by Terry Alexander
“A man’s got to be crazy to be out in weather like this,” Cecil Stockton mumbled. His hands squeezed the steering wheel, driving his battered Ford pickup in one of the worst snowstorms to ever hit New Mexico. The chained rear wheels churned on the quickly accumulating powder, grinding the slush under the tires. He rolled down the window and casually tossed his cigarette outside. Though the window was only partially open for a brief moment a bitter cold draft seeped into the cab of the pickup by the time he had the glass back up.
The vehicle’s worn out wipers scraped over the windshield, barely clearing a spot big enough for him to see through. He cursed himself for the hundredth time. Still he needed the money. Mr. Caruthers promised him fifty dollars to deliver a load of hooch to Marvin Cox.
Cox, a pitiless hard case that did some time in prison, owned the local tavern in Wright City. He purchased ten gallons of Mr. Caruthers rasinjack every week. Everyone within fifty miles knew Lon Caruthers made the best squeezin’s. On Friday and Saturday nights the local ranch hands crowded into Marvin’s place elbow to elbow to drown their sorrows over a glass of Caruthers’ brew.
The heater struggled against the ice building up on the windshield. A clear coating covered the wiper blade on the right side rendering it useless. Nerves stretched to a raw edge, he longed for another cigarette, but he knew trying to roll one while he was driving in this weather was foolish.
The dim street lights of Wright City cut through the mass of flakes blowing in the stiff wind. Marvin’s place was down the block and around the corner. Cecil figured it would take him a half hour to deliver the product and collect Mr. Caruthers’ money. His lips turned up in a half grin. A nice slow drive home and he would be sitting by his wood stove in less than an hour. There he could enjoy another cig and the storm could unleash all its fury while he was inside safe and warm.
The old man didn’t see the huge one ton Chevrolet slide around the corner until it was too late. He stomped down hard on the brake. The chained tires slid in the snow. Instinctively his arms covered his face as the heavier truck plowed into his grill.
Old Marvin’s sure going to be peeved when I don’t deliver this rotgut, he thought as his head whiplashed into the windshield. It was his last thought on earth.
A clear fluid leaked from the ruptured container of home brew. The liquid seeped through the cracks in the wooden bed and dripped onto the hot exhaust below. A small fire whooshed to life, eating into the boards. The flames quickly covered the truck, burning hotter with the addition of the accelerant. Fire spread to the one ton.
Thick sinewy arms broke through the top of the wooden crate riding in the bed of the one ton. A thickset woman with long ratty hair stepped to the smoking wood. The fire spread, surrounding her. A loud growl came from her thick lips as she leaped to safety. Her gnarled foot touched down on the snow. A savage howl filled the night sky. The starving beast smelled food. It had to have sustenance. Thick muscular legs carried it from the fire into the frigid darkness.
***
Richard Knight and Larry Doyle parked the coupe in front of General Brett’s large home. Snowflakes whipped through the air carried by a fierce northern wind. Richard raised his collar against the wind and ran to the shielded front door. The two men were a contrast in appearance, the shorter, homely man with a crooked nose, a souvenir of a brutal fight in China. A tall man with dark hair and a firm jaw followed.
“I wonder what’s so important that the old bird called us back early.” The short man brushed wet flakes from his hair.
“It’s got to be important, Larry. The general isn’t one to panic easily.” Richard’s dark eyes sparkled. “Still I won’t mind seeing Benita again.”
“You saw your girl a few days ago. I doubt she’s changed much since Tuesday.” Larry’s hand closed on the brass door knocker.
The door opened suddenly. Benita Navarre’s smiling face beckoned to them from across the threshold. Her eyes fastened on Richard. She instantly ran into his arms.
“Ricardo, I have missed you so.” Her lips found his.
Larry politely turned away.
Richard caught Benita by the shoulders and pushed her away. “Querida, the general is expecting us.” They shrugged from their heavy overcoats. Benita hung them on the rack near the entry way.
“Si, he is in his office. He is very…” She struggled with the words. “Anxious to see you both.” She led them through the entry way to the cream colored door of Brett’s office. “General, you have company.” She turned to Richard, excitement in her dark eyes. “I want to see you before you leave.”
“Dick, get in here. We have to talk.” General Brett yanked the door open, then crossed the room standing behind his desk, his hair mussed, tie loosened and collar askew.
Richard nodded. “I’ll do my best. Sounds like this is important,” he whispered to Benita as he passed through the threshold.
“Grab a seat you two.” Brett walked to the window, gazing through the icy panes at the white fluff accumulating on his yard. “We have a situation in New Mexico. Take a look at those photos. I received them from a special courier three hours ago.”
Richard lifted a stack of 8 X 10’s from the table and passed half the stack to Larry. The black and white glossies showed scenes of mass devastation. Two vehicles, blackened and twisted in the center of a snow covered street. Several close-up photos of dead men, women, and children, some in bed, others lying in snow covered streets, frozen in horrific poses. Bellies ripped open, entrails scattered in a frenzied fashion. Large chunks of flesh missing from the bare flesh of the victims.
“Those pictures are from Wright City, New Mexico, a small burg up in the northern mountains. Two vehicles collided in a snowstorm three days ago. The autos burned to slag and unleashed something that killed most of the population. Of the three hundred people in Wright City only seven are still alive.” The General turned and stared at his two operatives. “The area is very isolated, they have all their supplies trucked into the mountains, fuel, food, medical supplies, everything. If not for the local sheriff’s monthly report and the chance dropping of one of the driver’s names we wouldn’t know anything about this. It took over a day for the military to get wind of the accident and send a man to Wright City. You see what he found.”
“Who was the driver?” Richard thumbed through the photos, a look of disgust on his face.
“Heinrich Roemer.”
“I’ve heard of Roemer. He’s headquartered in Brazil.” Richard’s eyes widened.
“He’s a high placed agent for the German SD. We need to know why he was in New Mexico.” Brett took an overstuffed easy chair across from the duo. “We’ve got a huge problem and nothing to go on.”
“What could have done this, wild animals? From the way they’re dressed most of these people were attacked in their sleep.” Larry threw the stack to the table. The pictures skidded across the slick surface.
“I don’t know. That’s why I called you.” Brett nodded. “I’m sending you both to Wright City. I want to know what is going on there and I expect you to find out. The way things are in Europe and China we can’t take any chances.”
