compressed skin.
The creature moved to the next man and crushed his neck in the same manner, careful not to spill any fluids or cause any damage to the surroundings. The tissue ruptured slightly and it was forced to bring its mouth down to the blood that was seeping from the split in the crushed skin. The flow subsided quickly as the heart stopped pumping and the blood settled in the man’s lower extremities. The creature lifted its head slightly and sniffed, savouring the tangy smell of the ruptured flesh.
As it bent over the third man, he woke. The long fingers circled his neck like hot cables and it brought its face close to look into his eyes. There was no compassion, or even interest, in the creature’s gaze; it was the look a hunter would give a dying hare as he held it up to check its weight. The man’s eyes ran with tears and he dragged in a last strained breath as the pressure around his neck increased.
The wide mouth pulled open further, black gums receding to reveal rows of needle-like teeth encircling the entire ring of the oral cavity. A long tongue lolled out to lick at the man’s tears. It squeezed tighter and watched the eyes bulge and become glass-like. The man’s head flopped to the side, his face a deep purple from the trapped blood.
The creature gathered the three men in its arms and stepped from the tent. If anyone had been awake to see it re-enter the jungle, they would have thought its passage little more than a breeze stirring the foliage.
NINE
Alex looked out the porthole window of the massive Talon Blackbird, and down at the patchy green landscape and the giant runway that had been scraped out of it. The secret base at Mariscal Estigarribia, northern Paraguay, was one of America’s best-kept secrets. Four hundred US personnel were permanently stationed there, their role to closely observe what they believed to be regional rogue governments determined to destabilise the entire South American continent. The base was in a prime strategic location due to its proximity to Brazil, Argentina and Bolivia, as well as the fractious Venezuela.
Though Alex appeared outwardly calm as the plane made its descent, impatience churned within him, knotting his stomach. He thought of Aimee somewhere in the Paraguayan jungle, and remembered the unidentifiable roar on the recording of the attack on the Green Berets. Now, the Paraguayan government had placed the camp under a quarantine order. Aimee needed his help. Why was it taking so long to get to her?
The aircraft touched down smoothly and, even before the rear ramp had fully opened, the four HAWCs and the two CDC scientists were leaping onto the tarmac. The CDC had sent one of their leading scientists from their infectious diseases division: Maria Vargis. Alex guessed she was in her fifties, but she was still a very handsome woman with an olive complexion, thick wavy dark hair with silver streaking back above her ears, and a figure that could be described as Rubenesque. Her large brown eyes showed a sharp intellect and what was either a sparkle of humour or an impatience just as keen as Alex’s own to get to the drill site. Accompanying her was her son, Michael, also a scientist. Hammerson had assured Alex that the man deserved to be there in his own right, not merely as his mother’s assistant.
It didn’t take long to unload the HAWCs’ gear: each soldier travelled with a compressed backpack that carried most of what he or she would need — the bulk of the carry-weight was reserved for weaponry. For this mission, that meant knives of varying lengths and thicknesses, each in a scabbard, plus a powerful H&K USP45CT pistol on each hip. The smooth, matt-black sidearms were made of a moulded polymer with a hostile environment coating and had a variant trigger for faster discharge. Finally, each HAWC had been issued with a stripped-down XM29 dual munitions burst rifle. The top barrel was a light cannon that fired bursting munitions using a ballistic computer to program the round, telling it where to explode. The bottom barrel was a 5.56mm assault rifle with integrated laser rangefinder, thermal- and night-vision capabilities, and up to 600 per cent telescopic magnification. The plastic stock and polymer-cased ammunition made it lightweight but with all the lethality intact.
The scientists had more equipment and the HAWCs helped with the unloading.
‘Fuck!’ Casey Franks grunted as she hefted one of the smaller boxes. ‘What the hell have you got in here — freakin’ house bricks?’
Michael Vargis laughed. ‘Sorry, I should have said something. It’s our batteries — six 3R12 zinc-chloride dry cells — just in case it’s the only power we can get access to. Very powerful but also very heavy — about fifty pounds altogether. Let me help you.’
‘Nah, just give me room, baby face.’ Franks’s forearms bulged as she lifted the box. ‘Took me by surprise was all.’
An ex-SEAL, Franks had been a HAWC for a number of years. Standing five eight in her combat boots, she had ice-blue eyes and a snub nose. Her face might have been called attractive once, but a cleft scar running from just below her left eye down to her chin pulled her cheek up slightly, giving her what looked like a permanent sneer. Her green and black tiger-striped uniform was tight across her chest, but not because of a cleavage like Maria Vargis’s; rather, taut bands of pectoral muscles gave Franks the shape of a female body builder. She had multiple tattoos on her forearms — daggers, dragons, names of high-power motorbikes, and a rose with the name
‘I expected it’d be hotter,’ she said as she looked around, the unloading completed.
‘Not much of a jungle either,’ said the tall, dark-skinned HAWC who had come to stand beside her. He pulled a mono-scope from a side pouch and focused it on the high mountains just visible to the north-west.
Makhdoum Basasiri Safieddin, Mak for short, stood at nearly six foot four, his wiry frame like corded wood. He had been one of the elite Republican Guards in Iraq and had worked with the Americans after the war. For that, his entire family had been wiped out by one of the local militias. Mak had come to Hammerson’s attention when Alex had met the Iraqi after the completion of the Dark Rising assignment in the region. The US had been looking for good men who could train up local defence personnel. Mak had learnt quickly and with purpose. Now, he couldn’t wait to get back to Iraq — there was a certain militia he looked forward to revisiting.
Sam took Mak’s scope and scanned the nearby peaks for himself. ‘We’re about 1000 feet above sea level here, basically at the foot of Bolivia’s Cordillera Mountains. But don’t fret, children, where we’re going it’s roughly 800 feet
‘I love the heat,’ the Iraqi said. ‘The sun’s warmth is a gift from Allah.’
‘Yeah, but according to you, everything is a gift from Allah,’ responded Franks.
‘Ha, and so it is!’ Mak turned his face to the sunshine and smiled, showing strong white teeth.
Alex looked up and down the runway, then did a 360 turn. His jaw was set in annoyance.
‘Something bothering you, boss?’ asked Sam.
‘Something’s missing — where’s our chopper?’
Alex looked at his watch and swore. Their visit was top secret, so they hadn’t expected a parade, but they had expected to pick up some supplies and then head out immediately on a waiting helicopter that would drop them into the drill site. All up, no more than another six hours of travelling.
‘Best laid plans, huh?’ Sam said, turning his own face up to the sun.
Alex spun again as he heard something on the other side of the runway. Two men had emerged from one of the small flat buildings in the distance and were jogging to meet them. One was in the jungle-striped camouflage of the Paraguayan military; the other wore nondescript drab green coveralls.
‘Action at last,’ Maria Vargis said, putting her hands on her hips.
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Alex said.
He stepped forward as the men halted before him.
The Paraguayan saluted and held his hand out. He had a close-cropped beard and wasn’t particularly tall. ‘Captain Hunter, I assume? I am Captain Fernando Garmadia. I will be taking charge of your team.’
Alex ignored the display of authority. He didn’t return the salute, just took Garmadia’s hand briefly, then turned to the other man.
‘Sergeant Banks, sir,’ he said. ‘Glad you and the team could make it.’
