by Chris Fox
“Who is ‘they’?” Jefe asked, voice like a whip. He left the window and dropped the full weight of his gaze on Blair.
“Mohn Corporation,” Blair growled, eyes wild.
“The private army? That Mohn?” Jefe asked, looking back out the window. “Then we are truly dead.”
The whup-whup of the helicopter was directly above now. The walls shook from the wind it kicked up as the dark shape descended into their view through the dirty glass. It spun to face them, like some predator discovering cornered prey. A high-pitched hum began as the guns that had killed Gonzalez began to spin again.
Chapter 21- Nowhere to Run
Time slowed to a near stop, advancing frame by frame as Blair watched the helicopter’s black profile descend into view through the grimy windows. A high-pitched whirring kept terrible counterpoint with the deeper whup-whup of the rotors as the gigantic barrels set under the wings began to spin.
He lingered in eternity. The worst part wouldn’t be his death. As far as he was concerned, he was already dead. He’d died back in the pyramid, and that made every moment after borrowed time. The same wasn’t true of Liz, or her angry companion. Neither had asked to be here, yet both were about to die because of him. Guilt, anger and shame warred within him.
The power is there if you but take it, Ka-Dun, the strange voice said, echoing through his mind for a second time. Prepare yourself. There will be pain.
Blair’s body went rigid. Fire flooded his limbs, liquid agony much like what he’d experienced when he’d touched the statue. What the hell was happening? His back arched, throat constricting to strangle a scream. Muscles spasmed, rippling and tugging under his skin. They writhed like snakes, growing larger and more defined under his horrified gaze. Beneath the agony, part of him realized that what he was seeing wasn’t possible. Yet his eyes bore witness to the terrible miracle.
Pain ceased. His legs were thicker than any athlete’s, his arms and chest like something out of a super-hero movie. There was no time to ask how or why. Answers could come later, assuming he lived through this. Blair wrenched the wrist bound to the bed, and the cuffs’ links exploded, steel fragments burning thin lines in his chest. But he was free.
The high-pitched whirring grew more urgent as time returned to its normal flow. Blair moved. He glided across the room with bestial grace, soaring into Liz and bearing her roughly to the dirt floor. She landed on her side, his body between her and the wooden wall that offered nothing against the horrible roar behind him.
The room exploded. Splinters of wood, flecks of plaster, and broken bottles burst around them. Jefe was caught in the crossfire, arms covering his head as if that might offer some protection from the maelstrom of debris. For a moment it seemed like that scant defense might be enough, but then a streak of fire from the weapon outside caught him in the chest. He was lifted like a rag doll, flung against the back wall with such violent force that he punched through and out of sight.
Blair pulled himself further atop Liz, who thrashed like a wild thing in an attempt to dislodge him. Fire blossomed in his back, ripping him from her and sending him careening through the room. He slammed into the bed’s metal frame, right arm snapping with a violent crack. Behind him Liz screamed and crawled toward the hole left by Jefe’s form. She didn’t make it.
A round punched through her back, driving her into the ground with such force that she slid all the way to the wall. She didn’t rise. Blood covered her back, and the wound was horrible to look upon.
She may yet be saved, the voice thrummed in his head. But you must relinquish control to me. Are you willing, Ka-Dun?
“I’ll do whatever it takes. Save her,” he grunted through clenched teeth. The corona of pain from his wounds ate at the edges of his vision.
First we must heal the injuries you have suffered. Will it so.
Blair had no choice but to trust the voice. It was impossible, of course, but so were a great many things that had happened in the last few days. Something flowed through him, liquid and vibrant like life itself. Touching it was like touching the face of the universe. His shattered forearm began to vibrate. Then an audible crack split the silence left in the wake of the massive gun. His arm twisted into place of its own volition, bone knitting together with incredible speed. His skin rippled around the wound, rapidly covering the bloody carnage. Within moments, it was whole. Even his hair had grown back. He flexed his arm in wonder, awed by what had just happened.
