“Here they come,” Norm said, slipping his Mini-14 off safety. “I figure the range at about three hundred meters.”
“Let them get about seventy-five yards from us,” Matt said. “Noise discipline in effect, boys.”
The three men waited. After a moment they could hear the civilians in the bunch talking but could not make out the words, although they could tell it was in English. And the civilians could communicate with the huge hairy Sataws traveling with them by using sign language.
This isn’t a movement that just sprang up, Matt thought. Whatever their plan, they’ve been working on it for a long time. They work too well together for this to be the first time.
Sure, he thought: the urge that Nick talked about. Whenever the moon or the stars or whatever brought it on did so, the civilians would leave the urban areas and return to the wild, to fulfill their growing blood lust.
I’ve got to take one prisoner and find out how big this movement is, he thought, lifting his rifle and sighting in on the woman who appeared to be the leader.
“Now!” Matt said, and pulled the trigger, the .223 slug knocking the woman to the ground, her knee shattered.
The trio pumped lead into the startled group of civilians and half-beasts. Between them, they had ninety rounds in their clips and they turned the peaceful land into a slaughterhouse. The battle lasted less than a minute. And they knew they had not killed or wounded them all. Some would have hit the ground immediately, and they would be waiting for the men to leave their positions and come down to finish them off.
Matt and Norm and Jones remained at the timberline, listening to the moaning that drifted to them from below.
“I figure we have fifteen minutes, max, before their friends get here,” Matt said. “I’d like to talk to one of the wounded.”
“You take the front, Matt,” Norm said. “Me and Jones will split up the flanks and the rear.”
“OK.”
“Dirty rotten sons-of-bitches!” a woman’s voice called out. “You’ve killed them all!”
“Like hell we have, lady,” Matt muttered. “That trick’s as old as time.”
“That tells me we didn’t get them all,” Norm whispered.
“One coming up in my perimeter,” Jones spoke softly. “Don’t worry about him. I have him in visual.” The men had automatically reverted to military jargon.
Jones’ AR-15 slammed and a short scream cut the misty air, followed by the thud of a falling body. Norm’s rifle cracked just as two civilians charged Matt. Matt cut them down and the area fell silent.
“Let’s see what’s down there,” Norm said.
“I’ll point,” Matt said. “Norm on my right, Jones.”
“Let’s do it!”
The men jumped a log and charged down the slope. A huge bloody Sataw reared up in front of Jones. The ex-paratrooper put three rounds into the beast’s chest and kept running. A man jumped up from the tall grass and began running away. Norm triggered off a few rounds, knocking the man sprawling. The woman with the shattered knee leveled a pistol at Matt. Matt kicked her in the mouth with the toe of his boot. The pistol went flying out of her hand and she lost consciousness. When she opened her eyes, her hands were tied behind her back and she was looking up into the pale eyes of Matt and hearing the shots as Norm and Jones finished off the more badly wounded.
“Savages!” she spat at him.
Matt grunted. “That’s an interesting thing for you to call me, lady, with human blood still on your lips. What are you, a goddamned vampire?”
She stared at him.
“I want some information, lady.”
“I’ll tell you nothing,” she hissed.
Matt took a knife from his belt. “Oh, I think you will.”
7
It did not take Matt long.
Jones fought to keep down his meager lunch and Norm completely lost his while Matt was extracting information from the woman. Then they both watched as Matt left the side of what remained of the woman, walked a few steps, and vomited. He sat down on the wet earth and bathed his face with a handkerchief soaked from a canteen.
“I never liked torture,” he finally said. “I’ve been around when it was going on more times than I like to recall, but I’ve always managed not to take part in it. Most of the time. You hear what she had to say, boys. Would you say that we’re fucked in here?”
“Gang-shagged might be a better word,” Norm said.
“I can’t believe these . . . creatures have people in all the areas she claimed,” Jones said. “What about security checks?”
“They’ve covered their back trail pretty damn well, I’d say,” Matt said, standing up. “Let’s get out of here. We’re cutting it fine now.”
“Where to?” Norm asked.
“I just remembered something,” Jones said, slipping into his pack. “There’s an old rundown and long-deserted mining complex on a river. It’d be ... north and a little east of here. Big ol’ place. Monroe said there was a maze of tunnels running underneath it. The CWA uses it to cache supplies.”
“What river?”
“I don’t know. It’s more of a big creek than a river.”
“Would there be radio equipment stashed there?”
Jones shook his head. “I’m sorry—I just don’t know. Maybe.”
“Let’s try it, Matt. Let’s get gone from this place,” Norm said. “It’s too damned open.”
* * *
Jeff Atkins, the President’s chief of staff, sat impassively in a chair. He had not changed expression during the President’s sometimes heated barrage of words. When he still would neither confirm nor deny the charges, the President stepped forward and slapped the man across the face.
“Answer me, God damn you!”
Atkins lifted his eyes. “What happened to Hammel and Lake and the other agents supposed to be on duty at this time?”
“They’re under guard until this mess is cleared up.”
