Synbat tgb-3

by Bob Mayer

  "As intelligent creatures who want to survive, what do you think they will do now?"

  "They have to find a new lair. They'll need a source of food for the young and someplace to hide for several days at least."

  "Then the plan for tomorrow should work?" Hossey wanted to know.

  Merrit shook her head. "I really don't know. They know they're being chased, but they certainly can't know the extent of the net around them. As I said before, I think they will try to hide. They already did that once at the cliffs."

  "What about escape?" Riley asked.

  "To where?" Merrit replied.

  "I don't know." Riley thought for a few seconds. "Maybe we ought to go look at the cliff where they were hiding and get an idea of what they were doing. That might help us figure out where they might try to hide next."

  Hossey quickly warmed to that idea. "We'll send you in at first light."

  10:30 P.M.

  The regiment's horses had broken free of their picket line during all the commotion earlier in the evening and disappeared. Now the army people were telling them to vacate the area immediately and go home. Louis spent a fruitless five minutes arguing with some army major. He was damned if he'd leave behind eight valuable horses, six of which weren't even his.

  The major had been sympathetic but unyielding. He gave Louis a vague promise that they'd be notified when the park was reopened after the escapees were captured, and then they could come back in and recover their animals. When Louis had asked when that might be, so he could decide whether to stay in the area or go home, the officer had told him to go home.

  "Fuck it," Louis muttered. He turned to Jeremiah. "Let's get out of here."

  They walked back to the main parking area where their rig was parked. The brothers slid the ramp into their trailer and shut the back doors, making it ready for travel. They got in the cab and Louis started the engine.

  "You ready?" he asked. He received no response at all from his brother. Jeremiah had not uttered a word since the attack. As far as Louis was concerned, the sooner they got home the better. The army was full of shit about the escaped prisoners too. Why the hell would escaped prisoners have been up in the trees? And there had been something weird about those "escapees" from the faint glimpses he'd had of them. They hadn't looked quite normal. Louis didn't envy the regimental commander who had volunteered to fly up to Chicago out of Nashville and notify the families of the four dead men.

  They followed the army guides who waved them out of the camp and onto Lick Creek Road. Army vehicles, machine guns mounted on top and headlights blazing, were parked all along the road. Louis reached the Trace at the Golden Pond Visitor Center, then followed a soldier's lighted baton and turned right onto Route 68.

  At the bridge over Lake Barkley, roadblocks manned by army personnel were set up in center span, blocking any traffic from going out. On the far side of the bridge, the Kentucky State Police had roadblocks facing the other way. Passing the last of the army people, Louis breathed a sigh of relief. He could see helicopters with searchlights flying over the water on either side of the lake. They were damn serious about sealing off the park.

  They rolled through Cadiz, then headed east along 68; at I-24 they would turn north for home. Louis decided to drive straight through and get his brother away from this place as fast as possible.

  Chapter 18

  Wednesday, 8 April

  Land Between the Lakes

  4:12 A.M.

  Three shadowy figures were standing in the tree line, two with something on their backs. Merrit knew she should be feeling fear but for some reason she didn't. Instead she felt almost peaceful. She started walking across the grass toward them, her hands held high, indicating that she didn't have a weapon and meant no harm. The Synbats held their position, their golden eyes unblinking.

  Merrit wanted to talk, but she knew they wouldn't understand the words. How could she explain what was happening anyway? They were the hunted and she was one of the hunters. The Synbats finally moved, slowly turning to head back into the deep darkness of the forest. Merrit halted where she was. They all disappeared, except one, which looked over its shoulder at her. She stared. It was no longer a Synbat but a human face — a man. She recognized the face with a start; it was her father. She started walking toward him, drawn by something beyond her control. As she got closer he changed back into the Synbat and the mouth was wide open, fangs bared. She turned and ran.

  Robin Merrit almost fell off the chair as she awoke, her head jerking up from the desktop where it had been resting. She was damp with perspiration. Her unfocused eyes swept over to the door of the van, half expecting to see her father standing there. As the fuzz faded from her vision, she recognized Colonel Lewis silhouetted against the glow of lights from the communications console.

