Riley headed for the chopper. The man from the tent was obviously torn between jumping on Riley for landing on top of them and confronting the woman, who apparently was his wife, about her little liaison in the woods.
"What did you say your name was again?" the balding little man asked as Riley brushed by him.
"Uh, that's Chief Ryan. R-Y-A-N, sir. I'm with the 101st Airborne Division at Fort Campbell."
Riley rapidly left the little man behind and jogged toward the bird, followed by Seay. They hopped on board and Riley grabbed his headset. "Let's get the hell out of Dodge, Captain."
"Roger that." Barret applied cyclic, pulled in collective, and the aircraft was airborne.
Riley was treated to the sound of Doc Seay laughing as the other man put on his headset. "Chief Ryan, huh? 101st, eh? You silver-tongued bastard. What was going on down there anyway?"
Riley allowed himself a laugh, too, now that they were out of there. "Looks like we caught a lady with someone who wasn't her husband, doing something she should have been doing only with her husband. I don't think they're going to be happy campers tonight."
It took them a minute or two to regain their composure, by which time the helicopter was about four kilometers away from the Werners' campsite.
"All right. Let's resume the pattern. Back to the thermals," Riley ordered.
Hapscomb could hear the angry hiss of the Werners arguing inside their tent. He felt a bit sorry for the little girl having to witness all that. He felt nothing but contempt for Mister Werner. The little worm hadn't even had the balls to confront him. After the helicopter lifted, Werner had simply grabbed his wife by the arm and dragged her over to their tent, completely ignoring Hapscomb.
What a wimp, Hapscomb thought. And what was going on with the army landing like that? The fellow wearing the funny-looking goggles had scared the living shit out of Hapscomb, especially when he pointed that M16 at them. The man looked like he was ready to blow them both away in a heartbeat.
Rabid animals, the soldier had said. That was a bunch of bullshit, too. They wouldn't call in the army for that. Sons of bitches had ruined a good piece of ass for him. Hapscomb pulled out his bota and took another drag. A great night ruined 'cause of some fucking army cowboys. He'd be damned lucky if Werner didn't complain to McClanahan and get his ass fired. Son of a bitch sure wouldn't —
Hapscomb's thoughts froze in place as he heard the horses whinny. His eyes narrowed as he looked over to the tree line where he had picketed them. In the dim starlight he could make out all four horses pulling tight against the picket line, straining to get away from the line of black that indicated the edge of the clearing.
What had spooked them? Hapscomb rolled off his sleeping pad and threw on a shirt. One of the horses starting bucking. Hapscomb broke into a jog to reach them.
He ran a hand along a quivering flank. "Whoa, girl, easy. Easy." He looked at the darkened forest that seemed to be the source of the horses' terror. What was out there? Hapscomb had heard old stories of an occasional bear in the area, but there hadn't been any spotted for the last ten years or so.
"What's the matter with them?" Mister Werner demanded as he strode angrily across the clearing, waving the flashlight.
"I don't know. Something's spooked them."
"Well, you'd better calm them down and let my wife and daughter get some sleep. You've caused enough trouble as it is."
Hapscomb wanted to laugh at the sight of the little bald man standing there, looking so righteous in his pajamas. At that moment, however, the horses swung around, catching Hapscomb off guard. They jumped to the left, pushing him out of the way.
Hapscomb looked to the right. Whatever was spooking the horses was moving around the outside of the clearing toward the tent. For the first time, Hapscomb felt a small knot of uneasiness begin to bind his guts. Something was wrong. He'd seen spooked horses before, but not like this. Whatever it was had to be damn close if it was moving that quickly around the camp.
Hapscomb forgot about his problems with Werner. He spoke tersely. "Mister Werner, I think it might be a good idea to get your wife and daughter out of the tent. We'll build up the fire a bit. I don't know what's got the horses all riled up, but I don't like it."
Werner, however, wasn't so quick to forget recent events. "You're just trying to make it seem like you know what you're doing — like you're protecting us to save your job. Don't think I'm not going to report what you did. Don't try to make a little scene here to — "
Hapscomb caught a brief glimpse of something — damned if he knew what it was — moving in the tree line, about fifty feet from the tent.
He ran past the flabbergasted Werner, yelling, "Mrs. Werner! Christie! Get out of the tent!"
As if his yelling was the cue, all hell broke loose. In the space of less than a second, several different facts registered on Hapscomb's various senses.
Two figures broke from the trees, making a beeline for the tent. They were about five and a half feet tall and ran with an unusually swift loping stride. Hapscomb caught a shadowy glimpse of them in the starlight and his heart froze. They had to be demons from hell.
Mrs. Werner stuck her head out of the tent and asked puzzledly, "What?" Mister Werner had started after Hapscomb, yelling, "You son of a bitch, what do you think — "
Hapscomb felt that time had slowed down. His brain was screaming at him to get to the tent, but it seemed as though he was running in slow motion. Mrs. Werner still hadn't spotted the two figures heading for her when, to Hapscomb's consternation, the figures turned and headed toward him. He screeched to a halt in the knee-high grass and switched direction. An old joke he'd once heard ran insanely through his mind as he reversed course: Two friends are camping and one comes racing back to camp yelling that he's being chased by a bear. As the man goes by, the friend asks: "Do you think you can outrun a bear?" The first man answers, "No, but I can outrun you."
Hapscomb glanced over his shoulder. Dear God, they were moving fast. They were only ten feet behind him when he passed Mister Werner.
Poor Werner never knew what hit him. One of the demons went high and the other low. Werner let out a surprised grunt from the impact of almost three hundred pounds of flesh. The grunt was replaced by the most terrifying scream Hapscomb had ever heard. He stopped and looked back. Werner's body made a few spastic jerks and then was still, one of the figures straddling the body, the other off to the side, all in the course of less than five seconds.
In the sudden quiet, Hapscomb's breathing sounded loud in his own ears. That sound was split by the scream of Mrs. Werner. At the noise, the two intruders swung their gaze over to the tent, where Mrs. Werner stood, her daughter beside her.
Oh sweet Lord! Hapscomb thought. Please help us. He wanted to yell at Mrs. Werner to shut up, but he was too scared. Any noise and they might head his way, and God knows he didn't want that.
As if on cue, the two figures swung away from Werner's body and casually loped toward Mrs. Werner and her daughter. They seemed to know that this new prey wasn't overly dangerous and they could take their time.
Distract them! one part of Hapscomb's mind screamed at him. Get the fuck out of here! the stronger, self-preservation side ordered. As quickly as he could, without attracting attention, Hapscomb sidled back toward the quivering horses. He kept his eyes on the scene being played out before him. It was like some bad horror movie, except that it was happening for real and he knew he was letting it happen.