The Living Hunger

by Dennis F. Larsen

  “Mel wanted us to help her,” Cory lied.

  “You sure?” the guard asked, adjusting the holster at her hip.

  “Yeah, we were supposed to meet her outside. Which way did she go?” Clayton questioned.

  The trusting sentry pointed her thumb down the hallway to the west and went back to the job of cleaning her gun. C&C moved quickly, but quietly, after the medic. At the end of the long corridor they pushed open the heavy door, pressing on the horizontal bar that released the lock, and stepped outside. Darkness encompassed them as the door slowly closed. The two looked at each other, then in all possible directions, with no sign of the stealthy female. Clayton caught his buddy’s attention and shrugged before motioning down the nearest sidewalk. Cory followed, squinting into the darkness, with his right hand on the 9mm, slung low and heavy on his right thigh.

  Twenty feet down the concrete pathway, the two were accosted by a dark figure jumping from the shadows and thrusting a double-edged blade against Clayton’s throat. Cory spun away from his troubled friend, drawing the pistol as he did. The assailant pushed Clayton away, kicked him in the buttocks for good measure, and sent him into Cory. The boys struggled to stay on their feet, grasping and pirouetting, as if dancing.

  “You two couldn’t sneak up on a corpse,” Mel said, sliding her blade back into the sheath that was hanging at her side.

  “Holy crap Mel, I just about shot you!” Cory hissed, trying to get the gun back into the holster, his trembling hand struggling to make the connection.

  “What do you two think you’re doing?” she asked, keeping her voice low but sharp.

  Once the friends were able to regain their cool, Clayton responded, “We saw you leave and thought you could use some help. You looking for that missing sentry?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t need your help. Your white faces look like a couple of beacons. You might as well have a flashing sign around your necks. Get back to the room before you get us all in trouble.”

  “Come on Mel, we can help. Just tell us what to do,” Cory pleaded.

  “Oh . . . this is against my better judgment but . . . ” she said, taking a can of black-out from her pocket and tossing it to Cory. “Cover your hands and faces and keep it quiet. I took a look around earlier and I saw some marks near the south-side fence that were out of place. You two stay behind me, keep your eyes peeled and don’t shoot me!” she warned.

  A pair of lights, one mounted on the library’s exterior and the other on Old Main, partially illuminated The Quad, leaving the area directly adjacent to the buildings shadowed and dark. The trio moved cautiously down the walk, Mel in the lead, periodically stopping to kneel and look about. Directly below the light, angled to shoot its beam further out into the grassed area, the Major stopped in the dim illumination, ushering C&C to join her. A clump of bushes, with springtime growth filling the branches, hugged the sidewalk, making it impossible to see the building’s foundation. She pointed to some leaves scattered on the ground and a small branch that was twisted and broken. From her youth, Melanie had been trained to regard such clues, scrutinizing them for information that the average individual would simply overlook.

  “Our attacker was hiding behind these shrubs, grabbed the sentry from behind as he passed and neutralized him. Probably hit him with something heavy,” she said, pointing to a few drops of blood, dried but visible against the green of the glossy, new leaves. “I don’t think he killed him, at least not here. There’s not enough blood, but look at these.” Mel directed the two’s attention to some skid marks on the sidewalk. They were faint but unmistakable, a set of parallel gray streaks running about two feet before they suddenly disappeared. “Our guy started to drag him with the sentry’s heels sliding and creating these marks, but then the perp thought better of it and picked the guard up and carried him the rest of the way.”

  “Yeah, but where did he take him and for what purpose?” Clayton asked, his adrenalin now heightened and his voice squeaking.

  “I’m pretty sure he took him somewhere behind the chemistry building or down the slope to the highway. There has to be a breach point in the fence. I think the search today did a pretty thorough job of checking the grounds, so I don’t believe he’s still within the compound. Listen, you two get around to the library and work the fence toward the chemistry building and I’ll work from here over. Look for anything unusual at the base of the fence, he would have either cut it or bent it to give him access. Be careful!” she warned.

