Synbat

Chapter 7

Hapscomb cracked his eyelids and watched as he lay on the ground pretending to be asleep. Mrs. Werner was getting out of the tent. In the dim starlight, his eyes followed her as she made her way toward the wood line. Hapscomb smiled to himself. A call of nature most likely, but he felt his own call of nature. He rolled off his sleeping pad and lightly stepped across the clearing toward the trees where the woman had disappeared.

She hadn't gone too far into the woods. Hapscomb gave her some time to finish her business and then stepped up as she was still buttoning her tight-fitting jeans.

Mrs. Werner looked up, startled at the noise. "What are you doing here?" she whispered.

Hapscomb let loose his winning smile, apparently unaware that it was wasted in the dark woods. "I just wanted to see if those looks you gave me all day were just a tease or whether you were willing to follow through."

The lack of an immediate negative response prompted Hapscomb to pull her over next to him. She looked up at him with large dark eyes as he reached out for her.

"I've got two heat sources. Two legs, two arms on each. Due west."

All right! Riley thought on hearing Seay's report. This was their second rotation back up the search area. "Guide us in, Doc. I'm going to put the goggles on to see what we have."

As Doc Seay directed the pilots in a banking left-hand turn, Riley carefully stowed the thermal sight in its tied-down case and pulled out a set of PVS-5 night vision goggles. He slipped the bulky goggles over his head and turned them on.

The ambient light was immediately computer enhanced and he saw as if it were daylight. The only drawbacks were that everything was represented in varying shades of green, and there was a certain lack of depth perception. As Riley slid over to the left side of the helicopter next to Seay, he wondered how the pilots could fly using the things; even though their PVS-6s were an upgraded model, it was still very difficult to operate with them on. Riley had a hard time walking while wearing them. On the other hand he supposed it beat flying without any sort of night vision device.

"Where's the target?" Captain Barret asked.

"See that clearing about four hundred meters to our left front on the hilltop?" Doc Seay directed.

"Roger that."

"It's off to the north of that clearing about ten meters inside the tree line. I'm also getting a heat source from the clearing. Real hot. Looks like a campfire."

"Damn," Riley cursed. "I see a tent in that clearing. If your heat source is our monkeys, they're close to that tent. I can't spot the other heat source you see in the thermals. The trees are too thick."

The pilot pointed the nose of the aircraft straight for the clearing. "I'm going to put us in the center of the clearing and let you guys off."

Riley grabbed his M16. The pilot flared the helicopter and Riley hopped out as soon as the skids touched the ground. He could see someone crawling out of the large dome tent, hunched against the blast of wind from the blades.

"U.S. Army. Stay in place, please." Riley ran past a confused man who was yelling, "What's going on?"

Riley ran into the tree line where Seay had indicated. Immediately he spotted a white shape to his left front. Riley drew down on the target, his finger easing over the trigger.

Whoa! Riley said to himself, forcing his arm to relax.

"What's the meaning of this?" the woman demanded, squinting into the dark as she struggled to button her blouse. The man was trying to buckle his belt.

The older man who had crawled out of the tent showed up, shining a huge flashlight. Riley shut off his goggles to prevent them from overloading. He slid them off his head, allowing them to dangle on their dummy cord around his neck.

"Marjorie, what were you doing?" the man demanded.

Riley watched as the woman squirmed under the glare of the flashlight. Whatever he had interrupted, it looked as though he wasn't the only one who was going to catch some shit. Riley decided to do some quick explaining and get the hell out. Doc Seay had run up and was taking in the spot-lit scene.

"I'm sorry, ma'am… sir," Riley said, indicating all three people. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a young girl of nine or ten standing next to the tent, staring at the still running helicopter in the middle of the clearing. "I'm Chief Riley from Fort Campbell. We're out here investigating reports of some rabid animals and we spotted your campsite through our thermal sights and landed to investigate. I apologize if we caused you any inconvenience. We'll be taking off now and won't bother you again."

Riley headed for the chopper. The man from the tent was obviously torn between jumping on Riley for landing on top of them and confronting the woman, who apparently was his wife, about her little liaison in the woods.

"What did you say your name was again?" the balding little man asked as Riley brushed by him.

"Uh, that's Chief Ryan. R-Y-A-N, sir. I'm with the 101st Airborne Division at Fort Campbell."

