by Ronald Kelly
"You should have told somebody before you went running off on your own," Alice told him. "You had us worried half to death, turning up missing like that. Jenny, Glen, and Miss Mable are already up here somewhere, searching for you and Sheriff Mayo."
"Well, I've been found," said Rowdy. "Now all we have to do is find Grandpa and the others." His stomach growled and he eyed the two hopefully. "Ya'll wouldn't happen to have some vittles on you, would you?"
Alice and Dale checked their backpacks. They eventually came up with a Snickers bar and half a bag of trail mix. "Well, it ain't ham and eggs, but I reckon it'll have to do." He munched on the food as they began to walk toward the western face of the mountain, hoping to find some sign of the others at the abandoned cabin.
Suddenly, a stuttering roar sounded from the sky overhead. They stopped in their tracks and peered through the tree tops, trying to identify the source of the approaching noise.
It was a squadron of helicopters, circling the swell of the mountain. Rowdy noticed that there were two kinds of choppers. One was large and bulky; its doors open, revealing a number of armed men inside. The other kind was smaller, more sleek and compact, clearly outfitted with destruction in mind. Machine guns jutted from the nose turrets and missile pods were secured to the landing skids.
They watched as the transport choppers winged their way toward the foot of the mountain, as if searching for places to land. The attack choppers patrolled overhead, keeping an eye on both the ground below and the sky above. "Looks like we've got a full-scale invasion on our hands," Rowdy said grimly. "And if I ain't mistaken, we're gonna be right in the middle of it in a matter of minutes."
Changing their direction, they plunged deeper into the forest. They began to ascend the mountainside, keeping their eyes peeled for movement in the woods behind them and their ears alert for the sound of approaching men. Minutes later they spotted a number of camouflaged soldiers armed with automatic weapons stalking the forest, laughing and joking, firing concentrated bursts of gunfire at any wildlife unfortunate enough to stray into view. From their lack of hesitation, it appeared as though they had been given the order to shoot any living thing on sight…and that probably included human beings.
"What are we going to do?" whispered Alice. The baseball bat in her hand suddenly seemed silly and ineffective.
"I don't know," admitted Rowdy at a total loss for ideas. He looked down at the Magnum revolver he held and knew that it was absolutely no match for machine guns and assault rifles.
Dale motioned from where he stood near a clump of blackberry bramble. "Quick, over here," he called quietly. They joined him and found that he had discovered a small cave set within the side of the mountain. The heavy brush obscured the opening so completely that it was a stroke of luck that the boy had even noticed the entranceway hidden there.
"I don't know if I cotton to the idea of being holed up in that rabbit burrow," Rowdy told them. "If those fellas find us hiding in there, we'll really be in dire straits."
"It's either that or stay out here and get shot full of holes," Alice said. "As for me, I'd rather take my chance in the cave."
"I reckon you're right," agreed Rowdy. He accompanied them into the cramped opening, squeezing past the wicked briers of the thicket. They crawled into the dank passageway, regaining their feet as the tunnel grew larger. They could hear the soldiers almost directly outside the cave now, ascending the mountainside. They waited for a shout of discovery and the sound of approaching footsteps, but neither came. The cave was passed undetected.
"Looks like we're stuck in here for awhile," said Rowdy. "Got any suggestions?"
"Yes, I suggest we do a little spelunking," said Alice. She took the flashlight that Rowdy was carrying and snapped it on. She shone the light down the corridor of raw coal, which seemed to shoot straight into the center of PaleDoveMountain. "Any objections?"
"I sure as hell ain't got nothing better to do," Rowdy replied. "Lead the way, Dinosaur Lady." Soon he was following her and Dale into the dark depths of the Tennessee mountain.
Jackson Dellhart and Vincent Russ stood next to the Bell transport that had brought the operation's Blue Team to the southern face of PaleDoveMountain. They lingered at the chopper and watched as Desmond Jamal and his mercenaries made a slow and experienced ascent up the wooded mountainside.
