Either the earlier explosion set fire to camp or some hunter did it deliberately but whatever the cause, the whole upper section near the gate is in flames. Reid and Marcus stay out of the light as much as they can, dodging running soldiers and the shadows of pursuing hunters.
They are forced to pause once, crouched between a truck tire and a pile of wooden boxes, while three soldiers manage to overpower a hunter by shooting it repeatedly, screaming while the thing goes down. The creature finally collapses in a hiss and the soldiers cheer. Reid’s eyes lock on the pile of powder, longing for it, but doesn’t get the chance to retrieve any. Just as the soldiers turn from their celebration, two more hunters appear and the killing starts again.
The combatants distracted, Reid and Marcus slip around the back of the truck. Marcus scowls at the two flat back tires and shakes his head. No help there. Reid shrugs. He’s fully expecting to have to run for it so the disappointment is only for Marcus.
Reid spots the metal building they’ve been looking for and catches himself cursing. It’s right in the center of the fight.
“Reid, this way.” He follows Marcus out away from the back of the truck and to the edge of the trees. Marcus presses his lips almost against Reid’s ear and whispers. “We can circle around the back and see if there’s a way in.”
Reid nods. Good plan. He lets Marcus lead, keeping an eye on their trail, the rifle in his hands feeling abnormal. He should have claws and teeth to tear with, the rush of dust in his lungs, pushing him to his potential.
Reid knows if he gets a chance to kill a hunter and take its power he’ll do it. Without a moment’s hesitation.
He is so wrapped up in his need he runs right into the back of Marcus. He hisses in surprise, steps around the frozen figure, catching the blank look on his face before following Marcus’s gaze.
Colonel Brackett lies slumped against the side of a tent. Reid can see him clearly but doubts the same of Marcus, wondering if he knows his father’s guts are lying in a steaming heap on the ground beside him. He’s been gutted. The hunters obviously felt the need to show the colonel what they thought of his apparent control.
“Dad.” Marcus’s whisper is soft and drawn out, the ‘a’ going on forever.
The colonel coughs gently, one hand fluttering around the grip of his gun.
“Boy,” he says.
Reid stays back, his sense of justice shoving aside his disgust. Whichever of the hunters sliced him up him did it deliberately, leaving him to die slowly and in as much pain as possible. How fitting. It doesn’t pay for Trey or Carly or even Drew, but it’s a start.
Marcus moves to crouch but stops, looks down. Reid hears the low moan, knows Marcus finally sees the truth.
“Dad, why?” Marcus’s voice shakes as he finally sinks to one knee next to his dying father. “Why did you dump me in there with those monsters?”
The colonel chokes briefly, stills again. “Blame it on that bitch you called a mother.”
Reid is actually taken aback, not by the words, but the dead tone of the delivery. Like the colonel is stepping on a cockroach, not his son’s heart.
Marcus’s shoulders quiver. “Don’t call her that.”
“I’ll call her whatever I damned well like.” The colonel twists his neck and spits. “I knew it for years, you mongrel. Knew it my heart. But she finally told me you weren’t mine.”
Marcus stills. “What?”
“You heard me, you bastard. She went and got herself pregnant by some jerk at a bar.” Brackett’s anger gives him the strength to snarl at Marcus. “While I was off defending our country, your mother was screwing around. Neither one of you deserve to live.”
“You told me she had a reaction. To the new depression meds. The doctors said you were right. But it wasn’t an accident.” Marcus’s voice is as flat as his father’s now. “Was it? You killed Mom. Somehow, you killed her and made it look like the drug did it.”
“Damned right I did. And she deserved it. You can thank Dr. Lund for that particular gem of a toxin.” He wheezes out a dark chuckle. “Waited out my time, too, for the project to be far enough along I knew you’d never make it. Took you from your bed, dumped you myself, you little shit. Happy to do it.” He laughs, deep and hurtful. “Imagine my surprise when my worthless wife’s worthless git shows up in my camp.” His amusement chokes off into a groan of pain. “I should have put a bullet in you myself.”
