by John O'Brien
As one, the entire hamlet turns and begins to make their way out, entering the woods toward the river and the gorge. They leave behind all of the possessions and gear they’ve loaded into carts, which is a little confusing. If they’re relocating their village, why spend the day preparing only to leave everything behind? Either they decided it’s too risky to move or they had that sixth sense that’s telling them to go and go quickly. They could have sensed our presence. Maybe they’re drawing us away and waiting for the full moon.
There is one other possibility: they plan to return. We’re only about twenty-four hours away from the full moon and they may be setting out to transform. I had thought they would just change in the village, but given the absence of any tracks in the surrounding area, they could reserve that for elsewhere.
I radio Lynn to let her know that we’re on the move. The MOAB will be delivered during the next day and the Spooky outfitted with the two napalm tanks. That will leave us without overhead cover for a period of time, but I’m not too concerned as we’re still a day away from the full moon. If the village finds us following, I’m confident we can either deal with them or lose them in the woods on our own.
We gather up our gear and I have the others wait for a moment before we start to follow their trail. In case things go awry, I still want to be able to track the village to their new location. Edging into the town, it doesn’t take long to place a tracker on one of their carts. After confirming an active signal with Lynn, I rejoin the others and we set out as night closes in.
* * * * * *
The rush of the water echoes loudly off the canyon walls. Deep in the gorge, the darkness is complete, even with the moon hanging in the nighttime sky. Above, the walls of the rift rise high, nearly converging. Only a thin gap high overhead shows the starry heavens. The stone walls are blacker than the velvet of the skies.
Following the villagers, we hug the stone wall as we make our way through the gorge, walking on the rocky shelf that extends the length of the canyon. The villagers had walked through the woods and continued through the chasm. We’d lost all sign of their trail on the rocky shelf, but there’s only one entrance and exit, so the plan is to pick up their trail on the far side. Plus, we have the advantage of our aerial platform tracking the migration of villagers through the gorge.
It takes us hours to traverse the canyon, coming out to a landscape illuminated by bright moonlight. To my dismay, Lynn informs us that she’s lost the villagers as they worked their way along a rocky ledge and vanished into a cave. The thought of being inside a cave when the Lycans turn is not my idea of a good time. It will also negate our plan of taking them down with the blockbuster bomb and fire. We could hit them when they emerge, but who knows if the cave they went into heads under the hills and emerges somewhere else. With Lynn’s guidance, we work along the same rocky ledge and finally arrive at the cave.
The cave yawns, revealing a great void of black with nothing visible beyond. An overhead projection of stone blocks the moonlight, creating an aura of darkness. Nothing is revealed thermally or with our night vision, but over eighty people vanished into its depths not long ago. We have no way of knowing how far in they went. The rocky ground in front reveals scuff marks, the only sign of passage.
“Lynn, keep an eye along the ridge to see if they emerge elsewhere. Look for other caves.”
“Copy, I’m already on it.”
Inching down to the cave, we arrive at the entrance. Gathered in a tight perimeter, we listen for voices or the shuffling of movement. Nothing comes out of the darkness, not even the whisper of wind. The lack of sound tells me that the people went deeper into the cave system.
“Well, we have two choices. Either we go in and see where they went or wait for them to emerge,” I say.
“If we’re voting, my choice is to wait here,” Denton replies.
“And if there’s an exit elsewhere?” Gonzalez responds.
“The Spooky will find it,” Denton answers.
“I’m not sure about that. These folks seem to have a way of vanishing,” McCafferty states.
“Look, I’m not eager to go wandering about in a cave where werewolves are likely to transform, but I also feel this is our best chance to get this shit over with,” Greg comments.
“Here’s the plan. It’s too risky to be in the caves when they transform, but we need to know where they are. We set a bingo time and turn around if we haven’t found them before then,” I say.
“I’m not very happy with that plan, Jack. You’ll be out of comms,” Lynn radios.
