Dark Project

by Sean E Thomas

  “Lock and load. Let’s get those bastards.” As a hot flush spread over Ramsey’s face, he turned and dashed through the bushes and down the trail.

  The soldiers were several hundred feet ahead. Though Dean was exhausted and thirsty, he steeled himself, pulled his pistol and jogged. He looked around and into the trees and thought he saw a bear—his worst fear and nightmare. Bears ripped tourists and seasoned Alaskans apart with ease. His gun wouldn’t even stop a small bear. Suddenly, an old joke flashed through his mind: two bears talking to each other, using a hunter’s rib bone for a tooth pick. “I love it when the poor bastards try to play dead,” the bear said. Dean’s legs pumped faster.

  * * * *

  As Sable came around a bend, he saw the red Bronco he’d been following. He dropped into a rapid walk and as he approached the truck, he slowed his pace. Drawing his .44, he studied the forest on each side of the road. Ramsey had overconfidently committed his forces. He hadn’t left anyone to guard his rear flank. A horrendous noise shattered the forest calm and Sable spun to face the sound of what his imagination perceived to be two Tyranesaurus-Rexs locked in mortal combat. “What the hell?” Then he saw the path and began running.

  * * * *

  Bill, now back on the beam, felt pain lance through his leg. Though he felt weak and exhausted, he reached down and pulled Lee up. “You okay?”

  Blood trickled down her face from a wound on her forehead. “Huh?”

  “Concentrate. Hook your legs over the beam and move forward.”

  “Dean—”

  “Don’t worry. We’re almost to the other side.” Bill crawled onto the grass and then helped Lee. As she collapsed beside him, he said, “We have to find cover.”

  He looked out at the bridge. Only moments ago, they had hung by their ropes—slender threads of life.

  “I don’t know if I can make it.”

  “Sure you can.” A few feet away stood a small knoll. Bill wobbled as he stood and helped Lee up. Once they were hidden behind the knoll, he estimated their chances and bandaged their wounds. Defending against superior forces would be a problem, though he controlled the access. He opened the pack and began assembling a bolt action 300 Winchester Magnum. Ramsey’s men had machine guns, M16s, and Uzis. He had a rifle, but he had the edge for the only way to them was across the bridge.

  Bill looked around—wilderness in all directions. He and Lee should be able to walk into the forest and disappear. Yet, each time their enemies seemed steps behind. Bill’s actions had been random, so how could Ramsey have found them so quickly?

  Bill stopped assembling the rifle and massaged his aching leg. Even with the makeshift bandage, the blood oozed out and he felt dizzy. In the distance, he saw four men running toward the bridge. He didn’t want to kill, but this was self-preservation. Taking careful aim, he drew a bead on the lead runner’s head. He held his breath and squeezed the trigger. The rifle slammed into his shoulder and the side of the soldier’s head exploded. Bill quickly drew back the bolt and aimed at the next runner, who scrambled for cover. He fired and another soldier collapsed. The others dove for the trees and brush.

  “Give it up, Kincaid. You may have gotten two of us, but there are still more to come. We’ve got you outnumbered and outgunned,” the stranger yelled.

  “Go to hell,” Bill yelled and fired into the trees where the two men had disappeared.

  “Dean’s no longer running this show. I am.”

  “Go screw yourself.”

  “I’m Colonel Ramsey, of the U.S. Army Gamma Forces,” the soldier shouted. “Your only chance to live is to give up.”

  Bill saw a silhouette moving along the side of the trail, skulking behind the trees. It was Dean.

  Though Dean was out of range, Bill targeted him. Fifteen hundred feet was a long shot. He centered the cross hairs on Dean and then raised the rifle to give sufficient elevation. He fired.

  The figure screamed and dove for the bushes.

  A hit, but how good?

  “Damn you, Kincaid. You’re a dead man,” Dean shouted.

  “I agree,” Colonel Ramsey shouted.

  “Everybody has been telling me that for days and I’m still here.”

  An explosion rocked the ground, showering Bill and Lee with shrapnel, rocks, dirt, and dust. Bill choked on the dust. A grenade! Mortar round?