  “Yeah, be careful Clayton,” Cory said, as the two young men scurried around The Quad to the library, crouching and shuffling their feet underneath them in a crab-like walk.

  “I’m not the one that just about shot Mel. You be careful!” Clayton responded, his voice still cracking with every other syllable.

  “I was about to save your life. What if that would have been the dude we’re looking for? I was the only thing standing between you and heaven,” Cory retorted, taking exception to the way Clayton had responded.

  “Keep it down. I was only joking. I’m sure you would have put a couple of rounds into the bad guy . . . ”

  “Dang right I would have. Right after I put two or three in you. In fact, I could have probably gotten you both with one shot. At that range I’m sure my 9mm would have penetrated right through both of you.”

  “Very funny. I’d be laughing if I didn’t think you were serious.” Clayton cuffed Cory across the back of the head with his open palm. “Keep your eyes open. If that old marine catches us out here with our faces painted black, he’s going to castrate us for sure.”

  “Good point,” Cory said, reaching down and covering his groin, an expression of mock pain written across his face. “Okay, I’ll get up against the fence and look, while you stay out there, and let me know if anybody comes.”

  “Got it.”

  “Man, it’s so dark back in here I can hardly see anything. Why aren’t we doing this during the day?”

  “Cause Boyd doesn’t want us messing in his stuff,” Clayton reminded his friend.

  “Oh yeah, right. Can you see Mel?” he asked, as the two moved slowly down the length of the eight-foot high fence with razor wire stretched across the top. “Hold up a minute Clayton, I can’t see behind the bushes so I’ve got to feel my way along. Take it slow for a minute ‘til we get out of these plants.” Cory expected to hear some sort of response, but there was none. He could not see beyond his position to where Clayton’s voice had come, just a moment before. “Clayton?” There was still no reply. Cory slowly and quietly removed the pistol and knelt against the fence, his heart racing and his senses on full alert. “Clayton, Clayton, where are you?” Another moment passed without any reply. “If you’re messing with me, so help me I’ll . . . ”

  “No.” Came a reply, from just on the other side of the fence where Cory was kneeling.

  “Holy hell!” Cory cried, backpedaling into the bushes behind him, dropping his gun in the process. “Clayton, what in the world! Where did you come from? What do you mean, ‘No’?”

  “No, I can’t see Mel yet.”

  “Well, how did you get over there?”

  “Just up ahead a bit, there’s a little patch of bushes. One of them has been cut off at the base and was leaning up against the fence. Somebody’s cleared enough dirt away that I could slip under it, and here I am.”

  “Yeah, there you are with almost a bullet in your brain!”

  “And how were you going to do that with your gun flying out of your hand?” Clayton chided.

  “Well, maybe I’ll just find it and take you out now. Mel wouldn’t blame me, you know.”

  “Alright, alright just find your gun and I’ll show you where the opening is.”

  The two crept along the base of the fence until they’d come to the same point where Clayton had managed to breach the steel curtain. They could see Mel methodically testing the fence and moving toward them. In the dim light she could see that Cory was on one side of the barrier and Clayton o
n the other. This realization caused her to pick up her pace, putting her at their location in a matter of seconds.

  “Looks like you two found something.”

  “Yeah, I did. I found this spot while Cory was back there in the bushes, peeing himself,” Clayton offered.

  “I was not. I mean - I did not.”

  “Okay, whatever, but keep it down,” Mel reminded them, shooting an angry scowl at the two young men.

  “Mel, move that bush there. It’s been cut off at the bottom.” Clayton coaxed their superior.

  “I thought it would be something like this. Mixed in with the dirt and plants back there, I was able to see a spot where the guard had lost a bit more blood. At this point though, I don’t think there’s enough to expect that he should be dead.”

  “That’s good. Where do we go from here?” Cory asked.

  “Under the fence.” Mel replied.

