Xeno Sapiens (38 page)

Merrifield reholstered his weapon. He
cleared the mouthpiece and spoke into the radio.

“
Hall’s gone. I don’t think he ever
saw us.”

“
Should we come to you?”

Merrifield chewed his lip
thoughtfully.

“
No,” he said at last. “He’s chasing
Seth. I don’t think there’s another murdering lunatic foolish
enough to be out on a night like this.”

Merrifield had expected that his
surmise that Hall would act directly would be correct, but he was
shaky and surprised that he had had verification of his suspicions
so quickly. He had hoped he was only making up trouble, but that
fiction had turned to fact.

“
Okay, Jon,” Clifton said. “Do you
want...” He broke off. “Jimmy wants to know if you want us to have
you two drive them toward us, like dogs hunting deer.”

“
Hall is hardly as stupid as a
deer.”

“
No, but Seth doesn’t know the fine
art of eluding pursuit. Wherever Seth is driven, Hall will
follow.”

“
He could wise up and wait in
ambush.”

“
I don’t know, Jon,” Clifton said
slowly. “He’s far gone. I don’t think he cares about anything else.
When I saw him, he looked crazy enough to eat razor
blades.”

“
We’ll be the ones taking the
risk.”

“
That’s a matter of circumstance. It
wasn’t my doing that he turned up in your area.”

“
No,” Merrifield sighed. “I’m
beginning to wonder
whose
doing it is.”

He released the send button and looked
at Alan. Rain dripped from their hoods and dropped before faces
hidden in shadow.

“
You heard?”

“
I thought I’d left my infantry days
behind me,” Alan said. “Jimmy’s right, you know. It’s our best
shot. Otherwise, we’ll just be stumbling around blindly, playing
hide and seek in the wilderness.”

Merrifield led the way as the two men
moved into the forest. Muddy water splashed up from each footfall
as they slogged through the woods. Pine boughs showered them with
their rich perfume, thick as the color of emeralds. Every step into
the sodden woodland brought them closer to an end which could be
changed no more than the tides could be turned or the hands of time
stopped.

Rifle at the ready, Hall moved between
a double line of pine trees grown up like warring battalions facing
each other. Merrifield had been in his sights when the monster had
burst from behind him. He had whirled around, heart thudding, rifle
ready to discharge. He feared he was about to fail due to an
underestimation of the monster. This made him angrier than he would
ever admit.

He had spied a momentary glimpse of
white sole disappear amid the suddenly moving limbs of low bushes.
As though in a reduced speed motion picture, Hall watched a strip
of mud come loose from Seth’s heel and spin end over end away into
the night. Seth’s eerie wail was like nothing Hall had ever heard.
Even now it resounded in his head, like the ringing in the ears one
can hear hours after a loud concert.

Hall had fired at the retreating
figure. Without sighting through the scope, the bullet went astray.
The fire from the barrel was dim and brief in the thick darkness,
the explosive report but another sound punctuated over the
rain.

Hall had heard a confused noise from
behind him and knew that Merrifield and his partner had flattened
themselves in the mud. He had expected that Merrifield would divine
his purpose, but was surprised he would come after him instead of
cowering in the Alamo and allowing Hall to claim his prize. A
disquieting frown disturbed Hall’s features.

What in God’s name could
the monster possess that makes him so important? Important enough
for a potbellied old man to match wits with the best of the
hunters. Could Merrifield actually be frightened of his
destruction? Could the monster be the ne plus ultra? The crowning
achievement that cannot be duplicated? Could Merrifield harbor hope
that this cowardly, childlike creature is of value to him? And if
so, why?

Hall’s sense of loss faded. Both of his
quarries had been within easy reach and only blind chance had
allowed one to save the other. His pause for reflection allowed him
to see things more clearly.

One: Seth was more important in the
scheme of things than Hall had originally thought. Merrifield was
willing to risk his life to protect him.

Two: the monster was far more clever
than Hall had anticipated. He had blended with his surroundings.
Many men, now dead by Hall’s hands, had not.

Hall slipped between two rows of trees.
Their trunks bulged toward him, forcing him to squeeze between
them. On either side of the trees was an un-navigable marsh of
slick mud and leaves. It was a natural ambush site and the only
place Seth could have gone.

The ground was nearly dry inside the
double row of trees. An awning of interlocking limbs formed a
natural roof. Dry pine needles splintered and cracked under Hall’s
shoes. The curious sensation of power held in this place, too. It
was as if natural laws as he knew them would not behave here. This
was a place where things that went up might not come down and a
fire lit in pitch darkness might suck out the light and chill your
bones instead of warming them. Hall had felt this particular
ambiance only once before, when he had confronted Seth for the
first time. He realized that Seth was close. The mere fact of his
presence didn’t disturb Hall, but what undid him slightly was he
could feel Seth’s power rebuilding.

Hidden by a thicket of bushes at the
far end of the arena, Seth watched as Hall stole between the trees.
He would have continued to run, but the physical necessity of
resting had thrust itself upon him. He had fled to this natural
room in the heart of the forest, knowing in his heart that the
terrible man would follow.

Hall’s form was a red-hued devil from
hell. Hall advanced cautiously, more purpose and wariness in his
steps. Seth’s first reaction was puzzlement, but he had neither the
courage nor the strength to act on it. He sat and cringed. And
while he waited, he felt the texture of Hall’s thoughts, their
force and intent.

Where are you, bugger? Come
out and fight like a man. We’ll get it all out. We’ll take care of
the Alamo, and Merrifield, and precious Ingrid Milner. I’ll give
you a fair chance my way. Their way, you’ll never know when it’s
coming for you. I’ll show you God’s mercy, they’ll show you man’s
evil. Which way do you want it, friend?

