He had been hearing the faint sounds of chirping birds as he came up the slope, and he had attributed it to all the explosions the night before. He had been afraid that the deafening noises had ruined his inner ear, and he tried to ignore that fear.
But the ringing and chirping that he heard had actually come from the valley below. The morning light had awakened the birds, just as it did in greener places. Above the foliage a half-dozen vultures floated, circling over something just inside this edge of the trees. Something down there was dead, or very near dead. Vultures didn’t circle that close unless there was food.
Nakai studied the rocks in front of him. The creature’s blood trail led right into that valley.
He crouched near another collapsed lava dome and stared down. The valley was a perfect place for the creature to camp. More than likely there was still some water down there, and enough shade for the creature to get out of the sun during the heat of the day. And the lava fields made a natural barrier.
“Smart,” Nakai said softly to himself. He pulled out his binoculars and studied the tree line closest to him. There was nothing in sight—no creature, and no dead body. He turned slightly, and saw a trail below him that looked recently used.
He then studied the foliage farther in, trying to spot what those vultures were circling over. It took a moment before he focused the glasses on a human head. Even from a distance, Nakai could tell it was Sheriff Bogle’s. The sunglasses and hat were still firmly in place on the head, where it sat on a stump. As Nakai watched, one of the vultures landed next to the head and pecked at it, ripping a hunk of rotting flesh from the cheek.
Nakai eased the glasses to the right a little, not really understanding what he was seeing. Finally, the picture came into focus. It was the creature, covered in its own green blood. It was lying on its back, its arms extended as if it had fallen into that position.
Two of the vultures were now on the ground near the creature, eating at other human heads scattered around the camp. The creature didn’t move.
“Is it dead?” Nakai whispered to himself, continuing to study the monster. He couldn’t see if it was breathing. Could they have been lucky enough to have mortally wounded the creature in the fight?
Nakai checked his watch. One hour and ten minutes left. He had time for a closer look. Although he wasn’t sure how close he wanted to get. A wounded animal was a dangerous animal, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to face a more dangerous version of this creature.
Still, he had an opportunity. He would hate himself if he didn’t take it. He could imagine himself hurrying back to the colonel, reporting the creature’s position, and then have another debacle occur like the one last night. More people would die, and it all would be on Nakai’s conscience.
He wouldn’t get too close. Just close enough to shoot the thing. Not even within range of the thing’s arm. Barely within sight range.
After he made sure his rifle was set for full auto, he eased down the slope, walking as silently as his grandfather had taught him. Not a stone was moved by his steps, not a twig snapped.
He reached the edge of the tree line and eased into the forest, moving slowly, carefully, listening for any sign that the creature was awake or alive. Nakai was so quiet, he didn’t even alert the birds. They continued singing as if nothing were wrong.
Ten steps into the trees the smell hit him. Rotted flesh, putrefied in the heat of the last few days. Rotten human flesh.
Nakai felt his gorge rise, but he swallowed hard, wishing he had something—tobacco, Vicks, anything—to block the smell. He wanted to turn back right then, but he knew he couldn’t. If that monster was just asleep, he could kill it with a full burst to the head. If the monster was already dead, he would be able to take proof back to the colonel.
And if it were playing possum, well, at least he wouldn’t die under friendly fire.
Above him the thin trees seemed to tower. The dirt under his boots was soft in comparison to the lava rock. The trail wound through the brush like a snake, twisting back and forth on the path of least resistance through the trees. The creature’s blood dotted the trail every few steps. And puma tracks, a few days old, also marked the trail.
The farther in, the worse the smell. With just the slightest breeze, it choked Nakai, almost making him cough. If he made it out of this alive, he was going to need a dozen showers to get this smell off his skin. It was going to take a lot more than a few showers to get it out of his memory.
He pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it over his nose and mouth. It didn’t help much, but it made him feel better as he moved forward. Five more slow, careful minutes, and he was within thirty paces of the creature’s camp. Through the brush he could see glimpses of the creature, still unmoving on the ground.
Then he made a mistake.
He was staring ahead, watching the clawed hand of the creature as he stepped forward. If he had been watching where he was stepping, as he should have been doing, he would have seen the thin cord.
But he didn’t see it, and his foot brushed it.
There was a loud snap and suddenly everything around him seemed to be moving at once. Without time for the slightest thought, he dove to the left, rolling toward the base of a tree.
He almost made it.
The spiked branch that had been held tight by the trip cord ripped into his shoulder, spinning him around and down. The pain was incredible, as if a thousand needles were being shoved into his arm and neck at the same time.
But he kept moving, rolling, until he came up sitting, back against a trunk. He still had his rifle in his left hand, but his right arm and shoulder were going to be useless to him for some time to come. A dozen thorns had torn into the shoulder, ripping muscle and tendons alike.
A low growling filled the trees. It was an unearthly sound, like nothing he had ever heard before.
