Read Beneath a Winter Moon Online
Authors: Shawson M Hebert
Beneath a Winter Moon (51 page)
Snow grimaced, but nodded. “That’ll do.”
Deluth laughed. “That’ll do,” he said, mockingly. He looked over to Kaley and Huth. “Don’t you just love this guy?”
They arrived at the airfield about an hour later, and Sorret drove them out to the RAF hanger. When the van stopped, Huth and Kaley jumped out to open the massive hanger doors. Once inside, they closed the doors behind them. Deluth opened up the back and hopped out. He motioned for Snow to jump down.
“You will like this. What we have here is a CH-146, fully armed and prepped for nasty cold-weather flying. Sorret is your gunner and your crew-chief, all in one. Kaley will be your co-pilot, but trust me, you don’t want to hand over the controls to him.”
Kaley walked past Deluth just as he pontificated on his flying abilities. Deluth slapped Kaley on the back. Without further commands, Huth, Sorret, and Kaley began
unstrapping
Alan and moving him to the gurney.
“When the weather is right, and I mean as soon as I decide that we can fly, we fly. So, get ready, lieutenant.”
Snow folded his arms. “If you have the aircraft, that means you have the pilots. I don’t get why it needs to be me.”
“Can’t use the military. Can’t even let them know about this operation, other than that their aircraft have been commandeered by the Prime Minister’s orders. I can utilize their gear, lieutenant, but I can’t utilize their men. So, you are my guy.”
Snow sighed.
“It’s alright lieutenant. You will be fine. You have a great flight record and are qualified for both extreme weather flying and night flights in all conditions. That is what we need, and you are what we got.”
Deluth helped his men lower Alan down from the van. Snow was amazed that he was still out cold, and realized that he had not been given a sedative—it had to have been a heavy tranquilizer. Snow leaned over to get a closer look at Alan as they pushed him by.
Kaley saw Snow’s frown and chuckled. “He’s fine, lieutenant. Believe me, I could probably cut out his heart and if we gave him a few hours, he’d be right as rain. It’s pretty wild. I suppose the tradeoff is a bitch, though. You know, fleas, ticks…mange.”
Huth and Sorret chuckled, but Snow didn’t think it was funny. None of this would ever be the source of a joke for him. It was a nightmare, and he could not wait to get away from it all.
“Hey, lieutenant,” Huth said loudly as they moved the gurney toward the back of the building. “There is a footlocker strapped under the driver’s side bench in the back—and a hand-truck strapped to one of the rear doors. Why don’t you truck that locker into this room.” He gestured toward a room in the rear of the hanger.
The men wheeled Alan into the sturdy room that looked as if it had once been a small maintenance area. Once inside, the men waited for Snow, who made his way there after a few minutes.
Snow hefted the hand-truck into the upright position and Huth immediately opened the footlocker, revealing more chains—heavier and with the chains were two odd locking mechanisms. As Snow watched, the men wrapped the heavy chain around both the gurney and Alan’s sleeping form. Once they had wrapped until no more links remained, they attached the locking mechanisms to each end, one on Alan’s chest, and one at his feet.
“Isn’t that overkill?” Snow asked.
Deluth stepped into the room. “No, it’s not. The last son of a bitch went through a chain just like this, and then tore open the bars of an old jail cell.” He shook his head. “He should not transform, but if he does, the two chains together should hold. I wouldn’t trust just the one, even though the tinsel strength is higher than any other chain of its size…and most chains that are much larger.”
“So, now what do we do,” Snow asked.
“First, we get changed into more comfortable clothing,” Deluth said, pointing to Kaley, who had grabbed two large duffel bags, carrying them toward the makeshift jail cell. “Then you, Kaley, and Sorret can prep your helicopter. I will monitor the weather and let our people know that Alan is ready to go. That’s it for now. Hurry up and wait.” He sat down in an old cast iron chair. “Oh—and I don’t know if I have said this yet. No phone calls. To anyone.”
Kaley opened up the duffels and began tossing snow-patterned camouflage uniforms. He smiled at Snow. “We’ve even got a pair that should fit you, lieutenant. All the way down to your socks, anyway. You will have to keep your own boots.”
“Swell,” Snow answered, catching a pair of pants in midair
They all changed into the uniforms. Snow sat down on the floor of the hanger outside Alan’s cell, lacing up his boots and tying off the straps at the cuffs of his trousers. Kaley stepped in front of him and dropped a white balaclava into his lap. “You don’t have to wear that, but the ear flaps on these are just fucking amazing.” Kaley smiled, and once again Snow noticed the long scar took on that distinct L-shape again.
“Thanks,” Snow said. “I didn’t bring head gear.”
Kaley reached down and slapped him on the shoulder. “Can’t have our pilot sitting out there in the wild, his ears freezing and shit.”
