by Greig Beck
González’s hands curled into claws and he crouched, ready to spring. Alex saw some of the ropy tendrils slide around under his skin and tighten, as though they were the strings of a giant marionette.
‘Now!’ Alex yelled.
He hoped Aimee understood his intent as he raised his arm and fired a stream of projectiles at the thing. From behind him, another stream shot out, hitting González in the neck and head before sliding up towards the roof and dying out.
Alex directed his spray at the priest’s shoulder, keeping it focused for as long as he could before González spun away … long enough to nearly sever the arm. González howled again and leapt towards the steps – and potential escape. He was fast, but he was also damaged, and had underestimated Alex.
Alex leapt too, colliding with the priest’s naked torso. He heard a satisfying crunch of cartilage as he slammed the body backwards onto the stone floor. When González got to his feet again, his arm was hanging loosely by his side. He snarled.
‘Hurts, doesn’t it?’ Alex said, and charged again.
He cannoned into the man, hurling him backwards into the far wall. Before the body even hit, Alex had his arm up, directing another deadly accurate stream at the thing’s leg. The thousands of high-speed spikes cut through the thigh, partially severing it.
González stuck to the wall again, but this time there was no grin. With a sickening, sticky sound, the limb fell away from his body. There was no spurt of blood; instead, strings of dark mucilaginous tendrils stretched from the severed leg back up to its ragged stump. Alex watched in horror and disgust as the threads tightened and began to reel in the limb.
Aimee directed another short burst at the man’s torso, the dark holes that appeared in his chest testifying to the hits. The priest grew still and silent. His bulging eyes swivelled to Aimee, one moving more slowly than the other. His mouth opened and he slurred, ‘I am sick, child. Please forgive me.’
‘He’s trying to buy himself time,’ Alex warned. ‘He’s—’
He didn’t need to finish. Aimee’s slim arm lifted again, wavering slightly from the strain.
‘Fuck forgiveness. This is for Francisco, you demon from hell.’
The spikes shot into the thing’s face, slicing flesh from its skull. Alex fired again too, cutting through the tendrils that were recovering the injured leg, then severing the other leg. González fell to the ground.
Alex walked over and placed his foot on the priest’s chest. There was no blood, despite the massive trauma. The skull, where it was exposed, was grey instead of white, like that of a skeleton you might see in a museum.
González reached up with his remaining arm and grabbed Alex’s ankle, but could get no leverage to throw the HAWC off. Alex felt the crushing strength that still remained in the man’s arm and lifted the gauntlet slowly, pointing it at González’s face.
The priest began to laugh, the words coming thickly from behind his gore-soaked beard. ‘Creature of the dirt, we will meet again.’
Alex smiled back. ‘I doubt that … your holiness.’
He fired at the other shoulder, severing the final limb. Still the hand continued to grip his ankle. He finished by cutting through the neck and kicking the misshapen head away to the far wall. The odour of the thing’s open flesh was vile.
‘Yuck.’ Aimee covered her mouth and nose.
Alex shook off the talon around his ankle and kicked the limbs away from the body. He pulled a small canister of liquid fuel from a pouch at his side and doused the torso, then stepped back and nodded to Aimee. She threw the flaming torch onto the carcass and stepped back too.
Alex waited mere seconds to make sure the corpse was fully alight before grabbing her arm and leading her up and out of the pit.
Behind them, in the shadows, the priest’s severed head lay in the dirt. One of its eyes swivelled to watch them go.
FORTY-ONE
Up in the main room, Alex looked back at the pit, now glowing red-hot from the burning remains, and over to the massive block that was partially covering the doorway. ‘Just one more thing,’ he said.
As he put his hands on the stone, a small face appeared in the gap.
‘Encontró a Chaco, señora?’ Saqueo asked, looking from Aimee to Alex and then back again.
Ah shit, thought Alex. They had protected Saqueo from seeing the small body out in the clearing; he was probably hoping his little brother had been trapped somewhere inside the old church. He exhaled, suddenly feeling his fatigue. And the pain never ends …
He turned to Aimee. ‘Take him outside … and talk to him.’
