“To a safe place until I can take out the Creeper.”
The old man shook his head sadly. “There is no safe place. Thomas will not be stopped. We made him that way.”
“Oh, there’s one. Remember Duneden.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Must I? That place was a dump.”
“There’s magic in Duneden. Powerful magic that will defeat Thomas.”
He laughed. “Children’s stories. Those so-called Duneden witches are all smoke and mirrors. We kept them under control while the experiments were going on. They complained and threatened us, but we were the ones with the magic. They could do nothing against us,” he said proudly.
“Times have changed, Hefe, old boy. And if I know your Thomas, he’ll be right behind us.”
“Then I am a dead man.” He stared straight ahead and clamped his lips together, signifying the end to their conversation.
Chapter 45
When Neo regained consciousness, he gawked in revulsion at the rows of glass cages lining the walls of the vast white room. He blinked and rubbed his eyes to be certain that he wasn’t dreaming, but the shocking images remained.
After checking that the passage door was securely locked, Neo shambled slowly through the center of the antiseptic area, leaving as much space as he could between him and the glass cages. Every muscle screamed painfully as he moved, but he didn’t notice much in his dazed condition. His eyes were glued to the monstrosities inside each of the large glass enclosures.
Every cage was constructed of heavy glass with round ventilation holes cut into the ceiling. The glass doors had chromium hinges and a locking mechanism with a numerical keypad. Food and water troughs were bolted to the floor below a power-driven trap door and spigot. The food in the troughs looked to be dog kibble.
A blob-like beast in the first cage on his right followed Neo’s movements with three protruding globes. It simply lay on the floor at the rear of its cage, a thick puddle of ooze about eight feet in diameter. A single human arm and several tentacle-like appendages projected from the pinkish, boneless organism. As far as Neo could tell, it had no way of propelling itself.
The next cage held an aggressive lizard creature that thrust itself against the glass door. Its brief arms were tipped with curved claws that scratched angrily at Neo. Thick green and brown scales armored its body, which stood on two human legs.
Neo flipped it the bird. “Scratch glass, butthead!” he shouted, spittle flying through the corners of his parched lips. “It’s like a damn freak show in here!”
Each cage contained similar horrors. There was a mermaid with a fish tail instead of legs, a human torso with breasts, and a lizard head and face. Another’s human face pleaded for release atop a lizard’s body.
“Help us,” a small voice sounded in Neo’s head. Like the lake humanoids, the words popped into his head, bypassing his ears completely. He rapidly surveyed the room for the source and noticed that the blob-like thing was now pressing against the door. “It’s me. Open the door and free me. I can’t live like this. I’ll help you escape,” it begged telepathically.
Neo asked, “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Open the door to the left at the end of the room.”
Neo staggered to the door, his quads and hamstrings near knotting. Beyond the door was a closet containing, among other supplies, several sets of surgical scrubs. He found the largest size and pulled them on. The top was snug and the bottoms looked more like Capri pants on his long legs, but he had regained a small measure of human dignity, and in this carnival of freaks, it was vital to his sanity.
Neo looked at the keypad outside the blob’s cage. “So how do I get you out?”
“The combination is 8 - 3 - 8 - 9,” it replied.
“How do you know?”
“Our keepers think we’re ugly and stupid. They’re wrong.”
The humanoid brutes thrashed frenetically and hammered the doors. Blue veins rose and fell excitedly inside the pink thing in front of Neo. He managed a smile. The need for freedom was great in all creatures.
Neo punched in the combination and the substantial lock clicked and whirred, and the locking bolt slid away. He pulled the weighty door open.
“How do we get out of here?” Neo asked aloud, anxious to leave this nightmare behind.
“Through the door at the end of the room.”
Neo turned and headed for his own freedom. The thumping escalated around him. The others wanted out, too, but Neo wasn’t buying into the whole sympathy thing. Safety first. At least for now.
