Hybrid (24 page)

Richard sat up suddenly. “Do you know what happened?”

“Yes,” Conrad responded. “Two thugs accosted her, trying to force her to sell some questionable merchandise. She refused and things were beginning to get interesting. Mr. Knight was there with a bouquet of expensive roses, our source claims. Knight eliminated the two men in a rather impressive display of physical unfriendliness. One of the men is still in the hospital with a shattered tibia and femur bone, as well as a broken nose.”

Richard nodded as Conrad concluded his quick report. “Interesting. Mr. Knight has a steady girlfriend; that alone is a weakness we can exploit if needed. If we can't keep Mr. Knight out of my plans, I can use his relationship with Ms. Kerwick as leverage.”

Conrad was confused. “I thought we just agreed that Mr. Knight was out of the picture?”

“He is,” Richard replied. “I'm thinking of a more personal conflict I have with Mr. Knight. He and I share some things in common and I wish to put an end to that common tie,” he said with a malicious grin. “But,” he added, “one problem at a time, Mr. Conrad, one problem at a time.” Richard looked over at his associate. Conrad was busy reviewing another stack of reports. “Something catch your interest?”

Conrad looked up from the bound document. “Yes, a theory from one of our younger scientists. I didn't have the time to read it earlier. His peers haven't clouded his thinking. He has a different theory about the prison we've unearthed. Based on his interpretation of the data and the correlated readings he presents here, he suggests that what we originally interpreted as a vast prison is actually a massive spacecraft. He claims that the sonar echoes give the tomb an almost perfect circular shape with a flattened end. Which he proposes houses the ship's propulsion systems. It's an interesting theory, based on what little data we've actually been able to interpret. Our readings on the metallic shell are dubious at best, but there are definite traces of non-Terran elements. Shit, we can't translate 90 per cent of the writing we've recorded. It has no relation to any phonetic language in our known history.” Conrad paused as he took a long drag from a cigarette. “Could it be alien? Yes. Could it be a tomb? Yes. It could also be both, or neither. We just don't have enough information, and based on the events of the past few days, we're in no position to gather any more.”

Richard began to speculate. If it were in fact a ship, the technological wonders that would be found inside its mineral-rich hull could advance science by hundreds of years. “If only we could find some way to eliminate those things, or divert them long enough to get a recon team in there,” he speculated aloud.

“A difficult task,” Conrad replied. “We're in a conservation area to begin with, which will soon have police and soldiers wandering through it. We have two unknown creatures that have little to no regard for human life. We can only assume that, once these creatures exterminate tomorrow's band of merry men, the area will be sealed off and quarantined.” His eyes lit up, as if something clicked inside of his mind. “We will eventually have to go back up there. Despite our bravado during our meeting, there is, for all practical purposes, enough concrete evidence up there to implicate us. No matter how much we deny or delay, if law enforcement officials make it to the site, we will be implicated.

“I'm sure those morons have dozens of papers and folders with enough written documentation to build a credible case against us. Those scientific types love to keep written journals; we're undoubtedly mentioned on some piece of paper somewhere. When they fail tomorrow, a larger team of heavily armed men will most likely descend upon the area. They will most likely have armor-piercing explosive weapons with the ability to destroy those creatures. Even if we deny and delay, the amount of negative press the liberal Boston Globe would give us will cause a certain amount of discomfort with our majority shareholders,” Conrad remarked. “And, if any damaging documentation is unearthed, we'll have a difficult time trying to spin or deflect the blame of the corporation.”

Richard nodded his head. “We need to keep our ears open. I want to know, by the minute, what happens tomorrow. If they do all get slaughtered, we need to prepare.” A thought suddenly struck him, as if by divine inspiration. “I've got it.” He slammed his fist down on the conference table. “We'll have to time it perfectly, assuming another wave goes in.” Richard described his plan in great detail to Conrad. As Conrad heard the details, his shark-like grin grew and grew.

