“Put the basin on the nightstand. I’m not feeling any breaks. Her pulse is good and strong. What happened?”
Jack related the story to his wife, leaving her as baffled as he was. Sara sent Jack to the kitchen for chicken broth she had simmering on the stove, then removed the girl’s torn, dirty clothes and mud-caked sneakers. She sponged the girl’s body down, patted her dry, bandaged her cuts, and dressed her in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
Jack quietly entered the room carrying a bamboo tray with a small bowl of chicken broth and a glass of water with a straw. He felt the comforting warmth from the flames dancing in the fireplace and watched as Sara meticulously picked forest debris from the girl’s matted hair. “Sara?”
“Oh! Thanks, Jack. Help me get her under the blankets.” Jack lifted the girl while Sara turned back the sheets, then laid her back down, Sara pulling the comforter up to her chin. Sara pressed the straw to the girls lips and whispered, “Come on, sweetheart, take a little drink.” No response.
“We should contact somebody,” Sara said. “How about Al Jarvis, the local sheriff?”
“I thought about it,” Jack said, “but I just checked my cell phone and there’s no reception.”
“Did you try my phone?”
“I did.” Jack hesitated. “Kinda weird, don’t you think?” He nodded toward the girl. “First this, and then both phones out of service?”
“You know cell service up here is spotty. I wouldn’t worry.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, “probably nothing.”
Jack went to the foyer, stopping to once again check their cell phones resting on the check-in counter. Both screens displayed the same message: No Signal. He swung behind the counter and looked at the glowing computer screen on their laptop. A small message displayed in the lower right corner said: Network unavailable.
No cell phone or Internet service, and all on the heels of this strange little visitor? Jack shook his head, then went to lock the front door. He made sure all the windows and the back door were also secure.
Sara picked up a stuffed teddy bear from an easy chair in front of the fireplace. She placed it next to the girl, its fuzzy head and cute face resting on the pillow near her head. What kid didn’t love and feel safe with a teddy bear? The girl would be happy when she woke up and saw this one watching her.
Sean Foster peered through the scope of his assault rifle and scanned the front of the resort. No movement. The black SUV that had picked up the girl was parked next to a small blue station wagon.
Foster’s earpiece came to life. “Right flank clear,” said Bernie Robinson. “I’m setting up shop where I can see both the right flank and rear of the structure.”
“Kurt, talk to me.”
“Left flank is clear, Sean,” said Kurt Cummings. “I’ll cover the other corner.”
“Roger. Any movement, inform me immediately. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage.”
A new voice came over the radio. “Sean, this is Sal. The big boys are gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“The trail just...disappeared. There’s no sign of them.”
Sal Vincenzo was an expert at following the slightest hint of a trail. If he couldn’t pick one up, then Foster had to believe there wasn’t one. “How far out are you?” Foster asked.
“Just crossed the bridge,” said Vincenzo.
“Okay. Take one last look, then move to my position. I am just inside the tree line, facing the front of the building.”
Foster thought for a second, then radioed Robinson and Cummings. “Bernie, Kurt, did you hear Sal?”
“Roger,” Bernie said.
“Got it,” Kurt said.
“Keep your eyes wide open. We don’t know where those things might pop up.”
Soon after, Dave Serrafino, Sal Vincenzo, and Eric Mitchell slid to the ground beside Foster.
“Good to see you guys again,” Foster said.
“Yeah, same here, Sean,” Serrafino said. “What’s the story?”
“Nothing yet. That black SUV brought the girl here but we haven’t seen a soul—”
“Movement inside!” blasted through their earpieces. “Rear window, left side, first floor.”
“ID?” Foster said.
“Too quick, possibly female,” Robinson said. “Curtains moved, someone looked out, then the window closed.”
“Can you get in closer?” Foster asked.
“I can try,” Robinson said.
“Kurt, can you back him up?”
“Roger,” Cummings answered.
Foster turned to the three men who had just arrived. “Sal, take the left flank. Dave, you got the right. Eric, you’re here with me. And remember, no contact. Keep your eyes sharp for the Centurions too. We don’t know when they might surprise us.” Vincenzo and Serrafino split up and circled wide under the cover of the forest, approaching the property from opposite sides.
Robinson squatted below the window. Through sheer white curtains, he saw a fire burning in a stone fireplace, heavy wood furniture, and a four poster bed piled with blankets. A man carried a tray with a bowl and a glass on it. A woman knelt by the side of the bed. Robinson quietly relayed the information over his radio. “A girl in the bed--looks like they’re tending to her.”
“Bernie,” said Foster, “can you check the other windows?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“I got your back, Bernie,” said Cummings.
Robinson grabbed his assault rifle and crept along the rear of the building, peeking into every window. A few minutes later, he was at the opposite corner of the structure. “I don’t see anyone else inside.”
“Move back to the first window and keep watch,” Foster said.
“Roger,” Robinson said. After a few moments he reported, “The man is gone. The woman and girl are still in the room.”
“I got the man in the front of the house,” said Foster.
