Behemoth (Apex Predator Book 1)

by David Meyer

  “The others …” Caplan coughed as well. “… they’re still out there.”

  “They can go to hell.”

  The rotors picked up even more speed. Tons of gray smoke blew into the chopper. It got in Caplan’s lungs and in his eyes. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Rubbing his face on his shirt and fighting off more coughs, he cast a look at the fire.

  “Whoa,” he whispered in awe.

  The fire was no longer twenty-five yards away or even ten yards away.

  It was here.

  Gigantic flames, tall as skyscrapers and bright as spotlights, licked the edge of the clearing with ravenous desire. The colors, brilliant reds and oranges along with an almost bluish white all against a throbbing, trembling black backdrop, captivated his attention.

  The chopper lurched a few inches off the ground. It swayed in the air like a pendulum before shooting toward the center of the clearing.

  Caplan stumbled. His sweaty hand slipped on the metal bar, but he managed to keep his grip on it. With his other hand, he reached for the cabin door.

  A weighty object plowed into his legs. His feet slipped out from under him and his rear thudded against the carpet. His lower half felt like it had suddenly doubled in size and his grip on the bar began to slip all over again.

  Morgan unbuckled her belt, grabbed for his hand.

  But she was too late.

  Caplan’s fingers slipped off the bar. The chopper lurched as he tumbled feet-first to the ground. He landed awkwardly, twisting his knee, and rolled to a heap. The fire raged all around him, encircling the clearing and burning away at the deep grass.

  Caplan tried to think, but the wildfire completely overloaded his senses. Blinding colors were everywhere he looked. He smelled burning wood and grass. Heard nothing but crackling flames, splintering tree trunks, and those awful roaring noises. Smoke filled his mouth and lungs and the pulsating heat roasted him like he was in an oven.

  Confused and disoriented, he tried to get up. But again, he felt the weighty object. It pinned him down, held him flat to the rapidly scorching earth. Looking up, he saw a hazy form mounted on his chest. He blinked a few times. His eyes cleared.

  And he saw Pearson.

  A heavy fist cracked into his cheek. Caplan’s jaw snapped open and he choked out a hoarse cry. Instantly, smoke and ash streamed down his lungs, leaving him coughing and choking for air.

  He wriggled, trying to throw off the giant man. But a fist to the collarbone stopped him cold. A third punch slammed into his jaw. His whole body shuddered as if his soul had been knocked clear out of him.

  A thick fog settled over Caplan’s brain. His pain and fear melted away. It was kind of nice, actually. Languid and peaceful, like the first few moments after waking up from a deep sleep. Where was he again? Why was he here? Did any of it really matter?

  Julius is killing you, Zach, his brain screamed. Julius! Do you really want to let him get the best of you?

  He shook his head. The fog began to lift and his body groaned in protest.

  Then the pain appeared.

  It roared through him with a vengeance, racking his body and causing him to squirm and writhe on the ground.

  Pearson lost his balance and fell to one side.

  With pain came clarity and in a split-second, Caplan realized the precariousness of his position. Walls of fire surrounded the clearing, blocking off possible exits and sucking oxygen out of his lungs. The helicopter couldn’t be far away. But before he could climb aboard, he needed to deal with Pearson. And not only was Pearson bigger and stronger than him, the man seemed to have lost all concern for self-preservation.

  Caplan rose to his feet. Stumbled to one side. Then to the other. Smoke was everywhere, all around him. It felt like he was standing in a caldera, waiting for a volcano to erupt. Lifting his eyes, he saw the helicopter, cloaked in smoke, hovering a couple of feet off the ground.

  But before he could run toward it, Pearson rolled to his feet directly between Caplan and the chopper. The giant took several deep breaths, inhaling the smoke as if it were oxygen. It seemed to pump him up and he rose to his full height, swaggering like a professional wrestler.

  Looking over Pearson’s shoulder, Caplan caught glimpses of Morgan amidst the smoke. She clutched the metal bar in one hand and held the pistol in her other one. But the chopper swung wildly, back and forth, and she couldn’t get good stability. Even if she could, he wasn’t sure she’d take the shot with all the smoke.

