"Are you OK?"
Merrit blinked. "Yes."
"You cried out. Get some more sleep. I talked with Colonel Hossey. You'll be going in with Riley at first light to look over the lair at the cliff."
"All right." As Merrit lowered her head, thoughts of the Synbats filled her mind.
"Tango Two Seven, are you in place? Over."
"This is Two Seven. Roger. We've got you covered. Over."
Riley swung his arm over his head, toward shore. The four Zodiacs pulled on line, an M60 machine gunner in each prow, covering the advance. Three other Zodiacs, with men from another team, stayed offshore to give supporting fire if needed. Two A teams were positioned on top of the cliff to give covering fire and stop any Synbats that might try to escape in that direction, if by some chance they had returned to their lair.
Overhead, General Williams was flying in his command and control (C & C) Blackhawk helicopter, monitoring the radio net. Riley had a PRC-77 strapped to his back, with the headset tied off to the front of his combat vest on the left shoulder.
He reached up with his left hand and pressed the transmit button. "We're moving in. Over."
There were no signs of Synbats as the boats beached and Riley's team secured the area. He had his men clear fifty meters in each direction, making sure that at least the level ground was free of the creatures. The Synbats could be hiding on the rock face, but he had to count on the men in the boats and on top of the cliff to take care of that.
Satisfied that he had a relatively safe beachhead, Riley pressed the transmit button on the handset. "Clear down here. Bring in Merrit. Over."
A fifth Zodiac beached. Doctor Merrit stepped off, and Riley and Powers greeted her. The sergeant major pointed. "The dead horses are up here. We removed the woman's body last night. She was found over there."
They moved to the base of the cliff. Riley pulled out a machete and hacked at the undergrowth, gradually revealing more of the horses.
He noted that Merrit was either getting used to the sight of death or she was detaching herself from reality as she spoke. "The four Synbats that escaped were very cunning. I'd guess they drove the horses from the campsite where the Werners were killed to this point, then off the cliff face. Then they must have split. You chased two of them to the west, but the other two must have stayed here, hoping they'd escape the search. In fact, the two you chased were probably a diversion to lead you away. I'm sure they kept both sets of pods here." She bent over the horses, the stench apparently not affecting her, and pointed. "Look at these cuts in the rib cage. I think they planned on planting the pods inside the horses' bodies. That would ensure an adequate supply of food when the pods hatched, at least for a while, even if the other two had to leave this location and lead you away if need be."
The radio squawked. "This is Tango Two Seven. We're going over the edge. Over."
Riley looked up as ropes were thrown over the lip of the cliff. Men with submachine guns slung over their shoulders backed over the edge and slowly started rappeling their way down, sticking the snout of their guns in every crack and crevice that could possibly hide a Synbat.
Riley doubted they'd find anything, but it was worth checking out. He returned his attention to the base. "Since we took this site away from them, what do you think they'll do now? Find a similar area and do the same thing?"
Merrit nodded. "Their primary concern will be a food source for the young. Although they are omnivorous, they will most likely be looking for meat, because that would be the most readily available food source in quantity."
Riley pulled out his map and spread it on the ground, squatting down and looking it over. "Where would you go if you needed meat, Dan?"
Powers knelt next to him. "Plenty of deer out here."
"But they'd have to hunt it. I don't think they can run down a deer, and I'm sure they won't use their weapons for that. It would give away their position." Riley shook his head. "No, I'm talking something easier than that."
Powers stabbed a thick finger down on the map. "I'd go there."
The day passed with aircraft and humvees traversing the park with loudspeakers, advising all people to leave the area. The exodus slowed to a trickle by afternoon. For the past two hours, all the roadblocks had reported negatively when asked if people were still leaving. There had been no sign of the Synbats throughout the day. No sightings, no trails, no contacts — nothing.
General Williams was fighting his primary battle not with the Synbats but with the news media, who were gathering like locusts around the perimeter, demanding to know what was going on. Two news helicopters from Nashville had tried penetrating the aerial perimeter and been turned back by gunships. The cover story was holding so far, although there had been interviews with some of the Civil War reenactors, which had confused the situation somewhat.
The thump of helicopter blades echoed across the sky and a flight of OH-6 Special Operations helicopters flew by. The single-rotor helicopters were flown by the Nightstalkers — members of Special Operations Task Force 160. The two-man aircraft had advanced night vision and thermal sights on board and a 7.62mm minigun slung off one skid. For tonight's mission, the aircraft would fly in pairs, searching the area in a grid pattern that the operations officer had spent the entire day carefully laying out. Come dark, they would fire on any two-legged, two-armed image that didn't have fluorescent tape marking it as friendly.
Powers scanned the pasture. The bison were stirring. The disturbance started from the far side and spread until the entire herd was alert. As Powers watched, the animals gathered together in a tight defensive perimeter, as far from the fences as they could get, the massive males on the outside, the females and the young on the inside.
The radio was a low, annoying buzz in his ear as the TOC coordinated the various elements that would begin the aerial search in six minutes. Powers and his team were hidden on a small hill overlooking the buffalo range. They'd been there for six hours, ever since Powers and Riley had convinced Colonel Hossey that the penned-in animals would make a tempting target for the Synbats and that the abandoned barn on the side of the field might make a good hideout for the creatures. Powers felt more worthwhile waiting here than sitting around at the TOC.
The sun was about down and the twilight made for very difficult viewing. Powers pulled his night vision goggles down over his eyes and turned them on. The range, fenced with barbwire, bordered the Trace on the side opposite Powers and his team.
"Be ready," Powers whispered. "Something's got the buffalo spooked."
On either side of him, men turned on their rifle night vision scopes; invisible laser beams licked out across the open field, probing the far tree line.
Two low-lying silhouettes broke out of the tree line on the far side of the road. Powers could barely make them out through the goggles, but he didn't want to take any chances. He gave the order while the shadowy figures were at the edge of the Trace. With a crack, two rifles sounded in concert.
Powers limped back down the hill and hopped into his humvee. His driver cranked the engine and they roared around the dirt trail circumventing the range.
The headlights illuminated the scene as the driver brought the humvee to a halt. Powers leapt from the vehicle, rifle at the ready. There were two bodies. The first dog — a scraggly Airedale — lay dead, shot through the chest. The second — a golden retriever, its coat almost black from dirt — lay panting, blood trickling from the bullet wound in its left foreleg.