“I’ve got a date with a sweet redhead from Philly,” Larry shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to call her up and cancel. She’ll be heartbroken.”
“Relax, Romeo. She’ll be waiting when we get back.” Richard jumped to his feet. “We’ll leave within the hour. Does Wright City have a landing strip?”
“Captain Anderson is on-site. He’s preparing a temporary landing strip now. Contact him when you’re close.” The General climbed slowly to his feet. “I want this wrapped up fast, FDR is worried about the Nazis. We know they have spies in the country waiting to carry out Hitler’s orders.”
Larry ran a finger over his crooked nose. “If they’re in New Mexico we’ll root them out, Sir.”
“See that you do.” General Brett walked them to the door. “This has been a stressful day. I’m talking with Franklin tomorrow. I’ll assure him you’ll deal with this mess.” He looked into Richard’s eyes. “I want this taken care of quickly and quietly.”
***
The blue Northrop hurled through the chill air like a bullet. Richard scanned the control dials. He and Larry had stopped at the airport in Kansas City to refuel and were nearing the New Mexico state line.
“Dick, what’s your notion on this business?” Larry asked.
“I don’t know. I keep thinking of a weapon of some sort, but a weapon wouldn’t do that kind of damage to those people.” Richard glanced over his shoulder. “We need more information before we can even guess what we’re up against.”
“Don’t look now, but we have company.” Larry twirled his specially made cockpit seat. “Coming up on the left wing, about a quarter mile out, Biplane, open cockpit. I can’t make out any markings from here.”
“I’ve got it. In this cloud cover and with that snow cover on the ground, that white plane is perfectly disguised. I’ll bet they’re freezing in that rig.” Richard moved the stick toward the unidentified aircraft. The shadowing ship moved to maintain the same distance. “Put the field glasses on it. See if you can make out any details.”
“It’s not marked, no insignia of any kind.” Larry shook his head. “My God,” his voice rose in excitement. “That’s a Junkers CL. I. The Germans only built about fifty of them at the end of the war. That’s one sweet plane. He’s maintaining his interval. I don’t think he wants to mix it up.”
“I remember stories about a German Ace that flew a Junkers. They called him Herr Giest.”
“Mr. Ghost.” Larry shrugged his shoulders. “If that’s the same guy, he’s a good pilot.”
A laconic smile crossed Richard’s face. “Let’s see how good.” He pushed the stick forward. The ship answered immediately, diving toward the ground.
The white plane followed suit, constantly maintaining the half mile distance.
Richard leveled the Northrop in a tight loop to the right. The mystery pilot executed the same maneuver. The Wasp’s engines roared as he took the craft up in an inside roll. The white plane copied the move exactly.
“Man, that guy is good.” Larry licked his lips nervously. “What are you going to do now?”
“I can’t keep playing around. We’ve got to get to Wright City. Get the .50’s ready just in case and keep your eye’s on him. If he moves closer, I want to know about it quick.” Richard glanced at the dials. “Welcome to New Mexico, Mr. Doyle. I’m going to radio Captain Anderson and get instructions on this airstrip.”
He switched on the transmitter and picked up the microphone. He swung the wavelength lever to a red point. “Q to Captain Anderson, Q to Captain Anderson. Come in Captain.” Richard switched on the receiver.
“This is Anderson.” A voice came from the small amplifier under the ship’s forward cowl. “Go ahead Q.”
Richard switched the radio to transmit. “Captain, we just crossed into New Mexico airspace, arrival time in twenty minutes. Give me the layout on this landing strip you constructed.”
“There isn’t a strip. We can’t get any equipment up here. We managed to clear the main street and make a makeshift runway. Advise you to come in on the east.” Anderson’s controlled voice squawked through the speaker. “The place doesn’t have any electricity or phones so you won’t clip any lines.”
“Understood, see you when we touch down,” He switched the machine off. “How’s our friend doing?”
“Holding his position,” Larry answered. “Hold on, he’s moving, coming into our flight path. It’s definitely a Junker. If Germany had those ships earlier in the war, the outcome might have been different.”
“If he makes any aggressive moves, take him down.” Richard glanced at his instruments, then his gaze shifted to the folded map clipped to the panel. “We’re closing in on Wright City. I’ll swing around and drop to five hundred feet. We’re looking for a cleared street. How’s our company doing?”
Larry’s hand shielded his eyes, gazing at the white plane. “He’s still there, a half mile behind.” He glanced at the snow covered landscape below. “I hope it’s a wide street.”
“The pilot is checking us out, trying to figure out who we are. Makes me wonder what we’re going to find down there.” Richard switched the radio on and turned the lever to transmit. “Q to Captain Anderson, I’ve spotted the street. I’m going to circle the town once and land.” His hand automatically switched the lever to receive.
“Message received. My men have eyes on you, land at your leisure.”
“Dick, our friend is peeling off, going southwest.” Larry returned the weapons to the cockpit niche.
“I’m sure he’ll show up again.” He flipped a lever, lowering the landing gear. “Look sharp, Doyle. I’ve never landed on a crowned road before, this may be tricky.”
Smoke boiled from the tires on contact with the wet highway. The plane bounced into the air only to touch down again ten feet away. A canvas covered Model T Roadster roared onto the highway following the aircraft.
Richard turned the Northrop at the end of the makeshift runway. He killed the engine and unlocked the protective canopy. Richard scratched his head, silently appraising Captain Anderson.
A tall man, his brown hair streaked with gray above the ears, stood beside the Ford. His uniform speckled with soggy mud spots, wet at the elbows and knees from snow melt. He leaned against the hood waiting for the pair to join him on the ground.
“Captain Anderson, what’s the status on the investigation?” Richard stepped to the hard asphalt and grasped the Captain’s hand, as Larry hopped to the ground behind him.
Anderson pulled a small notebook from his breast pocket. “We’ve got the survivors in the Sheriff’s office.” He paused to read his notes. “Augustus Smith thinks Cecil Stockton was driving the pickup. He’s a retired rancher, been running hooch to the local taverns.”
“Any idea where he gets the sauce?” Larry stuffed his arms into a thick army coat.
“Lon Caruthers is a well known bootlegger in the area, lives about twenty miles southwest of here.”
Larry glanced toward the sky. “Same direction that strange plane was going.” He mumbled.
“A white plane?” Anderson demanded. “We saw it early yesterday afternoon. It flew two passes over the town, made my men jumpy as hell”
“It shadowed us for the last sixty miles.” Richard met the Captain’s eyes.
