Monster Hunter Alpha-ARC

by Larry Correia

  Myers put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “Yes, about him…”

  “His name was Adam Conover.”

  “He doesn’t exist.”

  Earl angrily shook his head. “Don’t play games. He was government property. A pet monster gone rogue. He was one of yours.”

  “Not one of mine, Earl. Don’t bring him up again, don’t talk about him, and forget he ever existed.”

  “So, that’s how it has to be?”

  “That’s how it is.”Myers rubbed his face in his hands, as if debating what to say. “Off the record, he worked for an operation you do not want to cross. MCB is a shield. They’re a sword, or maybe a poisoned dagger would be more appropriate. They answer only to the highest levels. They’re small, but they deal with things that I wouldn’t want my agency to touch with a ten-foot pole. Nobody talks about them and lives long. Am I clear?”

  If there was one thing that werewolves knew, it was how to keep secrets. “Crystal.”

  Chapter 37

  This will be the last entry in this book. The journals began as a tool to chronicle the holes dug in my mind by a demon, and many of those holes have been filled. There are still things missing, but for the most part, my life is mine again. Up yours, Rocky. I win, you son of a bitch.

  The first book was about my history, the second was about my Hunters, and the third was about my curse. But it doesn’t feel right calling it a curse anymore. Koschei’s amulet changed me. In the four months since Copper Lake, things have been different. The change is easier to control now, and when I do transform, though the madness is still there, it does what I tell it to. Even during the full moon, I’d say I was at least half sane, and that’s a pretty decent improvement. I’ll still lock myself up, just in case, but I’m more confident than I’ve ever been. I’m in charge of the beast now, not the other way around.

  I’ve always had family, mentors, friends, and my Hunters are my pack, but in one important way, I’ve always been a lone wolf. Even my beloved wife, God rest her soul, could never fully understand my other half. Now, for the first time in my life, I’ve got someone by my side who not only understands what it’s like, but who isn’t a complete raving nut-job about it, either. I’ve been teaching Heather, but she’s a faster learner than I was.

  We’re still working the kinks out. Apparently, I can be difficult to live with sometimes. Go figure. But the last few months have been nice. Shit. I’m a master of understatement. It’s been great, some of the best times of my life. But if you expected me to write about my feelings, you sure as hell picked up the wrong journal. Let’s just say that life is good.

  Earl Harbinger stopped and looked out the cabin’s window. There had been a noise, slightly out of place, just an echo of a sound against the mountain. One hand came to rest on the Smith & Wesson sitting on the edge of the desk. The property was as isolated as possible, just a lone hunting cabin on a barren stretch of nothing a hundred miles from the nearest bit of civilization. He had bought the land a long time ago under a name that had long since ceased to exist. It was the kind of place that a man could disappear for a time; where a young, supposedly dead werewolf could practice and the only things in danger be the local animals. All of which were edible to a werewolf, but only the bears were a challenge.

  The logs in the fireplace popped. The cabin creaked against the wind. Scowling, Earl watched the Alaskan night for a while, but the out-of-place sound didn’t come again. It must have been nothing. Earl removed his hand from the gun and returned to his work.

  I was bitter at first, having chosen to be cursed again by my old nemesis. But Nikolai, evil son of a bitch that he was, had done me a favor at the bottom of that black hole. I’d thought I’d have given anything to be a man again, but I was wrong. I was always meant to be a werewolf…Monster and Hunter.

  This is who I am.

  “Writing again?” Heather was standing in the bedroom doorway.

  “Scribbling.” Earl put the pen down. He hadn’t sensed her come in. She could be downright stealthy when she wanted to be. “Just a few last things to fill in before we trek out tomorrow.”

  Julie was going to have a plane waiting for them in the nearest town. An identity had been prepared for Heather to use while MHI’s attorneys worked on getting a provisional PUFF exemption. They had to tread carefully, but that’s why Earl paid them a thousand bucks an hour. MHI had done fine without him there, babysitting, but he hadn’t killed a monster since November and was starting to get twitchy. The snows were melting. It was time to return to the world.

