Hunter Read online

  Frowning, Takakura bent his dark head. "How soon before we encounter this creature?"

  Hunter hesitated, measuring the commitment burning in their faces before he lifted his rifle, turning away.

  "Whenever it decides," he said.

  *

  Chapter 8

  After reorienting from the discovery of the grizzly and deciding to establish camp at the first available defensive position, Hunter led them down the ridge by dead reckoning. He didn't have time for a map or compass, and the Magellan system only revealed where you were, not the suitability of surrounding terrain for bivouac purposes.

  Bobbi Jo was to his left, as usual, and Ghost moved to his right, often lifting his head to search by sight before he lowered his nose and sniffed, suddenly disturbed. Hunter paused but saw nothing, and had no time for a detailed examination, so they kept moving through a gathering dark that would fall like a phantom's cloak on these trees, making even the moon seem distant and weak.

  Since discovering the bear, Hunter had carried in his hand the ragged claw he had retrieved from the steel panel of the destroyed research facility, trying to construct everything he knew about the beast into a cohesive picture. Although broken, it was thick as a bear's—long and slightly curving with a tip that razored to a wicked, hooked point. He wondered if it was used primarily for slashing or piercing or even holding; he couldn't decide.

  It was strangely tapered, almost in a wedge. He had never seen one like it because most claws were task-specific, tailored to a particular job like digging, holding, slashing, or climbing. But this claw seemed to be unnaturally all-purpose, as if it could gouge, pierce, or tear; an effective weapon or tool.

  It was also finely serrated, so no matter what, it retained an effective cutting edge. It reminded him of the teeth of those prehistoric sharks, the Carcharodon Megalodon, whose teeth, recovered 10,000 years later from the ocean floor, still retained a serrated razor sharpness. He turned his mind back to making a quick and secure camp. Found Takakura moving beside him.

  "You have never seen anything like this?" he asked with some credulity. "Not ever?"

  "No," Hunter replied. "I've tracked everything on earth, Commander, and I've never tracked anything that moved purposefully from stone to stone. Nothing that made sudden changes of direction without reason. Nothing that didn't move on a circuit or within a territory. And, strangely, this thing doesn't seem to hunt at all. It just kills whatever it encounters by chance, eats it and moves on. It kills a lot and eats a lot, but it holds to the direction it's going like a man. It knows exactly where it's heading, that much is clear. So it has purpose." Hunter paused, turned toward Takakura: "But the only purpose a normal animal has is survival, Commander. So this thing, whatever it is, doesn't think like an animal. It has some kind of...some kind of plan or something."

  Takakura appeared disturbed, but he did not dispute Hunter's words. "Can you discern anything else? We must know as much as possible. What about its fight with the grizzly? Did you learn anything of its methods?"

  "I told you most everything I could read. It was short but ferocious. All I can say for sure is that it fights pure, with no hesitation. It doesn't have any mercy. But some part of it ..." Hunter shook his head. "Some part of it thinks like a man."

  Takakura also shook his head, openly frustrated.

  Hunter continued as they moved quickly. "Generally a bear won't fight on the ground because nothing is big enough to take it down. Even another bear. They fight on their back legs, strike with their forelegs." His face tightened. "No, I've never seen anything strong enough to take a grizzly to the ground and kill it like that."

  "I see," said the Japanese. He hoisted his rifle and adjusted a leather strap holding the katana. His dark eyes narrowed at the distant ridge, still lit by the crimson light of a descending sun. "We cannot make the ridge before dark. We will estab-"

  Suddenly a thunderous god-roar of shocking animal might erupted violently from the ridge to crash over them, and they raised aim as one. And for the faintest split second an enormous manlike silhouette was half visible—snarling, raging, challenging. And then it was gone, turning and disappearing beyond the rocky ridge like a vaporous apparition.

  Staring up, feeling the racing of his breath, the pounding of his heart, Hunter almost couldn't believe what he had seen—something he surely saw more clearly than the others because he had almost instantly separated it from the green mossy ferns and gloom.