“One way or the other, we’ll be back before the full moon rises. We need to find these people,” I say, regretting that we didn’t just hit the village when we had the chance.
“Make that before sunset,” Lynn returns.
“Roger…or before the moon rises,” I reply, stepping into the cave.
“You sure like to live dangerously,” Greg comments once we’re inside.
I shrug. “I probably won’t make it through this anyway.”
The interior opens up into a cavern with alcoves to the left and right. The cave continues in the back, wide with a low ceiling of rough rock, tall enough for us to walk upright, although Greg is left with little room above his head. The floor of the tunnel is dry and worn smooth with a very fine layer of disturbed dust running almost the entire width. There’s no echoing of scraping feet or the reverberating murmur of voices. The people of the village entered and continued down the length.
“Two lines. Remember, sound will carry, so stay off comms. Nine hours and we’re bingo.”
It’s been a long last couple of nights. The only rest we managed was while watching the hamlet. Exhaustion is riding a wave just underneath the surface, though the adrenaline pushes that aside for the moment. But, as we continue, the fatigue will become more pronounced, resulting in sluggish minds and slower reactions. Taking a minute to pop stay-awake pills, we discard some of our gear off to one side, keeping mainly our ammo and grenades. We also keep the flamethrowers, even though they’re bulky—not so much because of their size, but because they ride differently. And the wand tucked into its holster requires additional care in order not to scrape it on the low ceiling or walls.
We separate and start down the tunnel, keeping as close to the sides as possible. The uneven floor makes it necessary to plan nearly every step. Before we go much further, we lose external comms. Of course, being inside a cave system, there isn’t much support that could have been provided anyway. The tunnel makes a sharp turn a little way in and begins a shallow descent.
Deeper under the ridge line the cave twists and turns, at times narrowing due to the banks of stone extending out from the walls. The chill and silence wrap around us; the sound of our exhalations is amplified. At one point, the cave narrows to the point that we have to squeeze through one at a time, carrying the flamethrower packs separately. The sides of the narrow passageway are worn smooth like the floor, evidence of years of passage through the cave.
The gap abruptly ends at a wide ledge of stone. Past the ledge is a vast gulf of space, a giant cavern stretching beyond our night vision capabilities. The edge of the shelf of stone we’re on marks a plummet, a sheer vertical wall ending at a barely seen floor, while the roof extends beyond our range of sight into an inky void. Somewhere off to the side comes the steady sound of water dripping, echoing in the vast space.
We gather on the ledge, momentarily pausing not only to listen for the sounds of movement but also to drink in the enormity, our senses alone giving birth to how big the place must be. While we can’t see just how large, the perception given is that the ridge above us might in fact be completely hollow.
The sound of the constant dripping is the only sound—plop…plop…plop. Placing a hand on McCafferty’s shoulder, I point to the smooth stone that heads along the ledge and then nod ahead, a signal for her to follow the trail. Rough stone is on both sides, the smoothness forming a path that’s easily followed. I can’t
imagine the number of years it must have taken for footsteps to wear down the stone. It could be that generations have traversed this route, the trek possibly taking place twice a month.
I mark the gap and place a tracker near the entrance in case we have to return. We’ll be able to pick up the tracker if we’re anywhere inside the cavern. We can always back track the smoothly worn path, but I’m not taking any chances.
The ledge ends at a series of drops down to smaller stone ledges, each one taking us closer to the floor of the cavern like a set of giant steps. At the bottom, the path becomes less obvious, the villagers and previous generations obviously having spread out more, but we’re still able to follow it. Quietly, we snake our way across the cavern, the ceiling and walls now lost from sight. Midway across, as near as I figure, the path turns to the right.