  “Let’s get out of here.” Bill threw the rifle over his shoulder, pulled Lee up, hunched over, and headed for the dense foliage of the nearby forest. Behind them, several explosions rocked the silence, driving smoke and dust high into the sky. He looked over his shoulder and saw large craters and burning grass where they’d been. As he entered the trees, limping, a tan cloud of dust and smoke shimmered in the sunlight.

  * * * *

  Silence. Dean waited. Kincaid had to be dead. He moved forward slowly. His arm was bloody from a flesh wound. It burned like a hot poker had been placed on his skin. On the far side of the bridge, the smoke had begun to settle. Dean continued toward the bridge, trying to get a better look.

  “Get down, idiot! Kincaid may be still alive!” Ramsey yanked Dean to the ground.

  Dean pulled his gun, stuck it against Ramsey’s chest and pulled the trigger. The force of the shot threw Ramsey backward and the gun fell from Dean’s hand. Before Dean could pull the trigger again, a soldier hit him from behind. Dean, dazed, looked up. Ramsey stood, picked up his gun, then Dean’s, and kicked the general in the ribs.

  “You mother—”

  “Body armor—state of the art.” Ramsey thumped his chest. “If you try anything like it again, I’ll squash you like a bug.”

  “When I get back, you’ll regret—”

  “You forget you’re wanted for the murder of your wife.” Ramsey gestured to the ravine and placed his gun to Dean’s head. He cocked the trigger. “Like theirs, your life’s hanging in the balance.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “You’re not even worth my time.” Ramsey slid his gun back into its holster and handed the corporal Dean’s gun. “I have an appointment to kill someone.”

  Dean struggled to get up and once he did, his legs wobbled. He ran his hands affectionately over the small .22 caliber pistol in his pocket. He’d kill them all—Ramsey, Kincaid, and the girl. He watched Ramsey cover the corporal while he crossed the bridge.

  * * * *

  Bill limped through the dense underbrush. Limbs and twigs tore at his clothes, slowing his progress. Planning was hard because of the searing pain in his leg. He stopped and leaned against a birch tree.

  “It’s going to be all right.” Lee pressed against him.

  “Yeah,” Bill said. He didn’t mean it.

  “How long before they cross the bridge?”

  “Twenty minutes.” A stabbing pain drove into his shoulder. Apparently shrapnel had gone through his pack. As he shifted and panted, he felt something sticky run down his back. There wasn’t time to care for the wound. He drew Lee’s face to his and softly kissed her. He cursed to himself. Why had he let her come with him? Even with his dulled senses, he felt the shroud of death, darkness hovering close by—shivers ran down his spine. He had to move. Hide. Save Lee.

  “High ground,” he croaked. “We have to get to high ground.” He staggered; his legs felt like lead weights. Lee helped support him. He looked over his shoulder. No one followed.

  “Over there.” Lee pointed to a tall ridge crowned in sunlight.

  “Let’s do it.” If he could make it, from there he’d have an advantage, pick them off one by one. How many were left? He couldn’t be sure.

  As Bill climbed the hill, it seemed taller than he’d expected. His legs turned to rubber as he struggled forward, each step seeming impossible. Lee braced his shoulder, panting as well. Nearing the top of the ridge, he fell to his knees. The top, a few feet away, seemed like miles.

  “You can do it.” With Lee’s assistance, Bill pushed himself up. He moved one leg and then the other. At the top, he collapsed and passed out.
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br />   * * * *

  White faced and trembling, Dean made his way across the narrow, swaying beams. He had traversed half the distance and every muscle screamed in pain. A gust of wind threw rust particles in his face, gagging him. Sweat streamed over his features, cutting paths in the dirt. He imagined the horrible picture he presented. Every couple of feet, Dean looked into the gorge. His only blessing was the sweat, blinding him. On the ledge, Ramsey and his soldiers laughed. Dean’s rage drove him; it nurtured him and gave him strength. He’d save McNeal for last; the thought of torturing and raping her kept his mind off the bridge. He felt his penis harden. He wanted to drive it into her. He’d take her again and again, until she begged for death.

  “What’s taking you so long?” Ramsey taunted. “We have an appointment to keep.”

  “I’m coming,” Dean choked through parched lips. He stepped to the ledge and Ramsey pulled him to safety.

