Chapter 4: The Clouds Part

George Rice reckoned himself a good Christian. He didn't think of himself as perfect or infallible because of his faith. To Reverend Rice's mind, there was only one infallible being, and there was a huge difference between being a Christian and being Christ.

The old Baptist preached of human imperfection and the need to curb one's pride. He warned his congregation to avoid confusing their personal wants and needs with His will. In George's opinion, that sort of confusion had lead to a lot of pain and strife. He warned also against false prophets, those who were confused about God's will and their own, and those who knew that they were using Christianity for their own ends.

Reverend Rice had personal experience with false prophets. They called themselves the Circle of Righteous Fire, and they blindly confused their own fears and prejudices with the will of God. They used their supposed faith as a shield behind which they waged a campaign of genocide. Their victims were also known to the old preacher.

The call to serve had come early to George Rice. He had only been ten when he found the wounded man behind the old tobacco barn. The stranger had begged little George to not reveal his location. He had said that evil men were hunting him and that he couldn't risk going to the hospital. He said that he only needed a couple of hours rest to recover, and then he would leave.

The little boy had never hidden anything from his parents. George knew next to nothing about injuries, but he judged that the burns on the stranger wouldn't heal without a doctor's attention. The child resolved to tell his parents about the injured stranger.

When he reached to house, George found three more strangers talking to his parents. They claimed to be looking for a friend who had wandered off. They said that there had been a car accident and that their friend might be injured and delirious.

Something (to this day, George Rice was certain it had been Divine Revelation) told the boy that these were the evil men that the stranger had spoken of. George told them that he hadn't seen their friend. It was a literal truth, since the child was certain they were far from being the wounded man's friends.

In the intervening years, George had learned much about the Talem Er-Yetha and the C.R.F. He had become a preacher and his home had become a safe house for Yethans needing a place to stay. George saw the Yethans as God's children, made in His image, same as any human. He was certain that if they were otherwise, God would let him know.

Anthony Marcetti had come to see Reverend Rice two days before the big rainstorm hit. The Yethan had told his human friend that Jason Bryant was on his way to the area, that the boy hadn't murdered his family and the others, and that he was a Yethan. Anthony had asked his friend to prepare the hidden cellar for two guests. George had agreed at once.

On the morning after the storm ended, Reverend Rice received another call from Mr. Marcetti. He had the Bryant siblings and was on his way. The flood water was receding, but it was still necessary to find a way across a number of rain swollen creeks. The preacher informed his friend that the cellar was ready. After he hung up, George prayed that they would have a safe journey.

The local and State police searched the park for several hours. After the last load of police was carried in, the helicopter joined the search for Jason Bryant. They found no trace of their quarry, but they did find four corpses and the scattered remains of at least one more. Once James Yancy was quite certain that they wouldn't be finding Bryant in the sealed area, He allowed the forensic specialists that the State police had provided, to begin examining the crime scene. Yancy returned to the camping area to find Agent Butler sitting under the picnic shelter with his laptop.

Everyone (Yancy included) that had taken part in the search of the park was soaked, cold and muddy; everyone, except Robert Butler. The saturnine agent's shoes were covered in mud of course, but his suit was clean and dry. James wondered if his partner was a mountain goat in disguise.

"If Bryant is hiding in this park, I'll eat my socks." Yancy said as he sat down opposite his partner. Agent Butler offered a noncommittal grunt and continued to devote his attention to the computer screen. "You're not downloading pornography are you?" Yancy asked, wondering if he could get Butler's eyes to bug out. Disappointingly, Agent Butler continued to frown at the screen.

"No, but the blood test results I just received are quite fascinating enough." Butler answered. "The blood our colleagues in Mississippi thought to be from a cat is in fact more nearly reptilian."

"Reptilian?" Yancy asked. "Like from an iguana or snake?"

"I am requesting that they send a DNA sample to the Museum of Natural History in Washington. Whatever was injured was quite large and lost a sizable quantity of blood."

