Specters: A Monster Squad Novel - 8 (39 page)

*****

Spalding scanned the room and saw Gus Tracy tied to the support pole in the center. The creature that stood above him was unlike anything he had ever laid eyes on before. In the glow of the firelight, Darren could swear he was looking at one of the museum wax figures of a caveman come to life. The creature held a large rock above Gus with its powerful arms and was obviously about to crush his head with it.

Sullivan’s weapon barked and three rounds erupted from the suppressed barrel. Two struck the creature in the upper right chest and one round grazed it’s temple. The creature bellowed as it staggered back and the rock it held in its hands fell, striking Gus.

Spalding lowered his weapon and rushed to assist when a dark blur tackled him from the side. During his sweep, he missed the other creature huddled along the stack of abandoned hiking gear. The two tumbled and his weapon was knocked free in the struggle. Besides the speed and strength of the creature squeezing the life from him, the stench was nearly overpowering.

He heard shouts and grunts mixed with muted groans as he struggled with the creature in the subterranean chamber. His hand slid to his belt and his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his knife. He slid it from the Kydex sheath and plunged it rapidly into the body of the monster riding him. He felt the hilt of the blade meet flesh before he pulled it free and drove it deep into the monster’s soft hide again and again until it finally quit struggling.

He felt the creature move from on top of him and he was relieved to see Donovan pulling the heavily muscled humanoid off of him. He was surprised, however, to note that the attacking monster was a female as Donovan laid it down on the earthen floor beside its mate.

Spalding held his side as he stood, nearly certain that he had at least a cracked rib or two based on the pain he felt when he sucked in air. “Get Gus out of those binds.”

“Uh, boss?” Sullivan gave him a solemn look. He slowly shook his head.

Spalding ignored the pain in his side as he stepped over the bodies and rounded the large pole in the center of the room. Gus lay on his side, his skull broken open by the large rock.

Spalding fell to his knees and checked the big man for a pulse. When he was certain there was no sign of life he slumped and collapsed next to him. “This isn’t right.” He shook his head in disgust. “Taken out by a fucking caveman.”

*****

Stevens continued to steal glances at the man sleeping on the examining table. His actions didn’t go unnoticed. “He won’t bite you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He finally set down the file he had been pretending to read and studied the man more carefully. “What happened to his hands?”

Evan turned and pulled Mark’s hand into his own. “It appears nearly normal now.” He rolled it over and looked at the palm before placing it back across his midsection and resuming his place at the table. “It would appear I was correct.”

“So, he’s going to be okay?”

“That’s a relative term.” Evan closed the file and pulled another one closer. “The man is…” He sighed. He stole a quick glance at the major and shook his head. “He’s pigheaded, he’s an ass, and he’s nearly intolerable. But he’s also honorable. He’s loyal. He’s a tactical genius.” He stood and crossed his arms, staring down at the man he both admired and often times wanted to choke to death. “He’s interminable. In both good and bad ways. He demands your best and he gives his. Always. He loves a good practical joke and yet he can be so serious.”

“How on earth do you work with someone like that?”

Evan snorted. “It’s not easy, trust me. The man can push your limits. But at the same time, he has a way about him that makes you want to give your absolute best.”

“You respect him.”

“In some ways. In others, I want to smother him in his sleep.”

It was Stevens’ turn to snort. “I’ve worked with a few like that in my day.”

“Trust me, there are no others like him.” He paused and shuddered involuntarily. “If there’s a god in heaven, there’s no more like Major Tufo. The world couldn’t take it.”

A claxon sounded that made Stevens jump and Evan startled. Stevens gathered the files closer and looked around anxiously. “What the hell is that?”

“If I didn’t know any better…I’d think we were under attack.”

Mark was sitting up, his eyes wide as he stared through the clear acrylic walls of the lab. “Are we being attacked?”

“I don’t know Major. I believe that’s the alarm for—” Evan didn’t finish his sentence before Major Tufo’s skin changed pallor. It went from flesh tone to a dark mottled grey and his fingertips had grown talons once more. Before Evan could register what had happened, Mark was off the exam table, out the door and up the stairs.

“W-what the hell was that?” Stevens stammered.

“I couldn’t honestly say.”

*****

Dominic was carrying his weapons to the armory to turn in when the first shots ricocheted off the wall of the hangar. At first, the action didn’t register with him, and he stared at where the round embedded itself in the wooden crates stacked near the front entrance.

The second and third rounds caught his attention, and he leapt to the side sounding an audible alarm. The guards in the shack pulled the chicken switch and the claxon echoed throughout the hangar moments later.

“Tactical stations!” Dom yelled to his team, wishing he still wore his coms. He maneuvered around the stack of crates and tried to see who was stupid enough to attack the squads head on and on their own turf.

Marshall slid in next to him and brought his weapon to bear. “How many?”

“I can’t see to tell.” A corner of the wooden crate exploded next to him sending splinters in all directions. “They’re not going to let me stick my head out to count either.”

Marshall elbowed him and pointed up. “Give me a boost.”

Dom stood on hands and knees and Marshall climbed up and onto the stack of crates. He leveled his rifle and peered through the scope. “Holy shit. They’re Air Force.”

“Why the hell would the Chair Force be attacking us?” Dom slipped to the back corner of the crates and tried to peer around the other side. The angle was off and he was blind.

“Beats me, but damned if they…hey. I think I see that guy from Team One out there. Sheridan’s teammate.” Marshall no sooner finished speaking before he rolled off the crate, the top erupting in splinters from gunfire. He sat beside Dom and shook his head. “They saw me.”

“No shit.”

Hammer slid extra magazines across the floor to the pinned down pair. “I count at least fifteen. Full auto weaponry. Mac and Ben are checking our flanks.”

