This Green Hell

FOUR

Alex Hunter crouched at the tree line and sucked in a deep breath of pine-scented spring warmth. Using his hand as a shield, he squinted into the distance at the crystal, tumbling waters of the French Broad River — wouldn’t be long before it had a fly fisherman or two in its shallows. Asheville this time of year was magnificent, and with the national park close by, a small population of folks who were more than happy to mind their own business, and plenty of white-tailed deer, elk and rabbit, it was a place where you could really live. And, if you wanted to, it was also a place you could get … lost. Perhaps that’s why his mother had settled here after his father passed away. The property at the foot of the Black Mountains was a lot of acreage for one woman, two horses and an enormous German Shepherd, but Alex guessed she was happy to let nature share it with her; and if it decided to intrude from time to time, so be it.

Alex kept his eyes narrowed. Though the sun was behind him, he was a mile distant from the property and even his enhanced vision had trouble picking out the details. He pulled a small scope from his pocket and thumbed the resolution button. As he’d expected, his mother was on the front porch, a magazine open on her chest as she lay snoozing on her favourite swing bench. Her dog, Jess, lay in front of her — close by as always.

His mother looked content, peaceful — maybe a little greyer than he remembered, but otherwise no different. He wished he could talk to her. His father had been gone ten years now, and a few years back she had been told that Alex, her only son, had been killed on a mission overseas. She probably thought she had lost everyone, but she hadn’t. Alex was very much alive, and every day he longed to tell her that she wasn’t alone.

But it was impossible. After his accident, the treatment and his recovery, and the resulting physical and mental changes, his entire existence now belonged to Hammerson and the HAWCs. His fighting force was one of the most lethal and covert that had ever existed — they were ghosts. Hammerson once described them as ‘cleaners’ — someone makes a mess and the HAWCs clean it up before it gets any worse. No headlines or applause.

In Alex’s line of work, friends were rare, but enemies were numerous. Enemies who would think nothing of wiping out an entire family if it meant an opportunity to bring pain, even indirectly, to a HAWC. His abilities made him nearly untouchable, but his mother …

He gazed at the sleeping woman and dog on the sunny porch, his face a mix of regret and resignation. While he was dead, she was safe.

The German Shepherd waggled her ears to bat away an over-attentive bee and lifted her head. A bit more silver in the muzzle, but at about a hundred pounds of muscle still formidable enough to see off the largest intruder — four- or two-legged.

Look after her, Jess, Alex thought.

The dog raised her head and tested the air, then looked towards the tree line where Alex crouched. He froze, keeping his eyes on the house. His comm unit vibrated once in his pocket and he ignored it, but in another few seconds it double vibrated — urgent. He pulled the small silver box free. On its screen were just three letters: HIR.

Alex grunted: HAWC–Immediate-Recall. He melted back into the trees.

Alex listened to the recording in silence.

‘Play it again,’ he said, and this time he leaned in and closed his eyes.

Colonel Jack Hammerson sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head. ‘Sounds like a grizzly attack.’

‘Not a bear … not any animal. That sound came from a human throat.’ Alex opened his eyes and looked at his superior officer, his face unreadable. ‘It’s not a language, Jack, or not one that I know of. Human vocal cords definitely produced it, but there’s something wrong with the throat — it’s warped somehow, or there’s something stuck in it.’

Hammerson knew Alex’s hearing was acute enough to pick up the super and subsonic ranges. If he said the noise came out of some guy’s mouth, it did.

‘Captain Michaels and the rest — we believe they’re all dead. Something down there surprised them and took ‘em all out — and that isn’t easy to do to six heavily armed Green Berets.’ Hammerson was sitting forward in his chair now, his fingers locked together.

‘And now they want us to take a look?’ Alex said.

Hammerson gave a humourless half-smile. ‘Yes and no. I’ve requested this one, for a number of reasons. Firstly, it’s a critically important project for the USA, and as the whole region down there is a little anti-Uncle Sam we need to deal with this delicately — and be mindful of how others see us dealing with it. We can’t park the seventh fleet off the coast of Brazil and fly low-altitude sorties over the jungle, or march 200 marines in there. Paraguay is a small pool of friendship in the midst of an ocean of distrust and aggravation — we have to respect their sovereignty and requests. At this point, they want us to help but not be ham-fisted about it.’

Alex nodded. The rationale didn’t really matter to him. If his friend and mentor asked him to lead a team into hell, he would oblige. ‘I haven’t caught up with the teams yet. I’ll need to find out who’s available. I’m not sure who’s on base or still out in the field.’

