The other guards were almost upon them now. Crowley growled again. Levi glanced back at traffic, wondering if these men would risk a confrontation in front of so many witnesses. How would it play to the public if a group of private security personnel were seen harassing a seemingly-Amish man? He studied the auras of those approaching, intent on divining their possible demeanor and intentions, but before he could, there was a commotion at the tree line. A forklift trundled out of the woods, shaking and rumbling as its tires dug into the uneven soil. Suspended on the forks was a twisted steel cage. Its frame had buckled and something had bent several of the bars. The door dangled from one hinge. As he watched, the forklift driver loaded the wreckage onto a flatbed truck.

  With the cage's appearance, the nervous energy of the guards seemed to increase. One of them barked at two others to get the traffic moving and clear the area. Another approached Levi and his aggressor.

  "What seems to be the trouble?" a second guard asked.

  "This man is refusing to leave the area." The first guard gagged as he spoke. He wiped mucous from his cheeks and scowled.

  The second guard nodded to Levi. "Your name, sir?"

  "You don't need it," Levi said. "And I will not give it."

  "Sir, when I ask you a question, you will answer me."

  "I don't answer to you."

  Before the men could respond, Levi flicked Dee's reigns and guided the buggy back out into traffic, waving a brisk thanks to the Ford Explorer who signaled him permission to merge. Crowley relaxed again. Sighing, the dog turned in a circle and then lay down on the bench seat. As they clopped down the road, Levi glanced into the buggy's rearview mirror. The second guard had turned his attention elsewhere, but the one who Dee had sneezed on watched them leave, his expression incredulous and angry.

  Levi scratched Crowley behind the ears with one hand and guided Dee with the other.

  "Okay then," he said. "I suppose we'll just have to do this the hard way."

  * * *

  When they arrived back at home, Levi unhooked Dee and led her to the stable, where he spent a few extra minutes being extra attentive. He gave her a long brushing, and some fresh apples and carrots to go along with her regular feed. The horse snorted gratefully, tossing her head in delight. She crunched them slowly, with a thoughtful expression.

  "Good girl," Levi said, kissing her muzzle. "That was well done."

  He was overcome with a sudden surge of affection for the horse. Dee was descended from a long line, and her family had aided his for generations. He'd had her since she was a foal, and along with Crowley, she was probably his most loyal companion. It had never occurred to him before now just what would happen to Dee or Crowley were something bad to befall him. Who would care for them? Sterling? It was something he should make arrangements for. Others had life insurance to provide for their loved ones. He should do the same for his.

  When it was completely dark, he once again gathered his belongings and his walking stick. Then, he whistled for Crowley, who was seemingly preoccupied with inhaling all of the food in his bowl with one giant gulp.

  "Come on, boy. Let's go for a walk."

  Crowley's ears perked up at this news. Tail wagging, he trotted over to Levi and panted happily. Levi quickly began to recite a prayer against all mishaps.

  "I, Levi Stoltzfus, son of Amos Stoltzfus, will go on a journey tonight. I will walk upon God's way, and walk where God himself did walk, and our---"

  A whippoorwill cried out from somewhere behind the barn, startling both Levi and the dog. It called again, its song echoing loudly in the darkness. Composing himself, Levi tried to remember where he'd left off. He faltered a few times before continuing.

  "I am thine own, that no dog may bite me---"

  Crowley whined.

  "Quiet," Levi whispered. "This is for your protection, too, you know. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. No wolf may bite me, and no murderer may secretly approach me. Save me, oh my God, from sudden death. I am in God's hands and will thus bind myself by our Lord Jesus' five wounds, that any gun or other weapon may not do me any more harm than the virginity of our Holy Virgin Mary was injured by the favor of her beloved Jesus."

  After this, he recited the Lord's Prayer and the articles of faith. Usually, this simple benediction gave him a sense of calm, assuredness, and strength---what Sterling's kids would have called getting "psyched" for the task ahead. But tonight, Levi felt none of those things. Frowning, he wondered why.

  His thoughts turned again to Paimon.

