Primeval egt-5

by David L. Golemon

  "What in the hell is he talking about, Jack?" Everett asked as he was shoved to the ground by a Russian and frisked.

  "It was a setup from the beginning," Collins said as he, too, was shoved to the ground and roughly checked for more weapons. His pistol was tossed away and then for good measure, the large Spetsnaz shoved Jack's face into the dirt.

  "Now, now, we'll have none of that. Our friend here is about to do us a great service. Let's move them across the river to meet the men they came here to meet?"

  "Let me check the professor," Mendenhall said as Farbeaux was shoved into him.

  "I'm afraid there is no use, Lieutenant, he cannot be saved," the Frenchman said. "And for that, I am sorry. I was becoming enamored with that quirky little man."

  "Professor Ellenshaw is where he wanted to be, surrounded by the very forest that occupied his mind for so many years."

  The four men were pushed toward the river. Collins passed close by Alexander and looked at him, but Jack said nothing — his statement on Punchy's future had been made and there was nothing left to add.

  * * *

  Charlie Ellenshaw moaned when he finally came to. His shoulder and the bones beneath hurt in such a way that he knew he had been paralyzed by his stupid action earlier. His line of thinking was a confused one in the moments leading up to his dreadful mistake — what could he do to save the others? Well, he managed to get himself shot and it hadn't made one ounce of difference to his friends, they were now captive and he was as good as dead. He had thought about what the colonel would do, or Captain Everett, if given an opening like he had been given and everything went well until he had decided to act upon his ridiculous thoughts.

  Charlie tried to spit dirt and sand from his mouth, but found even that feeble effort too much for his overly taxed system. As his thoughts swirled around the fact that he was dying, his mind eased somewhat at the prospect. As he lay there he could hear the river and the voices of his killers as they moved about by the water's edge. The sound of a boat motor and then more shouted orders. Ellenshaw took a deep breath and wondered how long it would take to die. His pain had eased somewhat as his mind came to grips with the small factoid that here is where he would stay. At that moment, Ellenshaw realized he was no longer alone in the small clearing. It wasn't so much that he sensed it, but actually felt a heavy thud next to his head. Then he smelled that same gamey odor they had caught on the shifting winds coming from north of the Stikine.

  Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III smiled. Then he thought back to a time when he wasn't in pain, when he still thought the world made some sort of sense, and in his mind he was almost an immortal that summer of '68. His memory came into play and he started in a low and halting voice to sing "Crimson and Clover" by Tommy James and the Shondells. When the words became too much to force out of his mouth, he hummed the verses, thinking he was doing it in his head.

  When he finally ran out of breath, trying to hang on to a good memory from his youth, the song continued to be hummed. The sound was deep, harsh, but it was humming, and had all the nuances of the song from the sixties. He realized that something was mimicking his own version of a moment before. Then the humming stopped and silence permeated the empty camp.

  "I'm ready," Charlie whispered.

  As he said those two words, he felt the ground actually shake and then something touched his tousled hair. As his eyes fluttered open, he felt something tapping on the right lens of his thick glasses. He tried to focus on the large finger and thick black nail as it almost pushed his glasses into his face with the force of the tapping. He heard a grunt and then felt pressure on his back where he thought he had been shot. Something probed his wound, and then the feeling disappeared. Then he heard a smacking sound as if something were tasting him.

  Ellenshaw, repulsed at the idea of being eaten before he had actually passed over to the great beyond, or the last great adventure he had always told his students, tried to turn his head and look up. He managed with a tremendous amount of shaking to get a few inches off the ground. That was when he realized he was looking at the largest foot he had ever seen. As his eyes traveled upward he saw a set of knees as whatever was about to eat him was squatting next to his prone body. He finally managed a few inches more, and then he saw the face that slowly surveyed him from far above, seemingly a mile or so to Charlie's wounded mind.

  "Oh… my," he said as the last vision he thought he would ever see faded to black.

