The Traiteur's Ring (46 page)

Don’t be an idiot. He knows you’re coming – has probably expected you all along.

Still – no sense in risking it. He would deal with the voices behind him when he had achieved his objective – if he were still alive. The persistent scraping crawl seemed closer though, and over that he now heard a rattling grunt with each pause.

Grunt – drag – grunt – drag

It was unnerving in the dark, and Ben tried to pick up the pace. Ahead of him, in the night sight of his rifle, a soft whitish glow began to appear. Ben looked around his rifle to see the source. He strained his eyes and thought he saw a soft, reddish light, but it looked too faint to be certain. Still, the glow in the sight seemed real enough so it was probably not his imagination. He continued on, scanning the murky air through the laminating scope. The whispers had stopped, but the dragging noise seemed even louder.

Grunt – drag – grunt – drag

Ben spun around and scanned the black tunnel behind him through the scope–and there he saw it.

The corpse had only half a face – the left side of the jaw bounced up and down on the right shoulder, and the ear had flopped over upside down on the side of the neck where the high velocity round from his rifle had torn through the head. Ben’s second shot had blown through the groin and nearly severed the right leg, which had spun around, the foot facing behind the rapidly advancing dead man.

The corpse leaned against the right side of the tunnel wall with his arm to compensate for having only one good leg and dragged the mangled and bloody leg behind him. The eyes glowed yellowish green through the night sight, but he knew would look more orange to the naked eye. Ben sighted the red dot of his infrared night targeting system in the middle of the mangled face, and his finger tightened on the trigger.

What the hell is the point at shooting again at a man you already shot to death?

Ben dropped the rifle and felt a now familiar tightening in his chest and a warm vibration that ran up both his arms. He had no time tear out the creature’s heart, but he thought he could probably make the corpse a much less threatening tool for the dark one inside.

The tunnel took on a soft bluish glow, and he felt and saw the dancing little fireflies all around him. Then, he let the feeling in his chest run rapidly down both arms and flung his hands out, fingers extended, and watched as two bright balls of bluish light exploded out of his hands and tore down the tunnel towards the zombie like creature, parallel fire trails dragging behind them.

The balls of light smashed into the corpse’s chest and a horrible scream escaped the brutally disfigured mouth. Ben watched an explosion of light shoot out in all directions, and then the dead man burst into flames. The corpse bounced around on its one good leg a moment, the horrible wails warbling in time to its obscene dance.  It then fell over in the tunnel consumed.  The body twitched a moment and then lay still. A second later the scream returned, and Ben watched as the spray of light erupted from the mouth, tearing the jaw the rest of the way free to careen towards him. The charred and bloody pieces of skull bone skidded to a stop at his feet, and the bright light shot down the tunnel back towards the entrance, careening impossibly off the walls as it did. The high-pitched noise followed it and faded with the light as both disappeared back the way he had come.

He stood in the now quiet, soft glow of the few wisps of blue flame that danced off the blackened remains of the corpse. Those winked out a moment later and he was left again in darkness, alone with a horrible smell and white spots in his eyes from the sudden burst of light.

He may not have destroyed that dark one, but it sure as shit wouldn’t be using that corpse to pursue him anymore.

Ben turned back towards the slight red glow deeper in the tunnel and raised his rifle again. Guided by the night sight, he continued towards his objective and whatever waited for him there.

*   *   *

They had seen the light – a soft glow of blue that to Reed seemed somehow familiar – before they heard the scream. The horrifying shriek sounded in no way human, and Reed felt his pulse pound in his temple at the thought of what it might be. He gripped his rifle tighter and scanned the direction of the blue glow but saw nothing. He was about to ask Chris what the hell he thought the sound had been, but before he could speak the tunnel ahead of them exploded like a boiling sun. The sudden burst of light in his NVGs blinded Reed. He tore them away from his eyes which knocked his helmet sideways just as the shriek grew louder and he thought his eardrums would explode. He dropped to a crouch and tried to keep his rifle up, but he could see nothing to shoot at through his burning eyes.

