“I suppose we should go and check, see what’s going on… I’ll go with a few men… Gunny, Jack, Fabio…” He called their names and the three men nodded in agreement, turned around to get their horses, checking their weapons and gear on the way. “In the meantime,” he told Malcolm, “move our people away from the open, and find some hideout, and wait to hear from us. Get a couple of guys to the top of that hill and give a weapon to all those able to carry one. No fires and no noise… keep the kids quiet, and the horses. Nobody is allowed to move or sneeze until we know what’s going on. I’ll see you shortly. Go!”
“Aye-aye!” Malcolm made the signal and the whole camp followed him into the forest. Presley watched them vanish in the thickets.
Hope was standing beside him. He turned to her and saw her worried expression. Professor stood next to her.
“Any thoughts, Professor?”
“I don’t know… something must be terribly wrong… I can’t say I was expecting something like this to happen. Be really careful, though.”
“Do you have to go?” asked Hope, with worry all over her face.
“I do,” he said calmly, looking her straight in the eyes. She realized her mistake and composed her worried expression to an apologetic smile.
“Of course you do. Come back to me,” she kissed her fingers and touched his lips, then hurried after the crowd.
“Maybe I should go along?”
“No, Professor. I’ll send for you, if I need you there, once I know the situation.” Presley mounted his horse and galloped with the three men following him closely.
They took the road heading southwest, until they saw smoke rising above the low hilltops covered by the forest. They stopped and listened. They could hear sporadic gunshots and occasional rattle of assault–rifles. Presley turned his horse towards the forest, the others followed. When he couldn’t see the road any more he dismounted and tied his horse’s rein to a tree branch. The others did the same.
“Jack, you will stay with the horses. We are going to continue on foot. I suspect that if we climb over that hill, we might be able to finally see what is going on. So, just wait for us.”
The three of them advanced slowly, over rough, mostly muddy, but still in some places ice and snow covered terrain, meandering between tall dead trees and huge boulders, to the top of the rise, every moment expecting to see the place from where the havoc was coming, approaching carefully, trying to stay undetected should they stumble upon some hostiles. As they got closer to the summit, the noise got louder and louder, but they couldn’t see a thing, except more trees and stones standing on top another hill. They had to continue downwards on the other side, slowly, quietly, until they got to the foot of the hill and the canyon of the partly frozen river. The river was not very wide but it looked deep. A couple hundred yards downstream they saw a simple stone bridge. Presley assumed it was the same road they would use if they continued their march that morning. They crept towards it through dense, but mostly dried growth, stopping every now and then, to listen. They came close, and laid on the flat plateau above the road, masked with some evergreen shrubs that were not quite dead. For the moment it was absolutely quiet. They looked around on both sides of the bridge, trying to detect movement or discover a watch post, as they assumed a high probability someone was assigned to watch the crossing. For a long while they lay motionless and quiet, but saw and heard nothing.
“There is no one here,” said Gunny, known for his sharp eyes. “I think it is safe to cross.”
“Hard to say,” Presley replied, believing Gunny could detect any movement or noise but wanting to be totally certain. “I guess we should follow the drill, go over and look around… If we stay low hopefully no one will see us even if there is someone watching that bridge. Put your silencer on and keep the other side in check. Two of us will go across the bridge and look around. Wait until we call you. Let’s go!”
Presley and Fabio went down the slope, moving slowly and quietly, keeping their heads low. They climbed up the embankment and inched against the low parapet on the bridge, their guns at the ready, crawling across to the opposite side of the river. Gunny watched them disappear in the bushes. He kept his gun pointed on the road and the bridge, watching through the scope, listening. But, nothing happened until he saw Fabio climb up the road, giving him a sign to come along.
The trees were even denser on the opposite bank, leafless yet dense branches arched and almost touching above the road. They walked abreast, parallel to the pavement, hidden by the bushes, taking the path made by the animals.
They had to climb another hill before they saw a small town nestled in the valley. From their elevated position they finally saw what was going on. A dozen or more men stood behind the walls of ruined houses or tree trunks or car wrecks, surrounding a large brick building at the central town square, probably a town–hall or a bank, occasionally firing their guns. Several bodies were visible, laying on the ground, awkwardly twisted, probably the casualties of previous attempts, too close to the building to be pulled away. Further out, in the middle of the town park, a large number of men sat around several big fires. Presley roughly counted fifty to sixty men. It was obvious that the building in the center of the town was under siege. Only now and then a shot was fired somewhere from the edifice, but those who were standing around, shielded behind the obstacles, paid almost no attention. A shiver ran down Presley’s spine. It reminded him of something he did not miss remembering. It was fairly far away and not even Gunny could see the faces of the assailants with a naked eye. He and Presley used their scopes almost at the same time, and then glanced at each other, and turned to Fabio, astonished.
“Pongos!”
That explained their leisurely demeanour and lack of caution.
“Are we going to do something? Are we going to engage those beasts?” asked Gunny.