"So," Yancy wasn't sure why his partner was so focused on something that seemed so trivial. But then, Robert had cracked a kidnapping case with an empty floor cleaner bottle... "a gator maybe?"

The clicking of keys continued as Agent Butler entered his request. He didn't look up from his screen as he responded to his partner's question.

"That would seem to be the only indigenous reptile of the required size. Of course, one would expect someone to notice an alligator in the middle of town, during their equivalent of rush hour." Butler finished his Email and brought up another file. "This is not the only noteworthy discrepancy in the data we have. Someone forced Dr Blanchard's back door while she was conversing with another perpetrator at her front door."

"So, Bryant distracted her while an accomplice snuck up behind her?"

"He would seem the most logical one to act as the decoy, but why didn't the doctor let her patient and friend into her house? Whoever came in by way of the front door, forced their way into the house. The damage to the door handle and the wainscoting bear this out. The manner of the doctor's death was somehow familiar, so I sent an inquiry to our database."

"You think that this MO has been used before?"

"Yes. I had to refresh my memory, but a similar case occurred in 1957. Three people were found hanged in their homes. Nothing was stolen, and all three had three dollars worth of mercury dimes below them. The FBI became involved because one of the people so killed was a commander in the navy."

"1957?" James Yancy was often amazed by the sort of things Butler might retrieve from his apparently limitless memory. "How could you know about a case from 1957? Why would the amount of money be different? Was the killer ever caught?"

"I came across the case while studying in the library at the academy. The value of the coins is different, but not their number. In both cases, thirty coins were left. And no, no one was ever charged for the three deaths in 1957. If one of the victims had not been in the navy, I doubt that the FBI would have been involved. I've initiated searches of the crime databases of some major cities and our Interpol partners. I've also contacted the paper in the town where the '57 murders took place to find if any acts of arson were committed at about the same time."

"It doesn't seem very likely that Jason Bryant could have killed those people thirty years before he was born, does it?" Yancy wondered what this new information meant. He was certain that Officer Marcetti wasn't human. It seemed likely that Bryant wasn't human either. 'How many of these things are there?' James wondered. 'How long have they been murdering people?'

"I don't see how he could." Butler answered his question. "There are two possibilities. One, Jason Bryant is the member of some sort of cult that is remarkably careful to remain secret; perhaps they recruit along family lines, and goes on a murderous rampage from time to time. Two, he is not the member of this cult, but one of its targets. The second possibility seems the more likely. If the cult probably recruits from within families, it would make little sense to kill off fellow cultists."

"But what if they betrayed the cult, or were thinking of leaving?" Agent Yancy asked. "Might not the cult seek to eliminate them?"

"Do you hypothesize Jason Bryant as loyal to his family or the cult?"

"The cult."

"This seems unlikely." Butler answered calmly. "If they considered Jason a valuable member of their organization, they would have arranged for him to have an alibi for the time of his family's deaths. If they considered him expendable, they would not have risked an assault on the jail."

"What if he was going to defect with his family?"

"Then he would have told the police about the cult after they murdered his family. After that, he would have no loyalty to them, and ample reason to wish to see them punished. I suspect that the cult we are looking for are selective about their targets. This would explain why they do not strike more often. I further suspect that their chosen victims know that they are being hunted, but for some reason, they are unwilling to ask for help from legal authorities."

Pieces began to fall into place for James Yancy. The dead on the side of this mountain had been heavily armed. One of them had carried the same incendiary ammunition that had been used on the police and on the Bryant family. The SUV (rented of course) had carried a small arsenal.

They were all dead now. They had not come to aid Jason Bryant, but to kill him. Yancy shuddered involuntary. Five armed men, hunting one unarmed boy, and he had killed them all. The G-man was certain that Bryant had been unarmed, because he had used the killers own weapons to dispatch them. 'They must have caught his family sleeping, if they were anything like their son.'

The last shred of reasonable doubt disappeared from Yancy's mind. The agent hoped that he wasn't casting off reason as well. Jason Bryant wasn't, couldn't be, human. His family wasn't human, and the hunters burned them. They burned the Drapers also, but not Dr. Blanchard. 'Why not burn the doctor? Why leave thirty coins at her feet? Thirty coins... thirty coins... my God!'

