James led them off, making for cover before the rest of the mass arrived. Soon they were in waist-high grass. They moved deep into the field and penetrated a grouping of thick trees that would shield their approach back to the chemical plant. Ducking into the trees, James spun around and covered the back trail as Rogers moved past them. He tossed Joe Dirt to the ground with a thud while the creature kicked and fought against its restraints.
Jacob looked down at the figure in disgust. “You all really think this is necessary? I hate being around these things.”
James backed up; then taking the tape from Jacob, he quietly peeled back the layers, using it to double up Joe Dirt’s bindings. He slowly removed the hood and checked the gag. The man looked back at them with solid-black eyes. No pupils to follow, it was hard to see what he was focused on, but they could all feel his stare. “Damn, bro, cover that shit back up,” Rogers said. “He’s about as ugly as your last girlfriend.”
James dropped the hood, pulling it down over Joe Dirt’s neck, then loosely applied a loop of tape to prevent it from falling off.
Rogers put up a hand to silence them. “The party has arrived.”
Jacob sat still in the thick brush, looking at the far away intersection. The main body had gathered, slowly pushed around the import car, and inspected their fallen hunter on the ground at the driver’s door.
“That was a good shot,” James said, watching the Deltas look down at their big boy. “You cracked the sucker’s grape wide open.”
“Thanks,” Jacob answered, keeping his eyes on the mass.
Rogers quietly hoisted Joe back to his shoulders and scuffed through the thicket in the direction of the chemical plant. James kept them in the tree line and tall grass, moving parallel to the access road. Then, as with their initial approach, they ran across the street and entered through the security gate, locking it behind them.
The sun was gone now; the tall chemical holding tanks cast dark shadows over the facility grounds. James moved them to the factory’s steel sides and shadowed them around to the open access door where a black tarp had been draped. James pulled it back, revealing a space lit with white light. He held the drape so Rogers and Jacob could pass through, and then dropped it.
“Found some emergency lighting,” Jesse said. “Batteries say seventy-two hours; should be plenty for the time we’re gonna be here.” Duke ran forward and locked up in a protective stance between the team and the bundled up Delta. Duke’s lips quivered as he let out a low growl.
“That’s what I’m talking about. You go, Duke,” James said, pointing at the dog. “I told you all I liked this dog.”
A chair was set up in the middle of the concrete floor, away from the break area. Lights were pointed at the chair with it flanked by the pallets of plastic drums. Marks pointed at Rogers, who still had the prisoner on his shoulders. “Put it over there.”
Duke followed Rogers to the chair, keeping his distance while panting and walking a wide circle nervously around the prisoner. Rogers sat the man in the chair then, using more of the tape, bound its legs to the chair’s legs. He did the same with the creature’s arms, cutting them away from its trunk and securing them tightly to the chair’s arms. When he was finished, he looked up at Marks. “It’s ready.”
“Any problems?”
“Nope; like we figured, they're getting predictable. Did you find the dioxin?”
Marks cocked his head to the side and pointed at a sealed five-gallon bucket and what looked like a spray bottle of window cleaner. Next to it were two dark-blue strips of test paper. “Right where Jacob said it would be; a bit of a pain getting it out of the tanks, but damn, the shit tested positive.”
Marks edged closer to the creature and removed its hood. He stepped back, looking it over. “It sure is ugly.” The creature was fully developed. The forehead thick and protruding, scales went from below the neck of its T-shirt, up under its chin and to the sides of its ears.
“So Stephens, you’ve caught one of these before?” Marks asked, not taking his eyes off the creature. Its head now shifting side to side, examining the men in the room.
“Yeah, back at the start of this, but it wasn’t at this stage yet; didn’t have the snake skin.”
“And tell me again what happened.”
Stephens moved closer and approached the captive Delta. “Well, we tackled it and brought it back to base. But like I said, it was far less developed, none of this nasty snake shit growing on it. We brought him to the doc. But the thing just kicked and screamed; there was no calming it down. Doc tried a sedative, but it had no effect on it. We still thought they were just sick, and maybe we could fix it.
“Had to keep it gagged because it wouldn’t stop screaming or fighting with us. We strapped the thing to a gurney and put it in a jail cell, but by morning, the thing was dead—all dried up.”
Rogers nodded. “Well, this one seems pretty damn calm. I mean he ain’t struggling no more. Kinda seems to be studying us. You think it can talk?”
Stephens shook his head. “I don’t think so; no reason for them to.”
“Not yet,” James laughed, pointing at the five-gallon bucket. “Ain’t no reason yet.”
The lieutenant nodded and strolled across the room toward the bucket. He put on a long, black rubber apron and a pair of long black gloves before picking up the spray bottle. He moved back to the creature. “According to the information
