Predator - Big Game

by Sandy Schofield - (ebook by Undead)

  He looked at the pills for a moment, the images of blood still filling his mind.

  “Aspirin,” Alda said. “After that much drinking, you’re going to need aspirin and lots of water.”

  She was right. Some of his disorientation was coming from a hell of a hangover.

  He managed to push the two pills into his mouth and with a shaking hand got the water to wash them past his parched throat. He handed the glass back to her. “Thanks.”

  He managed to rub a little of the grit out of his eyes and the dream faded a little, but not much. “What a weird dream.”

  Alda stopped near the foot of the bed, holding the glass of water. For the first time Nakai noticed she was completely dressed, wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans. Her long black hair was loose around her head, draping over her shoulders like a thick blanket.

  “Seemed like more of a nightmare,” Alda said, “judging by the way you were thrashing around.”

  “Yeah,” Nakai said. “I suppose it was. My grandfather, my parents, and my brother were all in it.”

  “Your brother and mother?” Alda said. “I thought your twin brother was stillborn and your mother died during his birth.”

  “Yeah,” Nakai said, still seeing the blood everywhere around him, tainting the entire room. He’d been hungover before, but never like this. And never with such a clear memory of a dream.

  Slowly, making sure the room wasn’t spinning too badly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position on the side of the bed. His undershirt was stained with sweat and he had no memory at all of getting into bed the previous night. The drinking had at least dulled the memory of seeing Dietl killed for a while.

  “Man, I could use another drink,” he said.

  “Wrong,” Alda said. “There will be no more drinking while you’re with me. Understand?”

  “Have pity on me, woman,” Nakai said, holding his head in his hands to slow the spinning and the pain. It didn’t help much at all.

  “Pity?” Alda said. “Maybe if you told me what was eating at you, I might have some pity.”

  Nakai shook his head and regretted it instantly. “I can’t talk about it, and you wouldn’t believe me if I did. No one does.”

  “Yeah,” Alda said, the disgust clear in her voice. “Why would the woman who loves you ever believe you?” She snapped on the television as she headed for the door. “Just lay here and watch television while I get you some breakfast. Then we’ll try that conversation again.”

  “Won’t matter,” Nakai said. “I still won’t be able to…”

  He let his voice trail off. Alda was already out of the room. He closed his eyes and lay back in the damp sheets. Instantly the bloody images rose in his mind.

  “Bad choice,” he muttered to himself, and opened his eyes. He had to focus on something. He made himself stare at the television. The road and desert scrub on the screen looked familiar. He felt himself snap to attention.

  “… appears these roads will not open anytime soon. The federal government is advising all county residents to stay indoors until further notice.”

  “What?” Alda said, coming back into the room and standing beside Nakai.

  Nakai held up his hand for her to be silent.

  The scene shifted to a reporter on location. Behind the reporter there was a roadblock, manned by army privates. Nakai didn’t recognize any of the soldiers, but the road was one of the main roads leading into his base.

  “Details are still sketchy,” the reporter said. He was a slender well-dressed man who kept glancing over his shoulder nervously. Nakai had never seen a reporter who so clearly did not want to be on the scene. “Officials have confirmed that a large explosion destroyed Cole Army Base at 7:04 this morning. The size of this blast would seem to preclude the possibility of any survivors. At this moment the army is not saying what caused the explosion. It is currently under investigation.”

  “Oh, God,” Alda said, covering her mouth as if she might throw up at any moment. She sank to the edge of the bed.

  Nakai didn’t move. He felt numb, not really believing that his entire base was gone, yet knowing exactly what the cause was.

  There were no large-scale nukes on that base. And even if there were, they wouldn’t have gone off randomly. There weren’t any other weapons at the base that would be powerful enough to destroy it.

  But Athelry had ordered the strange ship to be taken to one of the hangars at the base. There had probably been weapons in the thing.

  Which meant that the explosion that destroyed the base might have been caused by the same thing that had killed Dietl.