“Let me think…” Presley wondered who are the people trapped in that building? Are they worth saving? They may be just another antagonized group of monsters. Does it matter? They have to pass through here and they can do that only after they get rid of the hybrids. Even if they circumvent the valley he would not feel safe knowing they have a large horde of hybrids behind their backs. So, they had to organize an attack and destroy the nemesis, in any case.
He focused his gaze back to the park, covered with butchered tree trunks and dilapidated structures, observing a large group of Pongos, sitting around, loathing, fighting amongst each other, unconcerned with their surroundings. There were several fires going, but he concentrated his attention to the one they used for cooking. They were grilling some big game mounted over a spit roast. He feared these southern Pongos developed a taste for human flesh as their northern counterparts, wondering if he could, from this distance, tell an animal from a human corpse. He couldn’t, not even through the scope. But the fact that, just by their sheer number, they could easily overcome the hostages inside the house, and were not, gave him a chilling assumption that they were in fact, only preventing those people from escaping, so they could use them for fresh meat just as they would with livestock.
“Fabio, go back to our camp… Tell Mike what’s going on and ask him to bring over two dozen of men in full gear. Once you’re back here, keep them hidden in that ravine and bring over just the lieutenants.”
Fabio nodded dutifully and rushed away.
The valley was flat as a pan, about a mile wide and surrounded by hills, covered in trees, from all sides except to the south. The river, probably the same one they crossed earlier, ran through the town, cutting into the base of the hills, and a little further, flowing straight through the valley and disappearing to the south–west. Presley saw another bridge to their left and the road that led to the town’s main street. The distance from where they stood to the town center was about three hundred yards by air, an ideal distance for a good sharp shooter. Presley anticipated the advantages of the terrain. They should spread to the left and right over the hills, and concentrate a few
good men by the bridge, in case the Pongos tried to undertake a counter–attack. Their position worked to their advantage and combined with the element of surprise, they had a chance to cause a lot of initial damage. But, from experience, he knew it would not be enough to survive. After the first shock, the Pongos would consolidate and regroup for a long standoff. He wondered if he should send a few of his men across the bridge, to secure it from both sides, so they would not have to fight for it, once they got ready for the final strike. He looked around, trying to figure out where his men could hide and wait for his signal to attack. But he dropped the idea. The terrain was totally flat, non–defendable. Across the river there was nothing but barren grassland. They had to stay on this side of the river, until they killed or incapacitated the majority of the beasts.
He noticed a change of attitude among the Pongos. They were ready for a new assault. They began moving toward the house, jumping from cover to cover, shooting. Whoever was inside the building did not react immediately. For a moment, Presley was worried the defenders ran out of ammunition, until he saw one Pongo drop down, wounded. He thought those who defended the hall were willing to sell their skin for high, finding some comfort in the manner they were executing their defence. But numbers were in favour of the hybrids. They were closing in. It was, Presley knew, just a game for beasts, a sport. They were playing with their prey, like a cat plays with a mouse, until got grows bored. Or hungry? Presley hoped that moment did not yet come. Based on the weak response from the citadel, he suspected they either intended only to shoot to kill; or they were, in fact, short on ammo, or guns, or manpower. The Pongos went on with their attack, from all sides, simultaneously, and with a blast of fire. They were slowly closing in. Gunny lifted his sniper and shot a big Pongo that came close to the building and then picked up another target. His rifle hissed again, silencer disguising the sound.
“Stop! Don’t do that. They might realize we are here. We have to wait for our men to arrive.”
“Yes, boss. I just can’t help it.”
“Then take only those closest to us, those that are behind all the others, so they won’t notice us.”
“I hate these spooks so bad. So–o bad.”
He pulled his trigger and another hybrid fell to his face. Shots fired from the house, killed a few more. After a while, the Pongos retreated to their starting positions, laughing and barking swears. Whoever created them did not care to make them capable for any emotion. They did not have any concept of mercy or remorse, nor fear from death. Once they lost their human commanders, they went on with killing, but became shambolic, simply good at killing those who were defenceless or caught by surprise. Otherwise they were dangerous only if present in big numbers. Like they were right now. Yet, it didn’t mean it was easy to kill them. When in danger, Presley knew only too well, they acted like any wild beast, fighting to survive.
Chapter XVI
Presley looked through the scope, pointing to the house windows, trying to see inside, to determine if there were humans or other hybrids. But, the interior was dark and he could not see.
He heard a noise behind him. It was Fabio, Malcolm and Professor Tagore, with three other men. They dropped next to him peeking over the edge of the cliff, taking the situation in.
“Well, I’ll be… what do you say now Professor?” Malcolm grunted. “Obviously they didn’t all die out.”
“So they are Pongos, all right. I couldn’t believe it when Fabio told us. I had to see it with my own eyes. Well, I’m not sure. It must be that at least one contingence, probably prior to our sabotage, went out with a full lifespan. Or Ammabussa’s scientists blew our diversion. I can tell for certain only once I examine one of them. They all have a bar code tattooed on their necks.”
“Well, you’ll have to wait for that, Professor. First we have to kill them, and you know how easy that is.”