  “Okay, you go ahead. Clayton, help us get through.” Cory moved behind Mel and watched her shimmy under the fence, using the narrow gap that had been prepared by the intruder. The slim young man quickly followed, having no trouble moving his thin frame under the fence’s base. “Man, it’s pretty dark over here,” he said, looking down the slope to the road, moonlight providing their only source of illumination.

  “This’ll help,” Mel said, taking a small flashlight from her pocket over which she’d attached a blue filter. “Didn’t want to use it on campus, too easy to spot but we should be okay down here. He used this location ‘cause you can’t really see it from anywhere above, unless you’re standing right at the fence. It’s perfect, really. Same place I would have picked.” Mel carefully managed a controlled slide down the embankment, looking for clues as she went. By the time all three had reached the bottom and the curbing below, they were covered with dirt and Clayton was coughing loud enough to wake the dead.

  “Clayton! Put a sock in it,” Mel ordered.

  “I’m trying,” he said, between coughs. Cory reached out for his friend’s wrists and grasping them, thrust them well over Clayton’s head in an effort to help him stop coughing. Miraculously, it worked. “Thanks dude.”

  “No problem,” Cory said, releasing his friend and huddling closer to Mel.

  “Looks like he dragged him to this point and probably picked him up again, but where would he take him?” she asked, shining the light around to see what possible avenue of escape there could be. A stone’s throw down the angular hill, the highway turned to the right but there was something unusual about the curve, which didn’t quite make sense to the experienced tracker. “Come on,” she said, beckoning the other two to follow her down the paved road. “What is that?” she asked, as they approached the oddity, the blue light casting obscure shadows under the moon’s glow.

  “Is it some sort of an opening under the road?”

  “I think you’re right, Cory, but where does it go?” Mel stopped and shined the light around but could see nothing. There was a concrete barrier on the other side of the road and nothing visible beyond, due to the sloping nature of the terrain. “What’s over there? Clayton, step over there and take a look.”

  The tall, gangly sleuth eased his way across the road, peered over the side and then hustled his way back to the pair. “There’s a parking lot over there. It’s down about 40 feet. That opening must be a tunnel that runs under the highway and feeds into that parking lot.”

  “Okay, let’s take a peek,” Mel said, drawing her pistol and prompting her friends to do the same. “Keep it tight!”

  The three worked their way down the slope of the highway and into the tunnel’s mouth. It would have been as black as the inside of a sunken cave had it not been for the little light that Mel stretched out before them. Water and decay swirled around their feet as they stepped through the muck, a sucking sound echoing in the tube each time they lifted their shoes and advanced. Emerging from the end of the tunnel, the three held their weapons at the ready, each covering a different angle of fire. Mel took in the parking lot, vacant, except for a lone car, which glimmered in the light blue beam.

  “You two stay put and I’ll take a look at the car,” Mel directed, lifting her sidearm level with her shoulder, as she cautiously approached the parked car. The windows of the vehicle were all rolled down but there was nothing unusual with the interior, considering that it has been exposed to the elements for months on end. Some birds had made the front seat their home; a well-formed nest with broken shells occupied the passenger seat and white pasty excrement covered the dash and seat covers. Mel did a slow 360 around the car looking for any signs of foul play. The driver’s door had recently been opened, the door handle missing the dust that covered the remainder of the car. At the rear of the sedan she read, ‘Chrysler 3000’, prominently displayed with a chrome emblem. Two prints were easily identifiable on the top of the trunk, palms and fingers, too large to be a woman’s, were pressed into the fine dirt. A smear of blood also covered the bumper, droplets had run from the fiberglass to the ground below, pooling in several discs of dried blood.

  Mel reached out and tried the trunk but it was locked. Someone with red, plasma- covered hands had grasped the trunk lid in the same way, sometime before. With her gun still drawn, Mel slid to the driver’s side and put the little flashlight between her teeth while she pulled up on the handle, opening the door. Seconds later she found the trunk release and pulled it, causing a subtle pop at the rear of the vehicle. The scent of death drifted to her nose before returning to the partially opened enclosure. Mel pushed the barrel of her pistol under the edge of the trunk and with the flick of her wrist she exposed the contents.

