Devil's Den

by Jeff Altabef

  The tape works; Gabriel’s thumbprint opens the door and starts the vehicle. I ease it out of the parking lot. I’ve already memorized the satellite photos. I shut off the headlights and switch on stealth mode. The windshield brightens with night vision. The chrome portions of the car and the windows blacken. The gas engine shuts off and the car relies solely upon the electric engine. The car won’t go quite as fast at top speed, but that doesn’t bother me. I fight the urge to rush. I need to arrive unseen. I need patience.

  I drive along a country road that leads to the farm. A pickup truck whips toward me. The windshield flares for a second and then adjusts to the headlights. The night vision isn’t perfect yet, but it works well enough. The pickup speeds past, oblivious to the SUV.

  At times like this, I wonder if I’m still me, or if I’ve become something else. The demons inside me growl, the pressure in my mind building. They know what’s coming. Killing. A lot of killing. A dark part inside of me looks forward to it. Not Caesar or the normal voices I often hear, but something darker and more powerful. Troubling.

  My immediate problem—gaining entrance to the farm. A fence rings the property. I’ll bet my last dollar it’s supplemented with advanced motion detector technology. The kind they use at the borders now. If I had time, I could find a way around it. There’s always a dead spot or I could tunnel in, but that would take time, and time isn’t something I have.

  In an odd twist, the only way into the farm where I can avoid the motion detectors is the main entrance. They won’t use the detectors at the guardhouse. Why bother? That’s patrolled by armed men. That’s my way in, so long as I kill all the guards before they raise an alarm.

  I pull the SUV onto the shoulder of the road, three hundred yards from the entrance to the private road to the farm, and hop out. The rain comes down in a steady downpour. I open the SUV’s hatch. It looks like a plain, empty storage space, but a Homeland vehicle like this one will be loaded for bear. I push the back seats forward, grab the Q-Tip with Gabriel’s DNA on it, find the reader in the corner, and press the cotton against the screen. It flashes green and the false floor pops open. Hello, traveling arsenal.

  Gabriel didn’t mess around. I take an M18 with a silencer. That’ll come in handy. A small baton, a pair of brass knuckles that fits really well, three hand grenades, and one laser knife. I find a tube of night makeup. I smear the black grease on my exposed skin and streak my army jacket. I look at my reflection in the side mirror. A reasonable job. The night is dark, and the pounding rain will mask the sound of the SUV’s tires on the packed dirt road leading to the security gate.

  I grab the remote control for the SUV and ease the car onto the country road. Jogging behind, I find a sign that says, “Private Road Keep Out.” No guards patrol the turnoff. That would be noticeable from the road and might spur questions. Instead, guards man the roadblock at the entrance to the farm—I figure at least three of them, all armed with assault rifles.

  I’ll need a diversion, so I can kill the guards at the roadblock before they radio in to headquarters. Surprise is an important ally, one to treat with a healthy respect. I turn the SUV down the private country road. In stealth mode and the pouring rain, I can get within one hundred yards before the guards will notice anything, maybe even fifty, but I don’t need to be that close.

  The M18 is a good weapon. Even with the silencer, it’s more than accurate from one hundred yards away, and I’m a good shot. Not an expert marksman, but capable, better than most.

  One hundred yards from the roadblock, I stop the SUV, and use the scope. A small hut with a glass window sits to the left of the metal gate that blocks the entrance to the compound. Two guys dressed in red jumpsuits survey the road from inside the hut. Two other guys hang outside in the rain getting drenched and looking miserable. They stand off to the side, far away from the hut, on the other end of the metal barrier. They’re hard to see clearly, but one of them smokes. A nasty habit that’s more dangerous than he realizes. With each puff, the tip glows orange, and helps me sight both men.

  The two in the hut are my biggest concern. They’re most likely to radio for help. I should be able to take both out within four seconds. One breath between shots. That way they won’t have time to radio anyone, but during that interval, the two guards outside will likely scatter. I’ll get one of them for sure and possibly the second, but the odds of success start to drop. One is likely to raise an alarm. I need a diversion to draw their attention. Luckily, I have the car.

