Ripper (49 page)

“Gentlemen, the U.S. Air Force Special Operations Command wishes you all good luck!” the loadmaster called out through the secure radio channel just before the red light flashed green in the red tint of the sight-saving lighting inside the Hercules. “Go, go, go, go!” the loadmaster called out as four rows of men jumped from the ramp at the same time. As he watched, a single man brought up the
rear and delayed his HALO jump by ten seconds. Then the plane was empty and the Hercules turned away to the West where it would head to March Air Force Base in Southern California to be hidden from prying eyes and immediately prepped as the special operations crew rested. In just ten hours the Hercules would be ready to be called upon once again to deliver any secure package anywhere in the world.

EVENT GROUP COMPLEX,
NELLIS AFB, NEVADA

The group of nine men and women huddled in the far corner of the football field, not far from the goal line where Virginia had scored her winning touchdown not three days before. That event now seemed like it had taken place a thousand years before.

The eldest of the group, and by far the most tenured person on the Event Group staff was Professor Henry
Thomas, a man who graduated from Cal Berkley in 1977. He kept all those around him silent as they heard time and time again loud, roaring screams, gunfire, and then as now, complete and utterly terrifying silence. They had been hiding since the power failed and the giant lift failed to return from level one.

“Take it easy. Captain Everett and old Pete Golding will do something soon; you can bet
on it,” said the totally gray-haired professor of Middle Eastern philosophy.

In the near darkness of the sports complex he examined the young, frightened faces of technicians and chemists, photo analysts, and chefs. They all looked to him as the elder statesman for the nerve it took to sit in the dark and tell themselves time and time again that there was no such thing as the boogeyman, that
there was never a monster under your bed, and that the thing in the closet was nothing but your own fertile imagination.

As Professor Thomas moved from person to person, reassuring as he went, a sudden crash sounded right above the high-ceilinged gymnasium. He flinched as several large chunks of plastic and plaster fell from high above and struck the fifty-yard line of the football field.

“Must
be rats up there,” he joked, but when no one laughed he felt terrible for making light of the sound of the concrete as it hit the artificial turf.

The sound of laughing froze everyone, and those that were sitting stood. The old professor froze as the sound chilled him to the bone.

“It seems your friends have abandoned you,” came the deep, raspy, and booming voice from somewhere in the darkness.
This elicited more than one of the frightened people to scream, and that alone made the others want to run in the opposite direction of the voice.

“Who are you?” Professor Thomas called out.

More laughter. “Why I am Darkness. I am Fear. I am Satan and you are in the ninth level of hell,” came the voice with almost hysterical laughter. “My hell!” the booming voice echoed.

A woman screamed and
turned away, only to be kept still by two men next to her.

“Do not panic; it’s trying to frighten us,” Thomas said.

“Trying?” the voice asked with a chuckle. “I have achieved at least that,” came the horrible sound.

They heard the sound of something moving above them. Thomas looked up at the spiderweb of girders above the athletic field. His old eyes could not penetrate the darkness, but he
thought he saw movement. Then he saw something move hand over hand above them that made him move away toward the group of frightened men and women.

Suddenly a screech sounded to their far right. Several men and women screamed as they thought whatever was taunting them was right behind them. They all realized at once that it was the sound of the cargo elevator descending the great carved-out shaft
of natural rock. They heard the eight-inch cables as they creaked and whined in its powerful descent.

“Everyone move toward the elevator gate. Get ready to enter it and then close the gate behind you. Now move! Go as quietly as you can.”

“You’re coming too, right?” asked a young woman who had spent the past four years analyzing the download of information from the Group’s KH-11 Blackbird satellite,
code named Boris and Natasha. She sounded as if she were near tears as she realized what the old professor had planned.

“I’m afraid not dear. Now get moving and I’ll see if I can keep this thing, whatever it is, occupied.”

