by Aaron Hodges
Aware of the enhanced nature of their prey, he had waited until well after midnight to order the final approach. The dossier he had been given suggested their prey’s heightened sense of smell and hearing would warn them of the soldier’s presence, but with the group asleep, he hoped to neutralise that advantage.
Shouldering his rifle, the captain edged forward as the first glow of a sleeping body came into view. He raised a hand, signalling to his men. Throughout the trees, all movement ceased. Scott waved to his two lieutenants, and together the three of them continued on. He kept the barrel of his gun trained on the sleeping figure as two more came into view. They were armed with M16 rifles loaded with 5.56mm calibre rounds. Their orders were to capture if possible – but lethal force had been authorised where necessary. Their orders came from the very top, and Scott had no intention of allowing embarrassment to fall on his superiors.
He paused when they were still a few feet away from the campsite, his eyes flickering around the clearing in sudden doubt. Through the ghostly tree trunks, he studied the three sleeping figures, and silently cursed under his breath.
Where were the other two?
On the ground, one of the bodies moved, shifting silently on a bed of pine needles. The glowing green blob lay slightly apart from the other two, and as Scott turned, he realised the figure lay slumped sideways against a tree. He smirked as he realised the boy had fallen asleep on watch. No soldier in his team would be caught performing such dereliction of duty.
Suddenly the figure straightened, sitting bolt upright against the tree. The head lifted, and Scott cursed as eyes turned to stare straight at him.
“Go!” he screamed through his earpiece.
6
Chris jerked awake as a cry broke the night’s silence. Struggling to sit up, he bit back a cry of his own as he found himself trapped in a tangle of limbs and feathers. He heard Liz curse from nearby as he tripped over a wing, before managing to get his extended limbs under control. Pulling his feathers tight against his back, he staggered to his feet.
In the darkness, he caught movement from beside him and spun. But it was only Liz, stumbling over her own wings, her eyes wide with fear as she climbed to her feet. He reached out and caught her arm, and for a moment she stilled.
Then the roar of gunfire sounded through the trees.
Together they spun towards the sound. In his sleep, Chris had lost all sense of direction, but there was no doubt in his mind that if they followed the noise, they would find the others. He glanced at Liz, finding her crystal eyes in the darkness. She nodded back, and they began to run.
Another gunshot echoed through the trees and Chris cursed under his breath. How had the hunters found them? But there was no time to ponder the question now. Ahead, he glimpsed shadows moving through the trees, the dark silhouettes of men as they closed on their campsite.
Leaping over a fallen tree, he gritted his teeth and picked up the pace. Liz landed softly beside him, her wings partly extended, her lips drawn back in a snarl. Branches cracked beneath their feet, but Chris took no notice now. The woods were alive with the sound of movement, with the crashing of heavy bodies converging in front of them.
Ahead, Chris’s keen eyes made out the shadows of men standing in a circle. Without thinking, he leapt towards them. But Liz’s hand flashed out and caught him by the wrist, holding him back, dragging him down behind a fallen tree. She raised a finger to her lips as Chris opened his mouth to argue, and the words died on his tongue.
Silence fell as they crouched in the darkness. Chris struggled to control his breathing, to slow the wild beating of his heart. Slowly the stupidity of their mad rush trickled through his consciousness. From the brief glimpse he’d seen, there were at least a dozen men in the forest. Each would to be armed to the teeth, and would not hesitate to kill. If not for the other shadows racing towards the campsite, Chris guessed they would have been shot already.
He glanced again at Liz, offering his silent thanks for her intervention. She nodded back, and together they lifted their heads above the fallen tree and peered out.
The circle of men Chris had glimpsed a moment before stood twenty feet away, and as they watched several more shadows moved from the surrounding trees to join them. Through the darkness, Chris could see nothing of the men’s uniforms or military association, but the rifles they carried were clear enough. They held them with a professional ease, a few pointing out at the surrounding trees, while the others kept their weapons trained on the prisoners in the centre of the circle.
Richard, Jasmine, and the girl knelt between soldiers, their hands held behind their heads, eyes fixed to the ground.
Chris cursed silently to himself, wondering how the three had been taken unawares. He bit his lip as he studied the men, his heart sinking. He saw now they wore goggles over their eyes, no doubt some form of infrared technology that allowed them to see in the dark. There would be no taking them by surprise.
“What do we do?” he whispered to Liz.
“We have to save them,” she replied.
Shaking his head, Chris glanced at her. “Do you really think they’d do the same for us?”
Her eyes found him in the darkness, clear and resolute. “It doesn’t matter. Whether we like it or not, they’re all we’ve got now. We can’t leave them.”
Chris let out a long sigh and looked away. He clenched his fingers in the dirt, struggling to think, to find some argument against Liz’s words. But in his heart, he knew they were true. Friend or foe, the five of them were all that remained now of the hundreds who had suffered the horrors of the facility. For better or worse, they were bound by that experience.
“Please,” he looked up as Richard’s voice carried through the trees, “Please, don’t do this. Don’t make us go back.”
