Nick Carter: The Terrible Ones

The snarling started again and something heavy threshed about in the bushes outside. Nick glided swiftly to his makeshift pillow and reached blindly into the pack, cursing quietly at the thing that jabbed at his probing hand. He pulled it out, still sticky as it was, and slipped the knuckle rings over his fingers. Then he padded toward the narrow entrance and squinted through the darkness for the thing that snarled and snuffled near his feet.

He wondered if the dog was on a leash or whether they would let it bound in to chew the living hell out of whatever they thought was inside. Or if they would start yelling at him to surrender and then start pitching in stink bombs or something worse to smoke him out. But he did not plan to wait for their next move.

His lungs filled with the dank air of the cave and his throat worked strangely. AXE’s Department of Special Effects and Editing taught many things to those with the capacity to learn, and Carter was their most accomplished pupil. That was why he was Killmaster, and that was why he was here.

A chilling sound came bubbling up from his larynx, the sound of a soul in the distant reaches of hell, the babble of a creature driven mad by the tortures of the damned. He let it rise slowly and inexorably, listening to the horrors of his own unrecognizable voice with a sort of awe and dimly seeing the thick snout and spatulate paw of a huge hound scrabbling through the covering of the crevice. He edged back against the side wall of the cave, away from the hole but still within reach of it, raised his killing hand in readiness. His voice rose into a babbling howl of tormented laughter.

If I were a dog I would bristle, he thought to himself, and produced a keening note that was terrible to hear. The dog snarled and backed away. Nick raised his voice another notch. It came out in a high-pitched sobbing whine to make the hackles crawl, and the dog’s voice joined his in a duet that would have sounded fearsome in purgatory itself.

Nick paused for breath. The dog changed key and went into a solo of shrill, yelping snarls like those of a terrified wolf at bay. Voices, men’s voices, whispered urgently, and now he could detect the fear in the sharp hissing. He could even distinguish some of the words, delivered in the excited island patois.

“That I tell you, man, he djuba!”

“What, no djuba! Send in dog again, for sound no kill!”

“You mad, fella? That sound, he kill. I go.”

“You stay! So, dog no go in, we use smoke bomb instead.”

No, you don’t fella, Nick said silently, and he began to whistle. It was an unmelodic but imperative call, pitched so high that only the most acute of human ears could hear it at all, but he knew that the dog could hear. The snarling outside broke into a series of hesitant yaps and then became a little whimper. Shrubbery rustled again. Nick whistled on seductively.

“See dog?” he heard. “He go in now, no fear!”

The dog’s massive head and shoulders thrust their way in and the great nose snuffled near Nick’s feet. He backed away slowly, letting the dog come in after him. It was growling again, now, and the small gleam of torchlight that filtered through the opening showed a great spiked collar around its neck with a loosely held leash attached to it.

Nick stopped whistling and leapt backwards to land in a crouch facing the animal. The dog snarled viciously and flung itself at him, its jaws open to show rows of huge bared teeth.

Nick howled again and struck out savagely with the clawed hand that had already ripped out a man’s belly. Dogs were not his favorite victims, but if there was to be a sacrifice it had better be the dog. Hot breath fanned his face and two thick front legs slammed against his shoulders. Nick went down, cursing to himself, his steel claws raking the empty air above his head. The damned beast was enormous but it was fast, and in the treacherous darkness Nick had miscalculated his thrust. A wet muzzle thrust itself into his face and jaws snapped at his throat. He flung himself sideways and raked the claws across the slavering muzzle as hard as he could. The dog screamed and he slashed again at the side of the head, feeling the claws ripping deep through coat and skin and flesh.

The animal made an indescribable sound of agony and twisted itself around to double back the way it had come. Nick let it go. He heard the girl gasping behind him but he had no time for her now except to hiss—”Don’t move!” and then he made the bubbling wail come welling up through his throat. There were shouts outside and some thudding noises as though bodies had fallen from the impact of the dog’s wild onrush, but he had to go on with his act until he was sure he had routed them. He stalked slowly toward the opening in the rock where the bushes still quivered and rustled, and as he walked he made the sound come up gradually as though it were reaching out toward them. Then he halted at the entrance and forced a weird, whinnying dirge from his throat. If they knew their djuba well, they’d know what was supposed to happen next.

Nick stopped briefly and gathered breath. There were wailing cries from outside that were almost as blood-curdling as his own. A voice screamed out: “Oh, de dog, de dog! Look at him head! Ain’t no human fella made them marks!” Running footsteps thudded away into the night.

“So nobody said you hired to fight only human fella! You come back here….” The footsteps faded out and so did the voice. Its owner was still outside, Nick judged, but not happy in his work.

“I throw grenade!” someone else called bravely, from something of a distance.

“No you not throw anything! Grenade not kill djuba , you makeprayer sign instead!”

Nick laughed. It was an almost human sounding laugh, but not quite, and it started as a chuckle and rose into a cackle of fiendish, unholy glee, like the cry of a hyena in league with the devil. Yelps and snarls retreated into the distance, and then more running feet followed the first in sudden little bursts of frantic energy. High-pitched yowls of fright went with them. The pain-maddened dog still cried out its agony somewhere in the night.

Nick paused again and braced himself for one more chorus.

The djuba was said to mourn its own death, moan a mock lament for its victim, cackle with triumph, and then cry out again with the bubbling, questing sound that meant it was ready for more evil sport. Well, the dog wasn’t dead, it seemed, so the djuba was justified in having one more howl.

He gave it his all. When the last tremulous wail died away he stopped and listened intently. Not a sound. Not even the distant howl of a lacerated dog. With infinite care he moved out into the darkness. There was nothing in his line of vision;, nothing stirred.

The deep sigh behind him startled him until he remembered the girl. She stirred behind him and he heard the faint susurration of cloth against rock.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Got to be sure first. But as long as you’re up, bring me my shirt.” For some reason he had lapsed into English, but he was scarcely aware of it until she came up silently beside him and said, “Here’s your damned shirt.” He peered at her in surprise as he maneuvered the sleeve past the claw.

“What’s the matter?”

“The matter!” She made some sort of sound that might have been a stifled curse. “What are you, some kind of animal?”

He buttoned up briskly and stared at her dim form. No doubt she would have found him more human if he had killed the lot of them.

“Yeah, I’m a St. Bernard on rescue duty,” he growled softly. “Now shut up and keep still until I tell you you can move.”

She may have had some whispered comment to make but he did not wait to hear it. He lay flat on his belly and slowly wormed his way out through the crevice, more like a sinuous reptile than a shaggy dog, hugging the ground-shadows until he was well out in the open. Then he stopped and tuned all his senses in to the smells and sights and sounds of the surrounding night. For moments he lay there, ready with gun and claw for anything that might happen. But nothing happened, and very instinct told him that there was no immediate danger. He waited for another couple of minutes, cocking his ears and peering about in all directions, then rose silently and stepped back into the cave with a reassuring chirrup of sound.