“Are you really a doctor?” Snow asked. “Because you just don’t strike me as the type.”
Kaley laughed at that. “Hell no, lieutenant. Though I did go through some extensive combat lifesaver training when I was with the Navy Seals.”
Ah, Snow thought. At least that explained the distinctly non-Canadian accent.
“Yeah, I was with a team for nine years. I graduated from LSU and commissioned myself into the Navy. Went to flight school and became a pilot, flying everything from little birds to Blackhawks. I jumped at the chance to become a Seal. Those were some awesome times.”
“Don’t pay any attention to his bullshit,” Huth said, rolling his eyes. He walked over to stand beside Kaley.
“It’s all true,” Kaley said, contritely.
Huth nodded. “I didn’t say you were lying. I was just warning the lieutenant of the bullshit that would come later.” He slapped Kaley on the shoulder and walked toward the cell.
Snow noticed that they seemed to really get into slapping and poking.
“Anyway, as I was saying—so I was a SEAL for some years, and here I am now.”
“Why
Canada
?” Snow asked, not sure why he cared.
“Followed a friend up here. He was from
Vancouver
and we were going to start a business together.” Kaley looked down at the floor and half turned away. “Didn’t work out.
Snow looked behind Kaley and saw Sorret shake his head and move his finger across his throat in a cutting motion and then nod towards Alan’s cell. Snow understood. Somehow,
Kaley’s
friend was either killed by a werewolf—or worse—was one. Snow felt a jolt of sorrow for the man, and thought that maybe he understood Kaley, (of all people), a little better.
“But I met the Captain there, who was just a lieutenant at the time, and I became a part of this wonderful group, here.” Kaley threw up his arms and stepped away, toward the helicopter. “And now here we are.”
Snow grimaced, and nodded. He wanted to say something, but didn’t know what, so he just said, “Here we are.”
Kaley chuckled and motioned for Snow to come on.
It took them less than an hour to fully prep the yellow and red CH-146 helicopter. Sorret checked the weapon system, which included a 7.62mm
minigun
mounted on the starboard side. The aircraft and crew were equipped with night vision. Snow had logged many hours in this general type of aircraft, as it was the preferred workhorse of the RAF and the RCMP. He was not looking forward to using it today.
Just after the flight check was finished, Deluth came out to talk with Snow and the others. Snow was sitting in the pilot’s seat, his head back, daydreaming about better times, when Deluth called him down.
“In about an hour, a vehicle is coming for our boy. They are not satisfied that this weather will break, so they have taken what I think is a bad option, and will be transporting him by ground to a second, unknown location…to wait for the weather to clear. Seems they do not want him here, and I suppose that’s fine by me, so long as they don’t muck it up and let the bastard go.”
Kaley shook his head. Huth frowned and said, “Damned bureaucrats. They don’t understand a damned thing. Traveling out there on those roads in this weather is a hell of a lot worse than keeping him locked up right here.”
Sorret, who had barely said anything since all of this began, agreed. “If they get him out on the road, and he wakes up after nightfall…things might get bad.” He spit on the floor. “You know who they will call when things get bad?”
Kaley nodded. “Us.”
“Exactly.”
Deluth held up a hand. “They won’t be traveling at night. They aren’t that stupid. So, let’s just go along. I’m telling you this now so there is no pissing contest when they come to get him.”
The men mumbled, but did not argue the matter. Snow didn’t give it much thought. He pictured Alan, unconscious and wrapped in chains that an elephant couldn’t break through, and the thought of him doing anyone harm just would not compute. He went back to the helicopter and climbed into the passenger seat. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask Deluth. More about the team and more about their past encounters, but he told himself that it would be better if he knew as little as possible. Just as he settled in, Deluth appeared, carrying a rolled up, laminated map.
“Here. This is marked with Jeremiah’s cabin and a few other points of interest. You’ll notice a couple of caverns that are pretty large and could be used as shelter. Plot all of these coordinates and program the names in, so that if we get out there and I need you, they are all predetermined and ready.”
Snow took the maps. “Got it.”
“You will see that there are twelve
POIs
. It’s a lot, but plot them all. Most don’t have explanations, just the location. You don’t have to know why I have selected them all, but if you want, I can tell you about each one.”
Snow shook his head, “That’s alright, captain. I’ll have them all ready.”
“Good man,” Deluth said, slapping Snow on the shoulder. “I wish I’d have met you before now, lieutenant. You’re my kind of man.”
God help me
, Snow thought. He said nothing in reply.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Over here,” Thomas called out. He was standing deep in the back of the cavern, barely visible. He lowered his voice. “There’s an opening here.” He took a moment to unhook Jack’s leash and bring him over into a dark section near the back wall a few feet from the hole. He tethered the leash to a stalagmite.