Through the pain, Nakai knew he was going to die.
The creature hadn’t been dead, but only resting. And now, very shortly, it would have another head for its camp. And Nakai’s body would be nothing more than food for the vultures.
26
The battle has begun: the two sides are joined in combat. I can see two futures. My brother defeats the monster or my brother does not. If my brother is killed, blood will flow in the desert for years to come, for evil will walk free on the Earth.
Private Tilden rode in the open door of the helicopter back over the ground he had covered on foot twice the night before. The roar of the chopper’s motor and blades made talking with the others on board impossible. The chopper was packed with troops. The base’s response to the colonel was immediate. What Tilden hadn’t planned on was his impromptu discussion with the brass in Washington. It seemed that a satellite had been in position the night before to pick up part of the battle. Washington had seen the destruction of the gunship before the satellite moved out of range. After the destruction of the base, the loss of the gunship was a bad sign. If this little party didn’t destroy the creature, then Washington would take over the fight.
The entire U.S. military would face this thing.
Tilden hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. He glanced out at the other transport choppers that were flying in formation with the one he was in. There were more troops on the transport choppers than he wanted to think about, followed by four gunships and two tanks.
This much firepower had to count for something. That creature wasn’t immortal; just damned lucky and even smarter than Nakai had given it credit for being. Although Tilden had heard Nakai’s warning the night before. Nakai had seen the creature survive terrific odds—hell, Tilden had seen it survive terrific odds. He knew there was a distinct possibility that today’s battle would not be a rout.
He knew there was a good chance he could die today.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
It had been just under two hours since he left the colonel and Corporal Nakai in that valley. Now, ahead, he could see the lava field looming, a vast
expanse of black stretching off into the distance. Early-morning sunlight fell across the blackness, illuminating it. The day’s heat hadn’t started yet but it wasn’t far off, hiding just behind the remains of the night’s chill like a lion ready to pounce.
The chopper turned and came in along the edge of the lava. The wind from the blades kicked up dust and dirt as the chopper neared the ground. It had landed at the edge of the battle site.
Smoke still drifted from the remains of the first gunship. Both humvees were nothing but blackened hunks of metal.
The colonel and six others were standing in the center of the valley, facing the landing helicopters. Sentries were posted around the area. Bodies were still scattered through the brush and on the rocks. Clearly taking care of the dead was going to require some time. And it needed to be done before the day got too hot.
The chopper bumped to a landing and the sound of the engine reduced as the pilot cut the motor. Tilden dropped to the ground and, shielding his eyes from the flying dust, crouched and ran toward the colonel. A few feet away, he stopped and saluted.
The colonel returned his salute, then stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder. “Good job, Private. Were there any problems?”
“No, sir,” Tilden said.
“Good.” The colonel nodded. “Good.”
Tilden could tell the colonel wasn’t his normal self. His eyes were sunken and his voice hollow, not full of the drive and power of just yesterday. But after the colonel had lost so many men, Tilden could understand. He was still feeling shock at what had happened, but he’d had the fast hike across the desert to get his thoughts together.
Tilden glanced around for Corporal Nakai. He was nowhere to be seen.
From the other side of the chopper Major Sowel walked up to the colonel and saluted. “The first wave of reinforcements have reported for duty, sir.”
The colonel returned his salute. “How long will it take the tanks to get here?”
“Another half hour,” Sowel said. “Two are being airlifted in from Arizona. And we have four gun-ships coming in within ten minutes.”
“Excellent,” the colonel said. He turned away from the major and looked at the shallow valley. “Did you bring the body bags?”
“Yes, sir, and a team to take care of it,” Sowel said softly, clearly staring in disbelief at the scene. Human bodies and limbs were everywhere. Not more than twenty paces from where they were talking, a man’s leg hung on a bush. The leg looked so normal, with the boot still in place, that Tilden could almost imagine the leg’s owner sprawled on the other side of that bush, as if he had taken a spill.
That was, he could believe that little image until he looked at the top of the thigh, and saw the gristle, bone, and sinews poking out of the green army fatigues.
“All right,” the colonel said, his shoulders squaring, his back straightening. He took a deep breath. “Then let’s take care of our dead first. We’ll put the entire unit on it until the rest of the reinforcements arrive. Then we’ll go kill the creature that did this to us.”
“Yes, sir,” Sowel said. He saluted, then turned and headed back to the chopper and the men who were gathering there. The task of rounding up these bodies was not going to be a pleasant one.
“Begging the colonel’s pardon, sir,” Tilden said, snapping to attention.
“Yes, son.”
“Where’s Corporal Nakai, sir?” Tilden asked. “I don’t see him.”
“He’s tracking the creature,” the colonel said. “He’s due back shortly.”
“In the lava field?” Tilden asked.
“Yes, Private,” the colonel said. “He seems to know what he’s doing. And we needed the information.”