  I find a nice spot on the side of the road, behind an oak tree, that offers a clean shot inside the hut and a straight line of sight for the two guys outside. I flip the safety off the rifle, and make sure the laser sight is off. The laser in this darkness will give me away, and they’re close enough I don’t need it.

  The scope zooms in on the two inside the hut. They look bored. The taller of the two is talking about something—probably sports or nonsense to pass the time. I check on the two outside. They haven’t moved. They’re standing under the cover of a thick branch of an oak. It doesn’t do much to keep the rain off them, but it’s better than nothing. I’m convinced the Fates want me to succeed. At least in this.

  I ease the SUV forward. It’s seventy-five yards away now. The closer it gets before I start shooting the better. The tall guy in the hut stops talking. He leans forward and squints. He can’t be certain in the dark and the storm, but he thinks he’s seen a shape in the distance moving toward him…

  I focus my shot on his heart. At this distance, the heavy caliber bullet will shatter the glass and make a mess out of his insides. When the SUV gets a little closer, the tall guy taps his buddy on the arm. He sees the vehicle now.

  I switch stealth mode off. The SUV’s lights come on, and the engine purrs to life as it inches forward.

  Speed is critical now. I breathe smoothly through my nose and squeeze the trigger. Glass shatters, and the tall guard is thrown backward. Before the other guy in the hut reacts, I nail him in the head.

  The two guards outside aim their M18s at the SUV. They don’t know where the shooting is coming from and the big vehicle makes such an easy target. It’s an automatic response. The smoker fires at the SUV, which will do him no good.

  I blast him in the chest. His companion lowers his assault rifle and turns to run, but he’s too late. He should have fled right away. Big mistake. I cut him down with a shot through his back. Using the scope, I make sure all four are still down. The smoker struggles to get back up, so I plug him with another round, this time to the head. No sense prolonging his pain, and this way he won’t grab a radio.

  I switch the SUV back to stealth mode, and sprint to the gatehouse, hop over the rail, and confirm that everyone’s dead. I’m not happy the smoker got off a few rounds before I took him out. I don’t know if anyone’s heard the gunshots.

  I listen for the sounds of alarm but hear nothing but the steady pounding of the rain. No shouts or sirens or anything that worries me. That could change in a heartbeat, but at least I’m still the hunter for a while longer.

  The scent of blood mixes with the rain in the air, and it makes me smile. An energy rumbles inside me. I’m back to doing what I’m good at—hunting and killing. If that makes me a demon, so be it. I’ll do whatever needs doing to save Kate and Megan.

  Simple plans make the best plans. Can’t get too clever when your life is on the line, and my plan is as simple as they come: find and free Kate and Megan, and then get our asses back to the SUV before the cult realizes they’re gone. After that, drive to the motel and reconnect with Gabriel and his team. He won’t be in a good mood after I’ve drugged him, but he’ll come around and together we’ll rain hell down on everyone else at The Farm. Although simple, it’s as thin as tissue paper. It’s more of an aspiration than a real plan.

  For starters, I only have a few pieces of helpful information. Based on my reading of the surveillance photos, they’re probably keeping Kate in one of the small huts on the southeastern port
ion of property. I can’t be certain, but that’s where I’d stash a prisoner. Out of the way and guarded. After that, everything falls apart. Megan is most likely with the other girls. No reason to separate her, so she’s probably in one of the cabins. Probably. Maybe. Possibly. Not good words to use when making a proper plan.

  I’ll worry about Megan later. First, I need Kate. I can’t march through the compound, up a main path and search the huts. That’s a sure way to get dead. I stay out of the way, keeping to the lightly wooded forest that rings the outside of the farm.