  Caplan looked into Pearson’s eyes. He didn’t bother with bargaining or reasoning. There was no point. Pearson clearly had no interest in boarding the helicopter and escaping the flames. The giant was perfectly willing to die.

  As long as he took Caplan with him.

  Caplan’s thoughts returned to their last altercation. Pearson had sucker-punched him in the clearing and then wailed away at him. Despite the recent beating, Caplan still remembered those earlier punches, still felt them deep in his bones. Pearson was simply too powerful to take on mano a mano.

  Caplan reached for his jaw, gently massaging it. It hurt like hell. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he mumbled, barely swallowing his pain.

  “Not even close.” Pearson slammed his right fist into his left palm. “I’m going to break your face. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

  “You couldn’t break bread without an instruction manual and someone to read it to you.”

  Pearson’s face reddened. “Think you’re smarter than me? Then how come I tricked you into taking that HA-78 shot?”

  “You didn’t trick me. James did. You were just his tool.”

  Pearson’s face grew as red as the flames.

  “And you’re still his tool. Want to know how I can tell?” Caplan grinned, pouring fuel on the verbal fire. “Because he’s long gone and you’re still here.”

  “Not for long. I’m going to kill you and get the hell out of this place.”

  “Correction. I’m leaving in the helicopter. You’re leaving in an urn.”

  Bellowing at the top of his lungs, Pearson rushed forward.

  Caplan raised his fists, adopting a boxer’s stance.

  Still running, Pearson cocked his fist and took a wild swing.

  Time slowed down for Caplan. He saw Pearson’s scarred knuckles and taut muscles. He studied the man’s footing and range of motion.

  Then he ducked.

  Pearson’s swing missed by a country mile. Digging his heels into the soft mud, he fought to shift course.

  Caplan whirled around and gave him a powerful shove.

  The extra momentum, coupled with Pearson’s awkward movements, sent the man reeling to the side. He fell down, taking a whole section of grass blades with him.

  The sound of splintering wood grew deafening. Pines, spruces, and cedars began to sway. Air whooshed and something hot and soft struck Caplan’s head. Peering upward, he saw hundreds of fiery pine cones raining from the sky.

  Caplan didn’t bother to throw more punches. Instead, he raced across the clearing, plowing through burning grass and across patches of baked soil. And all the while, he watched the hovering helicopter, watched Morgan’s outstretched hand.

  The splintering turned into full-blown cracking. Spinning his head from side to side, Caplan saw trees immersed in hot flames. They disintegrated before his eyes and began spitting out pieces of red-hot bark and chunks of blazing wood.

  And then the trees started to fall.

  A thick pine tree, some 200 feet tall, was the first to go. It slammed to the earth, just a few feet behind Caplan. The earth trembled and he lost his balance, falling to the ground.

  Another pine tree, positioned to the southeast, broke free. It crashed into the first tree, sending waves of sparks into the air.

  Caplan leapt to his feet. His eyes shot skyward and ice crept through his boiling blood.

  Everywhere he looked, he saw shattering, falling trees. They collapsed in all directions, but the vast majority looked like they were head
ed for the clearing.

  Caplan ran forward and vaulted over a thick cedar tree. His trail-runners hit dirt on the other side and he kept going, picking up speed and trying not to get hit by the plummeting, burning tree trunks.

  The smoke thickened. He could barely breathe, let alone see. Based purely on instinct, he leapt into the air. A blast of hot air struck his side as a tree narrowly missed crunching into his skull. Thick smoke wafted around him, enclosing him in its nonexistent grip. He shifted his hand, grasping for something, anything.

  His palm struck something … was that? … yes! The landing skid! His fingers closed around it, grasping it in a vice grip. His body jolted and he dangled in mid-air for a moment. Then he reached up and grabbed the skid with his other hand.

  Morgan’s face appeared in the smoke. She grabbed his wrists and braced herself. “I’ve got him,” she yelled to Perkins.

  The helicopter rose a few inches. Caplan kicked his dangling feet, trying to wrap them around the skid. Failing, he rested for a moment, gathering his strength. Then he started to kick them up again.