  "I'll find a way out of it. I'll find a way to make it right, Lord. I just have to take care of this first."

  Then, with Crowley running loose at his side, Levi headed into the woods toward Chickies Rock. Levi noticed that Crowley's tail had stopped wagging.

  They slipped beneath the trees, following a crooked, winding path. It occurred to Levi that he'd been walking a similar path, in one incarnation or another, for most of his life.

  Four

  Parker knew he should be focused on the task at hand---tracking the creature and killing it with extreme prejudice before the public figured out just what an epic cluster-fuck had occurred. Instead, he found himself thinking about going hunting with his father. His old man had been gone four years now, after a mercifully short battle with cancer (the disease had already metastasized before he got his diagnosis). Parker had gotten used to his death, but there were still times when the longing and grief crept up on him, surprising him with how strong and powerful they still were. Thinking of their hunting trips always made him smile. He could still picture them clear as day---he and his father up at the crack of dawn, then heading out into the woods and fields for small game. They'd bagged countless rabbits, pheasants, and quail together. The two had never had much luck turkey hunting, but deer season had usually brought a buck for at least one of them.

  Of course, those hunting trips were quite different than the one he was currently engaged in. Back then, he and his father had worn jeans, coats, and bright orange hunting vests. Now, Parker was decked out in camouflage, lightweight but sturdy body armor, combat boots, and a high-tech piece of headgear that supplied night-vision, infrared, communications, and even a GPS device. On trips with his father, he'd carried a 4-10 or a 30-06 that had once belonged to his uncle. Now, he was armed with a combat rifle so exclusive to Globe personnel that it didn't even have a commercial designation. Pictures of the weapon never popped up in gun magazines. They weren't available for purchase at gun shows or stores. Civilians and even military personnel didn't know they existed. And, should he find himself in close quarters combat, he could switch over to the sidearm or knife strapped to his hips, both of which were also Globe exclusives.

  Parker grinned, wondering what his father would think if he could see him now.

  He was still grinning when something snuck up behind him and slashed through the back of his neck, talons expertly seeking a soft spot not covered by his body armor. Before he could scream, the creature reached into the wound and snapped his spine, just at the base of his brain.

  Parker fell, thinking once more of his father.

  * * *

  For what must have been the fiftieth time since they'd disembarked from the plane at Harrisburg International Airport, Kinison silently cursed this entire mission. He'd had plans for tonight. Those plans had involved a redhead and her brunette friend, both of whom were known at the bar where he hung out as fans of men in uniform. It didn't matter who you were with---police, military, or a private security firm like Globe. If you carried a gun, chances were you could hook up with them for the night. Kinison had intended to do just that. What he hadn't planned on doing was hopping a flight to Pennsylvania Amish Country and sneaking around in the goddamned woods hunting for a fucking Bigfoot.

  He manually switched the optics in his visor from thermo-graphics to normal. The night vision and infrared settings always gave him a headache, and given his current mood, a migraine wouldn't help the situation right now. Besides, it's not like the thing was showing up in any case. If it was giving off body heat, then it must have wings, because nothing was registering on the ground.

  His ire turned to his superiors, and in turn, to their bosses, and then up the chain of command to the brain trust running the Globe Corporation itself. Whose idea had this been, anyway? Obviously, not anyone involved with the security division. Nobody in that department was that stupid. No, this shit sandwich had to have been cooked up by the dimwits in the media and entertainment division of the company. Those idiots were always fucking something up.

  Kinison often thought that Globe's biggest problem was that it was simply too large. The corporation seemed to be involved with everything. Oil drilling, entertainment, fiber optics, medical technology, communications, medical research, publishing---you name it, chances were good that the Globe Corporation was making money from it. The public wasn't even aware of the entirety of the company's subsidiaries and interests. In truth, Kinison suspected that most of the shareholders weren't aware, either. But the security division was. Anytime there was a problem or a mess to be cleaned up, they were the ones tasked to deal with it.

