by Greig Beck
‘Okay. Sam, lay out a few seismic sensors. Don’t want anything creeping up on us – man or bug.’
Alex stood up and had turned to leave when Zach spoke again. ‘One more thing – these parasites live on blood and bodily fluids. And the bodies were…’ He shrugged.
Alex looked at him silently for a few seconds, then nodded and disappeared into the dark. He tried to pick up any sign of the mysterious presence out there in the desert, but all seemed silent and still.
THIRTY-TWO
The HAWCs were now a few miles out from the Sassanid cave and just as many again south of Arak. An hour ago they had received an information packet from Major Hammerson telling them that further gamma pulses, just slightly smaller than those from the Persepolis site, had been detected in Arak. It confirmed they were on the right track.
It was dark now, and cloudless, and the day’s heat had quickly fled, leaving cold stars glittering like brittle chips of ice on a thick, black blanket. While the others took some much needed rest, Alex prepared to do a perimeter sweep. He had only taken around fifty steps from the group when the wave of pain and nausea passed over him. He put his hands to his ears in an attempt to block out the subsonic assault to his brain. The eerie alien howl caused him agonising pain, and for a brief moment he felt the furies strain within him again – he wanted to fight. He crushed his eyes shut and breathed deeply until he calmed. But after the pain subsided, the unease remained. This time the strange scream had come from nearby. Way too close.
From the darkness he looked back at the group. O’Riordan had his suit down to his waist and was injecting a cocktail of steroids and tromadiene directly into the purple trauma area on his side. His ribs would stay broken until he returned home, but at least he wouldn’t feel it. Lagudi had a massive split lip, which he’d stitched himself; he’d lost a tooth and one of his eyes was the colour and size of a ripe summer plum. He’d told Alex he felt better than he looked. Alex saw him turn to O’Riordan now and say, ‘You see the captain take out those Takavaran guys? He was unbelievable. No wonder I couldn’t knock him down back at base during the exercises. He was just playing with me.’
‘So what,’ O’Riordan sneered. ‘The guy’s a freak – he was probably hopped up on some drug.’
Alex realised the two men thought he couldn’t hear them from this distance.
Lagudi blinked at O’Riordan’s response and touched his bloated lip. ‘Bad business about Hex – not a good way to go out.’
‘Yeah, well, he was the team leader and he walked us into a freakin’ trap. That could’ve been all of us on that bonfire.’
Lagudi exploded. ‘Are you shittin’ me, man? Did you see them Takavaran guys – they were no slouches! Could you have done better? Anyway… I seem to remember you were the man out at point.’
O’Riordan’s tone became belligerent. ‘I was out in front doin’ my job, but he was leadin’ us! He’s supposed to be one of those experienced super HAWC soldiers, but we ended up being led into a stinkin’ ambush. It was bad luck it turned out like it did. But you know what – some days you’re the dog and some days you’re the hydrant. Like I said, it coulda been all of us.’
O’Riordan went to walk away, then spotted Alex standing about fifty feet out in the black desert, staring at him. The HAWC looked back for a few seconds, then shrugged and continued on his way. Clearly, he had no idea he’d been overheard. Alex felt the rage begin to build in him again, but summoned the sound of waves crashing on sand to calm himself. O’Riordan would keep.
While he stood staring out into the cold and dark desert, Adira walked over. She took a sip from her water canister, wiped it and offered it to him. ‘How’s the headache?’
‘It wasn’t a headache – it was something else, a sound, but it’s gone now.’ Alex turned to her. ‘Have you ever heard fingernails down a blackboard? It was like that – unpleasant and weird. But very low frequency, not like anything I’ve ever heard before.’ He went back to scanning the dark horizon, as if keeping guard.
‘I didn’t hear it, and I know most things in this desert. Can you describe it to me?’ Adira was looking intensely into his face.
