Stone Soldiers 5: Black Knight Down (4 page)

BOOK: Stone Soldiers 5: Black Knight Down
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CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

 

Josie couldn't help but laugh. "I love your bling," she grinned.

Jimmy wasn't laughing. The large gold and silver collar he was now wearing- that extended out from his neck at least two inches- fit like an over-sized dog collar.

"You don't have anything smaller?" he asked.

"It was built in the 70s, what do you expect?" Colonel Kenslir said.

Jimmy felt gingerly at the strange collar with its wrapped gold wire and silver prongs. "What happens when I transform- do I get impaled by these spikes or something?"

"When you start to transform, the silver will prick your skin and draw the etheric energy out of your body and into the collar. It'll keep you from changing. And it'll hurt. A lot."

"At least you only have to wear it once a month," Josie teased. "Now you'll get a taste of how us girls feel."

"C'mon, Colonel- there has to be another way," Jimmy pleaded.

"We could stick you in the vault again, but come next month, I'm sure the Pentagon would decide that's too much of a risk for the facility."

"What about Dr. Olson?" Jimmy asked. He slumped down in a chair in the small lab they were in. It was a dusty lab, that clearly hadn't been used for years. Tables and even outdated computers filled a room lined with cabinets and lockers.

"She won't be back from Nevada for some time," Kenslir said. "And we're not sure she could drain enough off of you to stop the transformation."

"So how does it work?" Josie asked, touching the collar to Jimmy's consternation.

"Silver absorbs etheric energy. Kind of like reverse radiation. Gold is magically inert. By combining the two, you can create a kind of battery to draw off power."

"Is that what wizards do?"

"In some cases. They can store their own personal energy in charms and amulets over time, then use it when they need it. They often combine crystals with the metals- some crystals act like superconductors."

"How does someone even figure that out?" Jimmy asked. "I thought we didn't have wizards or witches on the payroll?"

"We have had several scientists working on etheric energy over the decades."

Kenslir frowned and pulled a cellphone from a holster on his belt. He read a message on the screen of the smartphone then put it back in its holster.

"I'm needed in Command. You two get some rest- in separate quarters."

"Colonel!" Josie exclaimed.

"You each have your own quarters- let's try using them for once, shall we?"

Josie glared back at her grandfather but said nothing.

Colonel Kenslir left the lab, walking swiftly to an elevator. Once inside, he took it to the fifteenth floor and headed straight for the command center.

Normally manned with a skeleton crew between missions, the auditorium-like room lined with work stations and gigantic monitors was bustling with activity. Airmen, Sailors and Soldiers manned the various workstations, communicating with America's many military command units.

"What's going on?" Kenslir asked, walking up to an Army Major in dress uniform.

Major Robert Campbell turned to face his commander, lowering a tablet computer he'd been reading. The Major was of average build with prematurely-grayed hair and an impeccable uniform covered with ribbons, badges and insignia.

"We may have a Pandora event," Campbell said. He turned and pointed to the main display on the wall- a ten foot wide projection screen on which was a map of America, with a red flashing beacon in Oklahoma.

"What is it?"

"Anomaly Five is what the Air Force calls it," Campbell said. He snapped his fingers at an Airman a few desks away.

The Airman rushed over, putting the last few pages in an old style folder. Campbell handed it over to Kenslir. "You might have heard of it as
Black Knight
- that's what they called it in the 60s".

Kenslir flipped through the pages in his hastily-assembled folder. "And it's crashed in Oklahoma? How is this a Detachment matter?"

"They suspect this could be a Dark Object," Campbell said. He moved around beside the Colonel and reached in and flipped a few pages ahead. "An airman was killed at the scene under very unusual circumstances."

"Major!" A Sergeant said from a workstation, standing and holding a red-colored phone's handset. When he saw the Colonel, he swallowed. "Sorry, Colonel- we have a mission order."

Colonel Kenslir walked over to the Sergeant and took the handset and listened closely.

"Yes, sir, I understand. Low profile, yes, sir. We'll handle it."

***

 

Six hours later, Kenslir stepped off a UH-60 that had ferried him from a nearby runway to the crash site. Josie climbed out of the helicopter after him, followed by a man wearing bandages wrapped entirely around his head, with only large sunglasses showing. Like Kenslir and Josie, the man wore a full, olive-drab bio hazard suit and carried a matching helmet in one hand.

