Matt Archer: Redemption (17 page)

I shoved that thought to the back of my head. After the last month, my own stupid frustrations meant very little. I needed to focus on the important stuff: saving lives, killing monsters, finding a shaman with all the answers.

Still, it was kind of hard to forget my dad when he was the one out hunting for the shaman. I’d have to deal with him one way or another on this trip.

After a quick bite at the airport, we caught our flight to Chengdu, a major city in Sichuan province. I hadn’t realized how huge China was, but it was bigger than the United States, and bordered fourteen countries. A lot of ground to cover. I hoped Will had some leads or this could become a slog really fast.

Once we landed in Chengdu, my team shuffled off the plane and I tried to get my bearings. The airport was teeming with people and I heard conversations in nine different languages at once. By the time we made it out to the curbside pickup area, my head ached from the constant barrage.

“Sir?” Lanningham said to Johnson. “Are those your new men?”

I tracked where he was pointing and spotted two shiny new sergeants standing next to two shiny new Range Rovers. As soon as they caught us looking, both snapped to attention.

“Blakeney?” I said. “I think we can safely say you are no longer the greenest green bean in this outfit.”

“I think the last of my green wore off in … ” Blakeney frowned. “Uh, what was the one with the wolf men? Austria?”

“Sounds about right.” I glanced at the newbies. Their dog tags flashed bright in the sun and I tucked my battered pair inside my jacket. “Those two make
me
feel old.”

“Play nice,” Johnson said. “I picked them myself. They’re good men.”

I didn’t doubt that, but running new teammates, especially a couple with limited combat experience, always made me nervous. Will quietly called them “redshirts” because they didn’t have good life expectancy. I couldn’t even joke about it; if they didn’t make it, that would only add to the death tally I was responsible for.

We gathered up our gear and jogged to the waiting vehicles. The Range Rovers were nice and more comfortable than a Humvee. Lanningham, Blakeney and I rode in one, while Johnson, the equipment and extra supplies rode in the other.

Our driver, Jamison, was the size of a wide receiver with quick gestures, a brown flattop and habit of tacking “sir” onto everything he said—even to me and Blakeney.

“The country is pretty nice, sir,” he chattered as we fought traffic. “Really green and stuff. Mr. Cruessan has us canvassing small villages out there. People have been nice so far.”

“Anybody speak the local dialects?” Lanningham asked.

Jamison rattled off a long sentence in what sounded like Chinese, then laughed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said. “So, um, any word from Officer Archer?”

“Our spook?”

Blakeney glared at the back of Jamison’s headrest. “Our CIA liaison and Archer’s father. Better not hear you call him spook again, understand?”

The tips of Jamison’s ears turned red. “Sorry, sir.”

I was tempted to tell him to stop calling us sir because Blakeney and I weren’t officers—we worked for a living. But that made me think of Davis, which made me think of how far from home I was. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve called him worse. To his face, even.”

Everyone laughed uncomfortably. I needed to rein it in and act like a professional for a while. “Has he turned up any intel? He was searching for someone for us.”

“Sir, yes sir. He came out last week, stayed a few days, then disappeared again. We haven’t seen him since.” We stopped at a light and Jamison met my eye in the rearview mirror. “Oh! Mr. Archer, sir? Mr. Cruessan told me to have you call him. They have cell coverage out there, believe it or not.”

I pulled out my phone, eyebrow raised. We were going deep into mountainous rainforest, and they had cell towers? Interesting. “How long is our drive?”

“About three hours, sir.”

“Well, then I have plenty of time to chit chat,” I muttered, dialing Will’s number.

It rang six times before Will answered with, “Asshat!”

“What did I do to deserve that?”

“I missed you, that’s all.” He laughed. “We’ve already bagged seven Pandas.”

“Only seven?”

“Yeah. They’re spread out all over, so we’ve had to track them.” He paused. “Why?”

I leaned my head against the window, letting the glass cool my throbbing head. “Over the last eighteen days, Jorge and I’ve put down sixty-five, um, assorted.”

“If this is a contest, you should know the freak show in Taipei counted as twenty-six.”

“That does make me feel better.”

