Beneath a Winter Moon (56 page)

While Thomas put the finishing touches on their makeshift covering for the pit, Delmar removed the bandages from his knees and from his bullet wound. Thomas looked over in the dim light. “Well?”

“Completely healed,” Delmar said, sadly. “It’s like my knees never had a scratch and my leg only has tiny marks showing where the bullet holes once were.”

“When he gets here, you stay by me. We will still do this together.”

“Not if he takes a decent look at that mess we have over that hole.”

Thomas shrugged. “You were right, though, Delmar. This is what we have to do. No choice. We take him down now, or he takes us.” He pointed to the branches and rubble they had placed over the hole, “If he doesn’t walk into the pit, then we force him into it.”

Delmar wondered just how in the hell they were going to force that beast to go anywhere it didn’t want to go, but he held the question back. The beast would soon find them. There wasn’t much time for argument or despair. Instead, he changed the subject. “How many rounds do you have?”

“Seven for my elephant gun,” he said. “Nine for the pistol.”

Delmar sighed. “I’ve got eleven, but I doubt either of us will get a chance to reload. Oh—and I’ve got four in this Colt.”

Thomas knew Delmar was right. Trying to reload any of the weapons would take an obscene amount of time.

Thomas moved behind a large stalagmite formation. “This will do for cover. It’s right behind the pit and Alastair’s only way of getting to us will be to either fall in or to tippy-toe around the edges…which I doubt he would do.”

Delmar figured that the beast could probably leap over the hole and land right on top of them—and he believed that Thomas had purposely remained silent with regard to that possibility. “When we are out of ammo—in the rifles, I’ll fire my pistol. That will give you a chance to reload your cannon.” He smiled, gesturing to the double-barreled rifle. “Might keep the bastard’s head down for a few seconds, anyway.”

Thomas started to reply but Delmar held up a hand. He closed his eyes for a moment. “He’s coming—and he’s close.”

“The
chem-lites
…” Thomas said.

But Delmar was already moving. He ran to the front of the cavern and methodically removed each of the
chem-lites
, shoving them deep inside his daypack. Soon the only ones left were the two in front of the pit. The dimly glowing tubes would provide the light necessary to aim at the werewolf and to help guide the beast directly in front of the pit.

Thomas thought of his family. His sister, whom he loved dearly and whom had been his best friend and confidant through the years. He thought of old friends, some long gone, and relatives he had neglected to contact for many years. He realized that he had not updated his will since he had left the military. Who would handle everything if he didn’t make it? He had no burial plot, no headstone—and no instructions for anyone in that regard. He had said to his sister once that he’d be comfortable enough with the idea of being buried with other soldiers—perhaps in a veteran’s cemetery. Maybe she would remember.

He found himself regretting that he never married—then he took it back, believing that he would not be good at it. He worried for Jack. He was sorry for bringing him here—and wondered if the husky would actually take an opportunity to flee if Thomas should fall. He prayed that the dog would run. The thought of Jack being killed by the werewolf was such an affront that he could not even hold it in his thoughts for a second before the pain overcame him.

He thought of his mother and father, and wondered if he would be with them if Alastair’s alter ego won the coming battle. Perhaps he would also see his grandfather and grandmother—uncles, aunts, and other relatives long gone.
What about the wrath of God
, he wondered.
What will really happen next?
Maybe his not knowing meant that his afterlife would be filled with endless pain and suffering. With that, he turned his thoughts away. God knew what he felt—knew his sorrow for his sins and the good that was inside him.

 Delmar settled in beside Thomas and leaned against the clay-like mounds of stalagmites. Thomas had broken them off and leveled out an area that was suitable for them to use as rifle-rests. The big man took a moment to reach down and pet the nervous Siberian Husky that lay down between the men. “You’re a good boy, Jack.” Delmar looked at Thomas, who gazed toward the tunnel’s entrance. He gave Thomas a little shove on the shoulder. Thomas looked over at his friend and the outstretched hand. He took it. He saw the mist in Delmar’s eyes, reflecting the soft light—but Thomas didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded, and was glad that Delmar did the same. There wasn’t much to say now that hadn’t already been said—or was understood. Sorry for the mistakes? Sorry that we came here? Sorry that we didn’t make better decisions? Sorry for Steven, Jenny—Daniel? There was nothing more.

In the next few minutes…perhaps mere moments, words would becomes meaningless. They would either live or die. Only action was necessary now.

* * * * *

Deluth looked at Snow, who remained in the cockpit of the helicopter. Deluth instinctively ducked from the still rotating blades, though they barely moved now. “If you lose radio contact, then you are to fly out of here at your first opportunity after dawn.” He handed Snow a folded paper. “Contact the people at that number and tell them that
Deluth’s
team is down, and give them the coordinates. They will likely tell you to stay where you are, and will send a team out for you. Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant—they are no worse than me.” He smiled. “The same goes for if I tell you to get out of here now. If I come over that radio and tell you to get out...don’t hesitate. Get the hell out. Got it?”

Snow had been nodding the whole time. He stopped and looked into
Deluth’s
eyes. “Good luck, Captain. I’ll be right here waiting.”

