After checking and cleaning the weapons, Brick stood and removed his shirt. After five years of retirement, Chaney could see that he had lost none of his bull strength.
"We'd better get outfitted," Brick said, slipping on fatigues. "Then we can settle in and hit the rack. We got a ten-hour flight and we'll eat twice. But we'll need some sleep before we hit the deck and requisition another bird."
Chaney glanced over the crate and felt a slowly growing sense of security. He didn't know if it was caused by Brick's cockiness or the awesome collection of hardware. But whatever it was, it felt good.
In twenty minutes they were outfitted for bear. In addition to the Casull and the double-barreled Weatherby, Brick had the M-79 slung across his back. At least ten M-79 grenades were on the sling. Chaney was amazed at how well he slipped back into the mode. It was as if he had never ceased being a marine, which in truth he hadn't. He remembered the code: once a marine, always a marine.
Chaney had opted to carry the grappling hook, thinking the extra weight would tire Brick out more quickly. But upon observing how easily the retired marshal moved about, fully armed and prepared for a meal, he realized that it had been a useless concern. Together they locked the crate and moved upstairs.
"All this recondo makes ya hungry," Brick grunted. "Let's grab some chow."
Chaney was behind him as they reached the short ladder that led to the storage bay of the jet. He was thinking about apologizing to the old man for dragging him into harm's way when Brick said, "Ain't nuthin' makes you feel alive like this stuff. By God, I'm in the field again."
***
Light splintered and beamed through trees and he moved with more caution, so close to the township. He could smell, even at this great distance, the stink of oil and electric circuits. He could taste their scent on the wind that lofted gently through the moving green leaves, and he angled for the deepest of day shadow.
It was not difficult to remain in stands so thick that no one could have seen him. The trunks were large and long, and provided thick cover as he moved, still unexhausted from his long, fierce run through the night.
Several times he had imagined what he might have looked like: a leaping piece of the darkness, fangs and feral eyes dancing in distant shadows, closing, grinning, passing, vanishing.
His mind envisioned the man—the hunter—who had tracked him so relentlessly. He imagined, over and over, the man's throat in his hands—as it had almost been but for the man's uncanny reflexes—and knew that he would not make the same mistake twice. Next time, he would strike with utter ferocity with nothing between them.
His passion compelled him to run—always run—as he closed on the last research station. Yes, the man would be there . . .
As the hours wore on he felt the first faint lightness in his stride. He did not leap and climb so easily, and realized without conscious thought— for he had little—that he must eat. Yes, kill and eat quickly, and continue. For the night would be upon him soon, and with night he must be strong so that he might feast on even more delicious flesh.
***
Dr. Hamilton was enjoying the sunlight, staring at the rapidly setting crimson orb, when he heard the crunch of gravel behind him. He turned with a pleasant smile that faded instantly.
Stopping shoulder to shoulder, Nathaniel Hunter gazed silently into the mountains. He said nothing. Seemed as if he never would. And after a moment, Hamilton seized the opportunity.
"Well," he said pleasantly, turning away, "I suppose I should return to work . . ."
"I know what you did," Hunter said, not looking back.
Hamilton turned, smiled. "Excuse me?"
Hunter said the word solidly: "Luther."
The sun seemed brighter of a sudden, burning down from a wintry sky. Hunter listened but heard no retreating footsteps. Then there was a soft crunch. He waited.
"I'm sorry?" Hamilton asked, staring down.
Hunter was several inches shorter. Hunter didn't look up as he said, "I was talking about Luther. An old friend of yours. Talked to him the other day. He's having something of a midlife crisis. Said to say hello."
Hamilton thought his smile was unreadable—a self-deception he had unconsciously developed from years of conceit, when he assumed his charm and intellect were swaying his listeners.
"Young man," he began, "please make yourself clear."
Hunter turned to him. "He's an old friend of yours. He's changed a little over the years."
"You are mistaken. I do not know this man."
Hunter laughed. "I think you're going to, Hamilton."
