The Traveler (51 page)

“Do you know anything about the migratory animals?” Anya asked.

“A little from my observations. It may be a yearly trek to get at the richer volcanic grasses near Erebus, I'm not sure. But the animal life that lives around the volcanoes permanently have decided it was time to get out of Dodge. Why one set goes one way, why the other goes a different direction has me stumped. I guess the large herds of mammoths and bison just don't know anything other than that their migration they have been following for thousands and thousands of years is just too hard a habit to break.”

“That makes sense,” Sarah agreed.

“But one thing I did notice. There are millions upon millions of bones lining that game trail. I believe the raptors actually herd them, or at least take extreme advantage of the migration to kill and eat. There's no end to the smarts of those ugly little bastards.”

Jack's radio suddenly sprang to life. The sound, though loud, made Carl feel like he was part of the modern world again. It did no harm to the psyche of the others either.

“Colonel, Jenks here.”

Jack looked at Virginia and saw the relief in her face when she heard the gruff man's voice.

“Collins,” he said into the radio. He had yet to inform the master chief they had found Everett and the others. Jenks wasn't even aware that Virginia was there. Jack couldn't wait to tell him and hear the cursing start to fly.

“Negative on any roost those damn things may have. We searched until we drained the batteries on both drones. We're recharging now.”

“Good, Master Chief. Is Charlie close by?”

“Yeah, he's right here.”

“We have Mr. Everett.”

The radio was silent as the others around the fire smiled at what must be happening in the camp.

“And a few others that we found picnicking in the woods. One may wish to say hello to you.”

“Wait, damn it, is Toad all right?” came the hurried voice of the master chief. Sarah got up and joined Jack. All the while Henri watched her as she moved. She saw this and then looked at the Frenchman and her eyes told him that she was appreciative of him, but that was all for the moment. Jack tossed Virginia the radio before she could react.

“Oh, your precious Toad is just fine, he saved all of our asses. Maybe you should worry about me, you gruff bastard!”

“Slim, what in the holy Sam hell are you doing out here? I told you to keep your skinny ass out of—”

Virginia turned down the volume on the radio and smiled at the others. “That will keep him occupied for a while.” She tossed back the radio to Jack and he caught it with a grin.

Collins held the radio and then looked at Carl. “You see, everyone missed you so much that I bet you can't wait to get back and deal with your old buddy on a daily basis.”

“Don't you dare tell me that,” Carl said as he turned on Collins. “Did everyone lose their damn minds while I was gone?” He paced around the fire. “The director would never allow that man anywhere near his precious collection,” he said in his final defensive denial.

“When you're discussing and designing ways of going into hell,” he explained, looking around the horrific world, “you sometimes have to deal with the devil, Swabby, you know that. And without Jenks we would never have had the chance.”

“I am going to kick everyone's asses on this deal, let me tell you.”
They caught the final threat of the master chief as Jack turned the volume back up.

“She's happy to hear your voice, too, Master Chief,” he said with mock seriousness.

“She's all right? The others?”

They heard the belated concern in Jenks's voice.

“Everyone's still breathing.”

“Okay, I'll deal with her when you people get your asses back here, and that little event better be soon.”

“Why is that?”

“Because those raptor things are increasing their attacks on the animal herds and they are starting to move far faster than we realized.”

Collins lowered the radio in wonderment as to their ability to catch a break.

“We'll send all nonessential personnel back to you. We have to continue on until we find out what those things do with their spoils of war.”

“Roger. Get them back so I can bounce some ideas off of Slim's head.”

“Watch out for those Russians, they're loose out there and they're scared. They may make a move for the doorway.”

“Let them try it if they want to get their asses sliced in two. The laser system is working just fine. But they or the power won't hold up to a full-scale onslaught of those rock-and-spear-chuckin' chicken bastards.”

“Roger, Collins out.”

“Jack, what was it you were saying about a nest, or lair?” Carl asked.

