A Haunt of Jackals

by G. R. Carter

  He reached the corner of the hallway and raised his hand in a fist. Everyone stopped as he peered around the corner to get a view of their destination.

  Just barely lit, he saw “EXIT” about fifty yards away. He breathed a sigh of relief at his chance to get out of this 7th circle of Hell.

  Movement.

  Morton stopped in his tracks and stepped back to the corner. One of his men ran into his back, fully in motion and unable to stop. Morton stumbled around the corner, trying to regain his balance. He kept his feet, but the commotion caught the attention of whatever was at the end of that corridor.

  A low scream sent shivers down Morton’s back. The noise sounded inhuman, full of rage and hatred. The movement became a shape in the shadows. Morton stood his ground, struggling with self-preservation’s demand that he run for his life. He let his own wrath quicken in his gut.

  “Form up!” he demanded. Two Eels joined him at each shoulder, one took up position directly behind him. Each gripped their batons tightly.

  A guttural cry came out of Morton’s throat before he even realized it. Every emotion he’d been fighting channeled into one. He began to run after the echoes of his scream, closing ground with the impossibly large shape in front of him. He raised his right baton and swung with every ounce of hatred he possessed. There was sharp crack as the stick made contact. Then Morton was flying backwards, struck by a hammer blow to his chest. He hit the concrete floor with a thud. There should have been pain, but he felt nothing but rage. He jumped back to his feet and lunged again, this time with a blow aimed at the giant’s face. His target moved at the last moment, distracted by slamming an Eel into the exposed pipes running shoulder-high along the corridor. Morton’s blow missed the inmate’s face by an inch, instead smashing into the back of his head.

  Blood spurted out as the scalp split. The baton was cracked now, something that wasn’t supposed to happen according the manufacturers. The surface became serrated, allowing Morton’s backstroke to remove chunks of skin from the huge cheek as it sliced across.

  The spider webbed inmate screamed and lashed out, striking the armor plates of Morton’s tactical suit. The composite could deflect sharpened weapons, but forceful blows still caused damage to the soft tissues underneath. The shockwave through his body staggered him. He fought for breath from beneath freshly-cracked ribs.

  The inmate stomped forward to finish him off, teeth flashing like nightmarish white fangs, but two Eels were on him. One had a chokehold on him from behind; a comical scene with the guard’s combat style boots nearly a foot off of the ground. The other looked like he was playing the drums, swinging both of his batons at the inmate’s knee. Cracking and grinding mixed with screams of pain as the giant finally buckled and went down.

  But he wasn’t finished yet. He writhed around on the ground, trying to get the chokehold off. Morton saw his chance. As the inmate rolled over to put his weight on the Eel at his back, Morton raised his baton to strike. Only then did he recognize the beast he’d tackled in the warden’s office. He’d sent the full electrical discharge of his suit into the man when he struck. That blow should have put him in the infirmary for days; instead the nightmare was back, hurting more of his men.

  Without thinking, Morton brought the baton down on the giant’s face. Pieces of teeth mixed with blood spatter. Again the baton came down. And again, and again. Morton saw nothing through his eyes, only the vision of dead guards. Again the baton came down on what remained of a human face.

  Finally a strong hand grabbed his arm. “Sarge, it’s done,” a voice said. When Morton tried to strike again: “Sarge! Come on! Now’s our chance.”

  Morton was nearly hyperventilating when he looked at McCoy. “Come on, Sarge,” the young Eel said. “There’s probably more right behind this one. I climbed up and barricaded the door, but let’s not take any chances, okay?”

  Morton nodded and huffed for breath at the same time. His body was at a breaking point, exhausted from the struggle and stress—and the cumulative effects of nights of too much liquor and too little sleep.

  He couldn’t go on. His knees buckled, all he wanted to do was lay down. Way too old for this. There was a reason why new recruits were young. Morton should be behind the glass, supervising and handing out advice for the young bucks to ignore.