Alex looked down at her and saw the concern in her eyes. How could he describe it to her though? How could he get her to understand it when he didn’t understand it himself? The mental pictures didn’t make sense, and neither did his ability to ‘see’ them. The sound had conjured images of sharp alien cliffs rising from a moist valley floor. Of pale grey bulbous-headed plants leaning over wet sand, and a sky that was orange, punctured by a weak blue sun. The images had jumped into his head with dizzying speed and left him dazed and confused. The call was a longing for that world; a lament of loneliness, and then of anger and frustration.
Alex shook his head slightly. He knew he should be telling Hammerson or Medical about these new changes in his abilities, but he worried that they would confine him to the base for more tests. And he wasn’t sure anymore whether the tests were making him better or worse.
He turned away from the dark to look at Adira again. ‘Describe it? I couldn’t even try. It wasn’t remotely like anything I’ve ever heard. Like I said, it was weird.’
Alex compressed his lips and breathed out through his nose. The weird scream from out of the desert, Sam’s description of the drained Takavaran corpses, and now the sense of danger close by made him feel he needed to be constantly vigilant.
‘I need to walk the line. Would you -’
‘Yes, and thank you for asking,’ Adira jumped in.
Alex had been about to suggest she head back to the group. He smiled. Might as well take her with me – she’ll probably tag along anyway, he thought. She was obviously a woman who was used to doing things her way. She returned his smile with a raised eyebrow. ‘No holding hands on a first date, okay?’ she said with mock seriousness.
Alex laughed. He couldn’t help liking her.
Adira liked his laugh. Although she was tired and could have done with the rest, she was determined to learn more about Alex Hunter. He intrigued her. She needed to understand him – who he really was, and how he was able to do the things that she had seen him do. She should have sent that information back to her headquarters immediately, but she felt that knowing who he was was less important than knowing how he’d got to be that way. This rendered the information incomplete. She almost believed the rationale herself.
She stole glances at him as she walked beside him in the cold, dark desert. She had seen him clutch his head in agony. She didn’t like to see him in pain, but was in some way glad that he could acknowledge a physical sensation. She had started to think there was something not quite human about him, marvelling at his indifference to wounds and fatigue. Adira knew Mossad’s training was comparable to that of any special forces around the world, but Alex Hunter’s skills made Metsada, Kidon and even his own HAWCs look like ordinary infantrymen.
Apart from General Shavit’s reference to the Arcadian, and the few details from the stolen American report – passed on to her by one of her agents in the past few days – she had little to go on. Other than his ‘creators’, no one, it seemed, knew who or what the Arcadian was. Most of the international spy networks had had to put it down to American myth-making, but Adira knew the Arcadian was no myth – the report and the man beside her proved that.
She remembered the impact when he had struck the group of Takavaran – their broken bodies had flown through the air like empty sacks. He had destroyed half a dozen deadly Special Forces soldiers without firing a shot. She recalled some of the analysis from the stolen report: ‘Potential ability to change lethal battlefield dynamics’. Yes, he would, she thought. Alex Hunter in battle would change the rules of ground combat.
Adira looked again at Alex as he turned to listen to something out in the dark. What would it be like if Israel had men such as he to patrol our borders? We could all sleep soundly again at night.
Her brows knitted as she remembered another line in the report
: ‘subject displays sporadic periods of lethal instability’. Lethal instability, she repeated to herself, what does that mean? She knew all about battlefield psychosis, instability and trauma – she could see none of them in this man. He looked strong, in control… and stable.
She looked at his jawline, and then his mouth. An image formed and she looked away quickly, and put a hand over her own mouth to hide her smile. She had seen herself kissing him.
They stopped next to a large rock, and Alex took his glove off to lay his hand on its flat surface. To Adira it probably looked like he was testing the stone for residual warmth in the cool night air; in fact, he was feeling for vibrations. He didn’t plan on hanging around here long enough to plant more seismic monitors, but he still didn’t want anything tunnelling up into their camp.
Adira sat back against the rock and turned her head up to see his face. ‘So what does Captain Alex Hunter, codenamed “Arcadian”, do with himself when he’s not saving the world on the other side of the planet?’
