Final Scream (24 page)

Gabriella’s heart leaped into her throat as she and the flying creature freefell into the volcano’s black depths. She was close to being sick before her orange captor veered sharply right along a horizontal lava tube and glided along a narrow tunnel surprisingly illuminated by primitive flaming sconces. It wasn’t long before they made another right turn and landed inside a murky room.

The monster flapped its wings hard and made a vertical landing like a Harrier jet. A small wall sconce mysteriously ignited and cast a dim glow around the pair. Gabriella stared at the flyer’s lizard-dog face and its barbaric expression, but she was unfazed by its daunting presence. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

Someone groaned in the darkness beyond the reach of the wall sconce. Then another groan. Followed by a third. Two of the whining grunts were familiar and belonged to Neo and Crow. The other one was female and definitely not a voice she recognized.

The creature jerked its head in the direction of the sounds. Gabriella frowned.
Did it want her to join the others?

The word
yes
resonated throughout her head.

It
was
intelligent and using mental telepathy to communicate with her.

“Who are you?” she shot back with her mind.

“A Lothran. We control this small area of your planet.”

Gabriella wasn’t buying the claim. A subtle variation in its mental tone sounded suspicious. A lie. “I don’t believe you. Who actually rules this realm?”

The Lothran became agitated and advanced menacingly at Gabriella.

“Back off before I make you sorry you ever flew me down here,” she threatened the winged brute.

“You can do nothing,” it countered.

Gabriella waved her hands in front of the Lothran’s hideous face, and it suddenly found itself imprisoned in a cramped steel cage. It repeatedly slammed its muscular shoulders into the bars, but the reinforced metal refused to yield. Finally, the Lothran admitted defeat and pleaded to be released.

She propped her hands on her slender hips. “Do you promise not to harm me or the other prisoners?”

The beast chuffed and snorted for several moments before acquiescing.

“Is that you, Gabriella?” Neo queried weakly.

She replied using mental telepathy before realizing her error. “Yes, it’s me,” she stated aloud.

Another brisk hand wave magically produced a dozen flaming wall sconces that illuminated the entire end of the cavern. Her complexion reddened with anger.

Neo, Crow, and a tall and athletic young sunburned man were bound to a lava rock wall with iridescent metal manacles. A gaunt auburn-haired young woman and a tall, salt-and-pepper haired groggy older woman were fettered across from the men. All of them were seated on rough stone benches that served as their crude bed as well. A large stone vessel sat beside each short bench, and Gabriella instantly recognized their function: human waste storage.

“Don’t forget about
me
,” the Lothran gruffly reminded her.

With a slashing wave, Gabriella made the cage vanish.

The liberated monster moved away. “You cannot free your friends as easily.”

Gabriella smirked and tried to conjure the restraints away, but the heavy metal shackles stubbornly remained locked in place. After several futile attempts, she scowled at the Lothran. “All right, I give up. How do I remove the manacles?”

“You cannot do it, and neither can I. It takes a Shabacco,” it confessed.

“So you
did
lie. The Shabaccoes are really in charge around here, aren’t they?”

As the Lothran retreated closer to the cavern entrance, its mouth stretched into a horrible grin. “That’s not entirely true.”

“I’ll bet! Now where can I find a Shabacco to free my friends?”

It shook its orange head. “Not necessary. They will find
you
soon enough.”

Gabriella studied him for a few moments. “They’re headed this way right now, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Are they armed?”

“No need.” He tapped his bony skull. “They are very powerful up here. And they are bringing the Slayer with them.”

“Is the Slayer supposed to frighten me? It doesn’t.”

“Your Earthly military and scientific people renamed the Slayer E.V.A.N., and the monster is unstoppable. Only the Shabaccoes can control it. Let me tell you this. We Lothrans and most of the other life forms inhabiting these islands were relieved when the Slayer died twenty-three of your Earth years ago, but then you imprudent humans went and cloned it. Now you will all suffer horrible deaths for that lapse in judgment. You see, Slayers reproduce asexually and can breed many times a year.”

