He counted heads and realized that’s lost five men during the conflict. That still left seven gunmen and McIness, more than enough for the job that needed doing… assuming there weren’t more of these monsters to deal with.
“What the hell was that thing?” McIness asked, brushing himself off. His face looked burned where the acid had touched it and the fool was smearing it around while attempting to wipe it away.
“Olaf, give him your canteen. You need to wash the poison away, Herr McIness.” Prometheus turned back to the spider and nudged its shriveled carcass with a boot. “This is proof that we are on the right track, I think. I can’t imagine that this thing is natural.”
“What if there’s more of them?” Olaf asked, tossing his canteen to McIness. “Maybe we should go back for more guns… or more men.”
Prometheus whirled on the man, arms extended. From the tubes connected to both his gauntlets streamed forth twin waves of fire. Olaf was engulfed in the inferno, his agonized howls silencing the birds and insects. Olaf took off screaming into the jungle, his entire body aflame.
Schmidt calmly regarded the rest of his men. “Anyone else want to turn back?”
A soft murmuring of negatives soothed Schmidt and the German resumed the march, McIness at his side.
“What’s wrong?” Schmidt asked. “Are you turning coward, too?”
“No. It’s just… Maybe there’s going to be more traps up ahead. There must be some reason why the guys at the Project didn’t just return here to look for more supplies.”
Prometheus had thought about that same thing. His suspicions were that the agency had somehow lost the exact coordinates but it was possible that they’d destroyed everything in their wake, so there would be nothing to come back for. If it were the latter, this entire trip would be a wasted expense. But he had to hope that there was something still out there, something that he could claim for his own.
Lazarus Gray landed his plane alongside the one belonging to Maxwell Schmidt. There had been a pilot onboard the other craft but Morgan and Eun had dragged the fellow out to the jungle floor. After a few threats of physical violence, the man had confirmed the direction that Schmidt and his men had gone in. Morgan had then trussed up the pilot and gagged him, throwing him into the hold of the Assistance Unlimited aircraft.
Lazarus stared into the heart of the jungle, aware that his aides were packing for the journey. He didn’t bother checking on their actions: each of them was fully capable of taking care of any situation. He trusted each of them with all his heart and soul.
The Black Terror joined him. “It’s somewhere up there,” he said, pointing towards a rising mountain. “Not all that far, really. There’s no way we’re going to beat them to the Indui village.”
“We don’t have to beat them there. We just have to prevent them from leaving.” Lazarus turned to the others. “I want some of you to stay behind in case they return. They’re going to see our plane but there’s not much we can do about that — this is the only spot we could have landed for miles around.”
Abby grinned. “Lazarus, I’m hurt. Did you forget about little ol’ me?”
In response to her employer’s questioning stare, the buxom brunette raised her hands into the air, her full lips moving softly. She spoke something that sounded like Latin but wasn’t. Within seconds, a thick fog had begun to surround the area. Both planes and all those standing around them were now hidden from sight.
Samantha burst out in applause and Abby made a flourish with her right hand and took a bow.
“Nice work,” Lazarus said. “It’s still taking some time to get used to your abilities. I don’t want us to become complacent, expecting you to handle everything… but it’s a definite advantage having you on our side.”
Abby blushed a bit and nodded. She admired Lazarus greatly and though she didn’t carry a torch for him the way Samantha was rumored to, she appreciated his praise.
Lazarus began barking out orders and the people under him jumped to comply. Though no one liked to be left behind, they all understood that every role was important. “Morgan, please stay here with Abby and Eun. Jakob, Samantha and The Terror will come with me.”
The Black Terror leaned in close, whispering. “We don’t know how many men Schmidt may have brought with him. Are you sure that the four of us will be enough?”
“You’re strong enough to handle a half dozen men all on your own,” Lazarus answered. “And I’d wager that any of us could do the same, though with different styles. We’ll be fine. Besides, four of us are more likely to sneak up on Schmidt’s crew than seven would be.”
Eun tapped the small radio that he wore. It was hidden in his right ear; tiny enough to avoid being seen in most cases but powerful enough to connect members of Assistance Unlimited over enormous distances, depending upon weather and the layout of the land. “We’ll be listening for you, Chief.”
“Good.” Lazarus headed off into the jungle. The Black Terror, Jakob and Samantha followed single-file, each of them casting wary eyes at the dense vegetation. For all they knew, Schmidt had left behind someone for an ambush, so all were on high alert.
They had been traveling for just over fifteen minutes when they heard a ragged cry from ahead. All of them froze in place. Each of them was armed with both pistols and knives and they drew whichever weapon they felt most comfortable with: for the men, it was pistols but Samantha favored the cold steel of her knife.
A flaming figure bolted from the jungle, his arms waving spasmodically. He tripped and fell just shy of Lazarus, tumbling down the hill. Lazarus was quickly in action, ripping off his shirt, sending buttons flying. He wrapped up the burned man, patting him down until the flames were out.
From the sickening odor that hung in the air and the smoke that tumbled off the man’s body, Samantha knew it was too late. She covered her mouth and nose to avoid retching.
Lazarus pulled away his ruined shirt, tossing it aside. Jakob joined him in examining the dead man. He was too badly burned for any kind of visual identification and all of his belongings had been reduced to ash.
“Prometheus did that,” The Black Terror murmured. He was staring off in the direction that the burning man had come. “I’d bet my dollar on it.”
Lazarus stood up, his impassive face showing no reaction to the dead body before him. His eyes, however, shone with fury — death in any form disturbed him greatly, especially when it could have been avoided.
“We can’t be far behind them,” he said. “If we hurry, we might catch up to them before they can finish their business in the village.”
Sporrenberg quickly followed his employer into the jungle, but his eyes strayed back to the burned corpse behind them. He knew how Lazarus felt about killing but he was a former soldier and had no such qualms. In fact, he thought it was the only real way to deal with madmen like Schmidt. When the time came, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill his fellow German.
And Lazarus Gray would simply have to deal with that.
Chapter V
Village of Blood and Death
“This is it. I’m sure of it.”
Prometheus stared at the splintered remains of a half dozen tents and what was once a fire pit… and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment. “Are you sure?”
McIness moved through the dusty paths and nodded. “Yes. I can feel it in my bones. This is where the Indui lived.”
Schmidt reached up and unsnapped the bolts that held his helmet in place. He pulled it off, exposing his sweaty features to the air. Gesturing to his men, he said, “Look around. See if you can find anything that appears useful.”