Battle Scream (The Battle Series Book 1)

by Mark Romang

  Maddix bent down and reached inside the duffel near his feet and pulled out a leather pouch. “Everyone, hold out your hands,” Maddix said into his helmet mike. They all held out a hand.

  Maddix carefully extracted a manna flake and placed it into Cody’s trembling hand. Cody placed the manna onto his tongue and chewed lightly. Maddix pulled out another manna flake and gave it to Sara. She chewed it quickly, her eyes closed. He was about to give Webb a flake but Webb pulled back his hand. “I don’t need it, Mad Dog. There aren’t any demons in this canyon.”

  “Take and eat the manna or you’re not going in with us. It’s that simple, C-Dub,” Maddix said firmly.

  “Fine, I could use some chow. I wouldn’t want the demons to hear my stomach growling,” Webb joked as he reached over and took the manna flake. He popped it into his mouth. “Tasty,” he said with a grin. “Can I have another?”

  Maddix shook his head. “There’s enough for each of us to have one flake per night.” He took a flake for himself and ate it, then closed the pouch tightly shut. “I got one more thing for each of you.” He reached back inside the duffel and pulled out a crucifix for each of them. The silver crosses glinted in the faint cockpit light. Earlier, Maddix had drilled a hole into each crucifix and looped a leather strand through it, tying it shut so the crucifixes could be worn as a necklace.

  “Never underestimate the power of the crucifixion. These crosses are symbols of Jesus’s overwhelming victory and Satan’s crushing defeat. Wear them confidently. They may turn out to be your best defense,” Maddix said as he handed them out. Cody and Sara accepted the crosses and draped them around their necks.

  But Webb balked at taking his.

  “Humor me, C-Dub.”

  “Just take the crucifix, you idiot,” Sara growled. “You’ll want it and need it when we get into the canyon. Trust me.”

  Webb reluctantly took the cross and placed it around his neck. “I’ll do anything for you, sweetheart,” he said in his best Humphrey Bogart voice.

  Sara shot Webb a hard look. “Then take what we’re doing seriously. You’re going to get us all killed trying to be funny.”

  “Listen, guys, we’re only a few minutes away from the drop zone,” Maddix began, “and I’d like to say a prayer before we leave the chopper.”

  “Should we hold hands, Mad Dog?”

  Maddix almost hit Webb right there on the spot. Sara was right. Webb might compromise the mission if he didn’t straighten up and focus. He still thought what they were attempting to do was a joke. “Yes, I think that would be appropriate,” Maddix said as he offered out his hands for Webb and Cody to grab.

  “Two minutes!” Kyle Miller’s baritone voice called out over their headsets.

  “I’ll make this quick,” Maddix said as he bowed his head. “Father God, we love you and worship you. Thank you for choosing us to fulfill this mission. Protect our hearts and minds from the enemy. Please watch over our equipment and keep it in working order. We ask you to grant us safety in the canyon, and Kyle and Cody safety in the air. May your will be done. In your Son’s name we ask this blessing. Amen.”

  Maddix opened his eyes in time to see Miller holding up a single finger and signifying they were one minute away from the drop zone. Maddix touched Sara’s knee. “It’s show time, Sara. You’re up.”

  Sara Kendall flipped the night-vision goggles atop her helmet down over her eyes. She stood up and headed for the starboard door with Maddix’s help. He handed her the rope. “See you in a bit, Sara. Be strong.”

  She nodded and stepped out on the platform. A second later she was gone. Webb took the rope next. He blew Maddix a kiss and dropped into the black night.

  Maddix picked up another forty-foot section of rope that was secured to a cleat in the floor and tied the bottom end of the rope into one of the extra flamethrower’s backpack assembly. He then carefully lowered the flamethrower down to Sara and Webb waiting below. They unhooked it and gave a tug on the rope. Maddix reeled in the rope and attached one more extra flamethrower to the rope and repeated the unloading procedure.

