THIRTY-SIX

QUEEN’S EYES OPENED and saw nothing but black. She’d been knocked unconscious during the brutally efficient attack. She could see specks of light filtering through holes in the hood over her head. The smell of rotting fish filled her nose with each breath. She wasn’t sure if it was from the hood or her captor’s body—a body she was now inspecting without moving a muscle.

The shoulder beneath her was broad. The gait felt long and the steps were heavy, punishing her stomach with every jolt. The back was interesting—covered in thick hair.

A man, Queen thought.

But something was off. First, there was too much hair. Even the hairiest Italian didn’t sport a back patch that thick. Second was the attack itself. She’d done battle with the best the world had to offer and always came out on top. These guys had not only subdued her, but King as well. Killing them with a firearm would have been impressive enough, but capturing them without firing a single shot—she found it hard to believe possible. Yet here she was, being carted around on the shoulder of a fish-smelling monster of a man. She had infinite respect for the way they’d done it, though. The sheer audacity of attacking armed soldiers with nothing but bare hands had been her solo claim to fame for years. But these guys . . . they made her look bad.

Queen’s competitive nature kicked in. If these guys thought they could beat her at her own game, let them try again. She wouldn’t hide behind a gun next time. That had been her mistake. That’s what allowed them to take her so quickly she never got a chance to see them.

Keeping her body loose like a rag doll, Queen listened. She could hear the footfalls of several others up ahead, but none behind. They were at the back of the pack. Somehow calling them a pack seemed more appropriate. While she recognized the body holding her as part human, its animal quality was hard to ignore. Her mind returned to the village of Anh Dung, remembering the creatures they encountered there. Then the attack on the VPLA camp, the hoots and cries echoing through the forest. Definitely not human. A rare twang of nervousness filled Queen as she considered the idea that they were not dealing with human beings . . . again.

Then one of them spoke and erased her fears. “Hurry. We are far behind.”

The voice was feminine . . . and to the left.

“Father will be pleased with our find,” said the man holding her, his voice deep and strong. “They know our speak.”

Queen came to three very quick conclusions.

First, this was some kind of backwoods tribe.

Second, they must have been fathered by a Vietnam vet who stayed behind and taught them English. That or some Vietcong who learned the language and stayed in the bush after the war ended.

Third, now was the time to strike. She knew there were only two of them present and the others were far ahead.

It was the perfect time to unleash some of that anger stored in her internal batteries—quietly. No need to attract the others’ attention.

Her strike came like a cobra’s. She snapped straight up, shot her hands out, and twisted. The man carrying her managed a “Huh?” before his neck snapped. Big and strong as he was, his bones were still breakable. Queen fell to her feet as the man carrying her slumped to the forest floor. She jerked the hood off of her head and saw a wide mouth ready to scream a warning. She lunged and cupped her hands over the mouth, pinning the smaller body against a tree.

Then Queen hesitated. Beneath a heavy brow, the eyes staring back into hers were young . . . wide, childlike, and fearful. But the face . . . Though feminine, only the eyes, nose, mouth, and upper cheeks lacked hair. Queen frowned. What the hell? This was no doubt a child. A little girl. But she looked like a red-haired version of the X-Men’s Beast on a bad hair day.

She fought like him, too.

The girl knocked Queen’s arms away, then leaped into the air. She took hold of the tree above her and flipped upside down against it. She clung there, looking down at the stunned Queen like a rabid squirrel. The reddish hair that covered her face and head covered portions of her body as well. A long V of hair tapered from her shoulders toward her waist, where a tied rag hung like a loincloth. Her thighs were nearly hairless, but her calves and feet were coated in fur, as were her forearms and triceps. Her biceps and upper torso were lightly covered in hair as well. Her chest, which seemed too ample for a young girl, was clothed in a rag similar to the one tied around her waist. Primal, but modest. She looked more cavegirl than ape . . . or human.

The girl growled and pounced. She landed on Queen’s chest with a surprising weight that knocked her off her feet. The girl jumped away from Queen just after the two hit the ground.

Queen lay still on the forest floor, watching as the ferocious child scaled the trees, leaping from one to the next, and finally disappeared from view high in the canopy.

Quick to her feet, Queen ran, knowing the girl would return with others. She would have liked to inspect the dead male, but couldn’t risk getting caught again. She followed a diagonal course in the same general direction as the girl. She wouldn’t leave King and Pawn behind. Circling around toward the enemy would give her a chance to follow, but would also confuse those trying to track her. They might not expect her to give chase, especially when even the little girl could have killed her. Surprise had allowed her to kill the larger male. She had to be sure surprise remained on her side.

A loud hooting filled the forest. The others were returning.

Queen caught a glimpse of five large males moving through the trees faster than she could run on land. She ducked behind a fallen palm and watched, afraid to move lest she be heard. The five males’ vocalizations reached a crescendo when they discovered their dead counterpart. If Queen were caught again, they would do much more than knock her out. The inhuman shouts continued as the five pounded down the path, back the way they’d come.

Queen smiled. They might be stronger, faster, and more agile than her, but they weren’t the smartest primates in the jungle. Of course, she had no idea how long they would follow the path before realizing Queen had not taken it. They might not be strategists, but they weren’t exactly dopes, either. They could talk, after all.

Not eager to test their IQs, Queen watched the five males vanish into the jungle, then set out after the others. What had started as a noble mission to save the world from some new bioweapon had descended into a dirty fight for survival. First Delta versus VPLA Death Volunteers. Now man versus beast.