“I like it,” Conrad complimented. “We may just be able to pull this off. Timing will be crucial, but it can be done. It all depends upon them failing tomorrow though, and I assure you they will.”

“Make the arrangements,” Richard instructed.

* * * *

Hopedale Mountain

Sunday night, 9:45 p.m.

The creature had tried feeding on the young girl again, but could get nothing more from her. It held her in its black claw, waiting for the traces of fear and panic, but they never came. It sensed her life signs, heard her shallow breathing, but instinctively it knew she was no longer aware. It placed her back down in the corner where she had crawled earlier. It checked the bowl of murky water and observed that some of the fetid liquid had been consumed. It knew that these ape-like things needed water and certain organic nutrients to live, as it needed strong emotions to live. It looked over at its large companion and communicated telepathically with its larger ally. The large felenoid creature growled. One could almost interpret the frustration and hunger in its primeval roar.

They would need to hunt again. They needed more of the small ones or they would be forced back into hibernation. They would hunt tomorrow night. The black armored creature considered the human it fought earlier. He was different from the others. It sensed the presence of its ancient enemy, beings it fought eons ago. The creature also detected the same presence on the female that was with him; she too would be disposed of at the right time.

The creature remembered the great war of 10,000 years ago; how they were created by the Seelak to eliminate the Esper race during the latter part of their war. The Seelak lost the war and they were ironically trapped with their own horrible creations. It remembered a bountiful feed for almost fifty years, and then eons of hibernation and imprisonment underneath millions of tons of rock and dirt, only to be freed into a different world, a world where ape-like simians were the dominate species, a food species that they needed to prey upon in order to survive. If they could feed sufficiently, they would both return to their full strength, and then none of the strange things that spit fire could harm them. They would be untouchable and they would reign supreme on an entire planet full of food, not the food they preferred, but food enough to keep them alive and strong.

It slowly walked over to its nesting area and gently parted some of the debris used in its shelter. It gazed with some affection at the three onyx-colored stones that were its eggs. It could bring its offspring up in a world full of food, they would never know hunger or forced hibernation. The Espers were gone. The Seelak, their food source during their entombment, were gone. Now, there were only primates, and the Primate/Esper hybrid it fought earlier. The creature knew that it would have to destroy that primate.

It absently brushed over an area on its chest cavity where a bullet hole was still healing. It would take the Espers’ little one, draw it out into its territory, and then rip the thing apart one piece at a time. True to its engineered genetic programming, the two creatures hated Espers. The creatures would make this new Esper hybrid pay for that hate. It carefully climbed into its nest. The felenoid came over and curled itself around the nest, keeping it warm. The black armored creature gently stroked the large cat creature and closed its blood-red eyes. Tomorrow, they would hunt and feed. Then they would be strong and the Esper would die, and this world would belong to them.

* * * *

Madame's Restaurant

Monday Morning

Erik awoke early. He showered and changed quickly. He walked to his office and accessed his computer. The database queries that he had run from the Smithsonian Historical Archives last night had revealed no mention of any type of phenomenon remotely related to what was occurring now in Hopedale, or in the town's history. Erik had to assume that these creatures just didn't magically appear. He felt that they had always been here but were dormant; something had triggered them, but he had no idea what. Again, the answers were up on the mountainside, not down here in the small town of Hopedale.

Erik picked up the lab report and glanced over the chemical breakdown of the blue liquid: Sulfur base with trace elements of salt, copper, and other substances that were unknown. Erik realized that the lab report really didn't tell them much of anything; it only confirmed what they had already surmised. These were two very unique creatures that probably didn't originate on this planet. How they got here, and more importantly, why they were here, were questions that needed to be answered. He realized they were questions that were going to be answered by somebody else. Erik wondered how the government officials were going to hush this up. The widespread panic that could ensue if this information leaked to the general public would be disastrous.

