by John J. Rust
Geek grabbed two USAS-12 shotguns, one for him, one for Sherlock. Rastun took an Aster 7. He put two tranq darts and two toxin darts in the chamber and stuffed two cases of extra darts in his assault vest.
“Let’s go.” Rastun led them into the forest.
They took their time, mindful of their footfalls, trying to make as little noise as possible. Rastun scanned for any sentries, booby traps or security cameras. He found none.
The trio reached the edge of the woods without incident. They squatted behind some trees and drank from their water bottles. Rastun pushed his goggles over his head and took out his night vision binoculars.
All the windows of the mansion were boarded up, with no light leaking through them. The wooden walls looked rotted. A chimney poked out of the eastern side of the mansion, much of it crumbled away.
“Looks like the restoration company that owns this place hasn’t done much restoring,” Geek commented as he, too, stared through his binocs.
Rastun zoomed out and examined the grounds around the mansion. They looked like they hadn’t been maintained in years. The grass had grown waist high. That meant good concealment for them.
The three worked their way around the perimeter, staying among the trees. Every twenty yards they stopped and scanned the mansion and it grounds. Rastun didn’t see any sentries. He checked the mansion’s roof and walls, and the trees near it, for any security cameras.
He did not see a single one.
They did find four sheds at the back of the mansion. Rastun guessed they had been used as stables when this place had been a horse ranch. He also saw no security cameras on them.
Then again, the stables looked so dilapidated they would collapse under the extra weight of a camera.
When they finished their recon, the only visible security they found was a barbed wire fence with a few NO TRESPASSING signs.
“I was expecting a little more than this,” said Geek. “Actually, I was expecting a lot more.”
“So was I,” Rastun added. “A couple of drunken teenagers could breach this place.”
“Sometimes the best security is no security,” Sherlock stated.
Rastun looked at him. Sherlock had a point. If you posted sentries and put up security cameras and an electric fence, people would know something was going on.
But who would give a rundown mansion in the middle of nowhere a second glance?
“So what’s the plan, Cap’n?” Geek turned to him.
“We infiltrate through the rear. I want to see if there’s anything in those sheds first. The high grass should give us good cover, just keep an eye out for tripwires or motion sensors. There’s also bound to be a good amount of wildlife in grass that tall.”
“What kind of wildlife?” asked Geek.
“Rabbits, chipmunks, mice.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“Skunks, rats, snakes.”
Geek frowned. “That’s not so good.”
“We’ll survive. Sherlock.” Rastun looked to him. “Head back to the car. If things go south, we’ll need you to extract us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Geek tossed him the keys. “Remember, it’s a company ride. You scratch it, it comes out of my paycheck.”
“I’ll take good care of it.”
Sherlock headed through the woods back to the Escalade.
“Ready to do this?” Geek asked Rastun.
He nodded. “Rangers lead the way.”
THIRTY-NINE
Rastun crawled under the barbed wire fence with no difficulty. So did Geek. The barbed wire courses they’d gone through in basic and in Ranger School had been far more challenging.
They entered the tall grass. Rastun’s eyes darted between the stables thirty yards ahead and the ground in front of him, mindful of tripwires or motion detectors. He found none.
Maybe there aren’t any. Maybe Sherlock had it right, that the bad guys decided the best security was no security.
A voice whispered from the back of his mind, As soon as you let your guard down, you go home in a body bag.
He continued checking for tripwires and motion sensors. He still didn’t find any.
The stables lay 15 yards away. He continued crawling, the grass brushing against his face.
A thin dark line appeared in front of him.
Rastun stopped. Every muscle in his body tensed.
The line moved toward him. A forked tongue flickered out of it.
Snake.
He remained statue still, studying it. Through the phosphorescent green of his night vision goggles, he couldn’t determine the snake’s color. He estimated its size at nearly three feet.
Eastern Cottonmouths reached three feet.
Rastun looked at the snake’s head. It didn’t have the triangular shape common to most venomous snakes. The head on this one was round. Maybe a King Snake. They were common to Virginia.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t venomous.
The snake flicked out its tongue and slithered onto Rastun’s arm. He didn’t flinch. Growing up around zoo folk, he’d handled all sorts of snakes, from Garter Snakes to Anacondas.
This snake slid over his arm and continued on its way.
Rastun and Geek made it to the stables without further incident. They crept beside the rotted wooden wall. Rastun eyed the mansion. It remained dark and quiet.
He peered around the edge of the wall. One of the wooden double doors was missing. He peeked inside.
Empty.
They crawled across the ground to the second stable. It, too, was empty.
When they reached the third stable, Rastun opened the door a crack and checked inside.
An SUV sat inside.
Using hand signals, he told Geek there was a vehicle inside and to take up position across from him. Geek moved to other double door and crouched, clutching his shotgun. Holding his Aster 7 with one hand, Rastun held up his other hand and counted down.
3… 2… 1.
They opened the double doors and rushed inside, weapons up. Rastun swept the right side of the stables. He saw no one.
“Clear to the right,” he stated.
“Clear to the left,” said Geek.
