David Golemon - Primeval

There was a grunt and then a man was thrust into the clearing. In the darkness, both Everett and Jack saw it was Will Mendenhall. He landed with a thud not far from them and Carl reached down to assist him to his feet. Mendenhall was bloodied somewhere in his scalp and his nose was broken.

"Sorry, Colonel… Captain," Will moaned, wiping blood from his nose. "This fucker cold-cocked me," Will said as one of the largest soldiers any of them had ever seen stepped into the clearing with his weapon leveled at Mendenhall's back. Then the Russian pointed his automatic at Alexander and gestured for him to join the others.

"I guess I'm getting too old for field work. I'm sorry, Jack." Alexander raised his hands as he stood next to Collins.

The large Russian waved his right hand and then the clearing became crowded with Russian commandos. They stood far back from the Americans, the Canadian, and lone Frenchman, but their weapons were well equipped and they were all aimed at preselected targets. Collins eyed the men surrounding them and then looked at Alexander.

"Will, do you think you're going to live?" Jack asked Mendenhall as he looked over the situation.

Will nodded his head, not liking the way it made him dizzy, but he didn't want the Russians to see how bad he was hurt. "I've been hit harder by my sister, Colonel," he said as he tried his best to stand straight, but kept most of his weight leaning against Everett.

"It's my fault, I was at point, I should have seen—"

"It's time to quit playing the good guy, Punchy."

Everett looked over at Alexander and saw a small smile appear as he lowered his hands.

Punchy turned and walked over to the largest of the Russians, the one that had slammed his rifle butt into Will's face, and reached out and took the holstered automatic from the man's side. Then he turned and faced Jack and the others. He clicked off the safety and then raised the weapon toward his one-time friend with the smile still on his face.

"Nice friends you have, Jack," Everett said as he reached out and steadied Will as he swayed, almost falling down.

Collins remained silent as he looked into the eyes of Alexander.

"I told you, Jack, you shouldn't cross the river tonight. My friends knew we were here and would have been waiting, and for the moment I can't have you hurt. You're far too valuable. However, everyone else here, including young Lynn across the way, are now expendable. Your sister has done quite well at luring you into the open, Jack… let's not waste that."

Charlie Ellenshaw, without warning, reached out and tried to grab a weapon that was in the firm hands of the Russian closest to him while at the same time pulling out the switchblade he kept in his back pocket. Jack and Everett tried to move, but for the first time in their professional lives, found they couldn't.

"Doc, no!" Collins finally shouted out.

Ellenshaw actually did manage to take the Spetsnaz off guard. He grabbed the barrel of the man's Kalashnikov, while at the same time slamming home the small knife into the man's arm, but that was as far as he got. While the Russian soldier screamed at the insult of the knife entering his arm, Punchy Alexander raised the automatic and shot Ellenshaw in the back. The professor, still holding the barrel of the weapon felt the bullet strike. He stumbled forward and fell, the bloody knife still clutched in his hand. The commando, ignoring the small wound to his arm, moved his feet out of the way and Charlie hit the dirt and lay still. The Spetsnaz watched the body go still and then spit on Ellenshaw's back.

Everett lunged but was stopped by Jack. Mendenhall turned and shouted something that was incoherent.

Collins gently shoved Carl back and then tossed the AK-47 to the ground. Then he looked up into Punchy's face.

"I'll kill you for that."

Alexander stood and shoved the still-smoking weapon into his waistband as he motioned for the Russians to take control of their new prisoners.

"The days of you making good on threats are over, Jack," he said as he stepped up and whispered into Collins's ear. "Tell me, as little as five years ago, could I have maneuvered you out of wherever you were hiding in the thick recesses of your black world and trick you into following your sister's kidnappers without you suspecting something was wrong?"

"What in the hell is he talking about, Jack?" Everett asked as he was shoved to the ground by a Russian and frisked.

"It was a setup from the beginning," Collins said as he, too, was shoved to the ground and roughly checked for more weapons. His pistol was tossed away and then for good measure, the large Spetsnaz shoved Jack's face into the dirt.

"Now, now, we'll have none of that. Our friend here is about to do us a great service. Let's move them across the river to meet the men they came here to meet?"

"Let me check the professor," Mendenhall said as Farbeaux was shoved into him.

"I'm afraid there is no use, Lieutenant, he cannot be saved," the Frenchman said. "And for that, I am sorry. I was becoming enamored with that quirky little man."

"Professor Ellenshaw is where he wanted to be, surrounded by the very forest that occupied his mind for so many years."

The four men were pushed toward the river. Collins passed close by Alexander and looked at him, but Jack said nothing — his statement on Punchy's future had been made and there was nothing left to add.

Charlie Ellenshaw moaned when he finally came to. His shoulder and the bones beneath hurt in such a way that he knew he had been paralyzed by his stupid action earlier. His line of thinking was a confused one in the moments leading up to his dreadful mistake — what could he do to save the others? Well, he managed to get himself shot and it hadn't made one ounce of difference to his friends, they were now captive and he was as good as dead. He had thought about what the colonel would do, or Captain Everett, if given an opening like he had been given and everything went well until he had decided to act upon his ridiculous thoughts.

Charlie tried to spit dirt and sand from his mouth, but found even that feeble effort too much for his overly taxed system. As his thoughts swirled around the fact that he was dying, his mind eased somewhat at the prospect. As he lay there he could hear the river and the voices of his killers as they moved about by the water's edge. The sound of a boat motor and then more shouted orders. Ellenshaw took a deep breath and wondered how long it would take to die. His pain had eased somewhat as his mind came to grips with the small factoid that here is where he would stay. At that moment, Ellenshaw realized he was no longer alone in the small clearing. It wasn't so much that he sensed it, but actually felt a heavy thud next to his head. Then he smelled that same gamey odor they had caught on the shifting winds coming from north of the Stikine.

Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III smiled. Then he thought back to a time when he wasn't in pain, when he still thought the world made some sort of sense, and in his mind he was almost an immortal that summer of '68. His memory came into play and he started in a low and halting voice to sing "Crimson and Clover" by Tommy James and the Shondells. When the words became too much to force out of his mouth, he hummed the verses, thinking he was doing it in his head.

When he finally ran out of breath, trying to hang on to a good memory from his youth, the song continued to be hummed. The sound was deep, harsh, but it was humming, and had all the nuances of the song from the sixties. He realized that something was mimicking his own version of a moment before. Then the humming stopped and silence permeated the empty camp.

"I'm ready," Charlie whispered.

As he said those two words, he felt the ground actually shake and then something touched his tousled hair. As his eyes fluttered open, he felt something tapping on the right lens of his thick glasses. He tried to focus on the large finger and thick black nail as it almost pushed his glasses into his face with the force of the tapping. He heard a grunt and then felt pressure on his back where he thought he had been shot. Something probed his wound, and then the feeling disappeared. Then he heard a smacking sound as if something were tasting him.