Stroud had no idea who the poor bastard was. Then Stroud saw Ashyer lying in a heap near the back of the cage. Lou and some of the others found Stroud as he shouted, "Jesus! Ashyer!" Stroud ran for the stairs, praying he could get to Ashyer in time, praying the monster would continue to feed on its first kill before going for his servant.
Stroud took the stone stairwell two and three at a time, shouting Ashyer's name out, trying desperately to rouse the unconscious figure.
Something like a hand pushing at him in his sleep had roused Stroud, and he sensed now that it had been the ghost of his grandfather. He fell coming down the stairs, got to his feet and pushed through the half-opened door. Kerac's eyes looked up at him with the venom clearly sparking fire there. He was watching Stroud's every twitch, every gesture, and Stroud sensed that if he tried for Ashyer without a diversion, Kerac would surely tear into him, just to spite Stroud. For the moment, Kerac still held the limp, blood-gushing body of his first victim. The animal's snout was red with Gwinn's insides. Parts of Gwinn had been ripped off and pulled through the bars.
Stroud made a show of trying to help the intruder, but below his feet lay the key, so Stroud made for this, coming dangerously close to being grabbed by Kerac, whose claws cut a swath in Stroud's nightshirt. All the while, Stroud was shouting for Ashyer to get up and get out of harm's way. Cage trundled in at the same instant. Stroud shouted for him to get hold of Ashyer and pull him off as Stroud tempted the monster with himself now as bait. Gwinn's lifeless torso was hurled angrily at Stroud.
Cage pulled Ashyer by the feet away from the monster's reach.
"Get back, Abe!" shouted Cage. "I've got Ashyer!"
Stroud stood his ground, bloodied from the carcass that had been cast at him. He stood eye-to-eye with Kerac, just out of reach of its grasp as the creature tore at him. He could feel the powerful claws as they swiped by his eyes.
"You bastard thing," Stroud said to it. "You're going back to the Hell from which you came. I'll see to that."
Stroud stepped off to the wail of frustration and hatred coming from the creature behind him. "Who is he, which of the men is this fool?"
Some of the white-coated scientists had to give way to Mrs. Ashyer, who pushed through, frantic about her husband. She found him and held his head in her lap, assured by Cage that he was all right. She saw the remains strewn about the concrete floor and walls, but she had seen so much over the years in this manse that she did not scream.
Cage flashed a light onto what was left of the Peregrine. "That's Perry Gwinn, of the Trib in Chicago ... I think."
"Christ, that cuts it. What'll we do with him? Send him home in a box to the city editor?"
Inside the cage Kerac was feeding on one of Gwinn's arms.
"Sedate the damned thing again!" ordered Stroud. "I'm sick of this, Cage. Sick to death."
"I think you'd best call Commissioner Burns," replied Cage. "Let him handle this one."
"Maybe Anna More was right, Lou. Maybe we ought to destroy Kerac while we have him--now, tonight."
"Everybody out," said Lou to the others gaping at the carnage. "Get the dart gun, Harris. See to it the creature is put under so we can get this mess cleaned up."
"If we'd gassed him in Chicago like McMasters said, another man would be alive today," Stroud said, staring back at Gwinn's brutalized remains, half a face and one eye staring back at him.
"This is not your fault, Abe! Gwinn was a fool to come in here and go near that cage! What could have been in the fool's mind? Taking the key, going within reach of that beast?"
Ashyer had come around and he now groaned and said, "Kerac was a man again..."
Stroud knelt down beside Ashyer. "What're you saying, Mr. Ashyer?"
"I saw him ... fully returned ... as a man, and so did this other fellow, the one that hit me, sir. He thought we were holding a man against his will, torturing him, from the look of it. Kerac was filthy, wounds clearly visible, blood-clotted."
"That's the remarkable property about the animal-like blood," said Cage. "Much more effective clotting agents, high concentration of platelets."
"Then Kerac is still alive," said Stroud. "Alive and trapped inside that." Stroud pointed at the snarling monster.
Harris, one of Cage's assistants, had returned with the dart gun. He aimed and fired, the dart striking Kerac in the rump. The creature grabbed at the dart, yanking it out before becoming woozy. In a moment he stumbled, got up and weakly slid along the bars, falling facedown, his bloodied snout poking through the bars.
"It's time we make our move, Lou."
"But we haven't perfected a killing agent, Stroud."
"We go with what we have, the poison--"
"Won't work."
"The silver nitrate."
