Pete tried to bring up the rifle that was hanging by a strap around his neck. As he did so, the great horned owl shot out of the fog, striking the soldier with blunt force, talons piercing his hand and neck. The rifle dropped from the nerveless hand and would have fallen to the ground if it hadn’t been for the strap.
Amid a flutter of wings, the sky darkening for a moment, Duncan, Pete and Terry could barely make out the bobcat spinning around after it snarled, showing its teeth. It faded into the swirling fog and then was gone into the forest. The great horned owl did the same, its coloring allowing it to disappear as if it had never been.The only evidence that the owl had been there was the blood dripping steadily from Pete’s broken hand.
Once again, the forest went totally silent. After the rush of strange activity, the silence was almost deafening. At first, it was the lack of insects droning and the absence of the scuttering of lizards and mice through the leaves. Then they became aware of the number of vultures sitting in the branches of the trees. The gleaming black feathers stood out as black shapes, not just on the tree limbs but on several of the larger boulders lining the ridge. The turkey vultures, and there easily could have been thirty or more, stared at them with round, beady eyes. The combination of ominous silence and the strange behavior of the birds created a creepy, almost supernatural atmosphere.
“Wait,” Terry whispered. “Where’s Gerald?”
Immediately the three men stared at the spot where Gerald had been crouching, looking down into the narrow, somewhat shallow gorge.
“Where’d he go?” Pete asked, his voice no more than a whisper.
Terry took a step toward the edge of the ridge and then halted abruptly, his hand going to the M4 strapped around his neck. “There’s blood on the ground.”
The men gripped their rifles and formed a loose circle, going back-to-back as they surveyed their surroundings.
“Moving to the ridgeline,” Terry announced, taking slow, careful steps toward the spot where Gerald had last been seen.
Diego’s respect for Terry went up another notch. Terry was determined to look out for his fellow teammate. Duncan desperately wanted to lead the others, but he was clearly reluctant to go near the gorge. His gaze was fixed on the forest. The vultures and the last appearance of the owl had traumatized him. His hands trembled so much that his rifle was visibly shaking. Pete moved in syncwith Terry, covering his back, but Duncan stayed where he was, his head swiveling from one side to the other.
Diego was patient. He didn’t like leaving Leila for too long, but she was safe. He had not received any indication from his wildlife spies that others were hunting her. He also trusted her abilities. Leila had already proved herself in battle. She might be injured, and he wasn’t discounting how badly she was hurt, but she would fight if she had to. He believed her safe where she was. That gave him time to manage the soldiers hunting her.
Terry, his finger on the trigger, crouched low to examine the ground. “There’s fresh blood here. It looks as if he fell off the edge.” He peered down, stiffened and then rose. “It’s hard to see with this fog. It seems to be getting thicker, but I’m sure his body is down there.”
“What?” Pete said, whirling around. “Is he alive?”
“I don’t think so. He’s lying on top of the mass of beetles. Those are bodies down there for sure. It’s no wonder the vultures took flight with Gerald falling on top of them,” Terry reasoned. He continued to study the motionless body, trying to see through the swirling gray of the fog. “He isn’t moving.”
“We need to get out of here,” Duncan proclaimed urgently, still not changing his position. “Right now.”
“We have to check,” Terry said. “We have to ensure he’s really dead and doesn’t need our help.”
“Screw that,” Duncan shouted, suddenly turning his weapon toward Terry.
“Think about it, Duncan,” Pete said. “We can’t just go back and tell the commander we left his body here. He’s going to send someone to check on this site. If Gerald is still alive, and we’ve just left him to die, we’re all going to be court-martialed.”
Duncan swore, his voice harsh as he uttered one foul curse after another. “If you’re going to go down there, get to it. I’ve got to getto a medic.” He backed farther away from the ridge, separating himself from the other two.
If he were Pete and Terry, Diego wouldn’t trust that Duncan wouldn’t attempt to kill them. Neither of the two soldiers seemed to consider that Duncan might be that close to losing all courage.
Terry set his pack on the ground and rummaged through it, coming up with rope, which he securely anchored. “I’ll go down.”
“Make it fast,” Duncan muttered and took a few more steps to put distance between him and the others. Twice his finger stroked the trigger of his rifle, his narrowed gaze on Terry.
Diego didn’t want to shoot him. He preferred to add to the legend of the mountains, but he wasn’t going to allow the man to murder the one decent soldier on the team. Keeping his eye on Duncan, Diego began to circle around to get behind him. Pete was concerned with protecting Terry from falling as he rappelled down the side of the gorge. It wasn’t particularly deep, but it was steep. Diego didn’t want either of the two men paying attention to the retreating Duncan.
To ensure Duncan didn’t decide to shoot his fellow soldiers, Diego gave an order to the bobcat. He didn’t want to spook Duncan into firing but did want his concentration to be on the eyes shining at him through the swirling fog. Bobcats were nocturnal creatures, and as a rule their various vocalizations added to the eerie reputation of the Appalachian Mountains.
The cat wasn’t happy with Diego summoning him from his den during daylight hours. He answered the call reluctantly, made his appearance and was already retreating when Diego sent out another call for aid. Diego’s summons sounded like a male challenging the other male for territory, but the notes were slightly off. Just enough for the bobcat to know Diego’s call.
Duncan froze when he heard the unnerving snarl. It was impossible for him to tell where the frightening sound was comingfrom. That meant he couldn’t pinpoint where the cat was. The soldier began to turn in circles, his anxiety climbing.
Pete glanced up, looking toward the forest, but then, seeing nothing, turned his attention back to Terry, although he continued to glance toward the forest every few moments. The fog swirled in the air, growing heavier. Rising higher. Shadowy and murky, the mist diminished the ability to see clearly.
Pete called out, “Watch our backs, Duncan.”
Duncan ignored him, moving even farther from the forest and the ridge, trying to get to the only spot that was relatively clear. The ground was clear, even of rocks, a large oak tree with low-hanging branches providing the only cover. Duncan inspected the tree.
Diego nudged the cat to not only give the soldier a low warning hiss of displeasure but also show himself briefly from a distance, assuring the animal through images that he would be grateful and the cat could go back to its den. The bobcat provided the distraction Diego needed, emerging from the fog, eyes shining evilly, fixed on Duncan as if he were prey.
