Matt Archer: Monster Hunter (Matt Archer #1) (22 page)

This was going to be the most amazing ride of my life.

Thirty minutes later, when I hurled for the second time, I
had to rethink the coolness of traveling at Mach speed.

“You need another bag?” the captain yelled over the
headphone’s speakers. “There might be one tucked into the gap between your seat
and the wall.”

“No,” I said. “Just try not to turn the plane upside down
again.”

“What, you mean like this?” The captain laughed as the
cockpit rolled over. “I thought a fifteen-year-old would think this was
awesome!”

I swallowed some puke, wishing I could die. “Until they rode
in one, sure. Now, please turn the plane right side up, sir!”

The captain rolled us back over. “Kidding aside, you don’t
sound so good. In the pocket on the back of my seat there’s an anti-nausea
pill; dissolves on the tongue and works fast. Little white blister-pack. It’ll
knock you out, which is why I didn’t offer it earlier, but at least you won’t
feel like your stomach’s coming out your nose.”

I found the six-pack of pills and poked one through the
safety pouch. It tasted like peppermint. My head stopped spinning immediately.
For a moment, I could appreciate the view. So much higher than a regular
airplane, the city lights were barely pinpricks in a dark blanket. The stars
above the canopy seemed closer, brighter.

They drifted closer, closer, until I thought I could grab
one.

I sit on the jungle floor. Blood on my hands. Green
blood. Red blood. Black dirt.

“Blood and light, bound by name.”

I jump up and turn. Nobody there.

“Kid, wake up, we’re landing,” the captain said over my
headphones. “You slept through the refueling…I was all set to show off.”

“Sorry, sir.” I rubbed my eyes and watched the ground speed
up to meet us.

The plane dropped onto the runway, the engines whining as
the pilot hit the brakes to slow us to taxi speed. The airport in Iquitos
wasn’t as small as I thought it’d be. It looked like Billings, actually, with a
regular terminal and gates. The sun peeked from the edge of the horizon as the
captain taxied the plane into a hangar across from the main airport building.

“Someone’s going to meet you here and drive you to the helipad,”
the captain said. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah. The pill helped. Good to get some sleep, too.” I
unbuckled the harness and stretched, wondering if I’d ever get the strap marks
off my shoulders.

The captain popped the canopy open. “All right, end of the
line. Everybody out.”

A U.S. serviceman in Army BDUs hooked a ladder against the
plane’s side. I unfolded my knees and stood up slowly. All my joints creaked or
popped. Seriously considering kissing the ground, I climbed down the ladder
then planted my feet on the hangar floor in relief.

“You’re with me, kid,” someone barked in a stern baritone.

The voice belonged to a master sergeant standing by a small
green jeep at the front of the hanger. He was wiry, with sandy blond hair in
the typical “high-and-tight” haircut. I headed his way. He gave me a long
stare, wrinkling his nose as I approached. Granted, I had puked a couple of
times, but I couldn’t have smelled that bad.

“Hey, you forgot this,” the pilot called, holding up my
backpack.

I ran over and took it from him, grateful he’d seen it
before leaving. “Thanks for the ride, sir.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “I mean that—don’t, to anyone.”

With a brisk nod, he jogged off toward the corner of the
hangar. I grinned at his back. No matter what the captain said, I was telling
Will and Ella. I returned to my guide—his name patch said “Murphy.” He squinted
down at me like I was an annoying rug-rat.

Deciding military attitude would be the best way to play
him, I said, “Archer reporting for duty, Master Sergeant.”

He chuckled in a sarcastic way. “Some soldier the colonel
sent us. A kid.” Without even looking back at me, he stomped to the jeep and
climbed into the driver’s seat. “Well,
Private
, you have five minutes to do
whatever you need to do before I start this vehicle and drive off. Helo’s
waiting.”

I lit out for the bathroom, muttering, “What a jackwagon.”

* * *

We flew over dense jungle for about an hour before coming up
on a makeshift landing zone consisting of flat, bare ground. We’d hardly jumped
clear before the pilots took off again. They were going back to Iquitos to meet
Johnson and pick up supplies the team needed right away, stuff that couldn’t
wait to be trucked in. The air was thick and muggy, smelling of mulch and
plants and, weirdly, parts of the zoo back home. A rich, earthy, animal
stench…like the hippopotamus enclosure. The humidity was so bad that my flight
suit stuck to my body in nine different places within a minute of landing.