Hurry. That was merely their opening volley. Your foes will come in earnest now. Their weapons cannot kill, but healing will tax you. You can spare neither time nor strength.
“How can I save her?” he asked, rising to a crouch behind the bed’s twisted metal frame. It wouldn’t protect him if the gun started firing again, but at least it hid him from anyone who might be looking in from outside.
Surrender to me. Give in to your rage. I will slay the interlopers and, Mother willing, I will save your she.
“I don’t know what that means,” he barked. There was movement outside the window. The helicopter was beginning to rise out of sight. Were they leaving? Perhaps they had assumed everyone was dead.
They have raised arms against you. Your she lies dying. I will redress these wrongs, if you give me leave.
It was right. Mohn was killing innocent people. His gaze settled on Liz’s limp form, awash in blood and shrapnel. She was already dead. She had to be. They were responsible. They would pay. Pay in blood.
“Whatever it takes. Kill them. Kill them all,” he growled, adrenaline surging through his system. Rage enveloped him in a furious inferno, burning away all other emotion.
It shall be so, Ka-Dun.
The agony returned, but this time Blair welcomed it. His entire body spasmed, back arching as lightning seared every nerve. The change that had begun in his limbs continued, more violently and far more terrifying. His fingers elongated, thickening as they grew. He cried out as sharp claws emerged from his fingertips, rending his flesh as easily as they would their victims’.
Every pore burst open, silver fur forcing its way from his skin. It grew and writhed like a sea of tiny snakes, enshrouding his body. His jaw broke, unhinging as it sprouted thick rows of fangs. His nose popped and cracked as it grew into a muzzle more at home on wolf than man. His chest grew still thicker, muscles undulating as they had before. Bones snapped from sockets as his body rearranged itself. He was taller. Stronger. Faster.
He could hear the men above, chattering into their radios. He could hear their heartbeats, slow and confident. They smelled of sweat but not fear.
They do not yet know that they are prey.
Black nylon ropes dropped into view through the shattered windows. With rifles slung over shoulders, soldiers in midnight body armor descended into view two at a time. They moved with military precision, each with a patch on his or her right shoulder. The patch depicted a large green triangle with a smaller silver one set inside it. Mohn Corp.
Sleep, Ka-Dun. I will bear your will to the interlopers. They will know your terrible vengeance.
Blair relinquished control, falling into darkness.
Chapter 22- Not Just An Animal
The helicopter didn’t so much as buck as both squads rappelled out the sides. Jordan had only worked with Yuri a short time, and the man’s piloting skills continued to impress him. The Russian was tightlipped about his past but seemed awfully comfortable in Vietnam-era American hardware.
Jordan waited for both squads to reach the ground before he stabbed a blue button on the console. The winches set into the cargo bay spun, retracting the nylon ropes the men had used to descend. “Yuri, pull us up to fifty meters.”
The Russian expertly guided the craft skyward, rotor elevating in pitch to match their altitude. As they rose the canopy titled to afford a view of the ramshackle building below. Jordan couldn’t see anything through the now shattered windows, thanks to the cloud of dust from the fifty-caliber rounds they’d filled the building with.
They’d seen two figures enter when they’d first crested the ridge. Neither looked anything like the beast, but Jordan couldn’t take any chances. There could be a contagion at work here, and even if there wasn’t he knew exactly what the Director’s orders would be. Silence anyone who might leak word about the pyramid. Jordan wasn’t sure the man would be wrong to give those orders, given what they’d found. The very idea of werewolves being real had taken a potshot at his reality, but the fact that a woman might have survived for over ten thousand years was even more terrifying.
“Alpha, take up defensive positions in the street. Use the cars for cover. Bravo, get to the rear of the building and watch that cornfield. If it gets in there, we’ll lose it,” he ordered, shifting his attention to the large tablet hastily installed in the center console.