"This'll never work," Victor Hornbeck said from under his bandages.

"Hey, it worked for the invisible man," Josie said, taking his arm.

Kenslir led his two companions away from the helicopter toward a command tent set up a thousand feet from the edge of the impact crater.

All around the crater rim, high fencing, topped with razor wire, had been erected. Four guard towers, each just over fifteen feet tall and made of little more than scaffolding, had also been set up. Bright flood lights were in place as well, in anticipation of nightfall. Air Force personnel in their digital, tigerstripe utility uniforms were bustling around, some guarding the area, others lugging equipment over from nearby trucks.

"Colonel Hunt?" Kenslir called out as he entered the command tent.

Several airmen looked up from a table over which a large area map had been set up. Lieutenant Colonel Hunt was among them, still chewing on an unlit cigar.

"You Kenslir?" he asked.

"Yes, Colonel," Kenslir said, walking over and extending a hand.

Hunt snapped to attention and gave a brisk salute. "What are your orders, sir?" Something in the junior Colonel's eyes told Kenslir that the Air Force man was none too happy about his new guests' arrival.

Kenslir motioned toward Josie and Victor. "My team and I would like to examine the object."

Hunt looked Victor up and down. "What's with the bandages- your man injured?"

"Yes," Kenslir said.

"He should really be in bed," Josie added nervously, still holding Victor's arm- as if to help him stand.

"Fine. And you won't need those," Hunt said, pointing to the helmets Kenslir, Josie and Victor carried. "No airborne contaminants in the area and no radiation detected."

Hunt scooped up a dark blue beret and his M4 rifle and walked out of the tent. "Well, c'mon- lets go see it."

Hunt led the trio to the crater, up over the slight rise of upheaved soil and down into the crater itself. Cameras and other recording devices had been set up near the black, obsidian object, but nothing was within fifteen feet of it.

Kenslir and Josie slipped on oversized sunglasses as they looked over the fallen satellite.

"We have measured it to be exactly nine feet in diameter, and thirty-six feet in length," Hunt said.

"What's it made of?" Josie asked, looking over the strange, black glass surface of the satellite.

"No idea. We've tried all sorts of non-invasive tests, but can't get a single reading."

"What about the symbols?" Victor asked.

From Victor's point of view, in the large glasses he, Kenslir and Josie wore, superimposed data like a head up display sprang into view. Ambient air temperature, altitude and even wind direction were displayed in his field of view.

>>>NINE FEET IS ALSO SIX CUBITS<<< scrolled across Victor's tactical targeting visor, in bright green letters- a message cybernetically typed out by Kenslir. >>>THOSE SYMBOLS RING ANY BELLS, HORNBECK?<<<

Victor crossed his arms in front of him, gingerly moving his black gloved right hand over the back of his left forearm. Pressing on the sleeve of his biohazard suit, he slowly typed a response out on the keypad strapped to his arm under the bio hazard suit.

>>>ARZONA. THE GINT CHMBR. MAYBEE<<

Kenslir looked to Josie. "It seem cold down here, Winters?"

Josie looked puzzled- but just for a second. "Right."

"That's right," Hunt said, surprised. "There's a five degree difference in temperature here. It increases to ten degrees when you approach the object. And that's Celsius. The eggheads think it's drawing heat from the atmosphere."

Josie was concentrating on the satellite now. She slowly tilted her head ever so slightly to one side. And seemed to be straining. She finally took in a breath.

"Nothing, sir."

"Shall we head back to the tent?" Hunt asked.

"You go ahead," Kenslir said. He pulled off his gloves and began walking toward the satellite.

"Whoa- keep your distance, sir," Hunt said, alarmed and stepping up beside Kenslir. "We lost an airman earlier today- damn fool touched the thing."

"Did he?" Kenslir asked, continuing forward. "What's that silvery bit on the top?"

"Oh, that," Hunt said, nervously walking alongside Kenslir. "We believe it was something made of metal- melted on re-entry. Possibly a collision with something in orbit. Not really sure."

