Predator

by Janice Gable Bashman

  “They did this time, but we can’t count on it,” Parker said.

  Hewitt twisted his hands together. “We can’t have them getting set off like that for no reason and killing each other. For this to succeed, they must transform only when on a mission and only when they’re ready. It’s too risky otherwise.”

  “So now what?” Webb asked.

  “Get an incapacitating agent installed right away,” Hewitt said. “Something like knockout gas. Then, if the men lose control again, we can flood the room with it. If they’re unconscious, they won’t be able to hurt each other. Once they’re back in human form, go in and get the body for a proper burial. And then we need to figure out how to keep these soldiers controlled.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Garby Grove, Virginia

  Isabella closed the sliding wall from inside the meeting room in her basement. Candles illuminated the dark space. “Thanks for coming tonight,” Isabella said to the four women seated before her. “Bree Sunderland showed up at my office earlier today.”

  A collective gasp filled the room.

  “What did she want?” Arleta asked.

  “Oddly,” Erin said, “she wanted our help.”

  Isabella cast her eyes around the room and observed the worry etched on the women’s faces. “I already put in a call to my source inside the government. He has no idea what Dr. Sunderland’s up to other than that he’s refused to continue with his experiments. But according to his daughter, he’s continuing to experiment despite knowing the danger. She said it turned the mice into murderers.”

  The women reacted audibly to the news; the room erupted in desperate whispers.

  “Even if her father thinks he figured out how to fix the problem, when the lycanthrope DNA is mixed with that of humans, the world will be in big trouble.”

  “What do you propose we do?” Arleta asked.

  “We’ve watched,” Isabella said. “We’ve waited. And we warned. Now our backs are to the wall. We have no choice but to show them what the Benandanti are made of.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Yang’s Warehouse, Hilwater, Virginia

  Hewitt looked around the lab. All this equipment and all they had were questions with no answers. He felt horrible about having had to inform the men that they would be confined indefinitely until he discovered a way for them to control their transformation. He could still see the shocked look on Taft’s face after he had asked if it would be days, weeks, or months, and Parker had replied, “It could be years.” Even he found that hard to stomach. These men were soldiers. They were trained to be patient. But this was a lot to ask.

  Hewitt sighed heavily and turned to Parker, who stood hunched over a microscope. “There has to be a way to fix this.”

  “I wish I knew how,” Parker said. “There’s something missing, some reason the formula went wrong, but I’m stumped.”

  Webb looked up from his phone. “These men are counting on us. We have to find the solution.”

  A horribly loud thwack made them all jump. It was followed by another and then another. Hewitt rushed to the door. “It sounds like it’s coming from the living quarters, but it’s hard to tell.” He heard it again; this time it was even louder. He stepped back, muscles clenched, heart pounding, eyes fixed down the hall.

  “What’s going on?” Parker asked with his back pressed against a wall.

  Again and again the thwack resounded. The noises got louder. And closer together.

  Then it went quiet.

  For a few very long seconds, Hewitt heard nothing except his own breathing.

  Webb moved next to Hewitt. “Can you see anything?”

  “No. We need a plan and quick.” But before Hewitt could even begin to think of something, a loud boom resounded down the hall followed by lots of clanging. He knew that could only be one thing. “It’s the door,” he said in a surprisingly calm tone. “They broke through it.”

  “But how’s that possible?” Webb said, sounding more astounding than scared. “The door was solid metal and so was the frame. Even the hinge plate had three inch screws holding it in place.”

  Hewitt kept his gaze fixed down the hall. “They must have broken through the wall around it.”

  “Who cares,” Parker said in a shaky voice. “If they’re out, they’ve transformed again. And they’re angry about something.”

  It was then that Hewitt saw two of the men, the lycanthropes, rounding the corner, and heading straight for him. “Hide,” he yelled, knowing it was useless. He slammed the door shut and locked it and moved away from the door.