Most of the men ignored the desperate plea, but one stepped in close to the prisoners. Raising his rifle, he slammed the butt into Richard’s face. Richard reeled backwards from the blow, his arms wind-milling as he crashed to the dirt. He recovered quickly, and with a roar, leapt to his feet.
“Don’t,” the soldier spoke in a calm tone, “unless you want to sign your friends’ death warrants.”
Richard froze, his body taught, his fists clenched at his side. A tremor went through him as he looked at the man. A long moment past, as the shadowy men edged closer to the prisoners, guns raised. Then Richard’s shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head in defeat.
“Excellent,” the man nodded, then waved at the circle of soldiers, “Pack em up, boys. The other two are still out there somewhere. There’s a good chance they’ll be back. I want these subjects secured before they do.”
Several of the soldiers lowered their weapons and leapt to do the man’s bidding. Pulling handcuffs from their belts, they stepped towards Richard and the others, as the remaining soldiers covered them with their rifles.
“Now’s our chance,” Liz whispered.
Chris nodded, eying the space between them and the group of soldiers. Pre-occupied with their prisoners, the soldiers had taken their eyes from the surrounding trees. If Chris and Liz were quick, they could take them by surprise. Even with their goggles, the men would be at a disadvantage in the darkness, and in the confusion, Richard and the others might have a chance to slip free.
Silently, Chris gathered himself to attack.
Before he could move, a sharp crack came from behind them, and a voice growled from the darkness.
“Stop.”
7
Captain Scott crossed his arms as he watched his men securing the prisoners. Covered by their comrades, two stepped towards the boy, slinging their rifles over their backs as they moved. They grabbed the boy by each arm and forced them behind his back. The half-folded wings that sprouted from the small of his back made the task difficult, and the boy clearly had no intention of making things easier.
“Please,” the boy begged as a third soldier stepped forward with the handcuffs. “You don’t know what you’re do
ing. What they’ll do to us.”
Stepping forward, Scott stared down at the boy, reading the terror in his eyes. The prisoner tried to flinch away, but his men held him tight, looking to their captain in question.
Scott shook his head. His fist flashed out, catching the prisoner in the face. He reeled backwards, and only the men holding his arms kept him from falling.
“Silence,” Scott growled, “By the law of our land, you should be dead. You were offered mercy, offered a chance at redemption. But you threw it all away,” he raised his fist again, his anger catching light.
Before the blow could fall, a blood curdling howl echoed through the trees. He froze, staring at the prisoner for a second, and then whirled to face the forest. The darkness was absolute, but with the night vision goggles any heat signatures approaching their position would be obvious.
There was nothing.
His men shifted nervously around him as they scanned their surrounds, weapons at the ready. Scott took a step towards the trees, unslinging his rifle as he moved. Beyond the circle of his men, the forest was empty.
Shaking his head, he cast one last glance at the pitch-black trees, and then started to bark fresh orders to secure the prisoners. Before he could finish the command, an audible thud came from behind him.
And then someone began to scream.
Scott spun, raising his rifle to fire, already cursing his decision not to execute the prisoners. Whatever their orders, he should have trusted his instincts. He had seen Chead in action, glimpsed the aftermath of their slaughter inside the facility. However pathetic the three teenagers seemed, they were far too dangerous to hold.
But as he turned, he realised the three prisoners were still kneeling on the ground where he had left them. Making a decision, he pointed his rifle, but before he could fire the glowing outline of a man staggered into his line of sight. The man reached out a hand, fumbling at his vest, and then collapsed soundlessly to the ground.
As he went down, another figure moved within the circle of his men. Even in the strange glow of his night vision goggles, Scott knew it was not one of his men. That it was not even entirely human.
He stumbled backwards as the Chead leapt, its feral growl filling the darkness. Movement came from overhead, and then ethereal green figures were falling from the trees, landing amongst his men with cat-like grace.
And the night erupted in chaos.
The roar of gunfire snapped Scott from the beginnings of panic. He lifted his rifle and took aim at the silhouette stalking towards him, but before he could squeeze the trigger it dove behind the glowing bodies of his men. Cursing, Scott spun, barking orders as he searched for a fresh target.
“Men, form up on me! They’re in the trees!”
His orders fell on deaf ears as pandemonium swallowed up the disciplined order of his team. They stumbled back from the onslaught of the superhuman creatures, their formation shattered. The Chead darted amongst them like wolves in a henhouse, rending and tearing as they went. To his left a soldier reeled backwards, his high-pitched scream dying away as a fountain of green sprouted from his chest.
Scott fired as the Chead leapt from the soldier’s lifeless body. The bullets shrieked as they tore through a nearby tree trunk, but the creature was already gone, its powerful legs sending it soaring through the air. It landed with a thump on another of his men, driving him to the ground with a sharp crack.
Flashes of gunfire lit Scott’s night vision, blinding him for a moment. Turning his face away, he shouted again over clamour, his fear rising as years of iron discipline melted away.
“Men, on me, goddammit!” he hurled himself to the side as a body flew past where he had been standing. It crashed to the ground a few feet away and did not move.
