Hunter (13 page)

Hunter stood slowly, his brow hardening beneath his ragged black mane as his blue eyes narrowed and hardened degree by degree until they were as opaque as a leopard crouching before an attack. Some instinct he had long ago come to trust told him battle was here, and there was no escape. It was instinct, or more, that he had come to know true.

Then he felt Ghost beside him, the great wide shoulders rising almost to his hips.

"Let's go, boy." Hunter ruffled the wolf's neck hair. "We've got some bad news for our friends."

***

Takakura seemed unfazed.

Holding his MP-5 in a strong hand, the Japanese stared at the slaughtered bear. His face revealed nothing but defiance and determination. He stood a long time in silence as Hunter described what had obviously happened.

"The bear came from the brush, as they generally do," Hunter continued uneasily. "It was probably surprised. Was probably just defending itself. But it was flat ground, and this creature moved faster." He motioned from a point in the brush to the body of the dead grizzly. "They started there and they never quit. And it was probably a hard fight. Neither of them backed up, and they threw a lot of blows. The bear wounded it, I think, 'cause I found its blood on the trees. But right here the thing took it to the ground, got on top, and struck it hard in the head. Crushed its skull like a grape. Then it tore out its heart."

Takakura looked up. "Tore out its heart?"

Heavy pause.

"That was for pleasure, Commander." Hunter was expressionless. "It had already killed it."

Silent, Takakura looked to the rest of the squad.

Then Tipler, moving up from the edge, muttered almost to himself, "Damned peculiar, I must say ... Yes,
very
peculiar ..."

"What is it, Professor?" Hunter asked, attempting to conceal a faint depression he felt at this latest discovery.

"These, my boy," Tipler said with keen interest as he bent over the corpse. He lifted a short stick, pointing to wounds on the front section of the grizzly's behemoth shoulders. "These," he murmured, "are holding marks, my boy. Not slashing marks. Which means ..."

Hunter stared a moment, eyes narrowing. Beneath the grizzly's armorlike fur he had not noticed the dissimilarity of the multitude of ravaging wounds torn into the shoulders. "Yeah," he muttered, his own interest fired by the acute observation. "Yeah, I know what it means."

"Well, don't feel like you have to tell the rest of us," Taylor said, stepping up. "The only thing we have to lose is our lives."

Tipler continued, becoming more excited as he confirmed his observation. "Yes, yes, not for ten thousand years has there been a beast that killed as this. Not since S
milodon." He pointed and turned to the group. "You see! It was on the bear's back"—carried away with the drama, he raised his hands as claws—"holding tightly with its great massive claws deeply embedded in the shoulders, ravaging its neck from behind! And it was then that it raised its hand in the air and brought it down to crush its skull! Remarkable! Such strength! I have never seen its equal! A Smilodon would have embedded its incisors meant for slashing and holding, to kill as it held. But this creature was forced to use a somewhat hammer-like blow"—he began to pace in his excitement—"which tells us that its fangs, or whatever semblance of canine attributes it may possess, are not formidable or sufficient for this manner of physical confrontation. However, it does possess strength not in proportion to its already established physical weight. Strange, yes." He paused, staring down. "The mystery deepens, but this creature's rage reveals it. No, it is not a tiger, not a creature with customary predatory attributes. Yet even so, it is still to be feared. Its most formidable weapons may be somewhat conventional, but they are nevertheless deadly in effect."

Taylor mumbled, "Well, then, why don't we just give it a bleeping medal?"

Takakura turned his head. "Taylor," he said reprovingly. Then, to the professor: "Which means what, exactly?"

Tipler stepped slightly back. "Which means, Commander, that this creature kills in a strangely similar fashion to S
milodon—the saber-toothed tiger—which has been absent from the planet for millennia. Yet it walks as a man, and appears to think sometimes as a man. Which leaves yet another possibility to us."

"Yes?"

"A mutation," Tipler replied flatly. "A genetic mutation of either man or beast. How or why it came about I cannot say. But it is a theory which we must now consider. Without doubt."