“We’ve cordoned off the area for a ten mile radius. I’ll radio the Air Corp boys and see if we can get some of our birds in the air.” The Captain paused for a moment. “Where do you want to go first?”
“I want a look at the vehicles.” Richard and Larry climbed into the Roadster’s rear seat.
“Where are the bodies?” Larry settled into the uncomfortable rear cushion.
“Down at the school gymnasium. It’s the only building big enough. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Something ate those people.” Anderson’s complexion paled, he patted the Sergeant on the shoulder. The motor coughed and sputtered before it roared to life. The vehicle sped down the cleared highway. The driver slowed, as he took a sharp left turn. The vehicle fishtailed on the snow.
“Careful there, guy.” Larry snapped. “We want to get there in one piece.”
“Yes Sir.” The Ford slowed.
“You don’t have to sir me. I work for a living,” Larry groused.
They sped past sentries posted at every street corner. “Looks like you’ve got the lid really screwed down tight on this.” Richard stared at the wood frame homes with white picket fences. From the outside Wright City resembled ever other small town in America.
The driver tapped the brakes as he took a wide sweeping right. He stopped before a large pile of blackened metal. The snow had melted around the charred wreck. The ground bordering the road had been burned black by the intense heat, the asphalt under their feet soft and gooey.
Richard approached the wreck cautiously. The sticky roadway tugged at his brogans. He examined the crumpled ruin closely. “The frame is all bent and twisted.”
“Yeah, and the fenders are nearly burned through.” Larry poked a finger through the flaky metal. “Whatever did this generated a lot of heat, but the fire didn’t kill all those people.”
“I’ve got a wild idea, but I hope I’m wrong.” Richard stood and brushed soot from his fingers. “I want to speak to Mr. Smith, and then I’d like to speak to Caruthers.”
“There’s a problem with that, Sir.” Captain Anderson stared at the ground sheepishly. “We can’t find Mr. Caruthers. I’ve sent men out to his farm. When he reappears, they have orders to bring him to me.”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” Richard demanded.
“I was hoping we could come up with him before you asked.” Anderson climbed in beside the driver. “The Sheriff’s office is just down the street.”
Richard glanced at Larry; the ex-marine rubbed a finger along his nose which was answered by a measured nod from Richard. “Okay, Captain. I want to question Mr. Smith.”
Tires spun in the deep powder as the vehicle lurched forward. The driver kept his eyes forward, keeping to the center of the slightly downhill road. After six blocks he stopped before an old rock structure with a sloped roof.
“This is the Wright County Sheriff’s office, built in the 1890s. Two offices and three cells, I have six men surrounding the building. They have orders not to let anyone out or in without my approval.” Anderson stepped to the street. He grabbed the Model T’s fender as his foot slipped on the slick hard pack. “When that snow melted up the street, all the water ended up here. That combined with our vehicles has packed this to a solid sheet of ice.” He nodded to the private at the front door. “McMillan, allow these men to question the…” He cleared his throat. “survivors.”
Richard noticed the hesitation. Keeping his voice calm he turned to Anderson. “Captain, check in with your men at the Caruthers’ farm. See if they’ve turned up anything.” He stepped gingerly onto the snow and crossed the sidewalk to the front door.
“Dick, if it’s okay with you, I’ll hang around out here with the grunts.” Larry nodded.
“I’ll be as quick as I can.” An overhead bell chimed as he entered.
Seven people, three women, two men, and two children huddled around a potbellied stove in the lobby outside the main office. They stared at him with hollow eyes, their clothes wet and grimy.
“I’m looking for Mr. Augustus Smith.” Richard stopped near the desk.
“That would be me.” A tall, bony gray haired man wearing a soiled coat came to his feet. “Can I help you, Sir?” He shivered in his thin clothes.
“No need to be so formal, Mr. Smith.” He motioned the older man to a desk at the far side of the room. “My name’s Richard Knight. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
A gap-toothed smile split the old mans face. “Just call me Gus, everyone does.”
“My friends call me Dick.” Richard returned the smile. “Well, Gus. Captain Anderson tells me you think the wrecked pickup out there belonged to Cecil Stockton.”
Gus nodded. “Yeah, he delivered shine for Lon Caruthers, made weekly trips to Marvin Cox’s roadhouse. Marvin was one of Lon’s best customers.”
“I take it that Mr. Cox is dead?”
“Far as I know,” he shrugged. “That sorry excuse for a soldier out there won’t tell us much of anything. I heard him telling his men that we were the only survivors.” Gus scraped at the whisker stubble along his jaw. “Back in my day that man would have been lucky to make sergeant.”
“You were in the military?” Richard asked.
“Served with Teddy Roosevelt in 01 and The American Expeditionary Forces in France, saw some action at the Marne.” He nodded. “Now them Germans could fight. I expect we’ll be in another shooting match with them boys soon enough.”
Richard’s eyebrows arched. “Why do you say that?”
“I listen to the radio, read the papers. I know what that little paper hanging corporal is up to.” Gus folded his arms across his chest. “I know what’s out there. I saw it stalking the streets last night and I know that the Germans are trying to catch it.”
“What is it?” Richard’s chair scooted his chair closer to the old man.
“A Bapet. I saw one when I was a kid, back in the old wild days.” Gus nodded at Richard. “I know what you’re thinking. Crazy old coot doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“A Bapet?” Richard cocked his head is disbelief. “Isn’t that an old Indian legend?”
“It looks like a woman, but it ain’t. It’s a monster. The Utes chased them from their hunting lands over a hundred years ago. They tried to kill them all, some survived. They’re cannibals. This one doesn’t care who it kills, man, woman, or child. It doesn’t care.”
Gus paused to draw a breath. “Most of the last ones were trapped in the high mountains. The Utes drove them into a cave and sealed them in. Someone freed this one and loosed it on the town.” Tears collected in the corners of the old man’s eyes. “No one believes in the old stories anymore.”
Richard shook his head. The old man’s story sounded too fantastic to be true. “Have you ever seen a white plane without any markings?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Sure, everyone for fifty miles around knows that plane. It belongs to Marvin Cox. He and Caruthers fly moonshine into Texas and Arizona. They make a tidy profit.” Gus lowered his voice. “The Bapet will be back tonight. It’s starving. She’ll kill every one of us. You’ve got to stop her.”
