Black Mountain (38 page)

He pulled the mask free, and recoiled. Pustules crusted the man’s tormented flesh; black-rimmed ulcers exposed the bone of his skull. Alex smelled antiseptic and realised that the ski mask wasn’t just to keep the cold out or hide the man’s identity; it was a medicinal bandage.

The man screamed and went berserk in Alex’s grasp. His fury escalated his strength and he picked Alex up and threw him ten feet across the valley floor. As soon as Alex landed, another zipper of bullets raced towards him, fired by the soldier still wearing his mask.

Immediately, the barrage was answered by return fire, causing the white figure to leap back into cover. Hammerson was making good use of the weapon Alex had thrown him.

The unmasked soldier came at Alex like a charging bull, head down, arms spread wide. The collision threw them both down into the snow. Alex tried to hang onto the berserker and hold him down. He could see that his eyes were red-rimmed and furious.

‘Stop and listen to me!’ he yelled.

The man was literally frothing at the mouth, and some of the deep cankers on his face had erupted, dripping black, infected blood onto the snow. Alex could feel the heat coming off his body – it was way beyond normal, even way beyond Alex’s own overheated metabolism. The soldier punched, clawed and raked at him, his mouth spitting words and sounds that didn’t make sense. Alex struggled to hold him down.

They rolled together across the ground, crashing into the cliff face and dislodging rocks that bounced down and buried themselves in the snow around them. A piece of granite the size of a loaf of bread landed near Alex’s head, and he quickly reached into the snow to seize it. He smashed it into the man’s skull and a crackling crunch told him he had caved in the bone.

The man immediately fell still. Alex released him and pressed his fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse, but his flesh was too hot to touch for long. The snow around him started to melt, then the white suit he wore began to steam and smoke. Alex backed away, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He reached out to touch the blistered face; a gesture of comfort for whatever hell the man had been subjected to in the name of science. He wished he could have talked to him, discussed their similarities, shared the mutual pain of their situation. It was clear to Alex that the man had suffered the rages that sometimes consumed
him
. He had been learning to control his fury, but this man’s demons had broken free – and eventually killed him.

Is this how I’ll end up
, he thought,
consumed and destroyed by rage?

Was this his own future playing out before him like some ghastly movie?

As Alex watched, the disfigured face collapsed in on itself, the flesh liquefying and bubbling in the cavity of the skull. He cried out in horror, and scooped snow over the putrefying mass that had been a man only minutes before.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Adira drew in cold air and then blew it out in huge smoking plumes. She had vomited onto the snow from exhaustion a few minutes ago, but still continued to push herself up the slope. She grabbed another handful of snow and held it to her battered face. She had taken a blade to her eye, slicing the outer corner away from the palpebrae muscle to release the enormous build-up of blood that was forcing the eyelid down over the eyeball. The viscous fluid had run hot and fast, and her eye was now open enough for her to see, but she dreaded another blow.

The sound of gunfire drew her on with as much urgency as her fatigued muscles would allow, anxiety fuelling her desperation. She had invested so much in Alex Hunter; the idea of bringing him this far, only to lose him to some mad personal vendetta was too much to contemplate. More gunfire came, and she jerked her head up to stare into the darkness. If anyone put a bullet in Alex, she would destroy whoever was responsible or had been involved in the event.

She cursed and punched both of her thighs as hard as she could, the pain bringing a small jolt of adrenaline into the rubbery muscles. Through pain-gritted teeth, she clambered up the steep slope, at times having to drop to all fours to keep going.

At the edge of a small slip valley, she crouched against a tree, breathing heavily but doing her best to remain silent. Blows and grunts from below drew her eyes to the bottom of the ravine, where a number of large men were fighting viciously – Alex among them, and also Jack Hammerson. She couldn’t make out their opponents –
more Mossad agents?

She kneeled up to look closer, then immediately hunkered back down as she saw two figures huddled beside a tree trunk a short distance away. She wormed her way forward, staying low, and drew her weapon. In another moment she was behind them, wrapping a hand around the woman’s mouth and aiming the gun into the young man’s startled face as he turned.

