Julius is killing you, Zach, his brain screamed. Julius! Do you really want to let him get the best of you?
He shook his head. The fog began to lift and his body groaned in protest.
Then the pain appeared.
It roared through him with a vengeance, racking his body and causing him to squirm and writhe on the ground.
Pearson lost his balance and fell to one side.
With pain came clarity and in a split-second, Caplan realized the precariousness of his position. Walls of fire surrounded the clearing, blocking off possible exits and sucking oxygen out of his lungs. The helicopter couldn’t be far away. But before he could climb aboard, he needed to deal with Pearson. And not only was Pearson bigger and stronger than him, the man seemed to have lost all concern for self-preservation.
Caplan rose to his feet. Stumbled to one side. Then to the other. Smoke was everywhere, all around him. It felt like he was standing in a caldera, waiting for a volcano to erupt. Lifting his eyes, he saw the helicopter, cloaked in smoke, hovering a couple of feet off the ground.
But before he could run toward it, Pearson rolled to his feet directly between Caplan and the chopper. The giant took several deep breaths, inhaling the smoke as if it were oxygen. It seemed to pump him up and he rose to his full height, swaggering like a professional wrestler.
Looking over Pearson’s shoulder, Caplan caught glimpses of Morgan amidst the smoke. She clutched the metal bar in one hand and held the pistol in her other one. But the chopper swung wildly, back and forth, and she couldn’t get good stability. Even if she could, he wasn’t sure she’d take the shot with all the smoke.
Caplan looked into Pearson’s eyes. He didn’t bother with bargaining or reasoning. There was no point. Pearson clearly had no interest in boarding the helicopter and escaping the flames. The giant was perfectly willing to die.
As long as he took Caplan with him.
Caplan’s thoughts returned to their last altercation. Pearson had sucker-punched him in the clearing and then wailed away at him. Despite the recent beating, Caplan still remembered those earlier punches, still felt them deep in his bones. Pearson was simply too powerful to take on mano a mano.
Caplan reached for his jaw, gently massaging it. It hurt like hell. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he mumbled, barely swallowing his pain.
“Not even close.” Pearson slammed his right fist into his left palm. “I’m going to break your face. And I’m going to enjoy it.”
“You couldn’t break bread without an instruction manual and someone to read it to you.”
Pearson’s face reddened. “Think you’re smarter than me? Then how come I tricked you into taking that HA-78 shot?”
“You didn’t trick me. James did. You were just his tool.”
Pearson’s face grew as red as the flames.
“And you’re still his tool. Want to know how I can tell?” Caplan grinned, pouring fuel on the verbal fire. “Because he’s long gone and you’re still here.”
“Not for long. I’m going to kill you and get the hell out of this place.”
“Correction. I’m leaving in the helicopter. You’re leaving in an urn.”
Bellowing at the top of his lungs, Pearson rushed forward.
Caplan raised his fists, adopting a boxer’s stance.
Still running, Pearson cocked his fist and took a wild swing.
Time slowed down for Caplan. He saw Pearson’s scarred knuckles and taut muscles. He studied the man’s footing and range of motion.
Then he ducked.
Pearson’s swing missed by a country mile. Digging his heels into the soft mud, he fought to shift course.
Caplan whirled around and gave him a powerful shove.
The extra momentum, coupled with Pearson’s awkward movements, sent the man reeling to the side. He fell down, taking a whole section of grass blades with him.
The sound of splintering wood grew deafening. Pines, spruces, and cedars began to sway. Air whooshed and something hot and soft struck Caplan’s head. Peering upward, he saw hundreds of fiery pine cones raining from the sky.
Caplan didn’t bother to throw more punches. Instead, he raced across the clearing, plowing through burning grass and across patches of baked soil. And all the while, he watched the hovering helicopter, watched Morgan’s outstretched hand.
The splintering turned into full-blown cracking. Spinning his head from side to side, Caplan saw trees immersed in hot flames. They disintegrated before his eyes and began spitting out pieces of red-hot bark and chunks of blazing wood.
And then the trees started to fall.
A thick pine tree, some 200 feet tall, was the first to go. It slammed to the earth, just a few feet behind Caplan. The earth trembled and he lost his balance, falling to the ground.
Another pine tree, positioned to the southeast, broke free. It crashed into the first tree, sending waves of sparks into the air.
Caplan leapt to his feet. His eyes shot skyward and ice crept through his boiling blood.
Everywhere he looked, he saw shattering, falling trees. They collapsed in all directions, but the vast majority looked like they were headed for the clearing.
Caplan ran forward and vaulted over a thick cedar tree. His trail-runners hit dirt on the other side and he kept going, picking up speed and trying not to get hit by the plummeting, burning tree trunks.
The smoke thickened. He could barely breathe, let alone see. Based purely on instinct, he leapt into the air. A blast of hot air struck his side as a tree narrowly missed crunching into his skull. Thick smoke wafted around him, enclosing him in its nonexistent grip. He shifted his hand, grasping for something, anything.
His palm struck something… was that?… yes! The landing skid! His fingers closed around it, grasping it in a vice grip. His body jolted and he dangled in mid-air for a moment. Then he reached up and grabbed the skid with his other hand.
Morgan’s face appeared in the smoke. She grabbed his wrists and braced herself. “I’ve got him,” she yelled to Perkins.
The helicopter rose a few inches. Caplan kicked his dangling feet, trying to wrap them around the skid. Failing, he rested for a moment, gathering his strength. Then he started to kick them up again.
Muscular arms slammed into his legs, wrapping around them. Caplan jolted again and he nearly lost his grip on the skid. Looking down, he saw Pearson clutching his thighs, hovering a foot or two above a fallen and fiery pine tree.
Pearson stared at Caplan. His cheeks were bright red and his lip curled from the effort of maintaining his grip. His eyes flashed with lively insanity.
Morgan’s fingertips dug into Caplan’s wrists. He tried to shake off the bigger man. When that failed, he attempted to pull himself upward. But Pearson’s size acted as a veritable anchor, slowly dragging Caplan into a sea of fire and falling trees.
An enormous roar, accompanied by a fierce gust of wind, slammed into the helicopter and Caplan. The chopper shot to the side. Morgan lost her grip on Caplan’s wrist and tumbled into the cabin.
What the hell was that? Caplan thought.
For a single moment, he forgot about the fire, about Pearson, about his weakening grip on the landing skid. His head turned to the south and he saw the massive wildfire. But he saw something else, too. A giant shadow of shifting, thumping blackness.
Trees cracked and splintered, falling to the northwest and northeast. The shadow surged forward and Caplan glimpsed something he’d never expected to see in his entire life. Something that didn’t belong in this world, during this epoch or any other. Something that shocked him to his very core.
It was a saber-toothed tiger. But not the sort of saber that had roamed the world thousands of years earlier. This saber was different. It was monstrous. No. It was far beyond monstrous.