"Mercury dimes and Buffalo nickels contain fair amounts of silver." Yancy whispered urgently to his partner. "Judas was paid thirty pieces of silver for his betrayal of Jesus!"

Robert looked blank for a moment. Bible studies were not his strong suite. Then light dawned.

"The hanging and the coins were a traitor's payment. Could she have been a member of the cult? Could she have warned the Bryants and Drapers? If so, why were they not prepared for the coming attack?"

"I don't think she was that sort of traitor." Yancy was reluctant to speak of his suspicions to anyone, but he felt that he could trust his partner. "She was a doctor. She was the family doctor for both the Bryants and the Drapers. If there were any medical abnormalities that they wanted hidden, she would be the one to hide them."

Agent Butler looked up from his laptop. He almost spoke, but the look on Yancy's face said he wanted to continue.

"I think that the three perpetrators who attacked downtown Putnam were after Jason Bryant. I think that at least one of them managed to wound him before he escaped. I think that he killed the John Doe with his bare hands."

Butler was stunned to hear his partner agree with the coroner from Clay County. The two had never spoken, and yet they both held the same impossible theory about how the man had been killed. Even more surprising was the assertion that Bryant had been wounded.

"How can you think that Bryant was wounded? We found no evidence to suggest that."

"Yes we did. We were just talking about the blood that you found."

"But that wasn't human blood..." Agent Butler's voice trailed off when he saw the look on his partner's face.

"His family always went to the same doctor. They couldn't ask the police for help because they would have to explain why they were being hunted. What were they hiding? How did one boy kill five well armed assassins? If you have a better theory I'd love to hear it."

"I have no better theory." Robert Butler admitted reluctantly. "But, if your theory is correct, how are we to proceed?"

"We find it. If it surrenders, we take it alive. Otherwise, we shoot to kill. It's proven how dangerous it is, so there can be no warnings or hesitation. Then we have our own doctors examine it. Once we have proof that we can show to the government, we can start hunting these things down."

"Hunt them down? Why?" Butler asked. "I agree that Jason Bryant must be brought in, though I expect that no charges will be filed in this case as he clearly acted in self defense. As to revealing the existence of these... others, I am not aware of any proof that they are a threat to the United States, and I can think of no better way to set off a new witch hunt."

"They're not human Bob! Just one of them killed five armed humans last night. They can't be allowed to go free. They're too dangerous!"

"I suspect that if someone killed your family and then tried to kill you, that you would be just as dangerous. Should you be allowed to go free?"

"I'm not free am I?" Yancy answered, growing angry. "I am dangerous because of my training and authority, given to me by the government to serve its ends. I cannot exercise my power without its sanction. These creatures must also be accountable."

"So all of them, even their children must be bound in service to the government? You would want your family to be so treated?"

"They aren't my family damn it! They're different..."

"Exactly." Butler interrupted. "They aren't like us. What does it matter how they are treated? Besides, we are going to control them for their own good. They can't be expected to look after themselves, and one can never no what mischief they will get into." In the years that he had known Robert Butler, Yancy had seldom heard real anger in his voice. "They aren't just less intelligent than we; they also lack our moral fiber. Of course, being stupid and amoral, many of them will be ungrateful enough to refuse our benign stewardship. Those have to die so that they can't harm themselves and others." Butler's face was now as red as his hair. "We can't let them rape our daughters can we? We can't allow them to pollute our blood!"

"What are you talking about?" James asked, concerned by his partner's uncharacteristic rage.

"I'm talking about slavery Jim! I'm talking about prejudice, and hate and genocide! I'm talking about all the terrible things that humans do to each other because of differences in the way they look, or sound, or worship, or live, or think! I'm talking about the darkest, vilest part of human nature. I never thought that I would have to have such a talk with you!"

