Saved by a Bear (Legends of Black Salmon Falls Book 2)

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Saved by a Bear (Legends of Black Salmon Falls Book 2) Page 5

by Lauren Lively


  Everything about the place was all very precise, very organized, and immediately, my alarm bells went off – this was military. It had to be.

  “Major McCoy,” came a voice. “Good to see you. And glad to see you come bearing gifts.”

  “Of course,” McCoy responded. “When have you known me to come empty handed?”

  Two men stood behind the man who'd just walked up to us – all clad in those same black fatigues. He was tall, but not particularly imposing. He was thin, but in shape. He had a head of gray hair, trimmed smartly and close to the scalp. If I had to guess, I'd say he was a Marine. Or – judging by what I was seeing, was perhaps, still a Marine.

  “We have a newcomer, I see,” the man said, staring straight at me.

  McCoy nodded. “This is Olivia,” he said. “Olivia, this is John.”

  I shouldered my weapon and stepped forward, extending my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  He shook my hand with a surprisingly firm grip, looking me up and down as he did so. I could tell that he was taking my measure, trying to look into me, pry the secrets out of me. After a moment, he nodded and stepped back.

  “Nice to meet you, Olivia,” he said. “If McCoy here has you on his team, then you must be the cream of the crop. Glad to have you on our side.”

  “Glad to be on your side, sir.”

  Not that I really knew what the sides in this particular silent war even were. But it was clear that by the presence of this military – or maybe, paramilitary – unit, not to mention all of the hardware I was seeing, somebody thought there was a war going on.

  My question though, was that based on what I was seeing, this was a high dollar operation. This type of hardware and personnel didn't come cheap. So, who was bankrolling it all? Was this some shadowy, overthrow the government type of group? Was this an outfit being bankrolled by the government?

  And most puzzling to me – how did the shifters fit into all of this?

  “I'm sure you all had a long drive,” the man named John said. “Come, let's have a few drinks.”

  He nodded to the two men behind him and they stepped forward, taking the prisoner away. I watched them as they headed toward the wall next to the banks of computers. One of the men swiped something across a keypad I hadn't seen and a moment later, doors opened, revealing an elevator. Which meant there was a level beneath this one – at least one level. Not knowing the lay of the land, I had no idea how many levels there actually were beneath our feet.

  But that all added up to this being a government-run military group. At least, that's what my instincts were screaming at me. And in all my time in both the military and as a journalist, my instincts had never led me astray. I'd learned to listen to them. Trust them. And at that moment, they were telling me there was a lot more going on than met the eye.

  “You look curious.”

  I turned quickly, my heart jumping into my throat as I found John standing in front of me, his eyes narrowing as he took me in.

  “I am,” I said quickly, trying to cover my fear. “Also, impressed. This is an impressive outpost, sir.”

  He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Also, a very efficient and necessary one,” he said. “There are far greater threats to our nation than terrorists, I'm afraid.”

  “Such as?”

  He looked at me for a long moment, as if having some sort of internal debate with himself. Maybe he was trying to decide if I could be trusted. Maybe he was trying to determine how much – if anything – to tell me. He gave me a small nod as if he'd come to a decision in his own mind.

  “McCoy, why don't you take your men down to the cantina,” he said. “Grab some food and drinks. Let me give Olivia here the nickel tour.”

  “Works for me,” McCoy said. “Let's go eat, boys.”

  I watched them walk off and had a chill that was as overwhelming as it was ominous wash over me. There was something about John that I didn't like. Didn't trust. He gave off a vibe that just felt – wrong, somehow. It was like I was standing in the presence of evil or something – and I didn't even believe in the traditional notions of good and evil.

  I suppose the best way I could describe it in my own head was that John – if that really was his name – seemed like the kind of guy who would be perfectly comfortable ordering the wholesale slaughter of people if it suited his agenda. Men, women, children – I didn't think he cared. He struck me as the kind of man who could rationalize the genocide of an entire people if that's what his beliefs and agenda dictated.

  To me, he seemed to be a level up from even the true believers that McCoy and his men were – there was a fanatical, almost maniacal light in his eyes that even they didn't have. While yeah, they were true believes who'd drink the Kool-Aid if ordered, they were in the business of abducting and selling people to make money.

  John was very clearly different – and it made me uneasy as hell.

  He gestured for me to walk alongside him. “Shall we?”

  I gave him a smile I hoped didn't look forced or fake and nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Seven

  “The problem is, our enemy is not only physically powerful, but they're cunning as hell,” John said. “They're highly intelligent – well, some of them, as I'm sure you've encountered–and that presents unique problems for us.”

  A million questions fired through my brain, but I knew that I had to be very careful what – and how – I asked them. We stood beside the work out arenas in the warehouse, watching John's soldiers train. They were good and personally speaking, I would have loved to train with them. They were learning disciplines I'd never seen before and watching them, made me want to learn them as well.

  “And our enemy are these – shifters,” I said slowly.

  John nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “They're a bigger threat to this country than some religious zealot with a nuclear bomb.”