Kenslir stopped just a few feet from the satellite. "Wait here."

"Sir?"

Kenslir stepped forward and extended his hand.

Hunt gasped, his jaw opening and his cigar falling out. He lurched forward trying to stop Kenslir. But the larger Colonel calmly placed a hand on Hunt's chest and stopped him.

"Colonel, stay."

Hunt reflexively grabbed at the hand on his chest, irritated. It was like grabbing the arm of a statue- Kenslir's hand and arm did not budge one iota. Hunt stepped back.

Kenslir turned back to the satellite and slowly extended his right hand, index finger out.

"I wouldn't do that..." Hunt warned.

When his finger was just inches from the satellite, it began to glow- a bright green. Kenslir pushed on and placed his fingertip lightly on the smooth, glassy surface of the satellite.

Green light flared, spreading out from the point of contact, filling the many carved symbols in the glassy surface, radiating out like a ripple in a pond.

Kenslir released his contact with the satellite and stepped back, examining his fingertip.

"Mark?" Josie asked. "You okay?"

Kenslir looked over at Victor. "Let's hold off on you doing that just yet."

Hunt was about to demand to know what was going on when an Airman appeared at the top of the crater rim. "Sir! We have an intruder at the south checkpoint!"

"Son of a bitch!' Hunt declared. "Can't those damn civilians do anything right?"

"I think you're gonna wanna see this, sir," the Airman said.

CHAPTER SIX

 

 

 

The prisoner was not what Lt. Col. Hunt had expected. For one, he was dressed in an all black suit, with a white collar. Dark blonde hair reached down nearly to his shoulders and he had a very short beard and moustache, neatly trimmed.

And he was huge. Every bit as tall as Colonel Kenslir, with equally wide shoulders and thick arms- he looked more like a body builder than a priest.

"Father Lee Schuler," Hunt read from an ID card in the priest's seized wallet. "Care to tell me what brings you to Oklahoma, father?"

Hunt looked down and for the first time noticed the priest was wearing two sets of handcuffs.

"Why is this man wearing handcuffs?" Hunt demanded.

"Uh, the State Police said he broke the first pair," a Sergeant said.

"Sorry about that, Father," Hunt said, and motioned for the Sergeant to remove them.

"Are you in charge here, Colonel?" the priest asked politely. He had a calm, smooth voice.

"Well, partly. But he's the ranking officer," Hunt said, motioning toward Kenslir who stood quietly to the side of the tent they were all in.

Father Schuler was seated on a folding chair, his hands clasped before him. Four guards stood in the tent, nervously, hands on their holstered pistols. One had a black eye.

"General?" the priest asked, addressing Kenslir.

Kenslir slipped off his glasses and walked closer. "Colonel, act-"

The priest suddenly bristled, sitting up straighter in his seat, his nostrils flaring. His hands balled into tight fists and he pulled them apart, effortlessly breaking his handcuffs.

"Spawn of Satan!" the priest declared, leaping up and kicking Kenslir in the chest. The blow sent the surprised Colonel flying out of the tent, while the airmen nearby hastily pulled their guns.

"No!" Josie yelled, holding her hands up for calm.

Victor charged in, swinging a rubber-gloved fist at the priest.

Schuler caught the punch with one hand, then rammed his head forward, into Victor's face. The blow made a great cracking noise, like two rocks thrown together, and Victor staggered backwards several steps.

"Holy Mother of God!" the priest exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. Then he swept up the chair he had been sitting on and hurled it at the closest airman, knocking him off his feet.

The other airmen were still hesitating to fire their pistols in the tight confines of the tent. Schuler lashed out at one, then the other, striking them with his forearms and knocking them off their feet.

Schuler then dropped to one knee, grimacing in pain and grabbing at the sides of his head.

One eye closed and the other barely open, he turned toward Josie. "Witch..." he gasped. Frost was starting to form on his head.

Victor charged in again and grabbed the priest. The two men grappled, the priest rising to his feet and lifting Victor off the ground. He swung him around, Victor's legs knocking the last airman down. With another pivot, Schuler bowled Hunt over, who was yelling into his microphone for reinforcements.

