Fortunately, Hopper was on the ball.
He stepped in before Eric could even get off the ground and clamped a hand over Bob’s mouth, silencing the man’s cries before every fucking squirrel in this forest knew where they were, much less Jenner’s crew.
Bob was quietly whimpering by the time Eric stood up and shined his light on them. Muellenberg and Vasquez kept watch, guns drawn and flashlights scanning the forest while Hopper and Sullivan tended to the injured man.
The fuck?! Something had speared Bob. Thankfully, it hadn’t been dead center, otherwise he’d probably be too busy nursing a sucking chest wound to cry out. Eric saw a wooden spike buried in the man’s arm. It was secured to the branch which had apparently just missed him when he’d fallen.
There was no way this was an accident. He played his light out over the trap. Definitely manmade. A trip wire of some kind, like out of some fucking Vietnam war movie.
What the hell? Had Jenner set these up? Was he actively trying to kill them?
“It’s in there pretty deep,” Sullivan said after a few moments.
“Huh?”
“I said it’s in there deep,” he repeated.
“Can you patch him up?” Eric asked.
“With what?”
“What about that shit back at the camp?”
“You mean the stuff you ordered us to trash?” Hopper replied.
Eric was tempted to round on the man, but that wouldn’t do any good. How were any of them to know this would happen? “Goddamn it! Can’t believe those fuckers did this to us.”
Bob had calmed down enough for Hopper to let him go. He was obviously still in a lot of pain, but was at least holding it together for now.
Hopper shone his light on the trap. “I don’t know, Eric. This looks like it’s been here for a while. Besides, why bother to stop and set it?”
“Because that son of a bitch is smart. He knew we’d come looking.”
Hopper appeared as if he wanted to argue the point, but he simply nodded. “So what do we do about Bob?”
“Pretty sure he needs a doctor,” Sullivan said. “I can tear off a sleeve and wrap that around it, but I don’t know what else we can do. I’m no medic, but I’m fairly certain he could bleed out.”
Eric turned and kicked at the rope which had been set across their path, now hanging limp on the ground. “Fuck!”
In one fell swoop, his grand plan had gone totally FUBAR. He was sorely tempted to call it a night, head back, and hand this off to the state troopers. Let them handle this shit. They’d eventually corral Jenner, but that still wouldn’t save him from being chewed a new asshole by the governor. And now, with a man injured, that would give Yarlberg extra incentive to keep on chewing.
Going back emptyhanded was looking like a grim prospect, but an injured man was better than a dead one. He turned to Bob. “Camp’s back that way. Think you can make it on your own?”
The wide-eyed look on the man’s face told Eric what he thought of that idea.
Double fuck!
“I can take him if you want,” Vasquez said. “Pretty sure I can find the way.”
Eric’s first instinct was to lay into him for being the first to puss out, but he stopped himself. Vasquez was right. Someone needed to keep an eye on Bob, get those ATVs up and running again, and get him to a hospital. Losing two men erased his numbers advantage, but maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be. Jenner’s reinforcements were a college kid and a reporter. He’d be surprised to find them anything other than useless. No idea why Jenner had even brought them along, but that wasn’t his concern.
He still had three trained men with him, all of whom knew how to shoot and at least one, Hopper, who seemed to have half a clue about being out in the woods. This could still work.
He turned to Vasquez. “Fine. Go with him. There’s a hospital in Pomona. Call ahead and see if they can send an ambulance out to meet you.”
“Gotcha. Should I go with him?”
Eric considered this. “No. You make sure he’s okay, but then you haul ass back to the campsite and wait for us there. If Jenner and his crew show up, arrest their asses. If not, hold down the fort until you hear from us.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have destroyed everything.”
“And maybe you should have gone into a different line of work. What’s done is done. Bob, hand over your flashlight and extra ammo.”
The injured man didn’t seem overly pleased with that, but he did as told once Sullivan had bandaged him up as best he could. It wasn’t pretty, but hopefully it would keep him alive until Vasquez could get him to the EMTs.
They handed over the parts for the ATVs and Eric wished them luck as they set off back the way they’d come, watching until the light from their lone flashlight disappeared from sight.
Hopefully the dumb bastards won’t get lost.
