The Hunted

by Steve Scheunemann

  “Besides, we got Mtumbe’s sidearm, his knife, and the baton. I haven’t had much time to look at it, but I’m sure there is more to it than the capture rope he used. That alone is amazing. The wire is amazingly strong and whisker-thin. It’s actually three strands woven together. It’s so thin you can’t even see it in some light but it holds all my weight and more. I really want to play around with that thing.

  “I want to lay low and regain our strength for a few days. McLeish is still a long way off. The dogs will sniff us out eventually, but it should take them at least five days more to reach here, maybe even as many as eight. We’ll plan on five and rest for two. On the third we’ll do the dump like you wanted. The whole thing all at once, then we high tail it out of here.”

  Matt began his search for the concealed bolt hole he’d never actually seen, but had described to him by Brother Fidelis in detail more than five years before. Knowing that landmarks could change in the wilderness, Brother Fidelis had chosen things likely to last, large boulders, passes through the hills, and some few that would probably last, such as stream beds and sentinel pines.

  The stream had shifted its course a little but the old bed was still easily visible. The pine had been blasted by lightening, but its stump was impressive nonetheless. Finally locating the cave that hid the entrance, a cave that was itself well concealed, Matt had no trouble remembering the entry code. It was one word. It was something every brother understood and lived as they taught young Matt to be something better than he was. No doubt they all had lives that could have been lived differently. They chose instead to dedicate everything to raising and training a small boy, a duty which eventually killed every one of them. Their lives had not been easy or carefree, but they had believed in something bigger than themselves. They had decided that it was worth it all. The entry code was “Endure.”

  They found food. It was primarily freeze-dried, but nourishing nonetheless. They found clothing and plenty of water. There was even a large stash of hunting ammunition. Unfortunately, the ammunition was all 30.06 caliber and so useless in the rifle they had. The communications gear seemed to be in perfect working order, but they would not power it up until they were ready to use it. The room was small, but it held three bunks and facilities for washing. There were medical supplies, which included stimulants that would help a normal human improve their performance physically. They were addictive and would not cause the user to approach the levels attainable by a Hunter. Still, if it ever came to a fight, the theory was every little bit helped. They had, no doubt, taken the same drugs at the monastery. It hadn’t helped.

  They wouldn’t need them, so they were discarded, but all the useful items were made up into two packs, which were always kept ready to go. They knew they needed to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. The BGP would not call ahead. Matt believed they were safe here for several days at least, and Abbey tended to agree, but neither of them felt like taking any chances.

  31

  July 4th, 2080

  Christchurch, New Zealand

  “The Silent Heart comm center has been accessed.”

  “What? That’s been a dead cell for at least five years now.”

  General MacDougal merely raised one eyebrow at Colonel Vicki Rawlson. “Vic, think about it. Who would know about it, who would have the access codes? Who would desperately need a safe place to hide out right now? And finally, who might be looking for a safe place to do another dump of the “Angus Chronicles?”

  “Matt. I should have seen it myself. He grew up there. He’d feel safe there. We already know that he or the girl, probably both, took out Mtumbe. Even the BGP can’t help but gossip when one of their own is dispatched so effectively. One contusion behind the ear, not serious, and a single knife thrust at the base of the neck. Mtumbe was no slouch according to the records. One of the best even in the BGP. They probably suckered him in, depending on that fact to make him arrogant. I mean arrogant even for a Hunter, they’re all arrogant as hell, but this guy figured he was facing a rookie Hunter and some gene trash. No doubt our good friend Malone warned him to be careful, but how could he credit it?”

  “Well, taking out Mtumbe may have slowed the tracking, but based on the intelligence we’re getting they are still working towards the right location,” replied the normally taciturn General.

  “The question is, Sir, what are we going to do? The BGP will find them. They may think they are safe there, but they aren’t. Those damn hounds aren’t real efficient trackers, but they will work out the trail. They will follow every blind trail, every loop back, every false start all the way til the end. They aren’t quick, but they are persistent. The New Zealand Great Hound is a better breed, but not all that much. Ours are smarter, and as such better trackers. They are also faster with better endurance, but theirs are big mean nasty brutes that will keep fighting for a week after taking their last breath.”

  “A submarine extract from Japan, with Angus to do the introductions was one thing, Vic, what you’re asking is suicide.”

  “When we rescued Angus all those years ago, you were on the beta team. You were there ready to step in and spend your life, if Malone had managed to get through Alpha and on to the same train as Angus. Why?”

  “Because having a deserter from the military join our cause, someone who had all their conditioning and indoctrination, and was still able to see the truth was more important than any of our lives. Angus was a symbol as much as he was an asset in and of himself. He proved to be one of the best field operatives we’ve ever had, but he was so much more simply for being who he was. Matt is not that kind of symbol. He’s worth a lot for what he can do for us, but even Angus said he was too angry to fit in to the team we have in mind.”