He dropped his gun, and held up his hands. ‘Don’t shoot.’

Adira released the woman, who immediately huddled closer to the man. She saw shock and terror on their faces, and guessed some of it came from the sight of her own swollen, blood-streaked features.

‘Identify yourselves,’ she ordered.

The couple talked over the top of one another, and she managed to pick out references to the
thing
Alex had alluded to, as well as some connection with Jack Hammerson and also Alex himself. She could use that. She needed to get them off the mountain; there were too many people around, and in such a situation confusion would be the killer.

‘I am also a HAWC,’ she said. ‘Part of Colonel Hammerson’s team. You need to get out of here, now!’ She nodded down to where the fight was still raging. ‘I will look after them from here. Go.’

‘But –’ the man began, pointing back up the mountainside, but Adira gave him a push.

He grabbed the woman by the arm and together they started to run, but the man kept glancing back. Adira wondered whether he intended to obey her instruction. She watched them disappear into the dark, then crouched low and started to move in closer to the fighting.

She stopped and sniffed through her blood-clogged nose – there was something acrid and animalistic floating on the air.

*

The creature reached the high edge of the sharp ridge and stared down at the small creatures as they beat and tore at each other. The aggression and blood lust excited it.

As it tensed its tree-thick limbs, ready to launch itself into the battle, there was movement to its right. Two shapes sprinted away into the darkness, and it was drawn to pursue them. After a few paces, it slid to a stop as the intoxicating odour of fresh blood and raw flesh filled its broad nostrils. Hunger flared and it bared its teeth.

It would take the meat first.

It moved closer, readying itself.

*

The single remaining attacker turned side-on in a shooter’s stance and aimed at Alex Hunter as he threw snow over his decomposing comrade. Hammerson brought his own gun up and fired several rounds at the man, keeping the trigger depressed for full automatic. The bullets blistered out from the long barrel like a swarm of hot angry wasps. In this mode, the small compact weapon delivered more bullets, but the force of the recoil made it extremely difficult for even the most accomplished marksman to control the spread. Only a couple of bullets struck the white-clad figure’s armoured torso before he flung himself out of the way and rolled.

Hammerson tried to track the rapidly moving figure. He was astonished when, instead of seeking cover, the man came to his feet and sprinted directly towards him in a blur of white. The man’s speed made it impossible for Hammerson to draw a bead; and when about fifteen feet out, the figure dived, Hammerson didn’t have time to recalibrate his aim or even dodge. The six-foot-two-inch missile hit him mid-chest, slamming him painfully backwards.

The man easily wrenched the gun from Hammerson’s hand, and a blow just under his diaphragm knocked the wind out of him. Hammerson heard the crack of his ceramic armour plating as the man’s fist connected, then pulled back to strike again.

The HAWC commander felt himself lifted and spun. He struggled in his captor’s unnaturally powerful grip, but might as well try to break lengths of steel cable. There was a hand around his neck, the other holding the gun up beside his face – but it was pointed not at him, but at Alex. Hammerson realised that he had never been a real threat . . . it had been about Alex all along.

Hammerson was pushed towards his former protégé, who seemed to be focused on something along the top of the ridge rather than what was going on in his immediate vicinity. Hammerson knew exactly what was happening – the masked soldier was using him as a shield to get himself close to Alex so he could take him out at point-blank range.

Hammerson struggled again, but every time he did, the grip on his neck tightened. Breathing was becoming difficult. He strained against the iron-like fingers around his throat and tried to reach down to the last weapon he had – the shorter Ka-Bar strapped to his leg. It was only seven inches long, but lethally sharp. Unfortunately, the way he was being held kept it just out of reach.

*

Alex was aware of Hammerson shooting at the last white-clad figure and then being overpowered, but his attention was elsewhere. There was something moving stealthily along the top of the ravine, trying not to be seen or heard, but he could tell that it was big and breathing deep and slow.

Alex knew the creature was hunting them, stalking them.