A long pause. Hamilton smiled faintly. "You are on dangerous ground, Mr. Hunter. Very dangerous."
Blue eyes smoldering dangerously, like a storm sweeping in from an angry sea, Hunter spoke with cold contempt.
"You know who I am, Hamilton." He glanced to the side, ensuring that they were alone. "And I know what you've created. I've seen it, spoken with it, fought with it. And now you've put me in the position where I have to kill it. So I hold you responsible. I just thought you might want to know that. And something else. When this is over, I'm going to destroy everything that your work has brought. Because you've done something no man had a right to do. You set something free that should have never been set free. It had its time. Its chance. But it was over. It should have stayed over. Your arrogance brought it back to where it doesn't belong."
Hamilton was leaning back slightly. His smile was ultimately arrogant, even genuinely amused. He laughed.
"What. . ." He faltered. "Please, Mr. Hunter, what can a man such as yourself do to someone like me?" He enjoyed it. "Son, listen, you are stressed. I understand. You have suffered a terrible ordeal. I can easily arrange for you to have a – "
"Luther is as good as dead, Doctor," Hunter said. "Everything that you've done is dead." He shook his head at the facility. "All this. It's gone. I'll see to it."
Hamilton, despite his arrogance, knew enough to be shocked by this open defiance. His face changed almost instantaneously. In an eye blink his amusement was transformed into chilling hostility.
"You don't want to do that, Mr. Hunter."
"Oh, I do. And I will." Hunter smiled. It was his turn to be amused. "When I'm through, you'll be lucky if all they do is send you to prison."
Hamilton regarded him narrowly. "You realize, of course, that I am a very powerful man."
Hunter laughed. "So am I, Doctor – very powerful. Maybe you want to see how powerful."
A pause hung between them.
Hamilton reassumed an air of ignorance. "Really, Mr. Hunter, I don't know what you mean. Denial, you know, is quite an efficient defense. Especially when there is no evidence."
"There'll be evidence, Doctor. There'll be Luther's dead body."
Hamilton smiled. Nodding, Hunter walked away. He was ten feet gone when Hamilton tried to get the last word.
"Situations like these can get persons killed, Mr. Hunter."
Hunter turned back. He smiled, but his eyes were deadly.
"Nobody lives forever."
***
It was a strange gathering, Hunter contemplated, as they surrounded the professor's bed. Takakura and Taylor stood on one side, Hunter on the other. Wilkenson had been flown out for injuries, and they were grateful. For although none had spoken it aloud, they somehow knew that all considered him guilty of sabotage.
The professor began with a statement that reminded Hunter of the old man's wise perspective, his maturity and dignity. His voice was heavily laced with sadness as he spoke.
"I, for one, will greatly mourn the loss of those brave men who accompanied us into the mountains." The statement was followed by a pause, like a moment of silence to honor the lost. "But there is nothing we can do for the dead. The living are our concern. And that is why I have called you together."
Together, they stood in patient silence, awaiting the professor's direction.
"Chromosomal manipulation, my friends," he said.
&n
bsp; Hunter and Bobbi Jo exchanged a glance. Takakura's burning black eyes never left the professor.
"That can be the only explanation," he continued, perilous fatigue in his voice. "I suspected it but was uncertain until Nathaniel told me that it spoke to him, even as we speak to each other."
Knowing of the meeting, Hunter had already briefed the others so that there was no shock. Hunter regarded the old man. "But it seemed to have trouble communicating, Professor. It knew, or part of it knew, what it wanted to say. But it had difficulty."
"Yes, that is to be expected." Tipler nodded. "Yes, to be expected." With visible effort, he composed himself. "My friends, again I thank you for your risk, and your sacrifice, to remove me from those mountains. I know that you engaged in extreme and unnecessary risk because you would not leave me. I remain in your debt. And now the time has come for me to tell you what this creature is, and where it came from, though I can provide no proof. But we are all weary, and perilously short of time. Forgive me if I may seem presumptuous."