He could hear Aimee speaking softly to the boy in halting Spanish as she led him from the church, but he shut it from his mind. He placed both hands on the corner of the stone and his foot against the wall, sucked in a deep breath and gritted his teeth. At first, nothing, but then a minuscule tilt. Alex screamed with the exertion; he felt his muscles protesting, and one of the healing wounds on his chest ripped open.
The giant stone balanced on its corner for a second, then, in slow motion, began to topple. Alex leapt back and lifted one arm up to protect his eyes.
With a thunderous noise, the stone fell across the hole. Alex nodded. ‘Just in case.’
He walked around the slab, noticing only the tiniest of gaps where it rested against the stone floor.
‘You okay?’ Aimee nodded towards the cuts, punctures and bruises on Alex’s face and body as he kneeled down next to her beside Sam.
He grimaced and raised his arm to feel his ribs. ‘You did shoot me by accident back there, didn’t you?’
Aimee gave him a half-smile. ‘Of course. If I’d wanted to shoot you, I’d have aimed better.’
Alex tore open a small foil packet and broke the capsule inside under Sam’s nose. Sam spluttered then groaned. Alex pulled him to a sitting position, but Aimee put her hand out.
‘Wait! Should we be moving him?’
‘Move him or leave him,’ Alex said. ‘Seconds count now.’
After a moment, she gave an almost imperceptible nod and held out a canteen. Alex took it and splashed some water over the HAWC’s head.
‘Come on, big fella, we’ve got miles to go and not much time.’
Sam drank deeply, and then blinked several times. ‘What happened? Are we still in the desert, or are we …? Oh yeah, I remember. Where’s González?’
‘Ashes by now, we hope,’ Alex said.
Sam smiled, but then his face dropped. Alex knew he’d remembered his last few seconds of consciousness and was performing an inventory of his injuries. Sam exhaled and his frame seemed to shrink slightly. ‘Sorry, boss, don’t think I’m going anywhere today.’ He reached down and squeezed his legs, then closed his eyes. ‘Might just stay here awhile … enjoy the night air.’
Alex clasped his friend hard by the shoulder. ‘Is that right?’
Sam shook his head. ‘Legs don’t work.’
‘Mine do,’ Alex said. ‘No time to argue, soldier; you’re coming.’
He tore open another silver capsule and held it out to Aimee. ‘Hyper-stimulant aerosol; it’ll give you about another hour’s energy.’ She hesitated and he pushed it at her. ‘Go on, you’ll need it.’
Aimee inhaled, and her head shot back as if she’d been kicked in the face. ‘Ow, that stings.’ She scowled at Alex before sneezing twice.
Alex pulled his satellite-positioning device from a side pouch and checked where they were. He called Saqueo over and turned to Sam. ‘Tell him we need to move very fast and he must keep up.’
Sam spoke quickly. Saqueo asked a question while pointing at himself.
Sam nodded. ‘Si, si, rápidamente.’
Saqueo looked back at the dark interior of the church and his mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Chaco era de lo más rapido corriendo.’
Sam nodded. ‘Yeah, I bet he was a fast runner. Let’s just get you out of here.’ He looked up at Alex. ‘You drive, I’ll navigate.’
‘Deal. And you
can do the talking – my comm unit’s busted. Tell the Hammer we’re on our way; and get on to Franks too. Tell her she’s not to leave the party without us.’
Alex lifted his second-in-command onto his back and Sam wrapped his bear-like arms around Alex’s shoulders and chest. His legs hung down uselessly, so Alex bound them together with cord in front of his waist to stop Sam’s large frame slipping off as he ran.
Sam pointed east and Alex set off. Aimee and Saqueo had to sprint to keep up with the HAWC leader as he raced through the jungle, their way made slightly easier because of the green tunnel he forged for them.
‘For Chrissakes, Reid, they don’t have the fuel to hang around in the air. Tell Captain Hunter to damn well be there, or be prepared to walk home.’
Hammerson paced to the other side of his office, swearing while the voice on the line spoke again. What he heard made him curse even louder before he was calm enough to reply.