“Keep your weapon ready…and about that. You have my permission to lift off if you are attacked. But don’t worry, Lieutenant. If it comes, it will come for us. Hopefully we will have the drop on the damned thing.”

Snow frowned, shivering at the idea of being attacked while waiting alone inside the helicopter.

Deluth stepped away, and Kaley walked over. He poked Snow in the shoulder and smiled. “Don’t be a hero, Lieutenant. You leave that to us. Just watch your six.”

Snow rubbed his arm. The damned guy could not resist poking, pushing, slapping. It was a bad habit. “I’ll do my best not to steal any glory.”

Kaley laughed and looked over to Huth and Sorret as he pointed his thumb at Snow. “This guy…can you believe him? He’s one of a kind.”

Huth frowned. “Indeed.”

Sorret chuckled then nodded at Snow as he moved his night vision goggles down to his eyes. “You be safe, Snow. Like the man said,
no heroics
.”

“Let’s go,” Deluth said, holding a hand out toward the forest. “Complete silence, radios off—you know the drill.”

With that, the men were gone, quickly disappearing into the forest ten meters from the helicopter. Snow shivered again.

* * * * *

The werewolf had freed himself from the tunnel and from the cavern and was once again outside—running through the forest.
His
forest.
His
mountain. The beast stopped and looked up into the sky. He had heard a loud noise, like a never-ending roar from far away—and he looked up to find it. He saw the thing up in the sky. It was undoubtedly making the loud noise, and though he did not know what it was, he understood that humans must be involved.

He crouched behind a huge boulder among the trees and watched as the loud thing stopped, high in the air some distance from him. He growled as the flying thing slowly descended into the trees and was gone. The werewolf looked at the tracks in the snow—the tracks he had been following since he emerged from the cavern. Though his need to find those humans was strong, so was the curiosity about the flying thing. His curiosity was peaked with the certainty that humans were with the thing. He looked in the direction of the flying thing. He could barely hear its noise now. He looked at the tracks. He huffed at the cold night air. The plethora of smells coming from the flying thing became the deciding factor. He would investigate it—and if humans were there, he would feast on their blood. The beast moved cautiously through the forest, seeking out the flying thing and the humans he knew were with it.

* * * * *

Deluth let Kaley lead as the men moved through the forest in a four-man wedge formation. Kaley was the best point man that Deluth had ever seen—the big man seemed to have feline-like senses. He could see better in the dark, hear better, detect movement better…and he could fight with weapons or with his hands as good or better than anyone.

The four men understood that they were the ones with the disadvantage, now. All their hopes for catching the beast while in human form were dashed, and regardless of the field of battle, be it in the middle of the town square or here in the thickly forested mountains, it was the beast who had the upper hand. Their military training and combat experience guided them now, as they moved silently closer to the coordinates of the thermal images—where Kaley had seen human forms moving in the night.

The wind had all but stopped, and the snowfall was thin and slow, but still a hindrance, as was the never-ending cold. They had moved more than three hundred meters without incident, but then Kaley held up a fist and then moved his arm in a downward motion. They all quickly took a knee and brought their weapons to the ready, looking down the barrels through their night vision goggles. Only Kaley moved without the high tech devices, keeping his ready, but folded upward on their frames attached to his headgear. The night vision completely negated peripheral vision—so, if Kaley could see at all, he utilized the goggles sparingly.

The men stayed on one knee, Deluth and Sorret turning to face the rear, swinging their sites east and west, while Kaley and Huth watched the front in the same manner. They did not speak. Kaley pulled down his goggles and peered into the forest. He had heard something a few moments earlier, of that he had no doubt. Something out there had tripped up and snapped a branch, and anything that could make that sound had the potential for being their beast.

He looked through the goggles but saw no movement. Silently, he counted to thirty. Still, he saw only snow, trees, and terrain through the green hue of the goggles. There was no movement. He sighed, silently allowing his breath to escape his burning lungs. Only then did he realize he had been holding his breath.

He made an almost inaudible chirping noise with his lips, and turned to see all three men slowly move back into position facing forward, but remaining on one knee. He pointed at Deluth, who quickly moved up to kneel next to Kaley.

“Something big is near us. It’s smart enough to hold still as we do, and that is sign enough for me to think it might be our beastie,” Kaley whispered. “I’m going to move up ten meters on my own, and take cover behind one of the trees. If there is no movement after, you move the rest of the team up, and we will move out. One minute. From what we know, the bastards are excellent hunters, but have no patience at all. If he is there, he will show.”

Deluth thought it over, and nodded. “Give me a sec to relay it to Huth and Sorret, then go ahead and move.” He grasped
Kaley’s
arm for a moment. “We will have your back, Kaley—but don’t take any chances. You know what I mean. No heroics. We have to do this together.”

“Roger that boss—but let’s get on with it.”

The beast peered at the men from behind the snow-covered roots of a fallen tree. He watched them with an intense hunger but also with a sense of prudence. These humans acted like hunters, making the hairs all over the beast’s body feel prickly with caution. He would take them, but he must not rush in blindly, as he could most often do when dealing with his human prey.