by Ronald Kelly
Dellhart waited until they had all cleared the passageway, then reached out from behind a stalagmite of pure gold, grabbing Jenny by the arm. "Time to trade hostages," he said, pushing Dale away and drawing the blonde closer. "Maybe you'll be easier to handle than that blasted kid."
Glen whirled just as Dale stumbled toward him. "Dale, what are you doing here?" He took the frightened boy in his arms and saw Rowdy and Alice joining the others. Then he spotted the big blond man standing there with a revolver pressed to Jenny's temple. Suddenly, the confusion as to his son's presence there became secondary. He pulled the .357 from his belt and leveled it at Jenny's captor.
"Drop the gun!" demanded Vincent Russ, stepping out of the shadows. He held the Browning automatic in his hand.
"Do as he says," said Dellhart. "All of you drop your weapons, or the lovely lady gets her head blown off."
For a tense moment, there seemed to be a Mexican standoff, guns drawn and on the verge of discharge. But they soon realized that Jenny's safety took precedence, and they complied with Dellhart's demand. Glen tossed his Magnum to the stone floor, while Miss Mable discarded her MAC-10 machine gun.
"You sure carry some heavy artillery, grandma," chuckled Russ, stepping forward and kicking both guns out of reach.
"You!" exclaimed Miss Mable, eyes hardening with contempt behind the thick lenses of her spectacles. "Should've known you'd show up for the final act." She then directed a withering glare at the man who held Jenny. "And I reckon you're that greedy jackass from Eco-Plenty, ain't you? That Jackson Dellhart fella?"
"Yes, ma'am, in the flesh," said Dellhart, flashing a deceptively charming smile. He walked over to the stretcher that Gart Mayo lay on, never easing his grip on Jenny for a second. "Well, it looks like you survived that ambush my boys cooked up for you."
"Yeah, and it's a damned good thing I did, too, you sorry son of a bitch!" declared Gart, rising to his elbows despite his weakened state. "Because when I get outta here, I'm gonna do everything in my power to put you away for a good long while."
"That's a very interesting threat, Sheriff," said Dellhart. "Except for one little fact. You won't ever be leaving this place…none of you will. I can't allow the details of my quest for PaleDoveMountain to be discovered by the state authorities. It could prove to be very embarrassing to the stock holders of my corporation and put a damper on this pet project, as well as others I have in progress around the globe. Therefore, you must all resign to the fact that you will be remaining here, entombed inside this mountain when I leave."
He nodded to Russ and watched as the man took one of the grenades from his jacket pocket. Russ pulled the pin and tossed the bomb into the access tunnel they had recently traveled. Five seconds later, a roaring explosion rocked the cavern and the corridor belched a cloud of black dust as the alternate passageway collapsed beneath tons of coal and rock.
"Now we'll make our way toward the tunnel that leads to the peak," Dellhart said, recalling the colorful readings of the infrared map. "But first I must confront the one who has made this particular business venture a real pain in the ass for me."
"And who would that be?" asked Lance LaBlanc with a smile of amusement.
"That freaking bastard who has been leaving me those damned warnings," said Dellhart. "The one you call the Dark'Un."
"The one you seek is not here with us, but outside on the mountain, battling those that you hired to eliminate us. And it sounds as though they are losing the fight." Once again the faint rumble of an explosion sounded through the thick walls of the golden chamber. Dellhart had given Hendrix instructions to avoid using explosives unless absolutely necessary. From the sound of the conflict raging above, the need for such force had presented itself.
Dellhart scanned the vast cavern and spotted a large portal that was guarded by two brawny albinos. "What's in there?"
LaBlanc blocked his way, his smile fading into concern. "You may not enter there. It is the lair of the Dark'Un."
Dellhart's eyes sparkled with cruelty. "Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I can put a little hurt on the bastard after all. Hand me one of those grenades, Russ." His right-hand man dug another grenade from his windbreaker and tossed it to his boss. Then Dellhart headed for the dark hovel, dragging Jenny with him.
"Don't!" said Alice, her voice almost pleading. "You could end up destroying an important scientific discovery."