"What now?" asked Russ. He hoped that his boss had changed his mind about exploring the mountain on their own and decided to stay put until the military strike was completed. But he knew that Dellhart's mind was still on its single track when the man produced the infrared map and spread it out on the ground next to the helicopter.
"According to this chart there is a natural cave located somewhere on this side of the mountain. The thermal readings show that it links up with a cavern of incredible size somewhere within the heart of PaleDoveMountain. I suggest that we leave the operation in the capable hands of Colonel Hendrix and his grunts and start searching for this entrance. No telling what we might find hidden inside."
"Yeah," said Russ. "Like maybe that joker who's been giving us such a hard time."
Dellhart patted the .380 pistol on his hip. "We can take care of the bastard ourselves if we have to."
"I'm not so sure. Remember what that surveyor Graham said about the guy? About how he shot him point blank with a .45 automatic and it didn't even faze him?"
Dellhart considered that, recalling the sheer ferocity of the photographs he had received chronicling the violent behavior of this meddler that his local spies called the Dark'Un. "Then maybe we ought to take some extra precautions," he said. He caught the attention of the Bell pilot, a brawny black man named Hollinger. "Mind if we help ourselves to a few goodies back there?"
"Help yourself, man," shrugged Hollinger. His eyes never left the issue of Rolling Stone he was reading. "Hell, you're the one paying for it."
Dellhart reached into an open crate and brought out a few fragmentation grenades. He handed them to Russ, who put them in the pockets of his windbreaker. Dellhart also found a spare walkie-talkie and clipped it to his belt. "Okay, let's go."
Vincent Russ hung back a few paces, letting his boss lead the way. He was still suspicious of Dellhart's true motive for bringing him along. He slipped a hand beneath his jacket and felt the comforting hardness of the Browning pistol. If it came down to it, Russ promised himself that there would be no petty game of cat-and-mouse between him and Dellhart. Instead it would be an equal confrontation…cat versus cat. And he intended to prove the victor between the two.
"Take a look at this."
Rowdy and Dale joined Alice in examining the inner walls of the subterranean passageway. The walls were an odd combination of translucent quartz and glossy black coal. In the artificial light of the flash they could see a varied collection of prehistoric creatures permanently encased in vast slabs of clear quartz. They all seemed to belong to the insect family—a wondrous catalog of huge dragonflies, wasps, and beetles that had inhabited the humid swamps of earth during the age of the dinosaur. They were perfect biological specimens suspended within the deposits of quartz, each whole and without sign of physical deterioration.
"Wow! Monster bugs!" Dale ran his hand over a fossilized mosquito twice the size of his hand. "I'd sure hate to get bitten by this bloodsucker."
"I've never seen such well-preserved specimens from the Cretaceous period," Alice said. "Most of the examples I've ever come across have become part of the stone formations they were trapped in, until only the skeletal structure remained. Sometimes in the case of plants and insects, there is only a faint impression left on the surface rock. But this is something entirely different. The quartz has preserved these creatures flawlessly. They're in the same physical state as they were during their lifetime, some 135 million years ago."
They walked farther down the dark corridor and stopped before a sharp bend in the tunnel. There, in a particularly vast slab of quartz, was a large depression of substantial size. It was a long, tubular rece
ss, three feet in length and a foot in depth. Alice studied it closely and her eyes brightened with sudden excitement. "I can't believe this," she breathed. The professor took the flashlight and illuminated the slab. A jagged crack ran the height of the tunnel wall, from top to bottom. Large, jagged chunks of quartz littered the floor beneath the depression, where they had fallen from the ruptured wall.
"What's so unbelievable?" asked Dale, watching as Alice stuck her head inside the recess and studied the strange indentations that scored the quartz deposit.
"If my theory is right, some sort of organism was encased in this wall, just as these other insects are. But some form of seismic activity—an earthquake perhaps—split open its quartz tomb during the last three thousand years. Or maybe I should say its quartz cocoon."
Rowdy looked at her incredulously. "Are you trying to tell me the critter that was stuck in this wall wasn't really dead? That it was snoozing away for millions of years and an earth tremor woke it up?"