  "Are you OK?"

  Merrit blinked. "Yes."

  "You cried out. Get some more sleep. I talked with Colonel Hossey. You'll be going in with Riley at first light to look over the lair at the cliff."

  "All right." As Merrit lowered her head, thoughts of the Synbats filled her mind.

  7:27 A.M.

  "Tango Two Seven, are you in place? Over."

  "This is Two Seven. Roger. We've got you covered. Over."

  Riley swung his arm over his head, toward shore. The four Zodiacs pulled on line, an M60 machine gunner in each prow, covering the advance. Three other Zodiacs, with men from another team, stayed offshore to give supporting fire if needed. Two A teams were positioned on top of the cliff to give covering fire and stop any Synbats that might try to escape in that direction, if by some chance they had returned to their lair.

  Overhead, General Williams was flying in his command and control (C & C) Blackhawk helicopter, monitoring the radio net. Riley had a PRC-77 strapped to his back, with the headset tied off to the front of his combat vest on the left shoulder.

  He reached up with his left hand and pressed the transmit button. "We're moving in. Over."

  There were no signs of Synbats as the boats beached and Riley's team secured the area. He had his men clear fifty meters in each direction, making sure that at least the level ground was free of the creatures. The Synbats could be hiding on the rock face, but he had to count on the men in the boats and on top of the cliff to take care of that.

  Satisfied that he had a relatively safe beachhead, Riley pressed the transmit button on the handset. "Clear down here. Bring in Merrit. Over."

  A fifth Zodiac beached. Doctor Merrit stepped off, and Riley and Powers greeted her. The sergeant major pointed. "The dead horses are up here. We removed the woman's body last night. She was found over there."

  They moved to the base of the cliff. Riley pulled out a machete and hacked at the undergrowth, gradually revealing more of the horses.

  He noted that Merrit was either getting used to the sight of death or she was detaching herself from reality as she spoke. "The four Synbats that escaped were very cunning. I'd guess they drove the horses from the campsite where the Werners were killed to this point, then off the cliff face. Then they must have split. You chased two of them to the west, but the other two must have stayed here, hoping they'd escape the search. In fact, the two you chased were probably a diversion to lead you away. I'm sure they kept both sets of pods here." She bent over the horses, the stench apparently not affecting her, and pointed. "Look at these cuts in the rib cage. I think they planned on planting the pods inside the horses' bodies. That would ensure an adequate supply of food when the pods hatched, at least for a while, even if the other two had to leave this location and lead you away if need be."

  The radio squawked. "This is Tango Two Seven. We're going over the edge. Over."

  Riley looked up as ropes were thrown over the lip of the cliff. Men with submachine guns slung over their shoulders backed over the edge and slowly started rappeling their way down, sticking the snout of their guns in every crack and crevice that could possibly hide a Synbat.

  Riley doubted they'd f
ind anything, but it was worth checking out. He returned his attention to the base. "Since we took this site away from them, what do you think they'll do now? Find a similar area and do the same thing?"

  Merrit nodded. "Their primary concern will be a food source for the young. Although they are omnivorous, they will most likely be looking for meat, because that would be the most readily available food source in quantity."

  Riley pulled out his map and spread it on the ground, squatting down and looking it over. "Where would you go if you needed meat, Dan?"

  Powers knelt next to him. "Plenty of deer out here."

  "But they'd have to hunt it. I don't think they can run down a deer, and I'm sure they won't use their weapons for that. It would give away their position." Riley shook his head. "No, I'm talking something easier than that."

  Powers stabbed a thick finger down on the map. "I'd go there."

  5:34 P.M.

  The day passed with aircraft and humvees traversing the park with loudspeakers, advising all people to leave the area. The exodus slowed to a trickle by afternoon. For the past two hours, all the roadblocks had reported negatively when asked if people were still leaving. There had been no sign of the Synbats throughout the day. No sightings, no trails, no contacts — nothing.

