CHAPTER ONE GREYEAGLE #2
He paused for a minute, then grabbed Mika’s cup and took a swig. The chocolate creamer was very tasty, and Greyeagle nodded appreciatively before setting the cup back in the holder.
“Told you it was good,” Mika said without opening his eyes.
“Asshole,” Greyeagle replied, then picked up his own cup. “Yeah, it’s good. I still prefer it black.”
“You’re just too stubborn to admit you can have things that taste good once in a while,” Mika said, opening one eye. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to take that stick out of your ass once in a while. Greyeagle.”
“Fine,” Greyeagle said, swapping cups.
“Dick,” Mika said, grinning. “It’s alright. I’ve got some creamer in that little cooler. So, the joke’s on you.”
“Shut up and go to sleep,” Greyeagle said, chuckling. “Let me enjoy your coffee in peace.”
Mika flashed Greyeagle a wry smile, then closed his eyes.
“Wake me when we get there,” Mika said.
“Trust me,” Greyeagle replied, “you’ll know it when we leave the pavement.”
Just over an hour later, Greyeagle slowed down and turned off the highway where a faded, old wooden marker said, “Eagle Talon Campground,” and had an arrow pointing down what only had a passing resemblance to a road.
Greyeagle stopped long enough to shift into four-wheel low and waited for the transmission to lock it in before moving again. As soon as he stopped, Mika was awake and looking around.
“We’re not quite there yet,” Greyeagle said. “We’re leaving the highway.”
“Did we beat the others?” asked Mika.
“Looks like,” Greyeagle replied. “The mud in the road looks like only one vehicle has been through recently. And from the tracks, I’d guess they haven’t come back out yet. David must be waiting for us at the campground.”
“I thought he was supposed to meet us here?” asked Mika.
“He must’ve gotten busy,” Greyeagle replied. “Check your cell. Do you have service?”
“Not so much as a single fucking bar,” Mika replied.
“I told you we needed to put signal boosters in the trucks,” Greyeagle replied.
“I’ll take care of that next time I’m in town,” Mika said.
“Good,” Greyeagle said. “Now, we can’t call David, and we don’t have a radio that’ll reach their frequencies.”
“So, we can’t tell him we’re here,” Mika said. “How far is it to the campground?”
“Another four miles down this swamp they call a road,” Greyeagle replied. “We’re not going to be able to move very fast.”
“Then let’s get moving,” Mika answered. “The sooner we get moving, the sooner we get there.”
Greyeagle nodded and headed down the road.
The high suspension and powerful engine made it much easier to get through the thick mud.
A few times, they had to ford creeks that came up to the tops of the tires, but the big truck just kept chugging along.
Thirty minutes later, they rolled up to the sign that read, “Welcome to Eagle Talon Campground. Take only pictures, leave only footprints.”
“We’re here,” Greyeagle said, reaching over the seat to tap Kodiak on the leg.
The sun was starting to crest the eastern horizon, turning the sky into shades of orange and purple.
It was still dark enough that they needed the headlights, but it wouldn’t be long before the sun was up enough to see by.
That would make it much easier to track, especially in this thick underbrush.
As they passed several primitive campsites, they began seeing the red taillights of another vehicle. The closer they got, the more they all felt uneasy.
“Something ain’t right,” Mika said. “I don’t like this.”
“Me either,” Greyeagle said. “I smell blood.”
Kodiak removed his headphones, turned them off, and placed them in the seat beside him. He was now on full alert, looking around the campground. Greyeagle pulled up next to David’s truck and stopped.
“Let’s have a look around,” Greyeagle said. “Watch your backs. Kodiak, I want you covering us while we check the ground for tracks.”
“On it,” Kodiak said, stepping out of the truck and opening his bag.
He pulled out a Sigwo Arms SIC458 Mk9 Dire Wolf chambered in .
458 SOCOM and loaded a magazine. He chambered a round and then slipped the single-point sling over his head, adjusting it before he buckled on his battle belt.
The belt held six additional magazines, a Dark Angel DARK trauma kit, two extra tourniquets, and a pair of Winkler Knives Sayoc Tomahawks in leather sheaths.
Once he had it in place, he activated the rifle’s tactical light, then turned and began sweeping the area.
Mika slipped out of the passenger side door and brought his rifle up.
Mika was old school. He didn’t carry a modern AR platform.
He carried a Marlin 1895 chambered in .45-70.
His sidearm was a custom Colt 1911 rechambered to fire the .
460 Roland, with four extra magazines. He also carried a large hunting knife in his boot, and two custom-made tomahawks in a sheath on his back.
All of which were forged by the Mohawk Twins.
Greyeagle shut the engine off and climbed out.
His pistol and knives were already in place.
While Kodiak covered the area, Greyeagle retrieved a rifle identical to his from the bag and slapped in a full magazine.
Then he chambered a round and slipped the sling over his head.
He quickly grabbed a pair of the Sayoc tomahawks and clipped them to his belt.
Lastly, he shouldered a bag that held another ten magazines for the rifle.
“Ready?” asked Greyeagle.
“As I’ll ever be,” Mika replied.
“Ready, Sar-Major,” Kodiak said, nodding.
Greyeagle called on the spirit of the Dire Wolf, allowing himself to shift just slightly to enhance his senses. The smell of blood, both old and fresh, was nearly overpowering. There was another scent there too. He knew it as well as he knew his own.
“Dogmen,” Greyeagle said. “By the number of scents, it’s a pack. At least eight. Maybe ten.”
“So much for a simple bear hunt,” muttered Mika. “Want me to call the others?”
“How?” asked Greyeagle. “Smoke signals?”
“Well, fuck,” replied Mika. “We need satellite phones, too.”
“Add it to the list,” Greyeagle said, still looking around.
Greyeagle studied the ground and found several large prints that had converged on David’s truck. The telltale elongated heel and wolf-like toe pads confirmed what he’d smelled.
“We’ve got a lot of tracks here,” Greyeagle said.
“Over here, too,” Mika replied.
Greyeagle moved toward the front of David’s truck and found a fresh bloody spot on the ground. That’s where he found the largest set of prints, by far. This creature was massive.
“This one’s nearly as big as I am when I shift,” Greyeagle said, frowning. “Maybe even bigger.”
“Big bastard,” Mika replied. “That one’s all yours.”
“I’ve got fresh blood, too,” Greyeagle said. “I think it’s David’s.”
Greyeagle crouched and examined the blood and the large track. That’s when a single scent emerged from the cacophony of smells from the pack. At first, it only confused him, then he noticed something familiar about it.
“No,” Greyeagle said softly. “That’s impossible.”
“What’s impossible?” asked Mika.
“Nothing,” Greyeagle replied. “I don’t think we’re going to find David.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, brother,” Mika said, pointing.
About thirty yards away, they saw David. He was tied to a large tree, covered in blood. His shirt had been torn off, and his left shoulder was torn open enough to expose bone, with dried blood and ragged flesh already drawing flies.
“David!” snapped Greyeagle, racing to him.
“Is he dead?” asked Mika.
Greyeagle quickly checked his pulse.
“He’s alive,” Greyeagle said. “Barely. We’ve got to get him to a hospital.”
“Let’s move!” Mika said. “Put him in the truck!”