Delmar started to move that way, but stopped after a few steps. He could make out Gore-Tex in the dimly-lit pile of gore. He squatted, reached down and grabbed the Gore-Tex and pulled. He scrambled backward, as Daniel’s mauled, lifeless face lolled upward at him, blank eyes staring and mouth open in a silent scream. He fell, then rolled and stood up again. He wiped mist from his eyes and looked at Thomas, who had come to his side. “It’s Daniel.”
Thomas nodded, then turned away, gritting his teeth and putting a wrist against his mouth.
“Daniel,” Delmar said. “Poor Daniel.” He turned away as well. “I suppose it’s good that we know. I guess we knew already—but now….”
“Now we can be positive. There’s something good in that, I suppose.”
They stood for a moment, avoiding each other’s gaze.
Thomas moved to the right and knelt down, gripping stones and moving them away from the cavern wall. “We are going to get out of here, Delmar, and we are going to kill that sonofabitch.” He paused. “Come. Take a look”
Delmar looked down at Thomas, puzzled.
Thomas pointed his flashlight. “Look there.”
They heard the shot just as the sand in front of Delmar’s right leg exploded. Delmar cursed and fell to his left, hitting the cavern wall with a loud thud. “Son of a bitch!”
Thomas quickly stood and grabbed his friend, dragging him a few feet away, into a darker section of the back wall.
“Lucky bastard got a bead on my flashlight.” Delmar groaned as he surveyed his leg. He laughed, his voice filled with sarcasm, “At least now we know that the asshole can’t shoot worth a shit. He wouldn’t have been aiming just for my leg, now, would he?” He gritted his teeth in agony as the shock wore off and the real pain began.
Thomas knelt down to look at his friend’s wounded leg, but without the flashlight, it was difficult to see the damage. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t—unless he just wanted to piss you off.” He took his knife and split the Gore-Tex in a vertical line above the bullet-hole.
Delmar growled in pain. “Take it easy,
damnit
!” He leaned back. “Sweet Jesus that hurts!” He paused for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “I think it went straight through, though,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’d damned sure know it if he hit bone.”
Thomas nodded. If the round had struck bone, Delmar would have dropped to the ground immediately like a sack of potatoes and could not have put weight on the leg as he had. “Be still,” Thomas said as he pressed his fingers around the entry point. The leg was bleeding badly, but he felt no broken bones. He took off his do-rag and wiped the area, quickly exposing a small hole in Delmar’s left calf. “Nice entry point. Easy Hero, this will hurt.” He manipulated the leg so that he could see the exit wound. “Oh, now that’s just nasty.”
Jack pulled against his leash until he had enough slack to stand beside Delmar as the big man leaned against the cavern wall. He licked the Delmar’s face until a hand finally pushed him away. Rather than move back to Thomas’s side, the dog curled up next to Delmar.
“What?” Delmar exclaimed as another shot cracked into the cavern, the round spraying up dust and sand a good ten meters away. “What is it?” his voice cracked. “You can tell me, Thomas. It’s an artery, isn’t it? I can feel the blood. It’s okay, you can tell me.”
Thomas could not prevent the chuckle as it escaped from his throat. “You sound worse than you did that time you were nicked by shrapnel. You know…the time in the LCM on the
Chagras
river?”
“That was a bad wound,” Delmar protested, then groaned again. “I’m sweating,” he said. “Don’t let me go into shock.”
“If I could only be so lucky,” Thomas muttered. “And that so-called bad wound was just a scratch if I remember correctly…which I do.”
“It left a scar.”
Thomas chuckled. “Anyway, the exit wound is big, but it’s not bleeding badly. You’ve lost some muscle and a good square inch of hairy leg-skin…but that’s it.” Thomas scrambled to get his jacket off, then his thick shirt. “It was probably a 30.30 round. No way was it any larger.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Delmar asked, seeing Thomas remove the jacket and shirt. “Why are you taking off your clothes?”
Thomas ignored the question. He began to remove the flexible bandages from his ribs.
“Don’t do that,” Delmar plead. “You need those.”
“You just need one,” Thomas answered. “I’ll leave the others on.”
“Okay,” Delmar said. “If you say so.”
Thomas had the leg wrapped in less than a minute, using the do-rag as a dressing for the wound. “You are really lucky.”
Another shot rang out and this time the bullet glanced off of a wall, ricocheting into the ground a few feet from the two men. Jack stood up for a moment, but seeing that the two men were not about to move, he laid back down next to Delmar, resting his head on the big man’s thigh. Alastair yelled again, but the only words that they could hear amounted to an exclamation of how the men were just about out of time.
Delmar moaned. “I don’t feel lucky.”
“Stand up and let’s see if you can walk.”