“I will. I promise.” Richard patted the old man’s shoulder. “I’ll check back on you soon, see how you’re doing. If there’s anything you need, just let me know.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll make sure you get it.”
“We could use some coffee and food. The general out there isn’t the most thoughtful man I’ve ever seen.” Gus returned to his original spot near the stove.
Richard walked through the office door into the weak sunshine that filtered through the clouds. He moved to the enclosed Roadster, and caught Larry’s eyes as he climbed into the rear compartment. His hand fisted on the Captain’s uniform and pulled him around. “Take coffee and food to those people, soft drinks for the children, and they need more wood for the fire. Do I make myself clear?” His steely eyes bored into Anderson’s.
“Yes Sir, I’ll take care of it immediately,” Anderson stammered.
“Any word from the Caruthers farm?” Richard demanded.
“No Sir. We can’t raise my men.”
“Arrange for a vehicle. Mr. Doyle and I are going out there.” Richard settled in the seat.
“I’ll have a driver at your disposal,” Anderson muttered.
“You really told him how the cow ate the cabbage,” Larry whispered in Richards’s ear.
***
A young private drove the enclosed Roadster along the snow covered highway, keeping to the deep ruts created by previous traffic. Richard stared out the window at the heavily laden trees, limbs touching the ground.
“The turn to the farm house is coming up,” Private Jenkins mumbled. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Tell me, Private, where are you from?” Larry leaned forward in the rear seat.
“Roswell, desert country south of here.” He nodded. “I joined about three years ago. Except for training exercises, we haven’t seen much action.”
“Tell me about your captain.” Richard shook a cigarette from his pack and pulled a pack of matches from his pocket. “Does he have much military experience?” He struck one on the strike board and puffed the cigarette to life.
“No Sir, none of us do. He’s been in for several years, but none of us have ever seen anything like Wright City.” Jenkins slowed into the curve. “Scuttlebutt is you guys are big shots from Washington, sent in to figure this thing out.”
“We’re consultants for the military,” Larry said quickly. “They’ve asked us to take a look at this and advise on any possible causes.”
“They’re some strange things going on here. Hope you can figure it out. A few of the guys saw a strange woman roaming the streets last night.” Private Jenkins pointed up the road. “There’s the turn.”
“You hear that.” Richard rolled down the window. “That’s a plane engine.”
“Step on it,” Larry shouted.
“The roads awfully slick.” The rear end of the roadster lost traction and slid sideways on the highway. Jenkins expertly steered into the skid and pulled out.
Richard peered through the trees. He caught sight of the white ship moving through the trees. “Blast it. He’s getting away.’
Jenkins rounded a curve on the dirt road, pulling into the rutted driveway of a wood frame home. “Where’s the guys? There’s four men assigned here.”
The engine roared as the white plane lifted from the pasture near the barn. The Junkers climbed and banked at the tree line flying northwest.
“He’s flying toward Wright
City.” Larry pointed at the diminishing dot in the
air.
“Jenkins, get Anderson on the radio. Tell him he’s got company coming. Larry, scout around and see what you can find.” Richard climbed from the back seat. He drew the .38 revolver from his shoulder holster. “I’m going to the barn, see what Caruthers keeps there.”
Larry nodded and pulled a pistol from the holster at his waist. He ran toward the white painted house.
Snow crunched under Richard's feet as he made his way toward the tin roofed structure. Dark rusty patches showed on the metal, the roof swayed in the center.
The heavy door creaked as he pulled it open. Shelves covered the length of both walls. A large table covered with dirt and rock fragments occupied the center of the building. He lifted a polished black arrowhead, the remains of a decayed shaft still bound to the stone, from the mess. Without thinking he stuck it in his coat pocket.
Richard moved into the shadows, he tripped over the body of a gray haired man. A large wet stain covered his chest. He’d found Lon Caruthers. His eyes fastened on the ticking package next to the body. “Oh hell!”
Richard jumped to his feet and ran for the door. He passed through the opening into the frigid air as the bomb exploded. The force of the blast flung him through the air. He landed twenty feet away, sliding through the snow. The.38 flew from his hand, burying itself in the powder.
Larry Doyle ran from the farmhouse. “Dick! Are you alright?” he shouted.
Richard pushed himself up on his hands and knees. “I’m fine,” he said. White dust covered his clothes, clinging to his hair. “Someone didn’t want us to find out what was in there.”
“Looks like it,” Larry nodded. “The soldiers are dead. I found them in the back yard. Someone cut their throats. If Caruthers did this, he’s a lot craftier than we realized.”
“I found a dead man inside the barn. I think its Caruthers.” Richard climbed to his feet. “We need to get back to town.”
Jenkins stood on the bumper of the old Ford. “Sirs, I managed to raise the captain. They’re under attack. He said it’s the mystery woman!”
“Start the car. We’ve got to get back there.” Richard raced for the vehicle, Larry close behind.
***
Jenkins pushed the rattling Ford to its limits. The rear end threatened to spin around at every corner, only the private’s expert handling of the vehicle kept them on the road.
“Where did you learn to drive like this?” Larry asked, his nervous hands clutching the dashboard.
“Out in the desert, you can really cut loose out there.” Jenkins answered quickly, keeping his attention on the slick highway.
“Don’t let up, we need to get back quick. We have to figure out what’s going on.” Richard nodded.
The outlines of Wright City loomed in the distance. A thick gray plume of smoke billowed into the heavens from the center of town. The mysterious white plane circled above the buildings, the front gun strafing the ground.
The aircraft broke away from the town and flew straight toward the Model T. Red tracers flared from the forward gun, kicking up snow and ice in front of the vehicle. Jenkins twisted the wheel savagely. The Roadster slid across the ice. The soldier fought the wheel, trying to maintain control. The vehicle straightened. The chained tires found traction as the car shot forward. Bullets punctured the fenders and shattered the wind screen. Glass rained down on Richard’s head. The plane passed overhead. It climbed and turned for another run.
“Faster, we’ve got to get to town.” Richard slapped the seat in frustration. “We’ve got to stop that idiot.”
The rust bucket topped a small rise near the city limits sign and went airborne. The vehicle landed hard. Its rear end and bumper scraped along the roadway. Bullets kicked snow into the air by the side of the vehicle. Jenkins drove the sedan off the highway, the front end bounced from the shallow ditch and climbed up the embankment. Steam rose from under the hood, turning to icy fog. The plane circled overhead and returned to Wright City.