  I didn't think that was anywhere close to being true, but I wasn't going to contradict him. I had him talking – he seemed eager to talk about what he did, in fact – and I wanted to keep the information coming. The more intel I had, the better it was going to be for me. It increased the likelihood that I'd learn what happened to my sister – and hopefully increased the chances of me finding her.

  “Not to be contrary,” I said carefully, “but how are a group of people who can turn into animals more dangerous than somebody setting off a nuke in say, Los Angeles or New York?”

  He gave me a small condescending smile – one that said I was young and naive. It was a smug smile that made me really hate the man in front of me. Perhaps, I was naive -- but I wasn't an idiot. I just didn't see how werebears were this massive existential threat to the nation.

  “There are more of these things out there than you realize, Olivia,” he said. “And they're infiltrating all levels of our society – they're even infecting the highest levels of our governmental structure. I don't think I have to tell you what happens if we allow that.”

  Actually, he did. So, what if a few of these shifters had seats in Congress – what did it matter? Maybe I was naive because I didn't see what the problem was. John looked at me, giving me that same condescending smile that made me want to slap it off his face.

  “These – things – are abominations,” he said. “We can't normalize them. And we certainly can't have them making decisions for our country. These things aren't even human.”

  I nodded. He had a point – they weren't entirely human. But being as new to the world of shifters as I was, I had a hard time thinking they were as evil as some son of a bitch with a bomb. The son of a bitch with a bomb's only intent was to hurt people. Kill them. Force his ideology – whether it be religious, political -- or what have you, upon another group of people.

  As for the shifters – I had no idea what to make of them. Ever since I'd hooked up with McCoy's group, I'd been staying in Black Salmon Falls – a hotspot for shifters. I'd talked to people around town and their existence wasn't exa
ctly a secret. And most of the people I talked to had no issue with them whatsoever. Most people didn't really even give the fact that they weren't entirely human a second thought. According to most of the people I talked to, they saw the shifter community as just another group of people who were trying to live their lives.

  Of course, not all the people I talked to felt that way. Some felt the way McCoy and John felt – that the shifters were some massive threat to the nation. Some felt that killing them for not being entirely human – for being different – was not only justified, but our duty. To me, listening to some of those people speak, it only sounded like they were finding justifications and rationalizations for their bigotry – which was how John struck me as well.

  Again, maybe I was naive, but I didn't see the threat shifters posed. They weren't blowing themselves up in crowded marketplaces. Weren't shooting up theaters. In fact, they were such a non-threat that ninety-nine percent of the population weren't even aware they existed.

  But I couldn't say that, of course. I had to play my role.

  We turned and walked across the warehouse, toward the banks of computers. I soaked in my surroundings, trying to absorb every detail I could. I never knew what was going to come in handy, so I always liked taking everything in.

  “Who bankrolls this operation, sir?” I asked. “If you don't mind my asking.”

  He shrugged. “Ordinarily, I would mind,” he said. “But McCoy trusts you. And to me, that says a lot. I've known him a lot of years. Served in some of the shittiest places on the planet with him. He's a good man with impeccable judgment.”

  Apparently, his judgment had slipped since McCoy thought I was actually heart and soul, part of his team. Either that, or I was a better actress than I'd ever given myself credit for. Maybe those drama classes I took back in high school were actually good for something after all.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said. “He's a fine leader. I'm proud to serve under him.”

  John nodded, apparently satisfied with my answer. “Officially, of course, we don't exist,” he said. “But we operate under the auspices of the Department of Defense. We're a black department – meaning, we are not subject to government oversight and our operating budget never is invisible.”

  I nodded. That really was an impressive set-up. To have a blank check – the way John did – meant that he'd managed to scare somebody up high enough with the threat of shifters that they'd let him do whatever he wanted.

  “You were a Marine, right?” he asked.

  “Six years, sir,” I said. “Did multiple tours in Afghanistan.”

  “You must have seen some shit,” he said.

  “Enough to last a lifetime,” I replied.

  We stood before the computers and I saw that some of them were security camera feeds – one in particular, interested me. I saw a room filled with cages like the ones we had back at the farmhouse. And as I watched the feed, I saw the two guards escorting the man we'd brought in into one of them. I felt a surge of adrenaline when I noticed that just below the monitor was a tag that said, “Level Three.”

  That's where they kept their prisoners. That's where I might be able to find my sister.

  “So, why are you doing this?” John asked. “I can't imagine this is a dream job for you. And before you answer, just cut through all of the platitudes and other assorted bullshit. I'm a plain-spoken man – I want the plain, unvarnished truth.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “When I rotated home, I didn't have a lot of opportunities. I don't have an education and the plain, unvarnished truth is, I needed the paycheck. I just happened to run into an old platoon-mate, things fell into place, and here I am.”

  John nodded and stroked his chin. “I appreciate the honesty,” he said. “And now that you've been involved with this, what do you think?”

  I knew what he wanted to hear – he wanted to hear that I'd become a true believer. He wanted me to say that I'd come to learn and believe in the existential threat shifters posed to us. And I knew that if I wanted John to come down on my side, I was going to have to make him think I'd pour myself a big glass of the Kool-Aid and drink it too.

