Prime (19 page)

TWENTY-EIGHT

Can this night get any worse
? Zelda Baker thought to herself as King,
Tremblay and Somers climbed into the van. King shouted for her to drive, a bit
louder than necessary, she thought, but she chalked it up to adrenaline. Things
clearly had not gone well inside Building Two, and it did not escape her notice
that they were short one man. She didn’t ask. If Silent Bob wasn’t with King,
it meant he wasn’t coming back.
Period.
Full stop.
End of story.

Zelda stomped the accelerator and cranked the
steering wheel around. The van’s tires threw gravel as it carved out a wide
U-turn and headed back toward the gates—or more precisely, the gateposts, since
she’d flattened the actual moving parts of the perimeter defense a few moments
earlier.

She spied movement in the rearview mirror.
The things Somers had taken to calling ‘frankensteins’ were regrouping and
giving chase, but even at a full run, they couldn’t hope to keep up with the
van. By the time the vehicle crested the hilltop, the frankensteins had
vanished into the night.

She was just about to allow herself to
breathe a little easier when the radio came alive. “King, this is Roadrunner.”

‘Roadrunner’ was the callsign for Bellows,
the man that had been left back at the gate. If he was calling in, it couldn’t
be good news.

King didn’t reply, and after another half a
minute, the voice repeated, but again the only answer was silence. Zelda
glanced sidelong at the man in the passenger’s seat. “You gonna take that
call?”

He was staring straight ahead, but after a
moment seemed to realize that she was addressing him. He turned and shook his
head. “I can’t hear you!”

His shout was loud enough to make her wince,
and she could tell from his excessive volume that he wasn’t kidding. She craned
her head around and saw Tremblay and Somers both scanning the darkness,
oblivious to the radio message or anything that had been said.

She keyed her transmitter. “Roadrunner, this
is Legend. Send your traffic for King.”

“Legend, be advised that two five-ton trucks
just rolled past me, headed your way. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re
military.”

Before Zelda could respond, the distorted
voice of the mysterious Deep Blue broke in. “That’s affirmative. I’m now
monitoring their army radio net. Rainer must have tipped them off. They’ve
dispatched a company of infantry soldiers to investigate.”

Christ.
It never rains
… In her
mind’s eye, she saw the trucks with their big wheels rolling effortlessly over
obstacles that had slowed the van to a near crawl. There were no other roads,
no places to turn off and let them pass. If they stayed on the road, they would
run headlong into the army trucks. She’d dealt with the Burmese military a few
times in the course of her posting here, and she knew that if they were caught,
the best they could hope for would be a swift death. The alternative was an
indefinite stay in Myanmar’s infamous Insein prison—the name said it all—where
they would be subjected to brutal tortures, or worse, turned into propaganda
puppets.

She turned to King. “More trouble! The
Burmese army is headed our way!”

He shook his head and spread his hands
helplessly.

Wonderful.
For a moment, she wondered how she was going to make him understand the
situation; should she try writing it down for him? Did she even have paper to
write on?

“Oh, screw this.” She stomped on the brake
and threw the van into a three-point turn.

She heard the immediate protests from the others,
but since there was no way to explain
herself
to them,
she ignored their shouts. There were more important things to do.

“Nighteyes, this is Legend, do you read me?”

Shin’s voice came back, sounding both
concerned and relieved.
“Loud and clear, Legend.
Are
you turning back?”

“You know it. There’s no way out of here
except on foot. If we ditch the van in the compound, the army might not even
know we were here.”

A new voice cut in. “Negative, Legend. The
place is crawling with hostiles.” It was Irish—the guy leading the sniper teams
and King’s acting First Sergeant.

Zelda felt the hairs on the back of her neck
bristling. Was he actually trying to give her orders? She swallowed down her
rising anger and with all the coolness she could muster, replied: “I guess it’s
a good thing you guys are looking out for us, because unless someone can find
me an exit, we’re doing this my way.”

To her surprise, Deep Blue cut in. “Irish,
Nighteyes… The road is closed. You need to provide cover for the rest of the
team. Rendezvous in the woods and proceed to the second vehicle as Legend
recommends.”