"You have to give me more time."
"You have until nightfall tomorrow. I'll have assembled a strike force and we'll be on our way to Michigan with Kerac in tow."
"What kind of strike force, Abe?"
"Mercenaries."
"Men you know?"
"I know their leader. We served together in Vietnam."
"I see, and he hasn't quit playing soldier yet?"
Stroud dropped his gaze at this. "Lou, I know of no one I wish to endanger further with this madness, but these men are ready, willing and capable to fight any enemy so long as they are paid well."
"Well, when they see Kerac, they're likely to want double. What about me? You don't intend to leave me behind, do you?"
"No, I'm afraid your services may be needed."
"And Chief More?"
"She's out of it, and I'd like it to stay that way."
"She telephones here daily, asking when, Abe. She's no fool. She'll know, and she has a vested interest."
"I don't want her in harm's way."
"I understand that, but--"
"No more said about it, Lou."
"Well, we have work to do in the lab. Harris," he said to his assistant, "get whatever help you need, clean up here and return to the lab." Cage then poked Abe Stroud with a stern finger and said, "No one could have anticipated this ridiculous reporter's actions. You have no right to blame yourself, Abe."
"Then why do I feel so lousy?" Stroud pushed past him and went up the winding stairs looking like a man defeated.
Sedated, Kerac was being moved by helicopter the following night. Aside from Abraham Stroud's chopper, two combat-ready police helicopters had been flown down from Chicago thanks to Commissioner Burns, but Stroud had handpicked the men he wanted to go in with. He had contacted Earl Saylor. Saylor was a combat veteran with Stroud in Southeast Asia. Together, they had seen a great deal of time in the mud and mire that was the life of a U.S. grunt. Saylor had been on alert status for Stroud even before he left Chicago with Kerac, but Saylor had only an inkling of what he had gotten himself and his men in for. They had only been told that there would be a hunt in Michigan deep woods, and that the enemy could be sizable and very deadly.
Saylor was overseeing the loading of the helicopters now with provisions, supplies, guns and ammo. Stroud had flown Saylor and his men in earlier in the day. Now, for the first time, they were seeing what the enemy looked like.
There were five in the mercenary group and they were familiar with one another. One was a woman who looked as tough as any of the grunts. The others called her "Nails," but her true name was Yolanna Nells. She was of mixed Nicaraguan-Caucasian blood and had survived on her wits and weapons knowledge through the fighting there. She'd tired of the command decisions and drifted north, and had somehow gotten into the States through "military" contacts.
Joe Blue was a "dyed-in-the-blue" soldier of fortune like the others. Blue had a stiletto smile and the eyes of a killer, Stroud thought he looked like some of the murderers he had himself put away for life while he was a police detective in Chicago. One glance at the way Blue hugged a weapon, and it was obvious he loved using it.
Warren Priest was a silent, brooding member of Saylor's little team.
He wore wire-rim glasses, looked as if he'd stepped from the campus at Stanford, except for the fact his face was scarred where he'd been tortured as a POW. His wounds went deep.
Wil Tulley was the largest of the mercenaries, looking like a bear, his arms like giant pistons. He was the picture of the big, dumb soldier with the Neanderthal forehead and deep-set eyes below a bushy, black mane, and yet he was sharp, quick-witted and in tune with Saylor's every whim. Saylor and he had fought now in seven guerrilla actions in places as diverse as the Congo and Colombia, sometimes hiring out to drug lords. They didn't care where the money came from, just so long as they could fight and be paid for the pleasure.
Saylor himself balked at the size and appearance of the quarry, however, when he looked at the prone figure of the sedated wolfman. Kerac was strapped to a stretcher, a syringe at the ready should he suddenly overcome the drug that had silenced him. The mood of the mercenaries was one of awe, wonder and fear, yet they hid their fear well.
"This is what we'll be hunting?" asked Saylor.
Stroud nodded, adding, "As I indicated, we fear there are more. Just how many more is, at this time, anybody's guess. We have a single report that places them at fifty, but it's not a reliable count by any means."
"Fifty?" said Blue. "You hear that, Nails? Maybe we can catch one, send it to Nicaragua, put it on a soapbox and run it for President."
Some of the others laughed. Nails said, "Make sure the one we bring back for my country is a woman, then."
"Damned thing is big," commented Warren Priest, taking down his glasses, squinting at Kerac as the monster was being boarded.
"Bigger'n Tulley!" said Blue.
"Tough as Nails," said Tulley, joining in Blue's fun.
