over the edge and slowly started rappelling their way down, sticking the snout of their guns in every crack and crevice that could possibly hide a Synbat.

  Riley doubted they’d find anything, but it was worth checking out. He returned his attention to the base. “Since we took this site away from them, what do you think they’ll do now? Find a similar area and do the same thing?”

  Merrit nodded. “Their primary concern will be a food source for the young. Although they are omnivorous, they will most likely be looking for meat, because that would be the most readily available food source in quantity.”

  Riley pulled out his map and spread it on the ground, squatting down and looking it over. “Where would you go if you needed meat, Dan?”

  Powers knelt next to him. “Plenty of deer out here.”

  “But they’d have to hunt it. I don’t think they can run down a deer, and I’m sure they won’t use their weapons for that. It would give away their position.” Riley shook his head. “No, I’m talking something easier than that.”

  Powers stabbed a thick finger down on the map. “I’d go there.”

  5:34 P.M.

  The day passed with aircraft and humvees traversing the park
with loudspeakers, advising all people to leave the area. The exodus slowed to a trickle by afternoon. For the past two hours, all the roadblocks had reported negatively when asked if people were still leaving. There had been no sign of the Synbats throughout the day. No sightings, no trails, no contacts — nothing.

  General Williams was fighting his primary battle not with the Synbats but with the news media, who were gathering like locusts around the perimeter, demanding to know what was going on. Two news helicopters from Nashville had tried penetrating the aerial perimeter and been turned back by gunships. The cover story was holding so far, although there had been interviews with some of the Civil War re-enactors, which had confused the situation somewhat.

  The thump of helicopter blades echoed across the sky and a flight of OH-6 Special Operations helicopters flew by. The single-rotor helicopters were flown by the Nightstalkers — members of Special Operations Task Force 160. The two-man aircraft had advanced night vision and thermal sights on board and a 7.62mm mini-gun slung off one skid. For tonight’s mission, the aircraft would fly in pairs, searching the area in a grid pattern that the operations officer had spent the entire day carefully laying out. Come dark, they would fire on any two-legged, two-armed image that didn’t have fluorescent tape marking it as friendly.

  6:54 P.M.

  Powers scanned the pasture. The bison were stirring. The disturbance started from the far side and spread until the entire herd was alert. As Powers watched, the animals gathered together in a tight defensive perimeter, as far from the fences as they could get, the massive males on the outside, the females and the young on the inside.

  The radio was a low, annoying buzz in his ear as the TOC coordinated the various elements that would begin the aerial search in six minutes. Powers and his team were hidden on a small hill overlooking the buffalo range. They’d been there for six hours, ever since Powers and Riley had convinced Colonel Hossey that the penned-in animals would make a tempting target for the Synbats and that the abandoned barn on the side of the field might make a good hideout for the creatures. Powers felt more worthwhile waiting here than sitting around at the TOC.