The air turned electric. The fine hairs
on Hall’s forearms tried to raise up, but were held down by the
blacksuit. He looked warily through his goggles, searching for
Seth, knowing he was near. It was as if he were in an electrical
grid, walking through unbelievably powerful energy surges that
danced up close, then skittered back before touching him. He felt
like a man in a minefield, with a special, Divine protection. Neon
blue lightning flared vividly, bathing Hall in a ghastly blush. His
goggles reflected the light and made his eyes glow like
ill-intentioned foxfire.

Hall stopped and turned his head. His
concentration slipped a notch; his power level shifting into a
different mode. Just outside, two men neared the arena. Hall turned
and stalked to the edge of the arena, sparing one red-hued, defiant
glance over his shoulder.

Seth’s senses wound down to near
semi-consciousness as Hall became occupied elsewhere. The
approaching men were his protectors, his saviors, whether it was
their intention or not.

With no warning, something came alive
in Seth’s head; something vile and squirming like a
snake.

You can wait, monster. You
had your chance to make it easy on yourself and you chose to defy
me. Now you see that God wants you dead. He has protected me and I
intend to make you suffer. I want you to feel His wrath as he
allows me to cut your saviors down. They never had a chance,
monster. I’ll crush them beneath my heel, just as I’ll do with you.
I’ve tracked and cornered you more than once. And when you see that
your saviors are no match for me or my God, we’ll be alone. Just
you, just me.

Seth, cringing in abject terror-
knowing he could stop the killing- simply pulled further into
himself and hoped Hall would go away.

Hall stepped into the rain outside the
arena.

The stalker waited in ambush. Hall
watched the misty beams of light play up the slope where he lay
hidden amidst a snare of vines and holly bushes. He quietly removed
his goggles and slipped them into a flat, slitlike pocket of his
blacksuit. He wanted no random flash of lightning illuminating the
goggles into fiery luminescence. A survivor did not overlook the
smallest detail.

Merrifield was walking point. He called
to his companion behind him.

“
I want you to hang back of me a few
yards, Alan,” he said as they approached the base of the slope.
Caudill nodded as lightning flickered. The lower edge of
Merrifield’s black slicker lit up in a velvet electric glow as he
trudged ahead. Streaks of water showed up as long, white blotches
in the reflected light. The lulling sound of rain beat soothingly
against Alan’s hood. The relentless chill had made his fingers
stiff and unresponsive. He flexed his fingers painfully, but
gritted his teeth and plunged resolutely forward.

Hall watched the party divide. He
unslung his M-16 and bolt rifle and propped them against a handy
tree trunk. From the special pocket sewn into the ankle of his
black-suit, he withdrew his bayonet.

Merrifield was halfway up the slope,
slipping and sliding, floundering like a land-locked whale. He
panted and Hall grinned at the thought that Merrifield actually
believed he could have challenged him.

Merrifield’s flashlight beam
investigated the darkness at the top of the slope. It swept over
Hall and Hall ducked his head so his eyes wouldn’t reflect the
light. He was practically invisible to anything less than a touch
search.

He waited for what seemed a reasonable
length of time, then raised his eyes. When he looked up,
Merrifield’s ankles were directly in his line of sight. He was so
close he could have reached out and tickled his leg. Lightning
rippled overhead and Hall felt a jolt of fear. If Merrifield
happened to be looking at him, he must surely see the blacksuit was
not part of the wasted bushes. If that were the case, he was a dead
man.

But there was no sign of recognition
from Merrifield.

Merrifield stood at the entrance to the
arena, gauging the distance between the trees and wondering if he
could squeeze between them. The slopes on both sides of the stand
of trees had been washed bare by the rains and the roiling mud
seemed to be sliding on itself. To skirt to either side of the
trees would bring certain mishap. With a good deal of fervent
grunting and swearing, Merrifield forced his way into the
arena.

Hall waited.

Caudill approached the entrance,
dripping rain onto the branches that hid Hall from view.
Merrifield’s voice drifted out to him.

“
It’s all clear, Alan. Come on
in.”

Alan trudged up the hill. A shadow
broke away from the undergrowth. The rain hissed down, masking the
two soft steps taken directly behind Alan. Water dripped off his
downward pointing hood, then suddenly flew in a spray as a hand
reached around with lightning speed and covered his mouth. The hand
yanked his head up and the curve of his throat bulged outward. With
one deft movement, Hall brought his bayonet across Alan’s throat
and cut a deep slash. Carotid arteries and vocal cords disappeared
in a welling wave of blood.

Alan’s body hit the ground like a sack
of bowling balls and slid down the muddy slope. It reached the
halfway point before starting to roll and tumble like a rag doll.
His body finally came to rest against a rock, his head pointing
downhill. The callous force of gravity pulled the blood from the
mangled vessels and spilled it on the uncaring ground.

Hall held his bayonet out and let the
rain wash the blade clean. He heard Merrifield’s voice inside the
arena.

“
What’s the holdup, Alan? Come on
in.”

Hall looked unfeelingly at the body of
his victim lying at the foot of the slope. Alan’s bloodless face
was a pale slate in the night, his mouth open in a never voiced
scream.

Without gathering his guns, armed only
with his bayonet, Hall threaded his way into the arena.

*******************

Seth felt Merrifield’s fear. Not for
himself, but for Alan.

By God, if he’s hurt Alan,
I’ll murder him with my bare hands. If you’ve touched anymore of my
people, you bloody cocksucker, I’ll have you skinned
alive.

Seth jolted from his stupor.
Merrifield’s thoughts came out in hard, choppy waves with little to
link them, but his intent was clear. Something was coming. Seth
recognized the sowing of the air with intense layers of dark power.
It was the omen of the man called Hall.