Shadows Strike(7)
Something warm unfurled in his chest as he gave her hand a squeeze. “Then I’d say my day just got a hell of a lot brighter.”
Chapter Three
“Can I bum a smoke?”
Nick Altomari looked over at his friend. “Where are yours?”
“I promised Cindy I’d stop smokin’ before the baby’s born.”
Releasing his hold on the M16 looped over his shoulder, Nick removed the pack he always carried from a pocket and held it out to Weston.
Wes drew out a cigarette, lit it up, and took a long, satisfied drag.
Smiling, Nick shook his head, pocketed the pack, and returned his attention to the forest his perch high in the southwest guard tower overlooked. A full moon cloaked by clouds cast dim blue light on the dense trees and thick tropical foliage. Hidden behind the jungle, the ocean lapped at a narrow shore and joined the other night sounds.
A tall, thick cement wall surrounded the small military base Nick guarded. Beyond it stood two chain-link fences, positioned several yards apart, that were woven with razor wire. The bare ground between them had been covered with thick sand none could cross safely without guidance. Any who tried would die when their foot inevitably found one of the many land mines buried within it. Beyond that, a wide swath of foliage had been cut down so no one could approach the “beach” without gaining notice and being challenged.
“Check it out.” Wes pulled a white envelope from his back pocket, opened it, and withdrew a photo.
Nick leaned over to study it.
Weston’s wife, Cindy, was seated on a tattered sofa, the waist of her pants nudged down to expose a huge, pale belly, her shirt pulled up to just beneath her breasts.
Nick grinned. “She looks like she swallowed a beach ball.” Of all the guys bunking at the army base, Nick was closest to Wes. Though Nick was a few years older, they had known each other and been friends since basic training. Wes was twenty-one, Cindy twenty. A bit young to start a family, Nick thought, but he said nothing. “How far along is she?”
“Eight months.”
Nick regarded her big belly and arched a brow. “Are you sure she isn’t carrying twins?”
Wes grinned. “We’re sure. The doctor warned us early on that the baby might be big like her daddy.”
Nick shook his head. “What the hell are you going to do with a little girl?”
“Chase off all her boyfriends when she’s old enough to date.”
Both men laughed.
Weston carefully tucked the picture away. “Last time I talked to her, Cindy kept cryin’ about bein’ fat and ugly.”
“Really? I think she looks cute.”
“Me, too.” He frowned. “Wait. Cute how? Cute like ‘I’d do her’ cute?”
Nick snorted. “Damn, you’re a jealous man.”
Wes sighed. “I know. I just can’t stand the idea of any other man even lookin’ at her. And with her bein’ thousands of miles away . . .” He frowned. “Sometimes I worry she might find someone else.”
“Get serious. Cindy loves you.” But Nick knew it wasn’t just jealousy that precipitated his friend’s pensive expression. “Only four months and a wake-up till you’re outta here.”
Weston nodded, staring out at the dark jungle. “It kills me that I won’t be there when my daughter’s born.”
Nick could understand that. He clapped Weston on the back. “Have your sister videotape it so you can have all the gory details.”
He grimaced. “I don’t know how many gory details I want.”
Amiable silence claimed them.
Nick glanced at his watch. Two more hours, then he could turn in. “I think I might have a pregnant woman fetish,” he mused. “Is that a thing? Is there a pregnant woman fetish?”
Wes laughed. “I don’t know. Why would you think that?”
“Some of the other guys have flashed pics of their pregnant wives or girlfriends and, unlike you, complained about how fat they were, saying they hoped the weight would fall off as soon as the baby was born.” He shrugged. “I always think the women look hot.”
Still smiling, Wes shook his head. “I’d say you were strange, but I don’t think Cindy has ever looked hotter than she does now. Maybe we’re both strange.”
A cry sounded in the distance.
Straightening, Nick scowled and peered in the direction of the ocean. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.” Wes squinted. “Was it a bird?”
“I don’t think so.”
Another cry.
Foliage far in the distance—barely discernible in the darkness—began to jerk and sway.
“What the hell?” Nick muttered.
Trees shook and bent. Foliage rustled and bounced.
