Matt Archer: Monster Hunter

by Kendra C. Highley

  “Bed,” Mike barked. Then he shut the door to his room, leaving me alone.

  I sat down on the Army-green blanket covering my bed, wondering how I got here.

  Chapter Six

  A fire alarm went off directly above my bunk. At least that’s what it sounded like. The alarm shrieked, reverberating off every hard surface in my room. Considering everything but my mattress and blankets was made of metal, the room buzzed until my brain screamed for mercy.

  “I’m up, I’m up!” I rolled from the bunk just as Mike flipped the lights on. I rubbed my eyes and tried to remember what I was doing in a room that looked like a prison cell. “What time is it?”

  “Quarter of five. You have ten minutes to get dressed and fall out.”

  Mike’s barked orders were much too loud for such an indecent hour. But there he was, already dressed in sweats and looking ready to rumble.

  I shuffled to the foot of my bed. “Yeah, whatever.”

  “The customary answer would be ‘Sir, yes sir.’”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked, even though I suspected he wasn’t.

  This morning, Mike’s eyes had that same hard look I’d seen the night we’d fought the monster. Briefly, I thought about bailing and calling Mom to come rescue me. But I wasn’t a wuss, so I saluted him in my pajamas.

  “You now have nine minutes. And leave the knife here. You won’t need it.” He spun on his heel and clomped out of the room.

  I picked up the clothes laid out for me on the footlocker. Mike had been joking about the camo. There was a gray t-shirt, sweatpants and hoodie, along with a black knit cap. The t-shirt and hoodie had “ARMY” printed across the chest. Even though all the clothes were sized as smalls, they swallowed me. I had to pull the drawstring on the pants nearly a foot so they wouldn’t fall off my butt. I grabbed a pair of gloves and trotted outside, glad that Mike had let me use my own running shoes instead of combat boots.

  I barely made it out the front door to the yard before Mike tossed me a backpack. I caught it on the fly, then tumbled to our little patch of lawn with the bag on top of me. “Geez, Mike, what the heck is in this thing? Titanium bowling balls?”

  He yanked me and the backpack off the ground. “That’s Major to you.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.” Not even here twelve hours yet, and I was ready to cry for my mama. Mike strapped the backpack on me. My legs shook with the added weight.

  “It’s only twenty-five pounds.” He flung his onto his back and tightened the straps. “Mine weighs twice that.”

  “What’s the point? To see what kind of wimp I am?” I tried to keep the growl out of my voice, but failed.

  A faint, amused smile crossed Mike’s face. “No. When you go out on a hunt, you’ll need to carry equipment. If you can’t hike through rough terrain with twenty-five pounds on your back, we might as well go home now.”

  That hurt my pride. Of course I could carry twenty-five pounds to stop monsters from rampaging around my home town. I forced my back to straighten out. “So now what?”

  Another faint smile; approving this time. “We run.”

  Run was an understatement. Mike took off down the road toward the center of the base. Buildings passed in a blur of dark outlines as I pounded asphalt trying to catch him. Every time I got close, he sped up. At one point, we started to overtake a squad of soldiers doing the same thing—jogging along wearing backpacks three times the size of mine. A drill sergeant yelled a song that would get me grounded if I dared repeat it back home. Mike veered right and we left the road.

  “Why don’t we just run with them?” I said, barely able to get enough air to ask.

  “How would we explain a fourteen-year-old, in standard physical fitness uniform, running across base first thing in the morning?” Mike didn’t sound winded. So unfair.

  He turned sharply into some woods on the far side of the base. The trees grew close together and the ground was uneven, thick with roots, fallen leaves and hidden holes, all perfect for getting hung up. I was wheezing before we’d gone a hundred yards. I felt myself slow down and the backpack dug into my shoulders.

  The sun wasn’t up and I could barely see Mike in front of me. I thrashed along, trying to keep up, but my feet couldn’t go any faster. Mike ducked around a clump of brush, out of sight. Intent on catching him, I surged forward only to slip on a loose rock. I twisted my ankle and rolled onto the ground.