The enormous lizard with the human head was the most frantic. Its mouth appeared to be screaming the word “no” over and over. Neo stopped and studied it. Yes, the word formed by its lips was “no!” Its eyes rolled back toward the open cage door as it repeated that single word. By its expression, “no” appeared to be a warning. Could it be, or was his weakened mind imagining the warning? Neo hesitated, and then slowly rotated his gaze.
The pink blob was in the process of reshaping itself into a grotesque form. Something unearthly. And it grew taller as Neo watched, until it reached ten feet. Its new height was supported by five thin, tree-limb legs with hairy tripod claws splayed on the floor for balance. What looked to be a mouth gaped where its chest should have been, and rows of daggers and a wide purple tongue sprouted inside it as he watched. Its eyes had grown to basketballs, and the formerly scrawny tentacles were squid-like with barbed hooks that whipped back and forth in front of it in a menacing manner. But worst of all, it stunk worse than a hundred open septic tanks! His eyes began watering from the stench.
“Shiiiiit!” he yelled, as he shuffled clumsily to the escape door.
The door flew open on the first tug, and Neo slammed and locked it behind him. He leaned his back against the door and tried to slow his panicked breathing. If he got out of this predicament, he swore off helping others. No more Mister Nice Guy. He’d spend the rest of his days being a heartless jerk.
God, how could he have been so gullible and let that thing out?
He felt a sudden tickle on the inside of his feet, and he glanced down. A tentacle snaked its way beneath the door.
Neo sprung away, located another light switch, and examined his new location in this underground maze. It was a well-equipped O.R., complete with immense operating tables, overhead light banks, and tables covered with trays of wrapped, sterilized operating instruments. He tore open a package and hastily searched for a scalpel.
“Damn!” he shouted and yanked his hand back. Blood leaked from a small cut in his thumb. He hadn’t located the scalpel; it had located him. After sucking the blood away, he grabbed the instrument and sliced off the probing tip end of tentacle. Immediately, a mind-shattering screech flooded his head, and he stumbled backward into one of the stainless steel tables.
Wisps of smoke rose from the severed tentacle, and the stench worsened. Neo’s stomach flip-flopped, and then emptied. When he glanced at the severed appendage through watery eyes, it was just a steaming pile of ash, but another was climbing the door in search of the handle. He didn’t have much time before the traitorous creature let itself in.
Neo discovered three other doors in the O.R.: one concealed a bathroom, another a meeting room, and the third was locked from the outside. He didn’t have the strength, tools, or time to jimmy the lock. The blob was breathing down his throat. Once again, since his arrival in Duneden, his life was in jeopardy.
Four tentacle tips crept beneath the door and curled tightly around the bottom. The screeching subsided. Neo hurriedly scanned the area for a larger weapon, and his gaze fell upon a dozen brass rods in a corner beside what looked to be a substantial circuit breaker box with thick cables above and below it. Quickly, Neo yanked the breaker door open and found a series of blue batteries plugged into the heavy-duty grounded sockets. He tugged the three electric feeder cables below the box free. They snapped and popped at the detached end. Neo gathered a few of the eight-foot rods with his free h
and and waited.
He didn’t have long to wait.
The tentacles peeled up the door bottom like foil sealing a peanut can. The metal creaked, popped, and surrendered with the metallic crunch of a car collision. The creature filled the jagged entrance, but didn’t resemble anything like it had moments ago. It had altered its appearance to a three-headed dragon with blue scales. It towered above Neo on two sinewy legs. A pair of powerful claws ripped the pink tentacles away as the three heads turned toward their adversary.
Neo’s brows rose. He recalled a movie he saw as a kid where the ancient protagonists were fighting to save their land from a treacherous, blue, three-headed dragon identical to this one. The movie dragon had given him nightmares for years afterward. Damn! The blob could not only communicate mentally, but was capable of invading his mind to dig up what frightened him.
Neo’s plan suddenly seemed inadequate. The dragon wasn’t about to be defeated with some brass rods and a little juice. It required an army!