  The great beast rose to its full height of eleven and a half feet. It stood perfectly erect and raised its head and sniffed the air. It grunted deep in its chest and then looked back down at Professor Ellenshaw. The animal held a large wooden club about eight inches in circumference and six feet long. It raised it into the air with its muscled and powerful arm and then savagely swung it at the large tree three feet away, the long arms easily connecting through the distance. The beast struck out six times and then stopped and listened, its long brown and black hair blowing in the breeze that had started a few minutes before. Far off to the north the giant heard a response. It seemed satisfied, sniffing at the air once more. It grunted as it surveyed the area around its massive frame.

  When Charlie moaned, that drew the animal's attention back to the wounded man. With its large self-illuminated brown eyes still watching the woods around it and its small ears listening to the sound of men and their boats leaving the south shore, the great beast reached down and took Ellenshaw by the right leg and lifted him free of the ground as easily as a man would pick up one of his child's toys. With a last grunt the animal turned and left the clearing with Professor Ellenshaw dangling from its grip.

  * * *

  As the Zodiac pulled onto the north shore of the Stikine, Jack, Everett, Mendenhall, and Farbeaux watched as Alexander was the first one out of the boat. He was met by two men, one of average size and one large and brutish looking.

  "Sagli and Deonovich, I presume," Everett whispered, and then he received a sharp poke in the back by an AK-47 from a Russian seated behind him.

  "No talk," the Spetsnaz said in the slow drawl of a man who knew only enough of the Americans language to get by.

  Everett turned and looked at the man as the others started to rise from the boat.

  "No fucky talky English? You piece of shit."

  Everett quickly found out that the man spoke enough to understand the insult and he received a slam of the gun barrel into his kidneys for confirmation.

  Jack grabbed Everett and assisted him out of the boat. Mendenhall was a little slower moving, and that worried Collins somewhat.

  Will felt a set of hands take his arm; it was Farbeaux.

  "In case you didn't know it, Lieutenant, you have a severe concussion."

  "Is that your professional opinion, Colonel?" Will asked as he stepped over the high wall of the rubber boat.

  Jack watched the greeting ahead of them as Punchy shook hands with first Sagli, and then when Deonovich extended his hand, Punchy instead of taking it, raised his .38 again and pointed it right at the face of the large Russian.

  "I think I'll kill you right now for being far too great a fool. You almost killed me twice — as it is you got a very expensive team of my men killed at the fishing camp, and not only that you failed in your mission."

  "How was I to know you were on that aircraft?" Deonovich asked, as his partner Sagli watched the confrontation with interest. We should have been contacted and warned that you were arriving with the enemy to our cause."

  With that, Punchy lowered the weapon. "The only reason you are going to live is the fact that I have accomplished all I set out to do, and as luck would have it I have secured the one man that can finalize our plans." Punchy turned and gestured the Americans' way, eyeing Jack Collins as he did. "Now, have we found what we are looking for?"

  Sagli stepped up and smiled. "Indeed we have, about a mile ahead, either at the plateau or in it. We have waited as per your instructions before claiming it."

  "Not bad. I bel
ieve we can salvage this mess for the better." He looked at the large Deonovich and then the three men walked a few steps away. "Have you sent in another team to take care of that damnable fishing camp? We cannot have them sitting in our rear."

  Sagli looked nervous for the first time since their new partner in crime had arrived. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and then looked into the Canadian's eyes.

  "I sent another attack element back downriver to finalize our exit area."

  "That was very intuitive, comrade," Punchy mocked.

  "I'm afraid there was a reason for doing so other than my intuition, Mr. Alexander. It seems we have lost contact with our helicopter pilots."

  Alexander closed his eyes and then he opened them. "Well, I can fly us out of here if the need arises." He looked around the camp. "However, we may need to lighten the load somewhat," he said looking at his commandos.

  Sagli finally smiled, feeling far better than a moment before.

  "That should not be a problem. When and if that situation comes to pass, Gregori and I will arrange for" — he lowered his voice and smiled—"some accidents to befall some of our current personnel — adjusting for aircraft space, of course."

