Synbat

Chapter 15

"Slow. Slow. Lower." Sergeant Major Powers was leaning out the side of the UH-60 helicopter, looking at the surface of the water as he spoke into the headset, guiding the pilot down. The dark water of Lake Barkley was being churned by the downdraft of the blades as the helicopter glided along slowly at an altitude of ten feet and a forward speed of ten knots.

Powers glanced at the other three men in the aircraft. He received thumbs-up from all. "We're launching," he announced to the pilots.

"Roger." The left pilot was looking over his shoulder at the men in the back while the right one flew the aircraft.

"Releasing!" Powers yelled as he slammed his open palm on the quick release for the Zodiac slung beneath the helicopter. The boat separated and dropped.

Powers pointed at the two forwardmost men sitting on either edge of the cargo bay. "GO!" They threw their waterproofed rucksacks overboard and immediately pushed off, following the rucks.

Powers slid his legs over the edge of the aircraft. "GO!" he yelled over his shoulder, and the other man went as he did. The four men were all out within six seconds.

As Powers had exited the aircraft he threw his ruck — attached with a fifteen-foot safety line — out ahead, then pushed himself off, tucking his head into his chin and putting his hands behind his neck. The shock of the cold water as he speared into it took his breath away. The air that was trapped inside his dry suit popped him to the surface. He put on his fins, pulled his ruck in close, and, lying on his back, stroked toward the Zodiac.

He clambered on board, his injured knee protesting the contortion. Two of the other members of the team were already putting the forty-horsepower engine onto its mounting and priming it. They were from the B Company, 3d Battalion, scuba team. The team sergeant had been on emergency leave all week, so Powers had quickly volunteered to be acting team sergeant for this operation. In the confusion of the alert and deployment, the battalion commander had not discovered the move.

The engine roared to life, and Powers directed them to their designated position. As they moved, Powers had one of the men unzip his dry suit; he peeled it off, then returned the favor.

A second helicopter flashed by overhead and another boat was dropped along with four men a hundred meters farther up the lake. Within ten minutes there were nine boats in the water, spread out in a loose line from the Bacon Creek Boat Ramp, south to below Fords Bay. Overhead, an OH-6 gunship from Task Force 160 flitted by, minigun slung off the right skid, pilots scanning the water.

Powers slid a round into the chamber of his M16 and smiled. He was back in action. The pain from his injured knee was a dull ache submerged in the rush of adrenaline.

Riley watched the bustle of activity going on around him: Helicopters landed and took off and a secure communications network was set up so that General Williams could control his forces. A colonel from General Williams's staff was giving an updated operations briefing on the situation, and Riley was hanging on the fringes of the command group, listening in. His disheveled appearance and the glare in his eye kept the young lieutenant flunky from shooing him out of the area.

"Both bridges over Route 68, traversing the LBL area, are now sealed. We have Special Forces soldiers from 2d Battalion, 5th Group, guarding the exit routes, and Kentucky State Police on the far sides keeping people from coming in." The man slapped a pointer on a map tacked to an easel. "The only other bridge, twenty miles north, here where the Trace exits the park, is also in the process of being closed off. We are allowing traffic out but none in.

"We are primarily using 5th Group soldiers on this mission because of their security clearances. However, the southern perimeter to the park is entirely land and will require more troops to secure than 5th Group can provide. Because of that, two battalions from the 101st Division are currently loading out to deploy along the length of Route 79 from where it crosses Lake Barkley to Kentucky Lake. They will use the road as their picket line, orienting north."

The pointer slid up along Lake Barkley and then bounced over to Kentucky Lake. "In addition to the Special Forces' Zodiacs in the water, helicopters from Task Force 160 are overflying both lakes, searching for any movement in the water. In all, we are surrounding almost one hundred seventy thousand acres of forest."

That seemed like a heck of a lot of forest for three creatures to hide in, Riley thought. He was glad that they were finally bringing in what seemed to be an adequate force to deal with the problem, but he wished it had happened twenty-four hours ago.

