“Sir, I’m with a search team from the BoDex facility, just up the road, and we’re looking for a young girl who wandered away from a tour group and got lost. I believe you may have found her.”
“We found someone, not sure who she is though. My wife thinks she’s okay, tired and scared is all. We were getting ready to take her to Eagle’s Notch.”
“No reason to take her now that we’re here. We have our own team medic. I’ll call him in, if that’s okay?” Foster said.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not.”
“Eric, come on inside,” Foster said into his mike. “We found the missing girl.” Unbeknownst to Jack, Foster’s mike had carried their entire conversation to the rest of the team outside.
Jack knelt beside the bed. “Sara,” he said, “these guys are from that BoDex place. They’ve been looking for the girl. They’re sending in a medic.” He paused. “What happened? Why was she screaming?”
Sara rocked the girl. “She woke up and saw the,” she silently mouthed the words stuffed bear, “and it absolutely terrified her.”
Jack heard a new set of boots hurrying across the hardwood floor. A second man, also in camouflage and carrying an assault rifle and pistol, appeared at the doorway. He handed his rifle to the first man before approaching the girl.
Jack couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was bothered by the behavior of the two men. Since when did search teams in a forest wear camouflage instead of bright orange or red? Even their faces were covered in camouflage face paint. It was as if they didn’t want to be seen. And why carry such heavy-duty weapons?
“Ma’am,” the medic said politely, “I can take her now.”
The girl buried herself against Sara’s chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” said Sara. “This man is going to help you.” But the girl would not release her grip. Sara continued to hold her.
Jack and the mysterious man moved to the adjacent dining room.
“Nice place you have here.”
“It will be when we’re done renovating and it’s full of paying customers. I’m Jack MacGregor. That’s my wife Sara. I don’t believe I caught your name.”
Foster hesitated, then thought, What’s the harm? “Sergeant Sean Foster.” He extended his gloved hand. As they shook, something behind Jack caught Foster’s eye. “What do you have there?”
Foster moved toward the massive stone fireplace on the far wall of the dining room.
A shadow box hung on the wall: a weathered walnut frame surrounded a dark green layer of velvet under glass. Pinned to the velvet, in orderly rows, were numerous military medals and ribbons, along with a pair of United States Army Captain’s bars, a set of dented dog tags, and some unit patches. In the center was a tattered black and white photograph, circa World War II, of a tall thin man in full combat gear, helmet low over his eyes, unshaven face streaked in grime, Thompson submachine gun held across his chest. Broken bricks lay strewn at his feet, a devastated town smoldering in the background. A brass plaque stood under the photograph with a name inscribed.
“Impressive range of awards,” Foster said.
“He was my grandfather.”
“Looks like he saw quite a bit of action.”
“Yeah, he did,” Jack said, “but he wouldn’t speak about it.”
“Lots of veterans are like that. Hard to describe what you saw, what you did, what you felt, and you really don’t want to dredge those memories up anyway.”
“Sounds like you might have seen some combat yourself.”
“Some, but nothing like what these guys saw.”
“Funny thing is, my grandfather only spoke about one mission, and then, only when he was real old.” Jack’s mind went back in time. “When he told me, I figured he’d finally gone over the edge. It was something about his squad chasing Bigfoot through France. Can you believe it? After that, I never asked him about the war again.”
“Sounds like quite a mission,” Foster said. “After all these years there are still a lot of unknowns coming out of that war.” He thought about chasing the Centurions this very day. What were the odds, right?
“Let’s go check on the girl.” Foster took a last look at the photograph and read the name on the plaque. “Rest in peace, Captain Lawrence Patrick Newmont.”
Mitchell handed Sara a pill. “Ma’am, please see if you can get her to swallow this. It should help her relax until we arrange for transportation.”
Sara pushed the pill gently against the girl’s lips, then directed the straw into her mouth. The girl swallowed the pill.
“How is she?” Sara asked.