  “You really think I’m ready?” Heather asked.

  “Ready as one of us can ever be.”

  “You had three years to work on it,” she pointed out.

  They’d had this discussion several times. “I had to learn all this from scratch. You’ve got resources, know-how, and one hell of a handsome advisor.”

  “You’re rich, too.” Heather folded her arms and watched him with a bit of a smirk. As she had come to accept her new state, Earl found that she’d become increasingly lovely. In his opinion, there was nothing nicer than a pretty girl with the confidence to beat up a polar bear. “Don’t underestimate the attractiveness of the being a millionaire part. Mom always wanted me to find a rich guy.”

  “I invested a few PUFFs way back when. That’s the power of compound interest for you.”

  “You’re right. I’m ready.” Heather smiled at him. “I’m just going to miss our luxury accommodations is all. Wrap it up, would you? We’ve got a long trip tomorrow. Come to bed.”

  “I’ve just got to finish this. When we get to Cazador, I’m going to bury this down in the archives. Maybe it’ll come in handy someday for someone else.”

  “You’re pretty serious about recording everything for posterity.” Heather came over to where he was sitting, draped her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear. “But I bet I can distract you.”

  A grin split Earl’s face. “Oh, really?” You got to know someone rather well when you spent an entire winter isolated with them, and Earl knew exactly how distracting Heather could be.

  * * *

  The sound came again in the middle of the night. It was louder this time, and the suddenness of it launched both of them out of bed. Earl was getting dressed as he reached the front door. The noise of the fighter jet lingered on the mountain for a moment. Another aircraft flew past a minute later, skimming terribly low over the lake. It passed the cabin close enough for the noise to rattle snow from the roof.

  There were munitions under the wing.

  “What was that?” Heather called.

  “A flight of F-16s,” Earl answered.

  Heather was behind him, buttoning her shirt. “Maybe they’re just on a training flight?”

  The first one was banking back over the mountain. “Doubt it.”

  “But…you’re okay, and they think I’m dead!”

  The fighters gained a bit of altitude and began a long circle around the cabin. Earl watched the orange glow of their exhaust. That was an awful lot of firepower. There was another noise in the distance. A helicopter. “We’ve got company coming. Might as well get presentable.”

  “Should we run?”

  “Naw,” Earl shook his head. “That’s the thing about Hunters. Once they find you, if you run, it just makes them want to chase you that much harder.”

  The conflict on her face was obvious to read. Instinct was telling her to flee, but she trusted him. “You’d better be right, Earl.”

  “We’ll see what they’ve got to say. Besides, if they were really out to get us, they’d just have dropped a bomb on the place.”

  Earl splashed some water on his face, finished getting dressed, and then confirmed that their belongings were ready to go. They’d already been packed to leave in the morning. Heather was too nervous to talk. Earl did his best to comfort her, but he didn’t know what was happening, either. You didn’t send the air force if you were planning nothing more th
an a friendly visit. “Stay inside. They might not know about you,” Earl warned Heather before giving her a gentle kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You’d better,” she warned him. “I don’t want to do CPR on you again, okay?”

  “You’re really good at it, though.”

  He closed the door behind him. There was an overhang to protect the entrance from the snow, so Earl lit a cigarette and settled down beneath it to wait. Two minutes later, a Chinook helicopter with no markings landed in front of the cabin. Four armored figures disembarked as soon as the ramp hit the ground. They fanned out in a protective circle while a fifth man strolled down the ramp. The stranger walked directly toward the cabin without even taking the time to orient himself. The four soldiers formed a line behind him and followed.

