Blood Lust: A Supernatural Horror (59 page)

Faber
knew about Walmsley.
His office received any strange fever or wound reports from the hospital staff.
That was how he
had found out about McNeil
. He
decided to pull rank.
“Look. This is a matter of national security.
I need…
”

McNeil waved his hand in dismissal without looking
at Faber
. “I know
all
about your monster
, Mr.
Faber
. I’ve seen it
. I’ve
fought it. Hardin and Simmons went back down after it
after they brought me and Walmsley back up
. They may be dead. I just don’t know.”

Faber
cursed. It was clear now why Simmons had refused to give his location when he called in.
“Clad Simmons
is down there with Hardin
?”

McNeil turned back to face him. “Simmons saved my life
.
”

“Sounds like Simmons,” Faber replied. His concern was why Simmons was
t
here
helping Hardin
.
“H
ow did you find him?”

McNeil chuckled. “He found us. We were in a tight spot fighting the creature. He came out of nowhere and saved
our ass.
”

“How did the fire start?”

McNeil shook his head. “I’m not sure – short circuit maybe, or maybe Hardin started it to kill the creature. He’s determined enough.”

“We want to capture it.”

McNeil stared hard at Faber. “So Hardin said. I don’t think your boy Simmons agrees with you.”

So Simmons had gone rogue
.
“If we can get to them we might be able to render assistance.”

McNeil glanced at the men around the Hummer
, and
then back at Faber.
“You’re welcome to sit and wait with us. There’s nothing we can do right now.”

“We can get some firefighting equipment down there, put out the fire.
I can’t just wait
here
.”

“Look, Mr. Faber. That tunnel is over
sixty
years old.
The rock’s rotten and
the tunnel
was never sealed in concrete.
The only thing keeping the walls and roof from collapsing is a thin layer of wooden boards supported by beams.
What do you think is burning?
That tunnel is a death trap. No sane man would go down there.” He looked back down the airshaft. “
No sane man would have gone down there in the first place.”

For the first time in many years, Faber was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do. His orders were clear, but he could not order his men down into that hellhole to die.
He felt his mantle of authority slipping away. Washington would take
no
excuses. They would replace him after
a decade on the job.
Trouble was he liked his job.
He looked back at his men. He could read in their eyes
that they expected him to send them down and they would go if he ordered it
, but they didn’t like the idea
.

He didn’t either
. As much as he liked Simmons, maybe he could
use Simmons
as a scapegoat
to
take some of the heat away from him.
After all, Simmons had betrayed his trust and shirked his duty by aiding Hardin.

“Sir, look!”

Faber looked up at one of McNeil’s men pointing to a column of smoke rising about a
couple of miles
away
. Faber knew it was very near the old
monastery
, scene of so much
recent
creature activity. “
That’s near the old monastery.
What is it
, another tunnel
?”

McNeil stared at the smoke a moment before answering.
“There’s no tunnel that way. Hardin did say he had found the old cavern
system
and an underground river. The old river
must run
be
neath the monastery parallel to the dry riverbed
.
”

Faber saw a slim hope.
“Any chance of getting to it
?” he asked.

“
The entire
structure
collapsed on top of it.
Smok
e might get through, but people … I don’t know. We can check it out. We aren’t doing much good here with this death watch.”

Faber waved his men back into the Hummer
and turned to follow.

“Wait!” McNeil yelled. “I’ll come with you. The others need to stay here just in case.”

Faber
nodded
. “Come on, then.”

On the way, Faber went over
his notes about the monastery. Most of it was historical drivel someone
had thought he might need.
Originally, a
renegade
Jesuit order of St. Ignatius of Loyola
eager to break away from Spanish authority
had built
the
monastery on the banks of the
Cane River
in 1690
. They were
cloistered
and
self sufficient, growing vegetables, raising cattle and even wheat, grinding it in their own
water
-
powered
mill, which also served the early surrounding community.

In 1740, as the community grew larger, the Catholic Church, eager
to increase its influence in a mostly Protestant America
, declared the Jesuits
heretic
and killed them
all and desecrated many of the tombs and mausoleums they found beneath t
he monastery in the catacombs.
When
they constructed a new
Catholic
church
on the site
in the 1940’s, it lasted only a few decades before
it was
abandoned.
It was as if the
blood of the murdered Jesuits
site had cursed
it.
Certainly,
he mused,
current events did nothing to remove that centuries old stain
.

