Taillights came into view ahead of him, and his goggles automatically adjusted the contrast so he wasn't blinded. The van they were after sat on the side of the road with its lights on.
He pulled his machine pistol up with one hand and aimed at the figure that ran around the back of the van. The variation paused, jerking the driver's door open as Number Two opened fire. He emptied most of the 30 round magazine into the figure and door as he passed.
Number Two spun the bike around 20 meters up the road and reloaded. He expected to see a slumped body, but the van door was shut and its headlights went off as he watched. Bloody footsteps trailed across the road, disappearing at the edge. He parked the bike next to the van and peered into the forest. Leaves rustled from the slight breeze. He pushed the infrared goggles up when the others stopped in the van and climbed out with their weapons ready.
Number Two pointed at the bloody steps. “I nailed him. I have no idea how he got away.”
Haskel and Murray looked at each other and back at him.
“You'll see,” Murray said.
Number Five skidded to a stop next to them. “Did I miss anything?”
Murray shrugged. “Not yet.”
“Good,” Number Five said.
Haskel pointed at Number Three who had tiptoed, trying to look into the variation's van. “Back the hell away from that. We don't need another fried newbie.” He pushed his transmitter button. “Larry, are you in the air?” He didn't get a response after a few seconds, looked at Murray, and shrugged.
She frowned.
“Larry?” Nothing. “Nick, have you heard from Larry?”
“Not since the last transmission when you were with him,” Nick said.
“Roger,” Haskel said.
Murray shrugged. “They're probably working on the helicopter.”
Haskel looked at her and spoke again. “Yaden? Number One?” No one answered. He looked at Murray. “Something is wrong.”
She shrugged. “Larry can handle it.” She looked into the forest. “We have to find this one.”
Haskel nodded and pointed at Number Three. “Guard the vans.” He pointed at Five. “Cruise the road and make sure he doesn't come out farther down.”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
Haskel turned towards Murray and Number Two. “Let's go, and hope this is a turkey shoot.”
Chapter 21
Roek slowed down once he'd gone a hundred meters up the forested hill. He didn't want to get lost and not make it back to the van, assuming they didn't disable it. Plus, he'd burn through his energy that much quicker. He could already feel The Urge gnawing at him, clouding his mind, along with the pain. Bullet wounds caused grievous wounds, and his body burned through nights worth of energy within minutes when called upon to heal them. Especially, when they felt like they'd been treated with something that burned his insides. With luck, one of the hunters would supply the refill he needed.
He jumped onto a log and listened. His pursuers tried to be quiet, but their deliberately placed footsteps were still loud to him. The Change hadn't made his hearing better, it'd only silenced his other body functions. He could pick out three of them spread less than 10 meters apart. The one in the middle was ahead of the other two.
Roek moved along the fallen tree until a rock provided a stepping off point that wouldn't leave tracks, and he worked his way to the top of the outcropping that it'd fallen from. Once again, he doubted his decision to not use a gun. He'd have to get one the next chance he had. Enemies like these demanded it.
Branches snapped and leaves rustled as the USVU team moved in on his position. There weren't any lights visible, so he hugged the rock he lay on and listened. It was warm to the touch and would help conceal him from thermal imaging should the helicopter reappear. Blood would be left behind from his clothing, but it'd dry fast.
His hunters went straight to the end of the blood trail on the tree. They talked between themselves, but Roek couldn't make out the whispers. Footsteps sounded as they spread out, looking to pick his trail up. He decided that they'd gotten close enough.
“Don't you have something else to do?” Roek threw his voice so that it sounded as though the words were spoken far to his right.
The three people froze. Roek could hear them breath. Leaves crinkled as one of them crept in the direction his voice had came from.
Several seconds passed before a man spoke. “Show yourself. We want to talk.”
Roek fingered one of the bullet holes in his shirt. “Sure you do.” He moved his voice farther way, as though he'd retreated up the hill away from them.
“Listen, fucker,” the woman said. “Give it up.”
All three of them moved up the hill and took new positions. One was close enough for Roek to see. He was dressed in black body armor, had night vision goggles on, and held an assault rifle with multiple attachments. There weren't any markings on his shoulder to indicate rank or affiliation.
“It's not nice to call people names after you've shot them.” Roek kept his voice coming from the same spot as before.
“Nor is it nice to kill people,” the woman said.
“I cleanse society of defective personalities. Mostly.”
“It's the mostly part we have a problem with.”
“Oh, I'm sure it is, officer, or whatever you are, but you'll have to find me.” Roek moved his voice farther up the hill. “Good luck.”
The man that Roek could see moved out of sight, and the three people spoke between themselves. They moved up the hill in a tight group. Roek waited until their footsteps faded. Occasionally, one of them whispered, but they didn't return in his direction.
Roek slipped off the rock and through the forest, stepping onto the road behind the vehicles. The second van still hadn't arrived. Perhaps he'd get away before they had backup.
