Hybrid

by Ballan, Greg

  “Another thing to keep in mind, we have another missing persons report filed. A female jogger never made it home a few nights ago. The odds are she's in here somewhere, too. Keep your eyes open, all of you; the last thing we need are injuries. Each man will take one radio and one linear chip. The chip emits a microwave signal that we can track from the computers in this van. Our Command Control Van will know where you are at all times; keep in touch. The search effort will be coordinated from here.” He handed out the equipment to each man.

  “Mr. Knight is the only man here with knowledge of the unmarked woodlands in this area. He gets the thankless job of heading out into that deeper scrub. Mr. Knight, you especially keep in touch. We wouldn't want you to wind up as dinner for a pack of wild dogs or a cougar, or whatever else may be living up there. I expect call-ins from everyone on the mark, each quarter hour,” Nelson ordered.

  The equipment was all dispensed and Erik took the chip and placed it in one of the bullet clip pouches on his gun holster, then fastened the radio to his belt.

  “Everyone, be careful. We've got a job to do, so let's do it,” he concluded.

  Erik was about to head off when the senior Hall operative, Nelson, pulled him aside.

  “Mr. Knight, keep your eyes open. If anyone has a chance at finding anything, odds are it will be you. These radios have a range of about five to eight miles, so you should be able to contact us no matter how deep you get into those woods. Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Erik replied as he turned to enter the parklands with the other men.

  * * * *

  Erik had assisted the youngest of the Hall agents, Henderson, on his search of one of the outer-most trails until he reached the designated area that led to the deepest trail and into the wild areas of the parklands. He could tell that the young man was uncomfortable in these surroundings. Erik told him which trails led back across the lake, and which trails would take him deeper into the forest. The two parted ways and Erik began his walk on the outmost path to the woods.

  His extra senses automatically kicked in. He became aware of wind patterns. Sounds increased in clarity as did his awareness of everything around him. He clearly smelled the various scents of different flowers and plants. He had to stop momentarily and allow his mind a few extra seconds to process the sudden increase in sensory information.

  His vision became far more acute than it normally was, as if somebody had placed magnifying lenses inside his eyes. He could see more detail and focus on objects in the distance and see them clearly. Once his brain had adjusted to the increased stimulus, he continued on his way, his mind analyzing the extended sensory information at incredible speed. Up ahead, he noticed some disturbances in the path.

  Erik walked another fifty yards when he came across a set of footprints. He knelt down and studied the tread pattern of the shoes. He could tell by the exaggerated tread pattern that he was looking at the print of a cross county running shoe of some type. He moved ahead cautiously, spotting more footprints. He could tell, by the general size and shape, that they were most likely female. He reached over to his radio and keyed the transmitter.

  “Knight to base. Over,” Erik called, using his designated call sign.

  “Go, Knight. Over,” the reply came with slight static.

  “I've got footprints on the outer-most white path. Size and shape indicate female. The track was made by some type of cross country shoe. These tracks are no more than a day old. Over.” There were a few seconds of silence before the response came.

  “Noted; proceed with caution. Over.”

  “Gee, now why didn't I think of that?” He shook his head.

  Erik slowly covered more ground, and then suddenly stopped when he observed that the footprints were haphazardly placed all over the trail. He cautiously began to move forward, careful not to disturb any potential evidence, and then followed the set of footprints deeper into the trails.

  His eyes quickly spotted another set of single tracks overlaying some of the others, but going in the opposite direction. He went another fifty yards, when those tracks came to an abrupt halt. Erik knelt down and studied one track in particular. It was half in and half out of a sharp depression in the trail. He looked over and saw that the leaves beyond the track were disturbed. Erik studied the scene for several moments, trying to put the entire thing together in his mind. The tracks told a story, but he wasn't sure what. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

  He noted that the right foot on one set of tracks left a scuffing trail. He also saw other various depressions in the soil. He knelt down and followed the line of the tracks to a large tree off of the trail. He followed that set over to the tree, careful not to disturb any of the tracks with his own.