“She might be suffering from mild shock, which would explain why she can’t speak. Physically, I think she’s okay.”
“I assume she has a name?” Sara asked.
“Uh, I’m sure she does, ma’am,” Mitchell answered. “You’ll have to take that up with Master Sergeant Foster.”
“Who are you, my little mystery girl?” Sara asked softly, hugging the girl close.
“Jennifer,” she whispered.
“How come you guys aren’t wearing red or orange if you’re a search team?” Jack asked. “Seems like camo would be for hunting.”
Foster thought a moment. “We happened to be on the base for some classified work and since we have woodland experience, we were drafted into the search.”
They arrived at the check-in counter as the medic was leaving the owner’s suite. Foster turned to Jack. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment?” Foster hesitated. “Please stay here until I tell you it’s okay to go outside, okay? I have a few more men on the perimeter.”
Sara sat in the chair next to the bed.
“How’s it going?” Jack asked in a low voice.
“Her name is Jennifer,” Sara said.
“How do you know?”
“She whispered it after the medic left.”
“What do you think of these guys?” Jack asked.
“All I met was the medic. He was quiet, but looked like he knew his stuff. What about the other one?”
“I think he’s in charge. Just told me they were visiting that place up the road when the girl got lost and they were sent out to find her. His name is Sergeant Foster. He mentioned he had more men around the house and to stay inside.”
“You have any reason to doubt them?”
“I guess not,” Jack answered. “But don’t they seem overly secretive about searching for this girl? And that medic never even mentioned his name.”
“No, he didn’t,” Sara said. “But I never asked him.”
“Yeah, well, I still have a strange feeling about this whole thing.”
Foster issued orders to the rest of his team. “Kurt, come on up here on the front porch for Eric’s report. Relay it back to base and find out where Black is with the transportation. Sal, Dave, go back down the road and keep watch at the small bridge. Nobody in except our relief team. Bernie, stay out back.”
Foster looked at Mitchell. “She okay to travel, Eric?”
“Yeah. No injuries beyond scratches and abrasions. Depending on how soon transportation gets here, I’m guessing she’ll sleep through the entire ride.”
“Good.”
“What’s gonna happen to her?” Mitchell asked.
“Don’t know.”
“She saw the Centurions and what they did,” Mitchell persisted. “What if the General sweeps this under the rug? There’s probably a lot of money at stake. And she is a witness.” He forged ahead. “If she disappears, what happens to the couple inside this resort? They know she exists. And they would probably care enough to follow up. Not to mention they’ve seen us too.”
The same concerns had crossed Foster’s mind. A big cover-up could cost even more innocent lives. That wasn’t what he and his team had signed up for. No matter what combat situation they had found themselves in, their honor and integrity had never been casualties. Surely, General Attwood couldn’t possibly believe that covering up an accident with intentional murder would make this
mess disappear.
Foster glanced at the window where Jack MacGregor had looked out at them earlier. Jack was gone now, probably checking on his wife and the girl. Foster thought about the shadow box honoring Jack’s deceased grandfather. It will never come to that. I won’t let it.
Alpha let loose a high-pitched, whistle-like noise. The sound was eerily similar to what the trainers used to control them. Low growls came from the five creatures like him and Charlie. The new arrivals had accepted him as their leader.
Alpha shuffled in the direction of the resort. He didn’t know it was there, just that he was drawn in that direction by a familiar scent. Charlie and the other five Centurions followed in single file.
Soon, the creatures stood just inside the tree line at the edge of a dirt road, unsure of what to do next. They waited for Alpha to lead them. Alpha heard something, but could not identify the sound.
Subject J, the youngest and most recently engineered Centurion, had very little training. Out of curiosity, it charged out of the tree line into the road. When it saw the source of the noise, Subject J froze.
The Humvee carrying Black, Graham, and Williams, with Popavich at the wheel, sped toward the resort. The second Humvee transporting Collins, Everett, Becker, and Rossi followed closely.