  “My eyes have been opened, that's for sure,” I said. “Prior to joining up with McCoy's outfit, I had no idea these things even existed. But now that I do, I see the threat they pose. They're dangerous. And if they are actually infiltrating our society at the highest levels, it's our obligation to put that in check.”

  John nodded and clapped me on the shoulder. “McCoy was right about you,” he said. “You're one of the good ones. You're not like the others he has working for him – you're far more than just a trigger-puller. I like you, Olivia.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I was dying to get him to take me down to the level with the cages – I wanted to see if my sister was there. But I felt like I was on the verge of getting an in with him, of putting myself in a better position and earning some trust – I didn't want to screw the pooch by moving too quickly. It would look more than a bit suspicious.

  Patience, Liv, I told myself. Patience. It will pay off large for you.

  “May I ask you a question, sir?”

  He nodded. “Please.”

  “What is it you do with these shifters?” I asked. “When we bring them in, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “We have a team of scientists that run experiments,” he said. “We're searching for better, more efficient ways to not just detect them, but kill them.”

  My heart sank as he spoke. A million scenarios about what happened to the shifters we caught had run through my mind when I hooked up with McCoy's crew – but being subjects of medical experiments was never one of them. Now that I was seeing the bigger picture – from the inside – it all made sense. And I suddenly found myself both terrified for my little sister and already mourning her loss. If they were running experiments for better ways to kill them, I knew it wasn't good news for any of the shifters we'd brought in.

  “Well, we should probably get you and your team on the road,” John said. “I want to thank you for taking the time to speak with me. It was a pleasure getting to know more about you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Just go ahead and wait here,” he said. “Your team will be up in a minute.”

  I nodded and watched him walk away. I was curious though – he'd obviously been sizing me up. But for what? Had he seen through me? Did he know my real mission? Or had I managed to fool him as well?

  As I watched McCoy and the others coming my way, I had a feeling I was going to find out one way or the other soon enough.

  Chapter Eight

  Luca

  I stood in the parking lot of the Salmon Run, absorbing my surroundings. I'd already stopped by Dale's and had checked out Burrows' car. I found an old shirt of his, which could prove useful. Looking around at the nearly empty parking lot, I tried to picture how it had been the night he'd gone missing.

  The lot was probably full. Being a Friday night, there were likely a lot of people out, celebrating the weekend. I walked over to the spot where they'd found his car and looked around. There was nothing overly remarkable about it – clear lines of sight in every direction. The bar sat on a small lot near the end of a block with shops across the street. The road ended at the river and beyond that lay the forest.

  Burrows could have gotten into his car and taken off. But something had spooked him enough that he'd taken off on foot, leaving his car behind. What had it been though?

  I held his shirt to my nose and inhaled deeply, taking in as much of his scent as I could. I put the shirt back into my bag and squatted down in the spot his car had been, breathing deeply. I was worried that too much time had passed and his scent would be gone. But there were faint traces of it still in the air.

  I tried to fix my mind on the scent – and more importantly, the trail. I followed the trace of his scent and found that it led toward the river. He'd taken off on foot and headed for the forest. I had to think that Burrows fel
t like he might have an advantage over whoever was chasing him out in the woods. I walked to the small bridge that crossed the river and walked deeper into the forest, his scent somewhat stronger among the trees. There was less pollution and contamination among the densely packed forest, meaning his scent was able to linger a bit longer.

  I found his trail quickly and followed it deep into the woods. Squatting down at one point, I looked closely at the underbrush and found tracks – human tracks. And not Burrows'. There were three pairs of boots – two had left deep impressions, one had left shallower tracks. That led me to believe there were two men and one woman in pursuit. He'd obviously picked up on them clocking him in the parking lot of the bar and had bolted for the woods.

  A little further on, I found his clothes. He'd shifted in that spot and judging by the tracks, had tried to outrun them. He was faster and had more endurance as a bear than as a human, so that made sense. And looking at the path he was taking, I had to guess that he was heading for Baker's Ridge. The Ridge was densely packed, steeply sloped, and wasn't overly-hospitable to human footing. If he'd been able to make the ridge, he could have disappeared into the forest and likely, to safety.

  The fact that Burrows was missing though, meant he hadn't made it to the Ridge.

  I walked on, straining my senses, listening, scenting the air – I doubted the abductors were out there, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I had no intention of being captured – I was going to bring these bastards down.

  Following the trail – made easier now that I had Burrows' bear scent – I walked through the forest. Although it was late afternoon and the sun was still in the sky, the interior of the woods was dimly lit. Gloomy. The thick canopy overhead kept most of the light out, casting much of the floor of the forest in shadows. Even still, Burrows' bear scent was like a bright line through the trees. I could have closed my eyes and followed it.

  The trail led me to a small clearing – more like a wide space between the trees, really. But that was where Burrows had made his last stand. At least, it was judging by the number of trampled shrubs and foliage. His scent was strong there. And all of the signs pointed to a major fight – a fight Burrows ultimately lost, it would seem.

 

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