Both built like linebackers, they stood on the bank of the river in full combat gear, most of which they began to strip off as the reality of their mission hit them.
“Uncle Vinny?” Max called into his com. “Are we sure about this?”
“Get in the water, Max,” a gruff voice replied in Max’s right ear.
“Wouldn’t mind a little more backup,” Shane said into his com. “Ginormous snake and all.”
“We’re busy!” Vincent Thorne replied.
Former commandant of the Navy SEALs BUD/S training, Vincent Thorne was leader of the private special ops team known as Grendel. He was a “by the book” man and not one to mince words or take excuses. Unfortunately for him, his nephews were neither “by the book” nor did they have a problem mincing words despite their years of experience as Navy SEAL snipers.
Thorne blamed all the weed the two brothers smoked.
“How busy?” Max asked. “Like gonna be a few minutes busy or gonna be—”
Intense gunfire erupted over the comm and both brothers winced before shoving their fingers into their ears to adjust their com devices.
“Right. That kind of busy,” Max said.
“Carlos? Ingrid? Who do we have on the com who can assure us that these compression suits we’re wearing will protect us from this giant snake?”
“Ginormous snake,” Max corrected.
“Ginormous snake,” Shane echoed.
The gunfire on the com was silenced as a new voice responded. “Uh, well,” Team Grendel’s lead tech, Carlos, replied, clearing his throat, “we cannot guarantee that the compression suits will be one hundred percent effective against the snake.”
“Ginormous snake,” Max said.
“Too much, bro,” Shane said.
“Sorry,” Max replied. “It’s just fun to say.”
“I hear that,” Shane replied. “But, time and place, dude.”
“Totally get that. No problem,” Max said. “I’ll let the word lie and bring it back later. Timing.”
“Timing,” Shane agreed.
“Do you two want to hear what I have to say or not?” Carlos snapped over the comm.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Carlos, are we inconveniencing you?” Max snapped back. “Is the fact we’re about to dive into muddy, microbe-infested water and chase down a twenty-meter snake annoying you?”
“Thirty,” Carlos replied.
“Excuse me, what?” Shane asked. “I thought Ballantine said it was twenty?”
“No, Ballantine said it was twenty meters long the last time it was spotted,” Carlos replied. “He gave the files to Gunnar and Gunnar now believes the snake could be at least thirty meters long.”
“That’s like ninety feet,” Max said. “Sorry, bro, but I have to say it: This is not only a ginormous snake, it’s a ginormous hell snake.”
“Yeah, I’ll go along with that,” Shane said. He shook his head. “Better get to it then.” He shrugged and looked at his brother. His brother shrugged and looked at the water. Then the two of them stripped their gear off until they were down to the compression suits they wore underneath their BDUs.
The compression suits were wet suits on steroids. Similar in look but with the ability to stabilize the pressure around the wearer. Designed to allow the wearer to handle rapid descent and ascent during ocean dives without risking the bends, the suits were also pretty much bulletproof and knife proof. Maybe on the knife-proof.
Only, the knife-proof aspect was the specification the Reynolds brothers hoped was true. No ginormous hell snake was going to be firing an M4 at them, but the thing would have very large, very sharp teeth. Neither of the brothers enjoyed dealing with creatures that sported very large, very sharp teeth.
Yet, that was their job and while the rest of Team Grendel fought off hyper-adrenalized cannibals in a different part of the jungle, the Reynolds had been assigned the mission of tracking (done), finding (about to be done), and killing (dear God, please) the ginormous hell snake. Short straw was an understatement.
Standing only in their compression suits, the Reynolds each held black items slightly larger than harmonicas, if harmonicas also had a set of goggles attached. Both brothers shivered at the thought of what the items did.
“Mustaches. Ugh,” Shane said.
“Please refrain from referring to them as mustaches,” Carlos said over the com. “They are highly specialized rebreathers that—”
“Shut up, Carlos,” Max responded. “You’re not the one that has to put this thing on and let those tendril thingies get all jammed up into your sinuses then down your throat, into your trachea, and all that crap!”
“That was an apt description of what these things do,” Shane said.
“I listened during the first briefing,” Max said. “Try it.”
“I might do that,” Shane said with a smirk.
“Here goes absolutely nothing,” Max said and he affixed the “mustache” to his upper lip. The item instantly reformed to fit his face. Then tendrils shot out of the device and up Max’s nose. Max bent over and put his hands on his knees during the process. There was a good amount of gagging and muffled cursing before he straightened up again. He gave his brother a thumbs-up.
“Screw you,” Shane said and copied what Max had done, including the gagging and cursing.
“Testing com,” Max said.
“I can hear you,” Carlos said.
“Me too?” Shane asked.
“Yep.”
“Good. Now get off the com and get us Gunnar,” Max snapped. “Done talking with you.”
“Whatever,” Carlos said, and the com went dead.
“We might have wanted to chat first about the rifles.” Shane looked at the two experimental weapons on the ground next to their packs. “He said they could be twitchy.”
“I wish we could use our own rifles,” Max said, picking up one of the weapons. “This just doesn’t replace the feel of having a .300 WinMag in my hands.”
“Speak for yourself,” Shane said, picking up the other weapon. “My .338 MacMilan beats your WinMag any day.”
“Agree to never agree with you ever,” Max said. “Mainly because you’re stupid.”
“Hey, boys,” Gunnar Peterson, Chief Science Officer for Grendel, called over the com. “Ready to hunt a snake?”
“Don’t,” Shane said, pointing at Max.
“I wasn’t going to say ginormous hell snake,” Max said with a smirk, which was hard to do around the mustache rebreather on his face.
“Goggles.” Shane depressed a button on the side of his rebreather. “Oooh, night tech. Nice.”
“Yeah, you’ll need that,” Gunnar replied. “When you get into the water, you’ll want to stay close to the river bank. Find a deep hole and dive. Then look for the den opening. This type of snake will burrow into the riverbed to create an underground home to give birth in.”
“It stays in the water the whole time?” Max asked as he activated his goggles. “Oooh, yeah, this night tech is great. It’s adjusting to the daylight and shadows at the same time. Sweet.”
“Titanoboa does not stay in the water the whole time,” Gunnar replied. “The entrance tunnel to the den will be submerged, but the main area will be above the waterline.”
“Great,” Shane said, not convinced it was at all.
“All we have to do is get in there and kill it, right?” Max asked.
“And make sure it’s alone,” Gunnar replied. “Hopefully, there aren’t more.”
“Ballantine said the lab only created one,” Shane said.
“Yeah, but it’s Ballantine and that golf pro-looking dude always lies,” Max responded.
“Too true, bro,” Shane agreed.