Chapter 16- Conflicting Orders

 Chapter 16

Conflicting Orders

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

Peter Dalton felt the tension rising but tried to stay above it.  While he was at West Point they had taught him about the fragile aura of command, that often in the field the men’s ability to function in the field depended on your confidence, your ability to project confidence.

Peter was stood up now, waiting for the helicopter bird to get on site.  It was an old fashioned Kiowa, small and ugly.  The crowd under it started to break up and Dalton was grateful for that.  The villagers were an unnecessary complication.

Dalton looked back over at Dietz.  Dietz was staring at the strange burned corpse that had been brought to them.  Another body was still burning in the church.

“Newman, go and rig up some flame-throwers,” said Dalton.

“What?” replied Newman.

“Go and rig up a couple of flamethrowers.  Ostrow will have some,”

“Yes, yes sir,” said Newman and rushed out.

“If we’ve got to burn bodies, better to have the right equipment,” explained Dalton.

Dietz nodded but Chung and McPherson looked at him with questioning eyes.

Sergeant Harrison and agent Wharton arrived at last too.  Things were only going to get more complicated.

“What’s that helicopter doing landing here?” asked Wharton.

“Medivac.  We’ve got a wounded man,” said Dietz.

“What happened to him?” asked Wharton.

“A villager assaulted him, he’s hurt pretty bad,” replied Dietz.

“He’s a critical casualty.  We’ve got to get him clear,” added Dalton.

“Do you know why he was attacked?” asked Wharton.

“No, some of the villagers are infected with something,” said Dietz, now helping to carry Wharton towards the helicopter.  Barrow wasn’t moving and his face was an ashen color.  Dalton didn’t like the Captain’s chances.

“Infected?” said Wharton, the word harsh and jagged.

“Yes,” Dalton said back, keeping it simple.

“So an infected persona attacked one of your men?” the tension in the room rose a notch.

“We’ve got this under control.  The bodies are being burned to reduce risk of further infection,”

“Let alone them attacking us anymore,” chipped in Storm, unhelpfully.

“You’ve had a man attacked and critically wounded by an infected person and you’re sending them off site? What about contagion?” asked Wharton.  This was the killer question.

Dalton turned to look at the agent.  Wharton was taller by a few inches and had seemed to get taller as the temperature had risen inside the church.

“I’ve got to clear a critical casualty.  I don’t intend to let my man die here,” he said back, slowly and what he hoped would be calmly.

Wharton left it for a beat and then shot back.  “And you’ve risked a possible further infection.  What if the medics catch whatever it was that the attacker had?”

“They’ve been properly warned and they’ll no doubt use all proper caution,” replied Dalton.

“This isn’t a normal infection,” added Chung.  Dalton felt the twist, Chung had looked up to him but was now against him.

“We don’t know what it is Lieutenant.  Put that damned fire out,” he said sternly.

“We should have isolated him here, we need to know what’s going on,” said Wharton.

“That’s enough questions now.  This is a military operation and I’m in charge of it,”

“It may be a military operation but I don’t take orders from you,” replied Wharton.

“That’s enough, this isn’t helping,” said Dietz fiercely.

“Captain Dietz, the Major’s decision making is erratic here,” said Wharton imploringly.

“That’s enough from you,” barked Dietz.

Wharton looked from Dietz to Dalton and then back again.  Wharton turned away.

Chung stood motionless, watching the scene unfold.

“You were given an order Lieutenant.  Execute it,” said Dietz.  Chung nodded and got the fire extinguisher out.

Dalton felt his chest growing tighter again and the room began to swim a little.  Peter Dalton breathed as slowly and methodically as he could and walked out the door.  They were loading Barrow onto the chopper.  Sergeant Harrison came and stood next to him.

“You ok sir?” he asked.

“I’m fine,”

“We’ve got a major situation here.  If there is a contagion, we’re not properly equipped to deal with it.  If it’s airborne…” began Harrison.
“Then the entire team is probably already infected.  Yes I know,” finished Dalton.

“Respirators?”

“They wouldn’t stop a flu germ, let alone something more insidious,” said Dalton.  “No we need more answers.  And we need a doctor or two on site,”

“Excuse me?” said a young man with dark hair.

