Riley realized that he was bone tired of this type of operation. He wasn't sure he wanted to play this game anymore. None of that mattered now, though, not with three of the Synbats still loose.
The FM radio speaker came alive. "Ranger One, this is Four. Over."
Riley grabbed the handset. "This is One."
"We've found Ranger Two. Both dead. Their M16s are missing. Over."
Riley closed his eyes and leaned back against the rear of the turret. "Bring them to Search Base. Out." He let the handset slip from his fingers.
In the remaining van, Lewis had finally made contact with General Trollers over the secure SATCOM link. Lewis decided to get all the information out in one fell swoop and let Trollers pick over it.
"We've terminated one of the Synbats, sir. Doctor Ward was killed prior to that. I also lost four men. One of the helicopters from Campbell crashed and the pilot and copilot were killed. The crew chief was injured and is in stable condition right now. The Special Forces have lost two of their men."
There was a long pause. "What about the other three Synbats?"
"I don't know, sir. One of them was here and escaped, so they can't be too far away."
"Will you be able to track them down?"
Lewis rolled his eyes. The general was talking about looking for three animals in such a vast area that it was the proverbial needle in the haystack, except in this case the needle had the ability to turn around, prick the searcher, and then disappear again.
"Sir, the Synbats have weapons now — at least two M16s that we know of. It's war out here. We need to seal off the park."
"I have to run that one by the Old Man."
Lewis glanced at the clock on the wall of the van. "Sir, we need immediate help."
"I'll get things rolling. Out."
Lewis threw down the handset in disgust, bouncing it off the console.
The bulk of the Union and Confederate forces arrived during the day. More than eight hundred Civil War enthusiasts now crowded the fields to the west of the Wrangler Camp, cleaning gear, feeding horses, and swapping stories. Of the eight hundred, seventy were mounted; the rest would fight as infantry or artillery. The youngest participant was an eight-year-old drummer boy from the 8th New York. The oldest was the honorary ninety-one-year-old commander of the 6th Michigan.
In eight minutes they would form under their various battle flags; the blue across the north end of the main pasture and the gray symbolically across the southern end. After the muster, the two groups would spend an evening preparing for the mock battle that would commence the next day. Some units would march out this evening to assume their battle positions.
In the midst of blue ranks were Jeremiah and Louis Sattler. They had almost forgotten the events of the previous night, although Louis was a bit worried about Jeremiah's moodiness. But soon the reenactment would begin, and Louis was confident that it would shake his brother out of the funk he'd been in all day.
The dim echo of firing off to the east had been heard not too long ago. Louis wondered if firing from the ranges on Fort Campbell on the other side of Lake Barkley could carry this far. He didn't think so, but he couldn't come up with any other explanation for the sound of machine guns. He quickly forgot about it as the order was given to fall in.
Powers looked at the message one more time, preparing himself for the storm that was to come.
ZERO THREE ODA SIX EIGHT TWO XXX
SITREP XXX
TOTAL THIRTEEN DEAD MILITARY AND CIVILIAN XXX
KNUTZ AND TROY DEAD XXX
MONKEYS ARE GENETICALLY ALTERED CREATURES
CALLED SYNBATS XXX
SYNBATS ARMED AND CAN USE WEAPONS XXX
ONE SYNBAT KILLED THREE STILL LOOSE XXX
NEED HELP XXX
WILL MONITOR FM VOICE ON THREE SIX ZERO ZERO XX
THREE SIX ZERO ZERO XXX
FILL IN GROUP COMMANDER ON SITUATION XXX
AMIGO XXX
Powers couldn't believe what he had just read. He punched in the number for Colonel Hossey's office. The phone was picked up on the first ring.
Chapter 13
Knutz's and T-bone's bodies lay on the backseat of their humvee. Both men were smeared with mud and blood. Knutz's throat had been cleanly cut. T-bone had obviously had the opportunity to put up more of a fight. His face and arms were slashed, in addition to his throat. Knutz's pistol was still in its shoulder holster, indicating that he'd been taken unaware. T-bone's holster was empty.
"Knutz was caught underneath his vehicle," Bob Philips explained. "It was stuck in the mud and Top must have gone back there to try and push it out. We had to winch it out to get it off his body. T-bone was lying near the driver's door." Philips handed over a Beretta 9mm. "His pistol was in the mud next to him. No rounds fired."
Riley silently took the pistol and stuffed it into his pants cargo pocket.
"Both M16s were gone, along with their LBE."
"Cover them up," Riley ordered. "Trovinsky, I want you to move that humvee to cover approaches from the east, and man its fifty."
"Yes, sir."
"Bob, I want you to cover the south."
"Roger that, chief."
The rain had finally stopped, leaving a damp fog in its place. Riley walked to the van where Lewis was ensconced. He slid open the door without knocking and stepped in.
Lewis looked up as he spoke into the phone. His face was haggard. "I'll get back with you in a little bit." He hung up. "Mister Riley, I apologize about everything that has happened. I'm very sorry about the loss of your men."
Riley sat down and laid his M16 across his knees. He stared at Lewis for a long minute. The other men in the van were very quiet. Freeman was squirming in the corner, trying not to be noticed, a difficult thing for a man his size.
When Riley spoke, all emotion was out of his voice. "Tell me the truth now. What are those things?"
Lewis rubbed his eyes. "I really don't know what the Synbats are or what they're capable of." He held up a hand to forestall Riley's outburst. "No. Listen to me. I don't know. Probably the only person still alive who does know is Doctor Merrit, and I've got her on the way out here to brief us. I can tell you what they were supposed to do and how far along Doctor Ward reported they were. But other than that, you know as much as I do.
"What I told you earlier was mostly true. The Synbats are genetically altered creatures designed to be soldiers. But not just haulers of gear. They were supposed to be infantrymen. Grunts. Expendable ones. Ones that we could give a weapon to and send out, and not have a public outcry when they got killed. Not only that, they were supposed to be even better than the present infantryman. More aggressive. Stronger. Faster. More adaptable to harsh environments.
"It was a long-range project. You've seen what they can do now. In a few years they would have been even better."
Riley broke in. "What about the weapons? Where'd they learn to use them?"
"At the lab. We sent in some paramilitary folks to work with them. I know that Ward had them out at ranges on Fort Campbell a couple of times."
"How'd they control the animals to take them to the ranges?"
"Ward drugged them constantly, making them more complacent. We just found that out ourselves. The Synbats went to the range only a couple of times and were at a rudimentary level with the weapons."
"What other training have they received?"
"That's about it. The initial goal was to simply have them fire a rifle with a certain degree of accuracy."
"They've achieved that," Riley acknowledged sarcastically. "Do they know how to reload?"