Monster Hunter - Vendetta Part 9

Panicked, I redialed. The phone just kept ringing, but n.o.body picked up.

I found myself pacing back and forth. This couldn't be happening. They had nothing to do with this. This wasn't their fight. They didn't even know what I really did for a living. They were hundreds of miles away. The feeling of helplessness. .h.i.t like a sledgehammer. A painful minute pa.s.sed, and I honestly didn't know what to do. I wanted to puke.

"Agent Myers," Franks said, holding out his radio.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him and slammed down the transmit b.u.t.ton. "Myers, you son of a b.i.t.c.h, you better go get them!"

"Calm down, Pitt. My men are on it. If they escape before we arrive, we'll cordon off the area. My chopper is warming up now. I will personally oversee the search."

"d.a.m.n right you will. This is your fault!" I raged.

"Just stay calm and stay stay at the compound," Myers ordered. at the compound," Myers ordered.

I hurled the radio back to Franks. He effortlessly s.n.a.t.c.hed it out of the air before it hit him in the face. I started running for the main building.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going after them," I shouted back.

"It'll take hours to get there," the giant stated.

"s.h.i.+t!" He was right, of course, but that didn't change the fact that I had to do something. Who did MHI have in the area? Who did MHI have in the area? Julie would know. I pulled out my phone and hit speed dial J. I walked in a circle as it rang repeatedly. Julie would know. I pulled out my phone and hit speed dial J. I walked in a circle as it rang repeatedly.

"Hi, you've reached Julie Shackleford, business coordinator for MHI. Please leave a detailed message at the beep."

I swore. Of course she wasn't answering her phone; she was hunting trolls. At the tone, I left what I was sure was an incoherent and panicked message about cultists kidnapping my folks.

My phone chirped. I switched to the incoming call. "h.e.l.lo?" I said quickly.

"Son?" The gravely voice was winded.

"DAD!" I shouted. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," heavy breathing, "some a.s.sholes kicked the door in, started tying us up. Talking all kinds of craziness. f.u.c.king amateurs."

It was like I could breathe again. "Is Mom okay?"

"Sure, she's fine."

Oh, thank you G.o.d."What about the cultists?"

"Cultists? These punks? Well, I got three of them. The last one's crawling down the driveway, but he isn't going very fast with all those holes in him, so I'll mop him up in a second. What the h.e.l.l's going on?"

I let out a huge sigh of relief. He had survived everything a.s.sorted communists and terrorists had thrown at him in twenty-five years of warfare, both official and unofficial. He wasn't the type to scare easily.

"Dad, listen carefully. Hang tight, cops are on the way. You've got more guns, right?" I asked. He grunted, almost like that was insulting. "Okay, good. Grab some big stuff, just in case."

"How big?"

"Big as you've got." And I knew that for Dad, that meant some serious firepower. The militant apple didn't fall far from the militant tree.

Franks interrupted. "Cult survivors?" I held up one finger. "We need him." I nodded.

"Dad, don't shoot that last guy anymore. The cops want to question him."

"Well, they best hurry up then. I'll go toss him a towel and tell him to put some direct pressure on it and quit his crying. Now, you listen to me, boy. They were talking about you, that this is all about you. What kind of bulls.h.i.+t are you mixed up in? Is this some sort of mafia accountant thing?"

Of course he still thought I was a CPA. "I'll explain everything later, I promise. I need you to get to Alabama as fast as you can. The Feds will escort you here." I glared at Franks as I said that, but he nodded in consent. At some point he had summoned the Goon Squad, because Archer, Herzog, and Torres had come running, carrying all their equipment. "Did they say anything else?"

Dad gasped. "d.a.m.n, forgot. Yes. Your brother, they said that they were sending 'violence and evil' or something like that after him."

"Force and Violence?"

"Yeah. But then I went for the kitchen gun." Growing up, it had been Pitt family custom to stash at least one gun in every room of the house, so having a kitchen gun had finally paid off, "I shot the son of a b.i.t.c.h that said it in the face, so I was a touch distracted. We've got to get to David."

"He's near me. I'm on it, Dad. I'll see you in Alabama. Just hang tight." I hung up and scrolled through until I found my brother's number. My hands were trembling so bad that it was hard to work the little trackball on my phone.

"Yo?" Somebody unfamiliar picked up and my heart lurched. Was I too late? Was I too late?

"I need to talk to Mosh right now!" I shouted.

"Dude, he's going on stage in a minute. Call back later."

"It's a family emergency," I said forcefully.

"Well, I'm his manager. I'll pa.s.s it on when the show's over." The voice was very laid back, bordering on obnoxious mellowness.

"Mosh is in danger. You need to get him out of there, now!"

"Look, man, lay off the dope. It makes you paranoid. Call back in a couple hours." He hung up.

Bellowing something profane and incoherent, I started for the main building. I needed my gear.

"Where are you going?" Torres asked.

"They're coming for my brother. He's in Montgomery tonight. I have to get to him. We can be there in half an hour."