Takakura spoke softly. "Speak, Professor. Among ourselves, we make our own rules."
With a smile Tipler nodded, seemingly pleased at the acquiescence. "My friends, I believe I know who, or what, this creature is. And you may find my theory both irrational and unbelievable, but I beg you to listen to me fully before you deliver judgment. And, perhaps, when I am done, you will be satisfied that my reasoning merits some small measure of consideration."
"Go ahead, Professor," Hunter said. "So far, you're the only one that has made sense."
Tipler laughed, then his face grew intense. "This creature that we have tracked and joined in combat again and again, it is not a creature that has ever before walked the Earth. It is ... how do I describe it ... an artificial species – a monstrous amalgamation of science and ancient man which should have been the work of God, not humankind. And I will explain to you how I have arrived at my observation. Clearly, the creature's habits, his faculties of strength, speed, need not be addressed. We have all observed them. That is sufficient. However, his faculty of speech is not in keeping with prehistoric man, as his physical attributes clearly are. Thus the mystery. Unless the creature is, in some dark manner, the genetic recombination of both ancient man and the modern mind." He gazed at each of them in turn.
"You see," he continued, "we now believe that ancient man was more beastlike than human. There is still a beastlike aspect to our nature, but it has been smothered and controlled by our higher faculties. No, this creature we now confront is not constrained by conscience or morality like modern man because, quite simply, it has none. Consequently it obeys all that it knows, which is the beast within. It is unhesitating, unconscionable, unrelenting, unafraid and unstoppable. It is the purest of all beings because it is totally unrestrained in its determination to fulfill its lusts for blood, or flesh, or vengeance, or any other motivation. Yet"—he waved a hand—"it speaks our language, which means it is not prehistoric or ancient man."
There was a long silence.
Takakura broke it. "And how would you explain such a phenomenon?"
The professor gazed at him. "Quite simply, I would surmise that DNA from prehistoric man survived in an icy tomb and was discovered in this barren land. It was somehow reconstituted and then implanted into a modern man."
Tipler allowed that to settle. Hunter said nothing. He wondered how complicated this would become. He was no scientist, but he had little trouble believing it.
"That is the only explanation," Tipler said. "I have looked at the facts, simply and dispassionately gone where science inevitably led, and arrived at this bizarre conclusion. I believe, my friends, that this creature was once a modern man. And these ... these research stations ... conducted an experiment which transformed it into what is neither ancient nor modern, but a hideous blasphemy of the two. It retains, however, somewhere within its once-human mind the power of speech, of primitive communication, and the emotions of vengeance, rage, and lust. It is totally dominated by the bestial character of man that was overcome ten thousand years ago." He stared at Hunter, focusing. "You do not merely challenge a beast, Nathaniel. You challenge the darkness within us all. A darkness that man overcame eons ago because it only wrought destruction, and death. Except, now, that darkness is coupled with a dark and terrible intelligence. Its rage has not changed. It is the same. Pure. Undiluted. Yet stronger. Because its major cerebral faculties are aided by some form of modern knowledge, however weakened by its transformation."
Hunter said nothing, holding the professor's stare.
He didn't really know what to say, except that he believed the old man's theory. Nor was he certain what the next course of action should be, since the professor was clearly too ill for an air transport. In a full-blown emergency, Hunter would risk it, but only then. Because the old man's heart would probably not endure the strain. Then Tipler relieved him of the burden of reply.
"Fantastic science is often difficult to believe, my friends." He lowered his head slightly, staring between them—at nothing. "But one tenet is certain: some things do not belong to man. And changing the fabric of humanity—the very stuff of which man is made—is a task best left to God."
Releasing a deep breath, Hunter stood off from the wall, met Takakura's glancing eyes. Focused again on Tipler. "Professor," he began gently, "you can't be moved. You said you want to leave, but to move you now might precipitate another—"
"I know what you are thinking, Nathaniel." He raised a hand. "But this is what I surmise. This creature, it will come. Probably tonight. Because it has been methodically assaulting these facilities, one after another which, in turn, means there is something it is searching for – something its human mind still seeks. And when it comes, it will leave no living thing in its wake. So anyone deciding to remain will be in grave danger with nightfall."