Joshua Remington had returned home after the police had moved their search east. He resumed his job as a high school English teacher, telling his students and co-workers that he had suffered a rafting accident. He was at his desk, eating lunch when he received the call from his contact to the Circle. His father and four other hunters had fallen. The two demons still lived. There were other things that the contact tried to tell him, but Joshua was beyond hearing. His mother had to be told, and he had to be the one to tell her. It would be a bitter thing to swallow, and she deserved to hear from family. Then, there would be hell to pay.

Job Taylor was the senior hunter on site after Isaac Remington's death. He knew that his quarry was in the area of Marion. He requested reinforcements, but with eight hunters dead, manpower was being stretched as it was. A contingent of hunters was being prepared in Europe, but it would take time to prepare their false papers and make other arraignments. For the time being, he had himself and nine others.

Orders from the Council had become ambiguous. Job was to 'exterminate the two survivors of the Bryant-Draper pack'. He was also to 'be cautious and circumspect of the unenlightened to avoid revelation of the Circle's existence'. With the area swarming with State police and the National Guard, it would be difficult to find the demons before the civil authorities did.

Even if he did find them first, gunfire would quickly draw the wrong kind of attention. Taylor didn't look forward to engaging the demons in hand-to-hand combat. He expected that the other hunters felt the same way, but like him, they would do as the Council bade them.

Unlike his predecessor, Taylor didn't divide his remaining force into five man search units. They were concentrated in one group. Their cover story was that they were volunteers come to help the flood victims. In a way, it was the truth, since Job intended to help them by removing the monsters in their midst.

Taylor's little command passed through Marion, heading southwest on Highway 11. The male beast had been heading north and east since he left Mississippi, and Job expected that the police would concentrate their search in those directions. The hunters knew that he had come here to meet his sister at the park. The beasts had no further reason to go northeast, and a better chance of dodging the police by going southwest.

Mudslides and high water forced Anthony Marcetti to drive southwest. The fact that Rural Retreat was to the east didn't matter. He imagined that his two passengers were very uncomfortable in the bed of his truck, under a wet tarp, but there was nothing he could do to shorten the trip. He would have to loop through Chilhowie and back through Marion to find a road to Rural Retreat that was drivable. He hoped that they hadn't thought to set up road blocks. If they had, Anthony couldn't think of a way to dodge them.

"Hang on back there!" he called to his passengers. "We'll be through Chilhowie in a couple of minutes. After that, it's a straight drive to Rural Retreat!"

"Thank you Mr. Marcetti!" the two siblings answered. Being Yethan, they didn't have to worry about pneumonia, but bouncing around in the back of a pickup truck with a cold, wet tarp for concealment was far from comfortable. Jason and Gwen would never complain. They were thankful for the aid. That being said, they hoped they might leave the safe house by some other (more comfortable) means of transport.

Edward Marcetti was thankful to be out of the search for Jason Bryant and away from Agent Yancy. The FBI agent's eyes had stayed on Eddie from the moment they met to the second he left line of sight. Agent Yancy was one of those humans who could sense Yethans. The agent probably wasn't conscious of why he was on edge around officer Marcetti, but he kept his gun hand free and near his holster so long as Eddie was nearby. The Yethan police officer had half expected to get shot by the jumpy G-man.

Compared to that ordeal, working the road block southwest of Marion was a welcome treat. Officer Marcetti was manning the roadblock with two State troopers (there just weren't enough Smyth County police to man all of the road blocks). Except for rescue workers, police and the National Guard, traffic was nonexistent. That suited Eddie Marcetti just fine. He could stand a quiet afternoon after the morning that he had had.

An old Chevy Citation roared up Interstate 81, through Bristol Tennessee and across the State line, into Bristol Virginia. The radio was tuned to a news broadcast. Jason Bryant was the subject of discussion. He had been reported in the Hungry Mother State Park. The driver had guessed that he would go there, but not that the police and C.R.F. would guess the same.

The old engine protested the effort it was being forced to make. Except for stops to refuel, the rusty Citation had been traveling non-stop from Mississippi. The driver just pushed that much harder. Time was of the essence. The possibility of being late was not to be considered.