Cummings left the high-powered radio with Foster before he moved out with Robinson. Foster grabbed the radio and called the BoDex monitoring center. Hector Valdez answered. “Put the General on,” Foster ordered.
General Calhoun Attwood’s voice came through the headset. “This is Attwood. What’s the status?”
“Sir, we have verified the girl’s presence inside the resort along with one man and one woman. We have the property surrounded,” Foster said.
“Fine, Sergeant. No contact, if possible. I will relay your information to the relief team. Anything else?”
“Yes, sir. We have lost Alpha and Charlie. My best tracker reports the trail just ended. Once the relief team arrives we can resume the search, sir.”
A slight hesitation. “Sergeant Foster, that will be up to the head of the relief team. They should be at your location soon.”
“Yes, sir,” Foster replied. “Where is the relief team from?”
“That is of no concern to you, Sergeant. The commander’s name is Black. You will carry out his orders. No questions, no hesitation. Do you understand?”
Foster was not comfortable with this, but being career military, he replied as he had been trained to. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”
“Very good, Sergeant.” The radio went quiet. This might be turning into one hell of a mess, Foster thought, and the day was still young.
General Attwood turned to Hector Valdez. “Get me Black.”
Seconds later, Valdez said, “Go ahead, sir.”
“Black? This is General Attwood. Be advised that Foster’s team has surrounded a nearby resort and verified the target is inside with two civilians. I have instructed them to follow your orders without question.”
“Very good, General,” Black said. “We should be there soon. Once we have that situation under control we will continue our search for the Centurions.”
“Be aware Foster’s team has lost contact with Alpha and Charlie.”
“Seems strange that we lost ours and they lost theirs. How are these things learning to evade us?”
“I...I don’t know,” Attwood said.
“I expect an answer as soon as possible.”
Such arrogance, thought Attwood, his grip on the microphone almost strong enough to crush it. “Do you need anything else?”
“No.” The radio went silent.
Attwood tossed the microphone roughly on the desk and stormed out. If I don’t kill that bastard with my bare hands it will be a miracle.
He left for the infirmary. Maybe he could get answers on the Centurions’ behavior from Nichols. Part of him hoped the Centurions would tear through Black’s team like a runaway buzz saw.
General Attwood walked slowly. He remembered when this was nothing but an abandoned Cold War era missile silo in the mountains. He had dedicated so much effort into turning it into the innovative research facility it had eventually become, but in just one day, his magnificent empire was collapsing around him.
He pushed open the infirmary door. “Hello?”
“Hold on,” came a voice, then Dr. Julia Talbot’s head popped into view. “Can I help you, General?”
“Yes, doctor. I want to check on the men that were injured earlier today. And also on Jonathan Nichols.”
Julia Talbot stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. “This way, General.”
General Attwood recognized Tony Bascombe in the first hospital bed, then Jonathan Nichols, and the last bed, he assumed, was occupied by Derek Dufresne. Dufresne’s face was not visible, nor was most of his body. Dr. Julia Talbot stood over Dufresne, arms folded.
“Problem, doctor?” said Attwood.
“Yes, General. I do have a problem. This man,” she nodded toward Dufresne, “should have been moved to a critical care unit as soon as he was brought in. You could have flown him out in your precious helicopter.”
“Doctor, let me explain something. He knew the risks of his job and he accepted them. This is a matter of national security. I don’t expect you to understand that, but I do expect you to be a professional and accept that.”
“So we just sit here and watch him die? How is that a matter of national security?”
“Let me explain it another way.” Attwood’s voice rose. “This is my facility and I control everything that happens here. Everything! I give the orders and everybody else jumps, including you. I do not answer your questions, you obey my orders. If you have a problem with that, I can have security lock you in a closet somewhere.” He thought of the Reapers and lowered his voice. “Or I can make you go away altogether.”
Talbot said nothing.
“Now get out of here. I have to speak with Nichols about some classified information.” Julia Talbot stormed out of the room.
Attwood stood by Nichols’s bed. “Jonathan.” No response. “Jonathan, this is General Attwood. Can you hear me?” Attwood shook the man’s shoulder. “Nichols! Wake up!”
Nichols’s eyelids fluttered open, but he just stared at the ceiling, not uttering a word. “Nichols! Answer me!”
“He can’t hear you.” Talbot stood in the doorway. “He’s in deep shock.”
“Can you give him something to snap him out of it?”
“There’s nothing I can do. He needs psychiatric help. Your friends really did a number on him.”
Attwood stood tall. “You’re useless! Go count Band-Aids or something! Get out of my sight.” Attwood heard the door slam as Talbot left the infirmary.
“Sir...” a hushed voice said.
“Jonathan! Did you say something?”
“Sir, here...”
The whispered words came from Tony Bascombe in the next bed.
“What is it, son?” the general asked.
“Sir...the Centurions...something you need to...know.” Bascombe struggled through the haze of sedation.
Attwood pulled a chair up to Bascombe’s bedside. “What do I need to know?”
“Nichols...was messing with...water.”
Attwood was baffled. Nichols was messing with...water? “What water?”