The colonel’s hand twitches again, his pistol trembling in his useless fingers. But he is unable to lift the gun. Marcus leans forward and takes it from him. Stands to his full height. Points it at the colonel’s face.
“Go ahead,” Brackett wheezes out. “Pull the trigger, you useless little punk. Show me you’re a man.”
Marcus stands there for a long moment. Reid fights the urge to rush him. They don’t have time for this. But he can’t bring himself to break the poisonous thread between the two.
Finally, Marcus drops his arm. “You’re not worth a bullet.” He tosses the gun to the ground and walks away.
“Coward till the end,” Brackett whispers.
Reid lets him go, bends for the pistol himself, unable to watch the man suffer any longer.
“That bitch got away.” At first Reid wonders if the colonel is talking about his wife again but realizes who he is talking about.
“Dr. Lund.” Reid remembers what she said. About how she took the dust herself.
Brackett nods slowly, breathing shallow and harsh. “She… moved like one of them… the creatures. When I tried… to shoot her.” He is fading, but not quickly. His pain is written all over him.
Reid nods. “I’ll try to find her.”
“I bet you will, freak.” Brackett glares at Reid. “So how about you, boy? You have the courage in you to pull the trigger?”
Reid shrugs. “If I think you deserve it.”
Brackett’s body bucks, his rage coming out at last. “You little asshole,” he snarls, “you’ll never get out of here. They’ll… kill you. Think you can be… one of them? All those… little friends of yours. Snacks.” The colonel laughs, the sound like flesh tearing.
Reid drops the gun deliberately in front of the colonel and smiles. “Not if we join them first.”
He leaves the dying man there, ignoring him as he cries out after him. “Come back here and pull that damned trigger! Boy!”
Reid catches up with Marcus beside the lab. Neither says a word, listening to the colonel’s fading shouts until he falls silent. Marcus then points down the length of the building at the door.
Reid can’t believe their luck. Lying across the threshold is another man in a white coat, this one older, balding head wet with his own blood. Even better, this side of the building is in darkness, the perimeter lights burned out. The sounds of the battle go on, but are muffled by the shelter of the building.
It’s almost too easy, which makes Reid nervous. But luck stays with them long enough to make it to the door, swipe the keycard in the lock and lift the dead tech high enough so his thumb triggers the lock.
Reid and Marcus slip inside, letting the door hiss shut behind them. It’s dark inside but that doesn’t stop Reid.
“Stay here.” He goes searching, grateful Marcus follows his instructions. The lab is small and packed with equipment, none of which is helpful. Reid spins in frustration, unable to make sense of anything when his eyes fall on a large metal footlocker. He dives for it and checks the lock. Uses the keycard again.
The top pops up. Reid eases it open and looks inside.
A row of thin plastic tubes lie nestled in a sheet of gray foam.
“Marcus, over here.” He follows Reid’s voice and is almost immediately crouched next to him. Reid looks around, sees a plastic bag under one of the tables, retrieves it. “Hold this.” Reid starts dumping the tubes into the bag.
“You may want to be careful with those,” Marcus whispers. “They are stored in fairly hefty protection, right?”
Reid pauses, then continues dumping. Maybe some will break. And he doesn’t know what kind of effect the stuff will have on normal people let alone him, but there is no time for delicacy.
He lifts layer after layer of the foam out, tossing the thick gray stuff aside. The handles of the bag are stretching out by the time he reaches the bottom. Instead of risking the plastic ripping, Reid hangs on to the last handful.
“That’s it,” he says. “Let’s go.”
“Reid.” He pauses and looks at Marcus. “There is a hell of a lot of drugs here. How many hunters are there?”
It’s not worth thinking about. “We have to get back to the others.”
Marcus just nods and gathers the bag to his chest, quietly following Reid out.
They both know it doesn’t matter, numbers are unimportant at this point. There could be fifty or five thousand but the result is the same.
They still have to try.
***