“When will Lieutenant Johnson be here?” I shouted to Murphy
over the sound of the beating rotors.

“Probably not until late tomorrow. The lieutenant hasn’t
left yet and his flight is closer to twenty hours. You got the special
treatment.”

The offended note in Murphy’s voice carried through loud and
clear. I stopped hiking behind him, the helicopter now a distant hum, drowned
out by the sound of the wind in the vines and shouts from camp somewhere
nearby. Adults were supposed to act more...adult. Especially Green Berets. I
didn’t get why he was so annoyed with me. Danger or not, I didn’t leave the
lock-in—and Ella—to deal with this kind of attitude.

“Master Sergeant, do you have a problem with me?”

“Yes, I have a problem. People are dying out here, and they
send us the kid instead of Parker or Brandt.” Murphy turned. “What are you
going to do with a Gator? Even with a knife? These abominations have killed six
of our men in the last year. They literally eat kids like you for breakfast. We
needed another wielder, someone with more experience.” His face turned red;
this dude was seriously put out. Murphy reached for my arm and gave it a firm
tug. “How much do you weigh? A buck-thirty? Strong wind could pick you up.”

Before I could snap back, a hard voice growled, “That’s
enough, Master Sergeant.”

Murphy hid his scowl as the man stepped forward. He was
tall, muscular, with rich brown skin and very dark, close-shaved hair. An
officer, too, that much I could tell. I snapped to attention, ignoring Murphy’s
snort. The officer’s eyes cut to one side and Murphy shut it.

“Master Sergeant, this young man is exactly who we need, so
quit questioning the colonel’s orders. And from now on, you call him Mr.
Archer, not kid,” he said. “Get your sorry butt back to camp We’re taking off
in ten hours. Go sleep.”

As the master sergeant stalked off, the man motioned for me
to be at ease. I dropped my hand, saying, “Sorry about that, sir. I’m a little
tired myself.”

“No doubt, Archer. You look like you had a rough ride. Let’s
get you a bunk. I’m Major Ramirez, by the way. It’s good to meet you, finally.”
He cast a weary look at Murphy hacking his way through the jungle ahead of us.
“We’ve been down here too long. If we have some luck, maybe we’ll finish this
campaign in the next few days, finally go home. The others don’t get it, what a
burden the knife can be. I know for a fact that you do. Major Tannen said as
much in his last email.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, feeling a lump in my throat at the
mention of Uncle Mike. Both of us were pretty far from home. “I’ll do whatever
I can, Major. Just point me at some Gators.”

Ramirez stopped and gave me a long look. “Hooah, Archer.”

I followed Major Ramirez up a very narrow trail between
dense trees, vines, flowers and every other kind of dark green plant
imaginable. The zoo-like smell only intensified as the sun tracked higher into
the sky, baking the dirt until it steamed. I could see why Ramirez’s team was
tired. This would be a tough place to live if you weren’t accustomed to it.

We broke into a small camp consisting of six largish, green
canvas tents, a fire pit with logs around it, and a few Humvees. Cozy. The cot
in my tent was hard as a board, and only six inches off the floor, but it felt
like a feather mattress to my aching body.

I yanked off my boots, then shrugged out of my flight suit.
It was so humid I decided to sleep in my t-shirt and underwear. This team
didn’t seem like the type to mind. How strange that less than twelve hours ago,
I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, hiking boots and jeans, and still needed a
jacket outside. I stretched out on the bunk with a scratchy Army blanket over
my legs, conking out as soon as I was horizontal.

“Hurry.”

The
ground is black, burned. I’m covered in soot. Black ash all around me.

“Faster.
No time. Children are dying.”

The
screams of little girls echo in my head.

I jumped awake. “No!”

The flap of the tent flew open and Ramirez peered in,
looking worried. I pulled the blanket up a little higher.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Just a nightmare,” I said, feeling really stupid for
shouting.