  “Angus also died so this boy might live. You know what my past with Angus was. You know that we still loved each other and had an unspoken assumption that when our days of fieldwork were behind us we would rediscover our relationship. You also know me well enough to know that there is no way that I would let those feelings, or the obvious love Angus had for Matt cloud my thinking. But what I can’t help thinking is this, Angus died so that Matt could escape. If ten men died to bring Angus over, and Angus died to save Matt, how many lives is it worth to save Matt? Can we afford to put a number on it, Sir? You know I never needlessly risk the lives of my people. In fact I’ve been chewed out, by you, for being too much of a mother hen. I don’t want to throw lives away. I want to come up with a viable plan to get him out. The girl too, if we can, but we need Matt. Besides, in telling Angus’ story he has become as much a symbol as Angus ever was.”

  “Colonel Rawlson, it better be one smokin’ hot plan. I don’t want a cowboy show. I want your plan in 12 hours. I want to know how you’re going to get that far into the interior, and snatch him away from the kind of assets Malone will be deploying. We know he already has three Hunters in the search, plus whatever local assets there are, and after Mtumbe’s death, I expect Malone himself may take a personal hand in it all. Keep in mind to that there is no way you can move assets from here to there in time to get it done, so you can forget your go team here.”

  “Thank you, Sir. I’ll have something for you in eight hours, that way you can help me fine tune it.”

  “Vic, I want it to work. I think you’re right, Matt could be worth it all. He could be the key we need to make a real difference. I just hope that we can get past the anger that Angus so feared. He’s been through an awful lot for one so young. Angus felt like he was making some headway, but also feared that stubborn streak in the boy. He was hell bent for revenge. Angus’ death means he no longer has that stabilizing influence in his life. It also means we no longer have that window into his thinking. He may well be burning with a need for revenge. We’ll make our plans and if we can see a way to do it, we’ll give it a try. We’ll try because he may be worth it, but I want you to prepare yourself for the fact that he may also be no good to us. We can’t use an out of control killer. The way he took o
ut Mtumbe tells me how deadly he is. If that kind of ability is motivated by anger and revenge, then we’ve wasted the lives of anyone we send. On that note, Colonel Rawlson, I want volunteers only for this one.”

  Vicki Rawlson knew that the General would stick to that command so, despite how it would complicate the planning and hamper the execution of her plans, she didn’t even try to argue. She did refuse to admit the possibility that Matt might be lost to them. Angus had believed strongly in the core of goodness that he said was in Matt. Vicki would have to rescue him and then make sure that that goodness came to light.

  32

  July 6, 2080

  Near the Silent Heart Monastery, North American Territory

  Good food and rest had left Matt and Abbey much restored. They were both still underweight, but the damage to internal organs had stopped. Their eyes were no longer yellow, and the scent of decay had left their breath. Those had been outward signs of their bodies’ attack on themselves, but more subtle than that had been the grim determination that had overtaken them both as they looked in each other’s eyes and took stock of the damage being done to the other.

  Matt had spent a few hours exploring the baton they had taken from Mtumbe. It was a really amazing tool and he was beginning to practice with it. More importantly, he was thinking about ways to counter it. He’d already figured out that the single strand wire could and would remove a limb if enough pressure was applied to the wire. Enough pressure being defined as not much at all. He’d severed several tree limbs in his experiments and determined that as thin and strong as the wire was, it would cut through damn near anything. Its limiting factor was the weighted end. The wire had almost no weight, so without the force imparted by the weight at the end being swung hard, it would not cut deep. It was fantastic at delivering superficial cuts, but removing a limb required getting the weight to wrap around the arm or leg and over itself, locking the limb in a tightening noose. The technique took considerable practice just to hook a stationary tree limb.

  Mtumbe had done a neat job with the three strand woven capture wire, so Matt had no doubt that the rest of Malone’s team would prove effective with the new tool. Matt had some ideas about neutralizing the advantages of the thing. He’d already fabricated a sort of armor for both himself and Abbey sewn it into their clothing. There were thin flexsteel strips running the length of the arm from shoulder to elbow and from elbow to wrist as well as a high, stiff collar reminiscent of those worn by the old United States Marines in their dress uniform. It was fitting since that collar had been a traditional nod to the leather collars earlier Marines had worn to protect their necks from sword slashes. In this case Matt had added a modification. Each end of the flexsteel strips had been bent into a small hook. So small it could not even be seen it was nonetheless more than sufficient to snag the wire, even the three-strand wire. This would prevent it from slipping up or down over the armor and then severing an arm at the shoulder, elbow or wrist. A similar setup for the legs left Matt feeling better about facing Hunters armed with this thing. It would still require disentangling as soon as possible. Even the flexsteel would not hold long if sufficient pressure was applied.

  He insisted that they both wear it at all times. It wasn’t too bad since the flexsteel was actually a lightweight alloy that was flexible without giving up the strength of traditional steel. Not the miracle alloy the wire was made of, but still good stuff and, more importantly, available.

  Today would be the day they dumped the rest of the ‘Angus Chronicles’. They had done some passive searching of the nets over the past two days and had come across something called the ‘Angus Companion.’

