Nick Carter - The Omega Terror

“Go away!” I yelled weakly at them.

They seemed not to hear. After the sound of my voice had died away, the desert appeared even more quiet. The silence was a buzzing in my ears, a sound itself. I let my head fall back onto the hard clay, and the double vision returned. I moaned aloud. It was only mid-afternoon, with several hours of scorching heat ahead before dusk came. I felt I would collapse long before that. And then the birds would get me. Very quickly.

I raised up on one elbow again. Maybe I had been walking in the wrong direction. Maybe I was putting more and more distance between myself and the road, removing any hope of rescue from a passing traveler. It was possible that every time I got up and moved I was moving closer to death.

No, I couldn’t think that way. It was too dangerous. I had to believe I was heading toward the road. Otherwise I would not have the courage, the will, to move at all.

I struggled again to my knees, my head feeling twice its size. I gritted my teeth and inched forward along the clay. I would not give up. I wondered briefly if Zeno had known I was not dead when he left me, but decided to let the desert do the killing. That would be typical of him. But to hell with Damon Zeno. I no longer cared about him. I no longer cared about the Omega Mutation. I wanted only to survive this day, to live.

Foot by foot I dragged myself along. I had little idea where I was headed. But it was important to keep moving, keep trying. I stumbled along, the hard clay burning and cutting me as I went, and I thought of Gabrielle. I thought of her in a dark, cool hotel room in Mhamid, lying on the big bed, naked. And then I was in the room with her, and I was moving over to the bed. Her arms embraced me, pulled me down beside her, and her flesh was cool and soft and scented like jasmine.

A short time later I found that I had passed out again. I was lying on my back, and the sun was broiling. Six vultures spiraled over me. I licked at dry, cracking lips and pushed myself up. But I did not have the strength to move. One of the vultures soared low and settled just a few yards away, making that stiff-legged goose-step at the end of the landing. Then another bird came down.

I yelled weakly at them, my heart pummeling the inside of my chest. The two birds made a couple of hops and in a dry, heavy rustling of feathers, lifted off again and joined their comrades aloft.

I lay back. I was wheezing hard, my pulse racing. I had run out of strength. I had to admit to myself that I had lost. Damon Zeno had gotten me. The sun and the birds would end it before another hour passed. I had no idea where I was, I could not see clearly for even a few yards. I suddenly thought of Wilhelmina for the first time and felt for its familiar shape in the holster at my side. It was not there. I had had it out when Zeno bushed me. He must have taken it. Even Hugo was gone. I had no weapon to use against the birds.

The vultures swooped lower and lower, floating and gliding, their bright, darting eyes eager and hungry. I rolled on my stomach and began crawling. With blood-smeared hands I crawled along like a snake, expending the last ounces of energy.

I was jolted to sudden consciousness by a sharp, tearing pain just under my left eye. I had passed out again and was lying on my back. My eyes shot open in terror, my hand coming up automatically in defense.

Two big vultures stood on my chest. The long scrawny necks, the obscene darting eyes, the hooked sharp beaks filled my field of vision, and their odor filled my nostrils. One vulture was jabbing and tearing at the leather of my holster strap, and the other had made its first stab at my eyes. The second bird was just about to make another try, when my hand came up. I yelled aloud and grabbed at the ugly neck.

The big bird screamed raucously and tried to get away. I hung on to the snakelike neck as the other vulture flailed its broad wings, scratching my chest as he pushed off. The one I held thrashed about wildly to free itself, beating its wings against my face, my chest, and arms and digging into me with its talons.

But I would not release that scrawny neck. I imagined the hideous head was Zeno’s, and through all the thrashing and the squawking, I managed slowly to get my other hand up and onto the neck, the sharp beak jabbing at the hand all the while and drawing blood. Then I rolled onto my side, pinned the bird to the ground and with a desperate surge of strength bent the long neck double. Something snapped inside, and I let go. The bird beat the clay with its wings for another couple of moments while the rank smell of it assailed my nostrils, and then it lay still.

I was sick from exhaustion. I thought for a moment I might throw up. But slowly the nausea subsided. I glanced around and saw the others. They were all on the ground now, some moving around me in a tight circle with that stiff-jointed neck-jerking walk, some just standing impatiently, watching.

I lay back, exhausted. A couple of them edged closer. I felt numbly under my left eye and there was a shallow gash there. My hand came away with blood on it. But the vulture had missed the eyeball.

I glanced at the dead bird with a small amount of satisfaction. They might get their grisly feast before the day was out, but I would make them work for the meal.

The other birds were now moving in slowly, their grotesque heads bobbing in quick, weird movements. They were excited by the smell of blood and very impatient.

I felt a sharp peck at my right leg and looked to see the bird standing beside me. The others were close too, inspecting the body for signs of life. Only one had been distracted by its dead companion. I was the meat they were waiting for. I swung weakly at the bird that had pecked me, and it fluttered backward a couple of feet.

Well, it would not be so bad after the first shock of pain. Men had died more terribly at the hands of L5 and the KGB. I could manage it, too. But I would not let them have my face. Not first anyway. I rolled heavily onto my chest and laid my face on my arm.

I lay there quietly, thinking of Zeno and my failure, and what that failure would mean. It appeared I would not be around to see the results. I listened to the rustle of feet and feathers growing louder as they closed in.

There was a great fluttering of wings, and another sound accompanied it. It was a familiar sound— a car engine. And then there was the voice,

“Nick! Mon Dieu, Nick!”

I moved my arm from my face, and my eyes fluttered open. The sun was going down in the sky, and it was not so bright now. I moved the arm again and rolled onto my side. Then I saw Gabrielle, bending over me, concern and relief in her eyes.

“Oh, Nick! I thought you were dead.”

She was pulling at the shredded cloth of my shirt. “Thank God, I found you in time.”

“How…?” It was difficult to speak. I couldn’t manipulate my tongue.

She helped me up and leaned my head against her. Then she was unscrewing the top of a canteen, and I could almost smell the water as the cap came off. The miraculous wet stuff was washing down my throat, gurgling its way to my insides, moving into the vital places replenishing my energy and my fiber.

“You’re only fifty yards from the road,” she said. She pointed beyond the Citrõen. “Didn’t you know?”

I could actually feel the energy returning with the water. I moved my tongue, and it would work now. “No, I didn’t.” I took another swig, then Gabrielle was touching my parched face with a damp cloth. “But what are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be in Mhamid.”

“Someone came into town with news of the fire. I could not just sit there at the hotel, thinking you might be in trouble. I was heading for the lab when I saw the two sets of car tracks leading down this road toward Tagounite, the next town from here. Since the laboratory had been leveled, I figured you were either caught in the fire or you belonged to one of those tracks. I preferred to believe the latter, so I followed the tracks. They turn off the road just up ahead, but I saw the vultures first. And they led me to you.”