No Such Thing As Werewolves (13 page)

It had to be eight feet tall. Its frame was heavily muscled and thick with dark fur. An alarming mix of wolf and man shaped its head, adorned with an elongated snout but clearly human eyes. A word existed to describe such a creature, but her mind refused to allow it. This wasn’t a movie.
 

The creature picked up the headlamp, examining it with terrible purpose. It seemed puzzled by the light, shining it up and down the hallway. The beam splashed within a few inches of Sheila’s right foot. She shrank in on herself, becoming a part of the wall. Lack of oxygen was making her lightheaded, but she didn’t dare breathe.
 

The beast stared in her direction, scanning the darkness, searching. Its grey fur made it eerily similar to the Egyptian god Wepwawet Blair had mentioned, the wolf-headed warrior son of Anubis. But this was far, far more terrifying than any hieroglyph or statue. The blood and gore slicking its neck and chest gave voice to that fact.
 

The audible click of the headlamp’s switch being flipped ushered the hallway into sudden darkness. Heavy breathing broke the silence, broken by a few huffs as the creature sought a scent—her scent. How much longer could she hold her breath?
 

Chapter 15- The Beast

The beast stirred from the sleep of ages, reborn into a time far removed from its own. It rose gracefully on powerful legs, uncurling fur-covered limbs corded with muscle. Clawed fingers flexed experimentally as it tested its new body. This vessel was suffused with power, far more than it should have contained this early in the cycle. That could only mean that its host had lingered near a source.

The beast was aware of the host’s consciousness, fluttering like a trapped bird. It would grow stronger with time, but for now the beast's control was total. It had the freedom to accomplish the tasks for which it had been created, uninterrupted by whatever morals or confusion its host might be afflicted with.

A careful survey of its surroundings revealed the Mother’s rejuvenation chamber. It was in many ways the very heart of the Ark. Her slumbering form was still shielded by the rejuvenator, which emitted wave after wave of energy from the array of gems scattered across its surface. The beast basked in their glow for several minutes, filling its reserves until its fur nearly glowed. It had no idea how abundant such energy would be outside the Ark, so every scrap could be vital.

The beast raised its muzzle, drinking in a dozen interwoven scents through wet black nostrils. Unblooded had been here recently, perhaps a half dozen in total. One scent overpowered the others, thick and pungent. It was masculine but sickly. That would make sense if the fool had been in the antechamber for any length of time. The energy here was many times more intense than the trickle provided by the moon. An unblooded would die in a matter of weeks from prolonged exposure.

The beast stalked through the doorway into the much larger antechamber, padding silently past the dormant obelisks despite its incredible size. Such grace came naturally, a gift from its creator. The room was cloaked in shadow, but the beast's keen vision spotted a huddled form in the far corner. This wretch was the source of the stench. The fool’s hands and feet were bound. Had it been left as a sacrifice? That seemed unlikely. The beast flexed both hands. It unlimbered claws that itched to rend.

“Blair?” a scratchy voice called. The beast plucked the word from the sheaf of memories fluttering through its host’s imprisoned consciousness. The word was significant. It was the host’s name. Perhaps the limp form was a friend or colleague of the host. Not that it mattered. The pathetic mortal was in the final throws of energy sickness, mere hours from an agonizing death. “Is t-that you? Have you seen the inner chamber? It’s wonderful. The Mother, she’s beautiful…so beautiful. We must wake her…”

The beast rose to its full height, looming over the pitiful wretch. The man’s gaze cleared like the sky after a storm as he twisted in his bonds to stare up at the instrument of his execution. In a moment of lucidity, he seemed to realize exactly what he was looking at. The light of understanding filled his gaze.

“Champion,” he whispered, wiggling into a prostrated position. He pressed his forehead to the cool marble floor. “I am ready for the sacrifice. Judge me.”

Interesting. The beast had not expected any supplicants. How was such a thing possible? It considered for long moments, squatting next to the sacrifice. If this poor fool had lingered near the Mother for any length of time, her mind could have imparted memories. She was that strong. That must be it.
 

