Cryptid Quest: A Supernatural Thriller (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 8)

by Anthony M. Strong

  “I don’t think you’re a wimp,” Emma said. “Quite the opposite.”

  “Really?”

  “Really!” Emma placed a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be working for CUSP. Weren’t you on the team that caught Grendel?”

  Rory nodded. “Along with John and a few others.”

  “There you go, then.” Emma flashed a smile and stepped closer to the ropes, studying the setup.

  “You going to be okay?” Decker asked, concerned.

  “Sure.” Rory nodded. He stood with his arms folded, peering at the precipice. “I’ll be fine.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Decker slapped his friend on the back. “And just so you know, you really aren’t a wimp by any stretch. In the last four days you’ve survived an all-out assault by hostile gunmen, a car chase, and a run-in with a poisonous snake. Now you’re about to rappel down a cliff. Name me one wimp who could do all that?”

  33

  It took the better part of an hour to reach the base of the cliff. Two members of the Ghost Team went first, rappelling down one after the other as if it were nothing. Emma went next, and while she lacked the soldier’s flair, proved to be more than competent. Then it was Rory’s turn. One of the soldiers held the ropes from below. If he slipped and fell, they could stop his plunge. Despite his vocal complaints, the archaeologist managed a clumsy dissent with Ward shouting directions from above, and Emma egging him on from beneath. That left just Decker and Commander Ward.

  With most of the team already below, they got to work lowering their backpacks, filled with water canteens, food, and survival gear, on a fresh rope that Ward had set up for just this purpose. They couldn’t risk carrying the packs down on their backs, because the uneven weight would have made it even more dangerous to rappel.

  When the gear was safely on the forest floor below, Ward instructed Decker to go next. He donned the harness, triple checked his equipment, and then stepped over the edge. Planting his feet on the cliff face, Decker inched his way down, keeping his body perpendicular to the rock. He fed the rope through the descender, keeping it tensioned, and continued like this all the way down until he felt the ground beneath his feet. One of the soldiers at the base helped him out of the harness and sent the gear back topside for Ward to use. Ten minutes later, the entire team stood at the base of the cliff and surveyed the unfamiliar landscape around them.

  “Feels different down here,” Emma said, studying the forest that stood less than twenty feet from the cliff face. The ground they now stood on was almost level—a gentle slope toward the tree line covered in shale and small rocks. “It’s at least a couple of degrees cooler, and there’s no breeze.”

  “No animal noises either,” Ward said. “We should at least be hearing cicadas, howler monkeys, and birds. But there’s nothing. It’s like the entire forest is holding its breath.”

  “It’s spooky.” Emma took a nervous step backwards. “Why is it so quiet?”

  “That’s a very good question,” Ward said. He stood, hands on hips, and eyed the trees. “And one that we might answer as we explore deeper toward the pyramid.”

  “The waterfall is about a mile to our right,” Emma said. “I think we should follow the cliff until we reach it. According to the lidar imagery, the pyramid straddles the river. We can follow the riverbank all the way there. It will be safer than trudging through the jungle.”

  “I concur,” Ward said. “The going will be easier too. Less foliage and vines.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Decker said, picking up his backpack and slipping it onto his shoulders. “Let’s get moving. And keep your eyes peeled. I have a feeling there are some nasty things down here that we might not want to run into unprepared.”

  “Yeah, like a Cyclops,” Rory said, giving the trees a nervous glance. He looked toward the commander and his two soldiers, at the semiautomatic weapons they carried. “Wonder how many shots from one of those it would take to bring such a beast down?”

  “I’d rather not find out.” Ward lifted his own pack onto his back and slung the M4 carbine over his shoulder. “As Mister Decker said, let’s move.”

  34

  The waterfall was even more impressive up close than from afar. It thundered over the cliff in a frothy, turbulent maelstrom. Beneath it, at the base of the falls, was a wide pool of dark water from which the river meandered into dense, almost impenetrable jungle.