“Not now,” said Dalton and turned away, back to the church.

“Excuse me, sir?” asked the young man again but Harrison brushed him aside.

Dalton returned to the church.  He took out his radio.

“Dalton here, I need to speak to Briar,”

“Ops here,” replied the voice on the radio.

“We’ve secured the village for now.  There was a couple of possible secondary infections but we’ve dealt with them.  We critically need a doctor on site to help us examine this infection.”

“I’m not sure I want to risk sending anyone else into the hot zone at this time.  Are you sure it’s necessary?”

“If you want to know what’s happening down here, yes it is quite necessary,” replied Dalton, feeling the pain in his chest again.

“Ok, I’ll get a doctor to the site.  But your personnel includes at least two bright young Lieutenants with a background in biology.  They should be able to give you a prelim on what you’re dealing with,”

“Or you could just tell me, sir,” said Dalton curtly.

“I don’t know much more than you do, Major,” replied the General.

“What’s the…what’s the infection risk?  To my team?” asked Dalton.

“High.  But you’d need to come into sudden and direct contact with someone else who was infected.  I don’t believe it’s airborne,”

“That’s reassuring.  If it was my entire team would already be dead wouldn’t they?” replied Dalton bitterly.

“Major, you need to focus on the task in hand,”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“I see you’re sending out a critical casualty,” asked the voice.

“Yes, Barrow, the army Captain.  I don’t think he’s got much chance but I wanted to give him a fair shot,”

“I’ll give orders for him to be put in to exclusion and then treated,” replied the voice.

“Fine,” said Dalton, feeling weak.  He wanted to sit down.

“Major, Pete.  I need you to dig in and get this situation under control.  If you cant hack it…”

“I can manage it just fine.  Dalton out,” snapped Dalton, cutting off the radio.

Satcom, somewhere in Virginia

General Petersen sat back into his chair and breathed out a long slow sigh.

“You know we cant allow a wounded man out of the zone unless we’re one hundred percent sure he’s clean,” said Colonel Sickles.

Petersen looked up at him, a grey eyebrow raised.

“Cant allow?” he said slowly.

“This situation is highly critical.  We’ve got to make sure it’s pinned down as tight as a tick sir,” replied the colonel.

“It is.  We’ve got a critical casualty to examine.  We’ll do it clean and safe.”

“If it was me, I’d give the order to shoot down the helicopter,” replied Sickles.

Petersen sat up suddenly.

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Don’t tell me, sir, that you haven’t considered just bombing Villa Cyranno off the face of the Earth?” shot back Sickles.

“It’s a last god-damned resort.  We’ve got US air force personnel in there,”

“Not to mention a couple of hundred civilians.  But what’s that compared to a pandemic,” said Sickles coolly.

“I think you underestimate our ability to manage this situation Colonel,” Said General Petersen.

“Yes sir,” Said the colonel.

Over on the big board, there was a map of Venezuela.  In the middle of nowhere was a small black dot with glowing golden writing above it.  It simply read “Infected Zone 1”.

Chapter 15- Prototype

Chapter 15

Prototype

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

The fire burned bright and quickly, spreading out over the wrecked pig pen and its contents.  There was a low moaning sound from the inhabitant of the pen but beyond that, there was little sign that anything alive was inside it.

Elsewhere, Hannah could hear shouts, cries, alarums and excursions.  But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the brightly burning fire.  There was motion within it but it was slight, muted and slow.  Something was still moving within the fire.

“If that doesn’t kill it…” began Storm.

“It’ll kill it.  Nothing can survive being burned alive.  Not for long anyway,” Said Chung.

Hannah looked over at Chung, studied his face.  She had a thought that she wanted to give voice to but she kept it inside, kept it close.

The fire flickered and continued to blaze away.  Embers floated up delicately.

“Don’t get too close,” said Chung.

“Do you think its dead?” asked Storm.

“We’ll dig it out in a minute and take a closer look,” replied Chung.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” squawked Newman.

“We’ve got to know what the hell that was we’re dealing with.  What kind of organism could have done that,” replied Chung, his tone sharp.

“I agree,” said Hannah.  They turned to look at her.