It was a pity there weren’t more like him, but the beast hadn’t expected there to be. That would have been far too easy. No, he would have to hunt them. He would find their villages even if they were buried in the heart of the jungles choking much of this continent. Then he would blaze through them in a raging inferno. They would resist, of course, but that would merely hone long-dormant skills in preparation for the true battle.

The beast seized the man by the neck, claws sinking into his soft flesh. Hot, coppery blood rained to the floor as he hefted the supplicant. The beast’s mouth filled with saliva. It hungered. The man let out an ear-piercing shriek that echoed through the chamber. Apparently, his faith was a flimsy thing in the face of pain.
 

The beast lunged for the man’s throat, ending the tortured shriek. It bathed in the sweet, tangy blood as it tore loose head and spine. The limp form slumped to the ground, blessedly silent. The beast let out a low howl of victory, reveling in the coming slaughter. Then it fed for the first time.

Chapter 16- It’s Back

“Commander,” Yuri panted, skidding up to the pavilion in a shower of dust. His chest heaved under his bulky black Kevlar vest, but he didn’t let that delay his report. “Yuri disobeyed orders. Allowed Sheila and Bridget to enter pyramid.”

“You let them in?” Jordan growled, rising from his perch on the edge of a large black crate. He set his tablet down, forgetting a half-written message to the Director. “You had strict orders. No one inside without my direct authorization.”

“Is true, but Yuri ordered not to use force against noncoms. Women go inside unless Yuri stop. Besides, they wish to retrieve Smith. What they do is right. Smith deserves burial,” Yuri said, snapping to attention. He wasn’t offering excuses, just reporting the facts. He knew he’d be punished, but he reported his own crime anyway. The man had such an odd sense of honor.

Jordan would probably be forced to mete out something unpleasant since a direct order had been disobeyed. That would come later. For now he had to recover those women. “How long ago?”

“Four minutes, twenty-four seconds,” Yuri answered. His breathing had eased, but his pale face was slick with sweat.

Jordan considered the best tactical response. They had no idea how Smith had died or what potential risks had been unleashed. He didn’t believe in curses, but he did worry about a virus or disease that modern humans had no resistance to. It was unlikely, but if he were wrong, the cost could be more lives than he’d be able to overcome losing and still sleep at night.
 

Going back in presented the significant risk of spreading a contagion. Should he write the women off? He stowed the human drive to protect, forcing himself to consider only logic. They were experts in their field, and that made them the best chance of learning more about this place. Losing such skilled assets would be painful, but replacements could be found.
 

“Commander, what’s going on?” Alejandro asked from his tense perch in one of the folding chairs at the neighboring pavilion.
 

“Sheila and Bridget went back inside the structure,” he admitted. No sense hiding the facts. “We’re going to quarantine them there. No one else will be allowed to enter or exit until Mohn’s science team arrives.”

“And how long will that be?” Doctor Roberts demanded. He rose from the chair next to Alejandro’s, crossing to Jordan’s pavilion like he was spoiling for a fight.
 

“I’m going to guess tomorrow afternoon sometime. They’ll arrive by chopper. It will be a team with hazmat suits to scan every inch of that chamber. A field lab will be constructed on-site, and they’ll begin processing data within hours,” Jordan replied, rising and taking a single step toward Roberts. He loomed over the stubborn geologist, but the man didn’t seem deterred.

“How many of us will be dead by then? We don’t even know what killed Blair…or what’s going on with Bridget and Sheila. We should be sending your men and their guns down to find them, not sitting here waiting for them to die.” He met Jordan’s gaze.
 

The commander had seen this sort of defiance before. It wasn’t going to be quieted short of violence, but he had to try.

“Heeeeelp!” A woman’s shriek echoed through the ravine. Bridget. Jordan spun to face the pyramid. There was only one thing he knew of that could evoke that kind of terror. That
thing
had come back, or there was another one in the pyramid.
 