  Decker felt uneasy. They didn’t know what lurked in the jungle, and their only means of escape were the ropes left dangling over the cliff a mile distant. But at least they were armed, which made him feel better.

  The two soldiers and Commander Ward had their M4 carbines, along with a Glock sidearm on their belt. Decker was packing the Makarov PB pistol—the one confiscated from the gunman back at the restaurant—although he didn’t bother attaching the suppressor. There was no need. He still had two full magazines, which he carried in his pocket.

  Emma hated guns and opted for a machete.

  Rory remained unarmed, despite Ward’s offer of a KA-BAR Fighting Knife—the preferred blade of the US Marine Corps. The Ghost Team leader deemed the blade safer than putting a gun in the untrained archaeologist’s hands. But Rory refused, looking at the weapon as if Ward were offering him a one-way passage to hell.

  Decker took the lead, with one of Ward’s men at his shoulder. The Ghost Team operative was late thirties, broad shouldered and tall, with a military style buzz cut and a square jaw. He looked every bit the Marine he once had been. Following behind were Emma and Rory. Ward and the other Ghost Team soldier protected their rear.

  They left the waterfall behind and trudged along close to the riverbank. Decker used a compass to make sure they were on the correct heading. Ward had determined this the previous evening as they sat around the campfire using the coordinates Decker had provided him.

  “What’s your name, soldier?” Decker asked of the Ghost Team operative as they pushed deeper into the jungle, leaving base camp and the rest of the team far behind them.

  “Kyle, sir,” the man replied. “Kyle Garrett.”

  “You been with the Ghost Team long?”

  “Yes, sir. Three years. Before that, I served under the commander in Afghanistan. When I finished my tour, he recruited me straight into CUSP.” Garrett kept his attention focused on the surrounding forest, his eyes wandering in all directions, looking for any threat. “The commander had already left the service by then and was putting together his team.”

  “You like working for CUSP?” Decker asked. The questions sounded innocent enough, but he was digging to see if there was any flicker of untruth in the man’s answers. Someone had sliced that hole in Decker and Rory’s tent, and he didn’t think it was Emma, or the production company man, Henriksen. Decker’s gut also told him that the Ghost Team leader, Ward, was probably not their man. That left the four ex-soldiers and the explorer, Tristan Cook. Which of them was the culprit, Decker couldn’t guess.

  “I do, sir.” Garrett nodded. “It pays more than the Marine Corps. A lot more. Benefits are better too. Plus, they’re not sending me to war zones for months on end.”

  “You don’t need to call me sir,” Decker said. “John will do just fine.”

  “Yes, sir…” Garrett hesitated, gave Decker a sheepish grin. “I mean… yes, John.”

  “That’s better.” Decker glanced backwards toward Rory. “You doing okay there, buddy?”

  “I feel like a walking lunch buffet. Friggin’ mosquitoes. I’ve been bitten at least a thousand times,” Rory replied, batting away a large flying insect that had strayed too close to his face. “And I can barely see for all the sweat in my eyes. But apart from that, I’m just peachy.”

  “Not to worry,” Decker said. “I’m sure it will be worth it when we get to the pyramid.”

  “How much further?” Rory asked. “I feel like we’ve been walking for days already. This tropical heat is killer.”

  “It’s only been an hour,” Dec
ker said, checking his watch, a Marathon GSAR Military Issue. “But if the lidar coordinates are right, we must be at least halfway there.”

  “I hope so.” Rory swiped at something that looked like a giant ant with wings. It buzzed around him for a few seconds, ignoring his attempts to move it along, then flew in a lazy circle around his head and up toward the tree canopy above them. “This place is full of-”

  He never got to finish his sentence, because Garrett, who had taken the lead, held an arm up, fist closed. He motioned for the team to be quiet.

  “What is it?” Decker asked in a whisper. “You see something?”

  Garrett nodded. He motioned for them to follow him and stepped away from the riverbank, melting into the understory like a ghost thanks to the camo uniform he wore.

