Daemon: Night of the Daemon

by Harry Shannon

  "Bogey is taking the bait," Whiz said. "She has started moving your way."

  "Pops, leave her to Guri and me. Go back and find bogey three. Let's hope he's still near that rock face."

  "He's there," Whiz said.

  Lehane imagined Pops scouring the edge of the short cliff through his scope, looking for the man who'd just arrived. One problem had been solved.

  But now Guri was effectively trapped between two of the enemy.

  "Okay, bogey one is fixated on the porch. Target is available, I say again, target is available."

  "I'm worried about the third. You find him yet, Pops?"

  "No, but I will handle him."

  Lehane decided. "Okay, people, it is show time. Guri, you're up first. Give bogey one a verbal warning. If she doesn't respond soonest, we assume she's the shit eater and take her ass out."

  "Roger that."

  "Jeff, she's awfully close to the porch."

  "On my mark. We go in five, four, three, two…"

  Lehane spun around the corner, glad to be active at last. Whiz activated the floods they had planted along the edge of the porch. The harsh lighting made the woman appear even more horrific than she had on the monitor. She tried to look up at the lights and shield her eyes at the same time. Her neck was clearly broken, bulging eyes red with broken blood vessels, dark tongue protruding.

  "Guri, hit it."

  The trash in the gazebo exploded in every direction as the young Israeli rose up out of the muck, weapon raised. "Freeze, get down on the ground."

  The woman grunted and clumsily ran straight for him, her arms flailing. The keening sounds escalated into a screech that hurt their ears.

  "Guri, light her up!"

  But the order was unnecessary because Guri was already firing the M14, the bright tracer rounds like blinding white darts, puffing out the back of her clothing and removing huge chunks of sizzling hot flesh. What was left of her slammed backwards into the porch railing and danced a jig in the air, held aloft by the blistering bullets, until she finally exploded into a pile of steaming hamburger meat and fell to the ground.

  For several heartbeats their ears rang. No one spoke, nothing moved. Lehane blinked bright dots away and tried to get an angle from the window.

  He could not.

  "Guri, she's landed too close to the porch, I can't use the phosphorus grenades from here."

  "I'm already re-loading." Guri slammed another clip into place. He approached the body cautiously, M14 leading the way like a divining rod. "She looks really smoked to me, boss."

  "Play it safe, bro." Lehane instinctively backed away from the open window as he spoke. "Pops, you got bogey three yet?"

  "Got him and lost him."

  "What?"

  "I had him in the crosshairs for a second, but he zigged when I zagged. Man in a dark suit. Whoever this joker is, he seems to know how we're positioned and when to cover his ass."

  Even Enrique doesn't know all of the mission details. Could it be Mike Castle? But why the hell would Castle come back up here after being fired? And who the hell is the other intruder?

  "Sandy, what about the guy coming up the back way?"

  "Still moving, but we've got plenty of time."

  "Guri?"

  There was no answer.

  "Guri, you there?"

  Lehane shivered from what felt like a horde of tiny, ice-cold insects crawling up his spinal cord. He lowered the grenade launcher, armed his Glock, turned back to the open window and looked down.

  Guri had lowered the M14. He was staring at the mass of scorched flesh and steaming entrails piled at his feet as if hypnotized. His calm blue eyes were wide and his jaw had dropped open in an almost comical way. He nudged something with the toe of his combat boot, before stepping back. He finally spoke, and his normally light voice was tremulous and strained.

  "Boss, you'd better have a look at this."

  Lehane leaned out the window and zeroed in on what was left of the smoldering body. His gorge rose and acid flooded his throat. He gagged. The whole team heard his reaction in their headsets.

  "God."

  Down below, the scorched flesh was moving. It writhed, rolled and slid like a basket of red and blue snakes among the tattered scraps of clothing and bone, almost as if trying to reassemble itself. In the middle of a dark puddle of viscous fluid sat most of her lower face, clacking like a pair of chattering teeth.

  "Guri?"

  "Man, I think I'm going to puke."

  "Get it together."

  Pops exploded in their earphones. "Bogey number three is armed. I say again he has a weapon."