  After he retrieved the empty rope and set it aside, Maddix turned his attention to Miller. “Webb and Sara are out. Take me to the northern end of the canyon, Kyle.” Maddix felt the MD-500 accelerate out of its hover and head toward the second drop zone. “Okay, Cody, there’s a tether connected to a tie-in ring on the floor of the chopper by the door. Attach the tether to the ring on your harness. After I jump, you climb out and sit on the platform. Trust me, you’ll be okay. If you slip and fall you’ll only dangle a few feet under the chopper. Remember, don’t waste your gas. One second bursts. And only if a demon comes out the top of the canyon do you fire your flamethrower. You got it?”

  Cody managed a weak smile. He nodded his head. Maddix gave him a quick encouraging hug.

  Less than a minute later the helicopter reached its destination and resumed hover altitude. Maddix grabbed the fast rope. “Last man on the deck, Kyle,” he said into his helmet mike. And then he dropped through the black sky.

  The battle was on.

  ****

  Sitting in the Escalade, and parked on a dusty, abandoned national park road, the four men craned their heads toward the starry sky. They held night-vision binoculars up to their dark eyes and followed the vanishing helicopter.

  “What on Earth are they doing?” Aeton Lasko mumbled to know one in particular.

  “I could have sworn that I saw someone drop from the helicopter,” Alexander Kritikos said. “I think they’re performing an insertion into the slot canyon.”

  “We need to get our hands on their flight plan,” Lasko said.

  “They probably didn’t file one. Helicopter pilots don’t have to,” Nikko Castellanos replied.

  “Nikko, I want you to bug the girl’s shop and her home. We didn’t get any useful information from Maddix’s landline at the church or his apartment. Maybe we’ll have better luck with Miss Kendall.” Besides being a topnotch attorney, Castellanos used to be a paramilitary operations officer in the CIA’s National Clandestine Service. Like Maddix, he excelled at black ops.

  “If that’s what you want, we better go and plant the listening devices while she’s away from both places,” Castellanos suggested.

  Lasko immediately put the Escalade into gear and turned the vehicle back toward Felicity.

  Chapter 18

  Perdition Canyon—that same moment

  A crescent moon hung low in a starless sky. Clouds moving west to east dipped down and roiled over the slot canyon.

  Maddix withdrew the Eden Sword from the scabbard hanging from his back and stepped into the northern portion of Perdition Canyon. This section of the canyon didn’t require rappelling to enter. He could simply hike into the canyon. But there were still obstacles to overcome: barricading boulders and the icy cold Virgin River to ford or swim. Somewhere ahead he could hear a hissing waterfall tumble over a drop off.

  His heart quickened noticeably with each halting step he took on the slippery terrain. The pumping organ inside his chest drummed faster and faster. He expected to be discovered at any moment. The sounds of his feet splashing through the icy cold Virgin River seemed unnaturally loud, as if amplified through a speaker system. But he could do nothing about the noise for the moment, just pray that the fallen angels wouldn’t hear him.

  Although he hadn’t seen a demon yet, he could sense an otherworldly presence lurking somewhere close. His head throbbed. A low grinding noise hummed in his head. The noise slowly intensified. His limbs felt weak, yet oddly rigid. Something in the canyon affected him physically.

  Maddix peered anxiously through his night-vision goggles. Standing in place, he inspected odd-shaped boulders and grotto entrances for several seconds, looking for anomalies in the terrain that might hide a demon. He then scanned up the canyon walls for as far as he could see. Wind and water continually eroded the sandstone walls, cutting odd channels, grooves and mysterious shapes into the walls. The countless ind
entions and furrows cast innumerable shadows and provided a plethora of hiding spots. Thankfully, nothing jumped out at him. He shook his head. He was getting a severe case of the heebie-jeebies. Demons will do that to you.

  After hours spent brainstorming, Maddix finally settled on a simple battle plan just minutes before they left the Hurricane airport. Webb and Sara would hike through the canyon from the southern end and drive the demons toward him, using their flamethrowers. Meantime, he would try to find a suitable hiding place from which to ambush the demons and neutralize them with the Eden sword.

  Simple is almost always better than complex. But even simplicity cannot guarantee complications won’t arise. With any luck, they could keep the demons contained inside the canyon. But if the demons tried to escape out the top of the canyon, Miller and Cody would hopefully be able to drive them back down into the chasm.