  The stranger was tall, and despite his heavy coat, obviously thin. He trudged along through the snow at an energetic clip. Despite their camouflage-painted, ceramic-plate armor that made MHI’s heavy suits look svelte in comparison, the soldiers kept up. As they got closer, Earl noted that the leader’s head was bared to the elements, and that he was completely, shiny, bald. He was also wearing a pair of oddly colored, orange-lensed sunglasses, even though it was pitch dark.

  The Chinook’s twin rotors were still turning, which made it difficult to understand the stranger’s greeting. He had to repeat himself as he got closer. “Good evening, Mr. Harbinger.”

  Earl just nodded. “Your helicopter’s messing up my landscaping.”

  The soldiers came to a silent halt a polite twenty feet away. Their leader closed the remaining distance and stopped at the overhang. “It won’t be there long.” The stranger appeared to be in his forties, six and a half feet tall, extremely long-limbed and with skin so pale that if Earl hadn’t smelled the warm blood pumping, he would’ve suspected the man was undead. He was borderline gaunt, but his movements gave off a sense of athleticism. He seemed human, just an odd one. “I’m Mr. Stricken.”

  Earl made a show of not being able to hear over the chopper. “Sorry? What was that? Strickland?”

  “Stricken,” he repeated.

  “What? No handshake?” Earl asked.

  “I’ve heard your reputation on the subject,” Stricken said. “My hobby is classical piano, so I’d prefer you not to break all the bones in my hand. May I come in?”

  “No. What do you want?”

  “Just a moment of your time. I can be polite or not. Your decision.” Stricken took off the orange shades, revealing albino eyes. “And I would like to speak to Ms. Kerkonen as well.”

  Earl had been afraid of that. “Deputy Kerkonen died at the Quinn Mine.”

  “We both know that’s not true. My time’s valuable Mr. Harbinger. Believe me, this isn’t my idea of fun. Cold doesn’t agree with me. Bring her out.”

  Earl looked over at the four soldiers. Their helmets had opaque full-face visors, so it was impossible to read their expressions. He had no doubt he could take them. It was the F-16s he didn’t know what to do about. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Your file said that you could be a pain in the ass. A satellite has been passing over this area every day for weeks. There’s a redheaded woman here, approximately five foot eight, one hundred and thirty pounds. Nice rack. Spends her free time turning into a werewolf and terrorizing the squirrels. Wave, dumb-shit. You’re on camera,” Stricken said. Earl’s tilted his head to peer suspiciously around the overhang. “Don’t bother looking, you idiot, you can’t see it. It’s in fucking outer space.”

  “She can control it. Just like me.”

  Stricken’s laugh was mean. “You think I give a shit? You think I’m MCB? They’re losers. You think they’d get permission to go rerouting satellites for one measly lycanthrope? If popping her was my mission, I’d have vaporized this whole valley with one phone call.” The laughter died, and Stricken’s pink eyes bored into Earl. “Call her out.”

  This man wasn’t to be trifled with. Earl opened the door a crack. “Heather?”

  “I heard,” she muttered as she came through the door and stood proudly at Earl’s side. “What do you want from us?”

  “Werewolves have to earn the right to exist. PUFF immunity is a rare and precious thing. Luckily, werewolves are an amazing creature, and I happen to need one.”

  Not again. Earl tossed his cigarette butt in the snow. “How long this time?”

  “Two years, beginning immediately. Upon satisfactory completion, there will be a certificate granting full PUFF immunity to the bearer.”

  “Until the government changes its mind again.”

  “Of course. This offer is valid for the next five minutes. Yes or no. If yes, then we board that helicopter and for the next two years you have zero communication with anyone outside of my organization. No friends, no family. For all intents and purposes, you’ll be government property for the next seven hundred thirty days. Seven hundred thirty-one if there’s a leap year. I haven’t checked the calendar.”

  “And the job?”

  “You will complete assignments as specified. These assignments will be dangerous but should be well within your capabilities. Everything you need will be provided. At the end of this term, you’re free to go. However, you will be required to keep all information pertaining to my organization classified for the rest of your life, or your immunity will be revoked and you’ll be terminated.”