  The ‘Companion’ told the tale of a man who somehow, despite genetic tampering and conditioning that had literally started in the womb, was able to see that human beings deserved more. That there was a basic dignity to all people and that the government did not have the right to breed people for its own ends. It told the tale of a man who defected from the military, after a harrowing escape to New Zealand, and then threw himself back into the outside world time after time to take on dangerous missions. Simply being a military deserter had landed him on the most wanted list. His exploits on behalf of the resistance had driven him to the top of the list, making him the single most hunted human being in history. A hero in the small island nation, he could have lived a life of ease and merely taught others. This, in fact, was something he’d been ordered to do time and time again. He always found some way to get back into the field, into the most dangerous missions the NZMC had. It was while reading the ‘Companion’ that Matt learned his friend was actually a colonel in the New Zealand Marine Corps. He saw that the author was another Marine colonel named Rawlson, and it was clear that this other Marine had been through some pretty hairy stuff with Angus.

  Matt felt certain it was all true, and his respect for Angus grew ever higher as he read it. His anger at the BGP also climbed ever higher. He wanted to honor all that Angus had stood for while simultaneously killing every Hunter alive. It was a paradox not lost on him. Angus and Abbey had each broken conditioning. They might be the only one in their respective generations, but that didn’t matter, it only proved what was possible.

  “Is everything ready?” Matt asked Abbey as she connected her PDT to the uplink.

  “Yep. Bags packed, escape route planned, we’ve eaten, but not too heavy, relieved ourselves, we have two BGP sidearms, the 7mm, two decent knives, and the baton all on our persons and loaded. The sun will be rising in the eyes of anyone coming from the direction we expect pursuit to come from. Not to mention all the nasty surprises we left along the trail. I can’t think of anything we could have done that we haven’t”

  “Me, neither. Let’s do it and hit the trail.”

  As Abbey turned to press the send button on her PDT, Matt stopped her. Silently he turned her around and gently kissed her lips, her eyelids, her forehead. She slid her arms around him and squeezed tightly. For a time they just stood there, Abbey with her head on Matt’s chest, Matt with his cheek resting on the top of her head.

  As Matt finally released her, Abbey hit the transmit key and the remainder of the ‘Angus Chronicles’ was released to the world. Aware that transmitting from her PDT instantly notified Malone of their location, and that, unlike when they’d done it from the island, this time he already had assets nearby to intercept them, they were instantly moving. Once out the door, Matt re-keyed the locks and booby traps. If they could get away from here fast enough and cover their tracks well enough, then the BGP might waste a little time believing they had instead tried to lock themselves in. The hideout was extremely secure and had its own self-contained ventilation system, plus tons of supplies. Had they chosen to they could have held out in there indefinitely, or at least until the BGP brought in a lot of heavy equipment to dig them out. Matt had slaved many of the controls to his own PDT, one that the BGP could not monitor. This would allow them to at least attempt to create the illusion that they were inside and might delay pursuit long enough for them to once again escape.

  The area in front of the door was solid rock and so they left no tracks as they very carefully replaced the camouflage in a manner consistent with it having been done by someone on their way in to the bunker. Within ten feet of the now hidden doorway they came across ground that would take tracks. The BGP’s new toy provided a ready means of crossing that ground. Using the capture wire, Matt snagged a tree limb and they both swung to a nearby boulder. By repeating this process no less than five times they were able to reach the nearby stream. Walking in the water, their feet and legs to the knees were soon soaked and numb. The water came from springs and snowmelt and was just barely warmer than ice. If they stayed in it too long they would risk damage from the biting cold. They moved downstream for about a quarter of a mile and climbed out onto a rock covered slope. Climbing quickly into the forest of house-sized boulders that covered this slope of the mountain, Matt became lost in memories of his childhood in these mountain
s. He remembered the Abbot, a bear of a man with his huge black beard and shaven pate. How the man was always so stern, yet somehow never intimidating to the small boy being raised amidst the mostly silent men. Their vow of silence was broken only to instruct Matt. Several of the brothers had taken to teaching Matt at every opportunity.

  Mostly, though, he remembered one man. Brother Fidelis. Fidelis had been his father in all but biology. He had raised him from infancy. Long before any other monk aided in his learning, Fidelis had been there. Although Matt could not remember it, it had been Fidelis who had stretched out his arms to catch Matt after he took his first few tottering steps. It had been Fidelis who helped him form his first words.

  The route they would take would lead past the monastery, or whatever was left of it. Matt was pretty sure he did not want to see it, but if not why had he chosen this particular route out of the mountains? There were a half-dozen routes that would serve as well. In fact, some of them offered more cover and more alternatives further along the route. He told himself that since this was not the obvious best route, it would be a less likely first place for the search to begin, if they managed to hide their initial escape. There was no way the BGP could know of his past connection to the place, even if they thought about the former occupants and their ‘resistance’. Then again, since Matt had used the bunker, and while it was quite a distance from the monastery, it was still a walkable distance, maybe they would put it all together, but only after the fact.

  As the monastery became visible through the trees and boulders, Matt was surprised at how little damage he saw. The brothers had been well versed in the combat arts. Maybe they were not up to one-on-one battles with Hunters, but this had been their home turf and they would know better than to engage Hunters at even odds. Matt had expected devastation and ruin. He saw a few broken windows and several doors smashed off their hinges, but little more to indicate the violence that had occurred in Matt’s former home.