“I can walk.” Delmar said the words as he stood up. He grimaced as he put his weight on the leg. “Hurts, but it will be fine. What were you trying to show me?”
Thomas pointed. “Look over there…about knee-high. On second thought, don’t just look. Check it out.” He paused. “NO flashlight.”
“No shit,” Delmar answered. At first didn’t see anything out of the ordinary as he hobbled the few steps to the area—but then he felt a cool wind. He followed the chilled air and quickly found the origin.
“See it?” Thomas asked
“Yes,” Delmar answered. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Maybe,” Thomas answered as he came to stand by his friend. “Question is—does it open up wide enough to travel through.” He frowned. “And we don’t have a clue where it goes, if anywhere.”
“We don’t have many choices. Either I cover you while you try to run, or we just make a mad dash together…” Delmar looked down at his injured leg, then cocked his head to one side, “which probably would not be a good idea—or we stay in here and fight the monster that will come. Again, not an idea that I want to ponder.”
“Well—it’s true that spelunkers explore caverns like these all the time up here in the Territory. They find what look like tiny holes on hillsides only to dig them out and find miles of tunnels and dozens of openings big enough for a truck to drive through.”
“At least it’s out of the bastard’s line of sight if we decide to try.”
Thomas nodded. “He won’t see a damned thing unless we turn the flashlights on…and even then he won’t see what we are doing.”
“Damn the flashlights,” Delmar said. “Don’t need
em
.”
“Okay,” Thomas said, nodding. “We see if we can make this opening bigger. If we can’t or if it goes nowhere, than we have no choice but to fight our way out of here before dark.” Thomas hated the idea of it, but they were running out of time, and Delmar had been right—there really weren’t any other options.
“K-bars,” Delmar said.
“Yep.” Thomas looked around and found a small stalagmite. He wrapped Jack’s leash around it. “You stay, boy. We are going to find a way out.”
If not, then I will let you go and give you a chance to make it on your own,
he thought.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Forsythe?” The shout was muffled by the wind and distance, but the men heard it. They were chipping away at the entrance and making good progress enlarging the hole. Delmar stopped for a moment, but said nothing.
“I know you are cursed,” Alastair shouted. “You will be just like me, soon.”
“I’ll never be like you,” Delmar shouted. He doubted it was true, but he had to say the words. “You and I will never be anything alike, DOG.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows at the euphemism. “Don’t answer him. It’s what he wants.”
“How long do you think he can hold back his beast, Thomas?” Alastair shouted.
Thomas ignored the taunt.
“You just might be worse off in there with him than out here on your own.”
Delmar started to shout again, but Thomas grasped his arm and shook his head. “Don’t.” He gazed into his friend’s dark eyes. “It’s okay, Delmar. Do not let the bastard get to you.”
Delmar grimaced, “What if…”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Thomas said angrily. “We are not going through this again. We stay together. We
STAY
together. We find a way, Delmar. Believe it—we
will
find a way to get help for you.”
Delmar started to speak but merely nodded and began chipping away once more.
They worked for nearly an hour on the small hole in the wall, suffering through Alastair’s taunts along with the occasional rifle shot. Finally, the hole was large enough for Delmar’s shoulders. Thomas wanted to be the first to look deeper inside, so Delmar held his poncho over Thomas’s body while he shined his flashlight deep into the tunnel. He got down on his knees and leaned deep into the makeshift opening, and what he saw gave him the first real hope that maybe they would survive yet another night—another night that they might deprive the beast of their flesh. He turned off the light and pulled himself free.
“It’s over knee-high and looks like it gets wider,” he said as he took the poncho from Delmar’s hands and began to roll it up into a ball. “I could see well over a hundred feet, and it looked like it only gets larger. I don’t know if we can be so lucky, but at the very least, I think it’s going to give us a second chance—even if it ends after a hundred feet. That tunnel is the only means of getting to us. If the werewolf comes down the tunnel after us...” He smiled and pointed to the 10-gauge that stood leaning against the cavern wall. “and if I hit him with that, at close range?” He smiled. “His head is coming off…and that does it for Alastair whatever-his-nuts.” He grabbed Delmar by the shoulders. “We’re
gonna
make it.”
Delmar nodded. “Well, it’s not as if we have much of a choice. Let’s do it.”
* * * * *
It was much more than an hour later when Deluth came walking from Alan’s make-shift jail cell, radio in hand and motioning for Kaley and Huth to open the hanger doors. Snow felt the cold wind in his face as he stood leaning against the cockpit of the helicopter, watching as a vehicle similar to their own van drove through. The vehicle coughed and sputtered as the driver struggled to keep the engine alive.
“You
gotta
be
shittin
me,” Kaley said, a disgusted look spreading across his scarred face.