  General Williams was fighting his primary battle not with the Synbats but with the news media, who were gathering like locusts around the perimeter, demanding to know what was going on. Two news helicopters from Nashville had tried penetrating the aerial perimeter and been turned back by gunships. The cover story was holding so far, although there had been interviews with some of the Civil War reenactors, which had confused the situation somewhat.

  The thump of helicopter blades echoed across the sky and a flight of OH-6 Special Operations helicopters flew by. The single-rotor helicopters were flown by the Nightstalkers — members of Special Operations Task Force 160. The two-man aircraft had advanced night vision and thermal sights on board and a 7.62mm minigun slung off one skid. For tonight's mission, the aircraft would fly in pairs, searching the area in a grid pattern that the operations officer had spent the entire day carefully laying out. Come dark, they would fire on any two-legged, two-armed image that didn't have fluorescent tape marking it as friendly.

  6:54 P.M.

  Powers scanned the pasture. The bison were stirring. The disturbance started from the far side and spread until the entire herd was alert. As Powers watched, the animals gathered together in a tight defensive perimeter, as far from the fences as they could get, the massive males on the outside, the females and the young on the inside.

  The radio was a low, annoying buzz in his ear as the TOC coordinated the various elements that would begin the aerial search in six minutes. Powers and his team were hidden on a small hill overlooking the buffalo range. They'd been there for six hours, ever since Powers and Riley had convinced Colonel Hossey that the penned-in animals would make a tempting target for the Synbats and that the abandoned barn on the side of the field might make a good hideout for the creatures. Powers felt more worthwhile waiting here than sitting around at the TOC.

  The sun was about down and the twilight made for very difficult viewing. Powers pulled his night vision goggles down over his eyes and turned them on. The range, fenced with barbwire, bordered the Trace on the side opposite Powers and his team.

  "Be ready," Powers whispered. "Something's got the buffalo spooked."

  On either side of him, men turned on their rifle night vision scopes; invisible laser beams licked out across the open field, probing the far tree line.

  Two low-lying silhouettes broke out of the tree line on the far side of the road. Powers could barely make them out through the goggles, but he didn't want to take any chances. He gave the order while the shadowy figures were at the edge of the Trace. With a crack, two rifles sounded in concert.

  Powers limped back down the hill and hopped into his humvee. His driver cranked the engine and they roared around the dirt trail circumventing the range.

  The headlights illuminated the scene as the driver brought the humvee to a halt. Powers leapt from the vehicle, rifle at the ready. There were two bodies. The first dog — a scraggly Airedale — lay dead, shot through the chest. The second — a golden retriever, its coat almost black from dirt — lay panting, blood trickling from the bullet wound in its left foreleg.

  Powers shook his head as he dismounted. The retriever looked up at him with wide eyes and whimpered. "What were you doing, dumb dog?" Powers whispered as he lowered his rifle. The dog's ribs showed and its fur was matted with brambles and dirt. It had obviously been running wild out here for quite a while.

  Powers checked out the wound; the round had gone straight through and missed the bone. He tenderly wrapped a compress around the leg. Tying it in place, he scooped up the dog and placed it in the back of the humvee. So much for their buffalo idea so far. Powers drove back around and returned to his overwatch position. Maybe larger predators would be coming later.

  8:34 P.M.

  "Are you sure they can see this? It seems so small." Merrit looked dubiously at the fluorescent tape sewn onto the top of the watch cap that Riley had handed her.

  Riley nodded. "The sights in those aircraft not only can see at night, but they also give quite a bit of amplification. As long as you wear that, they'll know you're one of the good guys. That tape shows up like a beacon."

  A Blackhawk helicopter settled onto the field. Riley tapped Merrit on the arm. "Let's go."

  Riley shouldered the radio, tucking the end of the antenna down into his shirt, and picked up his rifle. He gestured for his team to move out, then he escorted Merrit onto the aircraft, seating her facing forward next to him. The aircraft lifted in a smooth rush of power.