“We need some answers here,” she said plainly

Hannah took out her radio.  “This is McPherson.  Anyone copy?”

“Dietz,” came a curt reply.

“Captain, what’s going on?  Is the area secure?”

“No, not at this time.  Secure what you’re doing and then join us at the church,”

“Copy that,” she replied.

“Dietz out.”  The radio went dead and Hannah looked to the others.  “We’re wanted at the church.  Newman, Storm, make sure this site is properly secured and then join us there,”

“Yes sir,” replied Storm.  “Come on Danny-boy, let’s get a shovel.”

Newman looked pale and wide eyed.  Marcus Chung followed Hannah to the church.

“Did the Major say what was going on?” asked Chung.

“No,” replied Hannah.

“What do you think is going on?” asked Chung, looking for the answers that Hannah wanted.

“I don’t know.  I have my theories,”

Before they even reached the church they could see a fire burning.  There were now a small crowd of people in a rough semi circle around the church door. They seemed very upset and agitated.

“You speak much Spanish?” asked Hannah.

“Yeah, enough, “replied Marcus.

She stopped in front of the crowd and spoke to them quickly and calmly in Spanish.  Meanwhile Marcus spoke to one or two others.  The crowd were angry, why were they burning the church?  Why were they shooting the farm animals?  What was going on?

“There’s a possible contagion on the loose.  We need you to all remain in the village and to stay calm,” said Hannah.  Marcus looked over at her but then went back to speaking to his villagers.

“What sort of contagion?” asked a thin man with dark hair.

“A communicable disease.  You’re all safe as long as you stay within the village.  For now just stay out of the way, we need to burn the dead animals,” she said.

“You shot a man too, a priest,” said an older man, a barrel chested man with graying hair.

“Yes we did.  He was attempting to kill a member of the team.  Now we must get on to figure out what is going on.  Try to stay calm<” she said.

“I’m the Mayor here.  I want to know what’s going on,” said the grey haired man.

“I just told you what’s going on.  Excuse us,” She said and she turned to meet Captain Dietz.

After the Captain had told them what was going on, they were confronted with Captain Barrow.  He was bloody and bruised but otherwise didn’t look to be in too bad a shape.  However deep discoloration under his jaw showed plainly..

“What happened to him?” asked Hannah, able to keep the shock out of her voice.

“We’re not entirely sure.  But the priest attacked him,” replied Dietz.

“Is he going to make it?” asked Hannah.

“He needs medical attention, beyond anything we’ve got,” replied Dietz.

“Why did the priest attack him?” asked Marcus.

“No idea.  What sort of trouble did you run into?”

“A man whose been exposed to something.  He barely seemed human,” replied Hannah.

“Yes, that’s what happened here too,” added Wooderson.

“We don’t know that yet, it could be two separate incidents,” said Dietz.

“Come off it Captain” barked Wooderson.

“That’s enough out of you Sergeant,” replied Dietz.  “Our guy took twenty or thirty hits of nine millimeter ammo before he went down,”

“Including two in the head at close range,” added Wooderson sullenly.

“I must have hit our guy twenty times at least with the P-90.  He was still trying to get up even after we’d all but beheaded him,” said Hannah, amazed at the dull sound of her voice.

“Jesus,” said Wooderson.

“You didn’t see anything like that around here?” asked Dietz to Marcus.

“No, but I saw the body of the guy that McPherson and Storm took out. Something warped him, he looked awful,” said Marcus.

Dalton hadn’t said anything the entire time and that worried Hannah McPherson a great deal.  She heard the foot steps behind them and another choir of Spanish voices.  Storm and Newman showed up with a tote-bag and a shovel.

“We brought our thing,” said Storm, his face a bit paler than normal.

“Good man,” Said Marcus.

“It’s fucking horrible,” said Newman.

“Go and get a smoke,” Said Wooderson to Newman.  Newman nodded and drew a pack of cigarettes from his helmet.  

Whatever it was that they dragged from the fire, it barely seemed human at all.  Twisted limbs were coiled around a scorched torso and the face was bizarre, horribly disfigured.  The long, misshapen hands were bent at an extreme angle and bore long claw like fingers at the end of them.  Each of them had been embedded into the dead pigs.