“It may be nothing, but the off chance that the raptors collect things of beauty, shiny objects, just like other birds, we're hoping, or at least Doc Ellenshaw was hoping, that they took it there, wherever that is.”

They saw Everett thinking. He pursed his lips and that was when he turned to them. “I may know where that lair is.”

Collins stood with the faint hope that Everett may have an answer. Then he felt his heart skip when he saw the look on the admiral's face.

“It's close by. About three klicks out. But, Jack, you in particular are not going to like it.”

“What is it?” he asked as the others came near.

“First, I have to feed my chickens, we're going to need them.”

“Chickens?” Mendenhall asked, not liking the sound of anything that had to do with birds of any kind.

“Yeah, I like the eggs, and they like being fed without hunting for their meals. It's a mutual thing. They need me and I them.” He saw the strange looks being directed his way as if he had truly lost his mind. “Hey, you guys try living alone out here and not talk to strange birds.”

“I do not like the sound of this at all,” Will said as he and Ryan exchanged looks of dread. They all made their way to feed Admiral Everett's chickens.

*   *   *

Charlie watched the small radar screen that controlled the automatic defense system. The miniscule blobs of light would appear and then vanish just as quickly. It was as if the raptors on the camp's periphery were testing their defenses.

“They're a little leery after getting their asses kicked the last time. They're just trying to get us to react,” Jenks said as he looked through the lens of his night-vision scope that zoomed in three hundred times power. He chewed on the dead cigar and hissed under his breath.

“Do you hear yourself?” the crazed white-haired Ellenshaw asked as he kept his eyes on the scope and the surrounding countryside.

“What?” Jenks asked as he lowered the scope.

“My God, we're actually worried that these abominations are merely trying to get us to react to them. Like they are hoping for a desired plan to take shape.”

The silence coming from the master chief was enough to unnerve Charlie.

“How many can we get with our limited supply of battery power?”

“Enough to probably piss off the remaining three or four thousand of the damn things when we're all done.” Jenks smiled at Charlie, who had finally turned away from the screen in abject fear.

“Just think Little Big Horn, if that's easier for you to grasp, Nerdly.”

*   *   *

The seven novice adventurers were stunned at the makeshift pen Everett had set up toward the rear of the stockade where the Romans had stored other animal life in their short tenure as rulers of this horrid land. What was inside the pen was far more shocking to them. Pecking the ground and scratching at its ash-covered surface were about fifteen of the giant rocs. The huge ostrich bodies were well over ten feet, far taller than a horse. The heads were large and the beaks terrifying in hooked deadliness. These rocs looked different to Ryan and Mendenhall. The killers they and the Russians had run into were multicolored with red and gold and black feathers, where these fifteen were white with red highlights. Their small, stubby wings flapped every once in a while when their beaks came into contact with some crawling thing making its way through the accumulated ash. They were calmly scratching for food as the humans watched them.

Carl went over to a large barrel that looked as if it were a thousand years old. He lifted out a large wooden bowl full of what looked like grain. He walked quickly over to the fence and then he opened the small gate and reattached a rope made of vine twistings. He approached the first roc as the others held their breath.

“You are one crazy son of a bitch, Skipper,” Ryan said as his blood froze when the roc looked up at Everett's approach. “Will and I saw one of those tear a man's head off not five hours ago.”

Carl turned and smiled. “Yeah, I've run across those guys too, they're not friendly at all. These here? I think they may have been on their way to being domesticated by the Romans, Japanese, and Chinese soldiers before they were wiped out.” He turned and put his hand out to the roc. They were shocked when the giant bird nuzzled at Everett's hand. The three long gouges in its beak told the newcomers this particular roc had seen trouble and survived. The head of the rooster was colored in bright red feathers that ended in a curlicue at its top. They could also see the obvious affection Carl had for the large, frightening animal.

“This one is my friend, we each saved the other's life. His name is Foghorn.”