Rolling across the pine needles, he rolled back to his feet. All around him, green figures blundered between the trees, all semblance of order lost. In the chaos, the prisoners had vanished, either killed or fled, but he no longer cared. Survival was his only goal now.
Glancing around, Scott realised he had drifted from the circle in which his men had been standing. He now found himself away amongst the trees, on the edges of the desperate battle between his men and the Chead.
Heart pounding, the captain gripped his rifle tight and weighed his options. Though the chatter of gunfire still sounded, it was clear from where he stood the battle was lost. The Chead were too fast, too powerful to combat in close quarters, especially in the darkness. The moment it took his men to distinguish between friend and foe was all the creatures needed.
No, this was a lost cause now. His men were as good as dead.
Closing his eyes, Scott forced himself to turn away. Shame rose in his throat as he started to run, to flee the chaos. The screams of dying men chased after him, rising up through the howls of the Chead, piercing him to his soul. A voice inside screamed for him to turn back, to stand alongside his men, to die a soldier’s death.
But his terror was greater still, and he raced through the darkness, desperate to escape the slaughter.
Scott froze as a sudden silence fell over the forest. He glanced back in the direction of the battle, suddenly hesitant. Had they succeeded after all? Had they done the impossible, and fought off the Chead? But he heard no triumphant cries, no wild shouts, no sound at all, in fact.
Swallowing, he looked around at the forest. It seemed deathly still now, without so much as the chirp of a cricket to break the silence. A shiver went through him, and then he was running again, a pure, unadulterated horror gripping him.
He ran for what felt like hours, stumbling over roots and crashing into the pale shadows of tree trunks. He ran without thought of where he was going, only of what came behind, of the death that stalked him through the darkness.
Finally, lungs burning, body aching, he found he could run no more. He staggered to a stop, shoulders heaving, one arm clutching at a tree trunk for support. Bending in two, he gasped in a lungful of air, struggling to catch his breath. In his desperate flight, he had lost all track of time, all sense of direction, but he must have traversed several miles by now.
Straightening, he let out a long breath and looked around. Somehow in his race through the forest he had kept hold of his rifle and night vision goggles. He studied his backtrail for a moment, searching for a hint of movement, for the tell-tale glow of warm bodies. But the forest remained empty, and nodding to himself, he turned away.
And froze as an ethereal green figure emerged from the trees ahead of him.
Soft laughter whispered through the trees as the Chead stepped towards him. Through the glow of his goggles, Scott watched a vicious grin twist its features. Out of sheer instinct, the captain raised his rifle, but the Chead was faster still. With brutal ease, it leapt forward, tore the weapon from his grasp, and hurled it into the trees.
Before Scott could move, iron fingers gripped him by the throat and lifted him into the air. The Chead stared up at him, its eyes bright in the glow of his goggles.
“Human,” the creature spoke in a guttural growl.
Scott gasped feebly in its hold, mouth wide, struggling for breath. He kicked out at the creature, slammed his fists into its arms, anything to break its hold. His lungs burned and darkness swirled at the edges of his vision, but nothing he did seemed to touch the creature.
As his vision began to fade, he remembered, finally, the EPIRB on his vest. It would bring help, send the helicopter straight to his location. With the last of his strength, he slammed his fist into the bottom on his shoulder. The EPIRB gave a low beep, and then fell silent.
A smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at the creature. His lungs screamed for air and a dull pounding drummed on the back of his skull, but help was on its way.
“You will not own us,” the Chead’s teeth flashed.
Scott opened his mouth to scream as the grip around his throat tightened. Stars flashed across his vision as the creature’s fist slammed into his head. Darkness loomed, threatening to swal
low him.
No! he screamed in the silence of his thoughts as the Chead raised its fist again.
And then everything went black.
8
“Go, go, go!” Chris shouted over the gunfire.
He darted under the flailing arm of a soldier and leapt towards Richard and Jasmine. The young girl was already on her feet, but the other two were slower to react. They still knelt on the ground, mouths wide, staring at the horror unfolding around them.
But there was no time to contemplate the fate of the soldiers. Springing forward, Chris grabbed Richard by the shirt collar and hauled him to his feet. Beside him, Liz did the same with Jasmine, and then they were moving again, pressing on through the dying men and howling Chead.
An instant later they were clear and amongst the trees, leaving the chatter of gunshots and blood-curdling screams behind. Chris glanced around as they raced through the forest, catching glimpses of the others as they stumbled over unseen obstacles. They made no effort to mask their passage. If the Chead had wanted them dead, they would already be in the ground.
Instead, the creatures had saved them.
Chris swallowed as he ran, remembering the Chead’s sudden appearance beside them. The creature had frozen them with a look, its cold grey eyes stealing away their voices. Silently, it had lifted a finger to its lips and shook its head. Then it was gone.
A few seconds later, the screaming had started.
Now as Chris fled, questions raced through his mind, one after another. Who were these Chead? Where had they come from? Why were the creatures helping them?
But there was no time to stop and wait for answers. Despite the Chead having the element of surprise, the soldiers were well-trained and well-armed. And if they prevailed, he doubted they would still be in the mood to take prisoners.