The Ford crashed through a line of brush bordering a dirt road that ran parallel to the highway. Jenkins steered the wounded duck onto the gravel and sped toward Wright City.
“If this thing holds together, we’ll be there in a few minutes.” A loud clanging came from the laboring engine. The slow moving vehicle passed the outskirts of Wright City. The sounds of rifle fire echoed from the center of town. Several minutes later the Roadster rolled to a stop.
“My God, look at this.” Richard gazed through the cracked windshield at the carnage on the streets. The dead and dying lay scattered like straw before a high wind. Captain Anderson lay on his side behind a Model T truck, his hand clutching a bloodstained rifle. Crimson stained the snow from the gaping wound in his neck.
The trio climbed from the vehicle. Smoke rose from several fires, blotting out the weak sunlight. Richard stared down the street. He spied the white Junkers in the distance, beside the blue Northrop. A flurry of activity came from the area. Richard saw several men scurrying about. Gunshots popped in the distance.
“Someone’s putting up a fight.” Richard ran to Anderson’s side prying the rifle from his dead hand.
“Who are they fighting?” Larry removed the .45 automatic from the side holster.
“I don’t know, but I want to find out.” He turned to Jenkins. “Get yourself some more ammo. Sounds like things are going to get rough.”
“I’m ready.” Jenkins went through the pockets of a dead soldier, gathering extra ammunition. “I just hope I get a chance to get some of these jokers.”
“Split up. We’ll meet at the jail. Remember everyone is an enemy.” Richard nodded.
“I hope that red head in Philly has an understanding nature.” A smile cracked Larry’s pug face. “See you at the jail.”
Richard crouched, his powerful legs propelling him forward. He darted between the leafless trees lining the street. A bullet kicked snow at his feet as he crossed the boulevard and hid behind a bullet riddled car. The steady drone of gunfire grew louder. He raced from the vehicle and flattened himself against a storefront wall. He took a moment to catch his breath. The blood rushed through his veins, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
A chorus of gunfire sounded behind him. He turned to see Jenkins crouched behind a rusted Chevrolet. The young private pressed his cheek to the rifle stock. The rifle bucked in his hands. Richard saw a man fall from the roof of the general store.
“Get to the jail,” Jenkins shouted. “I’ll hold them off.”
A bullet struck the wall, brick dust peppered Richard’s face. He wheeled. The rifle settled into a familiar shoulder niche. Richard took a moment to sight down the barrel and fired. A thick burly man hiding behind a tree exposed himself briefly, lining up another shot. Richard’s bullet caught him in the throat.
Richard ran up the street, dodging between cover. The firing gradually diminished and grew silent. He turned the corner. The jail lay across the street.
Five bodies lay in a wide semi-circle around the door. The coppery scent of fresh blood filled the air. Larry ran into the office behind him.
“Wowee, look at that.” The ex-marine whispered. “That old coot really put up a scuffle.”
“We need to get inside, see if anyone’s alive.” Richard pursed his lips.
“Okay.” Larry shrugged. “Have you figured out who we’re fighting? I mean, I’d just like to know in case I cash in my chips today.”
Richard nodded. “I don’t have a clue. But we have to check on the survivors, there has to be a reason why the town was attacked.”
Larry shrugged. “Let’s get this over with.” He pushed himself away from the wall and dashed across the street.
Movement in the distance caught Richard’s eyes. White clad figures, their ivory uniforms blended with the snow drifts, advanced on their position. Winter camouflage? These men came prepared. He ran across the street, following Larry as he entered the sheriff’s office.
Five bodies lay in a heap in the center of the floor. Gus Smith sat at the sheriff’s desk. His face drawn and pale, a red splotch at his shoulder, the room amplified the sound of his raspy labored breathing.
“About time you boys showed up,” he croaked. “The Bapet returned and she’s angry. The Germans have orders to catch her.”
“What’s a Bapet?” Larry asked. “And how do you know those are Germans out there?”
“I know that guttural language when I hear it. I spent a year on the front line during 1918.” Froth bubbled from the old man’s lips. “They’re planning on using her in their war.”
“Lay back and rest, Gus.” Richard patted the old man’s hand. “We’ll get out of this mess and get some help for you.”
“Don’t lie to an old man, son.” Gus flashed a crooked smile. “My time’s nearly done. But I managed to introduce a few of those beggars to Saint Peter. Hopefully, he’ll keep them out of heaven.” A hacking cough shook his body. “You two need to get out of here. The back door’s open. Give me a gat and I’ll nail a couple when they come inside. You’ve got to stop them and the Bapet.”
Larry placed the .45 in the old mans hand. “Give them hell, Gus.” He ran to the back door.
Richard took a second to flash a salute to the old soldier. He found Larry standing in an alley behind the jail, his hands in the air. Six white clad troopers stood before him, their bolt action rifles centered on his chest.
“Knight, Richard Knight. The chase is over. Come out unless you want us to kill your associate,” A sultry female voice shouted. “You have two minutes to make your decision. After that my soldiers will shoot him like a dog.”
“Stay where you are, Dick. Don’t let these rats take you.” Larry shouted.
The troops inched closer, fingers poised on the rifle triggers. “Nein, not yet,” the woman yelled. “You have one minute to make up your mind.”
“Don’t shoot. I’m coming out.” Richard held the rifle away from his body, his hand wrapped around the stock, the barrel pointed toward the ground.
“Step carefully, Mr. Knight. My men would like nothing better than to kill you and your crooked nosed friend.” A heavy bosomed blonde female stepped into view. A Luger gripped in her fist. “Where is the Bapet?”
“Bapet?” Richard feigned ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
An ivory clad soldier snatched the rifle from his hands. Dropping it to the snow covered ground, he patted him down, searching for a weapon. “He has a shoulder holster,” he said, in guttural English, “but no other weapons.”
“Where is your pistol?” She moved the Luger, pointing it toward Larry. “If you don’t tell me the truth, your friend will die.”
“I lost it at Caruthers’ farm, when the barn exploded.” Richard eyed the young beauty. “I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
“That’s Irene Stein, the girl I was dating in Arizona last year,” Larry answered. “It’s a pity. You seemed like such a sweet girl.”
Irene walked up to Larry. She stared in his eyes briefly and backhanded him across the face. “You’re a pig, Mr. Doyle. I detested that assignment. Your very touch sickened me.”