  The rain makes for slick footing, and the dark night doesn’t provide much visibility. I can’t use a flashlight, so I move slower than I’d like. Breaking an ankle won’t do Kate and Megan any good. The forest is mostly made up of pines, oaks, and tall grasses that cover the ground. Not a bad combination for me. I scrape my way through, careful to keep quiet, picking my way around pine trees and ducking under oak branches.

  I have to stop twice when I hear other people. I’m not far from the paths they use, and they trod past me, splashing through puddles. No one is talking. They likely want out of the rain, and to get wherever they’re headed as quickly as possible. I can’t blame them.

  After an hour and twenty minutes, I see the first hut in the distance—a black cone-like shape, blacker than the forest around it. There are six huts in total. If I’m right, there’s got to be at least one guard, possibly two to make sure no one escapes.

  I move within ten feet of the hut and squat low. The rain has slowed to sporadic bursts now. Small soaking gusts after little stretches of nothing. I hear the guard before I see him. He’s limping slightly, favoring his left leg. I know that gait. He’s one of the men who abducted Megan, the one who punched her in the stomach.

  He steps beyond the hut and into view. A wind gust brings cold, fat raindrops like bombs dropped from above. The guard looks up to the heavens, no doubt wondering if the rain is meant for him, and whether he’s pissed off the Fates.

  He’s right to wonder. The Fates are pissed at him and they sent me here to make it right. I could shoot him with the M18 and the bullet would make such a mess of his skull no one would be able to identify him, but that won’t do. I want to talk to him, so I ease out from my hiding spot, keep low, and sneak up on him. I keep my weight balanced and carefully place my feet on solid ground. The wet pine needles help muffle any noise my boots would otherwise make.

  Within two steps, I can hear him breathing, the rub of the rifle’s strap against his shoulder, the curse he mutters under his breath. He turns to march toward the rest of the huts, and he moves away from me.

  I slide behind him, clamp my hand across his mouth, and press the blade of my long knife against his neck. At first, he tries to jerk away, but I hold him steady and whisper in his ear. “If you move or cry out, I’ll slice your throat. Be cool and answer my questions.”

  He nods.

  “Where are you holding the woman you took tonight? Which hut?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bad answer.” I stab his neck with the tip of the knife, making sure the blade doesn’t cut his carotid artery. “Next time I’ll cut you so bad, you’ll bleed out in less than a minute.”

  He’s shaking now. “Okay, okay. She’s in the next hut over.”

  “Anyone else on patrol?”

  “Not now. Someone will relieve me in an hour. Let me go.”

  “Did you think we had some type of deal? That’s my bad. I didn’t explain the rules—I don’t make deals with thugs who hurt young women and kidnap them.” I rip the blade across his throat. It’s harder to slice a throat than they show in the movies. It takes two cuts to do the job properly.

  When all life drains from his body, I drop him to the ground. He’s dressed in all black and blends in with the grasses, so I leave him where he falls. No need wasting time and energy dragging him into the woods. Someone would have to trip over him to notice the guy.

  My heart pounds when I reach the second hut. When we learned that Kate was taken, I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. I thought my mistakes got her killed. Now, the Fates gave me a second chance to make things right. I fling open the door and find her standing upright, her arms stretched above her by long chains hung over a wooden beam.

  “Kate.” I drop the M18 to the hard-packed dirt floor and dart forward. “Are you hurt?”

  She doesn’t answer me. Her eyes go wide as if she doesn’t believe I’m here. I cut through both of the chains with the laser knife and catch her when she slumps forward.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” she says.

  “I thought you’d be happy to see me. It’s not every day I get to save a damsel in distress.”

  She speaks in one breathless burst. “It’s a trap. Your crazy psycho bitch of a mother is the leader of the cult. She set you up. She knows you’re coming.”

  The world stops spinning, and everything freezes. I guess a small part of me had already figured out my mother could be involved in this mess. I wasn’t certain she was dead, and she used to call me Stevie. That message on the website sounded like her, but I refused to believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. The mind is strong that way. We can deny all types of things if we try.