He turned to the rest. “Let’s keep moving. Eyes peeled for any more tricks. Shit just got real, boys. If he is trying to kill us, we’re not going to give him the satisfaction of dying.”
“What if he is?” Hopper asked.
“Then we teach him the error of his ways.”
Eric turned back toward the dark woods ahead of them.
“Let’s go get this bastard.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Jonas Yarlberg slammed down his phone. “Where the hell is everyone?”
It was after hours and most of his staff would be home by now. But he dialed his assistant Myra from the back of his car and commanded her to keep trying to reach Eric or anyone on his team, whatever their names were.
Myra insisted she’d do just that, although he was certain she was merely yessing him to death to get off the phone. That was the problem with the help these days – you couldn’t trust anyone to do their job without looking over their shoulder.
This whole mess with Jenner was turning into far more trouble than it was worth. Why the hell had he brought the man and his team in to begin with? Sure, the girl was a piece of ass, but she had a mouth on her. The rest were worthless so far as he could tell. That he’d actually thought for one minute there was an unexplained creature in the woods they needed specialists to deal with. He must have been losing his mind.
Jonas opened up the dry bar, pulled out a glass and a bottle of bourbon, then poured himself a generous splash.
He ordered the driver to take him home, but via the scenic route. Hopefully his wife and kids would be long asleep by the time he got there. He was in no mood to deal with them either.
Eric’s job had been a simple one: make sure those assholes got out of his state. How hard was that to follow? Yet, for some reason, none of them were answering his calls. He’d sent a police cruiser back to the university to check on them, but there was no sign of his people, Jenner, or any of them, for that matter.
Jonas supposed it was possible they were doing their job and escorting the so-called Crypto-Hunter back to whatever fucking rock he’d crawled out from under. But why the radio silence, and to him of all people?
It made no sense unless something had gotten fucked up and Eric was trying to clean up a mess without his knowing.
Stupid son of a bitch. He’s not paid to think!
Jonas considered his options. He could get out in front of this and order a press conference, but that was likely to lead to several uncomfortable questions, especially since he’d welcomed Jenner as a celebrity guest just a few days ago.
The press would likewise get wind of any APBs put out.
He knew he should probably trust his men to do their job, but the current silence was enough to drive him nuts.
Jonas poured another drink and tried to convince himself that all of this was nothing. What could a second-rate TV star do to him, even one with connections in Washington? There was that reporter, but she’d already been warned. He had no problem stepping on her if she made even the slightest peep in his direction.
It was probably nothing to worry about. Definitely nothing that could hurt him or his chances for reelection. It was a minor blip on his radar. Something to distract him from the bigger issues plaguing the state, nothing more.
But, try as he might, something in the back of his head worried him about this situation.
Much as he hated to admit it, he found himself hoping that the silence continued indefinitely. That nothing was ever heard again of either party, but especially from Jenner and his team. If they went missing without a trace, it would simply be one more unsolved mystery – something for the next cable TV show to do an episode on, but nothing that could hurt him.
Yes, he considered, downing a hearty slug of bourbon. Such an outcome wouldn’t bother him in the least.
♦ ♦ ♦
It was all Danni could do to not grab the shotgun and immediately open fire when the first of the Lesterfields stepped into view. A voice in her head screamed that, after everything she’d been through, taking down even one of them before they could converge on her would be a victory.
She managed to ignore it, remembering her team’s last hunt and how she’d almost been mauled by the Thunderbird – all because she’d acted rashly. She’d gotten lucky and her teammates had been there to pull her ass out of the fire, but now she had only herself. One stupid move and this would be all over.
The worst part was perhaps the fact that getting killed didn’t frighten her nearly as much as being taken prisoner again. There was no doubt in her mind she’d used up whatever bit of luck fate had granted her. The Lesterfields were unlikely to give her a second chance. They’d broken the spirits of those they’d captured, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t do worse if they were angered enough.
Danni forced herself to stay her hand. She closed her eyes to the barest of slits and remained still. The hunchbacked man who’d emerged from the woods was a good thirty feet away, his lantern making him stand out like a beacon. But just because she could see him didn’t mean the opposite was true. Let him make the first move, prove he saw where she was hiding. Then she’d act.
For now, she remained unmoving – no matter how much the mud made her skin crawl, no matter how great the desire to run.