THIRTY-NINE

Hammerson saw Alex turn his head slightly so he was staring towards him and his captor, but he seemed to be looking through them rather than at them. There came a thundering roar from behind Hammerson – the undeniable sound of a challenge – followed by a loud thump, and then blinding pain as he and his assailant were smashed to the ground.

The HAWC commander tried to roll over, but his arm wouldn’t work. His shoulder was much lower on his frame than it should have been. Lying in the snow, his face half-buried, he saw a colossus standing where he and the ski-masked soldier had been seconds ago. Hammerson’s eyes travelled upwards, but the creature seemed to go on forever. At last he caught sight of an enormous crested head framed by the moonlight.

Well, Chief
, he thought wryly,
looks like the Kearns kid was right – there is something up here, after all
.

The white-clad man got to his feet, his super-charged physicality allowing him to recover much more quickly than Hammerson. He brought his gun up at the giant and fired. The bullet struck its leathery hide but elicited no more than a howl of annoyance.

The beast reached forward, seized the man by his gun arm and pulled him off his feet as easily as lifting a doll. In its grip, the man’s unnatural strength counted for little. The creature outweighed him by easily 1000 pounds, and its bunched simian muscles gave it more than enough power to deal with his smaller frame. It roared again, and brought its broad gargoyle-like face close to the man’s head, its enormous mouth opening wide to reveal long curved canines. It closed them around the soldier’s skull, the ski mask affording a perfect non-slip surface. The man rained blow after frantic blow on the creature’s broad face, but it ignored them.

Hammerson grimaced as the massive jaws shifted their grip with a grinding noise. For the first time, he heard the unnatural soldier react to pain – his screech made him sound all too human. There was a crunch and pop as his head burst, to splash thick fluid onto the snow at the creature’s feet.

The beast flung the body down the ravine. It disappeared into the trees fifty feet below. Hammerson lay still, hoping to be taken for dead. Years of watching
Animal Planet
had taught him that, to a carnivore, a dead animal was far less interesting than a live one.

‘Hey!’ a voice yelled. Alex’s.

Oh, shit no
, thought Hammerson.

*

The silence stretched – the only sound the slight squeak of leather as Alex clenched the knife handle tighter, readying himself for the beast’s charge.

It came, fast and heavy, its arms opening wide. Alex knew what it intended: to crush him in an embrace, then tear him to pieces. But when it reached Alex, he was no longer there. He’d darted under one of its seven-foot-long arms and flicked his blade across the leathery torso, opening a gash that splashed crimson blood onto the snow.

The beast spun quickly, then paused and blinked. A huge hand came up to touch the wound. It snuffed and blew out its cheeks, then smashed fists the size of basketballs into the snow. It screamed in rage and pounded the ground again and again, its fury building.

Alex moved around to its side, judging his next point of attack or defence.

The creature came again, but, unbelievably, it feinted to one side. Alex was forced to step and then correct himself. He had underestimated its intelligence and ability to adapt. In the split second it took for him to change his balance, the mighty beast charged again.

Alex dived, but it threw out an arm in a backhanded motion that caught Alex’s hip and spun him in the air. When he got to his feet, he felt his hip joint grind beneath the skin.

Hammerson was limping towards them, at the creature’s rear. He had the gun up, but his injuries made it difficult for him to aim. The enormous beast glanced briefly at the approaching HAWC, then returned its attention to Alex, circling him. With a flash of speed incongruous for something so huge, it twisted and flew towards Hammerson, grabbing him by the shoulder and flinging him bodily at Alex.

Hammerson had no chance; he spun in the air, arms and legs loose. He crashed into Alex and both men went flying, skidding several feet through the snow.

Alex flung the older soldier’s body off him. He knew what was coming next – the creature had used Hammerson as a diversion. And it had worked. His knife was trapped beneath him and the thing was already on top of him. It leaped and landed across his body, pinning him beneath its bulk of muscle and stinking fur and bringing its open mouth close to Alex’s face. Its jaws were as wide as his entire skull, and its hot breath smelled of rotten meat and death.