“Need...water.”
Attwood grabbed a cup of water off the side table and directed the straw into Bascombe’s mouth. The injured man took a long drink, then settled his head back onto the pillow.
“Tell me what Nichols was doing,” Attwood said.
“He was changing...their meds. Made them more attentive. But also...more...violent.”
That sonofabitch Nichols! That explained the chaotic attacks by the Centurions.
“And...” Bascombe’s breathing became heavier as he slipped into sleep.
“Tony!” Attwood shook the man gently.
“Is everything okay, General?” A young man in a white tunic with a stethoscope draped around his neck stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir. Doctor Talbot had to leave but asked me to stay here in case you needed anything.”
“No. Everything’s fine. I’ll call if I need you.”
“Yes, sir,” the medical assistant said.
Attwood nudged Bascombe. “Tony, please tell me about Nichols and the meds.”
Bascombe’s eyes opened. “Thirsty...”
Attwood gave him a drink. “Come on, Tony. Tell me what Nichols did. Time is running out.”
“Nichols screwed with...the meds.”
“I know! Tell me what he did to them!”
“I…don’t know...but whatever he did...they were starting to make...decisions...on their own. Without the original meds...they will not be...controllable.”
General Attwood sat bolt upright. If this was true, then the longer the Centurions were on their own, the more they would act independently. By the time their last doses wore off, the Centurions could be no better than wild animals.
Bascombe was now unconscious, his breathing labored. Attwood headed for the front door. He needed to get word to Foster and Black. The danger had risen to a new level.
He took one last look at the three men lying in hospital beds, then thought about the four trainers and two trespassers already killed. Attwood rushed back to the monitoring center.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Sara asked.
“Huh? Oh, I thought I saw something outside.” Jack turned away from the window. “How’s she doing?”
“Same. I don’t think she’s hurt, she’s just...well, out of it.” Sara checked their cell phones and laptop. Still no reception. “If we can’t get through to Sheriff Jarvis soon maybe you should drive to Eagle’s Notch before it gets dark. We could even take her there.”
“You’re the medical expert,” Jack replied. “Whatever you think is best.”
Sara pulled back the curtain to peer outside. “Still plenty of daylight. We can wait to decide.”
The scents were mingling, confusing. Still, Alpha was getting better at picking them up, even from long distances.
Friend…friend...friend.
The ones who taught him...many things...that were now becoming clear. And he remembered them attacking him. He was taught to destroy all who attacked him. Why had they attacked him?
There was another smell. It was the ones like him. His kind. They were close. He growled at Charlie, the other Centurion, curiously picking berries off a bush and popping them into his mouth. Alpha growled at Charlie again, then walked off. Charlie fell in behind Alpha. They plodded on in the direction of the ones like them.
Jack stepped onto the front porch and held the phones over his head. Still no signal. He walked back into the lobby and locked the door behind him. “We’ve never been without a signal this long.”
“Maybe we should take her to Eagle’s Notch,” Sara said. “Even if she doesn’t need a doctor, someone has to be looking for her.” Sara walked into the owner’s suite. The young girl slept soundly, snuggled up to the teddy bear. Sara laid out a warm blanket to wrap her in.
Jack grabbed a few bottles of water and tucked the first aid kit under his arm. He opened the SUV’s rear passenger door, tossed the water and first aid kit in, then worked the latch that reclined the rear seatback.
/> “I think they’re getting ready to move her,” Robinson radioed to Foster.
“Hold your position, Robinson. What have you got, Mitchell?”
“I got the male putting stuff inside the vehicle.”
They’re getting ready to pull out. Foster had to keep them here until the relief team arrived. “Everybody, sit tight,” he radioed to the entire team. “I’m going to make contact.”
“Sean, you think that’s a good idea?” Vincenzo asked. “We were supposed to be invisible.”
“We don’t have any alternatives.” Foster crossed the gravel parking area, and approached the man at the SUV.
The high-pitched scream split the air. Jack jumped, slamming his head against the top of the rear doorframe. “Sonofabitch!” A man in camouflage strode toward him.
“Sir,” the stranger said, “I need to speak with you.”
Who is this guy? A hunter? Carrying an assault rifle? Jack noticed the pistol on the man’s belt. What the hell?
“Sir, please, I need to speak with you.”
The young girl screamed again. Sara! Jack rushed into the resort and found Sara cradling the girl, who shook and sobbed uncontrollably. “We’re okay, Jack. Get that thing out of here.” She nodded at the teddy bear on the floor.
“This?” He nudged the bear with his toe.
“Yes! Get it out of sight right now!”
Jack picked up the stuffed bear and walked into the lobby. He found himself face to face with the stranger again, rifle in his hands.
“Who the hell are you?” Jack demanded. He dropped the stuffed animal and kicked it behind the check-in counter.
The man held up his hand, signaling Jack to stay put. “Sir, like I said, I just need to speak with you. It’s about the girl.”
“What about the girl?” Jack asked. “And you still haven’t told me who you are.”
The Devil's Claw Page 13