A glowing tube of light streaked suddenly over top of them, and he fell to his back on the floor, rifle raised, his own scream stuck in his throat. The terrible animal sound echoed off the walls as it seemed to pass with the luminescent trail and then faded away as the tunnel returned to blackness.

“Reed,” Chris hissed at him from nearby. Reed could still see nothing but the glowing light burned into his retinas which danced around in the darkness as his eyes darted back and forth. “Reed – dude, are you hurt? Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” Reed managed and struggled to a kneeling position in the dark, his right arm against the wall of the tunnel. “I’m okay, but I can’t see shit. Are you okay?”

There was a pause while his teammate assessed himself.

“I think so,” the quivering voice said. “What in the holy shit was that?”

“I don’t know,” Reed answered, but his mind went to another bluish light that had exploded near him recently. That light had come from his best friend’s hands and moments later the terrorist at their feet had been burned beyond recognition. What the fuck was going on? “I don’t know,” he said again.

Reed had convinced himself the light at the target house had been his imagination – that the terrorist had, indeed, botched a suicide bombing. But now he wasn’t nearly so sure. He blinked a few times, and the spots in his vision seemed to fade. He straightened his helmet and then with some trepidation pulled his NVGs back into place.

The tunnel, green in the NVGs, now held scattered black spots from the explosion of light that had scarred his eyes temporarily, but he thought he could see well enough to continue on.

“Can you see okay?” he asked Chris.

“I think so,” Chris answered. He heard his officer take a few slow deep breaths. “Let’s get moving,” he said, and Reed heard him struggle to his feet.

Reed continued down the tunnel, his right sleeve along the wall, as he scanned back and forth. His vision improved rapidly, and a few minutes later seemed nearly normal, though he could still feel tears which ran in little streams down his cheeks.

“What’s that?” Chris whispered.

Reed strained to see ahead of him in the tunnel. A few yards forward he saw a heap of something, and at the same moment a horrible smell filled his nostrils, gagging him. The mound slowly took on the rough shape of a man, though the head seemed to be missing and the corpse was badly charred. Again the images from the target house returned to him.

“Jesus,” Chris whispered in the dark.

The voices in his headset, which had become like background noise, now sounded more urgent.

“Viper Lead – acknowledge.”

Auger’s voice sounded tense, but the transmission also seemed slightly garbled, and his earpiece sounded full of static.

“Say again, Viper Four,” he heard Chris say.

Again the message seemed broken up, and he assumed the tunnel interfered with good reception.

“can…..explosion…..okay?”

“We’re okay,” Chris said. “No injuries.”

“……toward you…….two……tunnel……”

“Say again, Four,” Chris said, but they heard nothing but static. Chris tried again, but still no reply – at least not that they could hear. They listened together for a moment more. “Did you get any of that?” Chris asked him.

“No,” Reed said. He doubted from the tone of Auger’s voice that it had been anything good, however.

“Let’s get Ben and get the hell out of here,” Chris said.

They stepped over the charred corpse and continued down the dark tunnel. Reed thought he saw a faint glow of yellow-white in his NVGs, but it seemed subtle and he thought it might just be the residual effects of the explosion on his eyes. He kept his right elbow against the wall and moved deeper into the tunnel.

Then they both jumped at the sound of another rifle shot, followed a moment later by four more shots in rapid succession.

“Keep moving,” Chris commanded.

*   *   *

Ben moved smoothly and without pause down the tunnel towards the rapidly growing red beacon. As he neared the source at the tunnels end, the eerie reddish hue provided enough light that he no longer looked through the night scope mounted on his rifle, but he continued to hold his weapon up in the ready position.  A few yards farther, and the source became apparent – the tunnel dead-ended ahead and the left wall opened in a garage door sized opening, beside which stood a single Al Qaeda fighter armed with an AK-47.

Ben fired once – a head shot that dropped the terrorist like a bag of laundry. He had no chance to see if the eyes glowed, but he assumed a guard posted so near the powerful One with the black blood would most certainly be a dark one.  He moved swiftly over the body and fired four additional shots to each arm and both knees, shattering all four extremities.