Riley rapidly left the little man behind and jogged toward the bird, followed by Seay. They hopped on board and Riley grabbed his headset. "Let's get the hell out of Dodge, Captain."

"Roger that." Barret applied cyclic, pulled in collective, and the aircraft was airborne.

Riley was treated to the sound of Doc Seay laughing as the other man put on his headset. "Chief Ryan, huh? 101st, eh? You silver-tongued bastard. What was going on down there anyway?"

Riley allowed himself a laugh, too, now that they were out of there. "Looks like we caught a lady with someone who wasn't her husband, doing something she should have been doing only with her husband. I don't think they're going to be happy campers tonight."

It took them a minute or two to regain their composure, by which time the helicopter was about four kilometers away from the Werners' campsite.

"All right. Let's resume the pattern. Back to the thermals," Riley ordered.

Hapscomb could hear the angry hiss of the Werners arguing inside their tent. He felt a bit sorry for the little girl having to witness all that. He felt nothing but contempt for Mister Werner. The little worm hadn't even had the balls to confront him. After the helicopter lifted, Werner had simply grabbed his wife by the arm and dragged her over to their tent, completely ignoring Hapscomb.

What a wimp, Hapscomb thought. And what was going on with the army landing like that? The fellow wearing the funny-looking goggles had scared the living shit out of Hapscomb, especially when he pointed that M16 at them. The man looked like he was ready to blow them both away in a heartbeat.

Rabid animals, the soldier had said. That was a bunch of bullshit, too. They wouldn't call in the army for that. Sons of bitches had ruined a good piece of ass for him. Hapscomb pulled out his bota and took another drag. A great night ruined 'cause of some fucking army cowboys. He'd be damned lucky if Werner didn't complain to McClanahan and get his ass fired. Son of a bitch sure wouldn't —

Hapscomb's thoughts froze in place as he heard the horses whinny. His eyes narrowed as he looked over to the tree line where he had picketed them. In the dim starlight he could make out all four horses pulling tight against the picket line, straining to get away from the line of black that indicated the edge of the clearing.

What had spooked them? Hapscomb rolled off his sleeping pad and threw on a shirt. One of the horses starting bucking. Hapscomb broke into a jog to reach them.

He ran a hand along a quivering flank. "Whoa, girl, easy. Easy." He looked at the darkened forest that seemed to be the source of the horses' terror. What was out there? Hapscomb had heard old stories of an occasional bear in the area, but there hadn't been any spotted for the last ten years or so.

"What's the matter with them?" Mister Werner demanded as he strode angrily across the clearing, waving the flashlight.

"I don't know. Something's spooked them."

"Well, you'd better calm them down and let my wife and daughter get some sleep. You've caused enough trouble as it is."

Hapscomb wanted to laugh at the sight of the little bald man standing there, looking so righteous in his pajamas. At that moment, however, the horses swung around, catching Hapscomb off guard. They jumped to the left, pushing him out of the way.

Hapscomb looked to the right. Whatever was spooking the horses was moving around the outside of the clearing toward the tent. For the first time, Hapscomb felt a small knot of uneasiness begin to bind his guts. Something was wrong. He'd seen spooked horses before, but not like this. Whatever it was had to be damn close if it was moving that quickly around the camp.

Hapscomb forgot about his problems with Werner. He spoke tersely. "Mister Werner, I think it might be a good idea to get your wife and daughter out of the tent. We'll build up the fire a bit. I don't know what's got the horses all riled up, but I don't like it."

Werner, however, wasn't so quick to forget recent events. "You're just trying to make it seem like you know what you're doing — like you're protecting us to save your job. Don't think I'm not going to report what you did. Don't try to make a little scene here to — "

Hapscomb caught a brief glimpse of something — damned if he knew what it was — moving in the tree line, about fifty feet from the tent.

He ran past the flabbergasted Werner, yelling, "Mrs. Werner! Christie! Get out of the tent!"

As if his yelling was the cue, all hell broke loose. In the space of less than a second, several different facts registered on Hapscomb's various senses.

Two figures broke from the trees, making a beeline for the tent. They were about five and a half feet tall and ran with an unusually swift loping stride. Hapscomb caught a shadowy glimpse of them in the starlight and his heart froze. They had to be demons from hell.