  “Okay.” Erik sighed. “She was running. She tripped, possibly injuring her right leg. She hobbled over to this tree, possibly crawled; that would explain the weird depressions.”

  Something caught his eye under some fresh leaf fall. He walked over to the object and knew exactly what it was, a running shoe—a running shoe that probably belonged to the missing person.

  “Oh crap!” he whispered under his breath. He reached into the pack he was carrying and pulled out a large Ziploc bag. He placed the open bag over the shoe and scooped it in, along with the few leaves and debris that were around it.

  “Knight to Command. Over.”

  “Command, go ahead. Over.”

  “I've got more tracks, and a single women's running shoe, bagged and tagged. From the pattern of the tracks so far, it looks like our missing jogger had an accident, possibly a fall leading to an ankle fracture. We may want to send more men out here. Over.”

  “Noted; we'll have a few uniforms head up there. We have you locked at grid 7, quadrant 9. Over.”

  “I'm going to look for some more tracks; there's no way in hell she just walked out of here on her own!” Erik exclaimed. “Please, God, let me find her alive,” Erik whispered.

  “We didn't copy that last part. Over,” the radio responded.

  “Just mumbling. Over.” Erik replaced the transmitter. “All right, lady, where the hell did you hobble off to?” Erik muttered. Then he sensed something. His eyes narrowed and his senses locked in combat alert. The detective sampled the air; no unusual scent. He walked slowly back down the path toward the edge of the trail. He spotted a series of broken bushes, disturbed leaves, and upturned dirt on the pathway. He had been focusing so intently on the footprints that he walked right by it without even noticing.

  He knew something was dragged through here, and he got that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Erik noticed more small footprints and some other unusual tracks that he didn't recognize. He knelt down by the strange track, carefully studying the depth and indentations; they were the same age as the footprints, but much larger and deeper.

  “What the hell kind of shoe made these?” he whispered as he examined the print more closely. “This guy's gotta be huge.” Erik now knew that he wouldn't find the missing jogger alive; somebody attacked her, and with all probability it was the same person that had abducted Lisa Reynolds. This probably meant that the Reynolds girl's body was out here somewhere as well. He reached into his pack and pulled out some bright orange marker tape and tied a large, ungainly bow tie knot onto a broken limb. He reached over to his radio and activated the unit.

  “This is Knight. I'm getting a bad feeling. Get those uniforms up here now. I found a drag trail that shouldn't be here, and there are two sets of footprints all around it. I think something very bad happened to ‘Jane Doe’ up here. I've marked the discovery with trail tape. I'm proceeding in, weapons unlocked. Over.” He freed both Wilson Super 45s from their holsters.

  Erik made his way into the woods, every instinct in his body on full alert. It took no real skill to follow this trail; it was easily marked with dug-up leaves, dirt, and broken saplings. The detective's hyper senses were scanning every minute detail as he walked deeper into the unmarked forest. Both Wilson auto pistols reflected
the tree-filtered sunlight off their muted stainless steel barrel slides. He smelled the faint odor of decay. It grew stronger the deeper he went into the woods.

  Erik heard a low growling sound coming from his right side. He pivoted and adopted a defensive combat stance. From out of the brush came the largest cougar he had ever seen. Erik leveled the barrels of both weapons at the cat. The cat sensed the threat and stopped its approach.

  “Nice kitty,” Erik whispered. “Nice kitty with the big fangs and sharp claws,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

  Erik had been in these woods for years, and had never encountered feline predators this close to the main trails before. The larger cats and coyotes usually stayed higher up in the mountain.

  “Don't make me shoot you, cat.”

  Erik could sense the animal's feelings; it felt threatened by his presence. Erik looked directly into the big cat's eyes and didn't blink. He focused his telepathic abilities on the animal, crouching down to the cat's eyelevel and slowly placing one pistol back into his harness.