Finally, Schuler threw Victor at Josie. As he flew away from the priest, Victor's bandages unraveled from his head. He stumbled backwards and knocked Josie down, his face now exposed. It was entirely made of gray stone.

"Demon!" Schuler said and started to step forward.

A blur of green and black swept into the tent, seemingly flying. It was Colonel Kenslir, leaping through the air, right leg extended, his heel catching the priest square in the chest. Now the man in black was hurled backwards, knocked off his feet by a flying sidekick that propelled him into the back wall of the tent. The rear poles buckled and half the tent collapsed around them.

Schuler quickly got back to his feet and grabbed at the heavy nylon and canvas of the tent covering him like a net and ripped it apart with ease. Kenslir did the same and two men stood facing each other, half out of the collapsed roof around their waists.

"I suggest you stand down, Father," Kenslir said.

"Beast!" Schuler yelled and charged forward.

Kenslir was ready and sprang straight up in the air- at least fifteen feet straight up. He somersaulted over the charging priest's head, twisting like a cat in mid-leap and landing lightly behind Schuler. He grabbed the priest by the belt and collar and lifted him off the ground. Schuler tried to twist and break free, but instead found himself flung away.

The priest also managed to twist in the air and land on his feet, stumbling two steps and toppling a large pile of equipment cases.

Kenslir, his army-issue, green and black bio hazard suit wrinkling and squeaking in protest, charged at the priest- fists at the ready.

Schuler ducked a roundhouse and grabbed Kenslir around the waist, then lifted him. The Colonel slipped his own arms under Schuler's and somehow managed to pull himself around, over the priest's back. He then scissored his legs up and around Schuler and slammed them both to the ground.

Looping his left leg over Schuler's chest, he locked his right leg over it, then pulled on the priest's right arm, pinning it.

"Let... me... go..." Schuler exclaimed, struggling to free himself. Eventually, he managed to break Kenslir's grip and sprang to his feet.

"You're strong, hell spawn," the priest said. "But I have God on my side."

Kenslir charged in, feinting with a jab at the priest. Schuler blocked it, then was surprised to feel Kenslir's other fist smash into his upper lip. Pain radiated outward from the blow, momentarily filling Schuler's vision with stars. Then more hammer-like blows rained down on him- Kenslir moving at inhuman speed, striking Schuler in the shoulders, solar plexus, stomach and even the legs. Dozens of hits- all in just seconds.

The barrage of crushing blows to the priest's pressure points knocked him to the ground- or at least down onto one knee. As his vision cleared, he felt Kenslir loop an arm around his neck from behind.

"Sweet dreams, Father," Kenslir said, applying pressure to the priest's neck in a sleeper hold.

Schuler struggled, but his hands and arms were still numb and he felt himself fading. Finally, his eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp.

"Oh, my, God!' Josie exclaimed. "Did you just kill a priest?"

***

 

Sir Reginald hated America. Not because of the people- they weren't all that much different from people anywhere. No, he hated coming to the country because of its religions- its many religions. In particular, he disliked the large religion of his new business partners.

It wasn't even a real religion to Sir Reginald- just another feeble attempt by the witches to conceal their true nature from the general public. A made up religion, that had more to do with marketing than actual worship.

But money was money, so he would endure and continue working with these witches.

Sir Reginald straightened the tie of his expensive, white, three-piece silk suit and rang the bell of the large house he had driven to from a local airport. He would just have to steel himself against the absurdities of the witches. At least until they paid him for his services.

The large door to the two-level home opened- revealing a hulking brute crammed into a traditional chauffeur's uniform.

"Sir Reginald?" the chauffeur asked.

"Yes, I'm here to see Ms. Schuster."

The chauffeur stepped back and motioned for Sir Reginald to enter.

The druid glanced about one last time, making certain he wasn't being watched by anyone or by one of America's damned astral spies. Then he entered the home.

Once, this had been the bustling home of a large family of farmers. Not quite modest, but not quite lavish. The multi-generational home of a very successful family. Then the witches had bought the farm- and all the adjoining farms, as well.

Sir Reginald was led through the short hallway into a large room the Americans called a living room. He had always felt that odd- one lived in all the rooms of their home.

His hosts all stood simultaneously. Each was dressed in a dark gray power suit, with silk blouses containing large bosoms and bleached blonde hair pulled back in tight buns. They wore tall stiletto heels and bright red fingernail polish on long nails.