We follow it, a side wall eventually coming into sight. A large fissure mars the stone surface, a crack wider at the bottom that narrows as it rises to meet at a sharp angle. We’ve used up a bit of our nine hours, but we’ll keep going until that magic time. I’m 99.9 percent sure we’re on the trail of the Lycans, and the thought of returning to deal with them in human form keeps surfacing. But we still need that proof of certainty. If they use the caves to transform, it will negate our use of the MOAB and napalm. If that happens, we’ll have to take them out while they’re in human form. So, this mission has changed somewhat in my mind. Instead of engaging in a fight when they change, it’s now about gathering the necessary proof that will enable us to strike the village.
We track through the second tunnel as it weaves through the mountainside. There’re not only twists and turns, but elevation changes as well. Just when I think we’re climbing out of the vast cavern behind us, we start a descent. I usually have a pretty decent mental map of where I am in relation to the outside world, but now I’m having serious doubts. It’s not the direction so much as the elevation. I’m not sure how far above or below our initial entry point we are. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if we walked out on top of the ridge. On the other hand, I fully expect to start feeling the heat and fires of Hades around every bend.
The one nice thing is that the tunnel widened after our entry, although there have been times when Greg has had to walk hunched over due to lower ceilings. An hour past the cavern, another crack opens up to the side, a breath of cold, fresh air venturing out from it. A look into the fissure shows a pathway climbing steeply and vanishing from sight. The feel of the fresh air is uplifting after having spent so many hours creeping underground. The surface can’t be far away.
Just past the fissure, the main tunnel suddenly ascends and widens even more. A little further ahead, I see a crest after which it again descends. A few steps later, there comes the first sound that I’ve heard in hours other than our own quiet breaths. It’s an echoing murmur of people. We halt in place. Checking my watch, I learn we have been moving through the cave system for nearly eight hours. It’s daylight outside and I know we’re near the surface, but the question remains as to whether there’s another exit ahead.
As we creep up the ramp keeping near the walls, the darkness thins and there is the faint hint of illumination ahead. McCafferty and I peek over the crest, a radiant light now visible along one wall. Below, the tunnel descends and opens into a wide cavern, not as large as the one behind us, but still grand. At the bottom, the villagers are mulling about or resting on the stone floor. Past them is a ramp of stone leading down to a wide opening shaped like a half moon that leads outside. The top of the exit stands nearly three times the height of a man and as wide. Given the time of day, sunlight should be pouring in through the exit, but there’s only a small amount of radiant light, leading me to believe that there’s either more cave past the half-moon exit or an overhanging shelf that conceals the outlet.
I don’t dare radio Lynn yet as I fear even the faintest whisper might be heard, especially as we’re fairly convinced that the villagers have enhanced hearing. With a pat on McCafferty’s shoulder, we edge backward to join the others. Backtracking, we come to the small fissure and begin walking the steep path. After two sharp turns, the floor and walls are lit by sunlight. The floor levels out and we’re soon standing at another exit with a shelf of stone extending out into the bright light of the day.
I now radio Lynn, keeping my voice low, saying just enough to establish comms and inform her of our journey. She picks up our position and tells us that she’s inbound to the base to pick up the MOAB that was delivered and to reconfigure the exterior drop tanks for napalm. Crawling out on the ledge, I see we’re near the bottom of a steeply sloped ridge, a little higher than the valley floor. Looking toward where the large cavern must exit, I see a deep indention below a steep wall of granite, the entrance mostly hidden by a projection of rock. It’s like a huge bowl has been carved out underneath the overhanging cliff wall.
I have to hand it to them—they really have their act together. The only exposure they truly had was walking through the narrow gorge, but even then it would have been difficult to pick them up with the constricted view. Any satellite or aircraft would have had to be at the exact right spot at the right time.
I have to assume that the villagers have gathered here for their transformation. With the way the cave is set up, delivering any kind of weapon inside would be iffy. Only laser-guided munitions delivered from just the right incoming angle would be effective. However, the blockbuster Lynn is currently picking up might do the trick. Even if it isn’t a direct hit, it should be enough to bring down the roof. Follow that with the napalm canisters and then perhaps move in afterward to clean up. Instead of waiting for them to return to human form, we may just have a chance during this moon cycle. The only thing we need is confirmation, which will come one way or the other with the next moonrise.