‘Look, I’ll see what I can do – just goddamn get there.’
He finished with a final incendiary blast at First Lieutenant Samuel Reid, then signed off and flung himself down in front of his computer screen. The three dots were converging. Franks was already in position; the big V22 chopper was over land and closing fast – it would get to Franks in approximately twenty minutes. It was dot three, Alex and his team, that made him groan out loud. They were still miles away.
Then a small grin appeared on his lined face as he picked up the phone and punched in some numbers. Arcadian’s alive.
‘Ha! Now you know why I let you make the call,’ Alex shouted over his shoulder.
Sam laughed. His leader never ceased to amaze him. Here he was, carrying a big ox like himself on his back without showing the slightest fatigue, and at the same time overhearing the Hammer’s blasting being delivered to the inside of Sam’s ear.
Sam pulled his head to one side as yet another branch threatened to whip him across the face, then held the GPS up to see the small screen. He indicated a slight shift in their direction, and Alex veered towards where he pointed, punching a new hole through the damp, green curtain of vegetation.
Inside the church, a mewling sound came from underneath the granite slab that now covered the dark hole. The red glow of the fire had died down and black greasy smoke leaked out through the gap between the rock and the floor.
A thin tendril unfurled from the smoke, and a round grey blob appeared at its tip. The blob split down the middle to reveal an opaque eye, which hung motionless for a moment, before the tendril bulged and thickened and burst open in a knot of grey worms that pulsed and flopped free of the gap. The grey rubbery mass lay still, the eye on the stalk waving back and forth, as if examining its surroundings. Satisfied that it was safe, the creature lifted itself up on tiny sucker-tipped legs and, grub-like, made its way towards the door.
FORTY-TWO
The V22 sped over the treetops, its twin Rolls-Royce Liberty turbo shafts emitting little more than a high-pitched whine. Despite its size, the machine moved gracefully at a speed twice that of anything comparable. Stripped down as it was, it could also get more than five times the range. Hammerson had begged, bullied and bartered to get access to the giant helicopter in the first place. But getting the US Navy to turn a ship around and close in on another country’s territorial waters just to give the giant machine another ten minutes’ airtime had used up every last ounce of goodwill he was owed, along with all his poker credits.
The pilot knew little of the mission or the pick-up. He had coordinates – GPS dots – but only the Hammer could talk to the people on the ground. The chopper’s cargo bay was designed to carry twenty-four fully equipped combat troops, but today there was only one man sitting there. Their orders had just been amended: they’d been given ten extra minutes of hover time at the rendezvous point.
The pilot shook his head. Though the country was fairly benign to the United States, if there was a flyover, they’d instantly be spotted sitting in the air like a giant dragonfly over a pond – and, at this point, he didn’t have any good answers as to why they were there.
He looked at his screen: five minutes to destination.
Saqueo stuck his tongue out in a mock panting action at the speed they were having to run at to keep pace with Alex. Aimee couldn’t manage more than a smile in response; every ounce of her energy was being directed to her legs, which felt like rubber … damned heavy rubber. The chemical stimulant was wearing off and she had red-hot cramps in a tightening band around her diaphragm.
Alex yelled over his shoulder to Sam, ‘Time to arrival?’
Sam looked at the small unit, yelled back, ‘Eleven minutes’, then gave the coordinates of both Franks and the V22.
Shit, another eleven minutes, Aimee thought. Might as well be eleven hours. She swallowed thick saliva, and her vision swam for a few seconds.
Alex called her name. Her mouth tried to form words but there was no air left in her lungs. He slowed, then turned, and she wobbled towards him. He grabbed her and pushed her hair back so he could look at her face. She grasped hold of his shoulder for balance, and took a small sip of water.
Saqueo was bent over sucking in huge breaths, but he seemed okay.
She moved her hand to Alex’s collar and pulled him a little closer. ‘Give me another blast.’
Sam reached over from his position on Alex’s back and felt her neck. ‘About 160 beats per minute – another hit could kill her.’
‘Just do it!’ Aimee exhaled the words as forcefully as she could, then gritted her teeth and stood a little straighter.