The man stepped closer and Danni readied herself. If he got close enough without spotting her, she’d use the knife then dump his body into the brackish water. Let his family wonder what happened to him just as she’d been forced to wonder about her friends before learning the awful truth.
Twenty feet away, then fifteen. Danni was certain he saw her. How could he not? But she knew that was her mind playing tricks on her. She’d learned as much during her training. It was little more than transference, assuming that since she knew where she was, everyone else did, too. But she understood all too well that one could practically step on a properly camouflaged opponent and not realize it. Unfortunately, it was an easier lesson to heed on a training exercise than when one was being hunted by mutated monstrosities intent on rape or worse.
The hunchbacked man turned her way and seemed to be staring right at her, although she couldn’t tell for certain. His face was in shadow now, thanks to the lantern he held up.
Danni held her breath, praying that she was right, yet her hand tightened its grip on the knife nevertheless.
The hunchback started to take another step toward her when a sound further out in the woods startled him.
He spun, weapon raised, but then blew out a breath as someone else stepped from the bushes carrying a gun but no light source. The hunchback’s lantern was old and dim, but it was enough to see that the newcomer was disfigured every bit as badly, maybe even worse. Half his face was overgrown and misshapen. An exaggerated eye peered out from it, open and staring, seeming to almost glow with a light of its own.
“Goddamnit, Jonathan!” the first snapped, spitting onto the ground at the newcomer’s feet. “I almost blew your idiot brains out.”
The second man, Jonathan apparently, pointed off in the direction Danni had heard the scream originate from. He then gestured in some way she didn’t quite understand.
“Yeah, I know. You don’t have to tell me. Don’t wander off. Gonna be a hell of a show for you all if I need to squat and take a shit.”
Jonathan again pointed and the hunchback sighed in disgust. “Okay, I got it. Don’t be a prick. Last I checked, you ain’t running the show.”
The first man stalked off into the woods, walking past Danni’s spot. She could hear his footsteps fading as he headed east.
Come on. Get going!
As if defying her thoughts, Jonathan stood where he was and surveyed the area with his strange, bulging eye.
Danni’s guts compacted and she froze, becoming as still as she could. Though she couldn’t be sure, the deliberate way this bastard was examining the area gave Danni the impression he could see with far greater clarity than the one with the lantern could.
Despite the unlikeliness of his oversized eye giving him some sort of superior night vision, it seemed prudent to pretend that the boogeymen under the bed were real. Her lungs began to ache from holding her breath, but she forced herself to remain still, willing herself to be nothing more than a lump of mud beneath a rotted-out tree.
Please leave.
Rather than do as she hoped, Jonathan turned toward her – his eye, still visible despite the lack of a light source, wide and staring. It was like being stalked by some mythical cyclops. Danni’s heart froze as he took a step toward her.
He came closer and she began to fear that he’d see her before stepping into striking range. If that happened, he’d have her dead to rights. There was no way she’d be able to retrieve the shotgun before he opened fire.
Just as her nerve was about to break, he turned and cocked his head to the side.
He abruptly changed direction, walking toward the edge of the bog where Francis lay. That was apparently what he’d spotted. Jonathan looked down at the body which Danni had cleaned off as best as she could. It had been a mere show of respect on her part, but it seemed now that perhaps it allowed her friend to save her one last time.
Jonathan kicked at the body once. Then it was Danni’s turn to open her eyes wide, this time in rage, as he slung his rifle over his shoulder and unbuttoned his pants. A moment later, the bastard began to urinate on her friend’s remains.
Danni would have been happy to let him walk away before this, but what he was doing infuriated her. It was bad enough they’d killed poor Francis, but to show the utter disdain of defiling his body was too much for her.
Knife in hand, she crept out of her hiding spot before she was even fully aware she was doing it. The Lesterfields might have the advantage in numbers, but this one was alone, separated from the pack. She crept quickly but quietly behind Jonathan as he continued to relieve himself.
Sadly, the ground near Francis was little more than thick muck. Silent as she tried to be, she couldn’t completely mask the sucking noise her foot made when she misstepped and came down on a semi-solid patch of ground that was more mud than dirt.
Jonathan Lesterfield’s head perked up at the sound and he spun to meet her challenge.