"Yes?"
"A mutation," Tipler replied flatly. "A genetic mutation of either man or beast. How or why it came about I cannot say. But it is a theory which we must now consider. Without doubt."
Hunter followed the gazes and measured the men behind him more thoroughly than he had several days ago. Because now he had seen them in action, could estimate their wilderness skills. And some, he had already calculated, were out of their element.
First, there was Taylor, who seemed to care for nothing and fear nothing. He seemed relatively comfortable in the bush, and Hunter had determined that his overt propensity to antagonize was born from the simple fact that he was innately hostile. But in the field he was a consummate soldier, dependable and performing his duties professionally and without complaint.
Then there was Buck, a Stone Age cowboy who never complained and seemed to move with an easy economy of movement that belied an ingrained wilderness wisdom. And, somehow, Hunter felt Buck could be trusted, perhaps because he was one of the few team members who retained some sense of humor about the affair. As efficient as he seemed to be, Buck was easygoing and relaxed, and seemed to hide nothing. The only team member that Hunter had not yet spoken with was a British soldier named Arthur Wilkenson.
Wilkenson, Hunter had learned from Bobbi Jo, was a former member of the British Special Air Service. And Hunter knew that the SAS were considered the toughest of the tough. Stoic and aloof, Wilkenson had made no efforts to speak with Hunter, but Hunter had studied him quietly. Tall and lean, but clearly quite muscular, Wilkenson never seemed to tire. But Hunter didn't think it was from his native constitution; it seemed more a product of stern conditioning.
The Englishman's sharply angled face held piercing green eyes that glinted with quick intelligence, and Hunter remembered Bobbi Jo mentioning that he spoke five languages and was an expert in tactical analysis.
"What's that?" Hunter had asked.
"It's an SOP," she responded. "It's where someone is adept at analyzing defense strength and designing the appropriate tactic to countermine it." She had stared back as she thought more carefully about it. "In the army, you'd probably have to go to the National War College for something like that. At least to some kind of policy-making position training camp. I don't know how they do it in the SAS. But I know he's a high-level thinker. Maybe as high as it gets."
Slowly raising his eyes, Hunter studied the austere silhouette of Wilkenson. "Why do you think he was assigned to this?"
She hesitated, catching his vague disturbance. "The Pentagon doesn't know what to expect," she said finally, "so they might be covering every contingency." She stared over the forest. "I have to be honest with you, this weird-ass stunt isn't like anything I've ever done, Hunter. Throwing together a team for a high-risk mission like this instead of pulling in a group from Delta or the SEALs goes against good sense. We haven't seen any combat together so we don't know how the next person is going to react. I don't know why they did it like this. It almost guarantees failure."
As she spoke, Hunter heard something approach.
"Set all weapons on fully automatic fire," Takakura said sternly. "But there will be no firing unless we have a clear sight of the creature."
Another team member that Hunter had not come to know well— Riley — stepped forward. Also lean but with heavy arms and shoulders, Riley was brown-haired with brown eyes. He had a sharp angular face and high cheekbones. He spoke with a slight Irish accent. And, in addition to his M-16 rifle, he carried a climbing rope looped shoulder to waist with crampons, chocks, carabineers and pitons on a belt at his waist.
"I would like to ask Hunter a question," he said.
Hunter looked quietly at him. Waited patiently.
"Mr. Hunter." Riley stepped forward. "I have watched you track this creature. I respect you. I admire your skills. But I wish to know what you know. They say that you can tell much about this from how it moves. That you can think as it does." He paused. "I doubt, when we come face to face with this creature, that we will have time to learn from our mistakes. To me, now seems an appropriate time for you to prepare us."
Takakura turned toward Hunter at Riley's words, indicating that he agreed. Hunter wondered how much he should reveal, and quickly ruled out the claw and what he had discovered in the laboratory at the research center. But, clearly, they deserved to know everything else he could give them. He didn't know as much as he wished, but whatever he could tell them would be more than they knew now.
"All right," he said, glad for the opportunity. "I'll tell you what I think. This thing we're after doesn't move like an animal. And I know, 'cause I've tracked 'em all. It's not following a circuit and it's not roaming. It's killing whatever it finds." He paused, thinking, and tried to be concise. "Listen, this is what I think will happen," he continued. "It will ambush us. Probably from above. A ledge, a tree, something like that. It'll try and hit and get away quick. But it probably won't chase any of us. It'll wait 'til we're close, then it'll make its move. You've got to watch your surroundings at all times. And I mean at all times. And… I think we're dealing with something that is faster and stronger than anything you've ever seen or imagined. If you see it coming, get off a shot fast. The rest of us will follow. If you hesitate, I guarantee you won't be around to regret it."
Frowning, Takakura bent his dark head. "How soon before we encounter this creature?"
Hunter hesitated, measuring the commitment burning in their faces before he lifted his rifle, turning away.
"Whenever it decides," he said.
Chapter 8
After reorienting from the discovery of the grizzly and deciding to establish camp at the first available defensive position, Hunter led them down the ridge by dead reckoning. He didn't have time for a map or compass, and the Magellan system only revealed where you were, not the suitability of surrounding terrain for bivouac purposes.
Bobbi Jo was to his left, as usual, and Ghost moved to his right, often lifting his head to search by sight before he lowered his nose and sniffed, suddenly disturbed. Hunter paused but saw nothing, and had no time for a detailed examination, so they kept moving through a gathering dark that would fall like a phantom's cloak on these trees, making even the moon seem distant and weak.
Since discovering the bear, Hunter had carried in his hand the ragged claw he had retrieved from the steel panel of the destroyed research facility, trying to construct everything he knew about the beast into a cohesive picture. Although broken, it was thick as a bear's — long and slightly curving with a tip that razored to a wicked, hooked point. He wondered if it was used primarily for slashing or piercing or even holding; he couldn't decide.
It was strangely tapered, almost in a wedge. He had never seen one like it because most claws were task-specific, tailored to a particular job like digging, holding, slashing, or climbing. But this claw seemed to be unnaturally all-purpose, as if it could gouge, pierce, or tear; an effective weapon or tool.
It was also finely serrated, so no matter what, it retained an effective cutting edge. It reminded him of the teeth of those prehistoric sharks, the Carcharodon Megalodon, whose teeth, recovered 10,000 years later from the ocean floor, still retained a serrated razor sharpness. He turned his mind back to making a quick and secure camp. Found Takakura moving beside him.
"You have never seen anything like this?" he asked with some credulity. "Not ever?"
"No," Hunter replied. "I've tracked everything on earth, Commander, and I've never tracked anything that moved purposefully from stone to stone. Nothing that made sudden changes of direction without reason. Nothing that didn't move on a circuit or within a territory. And, strangely, this thing doesn't seem to hunt at all. It just kills whatever it encounters by chance, eats it and moves on. It kills a lot and eats a lot, but it holds to the direction it's going like a man. It knows exactly where it's heading, that much is clear. So it has purpose." Hunter paused, turned toward Takakura: "But the only purpose a normal animal has is survival, Commander. So this thing, whatever it is, doesn't think like an animal. It has some kind of…some kind of plan or something."