Alex thought for a second and nodded. Sam grunted and broke the last capsule, giving her the full dose. She inhaled deeply, feeling giddy as her heart fluttered in her chest and the deathly fatigue evaporated from her muscles. She grabbed Saqueo and waved the capsule under his nose for a second. He yelped and pulled away.
They started running again. Aimee noticed that Alex had increased his speed.
Casey Franks wrapped the belt around her waist and groin, and pressed the button to lift her from the jungle floor. As soon as she broke clear of the canopy, she sucked in a lungful of cooler air.
‘Jesus!’ The crewman’s mouth dropped open when he saw her walk up the lowered rear ramp of the giant helicopter. She knew she had a hundred grazes and scratches on her face and arms, and sap, twigs and dead bugs stuck in her close-cropped hair. She shrugged out of the harness and headed straight for him, causing him to take a half-step back.
‘Boo,’ she said, and winked as he handed her a set of head mics and a water canteen. She nodded her thanks and drained the canteen in seconds.
She pulled on the headset and turned her back to check her GPS unit. They’re close.
Grabbing a roof handle, she walked a few paces down the open ramp, pulled a small monoscope from a pouch and scanned the thick jungle for any sign of her team. An impossible task really, given the amount of cover.
‘We can only wait five more minutes, then we’ve been ordered to evac,’ the crewman said.
Casey turned narrowed eyes on the young man then returned her attention to the forest floor. I’ll let you know if you can obey that order in four minutes, fifty-nine seconds, she thought.
Alex sensed the chopper before he heard it. The huge dual props displaced a lot of downward air pressure and the density changes moved through the still forest, felt by some of the local wildlife and him.
‘We’re here,’ he yelled.
In another minute, they all heard the chopper, and then in a few more they could see it.
Alex picked up Hammerson’s message as it was delivered into Sam’s communication pellet: Four minutes until detonation.
Two cables dangled from the rear of the hovering behemoth. Alex didn’t stop until he had one belt secured around Aimee and Saqueo, and the other around his own waist. Sam held onto the cable above Alex’s head. There wouldn’t be two lifts – they would all go up at once, or not at all.
Even as they rose above the
canopy, the giant helicopter started to move off.
Adira stood hidden behind the tree line some distance from the USSTRATCOM base. Though she faced the rows of administration buildings, her eyes were screwed shut as she listened to the small pellet in her ear. She’d heard Hammerson’s communication of the countdown’s final minutes, and her lips had moved silently in an ancient Hebrew prayer as she willed Alex Hunter to make the critical rendezvous.
Now, she exhaled and leaned back against a tree. She brought one hand to her lips and kissed the small blue star inked on the meat between her thumb and forefinger. Thank you, she whispered before melting back into the woodland.
FORTY-THREE
Tomás pushed open the cabin door. ‘Perdóneme, señora.’ He had brought the doctor a small cup of water. He kneeled beside her cot and saw that her eyes were still open, but she didn’t move or acknowledge him in any way.
He spoke again, this time in English. ‘Excuse me, please.’
Still nothing.
He put the cup down on the floor and touched her shoulder, then shook it gently. The woman’s head turned towards him in a dreamy, slow motion, and an empty syringe clattered to the floor.
A small bell sounded behind him, and he turned towards the source of the chime – a silver case.
The chiming stopped, and he heard the woman whisper one word, a name: Michael. Then Tomás’s world turned white.
‘Stay away from the windows,’ the pilot ordered.
His voice cut out in a blast of white noise as a searing light flooded the cabin through the port and starboard windows.
Aimee put her hand on Sam’s arm, as though to help brace him. Sam patted her hand and smiled, the light from the windows turning his face from X-ray white to a darker reddish glow. Aimee’d wanted him strapped down and immobilised on a makeshift spinal board, but he had protested furiously on the grounds that he’d just been carried through miles of jungle on the back of a galloping, two-legged horse. How much more damage could he sustain from sitting up now? They’d compromised by belting him, in a sitting position, to one of the metal benches in the long fuselage.