A thread of crimson ran from Larry’s lips, dripping onto his coat. “Funny, you didn’t act that way in Arizona.” He spit blood onto her white uniform and smiled showing scarlet stained teeth.
She drew back her hand for a second blow, a deep flush creeping up her face. Her left hand fell to her side. “I promise you will die before this day is through. But I have other matters to deal with before I can afford myself that small pleasure.”
Irene turned to Richard. “Now, no more games. Where is the Bapet?”
“I don’t know.” Richard met her steely gaze. “I was sent here to investigate the explosion.”
“Someone tell me, what is a Bapet?” Larry shouted.
“Fraulein Stein, we know this creature is loose, running through the town killing at random.” The soldier stepped away from Richard, keeping the rifle centered on his head. “Perhaps we should leave these Americans to their fate.”
She nodded. “You may be right. We have awakened an angry demon that we can’t control. The Bapet has slaughtered enough troops.” Irene glanced to the soldiers. “Kill them now and burn this town to the ground. Make sure nothing remains but ash.”
“Hold it,” Jenkins screamed. “Make another move and I’ll put a bullet through your pretty head.”
Irene lowered the weapon. “Do as he says.”
Larry lowered his arms to his side. “I’m glad you showed up, kid. I thought they nailed you.”
Richard snatched the pistol from Irene’s hands. Larry circled behind and quickly collected the weapons from the soldiers. He turned to the private. “Jenkins, put these rats against the wall and keep an eye on them.”
The private nodded. “Okay, you bums. Kiss the bricks.” He pointed the rifle barrel at the rear wall.
“You’re part of the Sicherheitsdienst, I know the German’s have agents in South America and are ferreting them into the United States. What were your orders?” Richard demanded.
“I’ll tell you everything, since none of us will escape this place alive. Your leaders will never know the true events that transpired here.” Irene covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. “Lon Caruthers was a disgraced scientist. He escaped from the Fatherland before the Fuhrer assumed power. Here he became a…” She struggled with the word.
“A bootlegger.” Larry said.
“Yes, a bootlegger.” Irene nodded her head slightly. “Himmler assigned an agent to keep watch over him. Caruthers was of very little interest to us until he discovered the Bapet in the mountains. The old fool was searching for gold when he found the creature in a cave. Once our agent became aware of his discovery he radioed the head of the South America SD, who in turn contacted the Fatherland. We were sent to retrieve this creature. Roemer was bringing the monster to us when the accident occurred.”
“So Himmler sent the SD out to hunt monsters,” Richard interrupted.
“Wait a minute. You said none of us would get out of here alive.” Larry rushed forward, his hand circled her elbow. “What did you mean by that?”
“You foolish dolt.” Irene pulled away from his grasp. Her blonde locks fanned out around her face. “My troops are placing bombs all over this village. Within minutes Wright City will be a heap of flaming rubble.”
“What are you saying?” Richard grabbed her arms and spun Irene around to face him.
“If we can’t have the creature, no one will. We won’t risk your government finding the secret of the Bapet and using it against us.” Irene smiled. “It is better for us to die for the glory of Germany than to allow you pathetic Americans to discover our plans.”
“You’re willing to die for Hitler, to destroy an entire town?” Richard shouted.
“Of course they are.” A strained weak voice came from the rear door of the sheriff’s office. “I can tell you a few more details. Marvin Cox is the sleeper agent. He befriended Caruthers, gained the man’s trust, and murdered him when he returned to the farm.” Gus Smith staggered from the doorway. “The car accident was simply that, but it set the Bapet free.”
“The old fool is correct.” Irene ran her fingers through her hair. “Marvin Cox is an agent for the SD.”
“You knew about Caruthers’ murder?” Larry shook his head. “I knew you had a cold streak, but I never imagined how cold.”
A German soldier slipped his hand inside his uniform, his hand circled the pistol concealed in his waistband. He spun, the movement sudden and unexpected. The pistol bucked in his hands before Jenkins had a chance to move the rifle. The young man fell to the cold ground, the bolt-action slid from his hands.
Gus fired from the doorway. Three Nazi soldiers fell before the old man’s fury before a hail of bullets from the surviving trooper dropped him to the snow covered alley.
Death spat from the Luger in Richards’s fist. The bullets riddled the white uniform, bright crimson spots stained the pristine color. The SD trooper fell to his knees. His glazed eyes fastened on Irene as he fell on his face, the heavy metal helmet slid along the icy surface.
“I should kill you right now.” Richard turned the pistol on the female operative.
Larry ran to Jenkins’ side. He cradled the private’s head on his lap. “Fritz got me good.” A hacking cough rumbled deep in the private’s chest. A film of blood covered his lips. “I managed to take a few of these rats with me though…” His eyes turned skyward. He quivered and died.
“Check on Gus, I’ll keep our friend here covered.” He motioned with the pistol. “Get over by the door. If you try anything, I’ll kill you.”
Irene moved slowly, her fingers interlocked atop her head. “You can’t win here, Mr. Knight, in thirty minutes Wright City will cease to exist.”
Larry rose from Gus’ body, he shook his head slowly. “He’s still breathing. But he’s in a bad way.”
“How are you going to detonate the bombs?” Richard waved the pistol under her nose. “I won’t ask you again.”
“My plane, Mr. Knight, the bombs will be detonated from my plane.” A tall gray haired man stepped from behind the corner, his right leg wrapped in bandages from the knee to ankle. Two white clad soldiers flanked him on either side. “Unfortunately that will not happen. I can kill Mr. Doyle if I desire, but I wish to talk. The choice is yours.”
“I’ll kill Irene if you try anything.” Richard warned.
“She is of little consequence; her job is to die for the glory of the Fatherland.” He straightened his arm, centering Larry’s head in the sights. “Your time is running out.”
Richard tossed the Luger to a large mound of powder. “Let’s talk, Marvin.”
“I am Karl Schmidt. In the last war, I was called Herr Giest. I adopted the Marvin Cox name to keep Caruthers under observation.” He moved forward slowly, dragging the injured limb behind him. He nodded to the two men following him. They fanned out to the side, weapons pointed at Richard and Larry.
“I purpose a truce.” He grimaced in pain. Pink fluid seeped through the white bandages. “The Bapet injured me after I climbed from my plane, I can’t work the foot pedals. She is too powerful, too unpredictable. Unless we work together she will kill us all. If any of us are to survive, we must destroy her.”