"You better hope that bastard doesn't come to during flight," said Saylor. "Could be havoc in the air!"
"He's havoc wherever he is when fully conscious," said Stroud. "But we've taken precautions." He showed him the hypodermic needle.
Once inside the craft, Stroud showed his friend Saylor the tracking device they would use on Kerac. He explained about the implant.
"Looks good. It's a go, then?"
"We're waiting on something that Dr. Lou Cage is working on--silver nitrate solution. According to Lou, if we douse all our ammo in the nitrate, enough of the poison will solidify around the metal projectile to give us a kind of poison dart for these things. Bullets alone will not bring them down, Earl."
Earl Saylor looked incredulous, but then his eyes went back to the thing in the cargo bay, and he said, "All right, whatever you say, Abe ... or should I call you Doc these days?"
"It's always been Abe with you, Earl."
"Looks like you've done all right since I last saw you, Abe." He indicated the grounds and the house with a nod of his head, the thick, red-to-brown curls falling over his large forehead. "Nice place."
"And you?" asked Abe.
"About same, Abe. You know what drives a man like me..."
"Yeah, I do."
Saylor laughed. "That's why you called me and mine, and we're here to do our usual good work."
They had already worked out the details of payment and how the money would go into an account. Saylor had made it clear that he would not show anywhere until the transaction between their banks had been made.
"I'll see how Lou's coming."
Stroud got out and Kerac let out a deep, guttural moan that froze the various mercenaries in place, causing a couple of gun safeties to be clicked off. "It's all right," said Stroud. "He's under and will be for a few hours."
"I told my people all about what happened to that reporter," said Saylor. "Nothing like that's going to happen with us, Abe. So, sedation or not, you be quick. If this thing rouses--"
"It'll be all right. Just finish provisioning the helicopters."
Saylor turned to his men, seeing the uneasiness in their eyes flit by like a shadow as they tried to conceal it. "Just like any other goddamned bad guys, people!" Saylor shouted, his words sounding rote, but his commanding voice boomed about the little circle of soldiers. "Store those AKs, Nails! Blue, we got more ammo to load! Priest, get off your thumbs!"
Tulley took up the military tone. "You heard the man! Move it! Move it!"
"Just glad we brought all our firepower," said Blue as he went back to work.
"Sure those lightweight bazookas'll bring a sucker like that down, are you?" asked Nails.
"Just watch me!" he replied.
Earl Saylor turned and stared at the restless, moaning creature in the cage that Stroud's people had carried out. It had taken four men to carry it. Saylor saw a fang in the curled snarl where Kerac's head lay perfectly still for a moment before jerking, causing Saylor to gasp and look around to see if any of the others had noticed his reaction. No one had. Saylor then studied the enormous claws and toenails. He had never seen anything like this beast before.
Joe Tulley came alongside him and said, "Whataya think, Earl? Bigfoot?"
"Damned if I know, Joe. But the newspapers get wind of this and they'll call it animal cruelty; Stroud and the rest of us'll be put away if..."
"If we're not killed by the damned thing first, you mean?"
"Imagine an army of these things, Joe ... imagine it."
Stroud had returned within an hour, guiding a pair of encumbered white-coated men, followed by Dr. Louis Cage, who was shouting, "Careful ... very careful with that stuff. You'll need every ounce of it."
The men were carrying a large vat, about as heavy as a ten-gallon fish tank filled with water. Saylor and his men watched, some scratching their heads.
The vat of sloshing, silvery liquid was hoisted into another of the choppers. Saylor asked Stroud what was going on.
"Silver nitrate. We know that ordinary bullets do not slow this creature down, that it somehow absorbs and closes over bullets. But we have reason to believe that silver nitrate, poisonous as it is, will slow it down, or even kill it."
"Then you were serious? You want us to silver-plate every one of our goddamned bullets?"
"As many as possible, as we proceed, yes."
"Sounds crazy, Abe ... but you're the boss man."
"Humor me."
"Consider it done."
"One final thing, Earl, before we leave."
"Yeah?"
"I want you and your men to see a film."
"Film?"
"Of Kerac here."
"I don't get it. We see what we've got here, this Kerac thing as you call it."
"Earl, your men deserve to know exactly what they're fighting ... and what they'll be fighting for. It's imperative."
"Very well." He then shouted to his men to assemble, telling them that a movie was on schedule just for them in the mansion.
Werewolf's Grief (Bloodscreams #2) Page 15
