James Smith - The Flock

"Crap. I had a bad feeling as soon as I saw he wasn't in there with us, with Kate and Levin," Mary said.

"You're breaking all kinds of laws, Mister. I work for a federal agency, and you can't threaten me with a firearm without screwing yourself big time. You understand what I'm saying? Know what it's like in a Federal prison? Think about it, Kamaguchi."

"It's Kahm-ah-GOOCH," the man with the gun screamed. "You idiots don't even know how to pronounce my name. Damn, that pisses me off." He fired another round at their feet, spraying them with sand again.

"We're going, we're going," Ron told him as they both turned and marched back to the building. As they did, they could see Levin and Billy Last-Name-Unknown standing in the doorway the two had so recently exited. Billy, too, was holding a firearm, a.357 Ron and Mary immediately recognized. Kate was nowhere to be seen.

As they got in close to Levin and the Seminole, Mary looked them both in the eyes and spat at them. "What do you guys think you're going to do with us? Kill us and all hell breaks loose. That, I can guarantee you."

"We're not going to shoot you unless you try to get away," Levin told them. "These birds are not going to be allowed to go extinct just because two idiots didn't know what they were doing. No way. None of that crap for me."

"You idiots," Ron exploded. "Don't you know we're not the only ones who know, now? Someone else obviously found out and was willing to kill Tim Dodd over it." Suddenly, the breath froze in Ron's lungs. He stared at Levin who looked back at him with a determined hardness to his gaze.

"You guys killed Dodd?" Mary asked what Ron was thinking.

"No. We didn't. But that doesn't mean we aren't willing to do what it takes to protect our interests." He pointed toward the door and indicated with a shrug that they should go through. Behind them, they could hear Kamaguchi coming close, but not close enough to grab.

"Then why are you doing something so stupid?" The two prisoners went through, back into the building. They were quickly flanked by Billy and Kamaguchi who both stayed wisely out of arm's reach to prevent a quick grab by either Ron or Mary, but close enough in to get a clear shot if the unexpected should occur.

"You're going to be our guests. Until Mr. Holcomb gets back," Levin told them.

"Does he know about this? Does he know what you're doing? This on his orders?" Ron glared back at Levin who stood just behind Billy.

"No. We haven't gotten in touch with him, yet. He hasn't responded to our calls. He hasn't called in, so we suppose his radio is still down."

"Maybe one of those birds got him," Mary said.

"No. They don't hunt men," he said with conviction. "He sometimes doesn't communicate when he's out in the field. That's all. At times, he turns off his radio and leaves it that way until he's ready to talk. He's had more luck in observing the flock than the rest of us combined, so we can't complain about it." They were halfway down the corridor, the room in which they had all so recently conversed just down the way.

Ron looked around. "Where's Kate?"

"She's around," Levin told him.

"Did she tell you idiots to do this? Huh?" Mary twisted and looked back at the two gunmen, and at Levin. Although she was shorter than any of them, Ron felt that his lady friend was more than their equal. If not for the guns. And Kamaguchi certainly knew how to use a gun. It wasn't worth the chance, and Ron knew that Mary wasn't stupid enough to try.

"Let's just say…she's not in a position to complain," Levin said. "Now open that door and go through."

Riggs reached out and turned the cool brass doorknob. The door clicked open and quickly Levin was at the door, pulling it out of Ron's grasp and swinging it wide to admit him. The room was small: ten feet square. Obviously some type of storage chamber, but cleared of all contents. In the center of the floor was Kate, laid out, her long hair fanned out on the tile, a bright purple knot on her forehead. But Ron could see that she was breathing, could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest, one hand covering her right breast, her legs bent neatly at the knees, almost as if posing.

"You bastards," Ron said as, for the second time that day, and in precisely the same spot, he took a blow from a blunt instrument to the back of his head. This time, the lights went out, and the last thing he saw before he met the floor was Mary looking down at him as the door was slammed shut.

"Load light and tight, boys," Grisham told his men.

He looked down on them from the vantage point of his office in the loft of the "barn." Yes, he actually boarded four horses there, at the rear of the building; and, yes, there was actually a pair of tractors and various wagons lodged safely in the overhanging shed that was attached to the big structure. But most of this barn was an armory and an array of intelligence gathering offices, with a recording studio added on for good measure. This was where Grisham spent most of his days, where he taped his thrice weekly radio shows, where he plotted his war games, where he preached to his men, where he prepared to do his part in the coming civil war.

Grisham was standing on a wooden deck, almost an elevated porch. Behind him was a plate glass window that showed his own well-kept office. A wooden staircase led down to the floor of the barn, maps tacked to the walls all around the gathered fire team. The commander looked down from a height of roughly twelve feet, which made him appear as superior as he currently felt. He was better than the lot of them rolled into one, and they all knew it.

"I've explained to you fellows why I chose you. We're not only going to have to hit human targets today, but we're also going to be doing some big game hunting. I'd say we'd do the big game first, but the truth is that I know where the people are going to be, but I only have a rough idea of where to look for the game."

He felt the heft of the bundle of neat, manila folders under his left arm. There was one for each man, and as soon as he'd seen that each of them had read every syllable of each report and had consumed every square centimeter of each photograph, he'd see to it that all of the intelligence was properly disposed of. Slowly, he began to descend the staircase, continuing to address his soldiers.

"You fellows know how fortunate you are. There are thirty men outside this building stewing in their disappointment right now. Any of them would have been equal to the task, I'm sure. But each of you is more than that. Each of you is the best I have, right now. I'd say that each and every one of you are the equal of anything the United States Armed Forces could throw at us these days."

Some of the hard-faced men nodded solemnly at Grisham's words.

"But you also all have extensive experience hunting big game. Dangerous game. As our other team eliminates the people on our list, we're going to be doing something truly great. Something you'll be able to think about for the rest of your lives." He then stared out at the group of six, and although he was not actually smiling, it was as close to a psychic grin as anything any of them would ever see.

"We're going to cause the extinction of an entire race of creatures Mankind isn't even aware of. An animal that exists right here in our midst, and which will be snuffed out within the next few days. We're going to destroy a creature that has no right to be." He was at the bottom of the stairway, standing on the wooden floor, hard planks under his military boots. Slowly, deliberately, he began to dole out the folders. Stenciled in stark, black letters on each folder was the term: Operation Terror Bird.

"Open them up, men." In unison, the half dozen bent back the covers and saw the face of the animal they were going to drive to extinction. A couple of them could not suppress a short exclamation.