Hunter followed the gazes and measured the men behind him more thoroughly than he had several days ago. Because now he had seen them in action, could estimate their wilderness skills. And some, he had already calculated, were out of their element.

First, there was Taylor, who seemed to care for nothing and fear nothing. He seemed relatively comfortable in the bush, and Hunter had determined that his overt propensity to antagonize was born from the simple fact that he was innately hostile. But in the field he was a consummate soldier, dependable and performing his duties professionally and without complaint.

Then there was Buck, a Stone Age cowboy who never complained and seemed to move with an easy economy of movement that belied an ingrained wilderness wisdom. And, somehow, Hunter felt Buck could be trusted, perhaps because he was one of the few team members who retained some sense of humor about the affair. As efficient as he seemed to be, Buck was easygoing and relaxed, and seemed to hide nothing. The only team member that Hunter had not yet spoken with was a British soldier named Arthur Wilkenson.

Wilkenson, Hunter had learned from Bobbi Jo, was a former member of the British Special Air Service. And Hunter knew that the SAS were considered the toughest of the tough. Stoic and aloof, Wilkenson had made no efforts to speak with Hunter, but Hunter had studied him quietly. Tall and lean, but clearly quite muscular, Wilkenson never seemed to tire. But Hunter didn't think it was from his native constitution; it seemed more a product of stern conditioning.

The Englishman's sharply angled face held piercing green eyes that glinted with quick intelligence, and Hunter remembered Bobbi Jo mentioning that he spoke five languages and was an expert in tactical analysis.

"What's that?" Hunter had asked.

"It's an SOP," she responded.
"It's where someone is adept at analyzing defense strength and designing the appropriate tactic to countermine it." She had stared back as she thought more carefully about it. "In the army, you'd probably have to go to the National War College for something like that. At least to some kind of policy-making position training camp. I don't know how they do it in the SAS. But I know he's a high-level thinker. Maybe as high as it gets."

Slowly raising his eyes, Hunter studied the austere silhouette of Wilkenson. "Why do you think he was assigned to this?"

She hesitated, catching his vague disturbance. "The Pentagon doesn't know what to expect," she said finally, "so they might be covering every contingency." She stared over the forest. "I have to be honest with you, this weird-ass stunt isn't like anything I've ever done, Hunter. Throwing together a team for a high-risk mission like this instead of pulling in a group from Delta or the SEALs goes against good sense. We haven't seen any combat together so we don't know how the next person is going to react. I don't know why they did it like this. It almost guarantees failure."

As she spoke, Hunter heard something approach.

"Set all weapons on fully automatic fire," Takakura said sternly. "But there will be no firing unless we have a clear sight of the creature."

Another team member that Hunter had not come to know well— Riley—stepped forward. Also lean but with heavy arms and shoulders, Riley was brown-haired with brown eyes. He had a sharp angular face and high cheekbones. He spoke with a slight Irish accent. And, in addition to his M-16 rifle, he carried a climbing rope looped shoulder to waist with crampons, chocks,
carabineers and pitons on a belt at his waist.

"I would like to ask Hunter a question," he said.

Hunter looked quietly at him. Waited patiently.

"Mr. Hunter." Riley stepped forward. "I have watched you track this creature. I respect you. I admire your skills. But I wish to know what you know. They say that you can tell much about this from how it moves. That you can think as it does." He paused. "I doubt, when we come face to face with this creature, that we will have time to learn from our mistakes. To me, now seems an appropriate time for you to prepare us."

Takakura turned toward Hunter at Riley's words, indicating that he agreed. Hunter wondered how much he should reveal, and quickly ruled out the claw and what he had discovered in the laboratory at the research center. But, clearly, they deserved to know everything else he could give them. He didn't know as much as he wished, but whatever he could tell them would be more than they knew now.

