The bird had been alive when he'd found it, and he had put it up with the others, driving a nail through its breast. He named it Jesus because it lasted so long. It lasted three days, struggling and screeching there against the rock. Hans had watched it for hours. Unlike the others, it didn't seem to tire and give up. It just beat its little wings and kicked and kicked until the third day, when it finally keeled over and died.
Hans had never been down into the laboratories at the base, but he thought maybe they had more birds like this one. He'd heard the Slimy Things in the crater had something to do with it. A lot of the soldiers were afraid of the Slimy Things, but not him. He'd almost touched one, once. When he first came to the crater, Hans remembered walking beneath one, reaching a finger up to stroke it. The flesh of the thing had parted just beyond the reach of his fingernail, revealing a cleft in the tissue. How strange it was. It looked like a man's thing, but it had parted for him like a woman's. He had yanked his finger away, then. He remembered his mother telling him how dirty women's things were, and that they carried diseases. He wasn't afraid exactly, but he didn't want any diseases.
That cleft had been so strange. He wondered what would happen if he could plant an explosive in one of those things. Not a big boomer like a grenade, but something like a firecracker. He had collected quite a lot of explosives over the past few weeks. He was pretty sure no one would ever find them, either. They were buried beneath a group of loose rocks in the corner. Hans had done similar things when he had lived at home with his mother, and no one had ever found those. The explosives you could get in the army, however, were much better than the ones you could get as a kid. It made him giddy to think how much fun he could have.
Boris didn't know about the stash. Hans had only brought out little bits at a time, like when they'd made that penguin bomb. He was smart enough to know that Boris had certain rules, and stealing from the army might break one of those rules, even if it was in the name of good fun.
So far, he had only had fun with the animals. Maybe he would try people soon.
Yesterday aside, Boris had been a good person friend. Hans didn't have many person friends. Maybe they would pee together outside again, and Boris would let him see his thing. He'd been meaning to ask, but it always seemed to slip his mind. They had been getting sauced a lot.
Hans walked back to the entrance to the cave and stepped out into the open air. It was hard to tell how late it was, but he would have to get back soon.
Stepping up the path, he paused to climb over a hill so that he could see the crater. It never ceased to amaze. He put his toes over the gap and looked down into the darkness. Hans felt no fear. It was actually kind of inviting. Then, he heard a truck start up over by the base, and several men shouted over the whine of the engine. If it was getting busy, Zimmer might be looking for him. He'd have to go back.
Sighing, he removed his feet from the edge. Not today. But soon, maybe he'd find out what was down there. Or somebody would.
Chapter 15: Cold Day in Hell
1
“Come in Delta. This is Alpha team leader. Please respond, over.” He paused. “Delta team… goddammit Reiner, where are you?”
Mason was half a second away from ripping the mic out of the console, but he stopped and threw it to the floor of the chopper instead. He thought he had come to terms with Reiner's disappearance on the island, but now back on the rig, the unreality of it hit him again. He'd had men die on him before, but he'd never had one up and disappear. Still, not a single fucking answer to be found.
While he and Vy had been at the island, the rest of the team had rounded up the bodies on the platform. Not counting the Argentinian military, there were sixteen. Sixteen workers out of two hundred and thirty-eight. That didn't jive with what their contact had told him. It didn't jive with the level of damage here. It didn't make any goddamned sense at all.
He swung his feet out onto the helipad and saw it had gotten darker. Another few hours, and the sun would be setting for the first time in months.
Hal was waiting for him outside. “What do you want to do?”
Mason grabbed the man's mouth, fished inside, and pulled out his gum. He threw it to the ground. “Get in the goddamned chopper, McHalister.”
The pilot frowned.
“Now!” Mason screamed.
Hal crawled into the S-70 and took the pilot's seat, knowing better than to speak another word. Mason didn't want to hit him; he wanted to hit Reiner. He'd given the man a simple set of orders: scout the perimeter, investigate the island, return to the platform and offer air support as they secured the upper decks. He'd been dependable for years, and now… now, he was just gone.
Nothing about this mission made a goddamned lick of sense.
“Maybe it's not that bad, sir.” The new kid was hobbling towards him, bent over a crutch Melvin had made him out of scrap metal.
“What's that, Worsch?”
“Maybe it does make sense, and we're just not seeing it.”
Mason grunted. He'd either spoken aloud without realizing it, or the expression on his face said it all. It wasn't like him to start slipping.
“Maybe the workers aren't dead. Maybe they got into the boats, evacuated the facility, and drifted out to sea. I mean, if they're not here and they're not at the island, it's the only thing that makes sense.”
“And Reiner?” Mason asked.
“I don't know. Maybe he landed somewhere you guys couldn't get to on foot. The radios still aren't working.”
“Kid ain't dumb,” Melvin said, coming over to stand by the chopper. “But you ask me, I think it'll be a cold day in hell before we find out what happened to that fool.”
Nick shrugged. “At least we're all secure here. What did you do with our guests, anyways? I haven't seen Kate or our football buddy since you guys came up.”
Mason looked at Melvin, and Melvin shrugged. Did Black Shadow really not tell this twerp their plans when they brought him in? Christ, their leadership was going to Hell in a hand basket.
He was saved an explanation by Hal, who had deemed it safe to speak again. The man returned to the bay of the helicopter. “Well, we got one bird that does work. And if you gentlemen don't mind, I'd like to run a systems check on her before we light out.” Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by the sound of an approaching engine. He stuck his head to the windshield, his eyes fixed on the approaching object. “I'll be goddamned.”
Five seconds later, he was dead.
2
Peter gleeked another strand of tobacco across the drilling equipment, and it landed all of the way on the other side. He grinned. He had, after all, been practicing since he was twelve.
“Got any more of that stuff?” Christian asked.
“No more whacky tobacky, man. But I got something else for you.” He produced a pill, round and orange, and held it up for inspection. “I was saving this for when we had the all clear, but I guess this is as good as it's going to get. You want one?”
The other man shook his head.
Peter shrugged and popped the thing into his mouth. He bit down hard, letting it split down the middle. The sensation hit his teeth first like it always did, running ice across his gums. He swallowed.
Shivered.
Laughed.
“Oh-doggy!” he yelled. The yellow gold was good stuff.
Christian sighed, settling back down on the box he was sitting on. Peter slapped him on the shoulder. He liked Christian. Melvin would have have lectured him, or at the very least given him shit for calling his dip the whacky tobacky. “Whacky tobacky means it has weed in it, motherfucker,” he'd told him. “You as dumb as you look, you know that?” That always made Peter laugh, and it got Melvin madder than hell. But Christian didn't say much. He was laid back. Cool, man.