“We cannot bargain with Americans.” Irene shook her head violently. “I will fly the plane. I will destroy this village and the beast.”
“Nein,” Schmidt shook his head. “The creature has nested near the planes. She waits in concealment for someone to cross her path. Anyone attempting to use the planes will be killed.”
“You tried to kill us a few minutes ago.” Knight turned to face Schmidt. “You speak very good English, by the way. I know you didn’t learn that in Deutschland.”
An evil smile creased Irene’s face. “All covert agents serving the Fatherland are trained and educated. We blend in with the native population. I attended Harvard; I have a degree in economics. Top of my graduating class, my instructors told me I have a great future in business.”
“Rest assured, Mr. Doyle, if I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t have missed. But enough of this banter,” Schmidt ordered. “My patience is wearing thin. Do we have an agreement?”
“I don’t believe this.” Larry turned to face Richard. “He wants us to fight a monster his people let escape.”
“These Americans cannot be trusted.” Irene protested. “The bombs will stop it and we can rid ourselves of Mr. Knight and his assistant.” A soldier’s dying scream echoed from the street, interrupting her protest.
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Richard stared at the injured ace. “You’re in my country, you’ve killed Americans and now you expect us to help you.”
“Mr. Knight, your time runs short. You can join with us or die now.” Schmidt aimed the pistol at Larry. “I will kill your simian friend in one minute.”
“All right,” Richard agreed. “We’ll help you stop this thing.” His blue eyes locked with Schmidt’s. “But when this is over, I’m going to kill you.”
“After I mend it will be an honor to meet you in the sky. I have knowledge of your skill as a pilot.” The German bowed slightly. “I haven’t killed an American ace in years.”
Irene returned the Luger to his hand. “I’ll be keeping my eyes on you, Mr. Knight. Do not attempt to deceive us.”
A smile creased Richard’s face. “Larry, take Gus into the sheriff’s office.” He turned to Schmidt. “Get your men inside the store across the street. I want all the guns on this creature.”
Schmidt shook his head. “Bullets will do nothing against her. It shrugs them off like flea bites.”
“If we hit it with enough firepower, it’ll go down.” He turned to Irene. “We’ll put this monster in a crossfire. Then we’ll see what it takes to kill her.” A grim light entered Richard’s eyes.
Larry struggled under the old soldier’s limp weight. “I’ll put him in one of the back cells. He should be safe there.” His gaze met Richard’s. “I’d feel a lot better about this if we were in the Northrop.”
“I know, me too.” Richard turned to the injured ace. “Come, Herr Giest. We have a monster to kill.”
***
She moved slowly through the empty streets. The smell of blood and slaughter thick around her, a line of congealed blood circled her large mouth. Crimson stained her arms to the elbows, her feet to the knees. She lifted a dead body from the litter. Sharp dagger like teeth sank into the cold flesh. She filled her gaping mouth but spit the cold mass to the ground.
She needed warm food to sustain her. A cold meal wouldn’t suffice when hot blood and firm flesh were available. She tilted her head skyward and sniffed the air. Her prey was near, very near. She would eat her fill before the night was through. Large feet pressed into the snow. Knife-like toenails clicked on the asphalt beneath. She followed the scent of food.
The odors came at her from either side of the narrow street. The Bapet moved silently into the alley approaching the building from the rear. Massive claw tipped hands reached out and pushed on the door. The locked door resisted her efforts. She struck the door with her shoulder. A crack appeared in the wood near the upper hinge.
The waiting German soldiers unleashed their fury. Bullets passed through the door, stinging her arms and chest. The creature threw back her shaggy head and roared in fury. Putting all her strength and weight behind it, her shoulder slammed the door.
The crack widened.
The firing within the store intensified. Large caliber bullets tore huge chunks from the solid wood. The Bapet struck a third time. The door broke in the center, half of it falling to the ground.
She leaped inside. A thick, squatty man attacked her, firing his pistol into her stomach at point blank range. The lead slugs did little more than aggravate the creature. She grabbed the man’s head and twisted savagely. The neck snapped like a dried stick. Her long sharp teeth sank into the tender flesh of his throat biting through to the spine. She swallowed the chunk whole.
The soldiers panicked, they shattered the glass windows and jumped to the street. She threw the blood drained body from her. The scraps could be eaten later if she desired. Now she wanted to fill her belly with the blood and flesh of the living.
***
“She outsmarted us,” Richard shouted. “The soldiers are under attack.” He swung the rifle to the shop front opposite the sheriff’s office. “Get ready she’ll be over here next.”
An injured soldier crawled away from the carnage. He pulled a grenade from his coat and threw the explosive through the shattered window. The building shook violently, smoke and dust gushing from the openings. The interior of the shop burst into flames.
The Bapet kicked the front door from the hinges and stepped from the inferno. Her large claw tipped hands shrank, loosing their rough scaly appearance, becoming more human. Her now slender hands reached up and plucked a jagged wood splinter from her shoulder. She licked her blood from the sharp edge and tossed the broken board into the street.
“There she is.” Richard centered the Luger on her chest.
“She doesn’t look like a monster.” Larry gazed through the windows. “I’ve dated girls that look worse than she does.” A comely naked woman stood before him. Her skin unblemished and flawless, dark hair shiny as a raven’s wing glinted in the twilight, collecting highlights from the flames behind her. A small pout formed on her perfect lips.
“Don’t let her appearance fool you,” Schmidt lifted the bolt action rifle to his shoulder. “She changes after she feeds, the effect doesn’t last long.” The appearance of beauty began to fade. A large withered crone stood in the beauty’s place.
“Put her down.” Richard squeezed the automatic’s trigger.
The wounded Bapet staggered under the heavy fire. The monster stumbled and fell to one knee.
“Pour it on,” Larry shouted. “She’s hurt.”
Thick greenish fluid leaked from the puckered wounds covering her body. The dagger-like teeth gritted together. The creature rose to her feet, staggering under the withering fire from the sheriff’s office. She lurched forward on unsteady feet.
“Keep it up. We can’t let her get inside,” Richard shouted.
“You’re going about this wrong.” Gus’ weak voice reached his ears. “You can’t stop her with bullets. They don’t affect her.” He staggered to the desk chair and collapsed into the chair.
“Don’t let up.” Richard ran to the old man’s side. He cradled the bloody face in his hands. “How do we stop her?” Richard shook him gently. “Gus, how do we stop her?”