They advanced on the SUV and checked inside. Empty. The vehicle was a newer model Ford Escape with Virginia plates.
“This confirms it,” said Geek. “Someone’s here.”
“And probably up to no good if they’re hiding a car like this in here.”
Rastun committed the license plate to memory and headed back outside, Geek following.
The last stable also had an SUV inside it.
“So this puts the opposition at a minimum of two and a maximum of ten,” Rastun explained. “I’d bet that number’s closer to ten than two.”
“So maybe ten bad guys against two ex-Rangers.” Geek grinned. “The odds are still in our favor, Cap’n.”
Rastun chuckled.
They exited the stable and crawled to the rear of the mansion. Rastun examined one of the windows. Boards covered it. He lifted his NVGs and peered through a crack between the boards. He saw nothing but blackness.
They crept along the wall to another boarded-up window. Again Rastun tried to peek through the cracks. Again he only saw pitch black.
He reached into his right boot and pulled out his tactical knife. He flicked open the blade and eased it through the crack. The tip poked a heavy fabric.
“Blackout curtain,” Rastun whispered to Geek.
They continued along the wall. Rastun neared the corner when his brow furrowed. Something wasn’t right. He tuned out his and Geek’s soft footsteps, the gentle night breeze, the chirping of crickets.
His ears picked up another sound.
Rastun stopped, his left fist shooting up. He sensed Geek halt behind him.
“You hear that?” he whispered over his shoulder.
Geek scrunched his face and raised his head. “Sounds like a hum.”
Rastun pressed his ear against the wall
. The hum grew a bit louder. He quickly recognized the sound. He’d heard it plenty of times during raids on terrorist bases.
“Generator,” he mouthed to Geek. “C’mon.”
They made their way along the wall until they came to the rear door. The pair checked it for any sign of an alarm system. They found none.
Rastun gently turned the knob and gave the door a small push.
Locked.
Time for one of the little known skills the Army taught its elite forces.
Rastun shoved his tactical knife into the slit between the door and the doorjamb. He jiggled the knife back and forth until he heard the lock click.
Hand on the knob, Rastun stood alongside the doorframe. Geek was across from him, shotgun up. Rastun held his breath, hoping they didn’t miss an alarm, wondering if someone waited on the other side with a gun.
He twisted the knob and pushed the door open. No alarms went off. No bullets flew at them.
Rastun took a quick look inside, then hurried through the door, Aster 7 up. Geek followed. They swept the room. Rastun saw cupboards, a pantry, a sink, a stove and a refrigerator. None of them looked like they had been used in years.
“Clear.”
“Clear,” Geek repeated. “Cap’n, look at this.”
Rastun turned to find a plastic folding table with six folding chairs around it. A half-full garbage bag sat in the corner. He checked inside to find sandwich wrappers, Styrofoam containers, water bottles and soda cans. The trash couldn’t have been here for more than a couple of days. Any longer and rats and other animals would have torn through the bag.
“Looks like they set up a little home away from home,” said Geek.
Rastun looked down the hallway leading to the living room. Clear. He waved for Geek to follow.
The floorboards creaked under Rastun’s feet. He winced, then took a much softer step. No creak. Three more steps and the floorboards creaked again.
He neared the end of the hallway and checked around the corner. He saw a large empty space that had probably been the living room at one time. A staircase was situated along the far end of the room, the top half blocked from view by a wall.
Rastun stepped into the living room. Another of the 150-plus year old floorboards creaked. Again he winced. He prayed that—
Thump.
Rastun’s left fist shot up. He and Geek halted.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Someone was coming down the stairs.
FORTY
Rastun and Geek retreated down the hallway and into the kitchen. They stood on either side of the entryway, backs pressed against the wall.
The footsteps got louder, then thumped on the ground floor. Rastun held his breath, concentrating on the footfalls. They got closer to the hallway.
He ran down his options. He didn’t want to kill anyone, not until he knew for certain what was going on here. Rastun glanced at his Aster 7, but dismissed that idea. Unlike in the movies, tranquilizer darts didn’t work instantly. They needed to find a way to take this person down quickly and quietly.
The footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Rastun waved to Geek, jerked his thumb toward the hallway, then tapped the butt of his dart launcher against his stomach. Geek nodded.
The footsteps got closer. Rastun pressed himself as flat as possible against the wall.
A man came into view. Burly, at least six foot tall with a military style buzzcut. He paused and started to turn toward Geek.
The ex-sergeant rammed the butt of his shotgun into the man’s gut. He doubled over.
Rastun came in behind him. He slid his right arm under the other man’s armpit and across his chest. Rastun yanked back and took him to the ground. Two quick punches to the face put the man out of commission.
Rastun slapped a piece of duct tape over the man’s mouth. Geek used more tape to bind his hands behind his back. Rastun patted him down and found a stubby MP5K submachine gun in a shoulder rig.
“Definitely not standard issue for your average night watchman,” said Geek.
“You got that right.” Rastun continued his pat down and discovered a Browning Hi-Power Mark III pistol, along with extra mags for it and the MP5K. He gave the pistol to Geek and kept the submachine for himself.