  Chapter 37

  The experienced military medic had seen death in all its forms but even the hardened soldier was not prepared for what greeted her. David, the missing sentry, was splayed and gutted like a fish, blood and entrails covering almost every inch of the trunk’s surface. A cursory inspection of the corpse revealed that a portion of the right thigh was missing from pelvis to knee, the large rectus muscle completely cut away and gone. The remainder of the body was in such disarray that Mel dared not look any closer before having The Ward involved.

  “Mel, what is it?” Cory called from across the lot. The two started to walk toward her but she stepped away from the trunk and motioned for them to come no closer. “What’s wrong? Did you find him?”

  “You guys don’t need to see this. Hustle back up the hill and go get Farrell. Have him wake Bubley and bring ‘em all back down here. Bring some proper lights and a body bag.” The two young men trotted off through the tunnel and were gone from her sight. The medic returned to the body and continued her search for clues of the killer, moving the blue light back and forth over the evisceration.

  She suddenly had the distinct impression that there were eyes on her. Wheeling about, she pulled the blue filter from the flashlight’s end, tossing it to the ground while she shined the light around the vacant lot. A short distance away, lying on his belly in the weeds, an almost naked Solomon raised the bayonet to his lips and licked the edge of the blade, causing a trickle of blood to fill his mouth. He swallowed it down, remembering the taste of the guard’s liver and thigh, which he’d ingested the night before.

  The killer watched his prey, looking and waiting for a time to strike. He’d grown accustomed to hunting in the dark of night, although more trouble now than it ever had been, it was still his natural arena of fear and death. Lurking just beyond the woman’s visual boundary, he patiently waited for her to turn, the contents of the trunk sucking her in: one death leading to another. His heart raced, his breathing turned to a pant, the taste of blood urging him to take risks that he would not normally attempt. The excitement of the capture and kill were almost sexual to the driven beast. Then it happened - the female turned, exposing her vulnerable blindside, propelling him to action. He raised his tall, angular frame onto one knee and leaned forward, bringing him to his feet. The sound of his heart beating in his ears shut out everything b
ut the need to kill. Solomon stepped, then stepped again, rushing forward, his bare feet making no sound as he covered the ground between himself and the native tracker.

  “Mel!” Cory yelled, from somewhere up on the highway. “Clayton’s back under the fence and has gone for help. I’m coming back down!”

  “Fine, thanks for the warning,” she shouted in reply.

  Solomon picked up the pace, knowing that his window of opportunity was shrinking. He cocked his right arm, bringing the sharpened steel a few inches from his own head, the tip of the blade aimed directly at the back of Mel’s neck. When he was within 20 feet, he rotated his elbow forward and wound his forearm back like the lever of a mousetrap. The muscles were taut and once triggered, would bury the blade to the hilt in the woman’s upper back, pitching forward and down, driving through her heart and causing instant death.

  The Major could hear footsteps moving rapidly toward her, an echoing squish-squash followed by the cheerful face of her young friend, emerging from the tunnels end. She waved, stepping slightly away from the trunk; the light from her flashlight directed at the ground around her feet, creating a spotlight effect, a single player on a deadly stage. Cory walked one step, and then realized that there were two actors on the stage. His actions told Mel the script of the play before his panicked words reached her ears.

  Mel saw the young man take the initial step and then freeze, his eyes glued on something beyond her. His hand whipped to his side feeling for the gun that was there, his mouth opening to shout the words, “Look out!” Instinctively, Mel rolled to her left just as the blade was set into motion, slashing down with the force of a powerful spring, the tip biting into the Medic’s arm, opening up an eight inch gash extending to her elbow. She cried out in disbelief and pain, rolling over onto her back, protecting herself with her feet as the assailant made another attempt to bury the blade in her heart.