  Nakai’s headache had just gotten worse.

  Then his grandfather’s words from the dream came back to him. He must stand up to the monster.

  But he didn’t want to. A monster like this was bigger than one man. Nakai couldn’t handle something like this alone.

  Alda moved closer to Nakai. She put her hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

  But what if his grandfather was right? What if it was Nakai’s job to kill the monster? Why else would he have survived, not once, but twice? Why did he get away when Dietl hadn’t? And why was he off the base when it was destroyed?

  The monster would arrive spewing death from a shimmer in the air.

  His grandfather had once said that to him.

  You must stand against the blood. Allow your brother to stand with you.

  The words from his dream. But what did they mean?

  Alda slipped her arm around him. He leaned against her.

  His father had been in that dream for a reason, laughing, holding bourbon. Nakai could be a laughing, drunken fool, or he could do something.

  He had always vowed not to be like his father.

  Nakai took a deep breath, and turned to Alda. “Can I borrow your car?”

  “What for?” she asked, surprised.

  “That was my base,” he said, pointing at the television. “And I think I know what happened. It’s my duty to go back.”

  “What if there’s radiation?”

  “They would be evacuating all areas downwind,” Nakai said. “We would have heard by now. I’m going to go.”

  “There’s nothing there, Enoch.”

  “You don’t know that,” he said. “They don’t know that.”

  She gazed at him for a moment, as if she were trying to read his mind. “This is why you got drunk yesterday, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “They sent me away. They shouldn’t have.”

  “If they hadn’t, you’d be dead now.” Her voice shook, just a little.

  “I know,” he said. “I think I might have survived for a reason.”

  She leaned her forehead against his and sighed. Then she raised her head. “If you go, I’m coming with you.”

  “No,” Nakai said. “There’s no point in you exposing yourself to who knows what.”

  “But we’re both safe right here,” Alda said, the weight of her arm on his suddenly heavier, as if she might hold him down. “As far as the army knows, you’re dead.”

  Nakai glanced at the television and then again remembered his grandfather’s words. He had to stand up to the monster, fight what had destroyed his base, even if he died in the attempt.

  “Even if you didn’t go back,” Alda said, “who would know?”

  “I would know,” Nakai said, feeling the Tightness of the words. “And so would you.”

  12

  The dream visit of our grandfather has helped my brother focus on the slaying of the monster. He thinks he is returning to the battle. What he does not know is that even if he had not returned, the battle would have come to him. The monster and the monster slayer both search for each other from the moment of their births. It is the way of things.

  Sheriff Bogle had served as a New Mexico law officer for over twenty years, starting as a deputy right out of college and working his way up. He stood just over six feet, with broad shoulders and a disposition that made him laugh at tro
ubles before he got angry at them. Everyone in the county knew him and liked him. And no one gave him any problems. They all knew that under his broad smile, weathered face, and twinkling eyes hid the sting of a scorpion.

  But the scorpion wasn’t hiding today. He’d already had a hell of a morning. After the army announced that the “earthquake” everyone had felt the day before had actually been an explosion that destroyed Cole Army Base in the next county, his county had gone crazy. Everyone who could was getting into cars, Jeeps, and rusted pickups, packing all they had, and was getting out of town. He’d never seen a traffic jam in Agate before, but he’d had to deal with one for most of the day.

  He wasn’t sure what they were afraid of—if there had been fallout from the explosion, the army would have issued warnings already and no one had. If there were going to be more explosions, they would be in the vicinity of the army base, not in Agate. But he couldn’t explain that to anyone. No one wanted to hear logic.

  Of course, he had to think logically because he had to stay. It was his job to serve and protect, and he was doing it. If he had children, though, or if his wife hadn’t decided that rural New Mexico was too primitive for her, he would be shipping them out just as fast as he could. Hell, if the truth be told, he was jealous of the folks who had the ability to leave. He didn’t. And neither did half the town.