  * * * *

  Sable came to a clearing and saw a deep gorge and the mangled remnants of a bridge. On the far side, he saw Dean scrambling away. He held back for a minute, then approached the ravine. He looked over the edge. At the bottom lay the smoking remains of a helicopter. After looking at the bridge, he guessed the reason for the accident. Looking closer, he saw that Ramsey and Dean, in their haste, had left climbing ropes strapped to the beams. Left with but one choice, Sable shuddered and muttered, “Bill, this one’s for the books. You owe me.”

  * * * *

  Confused, Bill opened his eyes and looked around, but his mind wouldn’t focus. Where was he? Then he felt Lee, breathing next to him.

  “You finally woke up,” Lee said half-heartedly. “I’ve been keeping guard.”

  “God.” Bill reached for his throbbing head.

  “Want the rifle back?” Lee hefted the rifle toward him.

  “Ever kill a man?” Bill heard voices in the distance. They had found them again.

  “No, I haven’t.” Lee handed him the rifle and a couple of boxes of ammunition. “But if I need to, I will.”

  Bill rolled onto his back, pulled off his blood-soaked pack, and placed it under the magnum for support. “You might need this.” He handed her the pistol and pulled two clips from his back pocket.

  “Don’t worry, they won’t get us.” Lee’s voice seemed doubtful.

  “Die,” Bill whispered and drew a bead on the lead man. Sweat formed on his brow and his vision seemed fuzzy. They were still too far away to get off any good shots.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” He laid the rifle aside, removed a canteen from his pack and handed it to Lee.

  “Thanks.” Lee took a few gulps and handed it back.

  Bill took a long draw, capped the canteen, and laid it on the ground. “I think they’re close enough.” Try as he might to boost his confidence, he knew they were destined to die here—but he’d go down fighting. Bill unzipped a side pocket of the pack and grabbed a handful of shirikens—death stars and throwing knives. He hefted one. “Last line of defense.”

  “You’re full of surprises,” Lee said.

  “Know how to use these?”

  “Yeah, though I’m not that good.”

  “Well, take some.” Bill concealed the weapons in different locations on his body. Then he rested the rifle in the cup of his hand, positioned the butt to his shoulder, and drew a bead on the second man, laying the crosshairs between the man’s eyes. The leader was never the point. Bill took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle slammed into his shoulder and Ramsey’s head exploded. The others dove for cover and immediately returned fire.

  * * * *

  Only an occasional breeze broke the deadly silence. Dean heard the rapid beating of his heart. As he looked down at his groin, he saw a dark, wet spot and felt warm urine seep through his pants. Disjointed thoughts tumbled through his mind. Kincaid was more dangerous than he had thought. Ramsey was dead. He didn’t know the corporal’s name. He wanted to run but his hatred for Kincaid prevented him from doing so.

  “Well, what do you suggest?” Dean asked.

  “We still have the advantage. After I soften him up, we’ll circle the ridge and come up on his rear flank,” the corporal whispered.

  “Soften him up with what? He’s got us pinned down.”

  “With this,” the corporal said, firing his first grenade.

  The trees seemed to rock as the grenades exploded, one after another, several seconds apart. Dodging from tree to tree, Dean scrambled to Ramsey’s body, picked up the Uzi and hand-held radio from the man’s belt, and dove for cover. A bullet hit a tree inches from his face, spraying chunks of wood. “Damn you, Kincaid!” he shouted.

  Another bullet thudded into the tree, throwing bark, wood, and sap.

  “After I fire a few more rounds, make a run for it and circle the hill.”

  * * * *

  As the explosions shook the ridge, Bill felt pieces of shrapnel drive deep into his side. Exhaustion clouded his vision. “You still with me?”

  “Those damn bastards.” Lee’s voice was barely a whisper, her face colorless.

  “Watch the language.” He looked worriedly at Lee. She bled profusely, having been peppered by shrapnel and debris. Yet, his mind had to stay focused. He bit his lip. He had to kill Dean and the soldier.

  As the soldier ran, Bill followed the movement with the rifle. Pushing a detent pin on the scope, he laid it to one side and continued tracking with the iron sights. He quickly estimated the lead he needed and squeezed the trigger. The soldier fell, but got up limping and dove for cover. Bill fired again and the force of the bullet threw the soldier into the underbrush. Bill moved his rifle back to where Dean had been, but he was gone. Bill scanned the foliage but there was no movement. As the blood oozed out of his wounds, Bill felt his life force slipping away. Still, his life didn’t matter—he had to save Lee. “Are you with me?”