"Sir Reginald!" Simone Schuster said, extending her arms and coming forward. She gave Sir Reginald a big hug, rubbing her ample chest against him.

"Welcome! Welcome!" she said, then turned to her five partners. Each stood calmly, hands clasped before them. "Ladies, our benefactor- the man who has made all this possible... his Lordship, Sir Reginald!"

"Well, I'm not actually a Lord," Sir Reginald said sheepishly.

He was steered over to a couch and sat between two of the blondes.

"Ladies and gentleman!" Simone said, moving to a table and motioning for her manservant to come over. "We are on the eve of precipitous moment. The Black Knight has fallen and soon will be under our control. We will reap the rewards of its possession. And we owe it all to Sir Reginald!"

"Here, here!" Miranda House said, clapping. The other blondes joined in.

Simone began pouring drinks, champagne, into glasses that her servant quickly passed out.

"Sir Reginald, for millennia, the Black Knight has hung over our heads, teasing us with its power and mystery. But now, with your help, we shall finally control both."

"Well..." Sir Reginald said, trying to be modest.

"To you, Sir Reginald!" Simone said, raising her glass high. The others did so as well and then all took a long drink.

"Without your sacrifice, we would have nothing!" Simone said, finishing her drink.

Sir Reginald drained his glass as well. "It wasn't much of a sarifush."

That was odd.

"I mean to shay, I dijn't do rat mush..."

The room was starting to spin. And his tongue seemed awfully thick. Sir Reginald dropped his glass and gripped the couch cushions on either side of him. Then he noticed the manservant was rolling up the large area rug in the center of the room. Beneath it, on the hardwood floor, were lines and symbols. Sir Reginald couldn't quite make them out, as his vision was a little blurry.

He looked to either side of him and saw that his couch companions, that all the women, had stood and were undressing. They shed their suit coats and skirts, unbuttoned their expensive silk shirts. They kicked off their high stilettos and undid their bras.

Sir Reginald grinned. He'd heard about these pagan ceremonies. But most witches he'd encountered were nothing like this group. These ladies all had large, very unnatural, surgically-augmented breasts. Their legs and their armpits were clean shaven. Nor did they smell of sweat and dirt. They smelled rather nice.

When all the women had stripped off all their clothes, the two on either side of Sir Reginald began to undress him. He was glad for this, as he seemed to have lost control of his fingers and arms. In fact his whole body seemed numb. Most of it anyway.

Sir Reginald was grinning from ear to ear when the women led him, stripped to the waist, off the couch and onto the floor. They laid him down carefully on his back in the middle of the room. Simone then came over, her long hair hanging down almost to her large breasts. She straddled Sir Reginald and began to chant. In Latin.

Sir Reginald her never bothered to learn the language. His people spoke a far older tongue for their ceremonies. Not that he particularly cared- he was far too excited to care what Simone and her sisters, each positioned around him at the points of a pentagonal star, chanted.

He felt his shoes and socks coming off, then his pants. Sir Reginald smiled even wider. Normally he'd never even consider touching a dirty, unshaven pig of a witch, but these lovely ladies were entirely different.

Simone rubbed all over Sir Reginald's chest and face- he could just feel, through the numbness, an oil being rubbed over him. It reminded him of his last trip to Thailand.

Simone was chanting louder now, swaying from side to side, her breasts hypnotic. She had her hands above her head. Something was in them. Something shiny.

Simone plunged her hands down and Sir Reginald felt a sudden pain in his chest. He panicked, thinking he was having a heart attack. He was much older than the last time he'd bedded so many women at once, but he was surprised it had come so early in the evening.

The chest pain became more intense now. But Sir Reginald didn't care. He was almost disconnected from his body now. The pain was a distant thing that he could ignore.

A great sucking sound filled his ears, then Sir Reginald saw Simone reach her hands up. Red was running down her arms. And she held something in her hands that throbbed.

Sir Reginald smiled. What an odd ceremony this was. He wondered when it would get to the good part. Then his vision faded and Sir Reginald was no more.

BOOK: Stone Soldiers 5: Black Knight Down
4.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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