  Branches rustled in the treetops directly above him. Pausing, Kinison glanced upward in time to see a massive, dark form drop from the tree. The shape pummeled him to the ground, crushing Kinison beneath its weight. The beast knelt atop his chest, leering at him. Its liver-colored tongue protruded from between yellowish-white fangs, and snot dripped from its snout. The monster's stench was overwhelming---wet fur and animal musk. Kinison had time to utter a brief, weak gasp into his helmet microphone before his attacker's fingers closed around his throat. He felt claws digging into his skin as the creature seized his windpipe. Then, with a grunt, the beast ripped it out of his throat and tossed the organ aside.

  Kinison's head followed a moment later.

  * * *

  Frowning, Linda stopped walking and listened. For a moment, she'd thought she heard something in her headset. They were under orders to maintain radio silence as much as possible, so there was no cross chatter or horseplay. She preferred it that way. As one of the few women assigned to this detachment, and the only one tapped for extermination and clean-up duty, she anticipated the usual comments and teasing from her male team members. That was standard operating procedure on missions past. Not all of them engaged in such behavior, of course. This was 2013, after all. But there were still a few men who hadn't gotten the memo that women were their equals, rather than their subordinates. A few of them, especially assholes like Kinison, were on the squad. Linda had expected him to have started in on her already, delivering crude innuendos over the headsets regardless of orders to remain silent, but so far, he'd behaved. She was especially grateful that he hadn't made any jokes about her being on the rag, when in fact, she was. She hated going out into the field when she was on her period. Although she knew it was paranoid, Linda often worried that her male team members would know it and would judge her for it.

  When the sound wasn't repeated, she slowly started forward again, mindful of where she stepped, watching for fallen branches or piles of leaves that could alert the predator to her presence.

  Simultaneously, she remained alert for their prey, watching the spaces between the trees and looking for stool or a stray tuft of fur snagged in passing by a vine or branch. The forest was beautiful, and despite the present danger, Linda appreciated the serenity and foliage. But it was also eerily silent, and that unnerved her even more than Kinison's apparent good behavior.

  Judging by the digital readout on the inside of her visor, she guessed that she was nearing the infamous precipice for which Chickies Rock got its name. The ground became more treacherous. Stones jutted from the dirt, forcing her to go around them time and time again. In the dark, the rugged landscape was a minefield of potential pitfalls, especially given the fact that she was simultaneously focused on finding their target and not getting killed in the process.

  She frowned, catching a whiff of something nasty in the air, but before she could determine the source, a twig snapped behind her, sounding very loud in the darkness. Linda spun on her heels, knees locked, and her feet a shoulder's width apart, and brought her weapon up to fire. There was nothing behind her. The forest was empty.

  She turned around to proceed and came face to face with the beast. She'd seen pictures of the creature and its kind before the briefing, but those pictures hadn't done justice to just how hideous and horrifying the things were up close. Its stench was terrible, even from three feet away. Its snout bore pale, ragged scars from some former battle, and its fur was covered with thorns, seed pods, and dirt. Flies buzzed around the monsters eyes and nose, but the thing barely seemed to notice them. Its attention was focused on her.

  Fighting to remain calm, Linda clicked off the safety on her weapon. The beast's eyes darted downward, tracking the action, but it made no move to attack. Instead, its gaze met hers. Those black eyes seemed to study her almost longingly. Linda shuddered, remembering from the briefing how intelligent these animals were, and how, driven to the edge of extinction, they often attempted to mate with humans, gorillas, and similar mammals in a desperate effort to expand their line.

  "This is Simmons," she said quietly into her microphone.

  The creature stiffened, sniffing the air with its scarred snout.

  "I've made contact," she reported, and edged her finger toward the trigger, not wanting to spook the beast.

  The creature opened its broad mouth and grinned. It made a soft, purring noise in the back of its throat. With one hand, it reached down and groped itself between the legs.

  Shit, she thought as her finger found the trigger. This fucking thing is going to try to rape me.