The touch screen lived amidst the dials and buttons in the antiquated aircraft, the old mingling not so seamlessly with new. The weld housing the tablet definitely wasn’t pretty. Not that it mattered. The burnished console around the screen was unfinished, built for function rather than aesthetics. All the old hardware was like that. It came cheap though, or at least cheaper than anything made in the last two decades. The helicopter was one of the few pieces of equipment Mohn had employed that wasn’t state of the art. It seemed oddly out of place for a company that spared no expense. For anything.
The tablet displayed all eight helmet-cams, Alpha on top and Bravo on bottom. The men’s points of view added up to a fairly detailed picture of the situation below. It supplied him with tactical data while keeping him relatively safe. That was paramount, and not just because it meant he got to live. Getting footage to base camp was vital. The troops had to know what they were dealing with.
“Alpha in position,” Williams barked, his men sprinting into cover behind the battered vehicles the villagers in Peru favored. They set up a cross fire on the building’s front, ready to cut down anything that emerged. The new XM8 rifles they used were compact but close enough to M4s that the troops had acclimated quickly. If they’d be enough remained to be seen.
The troops moved with an efficiency any modern military would have envied, because every soldier there had served in one army or another. There were eight men and women from as many countries, each with a different background but a similar set of skills. They were the best he’d ever worked with.
“Bravo in position. I don’t like this, sir. We’re too exposed out here. There’s no hard cover.”
“Noted, Corporal,” Jordan said over the mic jutting from his helmet. He studied the building below. If the creature was inside, it could be biding its time, waiting for them to make a mistake.
“Orders, Commander?” Williams asked after a precise sixty seconds. His troops were wound tightly. They couldn’t hold that focus long.
“Put a gas canister in the building and see what that flushes out. Be ready. This thing moves faster than anything I’ve ever encountered,” Jordan replied, flicking off the mic. How high could that thing jump? “Yuri, take us up another thirty meters.”
The Russian tilted the stick, obligingly carrying them higher.
“Alpha, weapons hot. Make sure the target goes down before it reaches cover,” Williams ordered, his camera bobbing as he sprinted to another car.
“Roger that,” his squad chorused.
“Fire in the hole,” Williams shouted.
Jordan watched Williams’s feed as he lunged from cover long enough to lob a silver canister through the hole where the window used to be. Chalky smoke billowed from all sides of the building, obscuring any view of the interior. It was a calculated risk. They wouldn’t see anything until the creature emerged, but the grenade should, quite literally, smoke it out.
The ceiling exploded outward in a shower of plaster and wood. A terrifyingly familiar figure landed on the southeastern corner of the roof, its silver form shrouded by the smoke pouring from the hole the thing had created. Jordan studied it as the beast took in its surroundings. Its head swiveled from man to man, pausing on each long enough to assess it. This sort of eloquent body language was exactly what he’d expect from a highly trained soldier. It wasn’t at all what one would see from a Hollywood monster.
“It’s on the roof,” Jordan barked into his mic. They weren’t moving fast enough.
“It’s too fast to track,” Williams shot back, voice on the ragged edge of panic.
He was right. The beast had already vacated its perch. It dropped silently to the ground, bounding toward Bravo. Jewel was its first target. She fought to align the barrel of her rifle, but the beast was too swift. It raked her chest with wicked claws that sent the tiny blond woman spinning away in a fountain of her own blood. Her body was still airborne when the beast leapt, twisting over the rest of the squad and landing in the thick rows of corn. They rustled briefly, and then it was gone.
“Oh my God. Oh my God, Jewel is down. It’s in the corn. Watch the corn.” Tarkus called, backing away from his companion’s body as he slowly walked his rifle over the wall of corn.
Jordan knew with cold certainly that the man was about to break, training or no. This was going south. Bigger guns didn’t mean shit, just like he’d told the Director.
Yuri angled the helicopter without needing to be told, drifting over the corn as they scanned for the beast. It was in there somewhere.
“Sit tight,” William’s voice crackled. “Alpha, circle north. Let’s see if we can flank this thing.”
Williams’s group broke cover and sprinted through the wide alley between the clinic and the neighboring house. They emerged near the cornfield, breaking left in a staggered formation. The maneuver was executed with textbook precision and gave them command of the entire western edge. It was exactly the right call.