  Those who couldn’t leave were watching the traffic jam with two parts envy and one part amusement. They stood in the doorways of their businesses, arms crossed, and made rude jokes, or catcalled the occasional fender bender. Not one of them went into the street to help—and that was damned unusual. In the past the locals had gone out of their way to help each other.

  The only one who wasn’t outside was Ben. He was sitting on the wrong side of his bar, sampling the wares. When Bogle had asked him if everything was all right, he had replied, “The army says so. Why should I doubt them?”

  Why indeed? Bogle was asking himself just that question when the second oddity of the day occurred. The dispatch hailed him with news of a double murder at the Nadire place out on the old highway. Nadire was one of a dozen sheep herders who managed to stay alive in this area, spreading their flocks out over hundreds of acres of high desert to get them enough food. None of them or their kids had ever given him a whisper of trouble. There had never been petty theft or school-age pranks or even foul language from those families. He couldn’t imagine how murder could occur up there.

  Bogle had left two deputies in charge of making sure nothing got looted in town as everyone left, then picked up Dr. Ellison to head out to investigate. Ellison had been the county’s only doctor for the last fifteen years. Everyone called him “Pro” instead of “Doc” because of his early days as a professional golfer. There wasn’t a golf course within fifty miles of Agate, New Mexico, and Pro said he liked it just fine that way. From what the sheriff understood, Pro had given up golf after he broke just about all his clubs in a bad round during a Phoenix tournament. But in fifteen years he’d never heard Pro talk about that tournament or why he had moved to Agate.

  Pro still half-looked like a golf professional. He always wore stylish short-sleeved shirts and slacks, and was very seldom seen without a golf hat on, even in the small county hospital. Despite his always looking so out of place, everyone in the county had grown to love him and his easy smile. Sheriff Bogle considered him more than a friend. The Pro was almost a partner in taking care of the county and all its residents.

  The fifteen-minute ride out the old highway in the sheriff’s Jeep was mostly silent. The warm morning air was swirling around the two men, both lost in their thoughts of losing Cole Army Base and facing a double-murder scene. Everything in their world had suddenly changed. It wasn’t the sort of day for small talk.

  The closer they got to the Nadire stake, the more Bogle dreaded it. He was beginning to wish he had never gotten up that morning. Finally, he saw the Nadire place on the side of the road. Nothing looked out of place. If he had been passing by, he wouldn’t have noticed a thing.

  Bogle slid the Jeep to a stop in the dirt of the Nadire driveway.

  “Dan’s truck?” Pro asked, pointing at the pickup parked in front of them.

  “Yeah,” Bogle replied. He didn’t like the fact that Dan Bonner might be mixed up in this. Dan was one of the nicest people working for the big companies. He actually cared for these ranchers and herders in this area.

  Walking Dove Nadire came slowly out the front door to greet them. She looked slumped over, as if simply standing was too much pain to endure. Normally she was a proud woman in her mid-forties who had raised her children to walk proud also. Now her weathered face was stained with tears and her eyes were empty.

  “Back there,” she said softly as Pro jumped out of the Jeep and moved to her. “Back there.”

  She was pointing to an area behind the house where the sheep were held.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” Bogle asked. He didn’t want to go barging around back there if the murderer might still be there waiting to gun them down.

  “She’s in shock,” Pro said, steadying her with a firm hand.

  Walking Dove shook her head from side to side, the tears flowing freely now. “I don’t know,” she said. “Billy saw everything.”

  “Billy?” Bogle asked.

  “Their youngest son,” Pro said. “About six. Sharp kid.”

  “Where’s Billy?” Bogle asked.

  “Inside,” Walking Dove said softly.

  At that moment a young child opened the screen door and stepped outside, letting the door bang closed behind him. The sound echoed over the surrounding desert and was carried away by the warm wind. Billy wore a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt and stained jeans. He too had been crying, but at the moment he was trying to repress the tears.