  I sprawled out panting, not in the mood to get back up. “Uncle Mike? I need a break, man. I think I sprained my ankle.”

  The only answer was the hoot of an owl.

  “Uncle Mike?”

  Nothing.

  Oh crap, he left me behind! “Mike—I mean, Major—stop! You need to wait!” I pushed myself to my feet and limped ahead. “Major, wait for me!”

  Tears stung my eyes. No more of this “dudes in Special Forces don’t cry” garbage. I was stuck in the woods with a hurt leg and no clue how to get back to base. My breath came in gasps of cold, early morning air and the trees seemed to close in on me, murky shadows hiding who knows what. Every so often, the brush would rustle. I sank back down to the forest floor and hugged my knees to my chest.

  I was lost.

  “Mike, you butthole, you better come back for me!”

  When I heard how small my voice sounded, swallowed up by all those trees, I felt like a dork. Mike would realize I wasn’t behind him soon. In the meantime, how did I get back to base? At Boy Scout camp, I’d learned how to read a compass, and how to get around without one. I just had to stay calm and think. The house we were staying in was next to the road, and we’d turned onto the northbound lane when we started our run. Then Mike had turned slightly to the right when he ran into the words. Okay, good. Even with the twists and turns we’d taken, I knew we’d come into the woods heading northeast…I’d go back southwest and find the road.

  Sitting with my eyes closed, I waited for my heart to slow down. Feeling calmer, I stood up and put a little weight on my injured leg. It didn’t hurt too bad; I could walk. Ready to be on the move, I turned in a circle, getting my bearings. Over the trees, I could see a hint of pink in the night sky.

  “East.”

  I drew a compass star on the ground with a stick, using the sun as my eastern marker, then pointed my body toward the southwest. With more confidence, I picked up the backpack and limped that direction.

  The trees rustled again, followed by a twig snapping. I froze. A rabbit? It was a rabbit, it had to be a rabbit. Then I heard a few soft crunches in the leaves.

  A rabbit wouldn’t make that much noise.

  My breathing got so loud I was sure the animal had heard me. This close to base, I didn’t think it was a bear or, god-forbid, a monster, even if Fort Carson was surrounded by wildlife conservation land. Probably a deer, maybe a stag.

  I crept forward a few paces and didn’t hear anything following me. With a ragged sigh, I started up the trail. A shadow, low to the ground, darted between the trunks of two trees, slipping in front of me.

  Oh, my gosh. Had I really just seen that?

  The shadow shifted through the trees to the right of the path, and a branch shook. Too big to be a raccoon. But just the right size to be a cougar. I halted again and waited, afraid to blink in case the animal could hear my eyelashes rub together. If I got mauled by a cougar, Uncle Mike would have to re-up for an extra tour in Afghanistan so Mom couldn’t kill him.

  When the shadow didn’t move, I took a step, then another. I reached the spot where the shadow had stopped and looked around.

  Nothing. Just my imagination.

  I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, then marched ahead as if I had nothing to fear. Never mind that my pulse was sprinting; I could feel the artery in my neck throb. Could the cougar hear my heart pound?

  I took a few more steps. Another twig snapped, behind me this time.

  Something was watching me; I could feel eyes trained on my back. I stood with my feet cemented to the ground and caught the sound
of a single footstep, just barely crunching the leaves. The shadow in the trees ahead moved.

  I forgot about my ankle and took off running.

  With a mighty screech, a huge mass lurched out of the shadows and tackled me. I squirmed, keeping my hands up, so the cougar couldn’t get my face. Digging my feet into the dirt, I tried to roll the cat off of me. It was too heavy. Terrified, I kicked with all my might, connecting with what felt like a guy’s thigh.

  “Oof.” A deep voice I didn’t recognize. Chuckling, the man said, “Major Tannen, you were right. The kid’s got a lot of fight in him. Quick, too.”