Hammerson grinned. ‘It’s already done. I’ve pulled in Mak and Franks, and I believe Sam has just completed his rehabilitation. He’s still sore, and probably needs another few weeks of physical therapy, but you know Sam — he’ll be ready to go whenever we say.’

Alex nodded. ‘What about Adira? She could be useful.’

Hammerson shook his head. ‘Not ready yet, and I want to keep an eye on her for a bit longer. Just to make sure she’s serving the HAWCs first; Mossad, and anyone else, after that. I think we both know she didn’t join us because she wanted to be a HAWC.’

Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘She says she’s my guardian angel. She’s not going to be happy to be left behind, Jack.’

Hammerson gave Alex a my-judgment-is final look. ‘Team’s picked. I’ll deal with Captain Senesh. I agree it’s not a big team, but after you find and neutralise what hit our GBs, it’ll probably end up as a babysitting mission for a week or two.’

Alex chuckled. ‘The last time you used the words babysitting and mission in the same sentence, we spent some interesting time under a certain southern ice cap being chased by something I still have nightmares about.’ The smile fell away as Alex sensed something else behind his superior officer’s rough features. ‘What is it, Jack? You didn’t have me pulled in from some downtime for a simple search and secure. What’s the urgency? Wait a minute — you said firstly. What’re the other reasons?’

Hammerson looked at Alex for a few moments, weighing what he should tell the young man and what he should hold back. He said slowly, ‘Only one other reason, son.’

He pushed the Green Shield personnel folder across the desk for Alex to read, and saw his eyes stop where he’d expected.

Alex slid the folder back and stood up, his face like stone. ‘Yes, I see. I need to go now.’

‘Sit down. She’s okay. I spoke to Alfred Beadman at GBR — you remember him? He tells me her job down there will be wrapped up in the next few weeks, and she’s not in any danger. But I reckoned with her involved, you’d like to oversee this one personally. You leave in twenty-four hours.’

‘Sir, I can be there in twenty-four hours.’

Alex began to pace the office and Hammerson could tell what was happening. He was feeling frustration, which would soon build to anger, and then … Hammerson knew he needed to bring him down, quickly.

‘Sit down, soldier, that’s an order. Beadman’s talking to her daily, and I’ve recalibrated a VELA satellite so we can have a little look-see. You need to be—’

‘No! We need to go in right now. She’s in trouble — I can feel it.’ One of Alex’s hands had curled into a fist.

‘Arcadian!’

At the shout of his codename, Alex stopped pacing, shook his head slightly and rubbed one of his temples. Another headache, I bet, thought Hammerson. He watched the HAWC for a few more moments, assessing him. He was on edge … volatile.

‘When was your last visit to Medical Division?’ he asked.

‘Ah … three weeks ago. I’m due back again at the end of the month.’

Hammerson nodded. He had already known the answer before he’d asked the question. ‘Anything interesting? What did Captain Graham have to say?’

Alex fell back into his chair and exhaled. ‘Same as usual — the migraines should ease off eventually — nothing to worry about. Gave me some stronger codeine; some sedatives for the nights if I feel I need them.’ He held his hands up in a brief gesture of resignation or weariness. ‘He gave me some shots, took more blood, looked pleased with the latest scans of my brain — didn’t say why. I asked again about the unusual physical manifestations, the accelerating extra-sensory symptoms. He reckoned they might slow down, stop or even reverse at any time. Said I should be patient.’

Alex looked directly into Hammerson’s eyes and gave him a lopsided grin. He shook his head very slightly as he said, ‘They’re not slowing down, Jack. What happens if they never stop? What will I become?’

Hammerson sat in silence. He knew there was more the younger man wanted to say.

Alex rubbed one hand across his forehead, then back up through his hair. ‘Fact is, I can take the pills, spend my nights in a drugged stupor, visit Medical once a month for the treatments, and every week something still changes inside me. I’m not sure I even remember what it’s like to be normal anymore.’

Hammerson knew that Alex had been questioning his treatments for some time now. Many times he had asked for leave to get a second opinion — and every time he had been denied. Whatever was happening to Alex Hunter could never be discussed with anyone else, anytime, anywhere. That sort of information could cause someone to … disappear.