  Decker and Rory followed, joining the soldier when he crouched down behind a large bush with yellow berries hanging from its branches. Commander Ward, Emma, and the other soldier followed their lead and disappeared into the brush several feet distant.

  The soldier put a finger to his lips, instructing them not to speak.

  At first, Decker didn’t understand what had spooked the soldier, but then he heard it, too. A rustle of leaves, and the crack of twigs underfoot. Something large was moving through the jungle behind them. He glanced to his right, glimpsed the rest of their group sheltering some distance away in the understory. He motioned them to stay concealed. Ward pulled a branch aside and flashed a thumbs up. He was aware of the danger.

  When Decker turned his attention back to their own group, Rory was looking at the Makarov, pushed into the waistband of his khakis. Decker wondered if the archaeologist now regretted turning down the combat knife Ward had offered him. Not that a knife would do Rory much good, anyway. To use it, he would need to be in close contact with his attacker, and whatever was approaching them sounded too big to engage in hand-to-hand combat.

  Decker reached down and slipped the Makarov out.

  The sound was getting louder now.

  Garrett had removed the M4 from his shoulder and now clutched it in a tight embrace across his chest. If need arose, he could swing it down and fire in a heartbeat.

  Something moved off to their right.

  A shape emerged from the understory. A large bipedal creature with leathery brown skin. It was hairless and tall, at least seven feet. A crude loincloth made of what looked like animal hide hung around its waist.

  The creature lumbered toward the river and kneeled. It reached out with enormous hands and scooped up water, which it slurped noisily.

  Decker held his breath.

  Next to him, Rory tensed.

  Garrett silently lowered the M4 carbine and aimed it toward the stooped creature.

  It lifted two more handfuls of drinking water, then climbed to its feet and stood erect, looking out across the river with its back to them.

  The creature stayed that way for the better part of a minute, then lifted its head and snuffled the air loudly.

  Rory nudged Decker, a perplexed look on his face.

  Decker just shrugged. He didn’t dare speak.

  The creature lifted a thick arm and scratched the back of its neck with one meaty finger, then turned away from them and took a step back toward the jungle. But then it paused, sniffing the stirring breeze a second time as if catching a stray scent. It turned, and they saw its face for the first time, and the single large eye inset into a sloping forehead above a flattened and flaring nose.

  Decker’s breath caught in his throat.

  A Cyclops.

  Beside him, Rory let out a small whimper.

  The creature sniffed one more time. Its single eye swiveled toward their hiding place. Its chest puffed out and it let forth with a loud and throaty roar. Then the Cyclops charged straight at them.

  35

  Their hiding place discovered, there was no longer any need for stealth. Garrett reared up and dropped back on one leg into a more stable shooting stance and adjusted his aim to compensate for the lumbering creature.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Decker flinched, expecting the triple report of the gun’s three-round burst.

  But nothing happened.

  Garrett made a grunting sound and reached down, slapping the bottom of the magazine, then tried again.

  Still nothing.

  Decker glanced quickly right, toward the rest of their group, wondering why they hadn’t opened fire. Ward was on his feet. His own M4 now slung over his shoulder. Had that failed to fire, too? And what about the other Ghost Team soldier?

  Ward reached down and plucked the Glock sidearm from its holster. He pulled the trigger. An empty click. Then another. He observed it in horror.

  This gun had failed too. Which was impossible. Unless…

  Decker didn’t have time to contemplate the reason why.

  The Cyclops was closing fast.

  He gripped the Makarov with both hands and fired.

  Once. Twice. Three times.

  On the fourth pull, the gun clicked empty, but the creature kept coming. Either Decker’s shots had sailed wide, or the outdated 9x18 ammunition’s inferior stopping power had done no serious damage.

  Either way, there wasn’t time to reload, and the Ghost team’s more lethal M4 weapons appeared to be out of action, at least for the time being.

  Off to his right, Decker caught a flash of movement.