Just as they started to move away, the laughter came once more. The professor nodded at his small group of survivors and moved off into the dark. The others started moving
toward the back of the sports arena. They heard the elevator drawing closer as they moved, stumbling and cursing in the dark, but still doing as the professor ordered. Then suddenly they heard the cargo elevator hit their level and stop with a loud whine. First one, then another, and then the others started a blind and panic-driven run toward the gates that housed the lift.

Professor Thomas started
a run of his own. He ran toward the center of the field and then tripped immediately over the rubble that had fallen. He rolled onto his back just as something large fell from the girders above him. It fell the one hundred feet and landed with a thud only five yards from his prone body. He heard the growl of whatever it was immediately. He raised his head and saw the darkened shape standing
before him. The figure looked like the largest primate he had ever seen. It was at least seven feet tall and built like a tank. He could see the outline of its body and knew it to be naked.

“What in the hell are you?” he asked as he tried his best to sit up, but his body would not cooperate.

“I and others like me are dead men, just as you are,” came the deep and menacing voice.

“Who are you?”
Thomas said in a low voice, shocked when he realized that the creature standing before him heard the question. Its hearing must have been like that of a timberwolf in the winter months.

“Who … am … I?” came the lowered voice, which had lost the menacing, just-beneath-the-surface growl. “My … my name is…”

Thomas saw the line of drool fall from the beast’s mouth. It shimmered in the weak lighting
from the emergency floods. The professor chanced a look behind him and tried to see where his people were. He heard the opening of the large cargo gate and the hollow thump of footsteps as people started to fill the giant floor of the elevator. He knew he had to stall for more time.

“Yes, tell me your name,” he asked, trying to use as much sympathy-laced injection as he could.

The shadowy beast
before him tilted its head as if it were deep in thought. It was still drooling and it shifted its massive weight from foot to foot.

“Car … Car … Carmichael, Sam … uel, rrrrr, serial num … ber … 556 … 67 … 48 … 79.”

“That’s a nice name, son.”

The beast straightened up and with a shake of its large head lifted its face to the dark area above them and screamed in rage. It started forward and
Professor Thomas said a silent, quick prayer as the creature came into full view. The old man crossed himself as he realized he had been speaking to a beast who said his name, and then offered his serial number, just as a soldier would have. He hoped it wasn’t one of Captain Everett’s security men just as he closed his eyes at the exact moment the giant soldier stomped him literally to death. Then
its green and glowing eyes looked up and penetrated the darkness as it caught sight of the lift and the people inside who were just lowering the gate. It started running for the elevator and its occupants.

The men and women inside were screaming for whoever was operating the lift to step on it. They realized that they weren’t going to move in time. The beast was almost upon the steel gate as
it reached out. Suddenly the giant cargo elevator started to rise and it was the sudden movement that made the beast miss the mark. It was left grabbing at empty air as the lift rose on its sixteen massive cables. As the lost souls rose from the depths of the ninth circle of hell, they looked through the steel grating and watched in abject horror as the large gate sealing the shaft crashed inward.

“Oh, God!” one of the men shouted as the beast rose in the darkness, leaped from the shaft, and grabbed hold of a trailing cable. It started to climb.

The giant lift started to climb faster as the large motors on level one coiled the cables and took on the massive weight of the elevator. Still, the creature came hand over hand on the slippery cable.

“Jesus, what do we do?” asked one of the women.

The beast hit the bottom of the lift before any answer could be given. Everyone screamed as the thick and elongated fingers came through the grating that made up the flooring. The beast held on as it ripped and pulled at the steel mesh. It was now in a frenzy of madness as the men and women tried to get as far into the opposite corner as possible. Soon, the beast was able to get its entire arm
through the steel floor. It swiped at those closest and nearly managed to snag a woman’s bare foot.

It would be through the floor of the lift in less than a minute.

GATE NUMBER ONE
THE OLD HANGAR

As the thirteen security men watched, they could see the top of the lift as it rose. They had been caught off-guard when the giant elevator started down into the complex. The sergeant in charge of
gate security cursed his luck that he hadn’t been closer so at least six of the team could have lowered themselves into the complex. As it was, they were stunned when the lift started rising once more. They could hear frightened screams of men and women coming closer out of the blackness below.