Hammerson also knew that Alex’s relationship with Aimee had ended because of his physical and psychological changes; and the sight of her name on that list had obviously made the raw memories come flooding back. Normally the Hammer wouldn’t give a damn for any of his soldiers’ relationships — they rarely lasted anyway; after all, who wanted to date someone who couldn’t tell them what they did, where they went, and sometimes came home all busted up … or not at all? Aimee Weir had been different. She knew about Alex, and had seen firsthand what he was capable of. Hammerson doubted she’d ever stopped loving Alex, but she couldn’t bear knowing that eventually he was likely to hurt someone outside of the job, maybe even kill them. She had blamed Hammerson, as Alex’s commander, and had called Alex ‘Hammerson’s Frankenstein monster’. If only she knew how close that description comes to being fact, he thought now.

‘I think I really should get a second opinion,’ Alex was saying. ‘Even another military doc would do. Look, Jack, what happens if we stop the treatments … just for, say, three months? If something started to go wrong, anything, I’d tell you immediately. I give you my word.’

Alex held out one open hand, as though offering something to Hammerson.

Hammerson knew Alex was prepared to take a risk on ending up back in a coma, but he wasn’t. All that would achieve would be to shorten his time to the dissection table — and Hammerson was miles away from allowing that to ever happen. He wasn’t so worried about what Alex would eventually become, or longer-term effects. His concern was that he knew the Medical Division had other, more finite plans for his soldier.

‘A second opinion? Not necessary, son. I know Bob Graham — he’s the best there is. I trust him, and so should you. He saved your life, Alex. I’ve seen the medical data; without the treatments, you know damn well you could lapse back into a coma, or die.’ He sat forward. ‘Is that what you want?’

‘No …’

‘Do you think that’s what Aimee would want?’

‘No.’

Hammerson hated himself for his manipulation of Alex. Fact was, he already knew what Aimee wanted: a second medical opinion for Alex — one not influenced by the military. But he had played this game with Alex before; and he would continue to play it for as long as was necessary.

‘Believe me when I say this, Alex: I understand the changes could slow and uniformity may be regained. You could be back to normal, be—’

‘NO!’

Alex leapt to his feet, his fist raised. He brought it down like a sledgehammer on the edge of Hammerson’s heavy oak desk, shearing off a large chunk.

Hammerson sat immobile, looking at the damage to the thick wood, then back up to his soldier. Alex slowly raised his hand, showing the smashed knuckles and broken metacarpal bones. As Hammerson watched, the skin moved as the bones slid beneath the flesh. The knuckles popped back into place, and Alex flexed his fingers — good as new.

‘Back to normal, Jack? Is that really what you believe?’Alex looked into Hammerson’s eyes and held them.

The colonel knew Alex was trying to read him. He cleared his mind, kept his face impassive, didn’t breathe or even swallow. He just waited.

Alex’s brow furrowed and he dropped his gaze. He sank back down into his chair. ‘Sorry, it’s not your fault. I guess I’m just … not … thinking clearly …’ He trailed off.

Hammerson exhaled and felt a bead of perspiration run down beside his ear. ‘It’s okay, Alex; you’ll be fine. You’re getting the best medical assistance in the world. Just go with it for now. The aggression is being monitored, and your physical capabilities have meant you’ve been able to save a hell of a lot of lives. Think of it as a gift, not a curse.’

Alex nodded slowly. ‘A gift.’ He kept his eyes on the floor.

Hammerson watched him for a second longer. ‘Hunter: focus.’ Alex nodded his acknowledgment and Hammerson went on. ‘You and the team need to be terrain ready. We’ve got some new kit for you. Go and check on the team, then report back at …’ He looked at his watch; it was just after midday. ‘Fifteen hundred.’ He handed Alex the folder and the computer disc. ‘See if there’s anything else you can learn. Dismissed.’

‘Fifteen hundred, confirmed.’

Alex saluted and went out the door. He still hadn’t looked his commanding officer in the eye. Hammerson wondered what Alex was thinking. After a few seconds, he lifted the phone and pressed one of the speed-dial numbers. He was immediately connected to USSTRATCOM’s Research and Development division.

‘I’ll be sending four down for some light suits, and I’ll also want an ice gun prepped.’ Hammerson listened for a few seconds, his teeth grinding as he looked at the damage to his desk. ‘Son, I’m not in a negotiating mood right now. Just have a portable unit ready for demonstration. Out.’

He hung up without a goodbye, and sat with his hand on the phone for another second. He lifted the receiver again and spoke softly. ‘Have First Lieutenant Samuel Reid come to my office.’

He sat staring ahead for a few moments before leaning back in his chair and groaning. ‘Hunter’s not going to thank me for this.’