The driver of the Citation was unaware of the Jeep Cherokee that followed, just as the driver of the jeep was unaware of the Citation. Both vehicles were from Mississippi, though the jeep had started later and had a shorter distance to go. The driver of the jeep was also pushing his vehicle to its limits. The jeep's passenger was very anxious to reach Marion Virginia as quickly as was humanly possible.

They were three people in two vehicles with one mission. Nothing short of death would stay them from their task. They did not know that they would find death very near their goal.

The confrontation with Agent Butler had made Yancy realize just how big of an ass he was being. The G-man had never imagined that he was capable of such blind fear and hate. His partner had helped him to see the light, and James had apologized and thanked Robert Butler. He had further pointed out that if he, a well educated and level headed federal agent, could be overwhelmed by the revelation of this nonhuman race, most people would be affected in the same manner.

Butler and Yancy agreed that Jason could not have killed his family. They agreed also that he and his sister must never be taken into custody. The chance of their true nature being revealed was too great. Butler would see to the destruction of the blood sample and all related data, and he and Yancy would hunt down the true culprits. First, they needed to find the Bryant siblings and get them to safety. Fortunately, James Yancy knew someone who could tell them where the Bryants were. He found out where Officer Marcetti was, caught a helicopter ride back to Marion, and set off for the roadblock southwest of town.

As Anthony Marcetti neared Marion, he saw that there was indeed a roadblock to contend with. He briefly considered the desperate course of turning (sure to look suspicious) and running the other way. Then, he saw his son was one of the police manning the roadblock. The elder Marcetti breathed a sigh of relief.

Eddie recognized his father's blue pickup coming up the road. He knew that his dad was transporting the Bryants. The officer put on his best 'innocent smile' and turned to tell the State troopers to let his father pass. His blood froze and his smile slipped before he could speak.

Officer Marcetti saw a dark sedan with, government plates, approaching from the other direction. It was behind a group of five SUVs, but Eddie had a strong suspicion about who was driving it. The car moved to go around the column of 4x4s, and the police officer's fear was horribly confirmed.

Trooper Rodger MacGregor saw the smile slip from Officer Marcetti's face. He looked over his shoulder to see Trooper Walsh stopping a dark blue sedan. Rodger reckoned the two men in the car to be the FBI agents that were working the crime scene in Marion.

"Trooper MacGregor." Rodger turned back to Officer Marcetti. He thought that the local policeman's voice sounded odd, but he forgot this when his eyes met those of Edward Marcetti. "You will let the blue pickup pass." Eddie ordered the State trooper. "Don't bother with anything else until you let the blue pickup through." The younger Marcetti felt his throat going sore with the desperate effort to influence the trooper.

"Yes." MacGregor answered. He felt dizzy and numb. 'Maybe I should ask to be relieved.' Rodger thought. 'First, I have to let the blue pickup pass.'

James Yancy was showing his ID to the State police officer when Butler poked him in the ribs.

"The five vehicles we just passed have the same rental agency plaques as the one in the park!" Robert's voice was an anxious whisper.

"Oh shit!" Yancy's response was short and to the point, but it would never make it into a book of quotes.

The Circle knew about the mind controlling ability of the demons. They knew that it was largely dependent on the use of ultra and infra sonic waves that the monsters could produce with their vocal cords. The Circle's few technicians had developed a device for detecting those sound waves. One such device was in the second SUV. Its alarm activated, and its pointer aimed at the police manning the roadblock.

"It's a trap!" Jack Garrison shouted.

Anthony Marcetti was worried again. The State trooper was waving him through, but even with the engine running and the distance between himself and his son, Anthony had heard the hypnotic vibrations in his son's voice. The Yethan didn't know what had caused his son to use the power so forcefully, but he saw Eddie moving to intercept the sedan that had just pulled around the traffic coming from Marion. He figured that the sedan was the threat and that Eddie was trying to buy him some time to get away. Mr. Marcetti angled to pass around the dark blue car, even if he had to go onto the shoulder to do it. There was a large ditch beside the road, but Anthony judged that he had room enough to avoid it.