  Collins watched as the Russians and Alexander spoke and laughed, and then turned back and watched as Jack, Everett, Will, and Farbeaux were escorted up the riverbank under heavy guard. It was Sagli who approached.

  "I would have thought you might be somewhat more formidable than your sister, Colonel." Sagli watched the larger Collins as he released the quickly recovering Everett. Jack tilted his head in thought as he took in the man before him. He was small and thin, but Jack knew the eyes of a killer when he saw them and he saw that this man was a survivor — having almost the same look to him as Farbeaux.

  "Is my sister still alive?" Collins asked, never letting the Russian know his very life hung in the balance, because if Sagli informed Jack that Lynn was indeed dead, Collins had decided to reach out and slowly tear the man's throat out.

  "Yes, she is, Colonel. For how long is now totally in your hands. Do as we say, and she may survive her small side trip to Canada. If you do not do as we say, or fail in your instructions and reason for your being here, you will both be buried in this very lonely place, along with your men, and then everyone you left behind at the fishing camp."

  Sagli was about to turn back toward the spot where Punchy Alexander and Deonovich waited, when they heard the sound of wood on wood start again. This time it came from the exact area where his men had captured Collins and his men across the river. Sagli watched and listened as the drumming was answered on their side of the river, and by more than one drummer.

  When Sagli looked at Jack, he saw that the colonel was smiling at him, and for reasons he didn't understand, that smile made him look away.

  "Did you catch what was said, Jack? Everett asked.

  "It seems we have company out there in the woods," Collins said as he took Mendenhall by the arm, relieving Henri of the duty.

  All together they were led into the Russian camp.

  WAHACHAPEE FISHING CAMP

  Ryan was restless. With his M-16 slung around his shoulder, he paced in front of the store. From just inside the store, Sarah watched him and shook her head. She knew the navy pilot was chomping at the bit to get airborne and to find Jack and his friends. She decided that she had to placate Ryan to get him to settle down, even though it went against Jack's orders. She eased the front door open and stepped out into the cool night air.

  Ryan stopped and turned. He saw that it was Sarah and then he visibly relaxed.

  "Good, it's you; I don't think I could take one more bullshit explanation about what's happening here from either that very strange girl or her whacked-out grandmother."

  Sarah smiled and walked down the wooden steps. She looked down at her shoes and then looked up at Ryan. His face was framed by the most brilliant veil of stars Sarah had ever seen. Even with the rising of the three-quarter moon, the stars shone as they never could have down below the border.

  "You know, Jack never does anything blindly."

  Ryan didn't say anything, but he did stop his pacing.

  "Oh, this time he really didn't have a plan, because he really didn't expect his sister to be in the bind she is in. But Jack knows what he's doing. We have to be patient and wait."

  "Wait for what, Sarah? For their bodies to come floating down the damn river?" Ryan didn't flinch away from Sarah's look.

  "Look, Jason, all I know is—"

  That was as far as Sarah's explanation went as a line of bullets thumped into the rocky soil just to their front. Then another line stitched the storefront, shattering the window glass in the doors and the lone surviving plate-glass window next to them. Sarah dove and hit the ground, bloodying her lips as her face hit the rocks. Ryan removed the M-16 from his shoulder and then reached for Sarah as more bullets struck around him, one clipping his sleeve as he reached down.

  "Get into the store!" Ryan shouted as the silenced rounds continued striking the ground, the store and the surrounding trees. They both realized this was a murder raid; the Russians had finally returned to see what had happened to their pilots, an argument Ryan now wished he had used to leave the camp earlier rather than later.

  Suddenly, shotgun blasts started flaring from the upper windows of the store. Either Marla or Helena had begun to give Ryan and Sarah covering fire to get into the store. Ryan seized the chance and pulled Sarah up the stairs. He got as far as the top step and then he felt something bite his right calf, he stumbled but stayed upright, and it was Sarah who was now pulling him up the stairs.

  As they reached the door, a small hand reached out and pulled them inside. Marla slammed the front door closed and then hit the floor as more bullets streamed inside, striking canned goods and a line of fishing poles on a rack on the wall. Wood chips flew everywhere.