  But it didn't. Instead, it lunged toward her, side-stepping the barrage that erupted from the barrel of her rifle, and slashed at her face with one clawed hand, ripping her cheek open and slicing through her helmet strap. Linda had time to scream before the claws of its other hand punctured her body armor and found the soft flesh of her abdomen beneath. Hissing, the beast knocked her weapon aside and clawed her face again, tearing her nose and lips to ribbons. Linda shrieked as her helmet slipped over her eyes.

  Although she couldn't see what happened to her next, she felt it.

  Luckily, it only lasted for a few brief seconds, and then she was silent again.

  * * *

  Ross, the team leader, whispered frantically into his headset as he rushed toward Linda's location.

  "Filizzi, Kinison, Parker, Guthrie, Nazarek, James. Report."

  "Copy, Ross," Filizzi said. "I've got Simmons on GPS. Proceeding to her location now."

  "James and I approaching from the north," Guthrie replied. "No sign of it yet."

  "Nazarek?" Ross asked. "What's your status?"

  "Scared shitless," Nazarek replied. "I think we're going to need bigger guns."

  "Stow that shit," Ross said. "Focus on the task at hand. Kinison and Parker, report?"

  Neither man replied.

  "Kinison? Parker?"

  Ross regretted his decision to break protocol for this hunt. The squad should have been split up into four groups of two, but the team was anxious to get the job over with and get back home, and splitting up had allowed them to cover more ground quickly. Plus, he'd reasoned that it was only one creature, rather than a tribe. It was in unfamiliar territory and still half-drugged. How hard could it be to hunt the thing?

  Pretty goddamned hard, as it turned out.

  Ross pressed a button on his helmet and a GPS locator appeared on the inside of his visor. Multi-colored dots showed the location of each team member. Kinison, who was purple, and Parker, who was green, were both stationary, as was Simmons. The fact that none of them were moving, Kinison and Parker weren't responding, and Simmons had replied with screams and gunshots, followed by silence, did not bode well.

  "Simmons..." Ross spoke quietly, but then decided to humanize his response a little more. "Linda. If you can hear me, but can't respond, just sit tight. We're coming in. You just hang on. Same goes for you, Parker and Kinison. Everyone else, converge on Simmons's location. Watch your asses. You were all briefed on this thing. A few of you were on the original island detachment. You all know what it's capable of. I'm guessing the tranquilizers are working their way out of its system faster than we were told to expect."

  "Copy that," James said. "Guthrie and I are almost there."

  "Affirmative," Guthrie confirmed. "No sign of it yet."

  "I still think we should cancel this hunting trip and find the nearest bar," Nazarek replied. His voice lilted with barely-suppressed laughter.

  Ross frowned. "Get your shit together, Nazarek. There's eight of us and one of it. We've got the advantage."

  "Fuck me," Filizzi moaned over the headset.

  "What's wrong?" Ross asked. "Do you have contact?"

  "No," Filizzi said. "I hit a ravine. Wasn't on the map, and the GPS showed it as shallower than it really is. I'm gonna have to backtrack."

  "We're almost there," James said. "Commencing radio silence."

  * * *

  The creature stood panting over the female's shredded form. It raised its claws to its mouth and licked the gore from them. Its muscles coiled, tense with frustration. Despite the fact that she'd been hunting him, the thing's natural biological urge had been to capture and mate with the woman, rather than kill her. But when she'd confronted it, and the beast had caught the scent of her menstruation and had known breeding would have not been successful, it had opted to kill her instead.

  Memories surfaced, though somewhat distant and dull, made muted by the strange substance its captors had tricked it into ingesting---a substance which caused the creature to fall into a deep sleep. The thing remembered its tribe, and the trouble they'd had procreating. Generations of interbreeding on their island had resulted in hideous, obscene mutations, most of which were born sterile. The beast itself had a mutation, albeit less conspicuous than those of its kindred. It had been born with two sphincters, one of which was useless and had grown shut over time. Many in its tribe had been worse off, cursed with blindness, deafness, oversized appendages, missing or multiple limbs, functionless genitalia, albinism, and worse.