  “We're not going to fight today. I'm not looking to encroach on your territory. I'm just passing through, big fella.” The detective held his hand straight out and lightly exhaled in the cat's direction.

  The animal quickly caught his scent as the air carried his spoor. The cat sensed no fear, and did not smell any standard prey scent. Without warning, the cat crouched down low—it felt something. At the same instant, a feeling of dread passed through Erik. Somehow, the sun seemed imminently darker. The cougar howled and hissed as it backed away from something unseen. Erik stared hard into the woods in the direction that the cat was staring, but could not see anything. The cat slowly retreated, and then broke into a full run in the opposite direction.

  Erik's body began to tingle and he felt goose bumps run up and down his arms and back. He was being watched. Someone was out there in the darkness. Now that the distraction of the cougar was gone, his heightened abilities could sense it. He turned back to where the cat had looked and knew that the source was there. As he made the realization, the surrounding woodlands became even darker. He saw some movement coming toward him quickly.

  “That's far enough, friend,” Erik shouted loud enough to be heard by the figure. It still advanced. Erik's senses were shrieking. It was the same feeling he had when he was led to the park earlier; his senses all sprang into full combat alert. Bioelectric impulses sent signals to all parts of his body. Erik's involuntary nervous system responded, as trained, to the potential threat. Erik quickly tugged the other pistol from its holster and both Wilson's locked on the intruder, following every movement, adjusting to every action. Every muscle fiber was prepared for action, but relaxed, not tense as most in this situation would be.

  “I said that's far enough!” he warned again.

  The figure was like an animated shadow, all black in appearance. It didn't move so much as it seemed to hover over the ground. Erik momentarily stared at it and admired the graceful, fluid movements it possessed. The creature passed into Erik's red zone. He warned one last time, and was ignored. It was then he saw the thing's blood-red eyes, and spiked tail whipping back and forth.

  Both Super 45s roared to life, spewing hot metal-jacketed slugs at near supersonic speed and illuminating the darkness with the muzzle flare from both gun barrels. Eight bullets impacted against the intruder, causing a dazzling display of sparks as the slugs collided with its hide. The thing cried in pain and surprise. The shriek was something so loud and terrible it sent shivers down Erik's back. Erik stopped firing, but kept his guns aimed directly at the target.

  The thing was bleeding some type of blue ichor. It touched a wound with its hand, and held up the stuff in front of its vacant blood-red eyes. Those eyes looked at Erik with absolute contempt and malice. Erik felt hate and the desire to kill emanating from it.

  “What in God's green earth are you?” Erik whispered, staring at the hideous dark figure.

  As sudden as the creature appeared, it simply vanished, slowly evaporating into the darkness. The sun once again was normal, and the eerie chill was gone from the early fall air. Erik slowly approached its position, guns ready to fire at the slightest hint of danger. The repugnant scent of decaying flesh even stronger, he advanced further and spotted the lacerated body of Carol Carlin, minus the jogging shoe he had in his pack.

  “Good Lord, what the hell happened to you?” he whispered.

  He heard the shouts of several voices in his radio responding to the sound of weapons discharge.

  “Knight to base, I found our Jane Doe number two, deceased. We need a coroner team up here and someone better notify her family.”

  “Knight, this is Patrol Two, closing on your position; we heard gunfire. Over.”

  “Knight to all parties, we've got something out here besides animals. Over,” he began reluctantly, knowing the other people would think he was crazy.

  “Base to Knight, would you care to elaborate? Over.”

  “I wish I could. Something came at me; it was hovering near the body. Just make sure everybody is hot!” he urged. “There's something out here and it is a hostile, I repeat, hostile! Over.”

  “Hey!” a voice came back over the radio. “Did our local ‘Grizzly Adams’ see a Bigfoot in the woods?”

  “Just get up here and help me with this body. And for God sakes, watch your ass!” Erik responded into the radio.