  He heard himself whispering, "God Almighty ..."

  Vicious expletives were hurled up and down the rank, Taylor overpowering them all with, "What the hell was that! What the hell was that?"

  Hunter lowered his rifle long before the others, knowing it wouldn't reveal itself again.

  No, that hadn't been for conflict. That had been to officially announce the battle and the war about to come. And, probably most of all, to satisfy some kind of pure bestial pleasure, some latent need to display its superiority.

  Hunter was certain: tonight.

  And if it attacked them here in the open ground when they were without a defensible perimeter, they would be slaughtered as quickly as the grizzly.

  "Move quickly!" Takakura hissed. "We must make camp. Quickly! Quickly!"

  Hunter was already moving, searching for clearing with easy access to the stream. They had covered a little more than three hundred yards when he found it, a fairly level section ringed on three sides by a wall of forest. Hunter didn't like the size of the perimeter and searched for a better place to camp, but they were out of time. This would have to suffice.

  "This is the best we're gonna get for the night," he said, casting a glance at the low full moon, hazy and hauntingly large on the horizon. "In thirty minutes it'll be pitch dark."

  "Fuck that!" Buck said, throwing a pile of wood he'd already grabbed down in the center of the clearing. "This place is gonna look like daylight!"

  In two minutes he had a blazing fire going and was still feeding more wood. And he returned to the woods with his rifle close, quickly gathering more scattered branches to hurl a mound into a bonfire that would easily illuminate the small clearing through the night.

  Takakura was hurling terse instructions for incendiaries, motion detectors, listening devices, occipital laser locaters and random intruder scanning devices to be set for the perimeter.

  Working quickly, they had everything in place within twenty minutes.

  Hunter, not involved in the military procedures, examined Tipler as they settled, concerned that the old man was breathing heavily and holding his left arm at the wrist. And Bobbi Jo stood watch in the center of the glade. She scanned left, right and back again like a machine, cold and focused.

  Hunter knew that if the creature pierced the gloomy veil imprisoning them, especially while she still had light, she would hit it dead center before it made ten feet.

  "You all right, Doc?" he whispered.

  Breathing heavily, Tipler patted his hand. "I am fine, my boy. You'd best make your preparations as quickly as possible. You have little time. Hurry. You will need food in the morning."

  "Forget the food. No time for it tonight."

  Takakura spoke sternly to the team. "Buck! You take first watch with Wilkenson! We don't know what we are up against but we can be certain that it knows our location! From now, there will be a double guard on all shifts. The rest will sleep close to the fire with weapons ready at all times!"

  Takakura expended the clip to the MP-5, tapped it, reset it quickly, and opened the bolt. His face was fierce as he turned to the surrounding forest. "A fortress of guards and security devices could not stop it from attacking the research facilities! Likely, this defense shall not stop it either! Our best strategy will be a concentrated wall of ordnance that might dissuade it from a full frontal attack."

  Wilkenson spoke. "We actually have an advantage in the clearing that they did not possess at the compounds, Commander. For one, we can observe its approach. And, for the first attack, at least
, we can target it easily. But that is an advantage that will exhaust itself after we hit it once or twice. More than likely, if it is effective, it will adopt a different strategy to avoid direct contact." The Englishman gazed about, seeming to measure distances. "I would project that we will defeat it earlier in the battle, but as the night progresses, I believe it will find a means of penetrating the perimeter."

  Hunter felt a touch at his thigh and knew the silent familiar presence. Without looking he reached down and ruffled Ghost's mane, but the wolf didn't move. As usual, it had been scouting ahead and doubling back to ensure that Hunter was safe. But now they were making camp and Hunter knew Ghost wouldn't leave his side until morning.

  No matter what.

  "Rebecca?"

  Gina s voice contained an edge of suppressed excitement and Rebecca Tanus turned. She saw the younger woman staring up at the electron microscope display screen. The power was set at three-quarter magnification for cytosine and thymine molecules. The pulsating blue light of the screen flicked as she adjusted half a dozen dials.