The rheumy eyes opened slowly. Gus blinked several times trying to focus. “Dick, you need an obsidian arrowhead or a knife, that’s the only thing that’ll stop her.”
“Obsidian.” He rummaged through his pockets. “Like this.” He pulled the sharp pointed black stone from his pocket.
The old man nodded. “That’ll work, pity you don’t have the time to make an arrow and a bow.” A pain filled look wrinkled his features. “The Kaiser’s boys really nailed me this time.”
“I can rig up a spear.” He snatched a broom from the corner of the room and snapped the head from the shaft. Richard pulled a knife from his pocket and cut a slit into the jagged tip. He forced the black tip into the wood. “Will this work?”
Gus shook his head. “Too flimsy, you need to wrap something around the notches in the stone and around the shaft to give it strength.”
“Buy me some time,” Richard shouted. “I may be able to kill this thing.”
“You need to hurry, Dick. We’re running out of bullets.” Larry shouted in turn.
“Knight, we don’t have much time left,” Irene screamed. “She’s at the sidewalk now.”
“Fraulein, we must preserve the fighting spirit and pride of the German race.” Schmidt’s rifle clicked empty. He crawled toward the broken window. Lifting the weapon above his shoulder, he wiggled through the jagged glass and charged the advancing monster.
The rifle butt struck the Bapet on her slavering jaws. The mandible popped loudly, the creature’s head snapped to the side. A line of green drool dripped from the open mouth. Dark eyes fastened on the wounded man. Recognition slowly dawned in the dark inhuman eyes. A large scaly hand lashed out, landing on the German’s jaw. Schmidt flew through the air. His back slammed against the rock wall of the sheriff’s office. He wilted to the sidewalk like a ragdoll.
“Hurry up, Dick.” Larry yelled. “Mr. Ghost is down.”
Richard stripped the laces from his brogans; he wrapped the strings around the stone notches and tugged them tightly around the shaft. “I’m nearly finished, give me another minute.”
“We may not have another minute.” Irene fired her last bullet. She gripped the hot barrel of her weapon tightly, ready to go down fighting.
Larry centered the rifle’s sights on the creature’s eyes. “Maybe this will slow you down a little,” he mumbled, his finger gently closed on the trigger. The recoil drove the metal butt plate hard into his shoulder. The ex-marine worked the bolt, cycling his last round into the chamber.
A bright green splotch blossomed from the creature’s eye. It fell forward on its knees, head bowed toward the slick sidewalk. A low moan escaped the monster’s lips. The head lifted slowly. Its remaining eye locked on Larry.
“Why won’t you die?” Larry squeezed the trigger. The final bullet sailed true, striking the golden orb. A splash of green covered the Bapet’s face. She slumped to the concrete and lay still. “I did it,” Larry shouted. ‘I killed her.”
“Don’t go near that thing.” Richard pulled him away from the door.
“What are you doing?” Larry pulled away from his grasp.
“Gus told me about her. Bullets won’t kill her.” Richard gripped the makeshift spear tightly in his hands.
“And that will?” Irene demanded. “We put over a hundred bullets into that thing and you expect to stop her with a pointed stick?”
“If I’m right, she’s playing possum, waiting for one of us to get close.” Richard moved quietly to the door. The chain rattled as he removed the top latch. The knob turned easily under his hand. The door swung open on well oiled hinges. “Give her a few minutes,” he whispered. “See if she moves.”
“She can’t get up, not after all the damage we did to her.” Larry stared at the creature. The arms quivered. “I don’t believe it,” he mumbled taking a step back.
“You two get back to the rear door. If it gets past me you’ll have to run for it.” Richard stepped outside. The snow crunched under his feet.
Large claw tipped hands palmed the sidewalk. Muscles flexed and rippled under the skin. With a massive push, the creature raised its head and chest from the sidewalk. A dark pungent fluid drained from the empty eye sockets. The head swiveled. Her nose flared, isolating their scents.
A growl came from her inhuman throat. She pushed herself up to her knees and clambered awkwardly to her feet. Her claw tipped hands swiped the air, blindly searching for her victims. She staggered forward, arms constantly moving.
Richard gripped the spear with both hands. He dodged the searching arms and drove the black tipped stone through her tough hide. A scream erupted from her throat as the obsidian tip sank in her flesh.
A clubbing blow caught Richard’s shoulder. The arm numbed instantly. The misshapen hands closed on the shaft, pulling the spearhead from the wound. She smiled evilly, her pointed teeth on display.
Larry ran to Richard’s side. His hands wrapped around the broom handle and pushed. The sharpened stone disappeared under the leathery skin. The Bapet’s smile disappeared. A look of panic and pain stretched her face. The monster pushed back with all her strength.
Irene appeared behind them, adding her muscle and weight to the struggle. The extra mass drove the spear point deeply into the muscled chest. The creature stiffened, mouth opened in an inhuman scream, as the stone sliced into her beating heart. The Bapet collapsed, sinking to the icy sidewalk.
Richard gave the spear a final push. Satisfied the weapon had ended the monster’s life he walked away from the creature.
“Herr Knight,” Schmidt’s weak voice reached his ears. “I would like a word with you before I breathe my last breath.”
Richard staggered to his side. “Yes, Herr Giest.” He stood over the ace, staring into his dying eyes.
“I regret that we will not be able to meet each other in the air.” Blood flecks bubbled from Schmidt’s mouth collecting on his wrinkled chin. “We would have shared a glorious battle.”
Richard nodded. “I would have been honored to have met you in combat.”
“That was not to be.” His eyes grew heavy. Schmidt blinked slowly. His eyes remained closed for a longer interval each time. The chest movement grew weaker and weaker until it ceased.
Richard stared at the old pilot. “He was an honorable man.”
“It’s over.” Irene pulled a dagger from her rear pocket. “I’ll take my leave now.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Larry jumped into her path. “Going to make a report to Uncle Adolf?”
“Let her go, Larry.” He turned to face the Nazi agent. “Get out of my country. Tell your superiors that we’ll be ready for them if they decide to attack. Now leave and don’t return.”
The pair stood in the darkness, watching while the shadows swallowed Irene. Larry turned to Richard, his face hidden in shadow. “What are we going to do now?”
“We radio M and make our report and then we wait for more soldiers to arrive.” He ran dirty fingers through his unruly hair. “We’ve got to make sure no one removes that arrow.”
THE END