  “Don't wet yourself, local, we're almost there. Patrol Two out,” one of the Halls investigators replied

  * * * *

  Agent Henderson cursed as he looked at the map. He wondered how he had gotten turned around. Henderson decided to cut through the woods, hoping to get to the adjacent path and save time. He had been monitoring the radio and knew that a body was found. He also heard Knight panic over seeing something hostile.

  Amateur. The worst thing you could get out here is a case of poison ivy.

  He waved his hands at the swarms of flies that had been buzzing around his head incessantly since he began his foray into the forest. “Or maybe a billion mosquito bites,” he mumbled, amending his prior thought. He quickly realized that one should not wear cheap aftershave; it drew every blood-sucking insect for miles. To Henderson's misfortune, it also attracted something else.

  The young agent fumbled his way through the thick scrub, sounding like a stampede of buffalo as he tripped and stumbled his way over fallen trees and saplings.

  “Damn woods,” he muttered as he lifted his radio. “Henderson to base. Over.”

  “Base here.”

  “Base, where the hell am I? Give me a direction to the target. Over.” Henderson heard stifled laughter over the static on his radio.

  “Base to Henderson, proceed North at 278 degrees, for 200 yards. That should take you to the next path, follow that path west. Belachek says that you can't miss the orange marker on the trail.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Base to Henderson,” his radio called.

  “Go, Base.”

  “Henderson, we have a girl scout here willing to go out and be your guide. Over.”

  Henderson heard the laughs of the men who were at the Command Control Van. He keyed his radio. “Ha, ha, ha. Why don't you come out here and do this, smart ass.” He took a compass reading and headed in the direction he had been given.

  As Henderson made his way through the woods, he noticed the temperature had noticeably dropped. He looked up at the sky, and the sun seemed to be dimmer than it had been moments before. As he continued on his way, he caught scent of something foul.

  “Oh, God, what the hell died out here?” He spotted some strange blue stains on the ground, and knelt closer to examine the strange fluid. He quickly determined that this was the source of the foul smell. He touched the stained leaves with his finger and brought the substance closer to his face to study.

  “Sulfur base. What is this shit?” he asked aloud.

  He heard a twig snap, then footsteps. Henderson looked up in time to see
the claws rake across his face. The force of the impact knocked him end over end. The agent got up quickly and felt his own warm blood flowing down his face. He looked into the face of something that wasn't human. The fear spread through him like wild fire. He went to draw his gun, but the thing slapped the weapon away with its long tail.

  “What are you?” the agent shrieked in a voice filled with panic.

  Silence was the thing's only response. It attacked again, moving with incredible speed as it jumped upon its intended victim. Henderson fought back with the ferocity of a man fighting for his life. He slammed a right cross into its face only to feel his hand creak as it hit a surface much harder than flesh and bone.

  “Oh my God! You're not human. Get back,” he screamed in panic.

  The creature grabbed the agent by the throat and held him in the air with one hand. Henderson responded by driving his left foot into the creature's midsection. The creature felt the blow, but shrugged it off easily. Henderson grabbed the creature's arm that had his throat to avoid being choked as his neck supported his whole body weight. He tried again, kicking at the thing, but his blows had little effect. He felt the blood supply being cut off from his brain, and it was becoming harder to breath. He saw black specs begin to appear in his vision. He was blacking out, having his life literally squeezed from him.

  * * * *

  It felt the human struggle against its iron grip; it savored every ounce of his sheer terror. The creature squeezed the primate's neck harder and was rewarded with a sickening crack. The man no longer struggled. It hung at the end of its arm with limbs dangling lifelessly.

  It dropped the now bloody corpse and withdrew deeper into the woods. It needed time to finish healing. The man had caused it intense pain. It knew the primate's scent; it would find him, make him fear, and feast on that fear. It would not kill that man—not for a while. These soft, fleshy primates were fun to play with and they scared so easily.