  Holding a clipboard heavily laden with notes, Rebecca walked forward. "What is it, Gina?"

  "This." Gina leaned back. "I think there's some sort of residue on the cast. Something indigenous."

  Rebecca put down the clipboard and stared. It took her only a moment to see the microscopic tendril set against a blue-gray electric background. "What is it?" she asked quietly.

  "I think it's hemoglobin," Gina said. "I've got heme tone and what appear to be iron atoms and some protein."

  "Protein?"

  "Looks like it."

  "Well, what makes you think that it's not a blood particle from one of the victims?"

  "Because of this." Gina adjusted the screen again, and an amazing blaze of electrons and virtual protons could be seen flickering in and out of focus as she gently turned the dials. Rebecca was reminded that mastering an electron microscope was as much an art as a science. After a moment a cluster of atoms was isolated. Then Gina increased magnification and after another fifteen minutes Rebecca saw the beginning of a DNA chart. She stared at it.

  "It looks human, Gina."

  "'Looks' is the pivotal word," Gina replied, adjusting the scope again. "Watch what happens when I use electrophoresis. I'm going to magnetize the segment and see if it curls away from the positive or negative electrons like human DNA would."

  After a moment, the distinction was obvious.

  "Nothing is happening," said Rebecca.

  "Exactly. Nothing is happening. But it should be."

  They stared at the DNA strand, which seemed remarkably resilient to the magnetic provocation. Gina delicately added a slight amount of phosphorescent dye to the sample. In technical terms it was called fluorescent in-situ hybridization, or "FISHing" for short. It was a process in which geneticists locate particular genes in much the same way as a computer could search and locate for a particular word in a text.

  "I tried to find out why the segment was so resistant to electrophoresis," Gina added. "And I found a hybrid segment of restrictive enzymes that accelerate cloning. Actually, they don't just accelerate. They clone so quickly that an invasion, like a virus or bacteria, is almost instantly absorbed and destroyed. The only thing this DNA lacks is the ability to reproduce enough of itself to construct a consistent molecular polymerase chain."

  Rebecca was bending toward the screen. "And what, exactly, does that mean, Gina?"

  "It means that, it this strand were complete, which it isn't, it would be able to clone, or, rather, duplicate, polymerase genes indefinitely. Which means, in effect, that it would have almost unlimited cellular reproductive capabilities."

  Rebecca was silent for a moment. "Okay, let's suppose you're right on this. But let's check the preliminaries. Have you used sanitation procedures to make sure the cast wasn't contaminated?"

  "Since it arrived, yes."

  "And do you think you can print this out?"

  "Yeah. But some of the sample will be destroyed. It's going to be impossible to pull it through without damage."

  "I know," Rebecca said slowly. "But we'll still have enough for a printout. That's all we've got and that's all we should need. When you get this into the spectrograph and give me a reading, I'll run it down to Langley."

  Gina turned. "Langley? Why Langley?"

  "Because those are the guys behind all of this," Rebecca said. "I've got a contact there, somebody that Doc put me in touch with before he left. He's supposed to help us out."

  Absorbing it, Gina turned back to the microscope. "Okay," she said in a low voice. "I'll have it ready for you in about an hour."

  "Good enough," Rebecca whispered. A disturbed frown creased her face as she gazed at the screen. "So, this is our mystery man." Her eyes narrowed. "What is it that scares me about this guy?"

  Glancing across the small glade, Hunter saw Bobbi Jo tightly holding the Barrett sniper rifle. It was an awesome weapon, and the full metal jacket cartridges were each six inches long.

  Hunter couldn't imagine her taking the recoil of the savage detonation required to hurl a three-hundred-grain bullet as far as two thousand yards. But now that he knew what it was, he remembered that he had heard accurate hits at that range, and even farther ones were not outside the ability of the weapon.