  As he stole another glance at her, a tear slid down his cheek. She was unconscious, but her breathing seemed regular and strong, in spite of her wounds. He returned his attention to the trees.

  A prickling sensation moved down Bill’s back. Someone was near and watching him. He swung the rifle around and moved to a crouching position. A bullet struck the rifle, throwing it from his hand and three bullets followed in rapid succession, driving deep into his chest. Bill slumped forward and knew it was the end. He felt the rush of liquid clog his lungs and he gasped for breath. When he looked up, Dean stood but feet away.

  “Give me the formula or you’re dead!” Dean said.

  “I don’t have the formula.”

  “Liar—”

  “I’m already dead.” Bill moved his hand slowly to his boot. He coughed up blood.

  “Maybe you’ll change your mind if I slowly kill the girl.” Dean fired a rapid burst into Lee’s legs. As Dean turned back to him, Bill palmed a throwing knife and shifted his position.

  “There’s more where that came from. If you don’t tell me, I’ll give the girl more of the same.” Dean laughed.

  “Bastard. The formula was destroyed in the lab explosion.”

  “How do you explain the Indians?” Dean turned to the girl.

  “It was a freak accident—a virus from the explosion,” Bill said.

  “I don’t believe it. Give me the formula.” Dean motioned to Lee with his Uzi. “If you don’t, I’ll kill the girl.”

  Lee moaned and shifted position and Dean turned and fired. In a moment of distraction, the knife flashed from Bill’s hand and buried itself deep in Dean’s heart. Then he heard two rapid shots and Dean’s head mushroomed into fragments. As the gun teetered, death spasms from Dean’s hand fired the Uzi on an empty chamber. The headless body collapsed where it stood much like an ice slab disintegrating as it fell from a glacier.

  Bill didn’t have the strength to stand, so he crawled the remaining distance to Lee.

  Someone stood over him. “Hold on.” Bill recognized the voice—who?

&nb
sp; “It’s me, Sable.”

  “How?”

  “They’re all dead.”

  “I’m dead, save Lee.” Tears fell on Lee as Bill brushed away the dirt from her lips. He could feel darkness surrounding him fast.

  “Damn it, hold on.” Sable’s voice was urgent and Bill felt his friend lay a hand on his shoulder. Then Bill heard the radio on Dean’s hip crackle. “Angel WUN THIS IS Angel TREE, everything okay down there?”

  Sable grabbed the radio and hit the button, coughing in a raspy voice. “Angel TREE THIS IS WUN, NEGATIVE. Ramsey’s been hit, TOO’s a goner, Dean’s dead. Need a chopper for medevac, OVER.”

  “WUN THIS IS TREE, WILCO. Back shortly.”

  The sound of Sable talking on the radio faded from Bill’s ears and he felt cold creep over his body and his strength lapsed. With his last breath, he kissed Lee’s lips. As he slipped into total blackness, he felt thousands of warming sensations, like tiny needles cutting into his body.

  Epilogue

  An unending blanket of gray clouds dampened the sky, giving the promise of an early snow. Everything seemed dismal as Sable paced back and forth nervously. Where were his friends? The rendezvous site, a small campground, was crowded on three sides by birch, alder and spruce. A long glassy lake, reflecting a nearby mountain range and the darkened sky, lay to the west. Cold and unyielding August breezes from the lake caressed his arms, giving rise to chills. Occasionally, he had to flap his arms against himself and stamp his feet to generate some heat against the cold. It wasn’t unlike his friends to be an hour late.

  Sable smiled at Amy, who had shown more sense than he by remaining in their warm Taurus. The blue of their car seemed to enhance the cold. “They should’ve been here by now.”

  “Stop fidgeting. They’ll get here when they get here.”

  “I guess I’m excited about unveiling the big surprise.”

  “What surprise?” Amy asked questioningly as she stretched back in the passenger seat.

  “Can’t tell you. It’d spoil it.”

  “They could be late for a number of reasons. For example, they may have had a flat.”

  “Bill’s never late. In fact, he’s always ten to fifteen minutes early for every appointment.”