Ground rushing beneath her.
Ghost sensed it and froze.
Hunter didn't blink.
Slowly he turned his head to measure the wolf's motionless stance and saw the bat-like ears standing high to catch the faintest, farthest whisper of movement, but he could see that Ghost was equally frustrated.
It was close to them, so close that Ghost could catch the almost nonexistent sound of soft grass crushed under a padded foot, and Hunter shifted his grip on the 45.70, turning his head to Bobbi Jo. She was already alert, watching him with wide eyes. Silent, he pointed vaguely at a forty-foot section of stone; he was fairly confident that it was somewhere in that jagged darkness. She nodded.
Instantly Takakura followed his direction and Hunter glanced past the big Japanese to see Taylor raise the shotgun from his side, staring into the surrounding dark stones.
Hunter realized that any dark hole in there would be a good place for ambush — which was a likely possibility since it had never attacked them in the day and would likely want the advantage of surprise. But that sparked another idea within him, an idea that perhaps it was hurt more than they had presumed by small-arms fire. Or maybe there was a limit to that healing ability. Impossible to say, and it bothered Hunter for only the briefest of breaths as he poised.
It was so close, somewhere in that jagged fanged mouth of up-jutting stone, that he could almost smell its breath. But it knew that they knew, and it was moving cautiously. Yet Hunter knew also that they couldn't wait all day for it to attack.
Which didn't leave many choices.
For certain, entering the stones to search for it was not an option. Nor was standing here forever, waiting. So he debated and then decided. Raising the Marlin slightly, he took a cautious step, glancing back narrowly to see that the others were following.
He noticed that Taylor had taken a defensive position close to Riley and Buck, who were still carrying the professor; a necessary risk since they might be able to move completely past this position if the beast hesitated too long. But also dangerous because it would take the commandos at least two seconds to drop the old man and raise weapons.
"Ghost," Hunter whispered, but the wolf didn't look. "Find it for me. Where is it?"
Ghost shifted his dark opaque gaze at—
Catapulting from the dark, a blurring shape tore a savage hole in foliage at the rear of the unit and struck like black lightning, a monstrous clawed hand sweeping out with the speed of a lion to hit Buck squarely, it seemed, in the chest. But Hunter saw more clearly what happened next — Buck's head torn from his shoulders — and knew the blow had been higher; head spinning back, long bright blood vessel trailing, eyes still alive — shocked — dead.
"Goddamn!" Taylor roared and turned as Riley frantically tried to raise his weapon. Then it hit him squarely, a taloned hand tearing away a large section of his ballistic vest to send the commando into stones where he vanished, boots high in the air.
Then it was on top of Taylor, who was already firing the semiauto shotgun at full-tilt. The creature staggered for an instant, then came on again, unstoppable and un-killable and hell-bent to finish them in one consuming attack. But Taylor didn't retreat an inch, roaring defiance as he fired.
It moved so fast in the next second that Hunter wasn't sure if Taylor was dead or alive, and then it was past the fire-scarred soldier, sweeping up the line and leaping to the side to avoid Takakura's dead-accurate machine-gun blaze before rebounding off the stone like an ape and barreling into Wilkenson, who was blasted far from the path, his rifle sailing high.
Gunfire lit the trees like lightning and Hunter couldn't see or hear in the blaze and chaos and screaming. He tried for a shot but Bobbi Jo was in the way so he jerk-stepped to the left, away from the stones, to fire from the hip and saw it smash into Takakura.
Firing wildly, Takakura ducked away with a desperate shout as the thing — incredibly both humanoid and beastlike and moving with the speed of a lion — lashed out. Takakura managed a last shot as he barely slid wide of the blow, and then it was on Bobbi Jo and Hunter together, smashing Bobbi Jo's rifle contemptuously to the side as it struck her a glancing swipe in the shoulder that hammered her hard to the ground.
Hunter fired point-blank and it twisted with a howl, coming over him. And in that single, unforgettable split-second Hunter met the deep blood-red eyes that blazed with bestial hate, a fanged mouth roaring with arms extended for a murderous embrace, and he twisted, striking it savagely across the face with the butt of the Marlin.
It didn't even seem to feel the pain, returning a backhand blow that hurled Hunter against a boulder, and then Hunter was fiercely angling and parrying to survive. With tigerish reflexes he had developed from a lifetime of deadly survival in the wild, Hunter narrowly evaded a half-dozen clawed blows that struck in one thunderous blur after another, each tearing sparks from the granite around him. Although the attack didn't last more than two seconds, Hunter had never read an oncoming attack so quickly, had never reacted with such perfect speed, balance, and perfect grace — a twist, an angled shoulder, a desperate duck — causing the monstrous hands to miss again and again by mere fractions of an inch.
Ghost, roaring demonically with rage, descended from a leap, landing fully on the thing's shoulder, white fangs flashing.
The next moment was chaos…Hunter seeing angry weapons raised… Ghost rending… the creature roaring, tearing savagely as it reached back to haul the great wolf forward…
Hunter leaped.
As Ghost came over its shoulder, heaved by the immeasurable strength, Hunter caught the wolf from the air and twisted, continuing down and away.
"Shoot it!" he bellowed.
Three weapons erupted in a wall of flame and Hunter wrestled Ghost viciously to the ground to save him from the hail of lead that poured over them both. Then Bobbi Jo gained a knee and, raising the Barrett, managed a single thunderous shot that lit the path with five feet of flame. The beast howled, twisting away from the stunning impact of the, 50-caliber round. Hunter saw it grab at an arm but not its chest.
He made it to his knees as it twisted away and Bobbi Jo wrestled the Barrett's recoil for a second shot. Bellowing and in obvious pain, the beast viciously smashed a wide branch cleanly asunder to gain entrance into the dense woods so close beside them.
"Get it!" Bobbi Jo exclaimed, enraged. "Get it now!"
Takakura reloaded a clip in the MP-5, his dark face glistening with sweat, electrified with rage. He was breathless and fought fiercely to regain a measure of composure.
"Did anyone wound it?" he shouted.
""I put ten slugs straight into that thing!" Taylor snarled as he vengefully inserted another full magazine into the shotgun. "But I ain't sure if they penetrated! I ain't never seen nuthin' move that fast!"
The Japanese commander said nothing, but turned and stared at Buck's headless body lying on the path. Slowly, he walked up and stood beside it, hesitating only a moment to check on the welfare of the professor. He gazed down for a time in heavy silence, then released a deep breath.
His face, unexpressive, contained a deadly element, like dark clouds cloaking a tornado that would soon be unleashed, and once unleashed would deliver death hard and without fear. Then his lips tightened, and calmly — too calmly — he bent and searched Buck's dead body for any evidence of the team. There was no need to search for dog-tags; they did not wear dog-tags on classified missions.