“What’d we do with this dipshit?” Geek pointed to the semi-conscious guard.
Rastun looked around the kitchen. “Stick him in the pantry.”
They dumped the guard inside. Rastun wrapped more duct tape around his ankles and shut the door. He looked over at the folding table. If the seating arrangement was any indication, they’d just cut down the opposition to five.
The pair headed into the living room. Rastun scanned left.
“Clear,” he whispered, then heard muffled voices from upstairs. Not from actual people, but from a TV. He took a step toward the staircase when Geek tapped him on the shoulder. He pointed to what looked like the cellar door. Light came from the crack at the bottom.
Rastun went over to the door and put his ear on it. A steady hum came from behind it. The hum of a generator.
He opened the door slowly and checked inside. Wooden stairs led down to the basement. Sturdy-looking ones made of beige wood. Definitely a new addition.
Rastun opened the door all the way, wincing when it creaked. He pushed up his NVGs and took the stairs slowly, MP5K up. Geek followed, closing the door. A wall ran alongside them until they got halfway to the bottom. Rastun stopped and peered around the edge.
Bright fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling. A large refrigerator stood in the near corner. A portly, balding man with a black beard sat at a folding table typing on a laptop. Wires ran along the floor. At the far end of the basement a thin, brown-haired man checked over pumps, tubes and other equipment connected to a large aquarium.
Inside that aquarium was the other Point Pleasant Monster.
FORTY-ONE
Rastun charged down the stairs, Geek on his heels. He pointed the MP5K at the man at the laptop.
“On the floor!” he ordered in a forceful, though not loud, voice. “On the floor, now!”
The bearded man gaped at him, eyes wide with shock and terror.
Rastun marched up to the table and aimed between the man’s eyes. “Get on the fucking floor or you’re dead!”
The bearded man let out a small squeak of fear and practically fell on his stomach.
“Don’t make a sound.” Rastun covered the man’s mouth with duct tape and tied his hands behind his back. He looked over at Geek. The ex-sergeant had the other man secured.
“Watch the door,” Rastun ordered.
“Yes, sir.” Geek hustled across the basement and up the stairs.
Rastun searched the bearded man. He had a wallet, keys, a few coins and a cell phone. No weapons. He checked the man’s wallet. It contained seventy dollars cash, two credit cards and a Virginia driver’s license for one Fred Bell.
He took out his cell phone and snapped a few pictures of the makeshift lab and the monster. He couldn’t help stare at it for several seconds. Seeing it with his own eyes, he found it hard to believe a sea monster swam around a tank in a mansion in the middle of rural Virginia.
Rastun pocketed his phone and rolled Bell over on his back. The man took quick, terrified breaths. His eyes bulged. Rastun jammed the MP5K’s barrel under his chin.
“You call out for help, I kill you. Got it?”
Bell nodded.
Rastun peeled back the tape from Bell’s mouth. “Fred Bell? Is that your real name?”
“N-No.” He shook his head. “It’s… It’s Steven Krueger.”
“And what exactly do you do here, Mister Krueger?”
“P-Paleontologist.”
Rastun looked from Krueger to the monster. He guessed it made sense. Paleontologists studied dinosaurs, and the Point Pleasant Monster sure as hell looked like something from prehistoric times.
“How many people are here?” Rastun demanded.
“Five. S-Six, in
cluding me.”
“I assume your buddy over there is an engineer. What do the other four do?”
“Security.”
Rastun nodded. That left three more guards to watch for.
“Who’s running this operation?”
The veins in Krueger’s neck stuck out. “I-I can’t tell you.”
Rastun pressed the MPK5 harder against Krueger’s chin.
“Please. Please, I can’t. He’ll kill me.”
“I kill you if you don’t talk.”
Krueger’s jaw trembled. “If-If you shoot, they’ll hear you.”
Rastun scowled. He drew back the submachine gun, put it on the floor and drew his tactical knife.
“Good thing knives don’t make any noise.”
Krueger whimpered as Rastun put the blade just behind his right ear.
“You answer my questions or you start losing body parts.”
Krueger shivered. Tears spilled from his eyes.
“Who’s running this operation?”
Krueger’s mouth opened, but he didn’t speak.
“Say good-bye to your ear.”
“No, wait! Wait, please.” Krueger closed his eyes, as though trying to keep from sobbing. “N-Norman Gunderson.”
Rastun drew back his head in surprise. “The Norman Gunderson?”
Krueger nodded.
“Where did you find that monster?” Rastun nodded to the tank.
“Some fishermen caught it in North Carolina.”
“And how did Gunderson get his hands on it?”
“He owns the fishing company.”
“And this mansion?”
“He-He wanted a place to hide the Sea Raptor.”
Sea Raptor? Rastun guessed that was their name for the Point Pleasant Monster.
“Gunderson bought this place through one of his dummy corporations right after we found the monster,” Krueger explained.
Rastun’s jaw tightened. His next question was on the tip of his tongue. Anger, betrayal and hurt threatened to overwhelm him. He fought it off. He had a job to do.