The first van sat behind Roek's with its lights on. Another man dressed and armed like the others paced between the vehicles with his goggles on top of his helmet. Sweat ran down his face. His rifle hung from a single-point-sling that he gripped with his right hand, keeping the weapon pointed at the ground. His left hand was free, wiping at his eyes and blocking the glare from the lights when he looked up the road in Roek's direction. He quickly turned away each time he did so.
Roek dropped to the ground behind the USVU van and watched the man's legs.
“...vampires. What the fuck...” The man mumbled to himself. “...piece of shit contract and get a rent-a-cop job.”
The reek from the man told Roek that he wasn't concerned about the contract, but was nervous and scared. Little of the sweat was caused by the warm night.
Roek waited until the man presented his back before he slipped down the side of the van. He broke into a run when he reached the edge of the light, slamming into the man before he'd half turned at the sound of his feet. The force of the hit flung the man through the air. Something popped in his back and his breath escaped in a gasp. Roek clamped his hands around the man's neck until he turned blue and lay still.
Roek tried to stand, but The Urge got the better of him, and he fed on the man before taking his gun and ammo. He threw everything into his passenger seat, and then slashed all the tires on the USVU van and motorcycle.
Seconds later, he was chasing his headlights down the dark road.
Chapter 22
Young kept steady pressure on the lid to his prison as the van stopped and those in front got out, slamming their doors. He couldn't hear anything said between them and the others, but he did hear clamps being undone at the rear. The noise didn't last long. Electric motors turned on and tires chirped. Pieces of gravel bounced off metal, and the other van drove away a second later.
Someone climbed behind the wheel of the vehicle Young was in, but didn't shut the door. The person turned the vehicle around and left the engine on when they exited.
Young couldn't tell how many were left outside, but at least two. He could hear voices through the open door, however, the engin
e rumble and sound of a wench cable being pulled out drowned out the words. He was alone. Sorta. As much as he'd be anytime soon.
A wave of dizziness and images of blood rushed through his head. Hunger pain like cramps tightened his gut. He shook his head, realizing that he'd relaxed his pressure on the capsule when the voices cut off.
Something popped in his elbows when Young pushed again, but he didn't stop. The widening crack urged him on, along with the fear that he may grow too weak to try again. The metal suddenly buckled outward with a dull crinkle. He stopped, listening for signs the sound had been heard, but there wasn't any break in activity outside the van.
He pushed the metal out of his way and pulled himself from the metal shell. The thickness of the metal surprised him when he rubbed his finger over the edge. Had he really bent it with such ease?
More cramps doubled him over, and he tripped over a body on the floor. Whomever they pursued had taken a toll. He pushed himself upright, realizing he could hear the heartbeats of those standing between the van and helicopter. His cramps tensed in tune to them.
Young looked out the window and seen three people. One was a grizzled old man in a civilian T-shirt and faded fatigues who held a sawed off shotgun in one hand and smoked a joint with the other. The other two were in combat gear. One of them weaved the wench cable through the landing gear of the chopper while the third person looked around with his weapon ready.
Young crouched with one foot on either side of the body. It'd been years since his last scene where someone had been electrocuted, but he'd never forget the smell of burnt fat.
The front of the van dipped as the winch buzzed to life, dragging the chopper over the pavement until the rotors were clear of the trees. Landing gear and windows on the left side had been damaged by some impact.
The old man hung his shotgun from a hook on his belt and climbed onto the chopper to look it over.
Young looked around for a weapon.
All the storage areas were locked with fingerprint readers, and the weapons that hung openly on the walls were also secured. He looked down. The body was in full gear.
Young didn't see a rifle, but an array of other weapons were attached to the harness across the corpse's chest and down his legs. A large revolver caught Young's eye, and he pulled it free. The name, caliber, and serial numbers had been removed. He opened the cylinder and nondescript, handloaded shells greeted him. There wasn't even a caliber on them, but they were at least the size of a .45. He cocked the hammer and opened the van's side door. It rolled silently.
Young meant to run into the dark forest when his feet hit the ground, but the metallic smell of the blood in his captors' veins made him pause. His entire body reacted. Hair stood up on his arms, and a burst of strength surged through him. His thoughts dissipated into a red fog.
He attacked without making a decision to do so.
The two men on the ground had let themselves become distracted. They watched the older man crawl around on the chopper, growling under his breath. Neither of them heard Young's charge until he was right behind them.
The one on the right turned in time for Young to pull the trigger less than a meter from his nose. The unknown caliber exited the back of the man's head with everything once contained inside. The recoil from the overpowered shell almost tore the gun from Young's grip.
Young grabbed the second man's rifle barrel and shoved it into the air as the man squeezed the trigger. He slammed the revolver butt into the man's unprotected face three times before the bone caved like paper-mache. The smell of flowing blood overwhelmed his senses, and Young latched onto the man, driving him to the ground.
He heard the boom from the shotgun, but it was distance. A burning sensation spread out from where the pellets hit him in the back.