  THIRTY-TWO

  "Stay sharp, people." Lehane gripped his Glock and scanned the garden for the next intruder. "I guess we all missed the part where the Professor said there could be more than one Bhuta at a time. This might be just the beginning. I want calm, clear thinking and attention to detail from every one of you. Guri, move your ass in here, get up those steps and into the building. Set up at the foot of the stairs and secure the lobby. Then we'll figure out what to do with…the rest of her."

  Down below, Guri froze. The clicking teeth rolled across the pavement and tried to bite his boot. They worked their way up his pants at lightning speed. Guri backed up a step, kicking his leg like a man trying to free himself from an attacking puppy, something more annoying than threatening. A strange sound emerged from his throat that was half groan and half giggle.

  "What the…?"

  The teeth climbed and squeezed, seeking blood. Guri raised his rifle with one hand and pawed at his side arm with the other, but at the last moment could not shoot himself in the thigh.

  "Damn." The word was pressured, tight although not yet panicked.

  "Guri, get in here. Talk to me, Pops," Lehane said. His eyes were on the dark garden and his mind focused on the armed man hiding there. "Where is he?"

  "I only saw him for half a second, boss. He's big and carrying a hand gun of some kind."

  Guri finally managed to scream. Startled, Lehane backed away from the window before locating the sound. By the time he'd returned to the ledge and leaned over, Guri was struggling with something that seemed attached to the narrow band of exposed flesh between the glove on his left hand and the sleeve of his jacket.

  "Oh, God," Guri cried. His voice was filled with outrage and despair. "She bit me, man. She bit me."

  God damn it God damn it. Lehane felt his mind coming unhinged at the moorings. What the hell do we do now?

  Guri wailed, high and shrill. "I can feel something in my blood!"

  "Get in the house," Lehane barked, but then doubted the wisdom of his own order. What will happen to Guri, now that it's in his system?

  "I'm so fucked," Guri cried. He raised his pistol and fired four times at close range, blowing off his own forearm. A gush of blood followed. Guri dropped to his knees with the butchered arm raised high, hot blood spurting, and fired again at the jawbone that now lay on the cement, shattering it into tiny fragments. He stumbled backwards a few steps, sat down in the driveway with a moan and cradled his wound. Incredibly, he managed to rapidly tie it off with his own belt.

  "Jeff?" Sandy, at the console and growing worried. Lehane was vaguely aware of Whiz, muttering helplessly as he watched the monitors.

  "I see him in the cornfield," Pops cried. "I'm taking the shot."

  "Wait!"

  A red laser dot danced through the tall stalks of corn and the sound that carried down from the hills was as sharp as the snap of a broken branch. It repeated itself as it echoed between deserted buildings.

  By firing, Pops had given away his position.

  "Did you hit anything?"

  "Unknown, boss."

  Lehane leaned out of the window. Guri was flat on his back next to his rifle. He was staring up at the window, one leg at a strange angle, hugging his amputated arm. His eyes seemed abnormally large, his skin damp and pale. A few feet away closer to the porch steps sat the dark, bubbling pool of what ha
d once been the drunken cowgirl. It seemed to be losing energy.

  "Hang on, Guri."

  Guri moved his lips but no sound carried. Lehane took a deep breath. "Sandy, where's the other bogey?"

  "Ten minutes and closing. How is Guri?"

  "I don't know yet. Cut the outdoor lights. Bring both of your weapons and take this window."

  "On my way."

  "Pops, I'm going to try to get to him. You and Sandy will have to cover me."

  "Got it."

  Lehane left the grenade launcher and tucked the Glock in his belt. He whirled and started back toward the door, met Sandy in the small hallway and took the small, compact Calico M960A from her grasp. They did not speak. He ran down the stairs two at a time and stopped at the mortuary entrance. The yard was now dark. What if he's one of them, now? How would I know?

  Lehane closed his eyes. "Give me a second to get some night vision."

  Outside, in the oppressive darkness, Guri moaned and muttered two words that sounded like "no" and "don't."

  Lehane cringed and shook away a tidal wave of guilt. He spoke in modulated tones, as softly as he dared. "Hang in there, bro. I'm coming."