“Get the coms!” Dom yelled, pointing to the stand where they checked their gear. “Secure us a frequency and somebody alert the colonel!”

Wallace trotted up beside hammer with a black bag. He held it up and shook it at Dom. Swinging the bag he let it fly. Marshall dug through and pulled out their earbuds and radios. Assorted flashbangs and extra pistol magazines were dumped and divvied up.

Dom hefted a flash bang and smiled. “Time to make the doughnuts.” He pulled the pin and tossed the grenade in a gentle arc. From Hammer’s vantage, he watched as it sailed out through the front overhead door and bounce out among the intruders.

As soon as the M84 popped, the operators stepped out and began firing at the targets that were still standing. They folded like wet paper and the four hunters stood near the hangar opening, scanning the area for tangos.

Shots rang out from a distance and Wallace cursed as a round pierced his thigh, collapsing him. Dom grabbed the man by the shoulder and dragged him back inside, Hammer and Marshall providing cover fire.

As the four backed into the hangar and relative safety, Marshall had to do a double take, unsure he was seeing what his eyes were telling him. The men they had just shot and killed…stood back up and were retrieving their weapons from the ground. He tapped Hammer and pointed. “Tell me I’m not seeing that.”

“Body armor. It has to be.” Hammer leveled his weapon again and opened fire, advancing toward the door once more. He continued firing, emptying his magazine into one person’s chest, seeing the pink mist erupt with each round and knowing that if there was armor there, it had been shredded by the silver-plated rounds.

Satisfied that at least one of the attackers was out of the game, Hammer began backing into the hangar once more, only to stop when he saw the attacker he downed slowly get up from the ground once more. Blood poured from his chest wound and his arm barely functioned, but he picked up his weapon and began to advance.

“Uh, Houston, we have a problem here.”

Dom’s earpiece came alive. “Sierra One, we’ve got tangos approaching from the east. They won’t stay down!” Mac’s voice registered the surprise and terror of facing an enemy that refused to die when killed.

Dom keyed his throat mic. “Secure those doors. Nothing gets inside! Do you hear me?
Nothing
gets inside! This is our home and we will protect it!”

“Lock and load, ladies!” Gonzales yelled as he ran to assist Mac and Ben on the East entrance.

Dom slid Wallace beside a lathe and propped him up. “How you doing, TD?”

“Been better.” He clenched his jaw as he struggled to pull his belt from the loops. “It’s bleeding like a bitch.”

“Hit an artery?” Dom ripped open his pants and tried to check the wound.

“I don’t think so, but dammit it hurts.” TD cinched his belt around the wound and tightened it, wincing as the pain surged. “At least it ain’t silver, right? Damn, I’d hate to lose my leg over something stupid like that.”

“I hear ya, buddy.” Dom patted the smaller man’s shoulder. “You sit tight. We’ll get Doc to take a look at ya.”

“They’re advancing again!” Hammer’s voice shot through Dom’s earpiece.

“Gotta get back to work.” Dom stepped out from behind the lathe and leveled his weapon. “Get some!” He opened fire, shredding the men in the front wave of the attack.

“They’re not going down!” Marshall yelled.

“Frag ‘em!” Dom yelled.

He slid behind the relative safety of a Humvee as an M67 flew through the air. It bounced once on the concrete floor then out into the crowd of advancing shooters. The concussion from the blast sent bits of gravel, dirt and debris in all directions and Dom waited a moment before sticking his head back out. He smiled at the destruction he expected to see and was shocked as the men slowly started picking themselves up from the ground to advance their fight once more.

“What the hell are these things? Zombies?”

Hammer stood in silence as he watched the men in Air Force uniforms try to pick themselves up from the ground again after the grenade had decimated their bodies. He shook his head in stunned disbelief as they refused to stop coming. The ones that were too far gone suddenly fell over and gave up the fight. He could almost see a flash of yellow light erupt from their broken bodies as they finally collapsed.

He looked to Dom and shook his head. “I don’t think they’re zombies.”

A dark blur shot past the operators and their secure fighting positions within the hangar. Dom had to do a double take as the black uniformed…‘thing’ shot out the front doors of the hangar and began to rip the heads off the fighters that continued to advance. He heard a distinct roar that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end, and he watched in stunned silence as the dark skinned hunter bounced from attacker to attacker, slicing, dicing and ripping until none were left standing.

When the creature stopped and turned back toward the hangar, Dom noticed the short trimmed, grey goatee and he gasped, “Major?”

Tufo’s face wrinkled into what Dom could only imagine was a smile before he took off around the corner of the hangar and toward the east entrance. Dom stared at where he stood only a moment before then suddenly snapped back to reality. He keyed his coms. “Ben, Mac, you have an unknown approaching from behind the tangos. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT fire on the unknown. Do you copy?”

“Copy, Sierra One,” the disbelieving voice replied. Dom turned and took off for the east entrance.

He slid to a stop next to Charmichael. The bodies littering the parking lot was enough to make him do a double take. “I think the other group was a diversion.”

Major Tufo appeared at the door, blood dripping from his hands as he tried to calm himself. “That’s the last of them.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Dom asked.

“It’s a fight-or-flight response. Comes from being infected.” Mark shrugged. “I think.”

Charmichael swallowed hard and gave him a wide-eyed stare. “Major…you look like…”

“Shit?” Mark asked.

“No. Urban camo. Grey camo. You could like totally disappear at night.” He pointed to his hands and Mark lifted them to his eyes.

“Huh, that’s new.”

“More tangos!” Hammer’s voice echoed through the earpieces.

“Son of a…”

*****

Jameson’s phone rang just as he reentered his office. He sighed heavily and tossed his overcoat aside. Reaching for the phone, he noted that it was Robert’s number and rolled his eyes. Would the man ever learn?