  She was back again; his wife’s face filled his mind. His son stood next to her, a strong and powerful young warrior, once again whole. He felt their hands lifting him up, recharging his spirit.

  His mind was made up, he could go on just a little longer. His men needed him, they were counting on him to make this right. It hadn’t been his fault, this whole mess, but it had happened on his watch. That made it almost as bad.

  He straightened himself up, pulled off his helmet and wiped away a cold sweat. He tried to spit away crusted blood, but no saliva came this time. “You okay, McCoy?” he asked through a parched mouth.

  The young man nodded and smiled. “Yeah, Sarge, I’m good.”

  Morton took as deep a breath as his throbbing ribcage would allow. He put back on his helmet and picked up what was left of his baton. “All right, then. Let’s go get some fresh air.”

  Chapter 24

  Ridgeview Hunting Lodge

  Rural Brown County, Illinois

  Night Two of the Great Reset

  “I don’t give two craps about what all your townies are doing, Kara. I paid for these rooms, I deserve at least one for Trey and me to sleep in.” JR Casey stood in the middle of Ridgeview Lodge’s largest suite, the one his father referred to as the Presidential. “We’re not sleeping out in that rat-infested barn of yours!”

  Kara Bradshaw had a bit of a temper. She could yell, and sometimes swear, with the most foul-mouthed of the men who visited Ridgeview Lodge. But when she got mad—really, really mad—her tone got very measured and quiet.

  Right now she stood with her arms crossed, simply staring at what she currently considered a pathetic excuse for a man.

  “First of all,” she said coolly, staring JR Casey directly in the eye, “you didn’t pay for these rooms. Your dad did.” She’d struck a hard opening blow. Everyone who knew JR Casey just a little was aware of how he felt living in his father’s shadow. Even dead now for a few days, Ben Casey was somehow still in charge.

  “Secondly, it’s not a rat-infested barn. There’s lights, a concrete floor, heat. None of the other men are complaining about staying out there.”

  “None of the rest are paying to be here. They’re lucky to have anywhere with a roof,” JR fired back. “And don’t give me the crap about Dad paying for the rooms. I’m a part of that company, too. In fact, I’m going to own that company as soon as the will gets read.”

  He gave her a little grin—not the happy type, the one that told her he had a card to play. “In fact, I’d think you’d be a little nice to someone who decides how company dollars are spent. There’s plenty of hunting lodges for us to have our retreats at each year.” He nodded and smiled. “In fact, I hear Wisconsin is pretty nice. Maybe a little closer to home, too.”

  It was Kara’s turn to give her own sarcastic smile. “I don’t care if you ever show up here again, JR. Of course, if you didn’t, you’d be wasting your money; Ben signed a twenty-year contract with me when you all were here last year. Guarantees our fee every year, whether you show up here or not.”

  JR turned bright red. “We’ll see what happens to this lodge when my lawyers get through with you. Contracts and fees will be the least of your worries. Think more along the lines of wrongful death lawsuits,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

  Kara’s mouth dropped open for just a moment, then her jaw set again. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “The hell I wouldn’t. In fact I’m going to make that first on my list when I get home,” he said, smiling again like a cat with the canary.

  “Your father would never want you to do that to us.”

  “Quit acting like you know my father so well,” JR said. “Jeez,
he stays at this stupid lodge once a year. You act like he’s some friend of yours.”

  “You’d be surprised how often we spoke,” she said. “Ben always took an interest in this place, in Sy and me. The whole staff, too. And especially Max.”

  “He felt sorry for you, maybe. Max without a decent male role model—”

  Kara smacked him across the face. She was strong woman, and anger doubled the power of her blow. When JR’s face came back around, there was a little blood around the split in his lower lip.

  “Now you’ve got assault and battery to add to your list, you little witch,” he said. “I should put you down on the ground right now…teach you some manners.”

  Kara took a half-step back, weight on her back foot. Her hands clenched loosely and went to waist height, just like she’d been taught in her self-defense class. Another insistence from Ben Casey, that seemed silly at the time, but now she thanked him for looking out for her one more time.