Black sat in the front. Soon they would arrive at the resort, take possession of the girl, and erase all evidence of their presence. That is, after dismissing Attwood’s force. There were too many witnesses to this disaster as it was.
“Sonofabitch!” Popavich stood on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel hard. The heavy vehicle skidded sideways, the right tires lifting off the ground. “Did you see that?” Popavich yelled.
The Humvee barely missed Subject J. The vehicle screeched to a halt, the tires thumping back to earth, the area around them obscured by a roiling cloud of dust. Popavich struggled to get the stalled Humvee restarted. “Everybody out!” Black yelled.
Becker was at the wheel of the trailing Humvee, with Collins in the passenger seat, bragging about his latest escapade. “And then this nerdy little jerk-off pisses his pants! Of course, Black gets in my face and—”
“Watch out!” Everett screamed from the rear seat. Becker snapped his head forward. A cloud of dust blocked the road and the first Humvee was gone.
“Hold on!” Becker bellowed as he slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel, then straightened it, aiming for a wide gap between two giant pines. A long unyielding tree trunk lay on the ground hidden by foliage.
The right front wheel hit the tree trunk, launching the vehicle up in the air. The Humvee nosed into the ground, gave a half twist and came to rest on the passenger side, the men inside a jumble of arms, legs, and loose weapons.
As Black and his men rushed to help their teammates, Collins pulled himself out and stood on top of the vehicle, a foot on either side of the open doorframe, spanning the gap like the Colossus of Rhodes, MP5N in hand. Furious, he leveled his automatic weapon at Subject J, still standing dumbstruck in the road.
“Die, you hairbag bastard!” Collins let loose a murderous stream of bullets. Blossoms of red sprouted all over Subject J’s chest and arms. When the gunfire stopped, Subject J lay in a bloody heap on the road.
Collins rammed a fresh magazine into his weapon.
“What’s it look like?” Graham asked.
“The good news is no one’s dead,” Black said, “but Everett has a broken arm, Becker a fractured leg, and Rossi took a good hit to the head.”
“This baby ain’t going anywhere,” Williams yelled from the front of the Humvee. “Suspension took a major hit.”
“Collins! Take Graham and scout the area for more of those creatures. See if you can pick up a trail. And drag that carcass off the road and out of sight!” Black ordered. “Williams, get Everett and Becker comfortable until we get help. Rossi, sit down for a while to make sure you’re not injured.”
Black got on his radio and contacted the BoDex facility.
“Hold on and I’ll get General Attwood on the line,” Gerry Evans said.
“I don’t need Attwood. Now listen to what I say, understand?”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely,” Evans responded.
“There has been an accident with one of our Humvees and two of my men need medical attention. We came across one of the escaped Centurions. It has been destroyed. Now listen closely. First, you will dispatch a medical team to retrieve my injured men. Second, you will dispatch a recovery team to retrieve the damaged Humvee, the dead Centurion, and to make sure the entire area is wiped clean. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Evans responded.
Graham approached. “We dragged that...that thing off the road and dumped it in the woods. We covered it with branches.”
“Where’s Collins?” Black asked.
“He wanted to keep looking for more of them. Was hoping for some target practice.”
“That sonofabitch,” Black said. “Get back over there. I sent two men out there because I wanted two men covering each other’s asses. Tell Collins he’s to work with you as a team and if he’s got a problem with that he can take it up with me!”
Graham ran back to Collins just inside the tree line. He was happy to get away from Black. Graham could not remember a mission with Black that had this many snafus.
Alpha and the other Centurions had watched Collins kill Subject J, one of their own. When the two men in black got closer, the creatures quietly melted farther back into the shadows. The Centurions were learning how to survive on their own.
“We’re moving out,” Black announced. “BoDex is sending a med team to pick up Everett and Becker. Collins and Graham scouted the area and didn’t find any more Centurions, so I have to believe they took off when they heard the gunfire.”