  He remembered that an emergency shipment of Barretts had been ordered by the U.S. Marine Corps after the 1983 attack on their barracks in Beirut, Lebanon. And in days following the attack they had more than proven their effectiveness at long-range combat.

  Since they had begun tracking together, Hunter had developed sincere respect for the sniper. She said little, never seemed to lose patience, and only challenged his judgment when she had good reason. Yet if he overruled her ideas, she didn't debate. With a silent nod she would quietly tall in beside him, and he noticed she was learning from his movements. In time, he thought, she could be vastly superior to the corps of army trackers that this thing defeated so easily at the research facility

  And, somehow, he was beginning to wonder if it might not also defeat him, too. He had been frustrated before, mostly by bobcats who walked so softly and carefully, leaving no sign. But never by anything of such enormous size and weight.

  Even large cats, like cougars and tigers, were much easier to track than a bobcat because their heavy paws, which enhanced silence, also left distinct impressions. But this thing ruled in the worst of both worlds. It rarely left a clear track because it selected the hardest surfaces, always made the smart move, and couldn't be predicted.

  Hunter's face hardened as he pondered it, and then Bobbi Jo shouldered the rifle and pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, tying it with a deft move. Afterwards she paused, staring at the perimeter, motionless and concentrated.

  Hunter anticipated the movement, saw it in her profile before she even turned and, slowly, bent her head to gaze steadily at him. She didn't blink, didn't smile. And he held her look for a long time before he frowned, turning his attention to the professor. He had prepared the old man a meal from a large trout he had cooked and smoked that morning, knowing he himself would need the energy. But he sacrificed it now because of the old man's health. He had also given him a generous amount of pemmican—a mixture of beef jerky and animal fat. It was highly nutritious and kept for long periods of time in even the most extreme conditions. It had been a favorite staple of mountain men and American Indians, and Hunter always carried a small supply.

  After a while the professor seemed to regain a measure of strength, though his face was still whitened, glistening with a sheen of sweat. Hunter knew it was the sudden run through the forest to the clearing that had strained him.

  "Drink some more water, Professor," Hunter said. "Dehydration kills quick this high."

  "Yes, yes, so I've heard," the old man replied, smiling faintly. He took a sip. "Ah, yes, a rather ...electrifying experience, that was." After a moment he asked, "Will it attack tonight, do you think?"

  Hunter shook his hea
d. "No way to know."

  "But what do you think, my boy?"

  Raising his eyes to scan the extensive perimeter, Hunter saw everyone alert with weapons ready. "It could, Professor. But it's too unpredictable. This thing doesn't move or think like anything I've ever tried to—"

  Hunter joined what happened next by reflex.

  Buck had been the first to unleash, the shotgun shredding the night at a titanic and monstrous image of underworld might that had broken the south treeline, charging out of the dark with an imperious air of indestructibility. And not even a full second passed before they opened up together, six weapons blazing outward. But Hunter spun toward the center when Bobbi Jo finally fired—the Barrett detonating with at least five feet of flame mushrooming from the barrel in a tremendous concussion that made the other weapons seem insignificant.

  Stunned, Hunter whirled back to the beast, still firing. But he saw that the incredible impact of the Barrett had stopped the beast in stride, wounding it in the collar. Then Bobbi Jo had fired again, the brutal collision of the round staggering it backwards into the brush as the rest continued to hurl a wall of heated lead.

  Falling back awkwardly with a wounded roar, it rose again as the forest around it was devastated by multi-weapon fire. Then, holding a hand to its chest, it staggered away. They continued the attack for another moment before Takakura bellowed for them to cease fire. But he was forced to repeat his command a number of times before they fell silent in a swirling gray atmosphere of smoking rifles. The ground was littered with brass cartridges and spent shotgun shells, and echoes of the wild cascade reverberated off distant mountains.

  Hunter had ceased firing before the rest, having expended the six rounds of the Marlin at the nightmarish form in seconds. Together, backing up, they reloaded, quickly dropping clips and inserting shotgun rounds.