"Our strike team is camped at Maxwell," Archer said quickly, referring to the Air Force base in Montgomery. "I'll raise them."

"Myers said you weren't supposed to leave the compound," Herzog snapped.

"Our team is already there. They can handle it. Driving up there will just put you in danger. This is probably just what the Condition wants you to do," Torres suggested softly. "This could be a trap."

"I'm going," I spun around. "And I'll kneecap the first one of you who tries to stop me." I'm a physically intimidating specimen when I'm enraged. The three junior agents stepped back automatically. Franks didn't flinch. None of them said another word as I stared them down. "You gonna help me or not?"

Franks mulled it over, probably weighing the pros and cons of endangering his charge versus being able to go kill something. The decision didn't take long. "I'll drive."

Chapter 6.

The G-Ride speedometer pegged at a hundred and forty miles an hour but we were going much faster as we entered Montgomery and headed west on the 85. The black-armored Suburban had been delivered to Franks sometime in the last few days by some of his minions and I was glad we had it. Although MHI had a lot of vehicles, none of them apparently had a friggin' quarter-million-horsepower engine forged in the fires of Mordor like this thing apparently did. It normally took me forty-five minutes to hit the outskirts of town from Cazador, but Franks had done it in less than twenty, and I wasn't exactly averse to speeding. The demonic roar of the engine was almost as loud as the banshee siren that warned everyone else to get out of the way or be flattened beneath our armored steel b.u.mpers. Our tax dollars had equipped Agent Franks with the SUV from h.e.l.l.

Franks was emotionless in the reflected flashes of blue and red, still wearing his cheap suit. A pine-tree-shaped air freshener bounced around under the rearview mirror. I was in the pa.s.senger seat, hunched forward by the armor and pouches on my back. Abomination was muzzle down, balanced between my knees. It had been almost impossible to get dressed while we had slalomed around the corners of rural Keene County, but I had managed. The Goon Squad was in the next row of seats, also armed to the teeth, each one intense and ready to fight.

I had run into MHI headquarters long enough to grab my go-bag and give Dorcas a brief rundown. She had been trying to raise the others as we had left. I shoved my MHI-issued earpieces in, partially to protect my hearing from the siren, but also to check to see if any of my people were in range. I was alone. The radio mounted on the SUV's dash was tuned to the Monster Control Bureau's encrypted channel, so I knew that their strike force had mobilized and moved to the Buzzard Island Amphitheater, now only a few miles ahead of us.

"Alpha Team is in position outside the concert and holding," said someone over the radio.

"Any suspicious activity?" Agent Myers asked over the airwaves.

There was a long pause of open air. "Uh, sir, most most of the people here are suspicious looking." Apparently they had never been to a Cabbage Point Killing Machine show before. Their tours were legendary. You could drop all sorts of weird supernatural creatures into one of their average gigs and n.o.body would notice. of the people here are suspicious looking." Apparently they had never been to a Cabbage Point Killing Machine show before. Their tours were legendary. You could drop all sorts of weird supernatural creatures into one of their average gigs and n.o.body would notice.

My phone rang and I hurriedly pulled it from the small pouch on the front of my armor. "Yeah?"

"Z?" It was Albert Lee. "Dorcas just got a hold of me."

"Where are you?"

"We're a couple miles north of Cazador."

"Who you got?"

"Me and Grant. Dorcas raised Harbinger. They turned back too."Excellent. Lee was a good man, and Grant, say what you would about him, was a known quant.i.ty, more than I could say about my current carpool. "Listen, I've got to tell you something. Dorcas said it was Force and Violence. I've been reading up on them. Be really careful." Lee was a good man, and Grant, say what you would about him, was a known quant.i.ty, more than I could say about my current carpool. "Listen, I've got to tell you something. Dorcas said it was Force and Violence. I've been reading up on them. Be really careful."

Franks must have somehow, impossibly, heard that. "Put him on speaker."

I complied so the Feds could hear. "First, what can they do? Second, how do we waste them?"

"n.o.body really knows what they are. The descriptions sound kind of like an ogre and an ogress, but they're too fast, too smart, and apparently indestructible. Esmeralda thought they were Greek, and they've been seen in that part of the world a lot, for at least three thousand years, but from the descriptions, I think they're oni oni."

"Three thousand years?" Herzog said incredulously. "Bull."

Franks held up one hand to silence her.

"What's an oni?" I asked.

"Far Eastern legends talk about them a lot. They're evil spirits that have gained a physical body, usually really big and strong. They suck the life out of other things in order to power their own bodies indefinitely. That's probably what Skippy meant by getting paid in souls. I don't see why some of them couldn't wander over to Europe and end up in that area's folklore."

Some Hunters just seemed to geek out at monster factoids. "That's great. Now how do we kill them?"

"Beats me," he answered. "MHI has never killed an oni that I can find record of. Esmeralda said that bullets bounced off of them."

"Great..." I muttered. "We'll improvise."