“It’ll never be cleared up until what remains of the tribe is wiped from the face of the earth.”
“That’s why you used my name to order the relocation of the tribe.”
“Yes.”
“What were you going to do with them?”
“Another Jonestown.”
“That’s barbaric!”
“You don’t understand. Something’s happened to many of those on the outside. Something has gone wrong. More and more are running amok. Reverting to the old ways. Yielding to the primitive urges. They’ve got to be stopped. ”
“But not all of them.”
“No. About ten or fifteen percent, as close as we can calculate. But they’re dangerous.”
“But why kill off the entire tribe because of that?”
“You don’t understand. The tribe has had to shift locations many times, away from good water. Several generations have been drinking water contaminated by all the mining, the chemicals washing into the streams. It’s upset the genetic balance . . . it’s upset something . . . created some chemical imbalance in the brain that is passed on to the offspring. And while those who leave the tribe appear human, the brain is infected, and it gets worse with each generation. They have to be destroyed, Mr. President. There’s no other way.”
“How do you know? Have you sought medical opinions?”
“Yes. Many of the descendants of the tribe are physicians. We have noted scientists in the field of genetics.” He reached into a breast pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I wrote this several days ago. It’s my resignation. I can no longer be trusted to behave in a rational manner, Mr. President. Several nights ago I stepped out on the porch to get a breath of air and suddenly wanted to drop down on all fours and howl and rip off my clothing and run free and taste blood.” He sighed. “I don’t even like rare steak. You know that.”
“Who sent Matt Jordan in originally?”
“I don’t know. And that’s the truth. It could be one of a dozen men and women in government. It’s a struggle withi
n a struggle, Mr. President. The tribe is being torn apart internally.”
“General Dawson?”
“You don’t have to worry about Dawson. You’ll find him at his house.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just came from there. I killed him.”
“You did . . . what?”
“I killed him. We’ve talked long about this ... matter. He was worried about his mental state. When I got a call from him this afternoon, he was almost hysterical. I went right over, naturally. General Dawson was, by then, naked, loping through the house on all fours, ripping down drapes and overturning furniture. His wife was dead; he’d killed her and ... had been lapping at her blood. He begged me to shoot him. I did.”
Other senior members of the President’s staff had quietly entered the Oval Office, with checked-out and cleared agents of various government agencies.
The President turned to members of his staff who had been cleared and briefed by Manetti and Willis. “Englund, get the Vice President home as fast as you can. Mary, get the commanding general at Fort Lewis on the phone, bring him up to date, tell him this is to be handled with the utmost secrecy, and get that ranger battalion stationed out there on the way to Matt Jordan’s last known position. The press lid is clamped down tight on this matter. That is an order and I will put it in writing. Anyone who leaks a word about this matter to anyone not cleared by me will be brought up on charges. Move, people.”
He turned to a Secret Service agent. “Keller, take Mr. Atkins and get the names of people in government who are affiliated in any way with this tribe.” He turned to the Director of the Bureau. “Miller, send a team of agents, quietly, out to General Dawson’s home and clean up the mess and bodybag the general and his wife. Have the bodies stored.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is going to hit the news, people; it’s inevitable. It’ll probably be leaked by someone sympathetic to the tribe. We’ve got to have a statement ready. You stay with me, Brownie, and get to work on something.”
“Right, sir.”
“Are the Joint Chiefs assembled?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll meet with them now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Farnam, have plenty of fresh coffee on hand around the clock, and lots of sandwiches. There isn’t going to be much sleeping for the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”
* * *
“No point in us blundering around out here in the dark,” Matt said, glancing up at the cloudy sky. The rain had stopped, at least for the moment. “Too dangerous. I figure we’ve got about an hour of daylight left. Let’s find us a hidey-hole, secure it, and call it a day.”
They had been lucky that day, and the three of them knew it. But luck has a nasty habit of running out, and they were getting tired. Tired people make mistakes. And in this game, a mistake meant death.
They found a thick stand of brush and crawled up in it, careful not to disturb the entrance. They ate field rations that had about as much flavor as the wrappers and made themselves as comfortable as possible.
“At least we’re still alive,” Norm summed it up.
But for how long? was the unspoken question on all their minds.
* * *
“We got troubles,” Nick whispered to Dan.
“What’s wrong?”
“I been explorin’ some. Found a small tunnel off this one filled with survival gear. I only opened a couple of the boxes. Clothes and food. I figure the CWA’s been usin’ this place to cache supplies.”
“That means there’s a good chance that some of them will be here.”
“Yeah, I’d say so. That is, if any escaped from the breakaways.”
“Well, there is one way in from the north, through the complex, and a way in through the mountain. I doubt those nuts know of the mountain entrance. We’re gonna have to post guards up in the old office building. Mrs. Dalton brought little radios so we can talk back and forth. Let’s tell the others and start laying out shifts.”
* * *
“We’ll send in air strikes,” a general suggested.
