“Agent Blaine?” one of the scientists was looking up at the two men, lifting his gloved hand in a half-wave.
“What is it?” Blaine replied, walking over.
McLeod followed him and now, for the first time, he could see the scientist had tweezers, and one of the broken pieces of containment unit was clasped between the tongs.
“At first we thought these pieces were broken pieces of the cage our friend escaped from,” said the scientist, standing as he carefully held out the tweezers at arm’s length.
“Okay?” Blaine asked, obviously not quite following.
“They’re not. They’re broken pieces of…”
There was a moment of silence. Some sort of strange contemplation.
“Of what?” Blaine asked, insistent.
“Uhhh... egg, sir. They appear to be pieces of an egg.”
The night grew quieter. McLeod was pretty sure the only place with less noise right now was the surface of the moon.
“I don’t understand,” Blaine replied.
The third scientist approached, looking stricken and pale. “Agent Blaine?”
McLeod stood watching this entire exchange. He could almost guess the next words that were spoken.
“This isn’t our subject.”
“Tell me that again,” Blaine replied, and McLeod saw a thin layer of sweat start to glisten at the man’s hairline.
“This creature... it appears to be an offspring.”
“How is that even possible?” Blaine demanded.
“We don’t have all the data, sir—”
“You don’t have the fucking data? God dammit!”
The shout’s echo hung, a dozen other voices yelling back across the wooded terrain.
“So what now?” he turned to ask the scientist.
“Uh, boss?”
McLeod looked up to Landry’s voice as the man walked slowly towards him, a phone in hand. “You may want to look at this.” McLeod snatched it, looked at it then closed his eyes.
“What now?” he asked softly. “Here’s what now.”
Turning the phone, so it’s face was pointing at Blaine, he thrust it forward. The mobile version of CNN looked back at the two men, headline thick and bold:
BREAKING:
CORPSES FOUND NEAR CENTRAL PARK. SUSPECTED WILD ANIMAL ON THE LOOSE
McLeod watched as Blaine closed his eyes and drew a deep, rattling breath then turned to his men. “Shadows, let’s load up! This job ain’t done. We’re goin’ to the big smoke!”
This was a new sensation, even for Williamson, who was the eldest member of the Shadows. His legs hung out the opened cargo door of the black Bell 412 as it swung gracefully downward, then banked slightly, adjusted and swooped forward, skimming past the New York City skyline. Combat operation in the Big Apple... who’d a thunk it?
“Blaine,” barked the Shadows team leader from the co-pilot seat of the same chopper Williamson sat in.
“We are moving West toward 116th Street, please advise our path is still cleared by the FAA?”
“Affirmative, McLeod, you are cleared.”
“Roger. ETA is four minutes.” On his lap McLeod held a folder with a number of images inside, quickly gathered-together briefings for this operation. Besides a marked map of Central Park itself, there were a few images of a live version of the creature they had killed in rural Connecticut. Dead snake-like eyes glaring at whoever was taking the picture, the elongated snout curling, thick pasta strands of hair stretching down over its head and front haunches. Muscles bulged just beneath the smooth, reptilian skin, membranes of thick sinew stretching at the crook of its legs and torso. Its ribs almost looked to fold in upon itself, a long tail behind it. Tufts of thin hair were scattered about the smooth body, but barely covered the gray-green slime of its skin’s surface.
This thing hadn’t been born. Oh hell no – it had been made. Mankind tempting fate and playing with Mother Nature. Now Mother Nature was playing back.
Central Park was coming up on the south, and he could feel the helicopter drifting downwards.
McLeod reached into one of the pockets of his tactical vest and peeled out a small, crinkled piece of paper, unfolding it as the city lights converged into yellow-white streams all around him. He looked down into the eyes of his two children, who looked up at him adoringly from one of the few photographs he had of them. Tomorrow began his weekend with them, and it had taken a lot of convincing to get Julia to agree to that. If he missed this chance, he might just blow this whole shared custody thing completely.
He traced his index finger over their innocent faces; faces which would hopefully never know the horror of the thing he just saw. If he had his way, nobody would ever see that thing or anything like it again.
“Bringing us in!” shouted Wilcox back to the cargo bay. Agent Blaine sat there alongside Williamson, Landry, Schmidt, Berger, and Tree – the five of them clutching their M4 Carbine automatic weapons, still fitted with the silencers and infrared scopes. The atmosphere was dead serious. McLeod was convinced that no matter what else happened tonight, everyone on this operation would sleep a little less soundly from here on.
Nightmares were real, and they had lots of fucking nasty teeth.
Tilting at an angle, the black helicopter eased toward the north side of Central Park where several emergency vehicles had set up a rudimentary perimeter. As the helicopter drifted to the ground, Craig ‘Duck’ Williamson, couldn’t help but wonder just how this creature had made it this far... it wasn’t like Central Park was around the corner from New Haven, Connecticut. And nobody had seen this creature slinking along interstate 95 on its way south?
The helicopter set down on the concrete sidewalk just off West 110th Street, the officers clutching their hats to keep them from flying off from the circular whirlwind of the helicopter blades.
“Never seen animal control piloting one of those mother fuckers before!” shouted one of them as he stared out through the blowing dust.
The moment the wheels touched down, black shapes hurled from the copter in well-choreographed motion, hitting the ground and running in formation deeper inside. The North Woods section of Central Park was thick and solid, a wall of trees concealing the deeper side of the park from the metropolitan hustle and bustle, and the Shadows immediately moved towards that tree growth, weapons pulled tight, safeties off and night vision goggles swung over their eyes. As soon as they hit the trees, the cityscape seemed to jolt away. It didn’t fade, it just abruptly halted, as if a mute button was thumbed just as they crossed the perimeter into the wooded area.
“Fan out,” McLeod said softly.
The other Shadows acknowledged and did so. To his left, Tree and Schmidt veered east, while Williamson and Berger peeled away and traveled west. Landry came up on McLeod’s six, continuing their path due south.
To the east, Tree approached the edge of the small forest, his weapon trained into the empty area beyond, his heart a rapid hammer as if pounding down the wall of his ribs.
“Clear so far,” he whispered, then stopped.
“What is it?” Schmidt’s finger tensed by the trigger of his automatic.
“I... I’m not sure.”
Dan Tree was a well-oiled military machine, back from his Delta days, though he did sometimes struggle with orders. It wasn’t his skills that had gotten him escorted from the Special Forces, it was an attitude issue and the fact there was very little he took seriously.
This situation he was taking quite seriously indeed.
“Something’s here,” he said. His eyes adjusted slightly to the green fuzz of night vision, but he pulled them closed, focusing instead on his other senses. He couldn’t hear anything outside the normal nocturnal noises, but there was something tingling... something familiar. “You smell that?” he asked, remaining frozen in place.