"All right," he said, glad for the opportunity. "I'll tell you what I think. This thing we're after doesn't move like an animal. And I know, 'cause I've tracked 'em all. It's not following a circuit and it's not roaming. It's killing whatever it finds." He paused, thinking, and tried to be concise. "Listen, this is what I think will happen," he continued. "It will ambush us. Probably from above. A ledge, a tree, something like that. It'll try and hit and get away quick. But it probably won't chase any of us. It'll wait 'til we're close, then it'll make its move. You've got to watch your surroundings at all times. And I mean at all times. And ... I think we're dealing
with something that is faster and stronger than anything you've ever seen or imagined. If you see it coming, get off a shot fast. The rest of us will follow. If you hesitate, I guarantee you won't be around to regret it."

Frowning, Takakura bent his dark head. "How soon before we encounter this creature?"

Hunter hesitated, measuring the commitment burning in their faces before he lifted his rifle, turning away.

"Whenever it decides," he said.

* * *

Chapter
8

After reorienting from the discovery of the grizzly and deciding to establish camp at the first available defensive position, Hunter led them down the ridge by dead reckoning. He didn't have time for a map or compass, and the Magellan system only revealed where you were, not the suitability of surrounding terrain for bivouac purposes.

Bobbi Jo was to his left, as usual, and Ghost moved to his right, often lifting his head to search by sight before he lowered his nose and sniffed, suddenly disturbed. Hunter paused but saw nothing, and had no time for a detailed examination, so they kept moving through a gathering dark that would fall like a phantom's cloak on these trees, making even the moon seem distant and weak.

Since discovering the bear, Hunter had carried in his hand the ragged claw he had retrieved from the steel panel of the destroyed research facility, trying to construct everything he knew about the beast into a cohesive picture. Although broken, it was thick as a bear's—long and slightly curving with a tip that razored to a wicked, hooked point. He wondered if it was used primarily for slashing or piercing or even holding; he couldn't decide.

It was strangely tapered, almost in a wedge. He had never seen one like it because most claws were task-specific, tailored to a particular job like digging, holding, slashing, or climbing. But this claw seemed to be unnaturally all-purpose, as if it could gouge, pierce, or tear; an effective weapon or tool.

It was also finely serrated, so no matter what, it retained an effective cutting edge. It reminded him of the teeth of those prehistoric sharks, the Carcharodon Megalodon, whose teeth, recovered 10,000 years later from the ocean floor, still retained a serrated razor sharpness. He turned his mind back to making a quick and secure camp. Found Takakura moving beside him.

"You have never seen anything like this?" he asked with some credulity. "Not ever?"

"No," Hunter replied. "I've tracked everything on earth, Commander, and I've never tracked anything that moved purposefully from stone to stone. Nothing that made sudden changes of direction without reason. Nothing that didn't move on a circuit or within a territory. And, strangely, this thing doesn't seem to hunt at all. It just kills whatever it encounters by chance, eats it and moves on. It kills a lot and eats a lot, but it holds to the direction it's going like a man. It knows exactly where it's heading, that much is clear. So it has purpose." Hunter paused, turned toward Takakura: "But the only purpose a normal animal has is survival, Commander. So this thing, whatever it is, doesn't think like an animal. It has some kind of...some kind of plan or something."

Takakura appeared disturbed, but he did not dispute Hunter's words. "Can you discern anything else? We must know as much as possible. What about its fight with the grizzly? Did you learn anything of its methods?"

"I told you most everything I could read. It was short but ferocious. All I can say for sure is that it fights pure, with no hesitation. It doesn't have any mercy. But some part of it ..." Hunter shook his head. "Some part of it thinks like a man."

Takakura also shook his head, openly frustrated.

Hunter continued as they moved quickly. "Generally a bear won't fight on the ground because nothing is big enough to take it down. Even another bear. They fight on their back legs, strike with their forelegs." His face tightened. "No, I've never seen anything strong enough to take a grizzly to the ground and kill it like that."

"I see," said the Japanese. He hoisted his rifle and adjusted a leather strap holding the katana. His dark eyes narrowed at the distant ridge, still lit by the crimson light of a descending sun. "We cannot make the ridge before dark. We will estab-"

Suddenly a thunderous god-roar of shocking animal might erupted violently from the ridge to crash over them, and they raised aim as one. And for the faintest split second an enormous manlike silhouette was half visible—snarling, raging, challenging. And then it was gone, turning and disappearing beyond the rocky ridge like a vaporous apparition.