Gabriella rolled her eyes.
Oh great!

“It won’t take the Slayers long to reproduce in numbers large enough to vastly reduce the human and alien population in the South Pacific, as you call this region of your planet.”

After that ominous remark, the Lothran fled the volcanic room, abandoning Gabriella and the confined humans to a fate worse than death.

The Shabaccoes and their Slayer.

The crazed caller was none other than Rance Osborne.

“Nick, listen to me, goddammit!” the FBI director shouted from his office inside the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington, D.C. “I discovered the identity of the traitor inside the Pentagon, but he’s missing today. No one seems to know where he is. After that, I didn’t waste any time locking up the man’s three accomplices in one of our holding cells, where we can keep a close eye on them.”

“The three in holding cells ratted out their leader?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

Nick knitted his brow. “That doesn’t ring true. I mean, why would they confess to anything at this point?” The more he thought about it, Rance’s excited tone didn’t sound right, either. He was an ass-chewer, not a panicky pansy, as he often put it.

“Because we monitored their supposedly encrypted phones for five weeks and gathered enough evidence to send them away for life. So they were anxious to make a deal.”

Rance’s argument didn’t win him over a hundred percent convinced, but experience taught Nick it was fruitless to bicker with the iron-headed FBI director.

“So who’s the hotshot Pentagon conspirator?” Nick asked.

“Army Four-Star General Rex Jamison. He was a real badass during the Mideast conflicts a decade ago, but now he’s up to his neck in debt. So it was a simple matter for the people behind the
Final Scream
operation to wave big bucks in front of his face and convince him to cooperate.”

“How much debt?”

“Three million dollars.”

“Jesus!”

“Amen.”

“Are you sure you’ve identified all the Pentagon accomplices?”

“Besides the NSA’s Jonathon Foster?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell no, I’m not!” Rance bristled. “My investigation is still a work in progress.” He paused until he reined in his temper. “I saw a piece about the Terror Island volcano on the news. I’m sorry about your cousin.”

On the news?
Rance detested television news telecasts. He claimed they were more propaganda and advertising than enlightening. “Thanks.” Nick wasn’t about to reveal Noah’s current whereabouts to an imposter. The enemy.

“Do you want to come in and question these three dolts?”

“Sorry, but I’ve got other plans.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he replied curtly.

“Dammit, Nick, you’re nothing but an ingrate! I’ve gone to the trouble of…”

Ingrate? Since when did Rance use that descriptive word?
Nick terminated the call and Googled a picture General Rex Jamison on his cell phone so he would at least know what the enemy’s scapegoat looked like if they met. Jamison was well groomed but looked like he was full of himself. He had close-cropped black hair with gray streaks, a deeply lined brow, and bushy eyebrows. His high cheekbones, hooked nose, skewed umber eyes, and Dumbo ears were like disparate puzzle pieces. If he wasn’t a scapegoat, the general’s unattractive mug would fit right in with the criminal wanted posters pinned to a post office bulletin board.

However, the more Nick examined Jamison’s eyes, the more he
didn’t
resemble a stooge. If anything, they belonged to a sinister man whose love of violence stared out at Nick from their lifeless depths. He looked more like the ringleader type. Nick deleted the photo from the screen. Of course, that was impossible. The
Superior
ran things.

Nick turned off his cell phone and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. Just as he was about to teleport to Riai Island, someone materialized beside him. Nick stepped back and drew his 9mm gun.

He grinned and holstered the weapon as soon as he recognized the visitor’s identity.

Neo Doss.

Nick eyeballed his partner. “What the hell…?

Neo raised his large hands in surrender; he appeared totally embarrassed. “Don’t be pissed off at me, Nick. Gabriella sent me here to partner-up with you. This was totally
her
idea. I figured I’d better play along or be on her shit list forever.”