Mrs. Werner stuck her head out of the tent and asked puzzledly, "What?" Mister Werner had started after Hapscomb, yelling, "You son of a bitch, what do you think — "

Hapscomb felt that time had slowed down. His brain was screaming at him to get to the tent, but it seemed as though he was running in slow motion. Mrs. Werner still hadn't spotted the two figures heading for her when, to Hapscomb's consternation, the figures turned and headed toward him. He screeched to a halt in the knee-high grass and switched direction. An old joke he'd once heard ran insanely through his mind as he reversed course: Two friends are camping and one comes racing back to camp yelling that he's being chased by a bear. As the man goes by, the friend asks: "Do you think you can outrun a bear?" The first man answers, "No, but I can outrun you."

Hapscomb glanced over his shoulder. Dear God, they were moving fast. They were only ten feet behind him when he passed Mister Werner.

Poor Werner never knew what hit him. One of the demons went high and the other low. Werner let out a surprised grunt from the impact of almost three hundred pounds of flesh. The grunt was replaced by the most terrifying scream Hapscomb had ever heard. He stopped and looked back. Werner's body made a few spastic jerks and then was still, one of the figures straddling the body, the other off to the side, all in the course of less than five seconds.

In the sudden quiet, Hapscomb's breathing sounded loud in his own ears. That sound was split by the scream of Mrs. Werner. At the noise, the two intruders swung their gaze over to the tent, where Mrs. Werner stood, her daughter beside her.

Oh sweet Lord! Hapscomb thought. Please help us. He wanted to yell at Mrs. Werner to shut up, but he was too scared. Any noise and they might head his way, and God knows he didn't want that.

As if on cue, the two figures swung away from Werner's body and casually loped toward Mrs. Werner and her daughter. They seemed to know that this new prey wasn't overly dangerous and they could take their time.

Distract them! one part of Hapscomb's mind screamed at him. Get the fuck out of here! the stronger, self-preservation side ordered. As quickly as he could, without attracting attention, Hapscomb sidled back toward the quivering horses. He kept his eyes on the scene being played out before him. It was like some bad horror movie, except that it was happening for real and he knew he was letting it happen.

The two creatures moved smoothly. One circled right and the other left. Mrs. Werner was frozen, her arms clasping her daughter. In tandem the two beasts accelerated their lope into the terrifying charge that had killed her husband.

Mrs. Werner finally reacted, stepping in front of her daughter in a last gesture of maternal instinct. They took her down quickly; she didn't even have a chance to scream as her throat was torn out.

Hapscomb untied and mounted his horse as he watched Mrs. Werner die. Christie now did the smartest thing that any of the Werner family had done that evening. Instead of screaming or running, the girl started slowly moving away from the scene of her mother's dismemberment. Hapscomb was touched by the girl's pathetic bravery and common sense. He checked his horse, which was trying to bolt. If Christie could make it halfway across the clearing, he'd try to pick her up.

Come on, Christie, Hapscomb prayed silently. The two demons still had their snouts stuck in Mrs. Werner. Bastards must like fresh meat, Hapscomb thought wildly. He watched the girl pick up speed as she got farther away from them.

She was halfway across the clearing, yet Hapscomb didn't act on his earlier silent promise. His conscience railed at him, but his ego told him that those things were too damned fast. They'd get both the girl and him if he moved now. Another ten feet and then he'd —

One of the creatures lifted its head and swung a dripping snout in the direction of Christie and, just beyond, Hapscomb. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Christ, no, he thought. I don't want to die like that. He dug his heels into the horse and turned for the trail off to his right rear. At that, the two leapt off the body of Mrs. Werner.

Hapscomb hit the trail at a full gallop. No way could they outrun Angel — she was damned fast. Hapscomb wasn't going to stop until he hit the goddamn Golden Pond Visitor Center, where he knew that there was a twenty-four-hour attendant. Lock the fucking doors and call the goddamn cops. Call the fucking army —

Hapscomb's entire body went rigid as Christie's scream pierced the night. She wailed again and again. Finish her! you demons, Hapscomb prayed as he rode away. Why were they taking so long? After ten long seconds Christie's cries abruptly ceased.

Hapscomb shut Christie out of his mind. The fucking army, he realized. Those things are why that helicopter landed tonight. Rabid animals, my ass. Whatever those things are, they have never been in this area, rabid or not. They aren't anything he'd ever seen before.