Edward Marcetti was walking toward the FBI car when he saw a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. His eyes naturally tracked to it. A man was jumping out of the second 4x4. He had a large pistol in hand, and was shouting something. Eddie was too focused on the pistol to understand what was said. His right hand went to his Glock autopistol. He was a second late on the draw.

Trooper Daniel Walsh heard the shout. He turned to see a pistol aimed at him. The muzzle flash was the last thing Walsh saw in this life.

Yancy heard the shout. Then he saw the State police officer's forehead explode. James threw the car into reverse and stomped the gas. His angle of escape was off, and he ran off of the road and tail first into the huge ditch. The sound of crunching metal and breaking glass accompanied the bone jarring impact. The front of the sedan skidded down the embankment and the car came to rest on its side, half submerged in runoff.

Mr. Marcetti veered right to dodge the blue sedan that seemed to be moving to block him in. Instead, the car went into the ditch, followed closely by Anthony's truck. Mr. Marcetti tried to shout a warning to the kids in back, but there wasn't time before they hit bottom. Only Anthony's seatbelt kept him from being thrown through the windshield. Jason and Gwen were not so restrained, and both were tossed out of the truck bed.

Job heard the shout of "It's a trap!" followed by the gunshot. One of his people had just fired on what appeared to be police. It could be that they were the enemy in disguise. They might also be exactly what they appeared to be. In either case, the die was well and truly cast.

"Son of a..." He began. Job hit his horn three times, sounding the ambush signal. The hunters of the Circle of Righteous Fire sprang forth to do battle.

Eddie saw Trooper Walsh fall. He judged that the time for warnings was past. Officer Marcetti fired three shots. Two hit the gunman in the chest. The third struck the windshield of his SUV.

The killer didn't fall, but turned to fire at Eddie. The man's passenger took position behind the SUV and took aim at Eddie with a stubby looking gun. Several more gunmen boiled out of the remaining off road vehicles.

"Oh shit!" Eddie Marcetti spoke what was quickly becoming the battle cry of law enforcement in Smyth County. He fired wildly as he retreated toward his patrol car. Two pistol bullets hit Eddie before he could take cover. One was stopped by his Kevlar vest; the other struck his upper left arm.

Trooper MacGregor opened the trunk of his patrol car and retrieved the M-14 rifle and ammo stored there. Officer Marcetti dove over the hood of Rodger's car and took cover behind it. There was blood on his shirt sleeve.

"You're hit!" MacGregor shouted.

"I've hurt m'self worse shavin'." Eddie replied as he slipped a fresh magazine into his pistol. "You don't have another of those by any chance?" He asked, pointing at the rifle.

"No Eddie, sorry. I have a shotgun."

"That'll do." Eddie said with a smile. "Keep me covered and I'll get it."

Something grabbed James Yancy's shirt front and pulled until his head was above the muddy water. He had nearly drowned and was barely aware of his partner floating above him like a sullen angle. 'Must be the Angel of Death.' Yancy thought.

Robert Butler was hung up in his safety belt. He held his partner's head above water with his right hand and cut at Yancy's seat belt with his left.

"Jim! Are you in pain?" Butler asked his partner urgently. "Do you think anything may be broken?" Agent Yancy struggled to focus on the Questions.

"The back of my head hurts, and I think I swallowed some mud, but other than that, I'm okay."

Both Agents heard the screech of bending metal and looked up to see the passenger side door torn from its frame. There was a splash as the door landed behind the car. Then a soaking wet youth appeared in the opening. His ebon hair was plastered down with water and his pale face wore an expression of intense worry. James looked into the boy's blue-gray eyes and saw the same strangeness that he had seen in Officer Marcetti.

"Are y'all okay?" Jason asked. "Can I be any help?"

"Yes to both." The red haired man answered with more calm than Jason would have felt in his position. "Let me finish cutting Yancy loose. Then you can help me lift him out."