  “And if the answer is no?”

  Stricken smiled that same unnerving smile. “Harsh words may be exchanged…” An F-16 roared past. “And cluster bombs.”

  Earl glanced at the eerily silent soldiers. They hadn’t so much as twitched. There wasn’t even a hint of fear smell, nor excitement or any other recognizable chemicals. Their smell was an indeterminate mixture of gun-oil, synthetic fibers, meat, bone, and blood. They were either inhumanly well trained, or just plain inhuman. Their armored faceplates gave no clue.

  He turned to Heather. She was still holding his arm. Now she was frightened. The soldiers were terrifying, not as physical threats, but as what they represented. Heather was barely learning to control herself. He was her anchor, he was her teacher, he was her lover, but now these strange men were here to take him away. Stricken wouldn’t just be hurting Earl, he’d be hurting her.

  But if he didn’t go, they were both as good as dead. Even if he killed these men and they escaped, the hunt would just be beginning. He was a Hunter, and as such, he understood just how awful it was be to be the hunted. It would never stop.

  Earl gently raised his hand and touched Heather on the cheek. She turned to him, and he could see the understanding in her eyes. She knew what he had to do. Heather was strong, even stronger than he had been at the beginning. She’d be fine. There was just the slightest hint of a nod. No matter what, she trusted him.

  Stricken was waiting for an answer. The man, if he was a man at all, was still smiling, only his eyes weren’t. The strange eyes were utterly cold. It was just like before. Different decade, and it would be a different war, but the game was always the same. To them, a werewolf wasn’t a person with a curse, they were an asset, a weapon. They’d give him a new name, and then they’d point him at a target. He’d do his job, just like before.

  Only this time, there would be a woman that loved him waiting at the end. So at least he’d have something to look forward to. Earl cleared his throat. “I’ll do it.”

  “Not you.” Stricken shook his head and pointed one long finger at Heather. “I want her.”

  The words took a second to register as Heather’s fingers tightened around Earl’s bicep. “You bastard!” he snarled as he took a step forward. The faceless soldiers’ guns came up with a clatter.

  “Wait!” Heather shouted as she pulled on Earl’s arm.

  Stricken raised his hand. The soldiers immediately stopped, their carbines shouldered, muzzles trained on Earl. Four laser dots danced on Earl’s shirt, but Stricken would die before Earl felt the sting of the first bullet.

>   “Up yours, Pinky. You can’t have her. You want a werewolf, you take me.”

  “You know how it works, Mr. Harbinger. Monsters have to earn a place in our world, and you’ve done it. No one doubts you. You’re a patriot. You are living proof that the system works. Unfortunately, times have changed, and I’m afraid recruiting a man with your known personality quirks would be a bad human-resources decision. Ms. Kerkonen on the other hand remains an unknown quantity. She needs to prove herself, and, as you know, my organization is now short one werewolf.”

  “So, Adam was yours?”

  “Yes,” Stricken said unapologetically. “And he was the best I’ve ever seen. I had a great deal of respect for his parents as well. They worked for me, too, before they retired so Sharon could dote on her grandkids. Operative Alpha was just like you once, a superb killer. He also earned a place in a human world, only he decided that wasn’t good enough.”

  “Your boy went nuts and killed my hometown,” Heather spat.

  “I let my guard down, began to think of him as an equal. I’ll never make that mistake again.” Stricken looked at Heather pointedly. “Clock is ticking. You know how much it costs per minute to run a fighter jet? That’s all getting billed to my operating budget.”

  Earl was calculating the time it would take to incapacitate the soldiers. Then he’d grab Stricken as a hostage and force the chopper to fly them out.…Heather squeezed his arm again. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “I’ll do it,” Heather said. “I can prove myself. Just let him go.”

  Earl closed his eyes and died inside.