In addition to that, there were pipe like extrusions from the “man” that had wound around what little remained of the pigs.  The pigs looked dissolved. 

“They look melted,” said Dietz.

“Yes they do,” replied Chung.

“Burned?” asked Dalton.  Hannah was reassured that he was actually paying some attention.

“Melted” repeated Dietz. “Like something got on them.”

“Something acidic perhaps?” asked Dalton.

The radio chimed and Dietz picked up the call.

“Dietz,” he said.

“This is Harrison, we’ve finished our sweep.  It’s kind of weird and the villagers are pissed but we’ve not found any missing guys.  Nor anything worth shootin’ at.”

“Roger that.  Finish your sweep and then double back here,” said Dietz.  Dietz looked thoughtful for a minute or two.

“Ostrow, Charlie are you there?”

“Ostrow here, what’s up?” came the reply.

“We’ve got a seriously wounded man here I want to ‘exfil’ him as soon as possible.”

“Roger that.  Get him down here and I’ll get him out,”

“Good man.” Said Dietz.  “Newman, Storm, you’ll carry the Captain carefully to the helicopter and get him onboard.  Newman, you’ll stay onboard with him and get him the hell out of here,”

“Hang on a minute,” said Dalton.  “I want Ostrow on site here.  We’ve got a rescue bird inbound, we’ll use that.”

“Sir, I’m not sure we should delay that long,” Replied Chung.

“Dietz, get in touch with Hospital Twenty Two and get them to come and pick up Barrow,” said Dalton.  Marcus looked over implorlingly at Dietz but Dietz nodded and took out his microphone.

“Hannah,” hissed Marcus.

“Sir, Major.  We need to move him quickly or he’ll not make it.” Said Marcus.

Dalton looked away.  Hannah looked on but said nothing.

“Sir?” asked Marcus.  “Sir we need to move him now or he’s going to die.”
“That’s enough from you Lieutenant,” barked Dietz.

“Sir I…”
“You heard me mister.” Said Dietz sternly.  Marcus looked down and Dietz finished his radio call.

“Hospital Twenty two inbound, one casualty to collect,” Came the reply.

Chapter 14- Extreme Measures

Chapter 14

Extreme Measures

Satcom, Somewhere in Virginia

General Petersen looked out from behind his desk out the window at the bay of screens that made up the “big board.”  It was generally considered to be a bit unprofessional to refer to it as “the big board” but Petersen did not care at this point.

His desk was a large black oak desk and it was a work of beauty.  It had been hand crafted in Zurich, Switzerland and had cost around nine thousand dollars.  Uncle Sam hadnt been billed for it, Tom Peteresen had paid for this sucker himself.

It wasn’t a cluttered desk, it was largely empty.  There was a jar for pens and pencils, specially made.  There was also a framed photo of the Petersen brood, including Mrs Petersen herself.  General Petersen grimaced when he looked at the picture and remembered the last time they had spoken, the bitter words that he had absorbed.

There was also a small wooden block with the flags of America and Virginia flying from it.  They were small flags, the kind that a small soldier might carry into battle.  Petersen had carried his company pennant at West Point what seemed like a million years ago, before Vietnam, before he had a desk.

General Petersen hated the intercom so it was inside a draw in his desk.  He could still hear the infernal machine buzzing him out.
“What is it Molly?” he growled into the draw.

“General, you asked to be told when the package was all up and ready to go?” she said, her voice was friendly, it wasn’t timid.

“Good, thank you Lieutenant.  I’ll be out in a minute,” he closed the draw again and got to his feet. The familiar pains shot down his back and into his knees.  He pulled his jacket straight and put on his old cap.

The door opened suddenly and a nearby non-com jumped.  General Petersen swung out of the door like an old west gunslinger, his walk full of machismo, even at his age.  “Attention everyone,” barked the General.  He stood straight, despite the pain it gave him.

A few officers were still giving orders down the radios.  Colonel Sickles looked over at them with an evil eye.

“Attention!” yelled the General, putting the emphasis on the “shun”.  The officers snapped to.  “Ok I want a proper report here.  How are we fixed?”