"How are you going to find the Synbats once you get the perimeter secure?" General Trollers asked.

"We will use OH-6 helicopter gunships from Task Force 160 against the Synbats. The integrated thermal sights on the aircraft should be able to find the creatures, even under the trees." The briefer paused. "Unfortunately, there are still civilians in the park and the heat signature from a Synbat and a human is too similar. We have to hold off until we get the park clear.

"The basic concept is to use the remaining daylight today to seal the park and use tomorrow to clear the park of all civilians. Then Saturday night, the OH-6 gunships will overfly the park using thermal sights to aim their miniguns. We also have a Spectre gunship en route from Hurlburt Air Force Base right now, which will give us a platform that can stay on target for a continuous period of time and use its low-level-light television to supplement the helicopters. Anything that has two arms and two legs will be gunned down and the location marked. Teams from 5th Group will be in the air on UH-60 lift aircraft and immediately land at all shooting sites to investigate the remains."

Riley's team was one of those designated. There were two other A teams at the headquarters site with the same mission. Riley agreed with the decision to go after the Synbats from the air. He didn't relish the idea of going after them on the ground again, even with dogs, especially now that the creatures were armed.

"If you don't get them tomorrow night, the pods will initiate the next morning. It doesn't leave you much slack." Merrit's comment caught the briefing officer off guard.

Trollers stood to reply. "We know that. We don't have much choice. The weather is still too bad to use the tracking dogs. We have no other means to go after them tonight. We could try the thermals, but there is a Civil War reenactment group just four miles from here, which means almost a thousand people, and they're spread out, getting ready to play war tomorrow. There are also a few campers and hunters in the park area. We're in the process of getting those people out of here, but I don't think we can find them all before dawn. Tomorrow we'll go along all the trails with loudspeakers. That ought to get everyone alerted and out.

"Also we do have to be concerned about security. The cover story being used with the civilian authorities is that we've had some armed military prisoners escape from Fort Campbell and we are tracking them down."

Riley wondered how that cover story was flying. The DIA was obviously scrambling to keep the lid on, even though the temperature on the pot had been rising for the last two days.

Colonel Hossey asked the question that had just occurred to Riley. "How can we be sure we get all of the Synbats if we miss them tomorrow night and the pods do initiate?"

Doctor Merrit stood. The tent full of army men turned and listened as the diminutive doctor spoke, her voice cracking from the strain of the past few days. "There's a maximum of twenty-eight Synbats possibly being born Thursday morning. Although not that many will actually survive, I can't give you an exact number. If we could find the location where the backpacks initiate, then we should be able to find the remains of those that don't survive, and that would give us an accurate number. The most dangerous possibility is if we cannot account for a mating pair."

General Trollers held up his palm to forestall any more ominous words. "We'll find them before the pods initiate." He stood up, signaling that the briefing was over. "Let's get to work."

Louis was bothered by the helicopters flying overhead. How could he pretend to be living in 1863 with a constant reminder of the modern age intruding on his senses. The 7th Cavalry was deployed in a line along the north flank of the Union lines in preparation for the battle tomorrow.

Louis was throwing sticks in the fire he'd built, waiting for the coffee in the pot to boil. His brother, Jeremiah, was still acting spooked. Damn kid spent too much time in the woods back home, and he listened to that preacher way too often.

Between those strange things in the trees earlier in the day, the helicopters, and the lousy weather, Louis was beginning to lose his enthusiasm for this reenactment. He longed for the warmth of his home and wife back in Illinois.

High overhead a large buzzard had been circling Fords Bay for ten minutes. Finally it swooped down, wings spread wide against the tricky air currents that played along the cliff face. Talons splayed, the bird passed through some branches and landed on a large pile of rotting flesh. Pay dirt. The buzzard's pea-sized brain registered elation. Its beak plunged into the carrion. The bird was working on a second swallow when its senses were alerted to a threat. Expanding its wings, it lifted in one swift sweep.