He snorted. “Bastard.”

“Whatever. We’re on our way in. Any news from my old man?”

“A little. He found someone who knows someone who heard someone say there’s a holy man searching for ‘the archer.’ He thinks the guy meant Archer with a capital ‘A’ so he’s on the trail.”

Lots of hard-to-connect dots in that sentence. “Okay. Maybe he’ll turn up again soon.”

“Well, he knows you’re coming, so I expect him tonight,” he said. “I meant to tell you I’m really sorry about Dorland.”

I looked at the ragged, burned-out remnants of my team, and a tightness spread through my chest. “Me, too.”

“See you later. I have a lovely meatloaf MRE waiting for you, since you like it so much.”

Now it was my turn to say, “Asshat.”

* * *

The camp was nestled at the edge of foothills lush with bamboo and other plants, but mountains rose tall and forbidding in the distance. Wild pandas roamed there, and lately, so had unnatural ones. Sichuan province was heavily populated in the cities, so our job was to keep the monsters up here rather than rampaging through every village within, well, rampaging distance.

Four tents, a utility Jeep, another Range Rover, and a stockpile of crates made a barrier around an open space cleared of vegetation. A fire burned there, lighting up the swiftly falling dusk. Jamison had told us that this was just base camp. If we got enough hits higher up in the mountains, we’d move.

“We have a helicopter to help move up there?” I’d asked. “Because that would be a hell of a climb.”

“If we need one, I’ll make sure the captain gets one,” Lanningham had said.

We climbed out of the Range Rovers, me praying that I’d have time for a good, long run in the morning. If I didn’t move soon, I thought my knees might go Tin Man-stiff permanently.

Will popped out of the first tent and loped over to punch me square in the bicep.

“Ow, dickhead. What was that for?”

He grinned. “I felt like it.”

Ah, he was lonely. That made sense. The only guy on his team other than Captain Johnson that he knew at all was Lieutenant Nguyen, who was cool, but not very chatty. He preferred leading morning calisthenics to hanging out or exchanging stories. It must’ve been rough for Will, hunting on his own and coming back to an unfamiliar camp.

“So, how’s the new crew?” I asked.

“Pretty good. Still a little skittish around monsters, but I’m breaking them of that quick.”

After barking a few orders to Will’s team, Johnson strode over and looked Will over. “Still in one piece. Good. I was hoping.”

“He was hoping,” Will said, rolling his eyes.

“We’re beat,” I said. “Let me sleep a few hours, then you can tell me what to expect.”

He nodded and pointed at the tent across the way from his. As a rule, we couldn’t bunk in the same place—we had to keep the wielders separated as a safeguard in case we were attacked.

Five minutes later, I was crashed out on a hard cot. I didn’t even take my boots off.

“It’s hard to remember much about him,
”
a woman with dark red hair says. “It’s been a long time.”

“Since he died,” another woman says.

“Yes.”

The women sit on a couch in a hotel lobby, drinking coffee, and have their backs to me. They don’t notice I’m there, but something about the first woman’s voice is familiar, so I creep forward.

As soon as I’m even with the couch, the woman turns and all I see is a flash of green eyes before the world goes pitch dark.

“Matt!” Mamie screams.

Hot breath rasps against the back of my neck and another voice I recognize, a voice made of shadow and hate, whispers in my ear, “You won’t even be a memory to her. I’ll take it all and there won’t be anything left.”

I startled awake, the scratchy army blanket clutched tight in my fists. My heart slammed against my ribcage and I felt like throwing up. The woman …

Oh, God. The woman had been Ella.

Are you all right?
Tink asked.
Your nervous system is firing across the board and it’s making me a little twitchy.

“Fine,” I muttered, balling up my pillow and rolling over to try to get comfortable again.

Your dreams are getting worse.
I can’t see them, but I can sense how upset you are. Want to tell me about it?

“Not really.” I sighed. “It’s like we’re holding back a tide and pretty soon there won’t be enough of us to keep the world from being overwhelmed. What if we fail?”

“Don’t give up now. Stay strong a little while longer. You have a long way to go, and it doesn’t end in the rainforest.