“It happens…especially out here,” Ramirez said, his face
full of understanding. “Archer…” He paused, looking like he really wanted to
tell me something, but didn’t at the same time. “I have them, too.”

“Nightmares?” I asked, wondering why he was acting so cagey.
Didn’t everyone have them?

He shook his head a fraction. “Someone’s talking to us.
Telling us to hurry. Devastation…that kind of stuff.”

Shocked, I forgot to breathe for a second. “Kids dying.
Blood.”

“Not nightmares. Visions.” Ramirez stared at the ceiling of
the tent. “There are some BDUs in the trunk at the back of the tent that ought
to fit you. Meet me in the command center in fifteen.”

Visions. Not that my life could get any more bizarre, but
still.

I dressed quickly, making sure to tuck the ends of my
jungle-print pants into my hiking boots and tying the laces around them to keep
bugs and water out. The clean t-shirt felt good against my hot skin. After one
last, long stretch, I grabbed a camo jacket and headed to the HQ tent, trying
to forget the sound of those little girls screaming.

Ramirez sat at a metal table, poring over a large map. Two
laptops screens glowed on either side of him. In their light, his face had a
white-blue tinge. The tent was open all along one wall, probably in an attempt
to catch what little breeze there was. The jungle felt like the inside of a
clothes dryer—damp and hot, just without the fan.

I stood at attention just outside the tent until the major
called me at ease. He rolled the map up and beckoned for me to sit. “Tell me,
what do you know about the broader mission for the knife-wielders?”

Feeling put on the spot, I said, “There’s some prophecy
about it all.” I paused. “We’re sort of at war with the devil, or something.”

“Not sort of. We
are
at war,” Ramirez said, his eyes boring into mine. “With
evil incarnate.”

As if I wasn’t freaked out enough.

Ramirez must have noticed, because he broke his stare.
“Jorge says these strange dreams are visions of things that are coming. My
nightmares have gotten pretty awful here recently. Yours?”

“They’re getting weirder, that’s for sure.” The skin on my
arms prickled. “The monsters are just the beginning then, aren’t they?”

“That’s my gut feeling.”

A silence followed as I swallowed the basketball sized lump
in my throat. “So, what happens after we finish off the monsters, Major? New,
scarier monsters? Demons?” I laughed nervously. “Vampire bunny rabbits?”

Ramirez pressed his lips together, staring over my shoulder.
“I don’t know.”

I thought about something Grandma Tannen always said: “Don’t
worry about tomorrow when today is smacking you in the face.” It was such a
wacky saying that it stuck in my head. Now, I understood what it meant.
And
realized Grandma
had been a badass.

“Then I’ll just focus on the monsters we’ve got, rather than
wondering about what’s coming next,” I said.

The major’s eyes flicked back to me. “Good point, Archer.
With that in mind, you ready to hunt some lizards? Colonel said you got a
briefing about the Gators at Fort Carson a few months back.”

“Yeah, I saw a picture. Nine or ten feet long from head to
toes, and the tail adds another four feet. Kinda a cross between a crocodile
and an iguana—long snout and tail, scales, talons on their feet, spikes on
their head and back.” I shuddered. “And their blood is green.”

Ramirez nodded. “They’re also sneaky and fast. It’s been
really hard to catch them lately. They seem to get more intelligent by the day,
so you need to be on your guard at all times.”

Had hunting the Bears posed enough of a challenge to prepare
me for the Gators? I wasn’t so sure.

“Let’s spend some time on hunting techniques. We’re down to
the last twelve, if my count’s right. If we go after the Gators hard, I think
we can finish them off while you’re here.” Ramirez laid his knife on the table.
It wasn’t quite identical to mine. The blade looked the same—nine-inches and
bronze-colored—but the white bone handle on his was longer, and etched with
strange symbols that had been filled in with black enamel. My own knife hummed
in my thigh pocket. I brought it out and laid it next to his. Both handles
glowed blue, then sparks popped off the blade of my knife.

“Archer, how did you do that?” My head snapped up. Ramirez
was staring at me instead of the knives.

“I didn’t do anything—the knives are doing it, I think.” In
a blink, both blades went dark, sitting cold and still on the tabletop.

Ramirez shook his head. “I’ve never seen mine react when I
wasn’t touching it.”