Hunter leaned closer. "Professor, I'm not leaving. I'm staying here because you have to stay here. So is Ghost. And these other people aren't going to abandon the facility either. They think they can defeat it and ...I don't know ...maybe they can. They're heavily armed with high-caliber rifles, and this facility is far more secure than the others. It won't be easy for that thing to get in here."
Glancing at the rest of them, Hunter continued, "I'm gonna find out what's so special about this place, Professor. And I will be here until I can get you out. Takakura and Bobbi Jo have my respect, no matter what decision they make."
"I'm staying," said Bobbi Jo squarely.
Takakura didn't even reply. His chiseled face and resolute gaze said it for him.
"Yes," Tipler responded. "Just as I presumed." He shook his head lightly. "Sometimes it is unfortunate to possess strong faculties for anticipation. It makes life so much more painful. But, nevertheless, this creature is coming, and each of you will be forced to battle it once more. So you must make yourselves ready, and remove my welfare from your mind so that you are not distracted. In contest against such a beast, who has already decided what it will do and is moving upon that impulse while you are debating the proper reaction, you can tolerate no hesitation. No fear. No mercy. You must become just as merciless, just as instinctive. Equally as animal. And you must accomplish all this without losing your faculties of higher reason, which may yet defeat it. Yes, you must be what it has become, and more, in order to destroy it."
Bobbi Jo stepped from the wall and laid a hand on his. Her smile was radiant. "That's okay, Professor. We're ready for it. You just rest and leave the killing to us." She winked. "Hell, that's what I look forward to!"
A slight raising of his eyes and Tipler made a compassionate sound—something between agreement and amusement. His voice was raspy when he replied, "Leave the killing to you – yes, it is beyond me now. But I wonder ... What destroyed this creature before, for surely stood at the top of the ecosystem, virtually without enemies. And yet it was, somehow, wiped from the face of the Earth overnight. I wonder: What could have been its doom?"
Hunter said nothing, be
cause he had nothing to say. But he raised his eyes to gaze out the window and measure the sun's dying arc. He didn't have much time to prepare, so he reached out and laid a strong hand on the professor's shoulder.
"Get some rest, Professor," he said confidently. "We're ready for it. And ...it's like you said; something killed this thing before. Something can kill it again."
***
Takakura and Bobbi Jo entered the Armory after preliminary identification was made according to rules and regulations. Takakura wore jungle fatigues but Bobbi Jo had switched to solid-black BDUs. Her blond hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and she wore dark glasses to prepare her eyes for night vision; the less light she perceived between now and dusk, the sharper her eyesight would be in shadows.
Takakura's eyes raked the weapons as the master sergeant looked on, waiting. Finally, the Japanese spoke. "Give me the M-14 on the wall, the one with a Kreiger heavyweight barrel, a belt for ten twenty-round magazines and a .45 with four extra clips."
The sergeant laid them out on the counter. The M-14, a preferred weapon of navy SEALs because of its accuracy and formidable stopping power with the .308 round, was almost a work of art.
"It's glass bedded with a titanium firing pin for faster contact," the sergeant said easily. "And the .45 is broken in. You won't have any trouble with either of them."
Saying nothing, Takakura lifted the weapon and cleared it. He inserted an empty clip and removed it. "Where can I practice with it before nightfall?"
"Got a firing range at the back of the base. It's supposed to give one minute of angle at a hundred yards. That's as far as the course goes. You want a scope?"
"The eyes which I possess are sufficient," Takakura muttered, outfitting himself with belts, clips, strapping the .45 on with a thigh holster. When he was finished, Bobbi Jo said simply, "I need thirty .50-caliber rounds loaded hot for the Barrett. Seven extra clips. And give me a cleaning and gauging kit."
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