“Everything is up and online, just like you asked.  There are two squadrons of F22 Raptor’s standing on station, call sign’s are Red Eagle and White Eagle.  There’s a Specter Gun Ship already en-route, call sign Giant-Killer.” Said Colonel Chris Cole.  He was the ranking officer in the room when the General wasn’t around

“Good,” Said Petersen.  He was a big fan of the ole “Spooky.”

“The Marine Extraction force is all set too.  They policed up a full regimental combat team.  Colonel Det Schweizer is in command,”

Petersen sneered. He didn’t like the sound of the guy already.  “Ok, the brief is that we have a possible severe exposure to a code black bio-weapon.  Our orders are to get into this, to seal it the fuck down and get our guys out if we can.  If we cant, we have to put containment above everything else,” The words echoed around the cramped room.  Some of the younger faces gaped up at him.  It was just like Nam all over again that regard.  The young officers stayed the same.

“Containment is our number one priority here.  Nothing else matters in comparison,” Said General Petersen.  He looked over at Colonel Cole, the veteran officer nodded and began to put the men into action.  Petersen then looked over at Colonel Sickles, too young to be a full colonel. Sickles nodded up at the General.  Petersen felt the pain his knees but let nothing show.

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

Lt Chung heard the loud report of the grenade and spun around.  Newman, carrying a P90 sub-machine gun, had dropped prone and for a moment, Chung had wondered who had overreacted and who was going to get killed.

Marcus Chung had never been under fire before and for that he was a little ashamed.  He’d done a tour in Iraq but he’d been based at the air-field and there had never been any real action there.  He’d wondered what it felt like when you got shot at, when bombs were going off around you.  He wondered seriously if he was up to that job.  Now there had been an explosion somewhere and he realized that he was a little out of his element.

“What was that?” asked Newman, his eyes wide.

“Grenade,” Replied Chung.  “You can get up.”  Newman looked resentfully up at the lieutenant and then got to his feet.

The two of them moved quickly, Chung leading the way.  Chung saw the cloud of smoke pouring up from a wooden hut.  It proved to be a pig pen.  Before they reached it and got an explanation, a woman appeared from nowhere.  She was in her late fifties or early sixties, dark hair and a sun battered face. She began assailing them in fluent and high speed Spanish.  Marcus spoke a little Spanish, you didn’t grow up in Los Angeles and not pick up some Espanol.  But Marcus couldn’t follow the words, not at this speed.

“Lo Siento” He said and pushed past her.

Hannah McPherson, a person that Marcus liked and generally considered to be quite reasonable and sane, appeared to be pouring kerosene onto this pig pen.  “What in God’s name are you doing?” asked Chung, incredulous.

Hannah didn’t reply, she just kept pouring Kerosene.  She’d emptied an entire drum of the stuff onto the pig pen.  To her left stood Storm, he was smoking a cigarette.

“Specialist, put that damn cigarette out before you blow us all to hell,” barked Chung.

“I think we might already be there Lieutenant,” drawled Storm in his South Carolina accent.

“Just do it,” snapped Chung.

“Sir,” Replied Storm with a smile.  He put the cigarette out onto his own Kevlar body armour with a hiss that made Chung’s skin crawl.

“What are you doing Hannah?” asked Marcus Chung.

She turned and looked at him and for a moment, he thought she was going to slap him.  Her face was twisted, her normal bright eyes dull.  She had a blood stain on her chin.  Chung looked at her and he closed his mouth.

“We need to burn this,” she said flatly.

“Why?” asked Chung.

“Show him what’s in there,” she said tonelessly.

Storm grinned and pointed into the pig pen where there was smoke rising already.  Chung could see writing feet and something else.  He got closer, caught a glimpse, turned and had to put a hand to his mouth.

“What the fuck is that?” asked Newman.

“You’re next kiddo,” Said Storm.

“We’ve got to burn it,” Repeated Hannah.

“Yes we do.  But first we need to know what it is,” said Chung, amazed at his own apparent calm.  “Storm, shine a light on it.”

Storm did so, taking a flashlight and shining it onto the strange, bloody mess that was still moving.  Newman caught a glimpse and sprang backwards.

“Oh fuck me,” he screeched.

“Pretty aint it?” said Storm, with no mirth in his voice at all.