"I know it's pretty farfetched, but there is a remote possibility that the organism was subject to some sort of suspended animation. After the crack in the wall appeared, oxygen and moisture might have revived it. Maybe its metabolism was such that it could survive for such a long period of time in a state of advanced hibernation."
"Do you think this thing in the wall might have been one of those albinos?" questioned Dale, in awe of their startling discovery. "Or maybe even the Dark'Un?"
"I don't know," admitted Alice. "But it doesn't seem quite as fantastic as the incredible transformation these creatures can put themselves through. Maybe the albino beings of PaleDoveMountain are direct descendants of the thing that was trapped in this quartz deposit. Maybe they are descendants of a creature that science never even knew existed—a vastly intelligent and highly evolved organism that can alter the individual makeup of its cell structure at will, with remarkable speed and accuracy. It would require the perfect melding of mind and matter, a control over the physical structure that is almost too mindboggling to even consider. That's the only rational theory I can come up with to explain the mysterious things we've witnessed in the past few days."
"Exactly what did this darned thing look like?" asked Rowdy, peering at the long recess in the wall. "Can you tell from the hole it left?"
"From the size of the opening and the pattern of the impression that has been permanently etched inside, it appears to be some gigantic creature akin to the Chilopoda class of the Arthropoda family. In layman's terms, a cross between a primitive trilobite and the present-day centipede. There are some peculiar characteristics, however, that distinguish this organism from any specimen previously known. The cranial capacity was much greater, which probably explains the immense intelligence of the creature."
They were so wrapped up in Alice's description of the missing fossil that they neglected to hear the sound of careful footsteps coming up the passageway behind them. By the time Rowdy detected the noise, it was too late to act. Before he had a chance to draw his Magnum, he felt the cold muzzle of a gun press against the back of his neck.
"Interesting lecture, Professor." Jackson Dellhart grinned in the sparse glow of the flashlight. "But these incredible organisms you seem to hold in such high esteem mean absolutely nothing to me. Especially the one you call the Dark'Un. That's why I have a crack force of seasoned killers out there right now, hunting for the damned pest."
Vincent Russ stepped into view, aiming his nine-millimeter at Alice and Dale. "Drop the bats," he demanded. They did as they were told, letting the aluminum sluggers fall to the ground. He reached over to relieve Rowdy of his pistols and got hold of the sheriff's .38 Special, but his boss beat him to the Magnum. "I like this big hogleg better," said Dellhart, reholstering the stubby Walther and hefting the weight of the .44 six-shooter in his hand.
"Exactly what is it on this mountain that you're so interested in?" Alice asked the corporate president. "I know it isn't the timber or coal. No one would go to the lengths of hiring a professional army just to chop down a few trees."
"Maybe he's here for the gold," said Dale, then realized that he should have kept his mouth shut.
"Gold." Dellhart rolled the word across his tongue like a sip of fine wine. "So, the geology report was accurate." He regarded his three captives. "Tell me, where is this gold located?"
"We don't know a thing about any damned gold," said Rowdy. Alice kept silent on the subject, and Dale wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.
"Then we'll all have to go look for it," said Dellhart. He eyed Dale with an oily grin and caught him by the arm. "You're going to stick close to me, boy. Just a little insurance to make certain that your two friends don't try anything stupid." He snaked the cool barrel of the Magnum beneath the earlobe of the nine-year-old, drawing an involuntary shiver from the child.
"You heartless son of a bitch," Alice said, her eyes flashing.
"Most certainly," replied Dellhart. "Now, get moving. There's a fortune to be found somewhere in this mountain…as well as that black bastard that's been plaguing my pet project since the very beginning."
Chapter Thirty-One
Nguyen Khiem brought up the rear as the rest of the Yellow Team crossed a stream on PaleDoveMountain's western face and headed into the dense woods. A sunburned Australian named Becker walked point, while the other eight soldiers were spread out in a wide skirmish line in between. They had only encountered a few small animals and birds halfway up the mountain, and had eliminated them per their commander's orders. But their idle conversation and casual horseplay had changed to serious business when they reached the site of Fletcher Brice's log cabin and found a four-wheel drive parked there. Now the game was of an entirely different nature; they had human targets to search for now. Unlike the harmless animals they had killed earlier that hour, the prey they now stalked could end up shooting back if they were properly armed.