He knew that he wouldn't be a major player in the events occurring today, but somehow that no longer bothered him. Jeff and Shanda had made him realize that he had bigger responsibilities. He stared at the gun holster containing his twin 45 autos hanging inside his closet, and then reached for the Ruger P-89. He tucked the 9mm pistol in its small holster and placed it carefully on the back of his pants, and then let the tail of his jersey cover the weapon. He knew he wouldn't need the weapon; the only danger he'd be facing in the Command and Control Van would be the possibility of getting a paper cut. Still, Erik was a creature of habit, and this particular habit had been drilled into him for many years.

* * * *

Erik had just finished his first cup of coffee when Alissa escorted Nelson and Belachek to his booth.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Erik greeted them as they sat themselves in the spacious booth.

“Good morning, Erik,” Nelson replied.

Belachek grunted as he motioned for Alissa to pour him a cup of coffee.

“Belachek is not much of a morning person, as you can tell,” Nelson remarked, covering for his associate's lack of grace.

“Who is, really?” Erik replied lightly as he drained the last bit of cranberry juice from his glass.

“Did you get a chance to read over the lab reports?” Nelson inquired.

“Yes,” Erik answered. “I studied them last night. There really isn't much there to draw conclusions upon. Sulfur-based organic compounds, unrecognizable DNA pattern, with only six pairs of chromosomes; it's almost as if these things are a genetically engineered combination from some nightmare. Without resorting to the little green men from Mars theory, I would say that what we have is a non-Terran life-form. How it got here, I have no idea. I'd also venture to guess that they've been dormant for a number of years, or else there would have been reports of such things within the history of this town. There isn't, of that much I'm sure.” Erik paused, sipping from his coffee cup. “I'm going to assume that these things have been dormant for several decades. I've run a database check into the earlier history of this town, back to Native American folklore, and nothing came up to match what we've experienced this past week. I'll keep looking though; maybe there are Indian legends or myths that may be similar. I'll also cross reference and index my search on a wider base, just in case this kind of thing is happening someplace else we don't know about.”

“How do you have access to that kind of information so quickly?” Belachek asked.

Erik grinned. “My clients in Boston have access to several data sources. They have been kind enough to give me access to those sources whether I'm in their employ or not.”

Nelson laughed as Belachek rolled his eyes upward. “Keep us up to date on whatever turns up. We'll be sending the Reynolds a bill for services rendered, and then the firm will cut you a check. You should have it by the middle of next week,” the elder detective said with a note of finality.

“Fair enough.” Erik glanced at his watch. “We've got thirty minutes before they go in. We may as well head to the vans and get set up.”

Nelson nodded in agreement and the three men departed.

* * * *

Monday morning 9:15 a.m.

The normally quiet road outside the Hopedale Park gate buzzed with activity. Three police officers and six men with automatic rifles were studying topographic maps laid out on the hood of a squad car. Erik, Nelson, and Belachek approached the men after a quick consultation inside the Halls mobile base of operations.

“Gentlemen,” one soldier began, “I'm Captain Robinson, I'll be leading today's expedition into the target area.”

The captain was a wiry man with a thin moustache. He stood just slightly under six feet, but had the typical military demeanor that made him appear to be at least six feet four inches or taller. The captain quickly made introductions to the other party members and began to outline his plan.

“We've highlighted the spots where the targets have been sighted earlier on the map here.” The officer gestured toward three red circles on the map. “We'll move through these areas using a three-meter spread. I want the local officers on point with one of my men. They're carrying the heavy firepower, so stick with them,
close
. We have the benefit of a command and control van, synch up our frequencies with them and we'll each pick up a tracking chip. They'll be able to track each man electronically in case the worst occurs.” Robinson looked up at Nelson. “Will somebody from your group be coming along?” Everyone glanced over at Erik.

“No, we'll let you gentlemen handle this one,” Nelson answered for him.

Robinson nodded. “All right, ten minutes, people. Let's get set up and loaded.”