That’ll slow the bastard down if he comes back.

Ben stepped over the heap of flesh and entered the large room.

The red, glowing light didn’t seem to illuminate the man so much as emanate from him. The terrorist leader sat at a single table-like desk on which rested a laptop computer with cables that disappeared into the wall behind him, a wide variety of radios, scattered papers, and a pistol – a large revolver which he made no move to grab as he watched Ben approach. He wore the same long and flowing robe style shirt over grey pants that most of the Al Qaeda he had encountered in Africa wore.  His feet were clad in red high top tennis shoes. The bearded face parted in a slight grin.

The eyes of course glowed back at him with a harsh red light.

It took you a long time, Rougarou.

Ben hunched into a combat firing stance, leaned in, and squeezed his trigger four times in rapid succession.

Four dark holes appeared in the man’s face, three in the forehead and one to the right of his hawk like nose.  Blood and gore spattered the glowing wall behind him. The head jerked back with each hit, but then the smile returned, even as blood trickled out of each hole. The one near the nose began to blow little bubbles. For a moment the man’s face seemed to shimmer, and Ben thought he saw the demon from his nightmares replace the man’s features. Then, the shimmering stopped, and the face returned to the grinning bearded terrorist, now full of holes.

The mouth opened and a growling roar escaped, filling the room with heat and a sulfur-like smell. Then, Ben saw the hands rise from the desk. Fireflies flickered from the fingers to the forearms and then two red fire balls exploded from the hands, crashing into Ben’s chest. He felt himself driven backward until he slammed into the wall, crumpling to the floor. The heat felt like he was burning to death from the inside and  he tasted blood in his throat. Ben shook his head to clear the stars and looked up in time to see the terrorist rise calmly from his seat, moving around the desk to face him. His body seemed relaxed, and his hands pulsed with red light. The fireflies now flickered around his arms all the way to the shoulders.

Ben concentrated with all of his might and felt a new and familiar aura replace the pain in his chest, and his own hands began to tingle. He squeezed the feeling out of his chest, down both of his arms and two balls of blue light exploded from his fingers. The terrorist/demon raised his arms, and the fireballs glanced off of them, bouncing around the room a moment before they fizzled out harmlessly.

The man opened his mouth and laughed. Dark blood escaped his throat and poured into his thick beard. Again, he seemed to shimmer and for a moment the figure was replaced by a horrible monstrosity, with a long face full of razor-sharp teeth, the bald scarlet head covered in knots that looked like horns and arms extending in impossibly long fingers – more like claws than hands. The shimmering stopped, and the creature turned, its leathery skin covered in black sticky liquid, soaking into its clothing. The hands started to pulse again, and Ben tensed for the next, probably lethal, shot.

You are unprepared, Rougarou. You don’t know how to tap the power you need and you have failed.

Ben tried to raise his arms, in protest if not in defense, but the two fire balls smashed into him before he was able. He felt himself engulfed in heat, the energy from the powerful One lifting him from the floor as he smashed painfully into the rock wall several feet above the ground. Ben felt and heard the snap of several ribs as he crumpled to the floor.

The bloody faced terrorist laughed uncontrollably. Ben saw its facial image flicker between that of the wounded man and the oppressive demon. Its long teeth and lizard like face contorting between its false bravado and the reality of what the beast really was.

“I’ve failed,” Ben mumbled and felt hot tears on his cheeks. How could he possibly have believed he had enough power to defeat such a creature?

It resides within you, Ben. It is in your soul and not the Ring. The power comes from who you are, from all around you. From your teammates, from your family here in the jungle, from the heart of Jewel and the spirit of both Christy and your son inside her.

GET UP.

He thought the second voice was his, but couldn’t be sure. Ben squeezed his eyes shut and felt something manifest inside. With a burst of power he didn’t really think he had, he exploded onto his feet.

The sound of shouts from the tunnel was followed by gunfire which echoed off the walls of room. Ben recognized the sounds of AK-47s and the return of M-4 fire.