As he rode, Hapscomb weighed going directly to the Wrangler Camp, which held the closest phone, but he decided against it. He might be able to make a phone call, but he was afraid that the demons would trail him there and attack.

In another mile he'd hit Lick Creek Road. He'd turn right on that, then in another eight miles or so he'd hit the Golden Pond Visitor Center. He wondered if the attendant there had a gun.

Hapscomb slowed Angel just a bit. Nice and steady, girl, he thought. Just get me there. I sure don't want to have you come up lame on me now.

The horse settled into a steady canter and a quarter mile of road flew by. Soon Lick Creek Road. Hell, there might even be a late night car on the road, although that was extremely doubtful, Hapscomb knew.

Suddenly Angel halted and whinnied. She shook her head from side to side and skittered sideways, almost into the drainage ditch at the side of the dirt road.

What the fuck? Hapscomb wondered, and then he knew. He couldn't see or hear or smell anything, but he just knew, they were coming.

God Lord Jesus! Hapscomb wanted to cry. Didn't they have enough back there at the camp? Why'd they have to come after him? In answer, the side of the brain that Hapscomb had overridden in making all his decisions so far this evening whispered its indictment: Because you left the girl to die, asshole, that's why.

Aw, fuck. It ain't fair! Hapscomb gouged his boots into Angel's sides. The horse unexpectedly bucked and, without a saddle, Hapscomb slid off and slammed into the dirt. The horse wasn't stupid. Without the extra weight it took off, sprinting into the darkness away from the bad spirits.

Hapscomb shook his head groggily and rolled to his knees. His right leg throbbed with pain. Must have busted something, he thought idly. He peered back down the road. Where were they? He could see little in the dark. He started crawling down the road, his bad leg dragging in the dirt, eyes peering backward, waiting for those two forms to appear.

They leapt out of the trees above his head. Hapscomb's last thought as his throat was crushed was to pray to God that he be forgiven for leaving the girl to die. But his conscience told him to expect the gates of hell.

Riley yawned as the Huey settled down into the parking lot. In the glare of the building's arc lights he could see Colonel Lewis standing there, waiting for the blades to stop turning. Riley was in no rush to face Lewis. He sat back on the web seat as the pilots slowly decreased throttle until the transmission disengaged. For the next two minutes the massive blades whooped by overhead, slowing slightly on each revolution. Finally they halted.

Riley stepped off, followed by Seay, as Lewis strode up. "Well?"

Riley rubbed his aching eyes. "We spotted quite a few deer, lots of smaller creatures, and one campsite where two people were screwing each other out in the woods — but no monkeys."

Lewis shook his head. "Not good enough. You all need to go back up."

Captain Barret overheard and interjected from where he was tying down the blades. "Sir, with all due respect, we've just put in two hours of goggle time. We also flew for four hours today on and off. That puts us over our limit for crew rest. The — "

"I don't give a shit about your crew rest, Captain. I want you back up in the air now."

Barret faced the irate DIA colonel. "Sir, you're not authorized to make us break flight regulations. We don't need crew rest just because we feel a little tired. We need it because we're not too far away from putting this bird into a tree. My eyeballs feel like someone's turned them inside out. I'm not safe to be flying now. Besides that, there's a front coming in and I don't think we're going to be able to do much more flying for a while. At least not at night."

Lewis stabbed a finger at the other helicopter. "What about them? That crew has been sitting on their ass inside the building all evening. They've had plenty of rest. I want them up in the air now."

Barret shook his head. "Sorry, sir. Neither of those pilots are current in NVGs. They're not authorized to do that kind of mission."

Lewis shook his head. "Jesus fucking Christ. What a bunch of wimps." He turned and stalked off toward the lab building.

Riley grinned at the captain. "You sure know how to piss off the colonel, sir."

Barret shrugged. "I'm not going to corkscrew one of these birds into the ground looking for a couple of monkeys in the dark. If it was something important I'd do it, but this is bullshit."

Amen to that, Riley thought. He respected the captain for being safety conscious. He'd seen too many men overextend themselves needlessly and get themselves and others killed because of it. You pushed yourself to the extent that the circumstances justified. If this was a combat mission, he'd have been the first to get on the pilot's ass.

The night sky was rent by a mournful howl echoing from the west. Riley turned and looked out in that direction. Next to him, Doc Seay muttered, "What was that, Dave?"

