“We’ll let them know when we see them.” Reynolds nodded toward a stainless-steel door at the back of the room. “Hold up on that. O’Neil, Tate, take that walk-in.”
O’Neil positioned himself outside the walk-in cooler with Tate.
“If we got one more surprise in this place…” O’Neil started, letting the words trail off.
He nodded at Tate. The door opened.
Moldy meat covered a stainless-steel table and the shelves at the rear of the room. In one corner, he saw a pile of blankets. A person huddled beneath them.
But the person didn’t so much as look up at them. Didn’t move at all. Maggots crawled over their flesh, squirming from their eye sockets and nostrils, their flesh dark black.
“Shit,” Tate said. “Walk-in clear. One dead. Probably for a good month or more.”
O’Neil lowered his rifle, and the team made their way out of the kitchen into the dining room where Delta and Charlie were. There were a handful of dead Skull bodies in the corner. Freshly dead, judging by the blood leaking from their chest wounds.
But nothing compared to the horde Alpha and Bravo had faced in the storage room.
“All clear,” Reynolds said. “I’d say we can start cleaning some of this mess up for the Rangers, but I think we’ve done the hard work. Got to leave something for them when they get here.”
“Amen to that,” Van said.
“Command, Alpha Actual,” Reynolds called over the radio. “Target Victor Juliette is secure. I repeat, Victor Juliette is secure.”
“Copy that,” a comm officer’s voice replied. “Flight en route with the Romeos.”
“Let’s get topside and keep the place clear,” Reynolds said. “I don’t want any—”
The floorboards above them creaked. Sounded as if someone was taking slow, deliberate steps in the hotel lobby.
“Son of a bitch,” Tate whispered. “They just never stop.”
-18-
O’Neil volunteered to take Bravo up to investigate via the main stairs leading to the villa’s lobby. Reynolds took Henderson and Stuart toward the stairs they had taken to the storage room. Delta and Charlie split up to provide support for the two teams.
Soon as O’Neil made it up, he aimed his rifle through the darkness toward where they had heard the footsteps. He could see a shape moving in the dark down the corridor, headed straight toward Alpha’s position.
O’Neil stepped out as quietly as he could, doing his best to control his breathing. The person or Skull or whatever he saw moving toward the other stairway appeared to be trying to be just as discreet. That told him he was at least not facing one of the normal Skulls—not a rabid aggressive monster like they had just faced.
His target paused against the wall, and now that he was close enough to see clearly down the hall, he could make out the AK-47 that the person carried. He saw no signs this person was infected either. They wore what appeared to be hiking pants and a jacket. Looked to be a man with a long beard. O’Neil thought he could even hear the man breathing heavily. Like he was nervous. Scared.
Was this an RAMF soldier on his own? A scout maybe?
Might even be a Russian recon soldier.
He wasn’t sure, but he did know he had a lot of questions. And this guy, who had conveniently showed up, might have answers.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that the guy just rolled into the villa after they’d torn through a pack of wild Skulls.
Hell, maybe this was a trap. Maybe this guy had set them up.
He strode toward the man, rifle aimed at the guy’s chest.
“Put your weapon down,” he said.
The man jumped, then froze, turning toward O’Neil, the rifle still in his hand.
O’Neil’s finger shot toward his trigger. “Put your weapon down!”
The man backed up against the wall, mouth moving, but saying nothing.
O’Neil started to squeeze the trigger. But just before he was about to fire, the guy dropped his rifle, raising his hands high.
“Tate, Loeb, Van, secure him! Now!”
O’Neil never moved, keeping his rifle trained on the guy. Daring him to make a move.
“Am… Am… Am…” the guy mumbled as the SEALs swarmed him, pushing him to the ground, kicking his rifle toward O’Neil, and securing the guy’s wrists behind his back with flexicuffs.
Van patted him down, removing a pair of magazines and pistol that had been stowed in the guy’s waistband. Without his weapons, he looked like nothing but a lost beggar.
“Found a mover,” O’Neil called over the comms. “Target is secure.”
“Copy that,” Reynolds said. “We’re going to make another sweep.”
Van and Loeb pressed the guy against the wall, keeping him in a seated position.
“You come alone?” O’Neil asked.
“Am… Am…. Americans,” the man finally said as if his brain had come unlocked. “Americans. I did not think you would be here.”
His English came out with a thick Moroccan accent, but it was clear enough for O’Neil to understand.
“Yeah, we’re here,” O’Neil said. “And you understand the words coming out of my mouth, right?”
The man nodded enthusiastically. “I can understand very well. Yes, I can understand. Please, my friend, I did not come to hurt you.”
“What’s your name?” O’Neil demanded.
“Khalid. Please, I am a friend. I promise.”
“You came in with weapons. Not very friendly.”
Khalid’s eyes went wide, brows arched. “You have faced the djinn. How would I go anywhere without weapons?”
“Djinn?” Tate asked.
“The demon creatures.”
“News for you,” Van said, “they’re not demons. They’re completely Earthborn.”
“I know this,” Khalid said. “We call them djinn. What else would you call them?”
“Skulls,” O’Neil said. “I’m interested in hearing what the Russians say.”
“The Russians?”
“Come on. Don’t play dumb.”
“Look, I know where the Russians are. We have seen them. But we don’t talk to them.”
“Why?” O’Neil asked.
Before Khalid could answer, footsteps sounded behind them. O’Neil turned to see Reynolds striding his way. “Stuart and Henderson are posted up. No more movers lurking around here. Seems like he did in fact come alone.” He paused in front of Khalid, looking down at the bearded man. “What are we going to do with you?”
Khalid’s bottom lip trembled. “Are you taking me prisoner?”
“Should we?” Reynolds asked.
“I am not… I was telling this man I am your friend. We all are.”
“’We?’” O’Neil asked. “Who’s ‘we?’”
“I will tell you everything, my friends,” Khalid said. “I will be honest. I swear by Allah, I will tell you everything I know.”
“You believe this guy?” Reynolds asked O’Neil.
Khalid watched them intently, eyes darting between O’Neil and Reynolds.
O’Neil shrugged. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”
Khalid shifted, leaning forward. Van and Loeb aimed their rifles at him. “Thank you, my friend. That is all I ask.”
“Go on then,” Reynolds said, looking at his watch. “We’ll have visitors very soon that will be more than happy to take care of you if we don’t like your story.”
“Yes, yes, where do I begin? With the outbreak? With the fall of Tangier? With—”
“Tell us why you’re here first,” O’Neil said.
Khalid seemed to calm down. He spoke more slowly now that he seemed to understand they weren’t simply going to put a bullet through him and throw him back outside. “There is a small group that I belong to.”
“Military?” Reynolds asked.