The President lifted his eyes heavenward and clenched his fists under the table. “No, General, we won’t send in air strikes. That area is made up of thousands and thousands of acres of wilderness. We’re not dealing with huge armies here. Whom did you plan to strike? A ranger battalion from Fort Lewis, Washington, is on the way in now. They have orders to find the CIA man and the campers. When that’s done, they’ll bring in helicopters to airlift them out.”
“Are the rangers’ hands tied in the matter of self-defense, sir?” an army general asked.
“No. Any military unit being sent in has orders to defend themselves using any method available. I ordered blood tests on all special operations units. The West Coast SEAL teams have been cleared. They are on the way in now. Marine force recon units are being moved in as well. I ordered a contingent from the 101st out of Fort Campbell to secure the National Guard base that will be used to house these . . . tribe members.”
“What are you going to do with them, sir?” Navy asked.
The President sighed. “I don’t know, Admiral. I just honest to God don’t know.”
The phone buzzed and the President picked it up. He listened for a half a minute, then hung up and cussed.
“That was General Lanford from the NSA. He confirmed that the National Security Agency has been compromised. We may as well assume that all departments have been penetrated and act accordingly. Testing is being done as quickly as possible, around the clock. When one section’s personnel have been cleared, change the codes. Any questions?”
“These . . . tribe people on the outside can’t win this thing,” Air Force said. “What do they hope to gain?”
“I don’t know,” the President admitted. “I don’t know of anybody who could answer that question.”
“Don’t be too sure they won’t make an impact,” Marine Corps said. “If they’ve been coming out for three or four hundred years or longer, that could conceivably mean thousands of them have taken their place in society. The bite of one is supposed to be highly infectious, with the capability of altering a normal person’s behavior. If there is some genetic breakdown occurring, we could have a real bloodbath on our hands. Let’s get the relocation moving and have CDC people in there doing testing on a large scale. Atkins said testing has been done; but I’ll bet it was done by only a few scientists working in fear and secrecy. Maybe the CDC, working around the clock, can come up with a vaccine.”
The President nodded at an aide. “Do it,” he ordered.
* * *
“Monroe,” Judd said, inspecting the ground near the old mining complex. “There’s fresh horse droppings here.”
Monroe got off his horse and knelt down.
“More over here,” Woody called. “Pretty good-sized bunch came this way and not too long ago.”
“Them government people?” Seymour questioned.
“Has to be. And they’re headin’ straight for the old minin’ shacks. Cathy said that guide was part link, so he’d know all about this country and them tunnels over yonder.”
“Monroe, we’d be walkin’ into a trap goin’ in them buildin’s by night,” Luther pointed out.
“We ain’t gonna do that. We’ll split up into three five-man teams. I’ll take one; Judd, you take another; Woody, you head up the third.”
“How come I never get to be a leader?” Marwood said in a pouty tone.
“Shut up,” Luther told him. “Stay in the timber and start gettin’ into position now. Them folks is amateurs at this war business. Sooner or later one of them is gonna make a mistake and give away the guard position. Then we’ll know where to strike.”
“How come you call that CIA man an amateur?” Jim Bob questioned. “Him and them that was hepin’ him shore done a number on our ass.”
Monroe smiled. “They ain’t with this group, that’s why. They out yonder in the wilderne
ss coverin’ these folks’ back trail. On foot.”
“Them horses we seen!” Ely said.
“That’s right. That CIA man and his buddies is some miles behind us. We’ll take this bunch, fuck the eyeballs outta them fancy gals, git our supplies and radio in to headquarters for them to send us some help. Then we can all git the hell gone from this horrible place.”
“It’s startin’ to rain agin,” Marwood said glumly.
“I know, Marwood,” Monroe said. “I know.”
* * *
“I just remembered something,” Jones whispered, although there was no need to with the hard driving rain that pounded their crude shelter. “There is a radio over there in that old mining complex. A real expensive rig, from what Whitman told me one time. It’s stored there in case of emergency.”
“That’s what this is, all right,” Norm said.
“What band?” Matt asked.
“High band.”
“That’s our ticket out of here, then. Can anybody sleep?”
“Hell, no!” Norm said.
“Me, neither,” Jones said.
Matt stood up and slipped into his poncho. “Let’s get on the march, then. Those CWA men are hours ahead of us and they’re on horseback. If they get there ahead of us, the women are in for a bad time.”
They had not gone a mile before they found a horse. A dead man on the ground, a death grip on the reins. The animal was so spooked it took Matt several minutes of quiet soothing talk to calm the horse.
“Who the hell is he?” Norm asked.
“Not one of the CWA men. I never saw this guy before in my life.”
Matt took the dead man’s wallet out of his hip pocket. Using a tiny flashlight held between his teeth, he inspected the contents while Norm and Jones tied their heavy packs onto and behind the saddle. With the packs gone from their backs, they could make twice the time as before.
“He’s a pharmacist from Oregon,” Matt said. He shone the light into the dead man’s wide-open eyes. They were dark brown with a yellow tint. “One of them,” he muttered. “And he’s been shot in the belly. Go through his saddlebags, Norm.”
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