Nick puckered his brow. Changing their plan in midstream wasn’t like the Gabriella he knew and loved.
The group often went their separate ways during an investigation, so why would she balk this time around?
Furthermore, he was surprised his old buddy would willingly undermine his authority. The time to challenge his strategy was over as soon as they stepped foot into the
Lamplighter
restaurant.

First an uncharacteristic conversation with Rance, and now Neo’s odd behavior. The entire situation stunk to high heaven.

“All right,” Nick said casually in an attempt to hide his suspicion of Neo’s identity. Nick grabbed the big man’s hand. “Let’s hit the road. We’re already late to the party.”

Before they left the island, Nick’s hand and arm grew intensely hot. The flesh reddened, blistered, and split like charbroiled sausage. Nick tried to wrench his hand away, but Neo held firm.

“What in God’s name is going on?” he managed through the excruciating pain.

Neo threw back his head and snort-laughed cruelly. “It’s called
death
, Bellamy, and yours is long overdue.”

Gabriella gnawed her lip. The enigmatic Shabaccoes were on their way to the cavern, and it was difficult to prepare for the aliens when she didn’t really know much about their treacherous mental powers. The cowardly Lothran left her in the dark, so she figured to rely on her own magical skills to protect the prisoners until she convinced the Shabaccoes to release them. Their pet Slayer, E.V.A.N., was another savage monster like the ones in their last case,
The Burial Ground
. She would play that one by ear.

She glanced at her wristwatch.
Where was Nick?
He should have arrived fifteen minutes ago; it wasn’t like him to be late to the party. She could really use his help.

Long shadows fell across the rocky threshold, announcing the Shabaccoes’ appearance. A half-dozen seven-feet, midnight purple aliens stepped inside. One of them controlled a horrible beast with a thick chain leash attached to its bulky headgear. Gabriella assumed the monster was the Slayer, E.V.A.N. Because of its enormous girth, the large creature barely squeezed through the cavern entrance. The Slayer evaluated Gabriella with its six red globular eyes, and she nearly laughed out at its rainbow-colored snout. What a ridiculous looking animal.

“So you must be the Shabaccoes,” Gabriella stated bravely, still speculating about Nick’s absence. He normally dealt with murderous monsters and menacing aliens, while she, Neo, and Crow merely stayed out of his way while he worked his supernatural mojo.

The Slayer’s frosty stare was unrelenting. It licked its thick black rubbery lips with an oddly mottled tongue resembling the woven patterns of Mediterranean floor rugs. The Shabaccoes sized her up, too.

One of the reptilian skulled creatures advanced on its spindly legs and reconfigured its face until its mouth had human lips. “You are not bound,” it stated clearly without a trace of an alien accent.

“Boy, aren’t you the observant one,” she lampooned him. “You must be super intelligent to be able to figure that one out.”

Her biting sarcasm escaped his English language comprehension. “Why are you not bound?”

“Because I refused to cooperate with the Lothran that flew me here. Let’s say I allowed
him
to escape rather than visa-versa and leave it like that.”

The tall creature exchanged brief discussions with its companions in their alien language. Finally, it addressed Gabriella again.

“We came to feed our prisoners to the Slayer. It has a voracious appetite.”

Gabriella folded her arms across her chest. “Over my dead body!” the beautiful witch exclaimed.

“What does that mean?” the Shabacco asked.

“It means you and your friends better leave before I sic the Slayer on
you
!”

The repugnant Shabaccoes snorted through their lumpy nostrils, which Gabriella presumed was their gross way of laughing at her. She wasn’t in the mood for ridicule, so she waved her arms at the snickering buffoons. The shocked Shabaccoes were instantly imprisoned inside a sturdy cage with the predatory Slayer.

The big creature bellowed at being caged again, and when it tossed its tremendous weight around like an angry hippopotamus, it immediately crushed two of the aliens. The remaining four Shabaccoes cringed against the opposite bars as the Slayer wolfed down their fallen comrades. Brown blood was smeared across the Slayer’s face like barbeque sauce, but it didn’t mind.