“Just when you thought this day could not get any stranger,” Henri said as he leaned on the rickety fence that wouldn't have kept in a small bunny, much less the five-hundred-pound monstrosities moving toward their handler.

Everett turned and looked at Henri and his smile widened. With the beard it made the brevet admiral look quite insane, especially in the torchlight.

“You haven't seen strange yet. You still have to saddle your transportation.”

“Transportation?” Jack asked, looking at Sarah, who also had no clue as to what Everett was talking about.

Everett took the grain and tossed it wide in an arc and the giant chickenlike rocs went wild as they started to feed on the sweet grain.

“Yeah, I just fed 'em, but you have to saddle 'em yourselves.”

*   *   *

The old saddles were not saddles at all. In the real sense it was a strap of leather that was butt wide with bridles and harnesses. There were no stirrups to speak of.

“I can only assume they're Roman. God knows they're hard to ride on, but it beats the alternative of having those course feathers poking you in your ass.” Everett laughed when he saw his friends' faces. Farbeaux was in particular despair. “When you get on, be sure to put your feet and legs under its wings. It helps to hang on. Their gait and angle of run can be a little disconcerting from time to time.”

They had watched on in complete and abject horror when Carl placed his hands near each of the roc's mouths as they pecked at the grain thrown to the ground. Everett easily placed a bridle on each, securing the beak with a leather strap that looked as if it couldn't control a small donkey, much less a Rodan-sized creature. Each of the eight rocs Carl selected as being the most docile of the group were bridled, saddled, and anxiously awaiting their riders. The yellow eyes flicked back and forth and made them all nervous with the eight sets of predator eyes watching them.

“Okay, you two have your orders. You take one of the M-4s,” Jack said as he unslung his own weapon and handed it to Will Mendenhall, “and one of the Glocks. We'll take one M-4 and we have Carl's Glock and extra ammo.” He smiled and looked at an anxious Carl as he looked into Anya's scared eyes for the briefest of moments. “And of course we have Robin of Locksley's bow and arrows.”

Carl looked at Jack with raised brows. “I was hoping my archery days were behind me.”

“We can only hope. Okay, let's get a move on before the sun comes up and the saber-toothed lions, tigers, and cave bears start to awaken.”

“Don't forget the wooly mammoths and the giant bison,” Virginia joked as if to rid herself of the fear of the great roc she was currently sitting upon with shaking hands holding the leather reins.

Sarah leaned into Collins but Jack refrained from hugging her. Instead Jack just winked. She was relieved that his attitude about their sudden arrival had softened to that of Mount Erebus.

“You kids get straight home, don't stop for Cokes and a burger anywhere,” Carl said as he assisted Anya up onto her feathered mount. He turned serious as Will and Ryan both fought to climb onto their skittish birds who each turned in a wide circle making the men run alongside until they had enough leverage to jump up and onto their frightened animals. Will went over on his stomach and was bounced roughly until he righted himself. His eyes were wide as he looked at the others like he had meant to do that.

“Find that coupling,” Sarah said to Jack as he climbed onto his own roc while having the same difficulty as Ryan and Mendenhall only with a more dignified ending. Once aboard Jack had to laugh at the Frenchman as he sat astride his roc with his elbows sticking straight out to his sides as he held the reins like a poorly trained cavalryman.

“Stick to the game trail, the rocs will let you know in advance if anything is stalking you. Their sense of smell is like that of a great white shark,” Carl said as he leaned over and kissed Anya. “See ya, Gypsy girl.”

She smiled, even though she really didn't care for the great white reference, and then she lightly kicked her giant roc into motion. She almost fell off backward as the long-legged animal started to trot toward the far gate of the stockade. Jason, Sarah, Will, and Virginia hurried to follow using their rocs like out-of-control and headless chickens. Will's mount went in circles before hitting the open gate and then almost threw him from the makeshift saddle until he finally gained control and went after the rest of his team.