Huddling inside the small cave, we spend the rest of the day watching the exterior and resting. In the afternoon, Lynn checks in and we point out the cave exit. She isn’t able to see the cave directly from above, but with our directions, she pinpoints the location. We’re far enough away that we shouldn’t be caught in the massive blast, but we’re sure to feel the concussive result as it travels through the ground and compresses the air.
* * * * * *
The sun passes beyond the western slopes, the hills silhouetted against a backdrop of fiery orange as if an immense fire were burning on the other side. Shadows fully envelop the valley, the area near the Lycan cave hidden in the gloom of the fading day. A soft wind blows from the west, a faint whisper permeating the basin as treetops bend ever so slightly, carrying the drifting smell of fir and cedar with it.
To the east, the sky has darkened to a deep purplish-blue, the first stars making their appearance. Before long, the gradual night will bring the full moon rising over the mountains, and with it, the truth will be revealed. The people of the remote village will either prove themselves to be Lycans or just some mysterious little group who chose to live their lives away from the trappings of civilization. With the march and gathering in the cavern just prior to the full moon, I highly doubt it’s the latter.
The night encroaches and spreads from east to west like ink being poured. Lynn is circling overhead, loaded with enough explosive to create our own little valley. We would lase the target ourselves, but the plan is to witness the transformation and then get the fuck out of here. Raven is sitting on the other side of the ridge, spun up and ready to go. The moon rises, Raven lifts off, we witness the change, Lynn bombs the hell out of the Lycans while we extract. Easy peasy. From that point, we’ll evaluate whether to return and clean up.
“Moonrise in fifteen,” Lynn radios.
While Henderson and Greg are in the cave keeping our backside clear, the rest of us lie on the chilled stone of the small ledge, keeping an eye on the surroundings and on the distant cave entrance. With about five minutes before the moon peeks over the horizon, the villagers emerge from within, remaining under the overhang. The startling fact is that they’re all
naked. They’re all there, the adults, teens, and children. I can’t imagine the children running with the pack as I don’t recall seeing any smaller ones. Perhaps they keep them in the cave while the larger ones hunt.
I pull my eye away from the scope for a moment. Seeing underage folks without their clothing is uncomfortable to say the least. I fully expect an FBI team to swoop in and slap the cuffs on.
Forcing myself back to the scope, I see Cletus standing in front of the group, all of them facing east. In the magnified zoom of my spotting scope, I see them clearly as they all drink from a flask each one is carrying, the adults making the children drink. Almost as one, the entire village swoons and falls. As they lie there unmoving, I wonder exactly what I just witnessed. It looks an awful lot like some Jonestown aftermath, bodies lying still on the ground.
Did I just witness a mass suicide? Did they choose this method instead of having to move from their homes?
Lynn still can’t get a vantage point to see under the overhang, so I’m relating what I’m seeing. With little time remaining, the Spooky is lining up for its run. The MOAB will be deployed from the rear where it will pick up a lased signal from the 130 and home in. They’ll then circle around for another run, this time dropping the jellied fuel canisters hanging on each wing.
The moon rises over the hills, seemingly launched as it ascends quickly. Silver moonlight floods the valley, the beams penetrating the protected shelter where the bodies lie and seem to glow under the brightness. The bodies blur—it’s difficult to tell if the effect is from the moonbeams cast upon their bodies, although the bodies then begin to elongate, undergoing changes that seem impossible. I can almost hear the crunch of bones as they alter and grow, hear the cartilage snapping. Rib cages rise, transitioning from human to the deep chests of canines. Pelvises and shoulders snap as they reform. Legs wrench from their position as the bone structures change; the arms contort as they are forced from the sides to angle down from the newly formed shoulders. The limbs arrange themselves quickly from bipedal to four-legged.