"Electricity," Archer chimed in. "Enough current will stun an oni. That's what the field manual says."

"There's more. When MHI went up against them last time, they had a hard time tracking them, which is weird since witnesses say they're huge. But they would suddenly appear, kill something, then poof poof, they were just gone. So I'm guessing they're either able to fly or teleport. The Fed file said the necromancer can create shadow portals, so maybe they can too. They might even shape-s.h.i.+ft, so who knows..."

"Well, that narrows it down. Thanks, Al. See you there. Go to the radio band when you reach Motown." I dropped the phone back in its pouch. This wasn't shaping up to be a fun night.

Updates continued to come in from the strike force as they surrounded the concert. They were all in position. "Stay low profile and hold your position for now," Myers ordered his teams. "Wait for the Condition to make their move first. Our primary concern is capturing a Condition operative. Civilian casualties are secondary. Myers out."

"What?" I shouted and slammed my fist into the glove box. Mosh was a sitting duck up there on stage. "Tell them to go in there and grab my brother now!"

Franks shook his head. "That's not the mission."

"Bulls.h.i.+t it's not. You're using him as bait, like you used me. He's not part of this." I reached over for the radio, but suddenly Franks' ham fist clamped around my left hand, immobilizing it as easily as if I were a child.

"He is now," Franks said, blank eyes never leaving the road as he steered with one hand between freeway traffic at absurd speeds.

"That's my brother out there. Don't you have any family, Franks?"

He scowled. "Yeah. Big family."

"Would you just leave them to die?"

"Not my problem..."

Something broke. I'd had enough. Mosh wasn't going to die if I could help it. Fury bubbled up from the pit of my stomach, as my STI.45 cleared its Kydex drop leg holster with a snap. I screwed the fat muzzle into Frank's ear, hard, and snapped, "Order them to get Mosh, right now."

It only took the Goon Squad a second to react. There was a click of a manual safety as Herzog put her HK.45 against the base of my skull. "Drop the gun, Pitt! Drop it!" she screamed. Archer was a split second slower but he slammed his Sig 229 into my head as well.

"Shut up!" I shouted. I wasn't going to let my brother get killed for their stupid mission. My finger was on the trigger and blasting Franks at this speed would surely end us all. "Call Myers!" Spit flew from my lips. "Now!"

Franks didn't take his eyes off the road, but he did unconsciously squeeze my left hand harder. Bones creaked and I grimaced. "Negative," he said.

"Owen, put the gun down," Torres urged softly. "Use your brain, man. We warned you about the Condition. They'll just keep on attacking everyone you've ever loved until they get you. We have to capture some of them or this will go on forever. Please, put the gun down."

Franks was utterly calm, even with a silver.45 slug aimed down his ear ca.n.a.l. "Do it."

My brother was going to be killed and there wasn't a thing I could do about it from here...d.a.m.n it. I couldn't threaten Franks. Shooting him wouldn't accomplish a thing. Deflated, I thumbed the safety back on and slowly lowered my gun. Franks let go of my aching hand and went back to 10 and 2 on the wheel. Archer and Herzog kept their guns trained on me. I couldn't threaten Franks. Shooting him wouldn't accomplish a thing. Deflated, I thumbed the safety back on and slowly lowered my gun. Franks let go of my aching hand and went back to 10 and 2 on the wheel. Archer and Herzog kept their guns trained on me.

"Hand your piece back, slowly!" she shouted, voice shrill in my ear. "Do it or I'll blow your brains out! You're under arrest."

"Screw you," I said. She pushed even harder with the muzzle. I knew that I'd gone way too far this time. "All right." Slowly, I pa.s.sed the custom long-slide, double-stack pistol, turning it back b.u.t.t first. She thumped me again, and I handed Abomination over my head, the stubby and bulky shotgun and grenade launcher combo difficult to pa.s.s between the seats. Another thump and I sent back my secondary STI off my left hip, this one a compact, bobbed and chopped.45.

"Everything." She whacked me again for good measure.

I slowly pa.s.sed back the two Spyderco knives I kept on each hip pocket, then dragged out the 21" Chitilangi heavy kukri that replaced my lost Ganga Ram. MHI was one of Himalayan Imports' best customers. "Careful, that one's sharp," I said as I pa.s.sed it back. Hopefully one of them would cut their fingers off by accident. Another thump. Another thump. I was going to be covered in lumps from that hag. "d.a.m.n it," I muttered as I reached down to my ankle and pulled out the snub-nosed.357 Airweight Smith & Wesson that I kept stashed for worst-case scenarios. Now the three of them had a pile of weapons to contend with. I was going to be covered in lumps from that hag. "d.a.m.n it," I muttered as I reached down to my ankle and pulled out the snub-nosed.357 Airweight Smith & Wesson that I kept stashed for worst-case scenarios. Now the three of them had a pile of weapons to contend with.

"How many guns do you have?" Torres asked in exasperation.

"It's a Second Amendment thing. You wouldn't understand."