“What is it?” Weston asked, face anxious.
“I don’t know. But it’s coming this way.” Nick touched his earpiece. “Hit the lights. We’ve got incoming.”
Stadium lights, so bright they hurt Nick’s eyes, flashed on, lighting up the “beach” and the trees on all sides of the base.
A wide swath of forest rippled with movement that grew closer and closer with every breath. Eerie growls or snarls or something deep and ugly swelled as whatever the hell it was approached.
Nick’s hands tightened on his weapon as images from every dinosaur and big-ass monster movie he had ever seen flashed through his head.
“What the fuck is it?” Weston hissed, his voice high with fear. “A fuckin’ T. rex?”
“I know, right?” Nick tried and failed to keep his voice light.
A buzzing whir sounded behind them. Nick risked glancing over his shoulder and saw remote-controlled fifty caliber automatic weapons rise atop the roof of the main structure.
“Attention,” a voice blared from the speakers on the wall. “You are trespassing on property of the United States of America.” The entire island—not just the base—fell under the army’s jurisdiction. “This military installation is off-limits to all civilians and unauthorized personnel. Deadly force has been authorized. Trespassers will be shot. Stop where you are and leave, or approach slowly with your hands in the air and identify yourself.”
“If you have hands,” Weston muttered.
Nick nodded, his heart pounding as the message repeated.
Unless they were plowing through the forest in large, exceedingly fast machines capable of knocking down trees as they went, whatever approached wasn’t human.
The . . . thing or things . . . were almost to the tree line when Nick heard a male voice speak low in his earpiece.
“Light ’em up, boys.”
Fire shot from the muzzles of the rooftop weapons as big-ass bullets tore through the jungle beyond the makeshift beach.
That ought to do it, Nick thought with some relief.
Foliage began to topple beneath the barrage, so powerful were the mini-missiles.
“Yeah!” Weston cheered. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout!”
Nick didn’t celebrate.
The growls and tree jostling didn’t cease. They increased.
Glass shattered above Nick’s head.
Wincing, he ducked back as the stadium lights above went dark and glass fell past his post in shards. More glass shattered down the way as all the lights were targeted. The stadium lights, the floodlights on the walls, those above the front gates, and every other light that was visible from the jungle burst into sharp confetti.
The base plunged into darkness.
Explosions lit up the night as something unseen breached the first chain-link fence and attempted to cross the “beach.”
Nick and Wes both lunged for the drawer that contained the night-vision monoculars.
Nick yanked it open. “Here.” Glancing up, he held out a monocular to his friend.
Something large and dark struck Wes, driving him backward.
Dropping the monocular, Nick turned and raised his weapon. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, faint moonlight allowed him to find Wes down on the floor, his head lying two feet from his body.
“Fuck!” Nick looked around wildly, turning this way and that, searching for whatever had attacked. It was so damned dark.
Screams erupted in the next tower. Then the next. Down on the ground.
Nick backed toward the drawer, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Nothing moved.
Taking a huge chance, he released his weapon with one hand long enough to grab the other monocular from the drawer.
His hand shook as he attached it to his scope. Even over the screams, the gunfire, and those growls, his breath sounded loud in his ears.
Securing his hold on his weapon, he raised the scope to his eye and peered through it.
Ice sliced through his veins.
“Shit!” Nick squeezed the trigger as he stumbled backward.
Ethan downed the glass of tea Heather had offered him, wishing he had thought to bring a couple bags of blood with him. As he glanced around the room, taking in the half dozen or so framed photos, unease trickled through him. “Heather, who is the man in the photographs? The one in the uniform?”
She glanced at the pictures hanging on one wall. “My father.”
“He’s in the military?”
“Yes. He’s in the army.”
And there were a hell of a lot of shiny things on his uniform. “He’s an officer?”
She nodded “A general.”
Oh shit. This was bad. This was so bad. The Immortal Guardians had just fought several huge battles with mercenaries who had discovered the existence of vampires and immortals. The bastards had wanted to use the virus that infected both parties to create an army of supersoldiers they could hire out to the highest bidder. The military could not be allowed to learn the truth or they would likely follow a similar path.