Her smile was disarming and Alex was sure it had made fools of many men before. He still found it hard to believe she was a lethal Mossad agent with quite a few kills on her sheet. He ignored the Arcadian fishing expedition and decided to play along.
‘Right now, I miss clear blue water and lying on a white sandy beach.’ He drew in a deep breath as if to inhale the images that were forming in his mind. Just saying the words out loud made him think of sun-dried shorts, sand up to his ankles, the feeling of slight sunburn and a crusting of salt on his shoulders. For a moment, he could almost see the beach towels hanging over a wooden porch railing to dry.
‘Plenty of sand here, Alex.’ She grinned at him. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, we have truckloads of it in the Middle East. Now let me see, there’s no ring on your finger – anyone lying on the beach waiting for you at home?’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘Once, but not anymore – too many missions, too many nightmares. Makes it hard to sustain a relationship, let alone talk about long-term plans, when you can’t even promise to come back from the next project.’ His face turned stony and he changed the subject. ‘Come on now, your turn. Tell me about Adira Senesh, brilliant young Mossad torpedo.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘Torpedo? Hah, I thought I had a little more shape than that. Well, let’s see, I do competitive archery some weekends, and I’m a member of the Tel Aviv shooting club.’
‘Rifles?’
‘No, twenty-two calibre target pistols. I could have competed at the Olympics, but my career with Mossad overtook everything.’ She was quiet for a moment, then cocked her head slightly at a thought. ‘I like horse riding.’ She looked at him quickly as though to check he wasn’t about to make fun of her. When Alex didn’t, she went on. ‘I have a horse called Vulcan, he’s an Appaloosa. I ride him along the water’s edge at the Sea of Galilee, or sometimes up to the views of the Golan Heights. Do you ride, Alex?’ She leaned across and looked into his face. Her brows were knitted, as though the question was the most important he would answer today.
‘Yes, but not as much as I’d like to. Hey, running, horse riding, archery, shooting – not much of an action girl, are you?’ He raised his eyebrows and smiled.
He saw her lips part to say something else when the subsonic scream rang out again – closer this time. Alex turned away and gritted his teeth, trying to focus on its whereabouts. This time he could tell it wasn’t coming from a mechanical device due to the organic rise and fall in the modulation. It wasn’t just a random screech either, it was a call – too crude to be called a language, but definitely something trying to communicate across the dark landscape.
This mission had long moved past being weird; now it was starting to get damn creepy. Alex watched the dark desert for a moment or two then looked up at the stars. He checked his watch and pulled his glove back on. He had to get them moving again.
‘Time to get going, Ms Senesh.’
‘Call me Addy.’
‘Okay, time to saddle up, Addy.’
The creature stopped once again to sample the air. The gamma particles in the slight breeze drew it along an invisible path. It had felt again the tingling warmth of the radiation and remembered its own world – the warmth, the humidity, and its own kind.
It climbed a small mound and raised itself up – a massive column of razor claws and armour plating, silent and still as the trunk of a mighty tree. Both eyestalks swivelled and the three bulbs in each focused on the distance. Its eyes searched the horizon and found tiny flaring dots moving across the sand – infrared images of warm bodies.
Its mandibles opened and closed with a sticky viscous sound and it dropped back to the sand. Hunger was gnawing once again at its core.
It increased its pace to catch up with the small moving figures.
THIRTY-THREE
The HAWCs reached the cave at about three in the morning. From their position, crouching at the base of an old rock fall, they could detect no movement, thermal presence or any sound coming from the cave.
Alex went alone to stand in the enormous mouth of the ancient cave. The primitive smell of the tunnel ahead threatened to overwhelm him, and though he couldn’t discern any threats to his team, he found it difficult to take another step forward. He’d lost an entire team of HAWCs in a cold dark maze below the Antarctic and it still haunted his dreams. He’d never suffered from claustrophobia before, but the idea of entering another cave system was making him feel tense and uneasy.