  Parker dove under a table in the corner. Webb stood in the center of the room watching the door. Hewitt shook his head in disbelief. If only Parker had kept his big mouth shut about how long it could take to fix the men, this wouldn’t be happening.

  But it was.

  And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  The door crashed open, and the lycanthropes burst into the room.

  “Stand down,” Hewitt ordered. “We’ll find a way to fix this. I promise.”

  But the men didn’t listen.

  The one on the right killed Webb almost instantly and then went for Parker.

  The other lycanthrope starred Hewitt in the eyes. All Hewitt could see for that long and terrifying moment was pure rage.

  Then the lycanthrope moved in for the kill.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Sunderland Home, East Milmore, Virginia

  Bree and Liam got out of the car and headed up the lit walk to Bree’s front door. She couldn’t stop thinking about lycanthrope soldiers with huge muscles and a thirst for blood. She slid the key in the lock, turned the knob, and pushed inside the house.

  Just as they reached the kitchen, a figure stepped through the doorway. He was tall and wide and looked like he could bench-press a bus. He reached out his massive arms and clamped Bree and Liam’s shoulders; his beefy fingers dug into Bree’s flesh. There was no escaping him.

  He forced them down the hall, threw open the door to the office, and said “Get in there” as he shoved them both inside.

  “Dad! What’s going on?” A quick glance around told her things were far from alright. A refrigerator-sized man stood off to the side as if guarding Conor. The man grabbed Liam and threw him into a chair next to his dad.

  In one swift move, her dad drew Bree against him, wrapped his arms around her as if that would somehow protect her from the men. “Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this. Him either. They’re just kids. Let them go.”

  “Please,” Conor added. “You don’t need them. We’ll give you whatever you want.”

  Liam sprang up and out of the chair, but the man next to him backhanded him hard across the face and shoved him back down.

  Bree cringed.

  “Don’t move,” the man said with steel in his voice.

  “Do what he says,” Conor said to Liam.

  A red welt rose on Liam’s cheek. “What do you want from us?”

  “Let me make this easy, Dr. Sunderland. Give us the research or you’re all dead, starting with her. And believe me, we know how to hurt the human body in ways you have never imagined.”

  The other guy grabbed Bree by the hair.

  “Please,” her dad said. His shoulders sagged and his voice was thick. “I don’t know how to reverse the process or control it. I stopped working on it when I realized the danger. Once I saw what happened to the mice, I didn’t want to have anything more to do with it. I told General Maberry. Just ask him.”

  “General Maberry has nothing to do with this,” Taft said.

  “Then who sent you?” her dad said.

  The guy holding Bree slipped a knife from the sheath on his belt and held it to her throat. The blade was cold against her skin, but she didn’t dare move, afraid it would slice right through her flesh.

  “Stop,” her dad snapped. “I admit I kept working on it, but I cou
ldn’t figure out how to control the process, so I moved on to something else.”

  Bree felt him stiffen with that last sentence, and she knew he’d lied.

  “You can’t use the formula to create super soldiers. It won’t work. They’ll become murderous.”

  With a scowl on his face that couldn’t hide the shame and sadness in his eyes Taft said, “We know that much.”

  Bree drew in a quick breath as the implication sunk in.

  “Oh my God,” her dad said. “I told him not to use it, that it needed a lot more testing before we could even consider doing something like that. You should have listened—”

  “At first we just got bigger and stronger,” Taft said. “I felt invincible. Then it all went haywire.”

  “Dear God—you’re one of them?”

  Taft nodded. “If we sense a potential threat…well, let’s just say it gets ugly real fast. You don’t want to cross us.”

  “How?” Her dad said with a hint of excitement. “Tell me what happened.”

  “We grew hair. Became savage. Unstoppable. You don’t want to see that first-hand, Dr. Sunderland. Believe me. So hand over your research. All of it.”

  “I…I,” he said. “I didn’t know what giving the lycanthrope gene to humans would do. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. You have to believe me.”