The vindication was cold comfort. The truth
of it was that they were now caught between a rock and a hard place. Somers had
successfully
beat
the frankensteins off twice now, but
this time there wouldn’t be a moving vehicle to come to the team’s rescue.

In seemingly no time at all, she found
herself at the hilltop, staring down into the compound.

“Stop here,” King said.

His comment surprised her, and when she
looked over, she saw him nodding his head. “I caught some of what you said,” he
confessed. “My hearing’s coming back a little bit. You made the right call. But
I have an idea.”

She glanced down into the compound where the
massed frankensteins had noticed their return and were starting to move toward
the gate. “I’m listening, but make it quick.”

“Everybody out!”
This time, King’s shout was intentional. He
leaned toward Zelda, and in a less strident tone, he added: “Leave it in
neutral.”

At last, Zelda understood. She straightened
the wheel, shifted the gear selector to ‘N’ and then applied the parking brake
before sliding out of the driver’s seat. When everyone was out, she released
the brake, whereupon Somers gave the van a hearty push and sent it careening
down the hill.

Many of the monstrosities leapt out of the
way, but nearly a dozen of them decided to meet the charge head-on—wild dogs
facing down a charging elephant. Broken bodies went flying in every direction.
The multiple impacts caused the vehicle to veer slightly to the right, and as
it reached the compound, the front bumper crashed into one of the gateposts
with a crunch that reached their ears a moment later.

“I guess we’re not getting our deposit back,”
Tremblay said.

TWENTY-NINE

Shin watched the van crash into the gateposts, and then he lowered his
eye once more to the rifle’s scope. Human forms flitted across his field of
view, moving past the crosshairs, but they never lingered in one place long
enough for him to take a shot.

The men with the Kalashnikovs—the ‘gangstas’—had
been the first priority targets. They were armed, and to all appearances, they
had acted as the leadership element. They were the head of the serpent, as it
were—for the larger body of unarmed slave soldiers. Taking the leaders out had
been easy enough. Even when their comrades in arms had begun to fall, they had
done what men in combat always do; they sought cover and started looking for a
place to direct their answering fire.

Unfortunately, cutting the head off the snake
had not killed the snake. Shin realized that he had misinterpreted the
relationship between the triad officers and the slave force. They were not
leaders or shepherds, marshaling a force of unwilling conscripts; they were the
leash restraining a pack of wild animals, and now that they were gone, the
beasts were running wild. Deprived of intelligent leadership, they simply reacted
to anything that moved. Right now, their collective attention seemed to be
focused on the small group escaping into the woods surrounding the compound.

There was nothing more for him to do. “Time
to go,” he announced.

‘Race’ Banion, acknowledged with a nod and
stowed his spotter’s scope in his backpack, as Shin broke down his rifle and
prepared to move out.

True to his callsign, Banion sprinted ahead,
and Shin, still nursing a sore ankle, had to push himself just to keep the man
in sight. Worse, the Delta sniper wasn’t following their original route,
staying on the high ground where the terrain was more solid and there was less
foliage, but he chose a direct route, bushwacking through the woods. Shin gave
up trying to dog the man’s footsteps, and kept to the longer but more familiar
path he had used earlier.

The noise of the helicopter, which had been
steadily powering up for several minutes, abruptly changed in timber and pitch
as the aircraft lifted off the roof of Building Two, and for a moment, the
deafening thump of its rotors beating the air overwhelmed all other sounds.
Then, just as quickly, the sound began to diminish. Shin glanced skyward and
saw the running lights of the helicopter moving away to the southwest.

Just before the din of the departing craft
vanished altogether, Shin heard a rustling noise in the undergrowth, from the
general direction Banion had gone. He stopped for a second, craning his head to
locate the source of the noise, but the woods had already gone silent again.

“Race?”
He spoke in a stage whisper. This far from
the compound, there wasn’t a need for absolute stealth. He didn’t want to use
the radio, preferring to keep the net open for communication with the rest of
the team.
“You out there?”

No reply.