Staring up, feeling the racing of his breath, the pounding of his heart, Hunter almost couldn't believe what he had seen—something he surely saw more clearly than the others because he had almost instantly separated it from the green mossy ferns and gloom.

He heard himself whispering, "God Almighty ..."

Vicious expletives were hurled up and down the rank, Taylor overpowering them all with, "What the hell was that! What the hell was
that
?"

Hunter lowered his rifle long before the others, knowing it wouldn't reveal itself again.

No, that hadn't been for conflict. That had been to officially announce the battle and the war about to come. And, probably most of all, to satisfy some kind of pure bestial pleasure, some latent need to display its superiority.

Hunter was certain: tonight.

And if it attacked them here in the open ground when they were without a defensible perimeter, they would be slaughtered as quickly as the grizzly.

"Move quickly!" Takakura hissed. "We must make camp. Quickly! Quickly!"

Hunter was already moving, searching for clearing with easy access to the stream. They had covered a little more than three hundred yards when he found it, a fairly level section ringed on three sides by a wall of forest. Hunter didn't like the size of the perimeter and searched for a better place to camp, but they were out of time. This would have to suffice.

"This is the best we're gonna get for the night," he said, casting a glance at the low full moon, hazy and hauntingly large on the horizon. "In thirty minutes it'll be pitch dark."

"Fuck that!" Buck said, throwing a pile of wood he'd already grabbed down in the center of the clearing. "This place is gonna look like daylight!"

In two minutes he had a blazing fire going and was still feeding more wood. And he returned to the woods with his rifle close, quickly gathering more scattered branches to hurl a mound into a bonfire that would easily illuminate the small clearing through the night.

Takakura was hurling terse instructions for incendiaries, motion detectors, listening devices, occipital laser locaters and random intruder scanning devices to be set for the perimeter.

Working quickly, they had everything in place within twenty minutes.

Hunter, not involved in the military procedures, examined Tipler as they settled, concerned that the old man was breathing heavily and holding his left arm at the wrist. And Bobbi Jo stood watch in the center of the glade. She scanned left, right and back again like a machine, cold and focused.

Hunter knew that if the creature pierced the gloomy veil imprisoning them, especially while she still had light, she would hit it dead center before it made ten feet.

"You all right, Doc?" he whispered.

Breathing heavily,
Tipler patted his hand. "I am fine, my boy. You'd best make your preparations as quickly as possible. You have little time. Hurry. You will need food in the morning."

"Forget the food. No time for it tonight."

Takakura spoke sternly to the team. "Buck! You take first watch with Wilkenson! We don't know what we are up against but we can be certain that it knows our location! From now, there will be a double guard on all shifts. The rest will sleep close to the fire with weapons ready at all times!"

Takakura expended the clip to the MP-5, tapped it, reset it quickly, and opened the bolt. His face was fierce as he turned to the surrounding forest. "A fortress of guards and security devices could not stop it from attacking the research facilities! Likely, this defense shall not stop it either! Our best strategy will be a concentrated wall of ordnance that might dissuade it from a full frontal attack."

Wilkenson spoke. "We actually have an advantage in the clearing that they did not possess at the compounds, Commander. For one, we can observe its approach. And, for the first attack, at least, we can target it easily. But that is an advantage that will exhaust itself after we hit it once or twice. More than likely, if it is effective, it will adopt a different strategy to avoid direct contact." The Englishman gazed about, seeming to measure distances. "I would project that we will defeat it earlier in the battle, but as the night progresses, I believe it will find a means of penetrating the perimeter."

Hunter felt a touch at his thigh and knew the silent familiar presence. Without looking he reached down and ruffled Ghost's mane, but the wolf didn't move. As usual, it had been scouting ahead and doubling back to ensure that Hunter was safe. But now they were making camp and Hunter knew Ghost wouldn't leave his side until morning.

No matter what.