"I don't give a damn about scientific discoveries, Professor. This Dark'Un has been a burr under my saddle and I'm going to return some of the misery he's given me lately."
"No!' yelled LaBlanc. "You must not!" He ran to Dellhart and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I won't let you commit such an atrocity against our kind."
"I'm not asking your permission, freak." Dellhart turned and clubbed the albino leader across the skull with the long barrel of the .44 Magnum. LaBlanc relinquished his hold and dropped to the ground, stark red blood trickling from a gash in his pallid forehead.
The wrestler and linebacker who guarded the entrance of the lair stepped forward threateningly, flexing their pale muscles. "Out of my way, or you're dead," Dellhart commanded. When they continued to advance toward him, he aimed the Magnum and fired. The hollow-point slugs opened large holes in their broad chests. The albinos shrieked shrilly as they dropped to the cavern floor, clutching their wounds.
"What the hell is this?" breathed the corporate executive as he stood and watched them thrash in bizarre death throes of rapid transformation. Their screams were replaced by a loud crackling as the two creatures underwent a terrifying process, their flesh and bones melting down, then reforming just as swiftly into a diverse parade of pale-hued forms. They changed from men into birds, from rabbits to snakes, from deer to naked women. Dellhart watched the incredible chain of metamorphosis, until he could watch it no more. He aimed the .44 again, putting bullets through the heads of both creatures and ending their lives with thunderous finality.
Jackson Dellhart was shaken by what he had seen, but that did not stop the mission he had given himself. He marched onward, while Russ held the others at bay with his pistol. But Dellhart never reached the mouth of the Dark'Un's private lair. Before he got there, he was aware that he was being watched—from above. He looked up and saw hundreds of pink eyes blazing feverishly down at him. The timidity of a few minutes ago had left the hidden creatures and, instead, rage had taken place. At first, Dellhart thought that the change of emotion was due to the slaying of the guards, but that was only a part of it. More precisely it was his threat against the lair itself…and whatever lay beyond the shadowy entranceway.
For a moment, the hidden creatures did nothing. Restraint held them back; a passivity that the strange race had endured for countless centuries. Then, abruptly, that temperance was broken. A combined chorus of crackling filled the vast chamber, echoing off the golden walls, louder and more damning than any spoken accusation. They were changing like their murdered brethren…changing into something horrid and deadly in direct response to the slaughter he had dealt from the muzzle of his gun.
"Come on, Russ. We're getting the hell out of here." He forgot about the lair of his dark enemy, more concerned now with the intentions of the pale army that amassed in the dark pits overhead. He stuck the hand grenade in his pants pocket for safekeeping.
Jenny struggled to get away, but he continued to drag her along. "Why are you taking me?" she demanded, scratching and kicking. "Why don't you leave me here with my friends?"
Dellhart placed the warm muzzle of the .44 against the smooth flesh of her throat, stopping her resistance. "Because you might come in handy as a hostage later on. Besides, you don't want to stick around with these deadbeats. After I seal off the last access tunnel, they'll end up suffocating…and an artist like yourself deserves a much more colorful demise than that."
He hauled the woman across the open floor of the cavern. Russ followed close behind, still keeping his gun trained on the others. They were halfway to the exit tunnel when the deafening so
und of the mass transformation stopped. Silence hung in the air like a tangible presence, the kind of unnerving silence that stood human sanity at the precipice of utter madness and threatened to fling it, wailing, over the edge. Then the albinos acted. They left their collective hovels as one terrifying force.
A flock of gigantic white bats swooped down from out of the golden walls, vengeance blazing in their brilliant pink eyes. All were the size of year-old calves and their leathery wings spanned nine feet from tip to tip. The worst feature of the airborne monstrosities were the gnashing maws of their demonic faces—jaws bristling with jagged fangs sharp enough to flay muscle from bone as easily as a knife peels the rosy red skin from an apple.