“Stand ready to cover these people,” the sergeant said as he backed away from the gate where the elevator
would arrive. “It sounds like they may have company coming with them.”

Finally they could see the anxious, scared faces staring up at them from the terrified men and women on the lift. “Stand back,” the sergeant shouted as the concrete flooring parted fully. The gap they had been looking into separated into a massive thirty-foot-long chasm as the lift neared the top.

The sergeant quickly opened
the steel gate that protected the open pit and readied his M-14 carbine as did his twelve men. The lift finally appeared and as it cleared the opening the steel gates that made up its side slowly lowered on their hydraulics until they were flat against the old concrete of the hangar. He didn’t have to order the men and women off the lift, as they came at his men in a stampede. Shaken, the sergeant
was yelling for them to slow down and tell him what was happening. Then he heard one of his men shout as another sound came into the mix, the tearing and wrenching of steel as the beast finally tore away the last of the flooring.

“My God,” the sergeant said as his men’s gunfire drowned out his exclamation of shock at what he was seeing. The beast covered its head and face and charged the security
detail. It was only focused on getting through them and their gunfire to kill everyone that had been on the lift. It was as if its brain had locked on to one desire only: get those that had escaped it.

The security men saw that their 5.56-millimeter rounds were just punching holes in thick, pulsing skin while not doing any real damage.

“Fall back, out of the hangar!” the sergeant yelled as he
started to back away, pushing and pulling his men as he did.

The beast roared and advanced. It moved with purpose as Jack and Carl’s well-trained security men maintained their fire until they were clear of the giant hangar doorframe. They backed away while keeping up a withering fire at the beast. They watched as large pieces of flesh were torn free of its chest, legs, and arms, but still it
advanced.

The camouflaged security detail ventured into the dark night where the desert surrounded them but offered no hope of cover. They realized too late that they were walking the creature directly into the path of every man and woman they had pulled from the complex, over three hundred of them, most of which were yelling and screaming in fear as the beast was free of the hangar and bearing
down up them.

“This is it, no farther, hold the line!” the sergeant shouted as the beast was only fifteen feet from them. Men were firing and quickly emptying their weapons.

Suddenly they heard the command coming from behind the creature. The order was loud and clear, even over the crackle of gunfire.

“Soldiers to our front, hit the deck!”

Collins had trained his men to not hesitate. He had
drilled into them that any form of hesitation got people killed. The thirteen men of gate one security hit the ground just as a withering, powerful eruption of heavy-caliber gunfire opened up at almost point-blank range. The heavy-caliber rounds, most fired from fifty-caliber weapons, struck the creature, forcing it to turn and face the new threat behind it. That was its fatal mistake. It thought
that it was going to face more of the light-caliber rounds of the security men, but instead it faced heavy fire that tore the front of the beast to pieces. It roared in pain and shook its massive head. It continued forward. Suddenly the altered soldier was dropped as a round fired from a fifty caliber Barrett single-shot rifle struck it between the eyes. The creature’s head literally exploded into
mist. Still it took one, two, and then three steps forward before it fell into the desert sand outside of the old hangar.

Suddenly the frightened group of civilians and the security element from gate one saw over thirty shadows rise up from the still-hot sands of the desert. One of the men still held the smoking M107A1 fifty-caliber Barrett rifle.

“Jesus Christ!” the sergeant from the Event
Group said loudly. “Where in the hell did you guys come from?”

A small man that held the large-bore fifty stepped forward and removed his ambient-light goggles and then his bush hat. He wiped sweat from his face as he stared down at the monstrosity he and his men had just dropped.

“We just dropped in from Never Never Land Trooper,” Major Jerry “Grateful Dead” Garcia said as he motioned his men
forward. “Tommy, it looks like we’ll be rapelling. Get the gear ready.”