"Rebecca?"

Gina s voice contained an edge of suppressed excitement and Rebecca Tanus turned. She saw the younger woman staring up at the electron microscope display screen. The power was set at three-quarter magnification for cytosine and thymine molecules. The pulsating blue light of the screen flicked as she adjusted half a dozen dials.

Holding a clipboard heavily laden with notes, Rebecca walked forward. "What is it, Gina?"

"This." Gina leaned back. "I think there's some sort of residue on the cast. Something indigenous."

Rebecca put down the clipboard and stared. It took her only a moment to see the microscopic tendril set against a blue-gray electric background. "What is it?" she asked quietly.

"I think it's hemoglobin," Gina said. "I've got
heme
tone and what appear to be iron atoms and some protein."

"Protein?"

"Looks like it."

"Well, what makes you think that it's not a blood particle from one of the victims?"

"Because of this." Gina adjusted the screen again, and an amazing blaze of electrons and virtual protons could be seen flickering in and out of focus as she gently turned the dials. Rebecca was reminded that mastering an electron microscope was as much an art as a science. After a moment a cluster of atoms was isolated. Then Gina increased magnification and after another fifteen minutes Rebecca saw the beginning of a DNA chart. She stared at it.

"It looks human, Gina."

"'Looks' is the pivotal word," Gina replied, adjusting the scope again. "Watch what happens when I use electrophoresis. I'm going to magnetize the segment and see if it curls away from the positive or negative electrons like human DNA would."

After a moment, the distinction was obvious.

"Nothing is happening," said Rebecca.

"Exactly. Nothing is happening. But it should be."

They stared at the DNA strand, which seemed remarkably resilient to the magnetic provocation. Gina delicately added a slight amount of phosphorescent dye to the sample. In technical terms it was called fluorescent in-situ hybridization, or "FISHing" for short. It was a process in which geneticists locate particular genes in much the same way as a computer could search and locate for a particular word in a text.

"I tried to find out why the segment was so resistant to electrophoresis," Gina added. "And I found a hybrid segment of restrictive enzymes that accelerate cloning. Actually, they don't just accelerate. They clone so quickly that an invasion, like a virus or bacteria, is almost instantly absorbed and destroyed. The only thing this DNA lacks is the ability to reproduce enough of itself to construct a consistent molecular polymerase chain."

Rebecca was bending toward the screen. "And what, exactly, does that mean, Gina?"

"It means that, it this strand were complete, which it isn't, it would be able to clone, or, rather, duplicate, polymerase genes indefinitely. Which means, in effect, that it would have almost unlimited cellular reproductive capabilities."

Rebecca was silent for a moment. "Okay, let's suppose you're right on this. But let's check the preliminaries. Have you used sanitation procedures to make sure the cast wasn't contaminated?"

"Since it arrived, yes."

"And do you think you can print this out?"

"Yeah. But some of the sample will be destroyed. It's going to be impossible to pull it through without damage."

"I know," Rebecca said slowly. "But we'll still have enough for a printout. That's all we've got and that's all we should need. When you get this into the spectrograph and give me a reading, I'll run it down to Langley."

Gina turned. "Langley? Why Langley?"

"Because those are the guys behind all of this," Rebecca said. "I've got a contact there, somebody that Doc put me in touch with before he left. He's supposed to help us out."

Absorbing it, Gina turned back to the microscope. "Okay," she said in a low voice. "I'll have it ready for you in about an hour."

"Good enough," Rebecca whispered. A disturbed frown creased her face as she gazed at the screen. "So, this is our mystery man." Her eyes narrowed. "What is it that scares me about this guy?"

Glancing across the small glade, Hunter saw Bobbi Jo tightly holding the Barrett sniper rifle. It was an awesome weapon, and the full metal jacket cartridges were each six inches long.

Hunter couldn't imagine her taking the recoil of the savage detonation required to hurl a three-hundred-grain bullet as far as two thousand yards. But now that he knew what it was, he remembered that he had heard accurate hits at that range, and even farther ones were not outside the ability of the weapon.