He panned the sky, then swept his head around. Nothing.
“Gone,” Ivy said. “It just pointed itself up and shot like a missile! Never seen anything like it. I mean, damn.”
Hatcher looked at Woodley’s body. He lowered his head to see the piece of Woodley’s face on the ground.
“How far to the vehicles from here?”
“Click, click and a half. We were just behind your convoy. This should take us right to them, more or less.”
“Not us. I’m going to draw it away,” Hatcher said, heading to where Woodley lay.
“What? No. We should stick together. I can’t handle him myself.”
Zorn laughed, then gagged for a few seconds. “Too much man for you,” he mumbled.
“You can if you’re not being attacked. Look, I think it’s me it wants. I also think it’s going to pick everyone else off one at a time until it gets me. Unless I can draw it away and it thinks I’m alone.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t. Don’t ask me to explain. There’s no time, and I really don’t have much of an explanation to offer. I want you take him back to where you found me. Just stay there. Hunker down for about an hour. And do what you can to keep him alive in the process. If I’m the only one headed for the vehicles, it may think I’m trying to escape and come after me.”
“What if it doesn’t follow you?”
Hatcher inhaled deeply, surveyed the sky for a moment. “If I’m wrong, we’re probably all dead anyway. That thing can pick us off whenever it wants. But I’m pretty sure I’m the one it’s really after.”
“And if you’re right? What are you supposed to do if it does come after you? If you don’t make it to the Hummer?”
“What I was brought here to do, whatever that is. Don’t try to understand, just go.”
Ivy shook his head, then nodded. He hooked Zorn’s arm over his neck and started to move back the way they’d come, sidestepping past Woodley’s corpse. Hatcher watched for a moment, then checked Woodley’s pocket’s for magazines. He rolled the body over and could see Woodley’s face in the greenish monochrome, part of it missing, the face of someone unmasked while straining an organ in the catacombs of an opera house.
A quick calculation of rounds told him he had a hundred and twenty. But part of him was certain for any of them to do any good, he’d have to be up close, practically shoving the barrel in the thing’s mouth. It had already absorbed a couple of dozen hits, at least. Its leathery hide must have been as thick as an elephant’s. There wasn’t much doubt its wings were strong enough to handle high velocity rounds. It left him wondering if there was anything they couldn’t handle.
He stared down the makeshift trail until Ivy and Zorn were out of sight.
“All right,” he said, his voice loud but not overly so. Anything louder than necessary would come across as baiting. At least, that was what his gut told him. “Here’s your chance.”
He let out a breath and broke into a run. The NVDs kept the terrain visible, and he was able to move at a double-time pace. He kept his rifle up, stopping every few dozen yards to sweep the sky to his rear with the barrel, controlling his breathing, listening, watching, watching, listening.
Minutes passed. He had to have traveled over a kilometer. Run stop sweep, run stop sweep. Nothing but eerie glowing jungle with a pitch background to all sides. No choice but to keep moving.
A break in the foliage seemed to jump in front of him. Dirt road. Nothing visible in either direction. He headed to the right, more of a sprint now. Nothing. He was about to turn around when something came into view, a bright monochromatic outline around a curve.
The back of a truck. He recognized it as he drew closer. The one he’d arrived in, with the grappling hook launcher in the rear. He should have turned left. He’d practically come full circle.
He stopped and scanned the sky, swept the dense cluster of forest to each side. His thoughts turned to Ivy, Zorn. For all he knew, they were already dead, or in the process of being dismembered. There was no way to be sure.
But he didn’t believe it. He had to be the target.
He jumped in the truck, placing the rifle across his lap. Keys were in the ignition. He closed his eyes and breathed a grateful sigh.
What if you’re wrong?
No. He shook the thought from his head. He’d been through too much, seen too much, not to know. He was the one it wanted. It wouldn’t just let him go.
But what if you’re wrong?
The truck started on the third try. He pulled off his NVDs and turned on the headlights. He shifted into reverse, then drive, then reverse, using all of a seven-point turn to get it aimed in the opposite direction. He maneuvered past the other vehicles, then gunned the engine and bounced down the dirt road.
What if you’re wrong?
He made it a couple of hundred yards before the headlights reflected off more vehicles. The team’s, he realized. A Hummer and a safari truck. They were pulled slightly to the left, probably to hug the tree line. He could tell they had stopped here to follow him on foot, laying back far enough not to be noticed.
Hatcher slowed the truck, squeezed it by the two vehicles. The road was narrower at this spot. Branches drummed and scraped on the passenger side, a shriek of metal on metal erupted on the right as it side swiped the Hummer.
He was just past the second vehicle and starting to accelerate when something slammed into the roof of the truck, caving it halfway in. The truck swerved. He was barely able to correct it before there was a second hit, this one smashing the windshield and causing him to veer off into the bush. One wheel of the truck jumped a felled trunk and popped it onto its side.
Seconds passed. He braced himself for another impact. Nothing.
Goggles, weapon.
He turned off the headlights, then climbed out through the driver’s side window, jumping to the ground. He adjusted his NVDs, tilted and swiveled his head in every direction.
There it was. Circling overhead. It started to form a tighter and tighter gyre, centered on Hatcher, spiraling downward.
Holy shit.
Through the night vision, he could see what Ivy was talking about. The creature didn’t look like some giant bat anymore, not exactly. It seemed to have the same form at its core, but its skull was long and hooked, with enormous horns curving into sharp points. Surrounding its body was a burst of snake-like appendages, tentacling outwards and writhing like antennae.
We even have RPGs in floor of the Hummer.
Hatcher launched himself into a low sprint. He looked up as his fingers hooked the latch on the Hummer’s door to see the creature in a dive bomb, wings swept back, rocketing toward him. Before he could get the door open, it flared, slamming its feet into the vehicle, talons digging into the roof. Hatcher felt the latch rip from his hand as the Hummer jumped into the air. With two slaps of its wings the thing lifted the entire carriage off the ground, a feat Hatcher could barely believe he was witnessing. Another flap, then another, until the wheels were fifteen feet over Hatcher’s head.
Hatcher snapped the M4 up, let out three bursts, followed by three more. Aiming was difficult, but he tried, picking areas to target rather than spots. The creature let go and Hatcher flung himself out of the way as the vehicle slammed onto the patch of road, part of it crunching the back of the safari truck, causing the front wheels to pop up and jounce back down.
The thing soared higher, then started to spiral into a dive.
The wings. It didn’t like getting hit in the wings.
In the UV glow of NVDs, Hatcher could see a difference between the upper wings, which seemed to be stiff, flattened arms with joints, and the lower parts, which were flexible, like leather sails. He pictured the way it had curled itself into a ball, using its arms as shields. It wasn’t just protecting its body, it was protecting the soft parts of its wings.