The floor trembled as the dragon moved closer, saliva trickling from its three mouths. Its clawed forearms were poised for a strike. Neo thrust the rod into the dragon’s chest and touched the electric wires to the brass. The dragon roared, but the charge only aggravated it. It slapped the rod across the room and continued its advance toward Neo. Turning, Neo removed another rod from the charger and tried again. Dear God, there had to be a way to stop this shape shifter, but how?
Suddenly, Neo’s fatigued mind had an epiphany. Closing his eyes tightly, he concentrated on a time earlier in his childhood, pre-dragon. A time when he was deathly afraid of the neighbor’s Taco Bell dog, a vicious Chihuahua. He pictured the little brute snarling and biting him, worrying his ankle until his white sock bled red. He played the scene over and over in his mind, reliving that horrifying, four-year-old moment.
The dragon crept closer, its foul breath flopping Neo’s stomach again, but he held fast to the thought, swallowing away the bile rising in his throat. Any second now, he expected to be devoured, but he remained focused on that Chihuahua. His body tensed for the dragon’s strike, but it never came.
The dragon’s malodorous breath receded, and Neo braved a peek with one eye. The three dragon heads rapidly dissolved into the blue, scaly body, which reformed and re-colored itself to a fawn Chihuahua. The little bastard charged Neo’s ankle, but Neo stopped it short with two powerful jolts from the prods. The “dog” leaped into the air, landed with a thud, and lay still. It was either dead or very unconscious.
Wasting no time in determining the creature’s fate, Neo closely inspected the exit door and identified another powered locking device. He affixed three brass rods to the lock and poked each of them with a detached electric cable. Blue bolts arced to the device. It took six shocks to short circuit the mechanism and release the latch. The door swung open noiselessly.
Neo located the devices that required the blue batteries. They were long cattle prods. He connected the batteries to two of the prods, stepped warily through the door with the charged prods leading the way, and checked the immediate area for more creatures. There were none. Instead, there was a steep flight of crudely chiseled steps that led upward into the blackness. He closed the door behind him, and the latch locked. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, he ascended the steps. He never wanted to see another mutant humanoid as long as he lived. The past couple of days had made him a new man. He was now a walkin’, talkin’ people person. Hell, he might even learn to appreciate Nick Bellamy one day.
He smiled wryly.
Maybe.
It was a long shot.
Chapter 46
The moonlit palms and flowering oleanders sped by the racing Jeep Liberty along Interstate 95 South. Although he was right on schedule, Nick felt evil bearing down on them and kept the pedal to the metal. Perhaps Hefe Bustillo was right when he predicted himself a dead man. Of course, everybody died sometime, so the drug dealer wasn’t really going out on a limb with his forecast. Nick didn’t really care when he went, just as long as it was after he’d put the Creeper out of business.
Nick turned on the radio to soothe his burgeoning apprehension. The radio disc jockey was jabbering on about an incredible sight in Boca Raton. Nick was about to change the station when he heard the name Chavez. He froze.
And to repeat for those of you just joining us, there was an incredible news story in Boca tonight when the FBI and DEA raided the home of Carlos Chavez, long suspected Colombian drug dealer. The feds arrested fifteen people, including Mr. Chavez.
Television crews were at the scene and taped him being helped into a cliché black sedan. Several reporters pressed closer to ask questions, but as they reached the car, the elusive Mister Chavez was gone, ladies and gentleman. Poof! Vanished into thin air!
Can you believe that! The feds have taken a “no comment” media stance, but not the folks at this fine station. Nope. We’re going with the theory that aliens abducted Carlos Chavez. Yes, you can quote me on that! Abducted by aliens!
It’s also my own humble opinion that Mister Disappearing Act Chavez had been supplying these aliens with illegal substances. Yep, you heard it first right here! These aliens were flying higher than usual thanks to the best drugs in the universe. Yes, that’s what I said, folks. The best in the universe!
Nick switched off the radio and observed his passenger. Hefe was ghostly white after hearing the Chavez story radio report. Maybe no one at the Boca scene had any idea what happened to Chavez, but Nick and Bustillo did.