The creature burst from the corn, closing the distance to Tarkus in three massive bounds. It planted its shoulder against his midsection, tackling the hapless soldier through the building’s rear wall. The corporal’s weapon clattered to the ground as the pair disappeared from view. The smoke had dissipated, but enough haze remained that Jordan couldn’t make out the interior. He reached for the touch screen, tapping Tarkus’s display. It filled the screen, revealing nothing but odd shapes in the darkness. Then a face appeared. It was all wolf, that face, all but the eyes. They glowed with amber malevolence, examining the camera with all-too-human intelligence.
The screen went black as the feed died. Jordan tapped the screen, returning to the entire squad. Not focusing on the black spot where Tarkus’s feed had been was difficult. Jewel’s camera was tilted at a crazy angle, by some chance having landed on her mangled form. He compartmentalized it, focusing on the larger situation. No distractions.
The creature was already moving. It punched a new hole through the clinic, emerging in the alley behind Noelo, the last member of Alpha. The former marine spun and unloaded a burst from his XM8 into the creature’s head. It roared in pain, face a mask of blood. Then it seized the beefy man in both clawed hands, sinking a maw full of fangs into his throat. It ripped loose a huge chunk of meat, wolfing it down before discarding Noelo. The last member of Alpha tumbled to the ground like a cigarette butt, limp and lifeless. The beast blurred back to the corn, vanishing like sleep after the crack of thunder.
“Bravo, be advised Alpha has been eliminated. You’re on your own,” Jordan announced, nodding to Yuri. The Russian eased back on the stick, gaining elevation. No sense in taking chances. “The creature has reentered the cornfield. Get some distance and watch your six. It can cover fifty meters in about two seconds.”
“Roger that. You heard the man. Let’s move, people,” Williams ordered, impressively calm despite the carnage. Ever the professional, that one.
His team fell back, putting seventy-five meters between them and the field where the creature lay waiting. The move would buy them reaction time at the cost of accuracy. They formed a rough triangle, setting up an overlapping field of fire. It was textbook perfect, as always.
&n
bsp; Ninety seconds passed. One twenty. Nothing stirred in that corn except the wind.
“Command, is this Bravo. Any sign of movement?” Williams’s voice crackled over the com. He was starting to fray, and his men were probably in even worse shape.
“Negative,” Jordan replied, scanning as the helicopter slowly circled the field. The corn was still as the dead.
The men stood frozen, each at the edge of action. Ready in the truest sense of the word.
“Request instructions. Commander, should we withdraw?”
“Negative. Hold your position,” Jordan answered, a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek. Where the hell had the creature gone?
The beast came at them sideways, bursting from cover exactly where it had entered. It blurred in a zig-zag pattern, scooping up Tarkus’s XN8 and flipping atop the clinic’s smoky roof. It crouched to minimize its profile and then looked straight at Jordan. The beast brought up the muzzle of its newly acquired weapon, smoothly aiming with one outstretched arm.
The rifle barked a hail of rounds in Jordan’s direction. They punched through the canopy, stitching a line toward his face. Horrible pings echoed through the canopy as the rounds came closer. He held is breath, wincing in preparation for the bullet. It never came. He darted a glance over the now shattered canopy. Holy shit. The beast had withdrawn the clip and appeared to be looking around for more. Jordan wasn’t sticking around long enough for it to find one.
“Get us out of here,” he ordered Yuri, tuning out screams as the helicopter limped toward base camp.
Chapter 23- Wrath
The beast sifted through the Ka-Dun’s memories, plucking relevant details. The strange weapons the warriors wielded were known as guns. The Ka-Dun understood them in a conceptual sense but had never had need of them. He was a scholar, not a warrior. This denied the beast the skill to use them effectively, but they were not complicated. The gun proved remarkably easy to control, as he’d learned when attacking the angry black bird in the sky. The helicopter, his Ka-Dun knew it as.