  JR looked at her stance and laughed. “Going all Karate Kid on me, huh? That supposed to scare me?”

  She took a deep breath. Her mind told her to try to defuse the situation, to keep the peace no matter the cost. But in the end, she was a Bradshaw. There was only so much she should have to take from a man like this. “I figure since you were scared to go into town with the rest of the men, you’d probably fear me, too.”

  The look on his face made her regret her decision to provoke him. He still outweighed her by thirty pounds and had the advantage of a company-sponsored workout program. Undisciplined or not, he had a good chance of hurting her.

  He took a step forward, reaching out with both hands to grab her. She'd experienced the same move several times in sparring class. Training flowed through her movements, allowing his motion to betray his balance. With the grab of a wrist and the turn of her body she flung him to the ground. It was like a drill, except the floor below was hardwood and not a padded mat. JR hit the ground with thud and a groan. The sound of pain turned to rage and he sprung back to his feet.

  She went back into ready position and shuffled backwards on the balls of her feet, trying to gain a little more distance between the two. He’s used to getting his way with women, she thought. Use that to your advantage now.

  JR’s eyes burned in desperation. He was a cornered animal looking to lash out at his tormenter. She could see him scan the room, looking for something to use as a weapon. In a split-second decision, she rushed him. She sent a kick at his knee, then jabbed with her right fist. Neither landed, but she had the initiative now. JR looked like he just wanted to get away from this crazy woman he had thought would be another pushover.

  He moved to his right, eyes locked on her next move instead of his own. With a crash, he plowed into the suite’s giant antique dresser. His shoulder hit, then his head, knocking him off balance and leaving him woozy as pictures and candles sitting on top of the dresser crashed to the floor.

  Kara’s blood was boiling, adrenaline pumping as she took another jab at his staggering form. She landed her blow this time, sending him face first into the hardwood.

  But he still didn’t stay down; he came back up with a piece of broken picture frame in his hand. His face was really bleeding now. A bloodcurdling scream rose up directly at her. She felt lost for a moment, like she was in a surreal nightmare scene from a horror movie.

  She shuffled back again, this time towards the door. She wanted to be out of the room, out amongst people, away from this creature in front of her. One-on-one, hand-to-hand was one thing. Now that JR seemed determined to use a sharp object, the fight had changed complexion.

  She turned to run out the door. Instead she was stopped by two hundred pounds of muscle standing in her way.

  “What in blue blazes is going on here!” an Australian accent demanded. Darwin King stood glaring with a murderous scowl. Glaring at JR, to be exact.

  “What are you looking at me for!” JR screamed. “I’m the one bleeding!”

  King shook his head in disgust. “Always a bit of a disappointment, eh, JR?”

  He looked down at Kara, a softer look still tinged with disappointment. “And you, Kara. I leave for just a bit and things go all cockeyed round here. It looks like bush week out on the lawn.”

  King didn’t wait for her reply. His glare turned back to JR. “Look here, JR, your ol’ man would straight give you the boot if he saw you like this. Just a couple days on and already you’ve gone wanker on us.”

  “Quit telling me about my father!” JR shouted, rage building again. “You two didn’t know him like I did. Stop acting like you were his best friends!”

  King shook his head again, more in pity than disgust this time. “You still don’t get it, do you, JR?”

  Little Max and Trey came running into the room. Trey saw his dad and stopped dead in his tracks, like he’d come face to face with a real-life monster. Max seemed wary too, but immediately ran to his mom and hugged her.

  Kara gave the best mom smile she could. “It’s okay, boys,” she said. “Mr. Casey just had little accident. Me and Mr. King are going to help him clean it up.”

  JR didn’t agree immediately; his anger still overcame any concern for his son’s feelings. Finally he wiped some of the blood off his face and nodded. “Yeah, Trey. Your clumsy dad ran into the dresser. Pretty silly, huh?” The good-natured boy ran to his father, anxious to help in any way he could. He gave him a quick hug.