  He opened the front door a crack, flinched at the sound of the rusty hinges and peered outside. It was difficult to see clearly. Guri was in the same position as before, but seemed to be pawing at something in the dirt nearby. He kept mouthing No and again No.

  "When I move you guys pepper the corn field. I want whoever is in there eating dirt for at least ten seconds."

  Guri had stopped groping around. He found something and began laughing like a pleased little boy at a surprise birthday party, bringing that something back to his chest and gripping the bottom half between his legs…

  …"Go!" Lehane yanked the door open. Pops and Sandy fired efficiently into the tall stalks of corn, Sandy's shots lighting up the night and giving Lehane a perfect view as Guri put the rifle into the center of his chest, reached down and pulled the trigger and blew himself wide open. Now it was Lehane saying No and then No again, turning in a frustrated circle and going back into the mortuary where his face ran with tears.

  The racket died down as Sandy and Pops reloaded their weapons. The eerie night fell silent, except for the thin echo of gunfire still bouncing off the foothills. The headsets held only ragged breathing.

  "Guri killed himself," Lehane said, finally. "He knew he was turning into one of…them."

  "Hello?"

  A man's voice came from out in the cornfield. Lehane crouched low and sought cover behind the thickest part of the wall. "Pops, you're exposed. Find a new position and report back in ten minutes."

  "But, boss…"

  "Do it."

  "Hello?" That voice again, someone familiar. Lehane armed the Calico before he answered.

  "What are you doing out here, Mike?"

  "Jesus, you guys nearly killed me a second ago. Is Pops still okay?" Castle sounded both excited and scared, no longer drunk. But is it really Mike Castle? How can I tell?

  "You should know better than to sneak up on us."

  "Hey, I planned on announcing myself."

  "When, exactly?"

  "Well, before I crashed the party." He moved around in the garden, Lehane could hear what sounded like crunching.

  "What do you want, Mike?"

  "Pops is my friend, even if he did just part my hair with a bullet. I want to help you out."

  "Have you spotted anyone else?

  "No. Can I come inside? It's cold out here, and your team just put some fresh holes in my underwear."

  Lehane whispered into the headset. "Sandy, can you see anything?"

  "No."

  "Find him."

  "I'll turn the outside lights on."

  He closed his eyes. "Go ahead."

  The lights came up and Lehane heard Sandy react when she saw what was left of Guri Meier.

  "Okay, Mike," Lehane called. "How about you stand and let us see you."

  A long moment passed. "Here I come," Castle replied. "Don't shoot."

  Lehane edged the door open and pointed the Calico at the garden. He heard more rustling, and then Mike Castle appeared. He had what looked like a 357 Magnum in his right fist, pointed down at the ground. He waved in the air with his left. His clothing was torn and some blood was splattered lightly across his shirt.

  Lehane sighted on him. "Hold it right there."

  "Damn, man," Castle said, his voice tightening, "cut me some slack. You know what's out here hunting us."

  "Yeah, I do. Keep talking so I know you're okay."

  "I saw what happened to Guri, man. I'm sorry. He was one of the good guys, like Pops, you know? I always liked him"

  A noise in the corn? Castle flinched. "Lehane, I'm begging. Let me come in."

  "I see blood on your shirt."

  "You damned near shot me to death not a minute ago. My scalp got grazed. What did you expect?"

  "Walk towards me slowly. Sandy, if he raises the weapon fire."

  A bogey moved in the undergrowth, just south and west of the garden. Something large was coming their way fast. Castle's face contorted with terror. He grunted and stumbled forward with the gun gripped in both hands, but still pointed down. "There's something else out here, man." His voice broke on the last syllable. "I need to come inside."

  "Castle is right, I can see someone in the garden," Sandy said in the earpiece. Her tone was steely calm. "A man, I think, bobbing and weaving around. He is right on Mike's ass."

  "Do you have a shot?"

  "Wait one."

  Castle was closer now, nearing the puddle that was the woman. He saw Guri and gave that body a wide berth. Lehane could finally see Castle breathing, sweating, clearly winded from the long climb. He relaxed a bit and opened the door. "Hurry."