  Taft looked at his partner and then back at her dad. Taft’s voice took on a growl. “We’re done playing nice, Dr. Sunderland. You want your daughter to live? Then get your research. Now.”

  “If you don’t let her go you’re not getting anything.”

  Taft chuckled. “Are you sure about that? Because if you don’t give it to me we’re gonna get angry, and then it’ll be out of our control what happens next. And it won’t be good. That’s a promise. So don’t think you’ve got a say in what goes down here because you don’t. Not if you want to stay alive.”

  “You have two choices,” her dad said. “Let them go and I give you the research, or kill us all. But I guarantee that if you do that, you’ll never find it.”

  Bree drew in a short breath, surprised at her dad’s statement. A minute ago he had said he wouldn’t give them the research unless they let her go. Now this? Would he really let them kill her just to protect his research?

  Taft glared at Bree. “Stand by the door. You too,” he said to Liam. “Make a move before I have what I want and your dad is dead. Hers too. Then I’m coming after both of you.”

  The man withdrew the blade from Bree’s throat and stepped away.

  Her dad pressed his lips to Bree’s ear and quickly whispered, “Follow my lead.”

  Taft scowled and took a step forward. “What’d you say to her?”

  Her dad stepped back and pulled Bree with him. “Take it easy. I’m a father. I just told her I loved her.”

  Bree was torn with indecision. Should she run as fast and as far away as possible? Or should she stay by her dad’s side and hold on for dear life? Liam made the decision for her when he pulled Bree by the arm to the door.

  Slowly, her dad knelt next to the desk. With his thumb, he dug under the edge of the hardwood and popped a panel Bree didn’t know existed. Then he reached inside.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  From out of the hole came a blue cloth. Her dad pinched it tightly between his shaking fingers; his knuckles were bone white. He opened his hand, peeled back the overlapping edges of the cloth, and revealed a flash drive nestled inside. He raised his head slowly like it weighed a ton. At first Bree thought her dad didn’t see her, but then he discretely moved his index finger to the side of his left temple and slowly tapped it three times, signaling her to pay attention.

  Taft turned to Bree. “Get out of here.”

  Once they exited the office and were out of earshot of the men, Bree stopped short and whispered in Liam’s ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Me neither,” Liam said. “I’m not leaving my da with those bastards.”

  “My dad told me to follow his lead. He must have something in mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” Bree inhaled deeply and tried to calm herself; her heart beat like crazy and every muscle in her body screamed at her to run, to flee, to get out of there as fast as possible while she still could, but an invisible rope seemed to hold her there, tied her to her father. She looked at Liam, who stood less than six inches away. He kept a strong face, a fierce determination, as though no one could stop him.

  Bree counted silently to ten and then eased her head back past the door frame. Her dad, Conor, and the men were still in the same positions.

  Everything after that happened so fast. Her dad swung his leg and kicked an unsuspecting Taft in the groin. He yelled “Catch!” and threw the flash drive to Bree; it flew through the air and landed short inside the room. Despite his obvious pain, Taft lunged for her dad, but her dad twisted hard to the left and dove behind his desk just as a shot rang out.

  Bree gasped. The bullet went high and wide, missing her dad and hitting Taft instead. Surprise lit across Taft’s face, and he clutched his arm; blood ran between his fingers and down his sleeve.

  Bree dove for the flash drive, but instead of closing her hand around it, her fingertips propelled the flash drive across the floor and under the desk, right back into her dad’s hand. She could sense Liam as he moved behind her but couldn’t see him. She heard a hollow click and then another hollow click and turned her head. The other bad guy tossed his jammed gun; it spun and slid across the floor and came to a rest next to a chair leg.

  “Get out of here!” her dad yelled from behind the desk. “Now.”

  “Run,” Conor added.

  Bree scrambled to her feet. Taft reached down and yanked her dad off the floor. Pinned him against the wall, hands and arms flailing. “Go!” her dad said.