  Muscular arms slammed into his legs, wrapping around them. Caplan jolted again and he nearly lost his grip on the skid. Looking down, he saw Pearson clutching his thighs, hovering a foot or two above a fallen and fiery pine tree.

  Pearson stared at Caplan. His cheeks were bright red and his lip curled from the effort of maintaining his grip. His eyes flashed with lively insanity.

  Morgan’s fingertips dug into Caplan’s wrists. He tried to shake off the bigger man. When that failed, he attempted to pull himself upward. But Pearson’s size acted as a veritable anchor, slowly dragging Caplan into a sea of fire and falling trees.

  An enormous roar, accompanied by a fierce gust of wind, slammed into the helicopter and Caplan. The chopper shot to the side. Morgan lost her grip on Caplan’s wrist and tumbled into the cabin.

  What the hell was that? Caplan thought.

  For a single moment, he forgot about the fire, about Pearson, about his weakening grip on the landing skid. His head turned to the south and he saw the massive wildfire. But he saw something else, too. A giant shadow of shifting, thumping blackness.

  Trees cracked and splintered, falling to the northwest and northeast. The shadow surged forward and Caplan glimpsed something he’d never expected to see in his entire life. Something that didn’t belong in this world, during this epoch or any other. Something that shocked him to his very core.

  It was a saber-toothed tiger. But not the sort of saber that had roamed the world thousands of years earlier. This saber was different. It was monstrous. No. It was far beyond monstrous.

  It was a behemoth.

  Chapter 60

  Date: June 19, 2016, 8:46 p.m.; Location: Sector 48A, Vallerio Forest, NH

  Since he’d first arrived in the Vallerio, Caplan had seen a dire wolf, a short-faced bear, a giant ground sloth, an American mastodon, an American lion, a North American jaguar, and an American cheetah. He’d felt their wrath and watched as they’d dished it out on people as well as on each other. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the shock of seeing that saber.

  He estimated its height at roughly thirty feet. The darkness and blazing inferno kept him from seeing its full length. However, he could see four tree-like legs and a distant swishing tail. Its eyes were lava-orange and blazed hotter than the surrounding fire. And those curving teeth on either side of its jaw were longer than he was tall.

  Glad I don’t have to feed you, Caplan thought. And don’t even think about feeding on me.

  The saber strode through the wildfire like it was nothing, its enormous paws stomping on shattered and broiling tree trunks. It stopped just outside the tree-strewn clearing and bared its massive teeth for all to see. Then it lifted its head and roared at the sky.

  Vicious shockwaves shot across the clearing, striking the chopper and sending it into a tight circle. Caplan’s right hand slipped off the landing skid. He jolted and his left hand began to slide as well.

  Perkins worked the controls, arresting the chopper’s momentum. Caplan managed to grab the skid again with both hands. But the effort depleted his reserves. He was simply spent and no amount of fear or anger was going to change that.

  Pearson released his grip on Caplan’s thighs. Caplan experienced a momentary wellspring of hope. But it didn’t last long. Less than a second later, he felt Pearson’s right hand grab hold of his belt. The man’s left hand latched onto his shirt.

  And then Pearson began to climb.

  What does he think I am? Caplan thought. A ladder?

  Inch by inch, Pearson climbed up Caplan’s body. And Caplan was helpless to stop him. He had just two moves left. Let Pearson finish the climb and possibly kill his friends. Or release the landing skid and fall to his doom.

  More sweat beaded up on Caplan’s hands, further greasing his grip. Unable to move, he resolved to hang as long as possible or until Pearson was in reach of the skid. Then he’d let go. Because, quite frankly, there was no way in hell he was going to let Pearson hurt anyone else ever again.

  The helicopter rose a few more feet, shifting wildly from side to side as Perkins fought to dodge dozens of falling tree trunks. The saber lowered its head and stared at the chopper with abject curiosity. As Caplan stared into its giant pupils, he couldn’t help but wonder if the saber had any type of self-awareness. Did it know how it had come into this world? Did it care that it had grown to a size nearly double that of a giraffe, the heretofore tallest animal of modern times?