Khiem took his walkie-talkie and checked in with the other team leaders. Red, Blue, and Green Teams reported nothing out of the ordinary, only a scattering of woodland creatures. He returned the radio to his belt and moved onward. Khiem gripped his AK-47 securely, finger on the trigger, always on the alert. He didn't trust the quiet serenity of the Tennessee forest. It reminded him too much of the lush jungles of Cambodia and Northern Vietnam, where tranquility reigned…until you screwed up and brushed a trip wire or put your foot in a pit of dung-smeared pungi sticks.
The only equipment Khiem carried other than his rifle, knife, and radio was a black nylon bag with a Yin-Yang sign embroidered on the flap. It was his "Kung Fu" bag, as his fellow mercs called it. Khiem had spent his youth fighting in the wilds of Cambodia, but most of his adult life had been spent traveling and studying throughout the Orient, where he had become interested in the martial arts. He was an avid disciple of the great masters and had trained in karate, judo, and aikido. He was also proficient with a number of Oriental weapons. No matter what sort of military operation Hendrix planned or what area of the globe they traveled to, Khiem was never without his black bag. The compact arsenal of shuriken, throwing spikes, and nunchucks had proven invaluable in the past. In fact, it had saved his life more than once—both in the chaos of the battlefield and in the seamy bars of Singapore and Hong Kong.
"Look sharp," he called to his men. He checked his wristwatch and found that they had thirty minutes until they rendezvoused with the other teams at the northern side of the peak. He studied the dense forest suspiciously, failing to be taken in by its deceptive peacefulness. "Remember, we have a two-legged threat somewhere in the area."
"I haven't seen a blasted thing so far, mate," called Becker. "I think the so-called threat is greatly exaggerated."
Khiem was about to tell the Aussie to be on guard anyway when he saw the man disappear right before his eyes. Something dark and shiny snaked up from out of the undergrowth, grabbing the soldier's legs and dragging him beneath the knee-deep covering of kudzu and honeysuckle. Becker didn't even have time to cry out. He un
leashed an erratic burst from his Heckler & Koch, and then vanished from view. A second later a loud noise echoed from the thrashing tangle of ivy where Becker had been standing a moment before. It had the crisp report of a gunshot, but everyone in the vicinity knew it to be of a much more sinister nature.
Crack!
Several men who had witnessed the puzzling incident made a move to check it out. "Hold your positions!" ordered Khiem. He stared at the spot fifty feet ahead of him, but the blanket of dense ivy had healed itself. He couldn't even tell where the man had been pulled under.
"What the hell?" cried a soldier named Pike. Khiem shot his gaze to the left as the man struggled with something that had hold of his boot. Once again, that glistening black tendril snaked from out of the vegetation and found its victim. It tugged the man under like the suckered arm of an octopus dragging an unwary fisherman to the ocean's bottom. And as with Becker, there came a brittle crack, forceful and deadly in its finality.
"There is something under the ivy," he told the remaining seven, trying to abate any panic that might be forming in their minds. "If you spot any movement beneath the undergrowth, aim carefully and fire."
"But what if we hit Becker and Pike by mistake?" asked an Irishman named O'Donnell.
"Becker and Pike are dead," he told them flatly. He didn't have to explain his reason for that determination. They had all heard the awful shattering of bone and had come to the same conclusion.
The undergrowth stirred to the right, drawing a volley of gunfire from the four soldiers that stood there. The bullets seemed to have no effect, though. The ivy rippled like a dark green wave as the thing beneath it rushed forward. They continued to fire, even as the creature seized them. Their guns lifted skyward, firing aimlessly into the tree tops, as four dark tendrils emerged from the lush carpet, wrapping around the waists of the mercenaries and dragging them, cursing and screaming, underneath.