  A pair of big hands pulled me up. The man wore all black, including the same kind of knit cap I had. He pulled it off and the silver in his salt-and-pepper hair gleamed in the dawn light slanting through the trees. Not much older than Mike, but definitely career military; I could tell by his posture. He was at least six-four, maybe six-five, and he had to weigh two-fifty.

  Mike came up behind us. “Told you, sir.”

  “Did I hurt you, son?” The man brushed leaves off my hoodie. “I didn’t mean to knock you down. You moved too fast for me to get a good grip on your arm and I slipped.”

  “Who the heck are you and why were you stalking me through the woods?” I asked, pausing to give Mike a dirty look.

  “Colonel Ryan Black.” The man stuck out a hand. “And you must be my new monster hunter.”

  Chapter Seven

  After my tussle in the woods, Mike and Colonel Black conceded that I needed some breakfast. As we walked down the road toward the little bunk house, I asked about something that had been bugging me.

  “Colonel Black, are you surprised the knife picked a fourteen-year-old?”

  “Well…I’ll be honest. Yes, very,” he said. “But I’ve had a week to get used to the idea. Major Tannen briefed me right after the knife transferred to you.” He gave me a quick look and I could see worry in his eyes. “We’ve got some work ahead of us, getting you trained. It’s not going to be easy—probably painful. Are you up for that?”

  I mulled it over. “Have to be, don’t I? No real choice but to suck it up and learn as much as I can this week.”

  Colonel Black’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad you’re taking it seriously.” He nodded at my leg. “How’s the ankle?”

  “Barely feel it,” I said. “Guess I walked it off while the ‘cougar’ was chasing me.”

  The men laughed as we turned onto the drive near our barracks. The sun had nearly risen, and the little house looked shabbier by daylight. The brick was a dingy ivory color and the screen door had a few holes in it. Tired as I was, though, I doubted a five-star hotel would have looked better.

  Mike let us in. “Grab the knife.”

  Now I got why Mike had insisted on leaving it behind for our run. It wouldn’t have been good if I’d stabbed the colonel in the back during his ambush.

  “Where to next?” I asked.

  “Colonel Black’s office,” Mike said.

  I crossed my arms and made an impatient noise. “Food first.”

  “Matt, you’re going to eat in my office,” Colonel Black said. “We don’t want the whole base to know you’re here until we can concoct some kind of story for it. My team will know, but that’s it for now. They’ll be here at oh-nine-hundred to meet you. Now, let’s go, Private.”

  “Private? Oh, come on…not even a sergeant or something? I killed a monster on my own, sir. That has to earn me three stripes at least.”

  “High expectations there.” Mike pushed me out the door, wearing a wry grin. “I’d guess corporal at best.”

  Colonel Black’s office was closer to the center of the base. It was a good sized room with a large desk, a narrow window that cranked open and a little wooden table with four folding chairs. Not fancy, but comfortable. Once we got settled, he rang for his secretary, who turned out to be a staff sergeant with a buzzed head and a big nose.

  “Kingston, breakfast for three,” the colonel said. Kingston gave the colonel a crisp nod and marched down the hall.

  “See, even your secretary gets to be a sergeant,” I said. He probably hadn’t killed a monster by himself. But, no, I was a private.

  Uncle Mike dropped into a chair at the table. I joined him and asked, “The monster team…are they all part of the 10th Airborne like you?”

  Mike had told me that the 10th Special Forces Group was a tough bunch of Green Berets who liked to jump out of airplanes and do other dangerous—and righteously awesome—things. Behind enemy lines usually.

  He shook his head. “They’re from the covert operation in South America. The general heading up that mission hand-selected a team of Green Berets from the 10th and other units. But since Colonel Black’s our commanding officer, we’re based here.”

  I looked back and forth between Colonel Black and Mike. “And the team knows about me?”

  The colonel busied himself with a stack of papers on his desk. “Not yet.”

  That didn’t sound good. Even if Colonel Black was sort of okay that I was fourteen, I wasn’t so sure everyone else would be.

  Breakfast arrived. Kingston came in carrying a tray loaded down with eggs, bacon, and toast. Starved, I grabbed a plate and attacked the food.

