He started to speak, but before a complete word escaped his mouth, another screech erupted.
This one was much closer. It stabbed Hatcher’s ears, caused him to flinch. He looked up just in time to see a creature diving straight down, ballistic, traveling at something close to terminal velocity.
Garza raised his head just as the thing smashed into him, the sound of bones snapping and crunching clearly audible even in Hatcher’s ringing ears. The man’s body compressed into a misshapen sack, numerous splintered pieces held together by skin and cloth.
The thing screeched again, a full-throated scream. It was a shimmering shade of black, almost glossy. It stood over Garza’s mangled body, stomping a taloned foot onto his chest and spreading its wings. The first thing that struck Hatcher was its size. Enormous, at least eight-feet tall, a wingspan that had to be more than twice that. It had an elongated head, something almost bat-like, but round and protruding downward, shaped like a mule’s. Its wings were leathery and it had four clawed fingers curving out at the apex of each. It looked straight at Hatcher, eyes ablaze with a crimson glow.
Zorn had been the closest. The creature’s dive had caught him by surprise and he dove to the side, rolling a few times to gain distance, and was now popping off rounds. Ivy was doing the same, having dropped his first-aid kit and swung his weapon off his shoulder.
The thing hissed and raised its wing, using the upper part as a shield, then seemed to collapse into itself, forming a tight ball over Garza’s body. Hatcher could almost feel it coming, sense the tension coiling, ready to explode.
“Get down!”
Hatcher dove at Ivy, tackling him just as the creature spun out of its curl, the thing spiraling so fast it was barely more than a blur. Garza’s skull rocketed past, smashing Woodley in the shoulder and knocking him to the ground.
The creature dropped back onto its feet, grabbed what remained of Garza’s corpse in its talons, and leaped into the air. Hatcher felt two powerful flaps of its wings, the gusts forcing him to blink, and when he looked it had cleared the trees and soared into open sky.
Hatcher pulled himself off of Ivy. The man sat up, peered up into the gloaming and dusted himself off.
“Ho. Lee. Shit.”
Pushing himself to his feet, Hatcher looked back at Woodley. The man was holding his shoulder, rolling his arm forward and back. He shook his head and waved Hatcher off. Garza’s head lay wedged against a clump of grass a few feet away, mouth open, eyes dead slits.
“Little help!”
Zorn was cradling his abdomen. Hatcher glanced at Ivy, who nodded and picked up his first aid kit. He was a few steps behind when Hatcher reached the man.
“Wouldn’t you know it,” Zorn said, coughing. He pulled his arm away from his stomach. “Boned by a teammate.”
Ivy sucked in a loud breath through his teeth. Hatcher felt himself wince.
Three bones, what looked like ribs, protruded from Zorn’s midsection. Flesh and muscle and connective tissue still hung in clumps from each. They seemed joined at a piece of breast bone.
“Can you remove them?”
“Not without a risk of him bleeding out.”
Zorn coughed again. “Right here, guys.”
Ivy turned to set down the first-aid kit and retrieve dressing material from it. Under his breath he said, “He needs an OR, Hatcher.”
Hatcher gave a curt nod. “Want to prove what a tough son of a bitch you are, soldier?”
“Not especially,” Zorn said, his voice rough, rasping. “Is there a pussy option?”
“We need to get you out of here. Not to mention, us. Think you can move without slicing any vital organs?”
“Maybe. If you got some good junk for me to shoot up. Hurts like a bitch, man.”
Hatcher glanced at Ivy. “What about it?”
“I might be able to dose him enough to help without knocking him out.”
Hatcher tipped his head back, searching the sky. Then he cut his gaze to Woodley.
“How far’s the extraction point?”
“Thirty clicks or so west. But not for another twelve hours.”
“Failsafe?”
“No. Complete disavowal, remember? No radio contact, no homing. We show up. Or not. Failing that, same as you were told. The embassy.”
“Yeah, in Zambia. How far is that? Fifty miles? A hundred?”
“What do you want me to say? I’m in the same boat you are. Our only known contact was Mbuyi. And he took off to drive the hostage across the border. We just have to make it through the night.”
“Yeah, but in order to do that, we have to get as far away from here as possible. So, we need to get to the vehicles and not waste any more time arguing about it.”
“Look, Hatcher, I know you’re pissed. I don’t blame you. Really, I don’t. But don’t you think our best bet is to do what we came here to do and kill that thing?”
“You mean, what you came here to do. I came here to rescue a hostage, remember?”
“Still, it caught us by surprise, that’s all. We have RPGs in the floor of the Hummer, for crying out loud. If we just prepared—”
“The answer is no. We have one KIA — our sniper, at that — and another down in need of urgent medical attention. And I have no doubt whatever it was could have taken us all out right then if it had really wanted to.”
Woodley gave him a skeptical look, brows cinched. “Then why didn’t it?”
Hatcher didn’t respond. He looked down at Zorn, who gave him a weak thumbs up as Ivy administered a syringe, slowly depressing the plunger.
“What do we have for transportation? Same as before?”
“Yes. Plus what they brought you in.”
The words seemed to echo in Hatcher’s head for a moment. Something shifted in his head, revealing a new question.
“You never answered my question. Why?”
Woodley shook his head, frowning. “I told you. The brass figured they’d take you to where it nests or hangs out or whatever.”
“No, I mean, why do they want us to kill this thing? Please don’t expect me to believe they care about the plight of some third-world poverty hole, because they don’t.”
“What can I say?” Woodley said, shrugging. “Above my pay grade.”
“You’re lying. I can see it in the direction your eyes moved before you answered, in the timing of the shrug as you spoke, in the way your lids hooded as the words passed your lips, and in the way you curled those same lips back over your teeth, as if to bite them closed and stop more lies from coming out.”
Woodley shook his head, grunting an exasperated puff of air as he tossed his arms up.
“And despite being a fucking idiot, you’re not stupid. You would have asked these same questions, demanded answers. And you did. So quit holding back and tell me everything.”
The man sucked in a deep breath, held it as he searched the ground, then let it out, his body deflating some.
“Cliché as it sounds, it’s classified.”
“Is it vital enough to national security that you’re willing to endure broken arms and missing teeth? Because I wouldn’t bank on me being above all that if I were you.”
Ivy stood, took a step closer. “Answer the damn question, Woodley.”
Seconds passed as the man’s gaze volleyed back and forth, Hatcher to Ivy to Hatcher. His eyes lingered on Hatcher for a long moment, then he lowered them, thinking.
“Helium,” he said.
Zorn let out a laugh, a rummy, drug-induced chuckle.
“What does that even mean?” Hatcher said.
“Apparently, the world only has a finite supply. Who fucking knew, right? All kinds of high-tech shit uses tons of the stuff. But it doesn’t exist everywhere, and supplies have been starting to run low, low enough some places have banned party balloons and that kind of crap. Then they recently found a huge cache of it in Tanzania, enough to supply everyone for a few more years. But not forever. The shortage got a lot of people spooked.”