Chung gazed at the hellish apparition and saw something that turned his stomach again.  He fought back the reaction, the desire to turn and throw up, to turn and run.   He may have been out of his element when grenades were going off, but this might be closer to it.

“Well you know that this isn’t a human being, right?” asked Chung.

“We figured that when we shot his head off and he tried to get up,” shot back Storm.

“But did you see what happened with the pigs?” asked Chung.

“Yes,” breathed Hannah.

“He’s fused with them, the pigs.”

“Yes,” she said again.

“So what the fuck is he?” asked Newman.

“He’s taking over the pigs mass,” Said Chung.  “Look at the way they are almost being dissolved.”  The flashlight caught a glimpse of something that may have been porcine once.

“I have my suspicions about this thing.  But yes, you’re right.  We’ve got to kill it.  Set the fire.” Said Chung.  Hannah’s face brightened up and she threw a lit matchbook into the pig pen.

The fire sprung up quickly and there was a strange burbling scream from inside the pig pen.  Chung couldn’t decide what it sounded like but it was certainly not human.  He ran his hands through his hair and took a drink of water from a shaking bottle.  His hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“We’ll need to put that out, I want to be able to examine it,” Said Chung.

“For what?” asked Newman.

“I need to find out what we’re dealing with here, what this thing is” Replied Chung.

“Ok,” Said Hannah, she watched the fire burn and Chung thought he saw a little life return to those eyes.

Chapter 13- Expert Witness

Chapter 13

Expert Witness

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

The stranger with the gun had moved off quickly and quietly, a sense of purpose behind his every step.  Beyond recognizing the uniform, Oscar had recognized the stealthy and muscular style of movement, the man was a professional.

Oscar had watched from a distance, simply trying to breathe in and out.  The calm he had felt had faded away after the man had moved off.  But Oscar had never gotten a sense that the man would simply shoot him, he had seemed decent.

But Oscar didn’t want a man with a gun randomly wandering around his village, no matter how he felt about Cyranno at this point.  So Oscar had decided to creep behind him at a safe distance.  The man had suggested that he moved faster alone and now Oscar didn’t doubt that.  But he hadn’t said “don’t follow me.”

The man had gone into the barn and Oscar had followed, edging around the barn.  It was then he first heard the strange sounds from elsewhere in the village.  Oscar had kept low, to avoid the gaze of the man with his gun.  But he had been able to follow him to the church.

Once inside he was no longer visible so Oscar had to move around the church to look in through a window.  He saw the priest, Father Castillo, and another man dressed in a similar garb.  But the other “priest” wasn’t familiar to Oscar.  And if someone was in the village that Oscar didn’t recognize, that was certainly something.

Was this the missing army man that the stranger had been talking about?  Was he dangerous?  If he was, why was Father Castillo helping him?  Oscar wondered what to do.  He certainly didn’t think that Don Brazzo was the man to talk to, even now.

The first gunshot had shocked Oscar out of his thoughts.  Oscar stared in wide eyed amazement as Father Castillo attacked the stranger.  More gun shots and a strange growling sound.  The other man turned and walked away, out the back door.  Oscar edged around the back of the church.  ‘Why did he attack him?’ wondered Oscar.  Father Castillo was occasionally a little drunk but never dangerous.

He saw the helicopter, a huge vehicle that seemed like something out of a movie came down with surprising grace behind the village.  Sand and dust was blown across him and he covered his face with one hand.

The strange man dressed like a priest walked away.  There was blood on his hands, Oscar could see that from a distance. Oscar watched him walk, a slow normal walk that did nothing to draw attention to him.  Oscar then saw blue uniformed people moving through the village, guns drawn.

“Mother of God,” he whispered to himself.  Oscar moved quickly, keeping low.  The stranger in black, this false priest, walked quickly now but still kept a simple upright profile.  Oscar stopped not too far from him but dodged back behind Don Cardenza’s house.

He looked back out as the priest stalked on, past the edge of the village and on.  Where was he going?  He was trying to avoid the army people, that was obvious.  Oscar continued to follow him.

The “priest” walked on, never slowing up, never seeming to need to take a break.  “Where are you going?” thought Oscar.  The next village was Villa Escobar and was another twenty miles from where they were now.