Tilden nodded. “Sir, permission to follow Corporal Nakai to offer assistance.”
The colonel had started to turn away, but at Tilden’s request, he turned back and faced the private. For a moment he stared at him. Then he asked, “Which tribe are you from, son?”
“Zuni, sir,” Tilden said.
The colonel nodded. “And Nakai is Navajo. Correct?”
“That’s what he told me, sir,” Tilden said.
“And you both know this desert?”
“I don’t know this area, sir,” Tilden said. “But I grew up in the high desert. I can take care of myself just fine.”
“And you don’t think Nakai can, is that it?”
“No, sir, I didn’t say that,” Tilden said. “I believe he can. But against that creature, any man can use help. And in that kind of lava field, it’s easy for a man to twist an ankle, or break a leg. Two would have a better chance of getting back than one.”
The colonel nodded. “All right, Private. Nakai said he’d track the creature’s blood trail. He’s been gone for over an hour now. I told him to report back within two. You follow that trail for a half hour, and if you haven’t found him yet, get back here. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Tilden said.
“Good,” the colonel said. “See that you follow that order. I’m going to need you when we go in there after the creature.”
“I understand, sir,” Tilden said.
Two minutes later he was on the ledge where the creature had been last night. A minute after that he was following the green trail of blood over the lava field, hoping that just up ahead he would see Corporal Nakai returning. The last thing Tilden wanted to do was run into that creature, alone.
27
A true hero faces death many times, in many ways. My brother now faces it. Our grandfather says that a true measure of a soul is how it faces the moment of transition from one plane of existence to another. Many welcome the death, many cling to life with every breath. A true hero will not fear the death, and will not fight to prolong life. A true hero is focused on the task at hand, not on the results of success or failure.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Nakai said, scrambling to get his back against the tree behind him and his feet braced.
Blood from his ripped-up right shoulder flowed freely down his arm, dripping off his fingers. With his left hand, he yanked up his rifle, bracing it against his hip, pointing it in the direction of the creature’s camp. The smell of rotting human flesh surrounded him, covering him in a sickening blanket. His shoulder throbbed in pain.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
The trees in front of Nakai moved as the creature hurried forward. When Nakai had set off the trap, the creature had roared out of its sleep, scattering the vultures. Now the creature was crashing through the brush, heading right at him. Unless Nakai cut this thing in two, he was going to die very quickly, and in a very ugly fashion.
As the creature appeared from behind a large brush, not more than twenty steps away, Nakai fired, doing his best to keep the gun level with just his left hand.
But his best wasn’t good enough.
The long burst of fire missed wide, cutting down the brush five feet to the right of the creature. It roared, and raised its arms toward him as it continued to come forward. It didn’t have its helmet on, and its antlike mandibles were moving, as if it anticipated a meal.
Gritting his teeth, Nakai swept the rifle toward the creature, still firing, ripping into the trees beyond like an invisible chain saw. The pain from the gun pounding against his bones sent stars through his vision, but he kept his finger on the trigger and the gun spraying bullets at the creature.
He missed.
Every shot missed.
The creature leaped up and Nakai’s shots went right through the area where it had been a moment before. The creature grabbed with its taloned hands a tree limb ten feet off the ground, and swung onto it as if it were a child playing hide-and-seek.
Nakai swept the gun upward, doing his best to aim it with his left hand only, and fired again.
The creature leaped to the side—Nakai had expected it to leap closer, but it didn’t—and he cut the limb it had been on into splinters.
Nakai followed with more shots, ripping up the brush, knock
ing down limbs of trees, covering the smell of rotting human flesh with the smell of gunpowder, filling the area around himself with a choking blue haze.
Then the gun clicked. Empty.
He had dreaded this moment. One-handed, this would not be easy.
He swung the gun down as he ejected the clip, then he braced it so that he could shove another clip in place. He brought the gun back up to his shoulder as quickly as he could. He was slow by his normal, two-handed standards, but fairly quick for one hand. The entire action took only a few seconds.
But a few seconds had been too long.
He lost sight of the creature.
He scanned the area. There was no sign of it. No green blood, no trail. Nothing.
The silence of the forest and the smell of rot dropped back in over Nakai, covering him in a layer of almost pure panic.
“Shit!” he said loud enough for the word to echo. He had to stay calm, think this through. There was no chance the creature was gone, that much was for sure. But for the moment it wasn’t coming directly at him like a charging bull. Nakai knew that wouldn’t last long if he stayed here.
Keeping the gun trained forward, he quickly pushed himself to his feet, using the rough bark of the tree to steady himself. Pain shot through his injured shoulder, radiating like a hot dagger through his chest and stomach. He clamped his teeth together and used the pain to force himself into motion.
He might have a chance if he got out of here. If nothing else, he could fire toward the sky to show the colonel where the creature was. The gunfire would be hard to hear from down here, but not from the lava flow.
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