“This should do it. This should allow us some form of detail,” he said.
“Anything yet?” Dale asked.
“Nothing. They’ve moved deeper in. Let’s just hope it’s out of fear and not a trap.”
Before Dale could reply, Rivers gasped. “What? What happened?” Dale questioned.
“The drone. It just went down.”
“Did you crash it?”
“No… was nearing the end of the corridor and it…” Rivers paused, clicking a button, rewinding the feed. “Let’s find out what happened.”
Moments later they watched the video. It was quick, a mere flash. But something had shot out, smashed into the drone.
“Play that again,” Dale requested. “Slower, if you can.”
“Yup,” Rivers replied, slowing the video down to six frames a second. It didn’t take long before he saw it, and pushed a button quickly to freeze it. He opened his mouth, appalled. “What the hell is that, Dale?”
“It’s a fucking arm.”
“Looks it. Thing is, do you see one of them? I sure as hell don’t.”
“No, just an arm. Must be a crevice one’s hiding in. See, it reaches from that wall there.”
“A trap,” Rivers confirmed.
“Looks it.”
“One more thing,” Rivers said.
“Jeff, we need to move in. We have them on their heels. Time to get this shit done.”
“One sec,” Rivers said, fumbling with the last contents of his pack. He pulled out a dozen small items, then two dozen more.
“Those look like…”
“Snake drones, ten of ’em. And thirty mosquito drones. I’ll send them all at once. They’re faster, and will fill the cave. Maybe a few will get by. We can follow.”
“Do it!” Dale said. Then the team leader turned to his team. “Get ready, boys. Close quarters, three men in the front. Jefferson, Clements and Thompson will go first. Clements, get that M240 pumping once you see any signs. We won’t rely on our night vision. Too much of chance of it going down. Attach your flashlights, turn them on. It’s time.”
The men hustled. Clements loaded another magazine drum, a hundred .30 caliber rounds attached. Three more were at his disposal. He attached his light, turning it on. It provided some light in the dark cave entrance.
Jefferson also got ready. He slid his M4 to his side, opting for some more firepower. He pulled out his backup, an AA-12 automatic shotgun. He attached the thirty round drum, flicking on his spotlight, taking stance next to Clements.
Thompson stood next to his friends, his brothers. This was it. This was why they were the best of the best. They overcame their fears, knowing they’d meet their deaths. Thompson reloaded a new magazine into his M4 Carbine, readied his muzzle into the cave.
“All right, I’m ready,” Rivers stated. He flicked a few more buttons and all at once the miniature drones came to life. The snakes, a mere foot in length, began to slither in the sand. Rivers guided them as they moved quickly along the ground, entering the cave.
Next came the drone mosquitoes. They hummed, scrambled in a swarm yet not hitting into one another, and also entered the cave. They swarmed in, a cloud of miniature insects. Their scanners were sensitive, they’d detect any movement. The snakes would test for vibrations on the floor of the cave, perhaps let the team know if the creatures were coming.
With the tablet in his left hand, his AK-47 in his right, Rivers nodded to Dale. “Let’s do this.”
Dale commanded the team into the cave, following the drones.
110
Reynolds scrambled down the incline, moving faster and faster. He hurried down the rocks, pushing past shrubbery, all the while looking for targets. He found none. Reynolds would sprint twenty feet, stop, and scan his surroundings.
Then, he’d do it again.
On and on. Downward, racing, praying against all odds he’d find the team in time. What could he do to help? Were they still alive? What were those actually monsters he had seen?
He kept moving. Nearing the bottom, the man was short of breath. He began his final descent when he heard it — a noise high above. A noise that caught his attention. A noise that he knew well.
A Gulfstream airplane.
“That doesn’t make sense. Sounds close,” he mumbled.
Then, to his horror, Colonel Reynolds saw it. Looking up, in the moonlight, he caught a glimmer, a flash of motion. Staring hard now, Reynolds noticed something floating down. At first, he thought it was perhaps one of them. One of those creatures. Taking cover and watching carefully, he finally made out the shape.
Someone was parachuting down.
Reinforcements, Reynolds hoped. Thing is, he knew better. He saw but one, and only one. A lone figure spiraling down, landing on the top of a ledge, a hundred meters above the cave’s opening.
Reynolds thought it strange. Why only one? But he knew there’d be no backup, no calling in the cavalry, no help. They were alone in this valley. Alone to die.
Who could it be?
Then it dawned on Reynolds.
He hurried farther down, moving faster. He neared the trailhead, looked up, staring at the cave. Reynolds took in a breath, gripping his Remington tight. He adjusted the scope as far back as it would go—4X. It widened his field of view. He then reached down, patting his father’s .45. It was chambered, hot, hammer back and ready.
He moved forward, speaking into his mic. “Delta One, come in,” Reynolds said, attempting to reach Dale Comstock.
Nothing.
“Hollywood One, you there?” he asked, seeking Rivers.
Only garbled static followed.
Discouraged, he nearly gave up. Then, for a brief moment, he heard something. A pop, maybe words. Reynolds adjusted his radio dial, calling to the team once more.
“Delta One?”
“Delta Two?”
“Hollywood One?”
A few more pops and he got a response. His suspicions were true, and he gasped as the voice responded.
“Sierra Bravo Four, this is Hotel Bravo,” Elizabeth said.
“Command!” Reynolds said enthusiastically. “I hear you. You’re broken, but I hear you.”
“Roger that,” Elizabeth replied. “You’re muffled, but I have reception, as well. Where’s the team?”
“I don’t have a visual, Hotel Bravo. Heading up the trail. I heard a jet. It was close, east side of the ridge. What the hell is going on?”
“It’s me,” Elizabeth said. She unstrapped herself from the parachute, allowing it to float away, making sure her gear was intact. She un-slung her MP5, checking the action and making sure it was ready. Safety off, fully automatic. Elizabeth then adjusted the heavy pack strapped to her, making sure it was tight.
It was dark out, and she took a moment to allow her eyes to adjust. Scanning the ground, she looked for the entrance — a side route she believed existed.
She hoped.
She prayed.
“Hotel Bravo, this is Sierra Bravo Four,” Reynolds said. “Who parachuted in?”
“I did. I’m headed into the cave.”
“Say what?” Reynolds exclaimed, now running up the trail as fast as he could.
“This is Hot Bitch, and I said I’m going in,” Elizabeth answered.
“You can’t do that!”
“Stop me,” she dared, eyes searching. Where was the entrance?
“Are you alone, Hotel Bravo?” he asked.
“I am. You’re to get our men out. Do it now. There’s too many of them. I repeat, their numbers are more than we expected. Get them out now!”
“I will. Now what the hell are you doing?” Reynolds asked, breathing heavy as he ran.
“I’ve got a surprise for these fucks,” she said. “Something to distract them while you get the men out.”