Alex shook his head as if throwing off beads of cold water, then took one step, and another. Limestone coolness flowed from the tunnel’s depths and he knew there must be a vast labyrinth deep in the mountain. He stopped and marvelled at the giant statue standing guard at the entrance: a colossal, scowling warrior holding a sword as tall as a man.
Adira came and stood beside him. ‘Shapur the Great – a warrior king and the mightiest of the Sassanid rulers. He brought wisdom and peace for his entire rule. His statue has stood guard over Arak and this land for nearly two thousand years.’
‘We could do with a few more leaders like that today,’ Alex said. ‘Let’s get inside; we can rest for a while.’ He turned to the group. ‘Irish, you and I will take first watch outside. Sam, Rocky, you’re up next. Ms Senesh and Dr Shomron, please get some rest as you’ll be needed to guide us into the facilities.’
Alex saw O’Riordan stare at him for a moment, then blink and turn away. Looking forward to that, aren’t you, buddy? he thought.
He’d purposely chosen O’Riordan to do the first watch with him. He figured Irish must have been affected by what happened to Hex – who wouldn’t be – but the man needed to put it aside, and, if he had any residual anger, channel it into his mission. Everyone dealt with loss or failure in a different way. He’d heard Irish’s comments about Hex – blaming others was a weak but standard defensive mechanism that kept the blamer’s ego and reputation intact. Still, that didn’t mean that person couldn’t learn from the experience. For the last few hours, Irish had seemed withdrawn. Alex wanted this one-on-one time to see if he could open him up a little.
They took a position just twenty feet from the mouth of the cave that provided an unbroken view over the Markazi Plains. They sat with their backs to a sheer rock face that rose a hundred feet into the air. Alex broke off a piece of hard tack and handed it to the redheaded HAWC, who shook his head. Alex popped the tack into his own mouth; he lived on the stuff while on missions – it was lightweight and provided him with concentrated protein. His supercharged metabolism burned up protein twice as fast as a normal man’s did, and he often lost several pounds on a mission. He needed his fuel.
‘So, enjoying the new squad, Lieutenant?’
‘Has its moments,’ O’Riordan said and turned away, signalling a distinct lack of interest in the conversation.
Alex could tell there was something burning inside the man and he was determined to draw it out before they entered a potential conflict zone. ‘Oh yeah, you g
ot that right,’ he said. ‘Lieutenant Winters certainly had his moment. What do you think he’d want to say to you if he was here now?’
The question took O’Riordan by surprise. He looked briefly at Alex and then skywards for a few seconds before shaking his head.
Alex pressed him. ‘Think he might have some advice for you? Want to tell you something? Come on, Irish, use your imagination. What would your team leader want to say to his point man after being tied to a chair, tortured and then burned alive?’
O’Riordan was still shaking his head, as if to distance himself from the other HAWC’s savage death. His teeth were clamped shut, but suddenly they sprang open and a string of obscenities spewed out. Eventually O’Riordan got himself under control and answered the question. ‘He’d fuckin’ say, “You got me killed!” But I didn’t – that asshole committed suicide the moment he walked us into the trap.’ He threw a handful of pebbles and scree out into the desert and folded his arms, still muttering curses to himself.
Alex studied the man. He could tell that Irish didn’t believe it was Hex’s own fault he’d got killed; it was just that he didn’t believe he was to blame either. ‘Okay, tell me what happened, soldier. I wasn’t there.’
O’Riordan described the ambush, laying all the blame squarely at Hex Winter’s feet. He reckoned they should have had two out at point, or at least a man at long point, given they knew there were hostiles in the vicinity. Besides, what good was a man out at point when they got hit from behind at the same time? Hex should have had them all monitoring their electronics in the dark rather than relying on their own senses. They knew there were Takavaran squads spread out in the desert, and they’d managed to find not one but two.
‘Look, Captain, Hex paid the price for his mistake and it was fuckin’ bad luck, but we all coulda been wiped out. Sorry, but that’s it.’