  His head on a swivel, Maddix slogged deeper into the canyon, each tentative step taking him closer to a showdown with an enemy mankind wasn’t designed to fight. The river current sped up as he approached the small waterfall. Two boulders the size of beach balls sat side by side and provided him a way to stand at the waterfall’s edge.

  He looked down. The water dropped about six feet into a black pool. There was no way to skirt around the waterfall. Sheer walls bracketed the falls on either side. Not thinking twice about what to do, Maddix leaped off the boulders and into the pool. The icy cold water enveloped him like liquid shrink wrap. His feet touched the bottom and he stood up, gasping at the bracing water. The water lapped around his waist.

  Under different circumstances he would have enjoyed playing in the pool. But tonight’s objective kept him moving. He continued on, his anxiety increasing. He gripped the sword tighter, wielded it into a fighting position. He still hadn’t seen any signs of a demon. But a sulfurous smell wafting through the canyon promised he would. Overhead he could hear Miller’s helicopter flying back and forth over the canyon. The thunderous sound comforted him, but only slightly.

  Maddix thought of Sara and Webb. “You guys ok? Have you seen anything?” he mumbled into his helmet mike.

  “No hellions yet, Mad Dog. When is this manna going to kick in?” Webb asked.

  “You’ll know when it does,” Maddix replied.

  Up ahead a logjam blocked his way. Maddix grabbed one of the more slender logs—so old it was nearly petrified—and pulled his legs up onto the tangled tree branches. He scrambled up the debris field and back down and into another pool deep enough that he swam fifteen to twenty yards before he could stand up again.

  He needed to find his ambush spot, but hadn’t seen anything he liked. The spot needed to afford him protection while offering views in all directions.

  Something dark and black suddenly darted by his periphery. He stopped and whirled around but didn’t see anything. His pulse raced. He could’ve sworn he’d seen something.

  It was just a flash. And it lasted no more than a second in length. Maddix rotated his head and studied the canyon walls and boulder heaps more closely. He shortened his steps. The sighting made him wary. A confrontation brewed. He could feel the certainty of it skitter up his back.

  There! He saw it again. Another black object darted by his left eye. But then it vanished. Whatever the object, it disappeared as quickly as it appeared, like fireflies at dusk.

  Maddix took a deep breath. And then another. He forced himself to stay calm. Help me to keep it together, Lord.

  The gnawing pain in his head intensified as he slogged forward. His breathing ratcheted up. His lungs acted confused, like they were unsure when to inhale and exhale.

  Maddix approached a bend in the canyon. He crept around the corner, holding the Eden Sword high, ready to impale.

  But only a gigantic boulder greeted him. The boulder was probably seven feet tall and nearly blocked the passageway. Years of rain and wind eroded an oval hole through the top-middle of the boulder, providing a perfect viewing window. He’d found his ambush spot.

  The boulder provided him protection and the ability to see anything approaching from the south. Maddix leaned wearily against the boulder; rested his head on its cool surface. He didn’t know why he felt so tired. He’d barely hiked more than two hundred yards into the canyon. Yet he felt like he’d just finished a 10k run.

  Nausea twisted his stomach. He blinked his eyes. Everything shimmered out of focus. What is happening to me?

  And then it dawned on him the cause behind his malaise. Maddix quickly took off his dry bag hanging on his side. He reached inside and pulled out a small pill bottle—the pills Dr. Triplett gave him at Walter Reed. His trembling fingers tore at the safety lid. But the lid wouldn’t budge.

  Feeling the sickness wash over him, Maddix cursed the world’s fallen state, cursed the monsters that wanted to poison medicines and make these blasted safety lids necessary in the first place. Maddix took a deep, calming breath and tried the lid again. Finally the lid gained traction and popped off.

  He poured three of the little white pills into his palm, and then capped the bottle. He bent his head down and clumsily sucked the pills up into his mouth like a horse nuzzling sugar cubes up from his owner’s hand.