  His eyes weren’t empty. Instead they had the thousand-yard stare that Bogle had seen countless times before, always on the faces of the vets who found refuge out here in the desert. Vets who had seen the worst of combat, whether in Korea, Vietnam, or the Gulf.

  Bogle walked up the porch steps slowly, knowing if he moved too quickly the boy would bolt. Bogle waited until he had reached the boy’s side before crouching so that he would be at the boy’s eye level.

  “Billy,” Bogle said, making sure that he didn’t patronize the kid. He was talking as one adult to another now, and he felt that would keep the kid calm. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Billy nodded, but kept his mouth closed.

  Obviously this wasn’t going to be easy. “What did you see?” Bogle asked, lowering his voice just a little, as if they were having an intimate conversation.

  The boy blinked once, then said, “Blue fire.”

  “Blue fire?” Bogle repeated stupidly. He couldn’t think what that meant.

  Billy nodded again. “Just blue fire.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat just like a man would do and said, “There was blue fire, and then Daddy was dead.”

  Bogle glanced up at Pro, who only shrugged.

  “Did you see what caused the blue fire?” Bogle asked.

  Billy shook his head.

  “Blue fire,” Bogle repeated, more to himself than to anyone else.

  “And blood,” the little boy said. The calm in his tone made Bogle shudder. “Lots of blood.”

  Bogle put a reassuring hand on the kid’s shoulder, but he didn’t know what to say. Even though he had been sheriff for a long time, he’d never spoken to a child who had just seen his father murdered. It would take a lot more time and effort to get a clearer picture from this boy.

  Bogle took a deep breath. Whatever had caused that blue fire had to be long gone. It had taken him time to get here, and time must have elapsed before the dispatch took the call. But it was better to take precautions.

  The sheriff squeezed Billy’s shoulder. “You stay out here with your mother.”

  Billy nodded. Then Bogle stood, and unhooked the leather strap over his revolver. “Come on,
Pro. Let’s go take a look.”

  Pro gently patted Walking Dove’s shoulder, then moved in behind Bogle as they headed past Dan’s truck and toward the sheep pens.

  It was instantly clear that something truly grisly had happened behind this herder’s house. Blood was sprayed everywhere over the wooden sheep pen. It stained the dirt brown like raindrops. Human skin and intestines dripped from nearby sage. Even the remaining sheep in the pen had been splattered with blood and human skin.

  What was left of Nadire’s and Dan’s bodies were just a few steps away from the pen. It was clear they had died almost instantly, literally blown apart by some intense force or weapon. That blue fire of Billy’s was powerful stuff.

  Bogle felt as if his stomach might give back the greasy breakfast he’d had a few hours before. In all his years he’d seen a lot of death, but nothing like this.

  Bogle stopped a short distance from the bodies and held out his hand to stop Pro. “There’s nothing you can do to help them,” he said. “Let’s not go messing up what evidence is there.”

  Pro only nodded, swallowing hard. It was clear to Bogle that even the doctor was sickened by this sight. Anyone would be.

  “What kind of weapon could do this?” Pro asked.

  “Not any weapon I’m familiar with,” Bogle said. “I don’t think it was a gun. I’ve never seen bullets do this kind of damage, not even a lot of them. If I didn’t know better, I would say that it was an explosion. But there’s no blast site.”

  “Well, if it wasn’t a gun or a bomb,” Pro said, “then what was it?”

  A faint whirring filled the air, as if dozens of insects were swarming close by.

  “You hear that?” Bogle asked.

  “Yeah,” Pro said. “Sounds like—”

  Suddenly a red rope seemed to wrap around Pro’s chest as if he’d been lassoed fifteen times. There was an intense crackle like electricity popping in a loose wire, and then Bogle heard the sizzle of flesh burning. The ropes were turning blue.

  Blue energy.

  Blue fire.

  Pro let out a gagging cough as his eyes burst from their sockets, spraying blood over Bogle like someone had turned on two fire hoses. Pro was dead before his body hit the ground, his arms melted into the side of his body, smoke pouring from his mouth and nose.