  Riley grabbed a headset that was hanging from the roof and put it on. "This is Chief Riley. We're all set."

  The pilot answered. "Roger. I'm Captain Patrick. We're going to fly above the gunships, and we're on their freq so you can hear them talk."

  As the chopper gained altitude, Riley's men rigged rappeling ropes on either side of the cargo bay. The ropes were attached to large O-bolts hanging from the ceiling, then were carefully coiled in deployment bags, ready to be used if they had to get out of the aircraft and a landing zone wasn't available. After checking the rigs, Riley turned to his team and gestured as he yelled above the sound of the blades and engines. "All right. Lock and load." Eight magazines were slammed home and the bolts pulled. The rifles were held between the knees, muzzles pointing at the floor. They were ready.

  9:14 P.M.

  "Eagle Center, this is Nighthawk Three One. I've got movement. Location point eight klicks east of checkpoint three seven. Request permission to break pattern to investigate. Over."

  "This is Eagle Center. Permission granted. Over."

  Riley found checkpoint three seven on his map and spoke into the intercom to the pilot. "Let's slide on over there, sir." He felt a surge of adrenaline. First contact of the evening. Maybe the last.

  "Roger," the pilot acknowledged. The Blackhawk swooped to the west, overflying the OH-6 gunship pilot. Riley could see the green and red running lights of the smaller helicopter below.

  "This is Nighthawk Three One. I've got multiple targets moving west. They're under the trees. Over."

  "This is Eagle Center. Roger Three One. Break. Nighthawk One Six, break pattern and support Three One. Three One and One Six switch to tac frequency one-niner-five. All other elements hold in place and move to an altitude of five hundred AGL. We might be going hot here. Over."

  Looking like fireflies, the other gunships drilled up into the night sky to five hundred feet and held position while the two designated gunships paired up. Riley had his pilot switch frequency and listened to the two pilots coordinate as they closed in.

  "Do you have them? Over."

  "Roger. I've got you and them clear. Do you have me? Over."

  "Roger. Got you in sight. I've got a clear field of fire at two hun
dred degrees. Over."

  "I've got a two-seventy. Eagle Center, we've got multiple targets on thermals. Image is broken. They're moving under the trees. Request permission to fire. Over."

  There was a brief pause and then General Williams's voice came over the airways. "This is Eagle Six. Do they look like they might be people? Over."

  "Eagle Six, this is Nighthawk Three One. We can't tell through the thermals. There's too much residual heat coming off the trees to get a clear picture. If we can get them out in the open we could check them with our goggles. Over."

  "Do you have any open area in the immediate vicinity? Over."

  "Roger. About five hundred meters to the south we've got a field. Over."

  "Use your miniguns to move your target to that field and get a positive ID. Over." "Roger."

  A line of tracers roped out of one of the helicopters. Again and again it fired small bursts, herding the target in the desired direction.

  "This is Three One. They're moving south. Over."

  "This is One Six. I'm in position at the tree line. Over."

  Riley talked to his UH-60 pilot. "Move us above One Six; over the field, so we can see the tree line." Riley took a set of night vision goggles and slipped them on. He put another set on Merrit. "Watch that tree line."

  Another burst.

  "This is Three One. They're just about there. Over."

  "There!" Riley grabbed Merrit's arm. "See them?"

  In the green glow of the goggles, shadowy figures were slipping out of the tree line. "What do you see?" Riley asked Merrit as he strained to make them out.

  "I don't know. They're moving fast."

  "This is One Six. Hold guns. Hold guns. I've got targets in the open. I make out six deer. Over."

  Williams's voice was disappointed. "This is Eagle Six. Resume search pattern. Over."

  "Take us back up, sir," Riley spoke into the intercom. The Blackhawk climbed into the sky and they settled down to wait.

  Three more times they moved in as gunships picked out heat images under the trees, and each time the result was negative. As the night chill settled in and the residual heat dissipated, the thermal sights began to function better, identifying targets under the trees without having to move them out into the open. No Synbats — just deer and other animals.