Young fed while he screamed at his disobeying body to turn on the last attacker. He couldn't unclinch his mouth from the man's throat, nor loosen the death grip he had on the dying man. However, he heard the shotgun being reloaded, the last man's footsteps behind him, and he felt the touch of the shotgun barrels between his shoulder blades. He also heard the roar of both barrels being fired at once.
Then the red haze he looked through faded to black.
Chapter 23
Haskel, Murray, and Number Two charged through the forest as fast as they could in response to a van engine rev. Cobwebs and branches hit them in the face, leaves slid from under their feet, and tree roots tried to trip them. The variation's van engine faded into the distance long before they reached the road.
A voice crackled in their ears as they finished fighting through the undergrowth.
“I've made contact,” Number Five said.
“Disengage and regroup,” Haskel said, looking at the slashed tires and Number Three's body. “We're not going anywhere, so you have to check on Larry and the others.”
“But he's right there!”
“That's an order,” Haskel said.
There was a pause before Number Five spoke. “Yes, sir.”
Murray lit a cigarette and kicked one of the slashed tires. “I thought you'd put an order in for more run flats.”
“I did.” Haskel took a hit from his e-cigarette. “I'm still waiting for a response.”
“I really hate this government contract shit,” Murray said.
Haskel shrugged. “You don't have long to go.”
“That's the fucking truth.”
Number Five coasted to a stop next to them. “What now?”
Haskel pointed at Number Two. “Ride with Five to check on Larry and get the equipment van back here.”
Their taillight disappeared down the road seconds later.
Haskel put his e-cigarette into his pocket and pointed at Number Three's body. “I'll get the dead newbie out of sight and start on the tires. Stand guard in case he tries to circle back on us.”
Murray nodded, holding her rifle ready with one hand and smoking her cigarette with the other. “I don't think we have to worry. He didn't attack in the forest, and I doubt he'll blow his escape.” She looked up the road. “We have to worry about the other one.”
Larry's voice exploded in their ears. “Where the fuck is everyone?”
“That's what we've wondered about you,” Haskel said. “Number Two and Five are on their way. What happened?”
“The blood sucker broke out of that bargain basement eggshell we've carried around for months,” Larry said. “I unloaded both barrels into his back while he fed, but Yaden and Number One didn't make it.”
“Well, shit.” Haskel looked at Murray, and they both shook their heads. “I sorta liked Yaden. Have you notified Nick?”
“Hell, no. I secured everything here before I contacted you.”
“Figures.” Haskel shook his head. “Over and out.”
Larry coughed for an answer.
Haskel switched over to Nick. “We need the retrieval team at the chopper's coordinates.”
“How many this time?”
“Four.”
“We got off light.”
“It's good to have a break,” Haskel said.
“I'll let you know their ETA,” Nick said.
Murray dropped her cigarette butt on the pavement and twisted it under one toe. “Is this cluster fuck mission over?”
Haskel spoke as he pulled the spare tires and tools out. “I call it over. We've killed one and put another on the run. That's a successful mission by all parameters.” He slid the jack under the first wheel and loosened the lug nuts before he lifted it off the ground. “And we have to learn the newbie's names. The two still around. They'll probably die on the next mission, so I don't know why we bother.”
Murray lit another cigarette. “You remember Herb Keith?”
“The guy who was crushed in the van on my second mission?”
“Yeah. He said the same thing about you.”
Haskel looked back at Murray. “I always knew he was an asshole.”
Murray laughed and flicked ashes away.
***
Haskel had cleaned up everything except the blood on the pavement by the time Larry and the rookies arrived with the equipment van and last two spare tires he needed. Larry waited in the back with the pile of bodies. The variation was on top with two pairs of shackles around his wrists and ankles. Larry kept his shotgun barrel on the variation's ribs.
“This son of a bitch had a handcuff key on him.” Larry pointed in the general direction of their HQ a state away. “And those sons of bitches didn't tell us the shackles used the same lock.”
Haskel put the jack and lug wrench away. “We shouldn't have dismissed it when he'd said he was a detective. You're lucky not to be on top of Yaden.” He looked into the back of the van. The top part of the metal containment unit had been pried back. “I told them that a single lock in the middle wouldn't hold if one got their hands loose.”
Larry lit a cigarette without taking his finger off the shotgun trigger. “Are we putting this sack of shit in the other one or not?”
Haskel looked at the blood that dripped onto the step and followed it to the carpet under the pile of bodies. “Yeah. Is he still alive?”
“I'm not sure. He twitches sometimes, but his eyes haven't opened since I unloaded on him.” Larry flicked ashes out the door.
Haskel pointed at Number Two and Five. “Get him into the other containment unit so the retrieval team can take the whole thing when they get here.”
Larry climbed out of the van and watched the bodies be repositioned. “How long before they're here?”
Haskel shrugged. “Do we have an ETA, Nick?”
“Less than 30 minutes,” Nick said. “They're on the interstate.”
Larry looked at Number Two and Five who were rubbing blood off their hands. “That fucker locked up?”
“Oh, yeah,” Number Five said. “We were thinking,” he looked at Number Two, “that we made it through our first mission.”
The Hunt Page 6