  From above three quick shots as Sandy honed in on the new bogey. "Definitely a man," she said. "Some guy in a cowboy shirt and jeans."

  Lehane hustled the exhausted Castle inside the lobby. He slammed and locked the front door. "Did you hit him, Sandy?"

  "I think so, but it didn't seem to slow his ass down any."

  "We're coming upstairs. Whiz, what have you got on the other bogey?"

  Whiz sounded two inches from hysterical. "He stopped at the edge of the eastern trees, boss. Near the animal pens, I think. His heat signature is too close to theirs, so I don't know what's going on. Where is Pops?"

  "He will check in from his new position. Everybody calm down for a second." Lehane moved the microphone away from his face. He grabbed Castle by the shoulder. "Why did you come back?"

  Mike Castle was drenched with sweat, had some minor scrapes from rocks and thorns. He seemed both terrified and humbled.

  "I've never been fired before. It pissed me off, so I turned around." Two pink dots appeared on his pale cheeks. "At first I was still drunk, and I planned on bitching to Pops to see if he'd talked to you. After I got closer, I started thinking you were right and I was wrong."

  "You were wrong."

  "Look, I want to fix things, if it's not too late. I thought maybe you and Pops could still use my help."

  "As it turns out, maybe we can."

  Castle nodded, grimly. He looked past Lehane at the night outside, beyond the closed wooden doors. "Man, its damned fucking scary out there."

  "Yeah," Lehane muttered. "By the way, what are you packing?"

  "Not much," Castle said. "Just this Taurus and a couple of speed loaders with hollow-points. I figured we have enough firepower in the building."

  "Man, I sure hope so." Lehane motioned to the staircase with the Calico M960A. "Come on, let's get upstairs."

  THIRTY-THREE

  "Stay sharp, Whiz. You're our eyes until Pops checks in again." Lehane, Castle and Sandy gathered in the upstairs office, next to the open window. All three of their faces had the drawn, far-away stare soldiers get in combat. Lehane knew Whiz wanted to call Spinks for some serious firepower, maybe even summon the Highway Patrol. He was waiting for the
order.

  We don't have that kind of time, Lehane thought, miserably. Worse yet, the more people we bring here, the bigger the chance of this demon being spread all over the state…maybe the world.

  Lehane looked at what remained of his team. "This Bhuta thing cannot leave here. Does everybody get that?"

  Sandy's head jerked up and down.

  "So we destroy it or die trying," Castle said, "but I feel like its fourth and thirty and we don't have a punter. What's 'Plan B'?"

  Sandy arched a brow. "If you've got any brilliant ideas of your own, Mike, now's the time to let us know."

  "Not a one," Castle said. "At least things can't get much worse."

  From the speakers: "Uh, they just did."

  Lehane groaned. "What is it, Whiz?"

  "Get over to the computer and check out the downstairs monitors, especially camera six—that embalming table with the body bag on it."

  Sandy got there first, seated herself and brought up a gloomy image. The small security camera was mounted in the ceiling of the embalming room at the south side of the mortuary, near the crematorium. It was focused down on the two metal draining tables, although it also picked up part of the empty shelf designed to hold additional corpses waiting to be processed.

  "I can't see anything," Castle muttered.

  "We're working on it." Sandy and Whiz clarified the picture and enlarged the embalming table that held young Ben Feldman's corpse in a green military body bag.

  "Got it, now what's up? Everything looks quiet."

  "Wait one," Whiz said.

  Lehane blinked, not sure if his eyes had deceived him. It happened again. The body bag bulged a bit, down near the end of the table, probably where the legs were located.

  Mike Castle chuckled like someone on the edge. "Ladies and Gentlemen, young Doctor Feldman is doing the Hokey Pokey."

  Lehane barked orders. "Castle, take the front window. Sandy, stay on the computer. You work with Whiz to keep our perimeter secure. Move."

  Castle lumbered back to the front room, Sandy leaned forward and began to scan their surroundings. Lehane took the small, shotgun-like launcher and two white phosphorus grenades, tucked his Glock into his belt and jogged for the staircase. He threw one last instruction over his left shoulder. "When Pops checks in, tell him to work his way down to the building. We're going to have to make a stand, and I want us close together."