  And he wondered how it saw things. What did it make of the chopper? Did it consider the mechanical marvel and its strange occupants to be some kind of rival? A complex predator, possibly?

  Or did it see them as mere prey?

  Jaws gnashing, the saber bounded into the clearing.

  “Look out,” Mills shouted.

  Perkins didn’t flinch. With precision-like movements, he sent the chopper sailing across the smoke-filled clearing, weaving back and forth to avoid the sudden appearance of crumbling, burning pines and cedars.

  The saber clambered after them, its paws crunching the cylindrical tree trunks, it jaws drawing ever closer to the metallic rotorcraft.

  Morgan regained her footing. Staggering from side to side, she approached the cabin door. But at that exact moment, Perkins swung the chopper into a steep banking maneuver and began to gain height. Morgan toppled back into the cabin and bashed her head against the minibar.

  The behemoth followed after it, its eyes blazing with deadly malice. Its long curving canines cut through the smoke time and time again, missing the flying contraption by mere inches.

  And all the while, Pearson continued to climb. His head pulled level with Caplan’s waist, then stomach. Then chest.

  Think, Caplan’s brain screamed. Use your head!

  Perkins threw the chopper into another steep bank before coaxing the craft a couple more feet into the air. A dazed Morgan started to roll toward the open cabin door. But Mills loosened her buckle and wrapped her arms around Morgan’s waist.

  Caplan glanced to his right. He saw they were above the creature’s eyes but within easy reach of its long paws.

  The saber must’ve realized this as well. Abandoning its previous approach, it reared up on its hind legs and swatted at the helicopter with its front paws. Perkins anticipated the move and pushed the craft northwest. Undeterred, the saber jumped forward a few feet and tried again. Again, Perkins was forced to direct the helicopter to the clearing’s northwest corner.

  “It’s boxing us in,” Perkins yelled.

  “Can you take us through the forest?” Mills called out.

  “Not in one piece.”

  Looking northwest, Caplan saw what Perkins meant. The inferno had ravaged much of the Vallerio’s coniferous trees. But many others stood tall, their limbs ablaze, serving as both impervious obstacles and potentially deadly traps.

  Caplan’s throat hurt from all the smoke he’d inhaled. His fingers, still cur
led around the skid, stung like hell. The stinging traveled up his arms and directly into his brain. He wanted to let go, needed to let go.

  Think, Zach, think, he screamed silently. Use your head!

  Perkins halted the helicopter a few feet from the edge of the clearing. Quickly, he set to work gaining altitude. But Caplan knew it would be too little and far too late.

  The saber jumped close, so close it didn’t bother rising up on its hind legs. Instead, it opened its jaws and lunged upward at the helicopter.

  “Remember me?” Pearson, sporting a wicked grin, grabbed Caplan’s shoulders and pulled himself up to an even level. “Cuz it’s the last thing you’re going to remember.”

  Don’t listen to him, Caplan thought. Just use your head. Use … your … head.

  With the last of his strength, he lunged at Pearson. His forehead smashed into the man’s skull.

  A fleshy, cracking noise rang out. Pearson blinked, clearly startled. His fingers tensed up and he lost his grip.

  Then he fell.

  Pearson shouted, not out of terror but out of sheer anger.

  Caplan watched the man fall, watched as an abyss of blackness, buttressed by giant yellow teeth and an enormous pink tongue, rose up to meet him.

  The saber’s jaws snapped shut with perfect timing, slicing the still-shouting Pearson neatly in half. Part of the man’s body vanished down the creature’s gullet. The other part spun through the smoke-choked air, sputtering blood and guts into the waiting inferno.

  Despite his aching skull, Caplan’s lips curled upward.

  And he smiled.

  Chapter 61

  Date: June 19, 2016, 8:53 p.m.; Location: Prohibited Airspace, Vallerio Forest, NH

  Flames swiftly consumed Pearson’s remains and Caplan shifted his smoke-infested eyes to the fiery clearing. Tree trunks were stacked high and burned brightly. They looked like logs in a super-sized campfire.

  A snarl, ferocious and loud, assaulted his ears. Wincing, he stared at the saber. It was still close by, still staring at him with those lava-orange eyes.