  Mike chuckled as I stuffed my face. “Took my advice about eating like a man to heart, huh?”

  I nodded, too hungry to answer him.

  “Just don’t make yourself sick. We ran hard this morning and you’re going to work again this afternoon. Last thing I need is to be cleaning up puke,” Mike said.

  “I won’t,” I said after gulping down a bite. “Is there any more bacon?”

  Smiling, Colonel Black pushed the platter my way.

  We left Colonel Black’s office just before nine, heading down a long, pale green hall and through a concrete walkway to an adjoining building. The conference room was square, its plain white walls covered with big paper maps that had red and yellow pins stuck in them. The pins marked locations in China; the western edge of Peru, in the Amazonian rainforest; central Australia; and Billings, Montana. A single blue pin had been stuck in Botswana in Africa. I stopped to touch the red pin marking Billings. I had a feeling that one was for me.

  A couple dozen padded, plastic chairs sat in rows facing a screen and a small lectern. Colonel Black took his spot at the front of the room. A few men had already arrived, wearing BDUs—battle dress uniform. Camo…finally. Mike and the colonel had changed into BDUs as well, but I still wore my sweats and felt self-conscious because I hadn’t bothered with a shower after our trek through the woods. I’d turned down my chance to clean up so I could stay in the office to finish off the bacon instead. Maybe that had been a mistake. I’d have a hard enough time winning these guys over without looking like a gym-class reject.

  More soldiers arrived, all of them with “high and tight” haircuts, polished belt buckles and big, black boots. Most were roughly the size of Mike—over six feet and muscular. A few were bigger. The only thing I had in common with these guys was my two-blade buzz cut.

  Right at nine, Mike pulled the door closed and called everyone to order. I glanced around the room, feeling really small in my too-big sweats. Twelve hard faces stared back.

  Mike caught my eye and mouthed, “You’ll be fine.”

  I didn’t have time to wonder what that meant before the meeting got underway.

  Colonel Black moved in front of the podium. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

  “Hooah!” they answered in concert.

  Colonel Black waved me up. I stood next to him with my knees knocking together, wondering how he’d explain who I was.

  “This is Matt Archer, Major Tannen’s nephew. He killed a monster in Montana a week ago.”

  Well, blunt was one way to go.

  All their eyes swiveled back to me. A few of the men smiled a tiny bit, like they didn’t believe it. I flushed under the weight of their stares.

  “Obviously the U.S. is being invaded now. Major Tannen b
rought some pictures of the creature’s body, along with the autopsy records, and we’ll brief everyone on them later. This is an issue though, because we’re spread thin at the moment. Parker’s team is in China, at the request of the Chinese government, dealing with the mutant Pandas. Things have escalated in the Amazon again, and Ramirez’s team went back down there two months ago.” He paused. “We’ve also received unconfirmed reports of lion-like beasts roaming Botswana. Brandt’s team left last Monday to scout out the situation.”

  The soldiers watched Colonel Black with intense concentration. I imagined they all had the same question…what does that have to do with the kid?

  “On top of all this, the Australians have formally requested our assistance. The Dingoes are leaving the deep outback and threatening populated areas, so Parker or Brandt may have to head there next. With most of you, including Major Tannen, shipping out over the next several weeks, we don’t have enough coverage to deal with Montana. But there might be a solution.” The colonel paused. “Major Tannen’s knife settled on Matt. Maybe he could cover the area for us.”

  It got so still, I could hear a Humvee rumble by on the road outside.

  “A kid?” someone asked from the back. “The knife chose a kid?”

  I clenched my jaw and stood up taller, about to bark that I wasn’t a kid, but caught Mike’s eye. He shook his head a fraction, his face dead serious.

  The colonel sighed. “Yes. That’s why I called you in. I need to see if one of you can take it back. Major Tannen tried but the knife wouldn’t leave Matt. I just want to be sure our only option is a fourteen-year-old, because that’s a lot to saddle him with.” He held out a hand. “Matt, knife please.”