Luckily, Dellhart and his hostage reached the tunnel before any of the mutant bats could attack them. Russ was a little slow, but he joined them a second later, firing his 9mm at the flying creatures. The three crowded into the passageway, escaping the shrieking squadron, and began their steady climb upward. "Seal the tunnel!" Dellhart said when they were fifty feet up the corridor.
Russ produced the last of his grenades. He pulled the pin and rolled it down the steep incline to the mouth of the passageway. A flash of fire and concussion erupted, bringing the ceiling and walls down behind them, blocking the others off from the outside world.
"What now?" Russ asked as they moved upward.
"Now we make it to the top of PaleDoveMountain and call in one of Hendrix's choppers to chauffeur us home."
"And what about the girl?"
Dellhart's flawless grin was visible even in the darkness. "She must be disposed of, just like her meddling friends. We'll dump her body into the Little River on our way back to Memphis." He laughed deeply as if his plan were some clever practical joke, then he pushed the pretty blonde onward.
Vincent Russ said nothing in reply. The tunnel was so murky that he could barely see his superior ahead of him. Once during the journey, he raised his gun at arm's length, tempted to put a bullet through the back of Dellhart's skull. But it was too dark in the tunnel to take chances. He couldn't tell which blond head belonged to Jenny and which to Dellhart. He finally decided to hold off on his planned betrayal for a while. Once they reached the outer world, he might find an opportunity to rid himself of Jackson Dellhart in a more constructive manner than mere assassination.
Back in the depths of the golden cavern, the others surveyed the damage done to the exit tunnel. Dust filled the air where a heap of huge boulders choked the mouth of the passageway. "There must be a ton or two of solid rock sealing us off," Rowdy said grimly. "It'd take a week to dig our way out of here."
"Perhaps not," said LaBlanc. The albino walked up, holding a pale hand to his bleeding head. He nodded to a couple of his fellow creatures. They instantly lost form, melting into flaccid pools of swirling flesh and going through the transformation. The others watched as they began to take definite form, turning into huge, white grizzly bears. The lumbering behemoths attacked the blocked passageway, digging into the wall of packed earth and stone, flinging hunks of rock to the side as if they weighed practically nothing.
Glen and Rowdy knew that it wouldn't be long before the albino bears broke through to the other side. They retrieved the guns that they had been forced to discard, intending to give pursuit once the tunnel was cleared. Rowdy knelt beside his grandfather's stretcher for a moment, taking the old man's hand. "Now don't you go and die on me while I'm off fighting the bad guys," he told Gart. "If you do, I'll end up writing a rousing country ballad about your illustrious life."
"God forbid!" chuckled Gart. The elderly lawman smiled up at his grandson and squeezed his hand. "Take care, boy. Remember, if you end up eating a bullet, you won't ever make it to the Grand Ole Opry."
"I'll be okay," he assured him. Then he turned to Alice and Miss Mable. "Do you ladies mind sticking with Grandpa and seeing that he makes it out of here?" He stood up and hefted the weight of the MAC-10 in his hand.
"I'd much rather go after those scoundrels with y'all," said Miss Mable. "But I reckon I'll stay here and take care of the old man. You boys have fun, but be careful."
"Yeah," said Alice, stretching on tiptoes to give the lanky singer a peck on the jaw. "I found you once today. Sure wouldn't want to lose you all over again."
Rowdy grinned. "No chance of that, sweetheart." He kissed her back and then joined Glen. The storekeeper sent his son to join the two women, despite the boy's protests. Glen's bearded face was intense with anger and concern. The thought of Jenny being subject to Dellhart's mercy fired him up. He knew then that he truly loved the woman. He was bound and determined to secure Jenny's freedom, even if it meant fighting the corporate cutthroat to the death to do so.
LaBlanc called out and they turned to see the bears pawing away the last of the rubble. Glen and Rowdy rushed to the chase, leaving the others behind. The flock of monstrous bats had resumed their normal shapes and were gathered around the injured sheriff and his friends.
The albino leader noticed that the attention of Alice and Dale was directed elsewhere. Their eyes were glued to the unguarded entrance of the Dark'Un's lair. "Do you wish to see what lies within?" he asked, deciding that it could do no harm to satisfy their curiosity. "If so, follow me."