  Other shapes burst into the hut. Six armed men. Four of them point M18s at Kate, and the other two point them at me. They must have been watching the hut from the forest. I should have waited longer after killing the first guard. But I rushed, too anxious to see Kate and play the hero.

  I run through a million different scenarios in my mind, and Kate doesn’t survive any of them. I have a ten percent chance to make it out alive, but she has zero.

  The assault team spreads out along the hut’s outer wall, further reducing my odds. The leader snickers. “Get on your knees and lift your hands behind your head. Do it and maybe I won’t kill you both.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” I say. “An entire Homeland battalion is headed here. Let us go, and I’ll put in a good word for you. Maybe they won’t send you to one of their black site interrogation holes. We can strike a deal.”

  One of the henchmen calls out to the leader. “He’d like to make a deal, Luke. He thinks he has something to trade.”

  “He’s sadly mistaken.” Luke’s eyes burn red. He’s not human. Maybe he was at one point, but not anymore. “We know about your Homeland buddies. We have a special surprise for them.”

  He nods to two of his men, who roughly strip my jacket from me, toss it to the side of the hut, and pat me down. An efficient job. They find whatever they need and toss it by the jacket.

  Luke grins and says, “I want both of them strung up.”

  Someone brings new chains, locks them on both of our wrists, loops them over the rafters, and lifts us up. My arms stretch to the limit, so I need to balance on my toes. At least they’re kinder to Kate. She can stand flat-footed.

  “I appreciate the effort, but I don’t think I’ll get any taller. Stretching me like this won’t help.”

  The leader orders everyone else out of the room.

  He stalks forward. “You don’t look special to me.”

  “Take me down and we’ll find out.”

  “I have a better idea.”

  His idea of better is not going to work out for me. He grabs one of the old chains I cut off Kate and whips it at me. He must be amazingly strong to flip it so casually. It cuts through my T-shirt and slashes my chest.

  My skin is like leather, having taken multiple beatings over the years, but the chains slash into me and the force feels like I’ve been hit with a concussion grenade. I groan, but I don’t cry. I come close, but he’s not going to see me cry. “Is that the best you can do?”

  He whips me again, this time closer to my throat and hits me high on the chest. Now that I know what to expect, I take it stoically.

  He tosses the chain to the floor. “You’d be wise to think about your future. You wouldn’t want me to do that to your friend and
maybe that sweet thing she calls her daughter.”

  “Touch her and I’ll kill you slowly,” I say.

  He sizes me up, grins, and moves close. The links from the chain have cut into my chest. He touches the wound, rubs the blood between his fingers, and brings it to his nose. He sniffs and chuckles.

  I swing my head at him, hoping to catch him off guard with a head butt, but he’s too fast and sidesteps me. He leans close to my ear and whispers so only I can hear him. “Welcome to the club.”

  Luke, who may have been human once but is now clearly a demon, turns and stalks out.

  “That was weird,” says Kate.

  “You have no idea.”

  So much for simple plans.

  Megan watches the rain fall outside her window and it deepens her dour mood. She’s on the verge of tears and her eyes sting. She’s usually a positive person by nature, but her mind sticks on all the many reasons she should cry until she feels like she’s buried alive: she misses her mother and her friends; Petal is hurt; they blew their best chance at escaping. Each time her mind completes a circuit, it feels like another shovel full of dirt is tossed on top of her. The weight and the darkness suffocate her.

  Strangely, of all the many reasons she has for feeling sad, one dominates her thoughts more than the others—the doctor said she couldn’t go to the chapel for a few days—a few days without talking to God. How will she survive without slipping into one of the steel chambers and feeling the comforting warmth of God’s Tears for a few days? It doesn’t seem fair. She just experienced it for the first time today, and she’s not sure if she can wait until morning, never mind a few days.

  Someone knocks on the door. It opens before anyone moves to get it, and Buck stands in the doorway, the edges of his lips turned downward. He points to Megan and Petal and says, “You two. Time to go to the cathedral.”