“Yuri, get the men set up with the heavy ordnance. I want the western side of the pyramid under lockdown. If it isn’t our girls, and it moves, I want it dead,” he ordered. Yuri snapped a salute, sprinting off toward the soldiers’ camp.

Jordan crossed the pavilion to a long black case he’d hoped that he wouldn’t have to open. He knelt, using his thumb on the scanner set into the front of the black plastic. It snapped open, rising of its own accord. He reached for the pieces within, assembling the rifle he’d acquired in Panama with practiced ease. Assembly took only moments, but Jordan an eternity had passed before he slipped the strap over his shoulder and slammed the clip home.

The sniper rifle had been modeled after an old-school Barrette, but it was newer, sleeker, and—most importantly—it was automatic. It was far larger than the modified M4s the rest of the squad would be using. That made it worthless at close range, but it might let him get the drop on this thing.

“What about us, Commander?” Roberts asked. Some of the fire had gone out of him, but his stance was defiant.

“You and Alejandro head east. Get at least a hundred yards from camp and hide in the boulders,” he ordered, pulling his sidearm from its holster. He offered it grip first to Alejandro. “Take this. It’s a .457 so you’ll need to hold it with both hands when you fire it. All you have to do is flip the safety, point, and pull the trigger. Can you do that?”

“I can do that.” Alejandro nodded, taking the pistol gingerly in both hands. “It’s heavy.”

“Doctor Roberts…” Jordan said, reaching for the 9mm he kept tucked into his boot.
 

“I’ve never fired a gun in my life, and I’m not about to start now. She could simply have encountered a spider for all we know. You’re overreacting,” he replied, crossing his arms and leaning against a crate.

A low, deep howl echoed from the depths of the pyramid and up the ravine. It was otherworldly. Terrifying. Jordan had heard something similar in Alaska, but this was deeper and more primal.
 

“Run. Now!” he barked, giving Roberts a little shove. The man rounded on him, about to protest. Jordan cut him off. “Didn’t you fucking hear me? Move. Fucking MOVE.”

Alejandro was already in motion, eating up ground like a rabbit fleeing a fox. Dr. Roberts watched him go, and then turned and lumbered into a run as well. That was the best Jordan could do for them right now. His priority was downing that werewolf. More than just their lives could depend on it.

Jordan cradled the heavy rifle, sprinting into the dusk. The moon hadn’t risen yet, but he could already make out the faint glow on the horizon. He hoped it wouldn’t make the thing stronger. He circled wide around the structure’s southern face. Going this way would take longer, but he didn’t want to risk getting close. He’d seen how quickly that thing could move, and if it got the drop on him, he was done. That meant more than his life. If his team couldn’t bring the beast down, the thing could kill with impunity. The village of Villa Milagros was just a few miles north.

“Deploying now, Commander,” Yuri’s voice crackled over the com. “In position, forty seconds.”

Bridget’s petite form burst from the darkness just as Jordan rounded the southwest corner. She staggered forward a few paces, and then her ankle folded and she spilled into a dirt mound. She tried to struggle to her feet but wasn’t making any real progress. Exhausted from her flight out of the pyramid, she was helpless.
 

Jordan’s training took over. He dropped to one knee and set the rifle’s stock against his shoulder. He sighted down the scope, hoping Mohn’s toy had a way to track the werewolf. Night vision revealed nothing. The shot was going to be hard at this range. He wished he had another hundred yards between him and the target, but he’d just have to trust his reflexes.

“Come on, you bastard,” he muttered, conscious of Bridget’s flailing as she sought to regain her feet. He considered the options for a split second, weighing her usefulness as bait against the risk to an entire village. He didn’t have a choice. She was expendable.
 

Something large blurred into the scope’s field of view and then out again before he could squeeze the trigger. The creature was just too fast. His scope didn’t catch up to the beast until it paused, looming over Bridget’s cowering form like some avenging god. He didn’t waste time wondering what it was. The creature had a discernible anatomy. That was a head. He bet it needed that.