The two left Gart and Miss Mable, following the gaunt albino to the mouth of the dark chamber. The two creatures who had died in defense of the lair sprawled on the blood-splattered floor, but they were in none of the forms they had exhibited during their frantic metamophosis. Instead, they were in the shapes of large white centipedes, nearly a foot long in length.
When Alice and Dale hesitated at the entrance, LaBlanc smiled. "Do not be afraid. Nothing here will harm you." Put at ease by his quiet assurance, they stepped inside.
There was only one torch blazing from the rear wall of the mysterious chamber. At first Alice and Dale thought that the cave was empty, but then they noticed a single albino woman sitting cross-legged in a far corner. In the sparse glow of the firelight, they watched as she smiled gently up at them and spread her slender arms, showing them the mass of squirming blackness that surrounded her, crawling across the stone floor and swarming over her pale flesh like thin streams of ebony quicksilver.
"What are they?" Dale asked. He bent down and picked up one of the dark creatures. It snaked playfully between the boy's fingers, tickling his skin and making him giggle with delight.
Alice McCray smiled in sudden amazement, for she knew exactly what they were. And the violently protective defense of the dreaded Dark'Un also became clear to her. Slowly she began to realize that the place they stood in was not the lair of some cruel and heartless monster, but a place much more significant in nature.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Skeeter Newland circled the mountain, this time with a purpose other than keeping a skyward watch for intruding aircraft that might hinder the military assault. Frag Hendrix had radioed him and requested that he and some of the transport copters survey the wooded slopes of PaleDoveMountain and see if they could spot any sign of Yellow, Blue, and Green Teams, who seemed to have practically fallen off the face of the earth during the course of the operation. Three of the Bells, piloted by Stokes, Drayton, and Yarborough joined him in the surface reconnaissance, while the other Huey gunships, flown by Wheeler and Boyett, maintained a defensive pattern above the rocky peak. The only helicopter still on the ground was Hollinger's Bell on the southern side.
"Have you guys seen anything yet?" Skeeter asked into the microphone of his headset. The sun was bright that afternoon and the Texan had to squint past the glare of his windshield, despite his aviator glasses and the shade from the visor of his 1st Air Cavalry baseball cap. "Those fellas just couldn't have up and disappeared into thin air."
One by one, the pilots reported no sign of the missing teams. Then Drayton changed his tune as he spotted something below. "Wait a second…yeah, I've got some bodies in sight here on the eastern face. Looks like Green Team. They're scattered all over a damned thicket.
What a freaking massacre!"
Skeeter was skirting the southern side of the mountain and heading for the eastern side to have a look for himself, when he spied the ruins of the trailer camp halfway up the wooded peak. "Now what the hell happened here?" he wondered. The bloody bodies of Blue Team lay sprawled around the wreckage. From that height, they resembled toy soldiers that had been mangled and discarded by some temperamental child.
"Do you see anything yet, Skeeter?" came the voice of Hendrix through his earphones.
"Yes, sir," replied the skinny Texan. "Both Blue and Green teams are down. Looks like they met up with some resistance that was too much for them to handle."
"Damn!" cussed the commander. "What about Yellow Team?"
"I'm in sight of the western face now," said Yarborough. "The forest covering is extremely heavy on this side. If Yellow Team has suffered the same casualties, I can't verify it from this vantage point."
Suddenly, an explosion sounded from above the peak of Pale Dove Mountain. Skeeter glanced up in time to see one of the Huey Cobras burst into a ball of orange flame. Smoldering pieces of debris rained down, littering the bare stone of the mountaintop. Skeeter spotted something else up there, too; something dark and swift teasing at his peripheral vision. It was there for a fleeting instant and then was obscured by the rocky point.
"Who got burned?" he demanded. "Was it Wheeler or Boyett?"
Wheeler's voice came over the intercom, sounding more than a little rattled. "It was Boyett. Gripes, did you guys see the thing that bagged him? It was huge and as black as sin. And it didn't fire a single shot…just swooped up from the forest below and tore the blasted chopper apart."