  The Ghost Team soldier standing between Ward and Emma lunged forward, dropping the M4, and bursting from the understory toward the angry Cyclops. He held his Glock pistol at arm’s length and pulled the trigger several times, even though he surely knew it was pointless. Discarding the useless weapon, he let out a high-pitched battle cry and barreled into the charging creature, wrapping his arms around it in a brave attempt to buy his companions enough time to retreat.

  Decker didn’t squander the brave soldier’s selfless act of sacrifice. Ripping his eyes away from the Cyclops and struggling ex-Marine, he barked a curt command. “Run!”

  36

  Decker, Rory, and Kyle fled into the jungle. Behind them, swiftly cut off, he heard the dying cries of the Ghost Team soldier who had sacrificed himself to buy them time. He didn’t know what had happened to Emma and Ward. In the initial panic of their escape, the two groups had gotten separated, bolting in different directions. He was worried but didn’t dare circle back to find them. The creature was already on their trail. But at least it was following them, and not Emma and Ward.

  They pushed through thick vegetation and creeping vines that threatened to trip them. But there was no time for caution, even though there was a high risk they would inadvertently disturb some poisonous denizen of the Amazon, like a pit viper or the dreaded Brazilian wandering spider- the world’s most venomous arachnid. Not to mention giant centipedes, dart frogs, and a host of other creatures small and large that would happily defend their territory against an invading human.

  But none of these were as terrifying as the creature that currently chased them. Decker could hear it crashing through the underbrush in hot pursuit. Proof his bullets had only served to further enrage the beast. And it appeared to be gaining on them.

  “It’s no use,” Rory said through ragged breaths as they pushed deeper into the jungle. “We’ll never outrun that thing.”

  “If you can think of a better plan, I’m open to suggestions,” Decker said, pushing a large branch out of the way and ducking under it.

  Garrett was bringing up the rear, even though Decker suspected he could easily have moved faster than his companions. He came level with Decker and spoke. “There’s only one viable option. I’ll create a distraction. Lure the beast away from you.”

  “No.” Decker shook his head. “Too dangerous. We’ve already scattered once. I don’t want to further fragment the group.”

  “It’s that, or we all get killed,” Garrett replied. “I don’t love the idea either, but it makes sense. I’ll lead the creature off, and the two of you escape in the othe
r direction. We’ll rendezvous at the pyramid once I give it the slip.”

  “What if it doesn’t follow you?” Rory asked.

  “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll make sure it knows who to chase.” Garrett motioned toward the Makarov. “Give me your gun.”

  “This is insane,” Decker said. “You’ll get yourself killed. We need to keep moving.”

  “Just give me the damned gun,” Garrett said sharply. “I’m trained for this. You worry about yourselves. Get out of here before we all end up dead.”

  “Very well,” Decker said, although he had severe misgivings about further splitting up. But there was no time to argue. The creature was almost upon them. He put a fresh magazine in the gun, then handed over the Makarov, and one remaining mag. “For the record, I don’t like this.”

  “Not too keen on it myself,” Garrett replied. “Now, go.”

  “We’ll see you at the pyramid.” Decker pushed Rory ahead of him, away from the soldier.

  Garrett nodded.

  “Good luck.” Decker turned and dashed back toward Rory, who was lingering several feet away, watching the jungle warily.

  “We can’t just leave him here,” Rory said, as Decker rejoined him. “It’s insane. The Cyclops will rip him apart.”

  “We don’t have a choice.” Decker gripped Rory’s arm and dragged him along. “The man’s doing his job. That’s why Adam Hunt sent the Ghost Team down here.”

  “But-”

  “It’s our best chance.” Decker let go of Rory’s arm and was pleased to see that the archaeologist kept moving of his own accord. “We can debate the merits of our actions later, but right now we need to concentrate on staying alive.”

  From the jungle to their rear, Decker heard the pop, pop, pop of Decker’s Makarov, followed by an angry bellow. Either the Ghost Team operative had wounded the beast or enraged it even further. Decker couldn’t tell which, but he was sure of one thing. Garrett hadn’t killed the Cyclops.