  Bree stood there, frozen. She couldn’t leave; she had to make another try for that flash drive.

  Then a strange noise emerged from Taft; it was deep and loud and guttural.

  Heart racing, barely able to breathe, Bree couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  He was transforming right in front of her.

  A beast of a man before, Taft grew to nearly twice his previous size. His muscles became so huge they looked like they belonged to an ape on steroids. Elongated face and ears. Long teeth and fangs. Razor-sharp claws pierced the toes of his army boots. Hair sprouted from every inch of his skin and grew eight inches in a matter of seconds. He no longer stood straight; his mass and size forced his upper body slightly forward.

  Bree followed movement across the room. The other guy had transformed too.

  This was the horror her dad had created.

  These were no longer men, nor were they super soldiers. They were pure killing machines. Beasts hungering for blood—lycanthropes with eyes that held only one emotion—rage.

  Liam jumped on the one guy’s back, kicking at the lycanthrope with his heels. Rushing to Liam’s aid, Conor clenched his fist and cocked back his arm, but before he could throw the punch the lycanthrope tossed Liam off his back with ease. Liam landed hard against the office wall. Conor’s blow met the lycanthrope’s stomach with a thud, but the lycanthrope didn’t flinch. It clawed Conor’s gut and threw him against the wall as if he weighed nothing. The impact cut short Conor’s scream. He fell to the floor, right leg splayed at an odd angle, eyes glazed and fixed. Liam dove to his dad’s side and pressed hard on Conor’s stomach to try to staunch the bleeding.

  Taft lifted her dad and dropped him hard. His knees buckled underneath him. As her dad struggled to gain his footing, Bree heard a guttural cry unlike anything she’d ever heard—and the other lycanthrope leapt straight for her dad.

  Bree yelled, “Watch out!”

  Her dad threw the flash drive to Bree. “Go. Get out while you—”

  The lycanthrope hit her dad with such force he flew backwards and smashed into the wal
l. He slid down it like a rag doll before the lycanthrope grabbed him. The beast raised its paw and bared its razor-sharp claws.

  One perfect swipe to the jugular was all it took to shatter Bree’s already broken life.

  Blood gushed from the wound and coated the lycanthrope’s claws.

  Her dad stared at Bree, wide-eyed from shock, neck ripped open, mouth agape, struggling to suck in air.

  Then he dropped lifeless to the floor.

  “Run, Bree. Run,” Liam yelled.

  “Not without you.”

  “Go.”

  The instinct to survive took over. Flash drive in hand, Bree ran for her life.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Bree ran until her muscles burned, and even then she kept running—eyes straight ahead, arms pumping. Every now and then she looked back for Liam but found no sign of him. Flash drive clutched tightly in her hand, her feet pounded sidewalk, gravel, dirt, grass. Each frenzied step, each turn, took her farther from the reality that her dad was dead, her mom was dead, Troy was dead. Only when she realized she had no clue where she was going did she think about the fact that she was all alone in the world.

  She couldn’t go home. Home no longer existed.

  And she couldn’t go to Liam’s. Oh God, she thought. What’s going to happen to him? She turned again. If only she could see Liam’s face and know he was all right.

  She continued to run. She had to keep her dad’s research from those men. He died protecting it, and she wasn’t going to let him down.

  The woods loomed ahead, and Bree glanced behind her but saw no one. If the lycanthropes had chased her, they would have caught up to her by now. She’d seen the speed the mice had displayed.

  Bree pushed through the densely-packed brush. Sticker bushes scratched at her clothes. She plowed on until she could no longer see the lit houses behind her. Then Bree stopped behind a large tree and slid to the ground. Only then did she let herself cry—deep, heaving sobs that wracked her body. Her muscles screamed from the torture, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her heart; it was like someone had ripped it apart and tried to reassemble it without all the pieces.