Oscar watched him for a moment and then decided to go back to the village.  Something strange was happening and he needed to make sure that the village would be ok.  He shook his head, if he had followed through with his threat to leave last winter, he would be reading about this in some paper rather than living through it.

Oscar moved quickly back to the village.  The first gun shots made him duck low.  But then there were more and more.  The clatter of machine gun fire caused Oscar to curse and drop prone for a moment.  “Not shooting at me,” he whispered to himself and got back up.  He rushed back to the village

Oscar was sent sprawling when he collided with Ivan Massarov, the village’s engineer in residence.  “Mother of God,” Shouted Oscar.  “You scared me to death!”

“Oscar!  There is shooting here,” Said Ivan in his functional but colorless Spanish.

“Yeah, there are US army people here,” Said Oscar.

“Why?” asked Ivan, looking around in alarm.

“I think a very dangerous man is on the loose and they are trying to find him.  Excuse me, I must get back to the church,” said Oscar.

“Why?” asked Ivan.

“Because Father Castillo attacked one of the soldiers!” snapped Oscar, moving away.

“Why?” Ivan seemed to have a million questions today.  Oscar didn’t have even half of the answers so moved away quickly.  Ivan began to follow him.

Oscar reached the church and looked back into the window.  There was movement inside but from the angle of this window, Oscar couldn’t make out what was happening.

“Gun shots,” Said Ivan, “More of them.”

“Yes” Said Oscar, impatiently.

Oscar moved around to the rear window.  He was not prepared in the slightest for what he saw there.  Captain Barrow wasn’t visible from where Oscar was stood.  But the friendly old priest, Father Castillo, stood there in front of him.  He was recognizable from his girth, his bearing.  But his face was gone, totally gone.

Where a jowly old man had once been, there was now a stranger.  Two dark pits where eyes had been.  There was blood smeared around them.  His mouth was a long tear in the face, extending almost from ear to ear.  Teeth seemed to be visible but they were utterly unlike anything human.

Whilst Oscar had been at university he had seen the jaws of a shark, preserved on the wall.  They were long, wickedly pointed like daggers.  The priest that was not a priest had teeth like that, teeth like a shark.

“Mother of God,” said Oscar.  Ivan leaned in next to him.

“What the fuck is that?” he breathed over Oscar’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.  But it isn’t Father Castillo.  It only looks like him.”

The door burst open and three army men in blue uniforms appeared.  Father Castillo’s face seemed to shift again and gradually began to take on a near human aspect until it was almost Father Castillo again.

When he turned around, he was shot repeatedly by the army men.  Oscar and Ivan took cover as round exploded into the wall in front of them.

“What the hell is that?” asked Ivan.

“I don’t know, but it’s not Father Castillo.  Something very bad has happened here.  We’ve got to warn someone.”

“Don Brazzo?” asked Ivan.

“Perhaps,” muttered Oscar.  He began to think.

There were more gun shots and Oscar’s mind raced, trying to find a solution to the problem, trying to knit all of these disparate elements together. A man was escaping from the village.  Another ‘man’ had taken the place of Father Castillo.  He’d now been killed by the army.

Oscar heard a woman scream and turned around to see Mrs De Lopez fleeing from her house on the edge of the village.  “Go after her, make sure she’s ok!” hissed Oscar at Ivan.  Ivan looked blankly back at Oscar for a moment.

“She’s sixty five years old, what’s she running from?” asked Oscar.

“Oh, sure yeah I’ll make sure she’s ok.  Sure.” Said Oscar and moved away, keeping very low, almost comically low.

Oscar moved back around the church when he heard the familiar voice of Don Brazzo.

“What are you doing here?  Why are you shooting?  Did you just shoot Father Castillo?  He’s a man of the cloth!  Are you mad?”

Oscar braced himself for the inevitable clash and moved around to Don Brazzo’s right.

“Don Brazzo, there is something very strange going on, we must warn these people.”
“Of course there is something strange going on here, these people are shooting like it is the OK Coral.  Americans, they are insane!”

Oscar switched to English but no one heard what he said.

“Stay away from the priest; he’s not what he looks like.  He’s not priest.”

“We’ve got to burn it.” Said an American.