Riley shook his head. "I don't know." It was something Riley couldn't recall ever hearing, and it sent a chill down his back. He was glad that whatever had made that noise was on the far side of the lake. His next thought was to wonder if that noise had anything to do with their mission. Could monkeys howl like that?

After entering the building, his first act was to grab SSgt. John Carter, the team's lone commo man. "Did you get the message off?"

Carter grinned. "Roger that, chief. Went into the woods, out of range of the cameras on the roof, to send. I imagine that old Sergeant Major Powers was back there copying my manual code to check on it."

Riley smiled back. "Yeah, I'm sure he was. Makes him feel useful. All right. Make sure you get our receive tomorrow morning, and don't let these people know."

"No problem."

Riley tapped him on the shoulder as he passed by. "Good job, John."

Riley rolled off his camping pad and slipped on his boots. The noise of his team members sleeping on the floor of the large office produced a low rumble of mingled snores. Riley carefully stepped over bodies and made his way out the door into the main floor hallway.

He glanced to his left. The elevator leading to the basement was unguarded, but Riley also knew that a DIA man was on duty at the front security console, which monitored this hallway. He was tempted to flip the bird to the camera perched above the far door, but refrained. Riley didn't trust any of the DIA men, and Lewis probably wouldn't see the humor in it.

Riley turned right to make his way to the men's room. As he did so, a door opened almost directly across from him and Doctor Merrit stepped out. She looked surprised at his presence in the hallway.

"Excuse me, I hope I didn't startle you," Riley told her softly.

She shook her head and then, with a quick look down the hallway, gestured for Riley to follow her back into her office. Curious, Riley obliged, shutting the door behind him. He wasn't sure if the guard had seen the brief encounter on the monitor, whether he'd been looking at that particular screen at that particular time. Riley had a feeling that Colonel Lewis wouldn't approve of him talking to either Ward or Merrit without his presence.

As soon as he stepped into Merrit's office, Riley realized that it really didn't matter if they had been seen on the hallway monitor; there was also a camera in this room.

"What's up, ma'am?" Riley inquired. He estimated that it would take the DIA man at the console about half a minute, maybe less, to get someone down here.

Merrit grabbed his arm and looked up into his eyes. For the first time Riley noticed that she had dark green eyes behind those thick glasses. Those eyes were open wide now and had a wild look. Her voice shook and the skin under one eye jerked with a tic. "There's some things that Ward and Lewis didn't tell you about this lab and about what you're doing."

No shit, Riley was tempted to say. Let's go, let's go, Riley thought, watching the doorway out of the corner of his eye. "Like what?"

"You need to be very careful when you're going after the so-called monkeys. They're much, much more than that. They're — "

The door swung open and Freeman, the black DIA agent, stood there. "I'm sorry. You two are not to be talking without supervision. Doctor Merrit, you should know better. You were instructed not to interact with any personnel here without permission. Mister Riley, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Riley nodded good-naturedly, although inside he was seething. Fucking spooks and their goddamn games. People got killed because of their little secrets. He wondered who the real enemy was here.

Riley headed toward the door. As he brushed by Freeman, he turned and looked back over his shoulder at Merrit. "Good night, Doctor. Hope you sleep well."

As Freeman pulled the door shut, Riley turned and faced him. "With all due respect, sir — and to be quite honest the only respect I hold for you or your partners right now is based purely on rank — what is going on?"

Freeman looked uncomfortable. "What do you mean?"

Riley let out a low incredulous laugh. "Come on, sir! What's the big secret? Why don't you want us talking to Ward and Merrit? A blind man could tell that you all aren't leveling with us. Why don't you trust us? I've been on more classified missions than you've read about."

Freeman shook his head. "There's nothing more that you have a need to know."

Riley leaned toward Freeman, his short, lean body causing even the hulking ex-football player to back up slightly. Riley's amiable appearance was gone, replaced by the intense fury of a man poised on the edge of violence. "Just between you and me, Major, I want you to understand something. If one of my men gets hurt because you all didn't fill us in on what's going on here, I'm going to have your ass. I don't give a shit about your fucking rank or the fucking DIA. That isn't a threat. That's a promise written in blood."

Riley stared hard at Freeman until the bigger man dropped his gaze.

"There's nothing more you need to know," Freeman muttered.

Riley nodded. "Just as long as you know where we stand."