Using his satellite phone, Nick telephoned FBI dispatch where they routed his call to the FBI supervisor at the Chavez estate.
After identifying himself, Nick said, “Check the house again, Dodson. Chances are that Chavez never left it.”
“Right, Bellamy,” Dodson replied sarcastically. “And just who did we put in one of our cars?”
“An assassin.”
“Yeah, right.”
“He’s been the focus of my investigation for years. Now listen, Dodson, and listen good. If that was my assassin you put in one of your cars, then you’ll find Chavez in his house with his throat torn out. Check it and see.”
“Yeah, why not. Hey, by the way, there’s an agency all points out on you,” Dodson warned.
“For what?”
“Suspicion of murder. The big cheese put the rat in charge of hunting you down.”
“The rat being Withers?”
“That’s what he says. Of course, nobody can verify that now.”
“Why?”
“Have you been at the space station the past couple days?”
“Undercover.”
“And under-informed. Anderson bit the dust in his own office yesterday.”
“What!”
“Hey, wait a minute. What did you say about Chavez having his throat torn out?”
“That’s my assassin’s M.O.”
“Jesus! That’s what happened to Anderson, too.”
Nick terminated the call. Something big was going down, no doubt, but why kill a highly visible guy like Anderson? Didn’t the Creeper realize that there would be a thorough, no-expenses barred murder investigation? It was even possible that the rest of the agency would join the manhunt for the Creeper and pass information along to every high-level security organization in the world. The Creeper risked sacrificing his anonymity for what?
Nick held yet another odd-fitting part to the Creeper-Danforth puzzle that only hampered his efforts to piece together the final picture. He slammed the heal of his hand on the steering wheel. Why was he being so dense? The solution had to be staring him in the face. Why couldn’t he see it?
All of a sudden, Bustillo started kicking and groaning. The special agent stiffened, hoping his sole Mortal Eclipse witness wasn’t having a heart attack. Nick grabbed for his captive’s hand, and after a tense moment, finally located it at the drug dealer’s own throat. Was he trying to kill himself?
Nick chanced a glance at Bustillo despite the bumper-to-bumper
, eighty mile-an- hour traffic. There was a sharp intake of breath as he spotted four hands encircling Bustillo’s neck. Nick adjusted the rear view mirror and saw a young oriental woman seated behind the drug dealer, her face strained from her physical exertion.
He freed a hand from the steering wheel and clawed at the woman’s left hand, but she refused to surrender her crushing grip to Nick. The speeding SUV bounced and bobbed as its right wheels chattered on the narrow shoulder, careening close to the guardrail. Horns blared and tires squealed as he swerved back into traffic. Again, he attempted to break the woman’s tenacious grip, but with no success.
The Jeep drifted into the adjacent lane and a cacophony of horns filled the night. His right hand flew back to the steering wheel, and he quickly realigned his course in the proper lane.
Bustillo’s struggles grew weaker. The kick in his legs was reduced to an occasional twitch. Nick gritted his teeth. There was only one solution.
Flashing blue and red lights and a wailing siren trailed the Jeep as Nick yanked his M9 from its holster and emptied the magazine into the woman’s head. The rear side window shattered, and the whistling roar of the wind was deafening. She and her hands fell back as Bustillo slumped forward. Blood trickled from several deep gouges in his throat.
Nick spied an exit ramp, cut off a lifted pick-up truck, and stomped the brake pedal. The Jeep skidded to a stop along the ramp. The flashing lights and siren followed and parked behind Nick.
As a Florida State Patrolman rushed toward the Jeep, Nick snapped in a fresh M9 magazine and stuffed the weapon under his leg where it could easily be retrieved. He then wrapped his handkerchief around the old man’s bleeding throat.
The patrolman knocked on the window, and Nick lowered it.
“Problem, officer?”
“Reckless driving, among others,” the officer said gruffly. His stern, whiskered face couldn’t conceal his pleasure at making a multi-violation bust. “Show me your license and registration.”
Mortal Eclipse Page 25