As they neared the
ruins of the monastery
, it was evident that the smoke was coming from there, near the
dry
river where the
old mill had collapsed. Faber was dismayed when he surveyed the area
, a
large
crater filled with
the
tum
bled, blackened masonry
of one
section of
collapsed compound wall
.
Smoke rose from several
places
in the crater.
He grew excited when he spotted a rat scurrying across the crater.

“Look! A rat
.
”

“A rat is a lot smaller than a man,” McNeil said, bringing him down to earth.
“We could dig for days and not break through.”

“I don’t have days but I do have something that might do the trick much quicker – Semtex.”

McNeil looked incredulous. His cheeks reddened in anger. “You’re going to blast a hole? I thought the idea was to rescue them, not blow them up.”

Faber did
n’t
tell him rescuing Hardin and Simmons was secondary to getting his men underground.
“
It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
He motioned for his men to bring up the Semtex.

“Wait!” McNeil yelled. “Let me try the
walkie-talkie
first
. It might work.”
He pressed the mic key. “Hardin, this is McNeil. Do you read me? Over.” Loud static came from the tiny speaker. He tried again. “Hardin
,
this is McNeil. Do you read me
?
”

Another burst of static burst from the
walkie-talkie
; then, “McNeil? Where the hell are you?”

3
3

By the time the creature showed itself
,
the
s
moke in the cavern was getting denser.
I
had
cough
ed until my
throat was raw from the dry
, choking
air.
The
Chupacabra
made good use of the open cavern, flying in circles near the uneven roof
, dodging in and out of the light
.
I fired one time, dislodging a small stalactite
but missing the creature
.
It seemed reluctant to attack
us head on
. Maybe it knew it could outlast us when the cavern filled with smoke.
On the other hand,
maybe it had
developed
a healthy respect for the elephant gun.

Simmons
moaned from his seated position
by the pool
. “Don’t
stand here trying to protect me
.
Go k
ill the damned thing. I’ll protect myself
with this
.”
He hefted
Walmsley’s large hunting kn
i
fe
.

He didn’t look able to sit up
much less
wield a knife
.
His eyes were half closed.

“You watch my back, partner,” I said. He threw me a grin.

Ella
was almost in tears, but I had to hand it to her, she did
n’t
whimper. She squatted beside
Simmons
, one hand on his shoulder and
the other, slightly shaking, held the .357.
The creature flew at
us
from the cover of a large boulder, almost catching me by surprise. I aimed and fired, striking the creature in the
left shoulder, shredding some wing. It screamed in pain and fell to the ground thrashing around. I tried for a second shot,
a kill shot,
but the creature regained its feet and scurried off
like a three-legged dog to the cover of some boulders.

The sound of the
walkie-talkie
almost made me fire the elephant gun in a knee jerk reaction. I had forgotten
all about
it. The voice was weak and filled with static.

“Hardin, this is McNeil
… read me?”

I grabbed the
walkie-talkie
and keyed the mic. “McNeil
?
Where the hell are you?”
I was relieved that he was still alive.

“We’re at the
monastery.
Smoke
…
venting from the old mill. We’re
…
blast a hole to the river. We’re firing in
five
minutes. Be ready.”

The static was a problem.
I hoped I was piecing together the entire conversation.
“Who’s we?”

“Faber and
some commando looking guys
.”

I glanced at
Simmons
, who just shook his head.
I spoke rapidly, hoping McNeil would hear it all before the static took it.

“McNeil, the creature
’
s here. We drove it out of the tunnel
with the fire. If you blast, it might escape.”

“
…
worry. You just stay away from the blast
…
five
minutes.”

I knew the creature could understand what was happening. I grabbed
Simmons
and urged him closer to the
pool
while I kept an eye on our
gray friend. If we could stay between it and the
opening
they were proposing to make, we could keep it trapped.

The creature was
n
o
t
willing
to cooperate.
S
ens
ing
a way out
, i
t
came at us in a frenzy of beating wings and flashing talons, its earlier wound almost healed.
I dropped
Simmons
and brought the gun up to bear but could not move fast enough to aim properly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed
Ella
raise the .357 and fire twice,
miraculously
scoring a hit with one shot.
The recoil sent her sprawling on her ass.
The creature turned toward h
er
, allowing me a shot. I fired and
hit a leg. It screamed and flew into the shadows
trailing a broken leg
.
I cursed in frustration. The
Chupacabra
was healing faster than we could inflict damage.
Simmons
was
fumbling with something
he had removed from his belt
but couldn’t take my eyes off the creature to see what.
Groaning, he rose to his feet. In his hand, he held a six-foot cattle prod
I don’t know where he got it unless
it was collapsible
.
Bright b
lue sparks danced
along the edge
.
I suspected it was no mere cattle prod.