  "Well, I guess we have to do exactly what Jack said not to do," Sarah shouted. "Let's get to the damn helicopter!"

  Ryan placed a hand to his calf and felt from front to back, realizing that the bullet that had hit him went through the muscle without hitting anything vital and then exiting the other side.

  "I'm for that!" he said as he rose up and let loose a ten-round burst through the smashed window, knowing he wouldn't strike anything but sky.

  "Get to the back door, I have to get my grandmother," Marla said as she crawled on hands and knees to the middle of the floor. She hit the stairs running just as two more shotgun blasts sounded from upstairs. More automatic-weapons fire hit the store, sending wood and plaster in all directions. It seemed the attackers were now concentrating their fire on the upper floor.

  "Well, what are we waiting for?" Sarah yelled. "I don't think these assholes will accept us waving a white flag here!"

  "Get to the back door. I have to get the girl and the old lady!" he shouted over the din of the one way gun battle.

  Sarah flinched as more rounds struck around them. She saw that Ryan would no more leave anyone behind than he would run away from anything. She nodded and started using her hands and knees to crawl toward the back.

  As Ryan limped toward the stairs, he stumbled and fell onto the first step. He was attempting to stand when Marla's small hands took his arm.

  "Come on, I hope you can still fly with that leg."

  "Wait, wait!" Ryan said as he hopped around on his good leg. "What about your grandmother?"

  Marla pulled at Ryan as they made their way toward the back door.

  "She's dead, and it won't do any good for me to fall apart about it now. I have no intention of dying here. Now come on!" she shouted with tears spilling from her eyes. Ryan quickly got over the shock of what he had just heard about Helena, and then grabbed the girl's arm.

  As they made it to the door, the shooting stopped and silence filled the night.

  * * *

  The first of the two-man teams of Russians to show themselves had arrived only minutes before Sarah had stepped out
onto the porch. They had been sent out early that morning by Sagli to discover the problem with communicating with their air support. They had made good time coming down the river at full throttle and made it to the camp just before the sun had set. They didn't hesitate when they came upon the two Americans standing in front of the camp store. Now the first two started forward as they received no more fire from the inside. The second team made their way around the back of the store and icehouse.

  As the first man knelt by a tree and waited for the second to cover the ground ahead, he saw a flash of movement and then the man he had been watching vanished in a split second of brutal motion. His eyes widened as a darkness, unlike anything he had ever seen before came from the surrounding trees and struck his partner, lifting him like a child and running back the way it had come. The wind had come up and that was when he was hit with a fine mist. The Spetsnaz swiped at his face and was shocked to see that his hand was covered with blood. Whatever had struck the man had done it so hard that blood had been forced out of the man's body.

  The commando was so shocked that by the time he realized what was happening, he was late in raising his AK-47. He tried to fire, but the blur of motion was gone. And that was when the screaming started. He stood and ran toward where the man and his giant abductor vanished and went headlong into the brush of the tree line.

  The soldier that had been taken sounded as if he was being torn limb from limb. The second Spetsnaz was quickly losing his nerve, and just as soon as the thought struck that he should return for the other two-man team, he ran into a dark object that stopped him cold. He rebounded with a bloody nose and lips, and fell and struck the ground. He shook his head to try and clear it, thinking he had stupidly struck a tree in the darkness of the forest, and then he saw the animal standing over him. The man's eyes widened in terror as the features of the beast became apparent in the three-quarter moon glow filtering though the trees. The face was like that of a man, but far hairier. The lips were wide and thick, the brows were large, and the eyes glowed a fierce yellowish-green that was brighter than anything the man had ever seen before. The beast growled from deep within its massive chest. The man saw the giant's left hand flexing at its side, and in the right he saw a club that had to weigh at least fifty pounds. As the trained Spetsnaz fought to bring up the AK-47, the beast easily lifted its left foot and brought it down on the weapon, slamming it into the man's leg, snapping the thigh bone in two.