Too late. One of its legs was grasped from below. For a moment there was a curious balance between the wildly beating wings and the weight from below. The grasp tightened. The buzzard made one last surge to break free, squawking loudly.

On the water Powers had been watching the bird circling in the waning daylight. He heard the desperate squawk echo across the water and waited for the buzzard to reappear in the sky. After five minutes and no sign of the bird, he pulled out his map.

The northern shoreline of Fords Bay showed tight contour lines representing a cliff. They'd been briefed that the creatures they were hunting could climb trees, so it made sense that they could climb rock. It looked like there were only two ways to get into the small sliver of shoreline at the base of the cliff: climbing down from the top or coming in from the water.

Powers waved his hand above his head at the other two boats, signaling for them to stay in place and cover his area. He turned to the other men in the boat. "We're going into that bay over there. I want you to keep your eyes open. I saw a buzzard go down there not too long ago and I want to check it out. Let's go."

In a minute they reached the entrance to the bay. Powers pushed a low overhanging branch out of the way as they passed through. After the tight entrance, the bay opened up to about a hundred meters wide. It looked like a long green cathedral as the setting sun angled through the high trees on either side. The ground on the north gained in altitude, rising to become cliffs. On the south side was a relatively level tree-covered bank.

The navigator — Cartwright — had the engine idled down low, the boat moving along slowly. After a couple hundred meters, Powers signaled a temporary halt. "Do you smell that?"

Cartwright nodded. "Something died in there."

"Move in along the shore. I'll watch for depth and obstacles."

Cartwright edged the boat closer. The Zodiac drew only a few inches of water, but the propeller went almost a foot deeper. Powers kept switching his gaze from the shoreline to the water directly in front of the boat. Trees were crowded in the thin spit of land between the cliff and the water, with thick undergrowth choking the space between the trunks.

Finally the smell was so strong that Powers signaled Cartwright to halt, and they took cravats from their first-aid kits to use as makeshift face masks. Powers had smelled death before; whatever was rotting up ahead was no squirrel. It was big.

They moved in closer. An uneasy knot formed in Powers's gut. He flicked the selector lever on his M16 to semiautomatic.

"Hold it!" His voice was muffled by the green cloth wrapped around his nose and mouth. Cartwright killed the engine and joined him in the front of the boat. The other two men had their weapons at the ready, covering the flanks.

Ten feet away on the shore, they could make out piles of white bones in the undergrowth.

"I'm going ashore. Cover me."

Powers slid over the side of the boat into the surprisingly chilly water. The dark surface lapped around his waist until he got close to shore. Pushing aside branches, he began to take in the scope of what he'd just found.

"Bring in the boat," Powers yelled. He scanned the trees and the cliff face for any movement, the muzzle of his weapon following his eyes. As far as he could tell, the bones were from animals, but he didn't want to make a personal contribution to the ghastly pile.

After the Zodiac was beached and tied off on a tree, Powers deployed the three men in a skirmish line facing the cliff. He didn't need to give them any warnings. The signs of death were present everywhere.

"Take a look around. Make sure you keep checking out the trees."

Less than five seconds later, Cartwright's voice broke the silence. "Over here, Sergeant Major!"

Powers pushed through to where the man was standing. Large bones were covered with tattered flesh and mingled with rotting internal organs. Powers could recognize the three skulls: horses.

Powers looked up the cliff face. They'd fallen off the edge of the cliff and landed here. He didn't think horses were stupid enough to do that on their own — not three, one after another. Something had run them off the cliff. And then that something had dined on the carcasses.

His thoughts were interrupted by another man's yell. "Sergeant Major!"

Powers made his way to where the other two men were standing. One was in the process of losing his dinner; upon arriving Powers could understand why.

The body was battered, and most of the flesh on both legs was gone, but the two clear blue eyes stared up at the gathering darkness with a peaceful look about them.

They'd found Emma Plunket.