I shuddered. I’d thought those exact words in Peru, but hadn’t ever said them out loud. How did she know? Or had I voiced some thought of hers back then without knowing it? “What do I do until then? Until the Dark army comes?”

You find who you seek. The one I said would come. Even now, he searches for you, as your father hunts for him. Hold on until you find him, because this man might have the answers to help you find what you need most.

“Which is?”

Hope.

Hope. A fragile thing in the face of so much death. But if I knew anything, I knew my hope wasn’t tied to my own survival, but to Ella’s, Will’s, my family’s. And that’s where I’d find the strength to go on.

“Thank you.”

Yes, well, don’t get used to me being nice. I’ll still pop you in the head if you sass me too much.

“Good. I don’t think I’d like it if you went soft on me.”

Never. Now, sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day.

 I did what she said, and this time, I didn’t dream.

Chapter Twenty

Having slept most of the night away, I woke up early. My watch said four in the morning. My body said it was eight p.m. Knowing it was useless to try to sleep anymore, I rolled off my cot, stretched and crept outside. Lanningham and Blakeney were out cold and didn’t even stir as I opened the tent flap and let a stiff breeze in.

After finding the latrine, I stoked up the fire and ate an MRE of oatmeal, sausage and canned pears, which I supplemented with a protein bar. The protein bar tasted better.

Footsteps outside the firelight caught my attention and Will came over to sit with me, MRE in hand. Except for Jamison, who’d drawn the short straw for o-dark-thirty watch, the camp was quiet. I let Will eat in peace, enjoying the warmth of the fire on a cold morning. A new moon set over the horizon, leaving only the stars for light.

“It’s November and we’re halfway up a mountain range,” I said. “You happen to have any GORE-TEX my team can use?”

He nodded. “Kelly—the guy who drove the captain yesterday—trucked in a bunch of cold-weather gear for you. I’m hoping we’re not still here in December or January, but we’re covered either way.”

“Weird, isn’t it, having everything we need?”

“Yeah. I thought about asking for something ridiculous like Twinkies, just to see if we’d get them, but why test a good thing?”

I shifted, stretching my legs out in front of me. My boots were showing serious signs of wear. Trips through abandoned subway tunnels, sewers and across roofs took their toll. Maybe instead of GORE-TEX, I should go more basic for my next shopping list.

I was about to ask what Will had planned for us today when a low growl sounded in the trees. Tink perked up, which wasn’t a good sign. “That anything we need to be concerned about?”

Will stood, head cocked to listen. “Don’t know. The Pandas don’t growl.”

Another growl answered the first, this one on the other side of camp. I pointed at my chest, then to the trees. Will nodded and drifted out of the firelight to crouch next to one of the tents.

Moving slowly, walking heel to toe like Schmitz had taught me all those years ago, I crept toward the first growl, ever mindful that its friend probably could see me. As I came closer to the trees, the growl sounded to my left.

I drew even with where I thought it would be hiding and a mass flew from the trees with a shriek, showering me with leaves. At first glance, I thought it might be a monkey—there were primates in this part of China.

Then it bit my leg.

I kicked, trying to free myself, but the thing wouldn’t let go. Its teeth were sunk deep into my calf and white spots of pain scattered across my field of vision. Through it, Tink’s rising anger began spinning me up, but that would take too much time, so I swiped at the creature with my knife and it finally let go.

Blood trickled down my leg in four places, but I didn’t have a chance to wrap anything around the wound before the trees started thrashing and a dozen shadows came my way.

“Will! Get out here!”

“Right behind you.”

Camp had woken up, too, and Jamison appeared out of nowhere, holding his rifle at the ready.

The creatures stopped twenty feet short of the tree line. Their eyes glowed a faint red, making it easy to pick them out—and disturbing as hell.

“What are they?” Jamison asked in a raspy whisper. His hands shook on his rifle.

I reached into my pocket slowly, hoping our guests didn’t see it as an act of aggression, and pulled out a small LED flashlight. Nodding to Will, I said, “See, I haven’t lost it yet.”

“That’s the whole reason you’re still alive,” Will said. “That flashlight and the St. Christopher medal Ella gave you.”