  Maddix ignored the awful bitterness and crushed the pills between his teeth into a chalky paste. He swallowed the acrid gunk in one gagging gulp, hoping that chewing them up would hasten the time needed to get the medicine into his bloodstream.

  But it was too late. There was nothing else he could do. He slumped to his knees. His head tottered over onto the boulder. He spiraled downward into a state of unconsciousness.

  He was no longer in a Utah slot canyon. He now found himself in a cave.

  A cave in…Afghanistan.

  Chapter 19

  Deep inside the cave, Maddix knelt on one knee in front of a buried weapons crate. Stamped on the crate’s lid and sides were the letters USSR. Although the Kalashnikovs may have been brand spanking new when the Russian campaign began in 1979, the machine guns inside this crate bore nicks and scuffs from heavy use. A layer of dust somehow made its way inside the lid and covered the rifles on top.

  Maddix hated AK-47s. The ubiquitous rifles seemed to have a knack for falling into the hands of terrorists and rogue nation armies. They’re rarely used for good purposes. Men filled with hate and crazy religious beliefs like to brandish them about and frighten peace-loving people. Worse, nearly a quarter-million people worldwide are killed with AK-47s every year, making them the deadliest weapon ever manufactured. And although they can be inaccurate, the Kalashnikov is nearly indestructible. Throw it in water, bury it in sand. It will still fire. It’s the cockroach of automatic weapons.

  “They’ve been through the ringer, C-Dub. You still want one?” Maddix said softly into his radio.

  “I don’t mind a few character scratches, Mad Dog. A few nicks give the gun more authenticity. Just grab me one,” Webb said. Webb liked to acquire souvenirs from all his missions. He told everyone who would listen he was going to own a gun shop someday and display all his souvenirs there.

  Maddix pulled out the top layer of rifles and examined them under his night-vision goggles. All the rifles were beaten up, but he picked out the least scratched one and slung it over his shoulders. Mild irritation flared up inside him. He didn’t have time for this.

  They were on a black ops mission, instructed by SOCOM—Special Operations Command—to find out where the cave exited and map out all the secondary tunnels intersecting it. The orders didn’t make much sense to him. They were going to place charges inside the tunnel and blow it up after they exited the cave, making it impassable. So why did they need to map out the tunnels? In the end it didn’t matter. It wasn’t his business to question stratagems. His job was to be a good soldier and carry out orders.

  Maddix returned the Kalashnikovs to the weapons crate and replaced the lid. He stood up and looked all around him. Something told him not to move.

  He’d always been superstitious. He owned a lucky t
-shirt, a lucky necklace, a lucky ball cap. He always ate his sides before his main course. And he never ate red meat on Fridays. His superstitions garnered him a lot of ribbing. But he didn’t care. Everyone is a little odd in some way.

  “Hurry up, Maddix. Grab an AK and let’s go. We can’t wait for you forever,” Lieutenant Kirkland said over the radio.

  “Roger. I’m heading out.” But Maddix still hesitated. He’d always been able to sense danger. He didn’t claim to be a clairvoyant. But he had a gift, or curse for perceiving unseen threats. Even though he wasn’t a religious person, he possessed a keen awareness of another realm—the spirit world. From a young age he felt a steady tug from a different dimension.

  And at the moment he felt danger swirl all around him. But more than danger, he felt death. He could feel its hungry tendrils wrap around his legs. Someone was going to die in this cave today.

  Come on, keep it together, Maddix, he told himself. He inhaled a deep breath of dusty cave air and took a timid step forward.

  Without warning the cave floor under his feet convulsed. A geyser of dirt and schist spewed against the cave ceiling. Intense heat from the fireball swathed him in a fiery cocoon. His body became a giant piece of shrapnel. He bounced off the cave ceiling before thudding onto the cave floor several feet away from the weapons crate.

  The rough landing deflated his lungs. He struggled to breathe. His ears rang like a hundred tolling church bells. Concentrated pain seared his right leg. He could feel blood gushing out his leg from somewhere around the kneecap.

  Amidst the chaos of fire, dust, and smoke, his mind remained unfazed. Assess your injuries. Staunch the blood flow, he told himself.