  Darwin looked to Kara again. “Say, love, why don’t you take the boys down with you to make the rounds? You got lotsa folks to look after, and these fine young men would be a big help. What do you say, boys? Can you give the queen of this castle a hand?”

  “Sure, Mr. King,” Max said.

  Trey didn’t look sure he should leave his father. JR patted his back and gave him a nod. “I need to get cleaned up, son. You go on with Max, okay?”

  The boy nodded and ran to his friend’s side. Kara put an arm around each one and walked down the hallway towards the stairs.

  JR started to walk to the bathroom to get cleaned up. The bedroom door slammed and before he realized what was happening, Darwin King had him pinned up against the wall. “Listen, you sorry, sufferin’ drongo. You mess with that girl again and it’ll be me kickin’ your ass, not her. We gotta clear understanding?”

  JR turned his face away from King’s.

  The Aussie wasn’t letting up. “You don’t have any idea what your father thought of that girl, do ya?”

  JR still didn’t look him in the eye. But he did finally reply. “I just don’t get it. He’d drag us out to this little hillbilly town every year. For what? And now I find out he was buying her things, giving her long-term contracts. It’s like she was his girlfriend or something…”

  JR finally looked at King with panic in his eyes. King loosened his grip and stepped back.

  JR shook his head back and forth. “No, no, no…you got to be kidding me. He’s been sleeping with her? No wonder he took such an interest in her…”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not all what you think. Goes a bit deeper than that. But it ain’t none of your business anyhow.”

  JR wasn’t listening, deep in his own thoughts. “Oh man, mom is going to be crushed.”

  King snorted and chuckled. JR shot him an evil look.

  “Ben and your mom haven’t really been together for years, sport. Just puttin’ on for show, really.”

  “That’s, that’s…impossible,” JR stammered. “I would have…”

  “What? You would have known? Really? You’ve been too busy sticking corporate profits up your nose and chasing the help around the city. You been thinkin’ with the wrong brain, youngsta. You never consider anyone but yourself.”

  JR staggered. He wiped his face again, this time for more than just blood. “They’ve been lying to me the whole time.”

  “Wasn’t none of your business,” King repeated. When he chuckled again, it was more sarcastic. “You’re a man grown, don’t you say that all the time? You
r mom and dad were adults, too. They handled their lives the way they decided. It was mutual, you see.”

  JR looked at King with spiteful bloodshot eyes. “You knew the whole time. But dad never thought to confide in me about anything. Not the business, not in life… but you and some backwoods whore…”

  King smacked JR hard, open-handed, to sting more than wound. “Don’t you ever call that girl anything but ‘Miss’ ever again. Or you and I are gonna have heaps of trouble between us.” He grabbed JR by the shirt collar. “I never really liked you from the start; I just put on for the sake of your ol’ man. But he ain’t here to prop you up all the time anymore. Find some spine, or find your way out.”

  JR looked bewildered. No one ever spoke to Ben Casey’s son this way. Especially not his good-natured buddy from the Outback. He and Darwin had put away many a pint together, hunted on almost every continent, spent hours talking about every imaginable subject. How could he not of known about the darker sides of people he thought were his family and friends?

  King held on to JR’s shirt, unwilling to let go until he got his agreement. JR finally gave in, and King turned him loose. “Now, I suggest you get cleaned up and grab a blanket. You’re going to sleep out in the shed with the rest of the men who stayed behind.”

  JR almost said something about where King was going to sleep, then thought better of it.

  King sensed what he was thinking. He shook his head. “Bloody hell, some kinda light weight your old man got for a first-born son. Just get your ass out of here before I decide to beat it.”

  JR grabbed a blanket off the bed and stormed out, not even stopping to clean up his face.

  Dangerous, that one, King thought. He’s trouble brewin’. Especially when he finds out who Ben Casey’s favorite son really was.