He listened a few seconds longer,
then
he resumed his trek. In his night-vision display, he
could see several glowing objects directly ahead, and he correctly guessed that
they were infrared chem-lights Parker had deployed as a beacon to guide the
disparate elements of the team to the rendezvous. A minute later, he saw Parker
and ‘Dark’ Meyers, both in the prone firing position and facing in opposite
directions.

Parker glanced up at him and then looked past
him, searching the woods with his gaze. “Where’s Race?”

“He took a shortcut. I expected him to be
here already.”

Parker frowned. “Damn it, doesn’t anybody pay
attention to what I say?” He keyed his mic. “Race, this is Irish. Do you copy?”

There was no response.

Shin’s forehead creased in concern. It wasn’t
impossible that Banion had gotten turned around in the dense undergrowth and
wandered off in the wrong direction, but if he wasn’t responding to the radio,
it portended something
more dire
. Shin thought about
the injury he had suffered moving through the low areas in broad daylight;
Banion could have similarly fallen and been knocked unconscious.

Parker repeated the message again, with no
more success,
then
shook his head with a scowl. “King,
this Irish. What’s your ETA?”

Zelda’s voice came over the radio. Her words
were in short, clipped bursts, and Shin thought she might be running as she
spoke. “This is Legend. King’s comms are out. Estimate five mikes to the rally
point.”

“Roger, Legend. I have to go collect one of
my wayward children. The rally point is marked with IR glowsticks, but we’ll
try to be back and waiting for you.”

“Good copy, Irish.
Legend
out.”

Parker rose to his feet and faced Shin. “Do
you remember where you lost him?”

Shin felt a twinge of irritation at the
implication that he was somehow responsible for what had happened, but he let
the misdirected criticism pass without comment. Instead, he simply waved for
Parker and Meyers to follow.

He had no difficulty retracing his steps, but
as he returned to the spot where he had been standing when the helicopter had
taken off, he realized that he couldn’t recall exactly when he’d last seen
Banion. He gestured down a gentle slope at the general area where he had heard
the rustling noise.

Parker peered into the unlit shadows.
“Race!
You out there?”
When there
was no answer, he turned to the others. “Okay, spread out. We’ll walk a police
line. Maybe we’ll trip over him.”

Shin moved to Parker’s left and placed
himself
about twenty feet away. Meyers moved to the other
side. At a signal from Parker, they all started down the slope. After just a
few steps, the tangle of vegetation broke up the orderliness of the effort, but
Shin could still see Parker, and less distinctly, Meyers through the trees.

There was sudden thrashing in the foliage.
Meyers let out a yelp and then simply vanished, as if a trapdoor in the forest
floor had opened beneath him. A squeal of static and noise burst over the
radio, followed by loud staccato cracks overhead—the sound, Shin realized
suddenly, of bullets striking and breaking tree branches.

Parker, closer to the source, reacted first.
He brought his MP5 around and moved toward the disturbance, shouting Meyer’s
name.

“Watch it!” Shin called out, moving quickly
but in a low crouch, just a few steps behind Parker. “He’s shooting wild!”

The random gunfire ceased. Shin
reached Parker’s side a moment later, and even though he knew that something
bad had happened, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

Meyers appeared to have fallen
into a waist deep hole, but that alone could not account for his look of raw
terror. He thrashed wildly, directing frantic blows into the hole as if trying
to beat out flames.

Parker thrust a hand out. “Take
it.”

Meyers looked up at him, his
face twisted with both desperation and pain, but before he could reach out or
do anything else, something moved beneath him, and he was gone, sucked
completely into the dark void.

Meyers’s screams rose up from
the opening, but then were abruptly silenced, replaced by a very different
sound—the sound of bones crunching.

Parker pulled back
involuntarily, but then he started forward, as if intending to go into the hole
after Meyers. Shin hastily threw his arms around the other man to prevent him, because
he had caught a glimpse of something moving inside the hole. Something that
wasn’t Meyers…

Something that wasn’t human.

Then he saw more movement, not
in the pit that had swallowed the Delta sniper, but in the undergrowth all
around them. Shapes were squirming out from beneath the trees all around
them…serpentine…reptilian…enormous.

Shin recalled the words of the
old gatekeeper. “
Buru
…
Nagas
…
Very
dangerous.”

So this is what he was talking about
.