Soon after Presley explained his plan to Malcolm and the others, they dispersed. Five men took a position above the bridge, scattered on and around a stony knoll, to act as support to Presley’s group, which would eventually try to reach the hall. The others went afar, in both directions, creating a semicircle and flanking the town. Malcolm went the furthest, taking eight men with him. Presley ordered him to walk all the way around and approach the town from the east, and get as close as he dared to the Pongos lodging in the park. This took some time as Malcolm and his men had to walk back to the upstream bridge and skirt half way around the valley. Malcolm’s group was to act only if the Pongos from the park attempted to flank Presley from that side. Otherwise, if the Pongos decided to counter the frontal attack, they should silently close the void behind them, giving them no route to escape.
An hour later Presley believed they were all in position and ready, the rest of the men awaiting his signal.
Presley decided to wait for the Pongos’ to attack the Town Hall again, before giving a command for coordinated fire. And even then only those with suppressors on their long range guns were to shoot and concentrate their fire solely at the Pongos surrounding the house, hoping the hybrids in the park would not immediately be alarmed or, at least, not before they eliminated the majority of the Pongos nearest to them.
And as if in a queue, the Pongos began their assault. Presley lifted his sniper rifle, pointed at the bulk of a huge beast, and pulled the trigger. The hybrid fell on his face. Immediately after, Gunny took down another beast. Then, the rest of the men, from both left and right flanks, did the same. The action was fast and well executed. Some two-dozen Pongos were taken down in only a couple of minutes. Presley scanned the area to detect any wounded hybrids, to shoot before they had a chance to warn those in the park. He did not see any movement. Then he looked to the park. There were no signs of alarm.
“Let’s go, Gunny! We have to take that building.”
He tied up a white piece of cloth to the barrel of his sniper and ran down the slope towards the bridge. Gunny and the others followed him. When they reached the bridge, Presley ordered the sharp shooter to stay behind and cover them, if necessary.
They ran down the road, straight towards the town. He hoped the people in the house would see them and understand they were allies and that their intention was to help. Their advance was hidden from the sight of the hybrids situated in the park, by the buildings and trees between them. But they did not try to hide from those who barricaded themselves in the Hall, even though they were prepared to scramble for cover should they decide to shoot. Yet, no one fired at them. They closed the distance very fast and, soon, climbed the wide staircase at the front entrance of the building. The heavy, two–winged oak door was shut and barricaded by debris.
Presley knocked lightly at the wood with the butt of his rifle. Nothing happened. He knocked again a little louder. Nothing. Gunny tried to peer through the small tiffany window strip at the door but his view was blocked by something or, it was totally dark inside. Presley thought he caught the glimpse of somebody passing beside that little strip of coloured glass.
“Open up, or we’ll have to blow the door up!”
Then, for a brief moment, the tip of a gun barrel, followed by the face of a dark–skinned teenage girl, peered through the broken window from a floor above them and to the left.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“We are friends!” Presley answered.
“Go away!”
“We came to help! You saw what we did to the goons. Open up and let us in? It’s not so good to be exposed like this for much longer.”
There was silence again, but after a few moments they heard some clatter behind the door and then, it opened just enough for someone inside to take a peek. Presley was losing his patience. He had seven men with him, pressed against the walls, looking in every direction, expecting the Pongos to pop up at any second.
“Who are you?” He heard another voice, similar to that of the girl, but Presley thought it could be a young boy.
“Friends. We saw what was going on and decided to help,�
�� He said with a forced calm. “Let us in, and then we can chit–chat some more. It’s important the Pongos don’t see us.”
“You are really not going to harm us?” the boy asked, with hope and suppressed fear in his voice.
“No, we came to help. Why else would we kill all those beasts? Just… let us in, will you.”
The door opened a little wider and Presley signalled his men to go inside. Only then, with a certain level of incredulity, he noticed Professor Tagore among those who came with him, leaning against the wall, his hands on his knees, fighting for breath and eyes wide open like someone who had a hard time filling his lungs with sufficient quantity of air. He chuckled in his chest thinking: unbelievable. He went in last and shut the door behind him. It was pretty dark inside and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. His men stood left and right and in front of him were four kids, none older than sixteen. He was not surprised that there was no one older than fourteen.
“Who else is here? How many are you?” he asked.
“Twelve. There are twelve of us,” the girl from the window said. She looked about sixteen.
“So, that’s it? Nobody else? Only you; the kids?”
“There were more of us in the town, but they left just before the Pongos came.”
“How many?”
“Fifteen… sixteen, maybe.”
“Where are they?”
“Gone south.”
“Why didn’t you go along?”
“They were not from our town. They came through a month ago. And then they left.”
“You didn’t like them?”
“It’s not that. Most of them were kids like us, but there were three grown–up. Them we didn’t like. Even though they left us with almost no food before they left, I thought it’s better if we stayed behind. So we did.”
“Hmm… It turns out you were wrong.”
“So, what about Pongos?”
“They came after.”
“Do you those who left stumbled upon these Pongos?”
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