The survivors telepathically screamed and pleaded for Gabriella to release them, but she delayed her mercy until the odds were in her favor. In other words, until there was one Shabacco left alive. Then she would deal.

The human prisoners chained to the far wall whimpered at the grisly sight, but Gabriella ignored their complaints. It didn’t take the Slayer long to reduce the number of survivors to one. She magically transported the badly scarred creature outside the cage and left the Slayer inside.

The grateful Shabacco bowed. “Thank you, great sorceress.”

But Gabriella wasn’t interested in gratitude. “Release my friends, or I’ll put you back inside the cage.”

The quivering Shabacco acted puzzled. “I cannot do that. Ask me anything else, and it shall be yours.”

Gabriella shrugged her shoulders. “Is that your final answer?”

“It … it has to be.”

“Then back inside the cage you go,” she remarked indifferently. She raised her hands but stopped when the Shabacco fell to its knees.

“I beg of you, don’t send me back in there! I will do as you ask,” the alien declared fervently.

Gabriella lowered her arms. “Then do it before I change my mind.”

The purple alien approached the captives and touched a round metallic object to the manacles. They sprang open with a loud, metallic pop. Once the Shabacco released the prisoners, it returned to Gabriella.

“I have done as you asked. Please allow me to leave like the Lothran.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Gabriella,” a woman’s voice growled from the outer tunnel. A female outline appeared amid a collection of armed soldiers dressed in army camouflage fatigues.
Soldiers?
One of them targeted the Shabacco with his assault rifle and unleashed a deafening fusillade that sliced the shrieking Shabacco in half. Both parts tumbled near her feet, splashing her Kundzean armor with its brown blood. She bent to wipe away the splatters, but the shrouded woman stopped her.

“Stand up straight, and place your hands above your head,” the woman commanded.

“And if I don’t?” Gabriella countered.

“Then I will put you inside your cage with the Shabacco Slayer.”

“
Our
Slayer!” a cloaked man added emphatically behind her.

Gabriella laughed. “Go ahead, just try it.”

The mysterious woman muttered a spell in an ancient language, and suddenly Gabriella found herself inside the cage with the snorting, slobbering Slayer. Was this woman the Superior? If so, she and the others had miserably failed their mission.

The woman laughed maliciously. “
Bon
appétit
, E.V.A.N.!” She turned to a military man and gestured at the newly released prisoners. “Order your soldiers to mow down those prisoners,” she commanded.

The man’s tone showed surprise. “Are you sure you want me to kill
all
of them?”

“You heard me.
Do it!
”

The man nodded. “As you wish. No survivors, no witnesses.”

“Precisely,” she said before facing the cage and seeing Gabriella alive. The unknown woman appeared disappointed the Slayer hadn’t eaten its cagemate yet. They both stood frozen like statues. “What’s going on in there?” the woman demanded.

Gabriella grinned at her impatience. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

The woman hesitated while the man barked instructions to six of his men in the front row. He added that after shooting the prisoners, they were to execute head shots on them to guarantee their deaths.

The soldiers advanced before abruptly stopping ten feet from the cage.

The military officer was furious. “Kill the prisoners right
this second
!”

But the six soldiers stayed motionless.

The officer advanced into the cavern light and shoved the closest of his six defiant men forward, but he fell stiffly onto the rock-strewn floor face first. Blood trickled from small cheek lacerations, two missing front teeth, and a broken nose. Still, the soldier remained stiff as a board.

The officer confronted his female comrade. “What the goddammed hell is going on here?!” he shouted gruffly.

The woman swore at him and changed her blustering companion into a squiggling earthworm that she easily ground into the rocky floor with her shoe.

She addressed the rest of the soldiers. “Do any of you know what’s happened to your comrades?”

But none of them answered—they were frozen in place, too.

The woman squealed her rage and spun toward the cage. This time, she screamed her vexation.

Both the cage and its occupants had vanished.