“Damn straight,” Collins bragged, “and seeing one of their own get chopped up into hamburger didn’t hurt either.” The men all laughed, except Black.
Black turned to the two injured men sitting on the ground, their backs against the trunk of the same fallen tree that had disabled their Humvee. “You two should be fine until they get here.” Williams had rigged a splint and sling for Everett’s left arm and a splint for Becker’s right leg.
“We’re all set,” Becker said, slapping his submachine gun. “We’ll be waiting for you poor slobs when you get back to BoDex. Try not to stay out after dark. I hear these woods are haunted.” Again, Black found it impossible to laugh.
“The rest of you, get in the Humvee,” Black said. “Popavich, take the wheel. Once we get to the resort, our mission is to determine the level of exposure. And if necessary, take care of the girl and any other liabilities.” He glared at Collins. “No one makes a move unless I say so, understand?”
Collins raised his hands in mock surrender. “No problem here.”
The Humvee roared back onto the road. Becker and Everett reclined against the fallen tree trunk. The warble of birds was all around them, the sun shining warmly.
“You have to admit, it turned out to be a nice day for just hanging out in the woods,” Everett said.
“Yeah,” Becker agreed. “I was getting sick of running around in circles on this screw-up fest anyway.” He paused. “You know, I think maybe Black has lost his edge.”
Everett nodded. “Might be time for Collins to take over.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far. Collins is top-notch with a weapon, but his leadership leaves a hell of a lot to be desired. You got a cigarette?”
“Yeah. A whole pack in my left pocket. The very same pocket I can’t reach with my busted arm. You want them, you gotta crawl over here and get them yourself.”
“I can’t go anywhere with my leg all messed up,” Becker said. “Aw, what the hell. I been thinking about giving them up anyway.”
“Yeah, me too.” Although Everett felt like he’d kill for a smoke right now.
The Centurions watched from deep inside the cover of the forest. When they saw the Humvee leave, they ease
d silently toward the two injured men, driven by curiosity. With no medication to slow down their thoughts, the lessons they had been taught rushed into their rapidly developing minds.
Before Everett and Becker even knew they were there, the Centurions encircled them. Alpha stepped out of the foliage.
“Sweet Jesus!” Becker screamed. He groped for his MP5N. He could not take his eyes off the massive Centurion, its sharp teeth and razor-like claws exposed. Becker finally got a handhold on the weapon’s strap.
Becker’s cry jostled Everett from his daydream. His eyes locked on the nightmare. He tried desperately to get a grip on his own weapon.
Just as Becker leveled his submachine gun at Alpha and pulled the trigger, a huge hairy paw yanked the barrel upward. The automatic weapon spat out a short stream of smoking slugs straight into the air before it was pulled from his hands and sent sailing into the forest. Becker fumbled for his pistol.
Everett had finally snagged his MP5N and jerked the weapon toward him, but he pulled too hard and dislodged the magazine. It fell to the ground. Alpha howled. Everett threw the useless weapon at the Centurion. His uninjured right hand went for his sidearm, but being a lefty, his pistol was on his left hip and out of reach, just like his cigarettes had been. He tried frantically to pull his belt around just enough to get his SIG Sauer P226 in reach of his right hand, but in his heart, he knew he was already dead.
Enormous claws clamped onto the sides of Becker’s head and tore into his neck like an iron maiden slamming shut. Becker had managed to pull his SIG from its holster just before he was impaled and he was now firing blind. Blood poured from multiple puncture wounds as his bullets flew in all directions. Becker died without even having time to whimper or pray. The Centurion, Charlie, flung Becker’s body into the woods.
Everett stretched his right arm to retrieve his SIG. Alpha moved in for the kill. Everett got enough of a handhold on his SIG to almost pull it out of the holster just as the self-appointed leader of the Centurions grabbed him by his fractured leg. Everett’s tortured scream lent a strange harmony to Alpha’s ear-splitting howl.
The Devil's Claw Page 14