Hybrid Killers

By Will Decker

When John, a well renowned novelist, loses his only daughter, a young woman in the prime of her life to a freaky accident while attending a rock concert, it's more than he can emotionally handle. In a move to get away from the pain and end his suffering in private, he books a sabatical in the high, desolate mountains. What he discovers there in addition to the solitude he seeks is a beautiful woman trying to deal with her own despair. A spark instantly flares between them, connecting them on some base level. They draw strength from each other, and possibly even love. With new reasons to carry on, he decides that he isn't ready to die after all. In fact, he is looking forward to future for the first time in a long time. Yet, other forces have already determined his fate, and they're not ready to let him go. Now it will take all of his strength and endurance just to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Will Decker
• Release date: Mar 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458141156

Will Decker

Hello,There have been some dramatic changes going on in my life and because of them I am finding that I now have more available time. Yeah, that's a laugh. Now it seems like my days are even more hectic than they were before. Hence, I have decided instead of using the narrow sighted approach to marketing my books, I am going to use a much simpler approach. No longer will my books be available through Amazon markets, but instead, my plan is to make them all available through the Smashwords site as well as their affiliated markets for FREE. However, this will take time so if you have read any of my books and are looking to read more of them, bear with me, I promise you they are coming. I hope this works for my dedicated (few) readers. On a different topic, as you can see, most of my writing efforts have been serials.With that said, you will never find a Cliff Hanger amongst my works. All of the stories have beginnings and endings and can stand on their own. Their common thread might be the characters and in some cases, the planet, but all are Stand-Alone novels! I really despise Cliff Hangers with a passion. Can you tell?Thanks for taking the time to get to know me a little better, WillHope you have a great day.Sincerely, Will Decker

Book preview

HYBRID KILLERS

Will Decker

Copyright 1996 by WILL DECKER

Smashwords Edition

WILL DECKER has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased, or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

HYBRID KILLERS is a work of fiction. The resemblance of any characters to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, media, situations, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

A special thank you to everyone that has made this story possible. My beta reader, my proof reader, and to you the readers. I sincerely hope you enjoy this work of fiction.

Will

Discover other fantastic books by WILL DECKER:

DRIVEN

UNREQUITED LOVE

FIRE BABY

The ‘HEÄLF’ Collection:

MORTALITY REVISITED

CLONE WARS

DAY OF NIGHT

REGENERATIONS

HORSPAW

The ‘Mac" Collection:

THE WITNESS

TOXIC RAIN

BETRAYAL

RECORD KEEPER

DEATH IN THE DUNES

WITSEC FAIL

SIMPLY PERFECT BINDING 2ND Ed.

Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

More by Will Decker

**1**

The disembarking Station

I hope you understand and can appreciate the fact that I’m only letting you have this lease for such a low price because the last tenants had to leave prematurely, said the short, rat-faced man. And then whined on in his irritating voice, Next year, of course, if you decide to stay on, I’ll have to charge the going rate plus any increases that the damn government imposes on me for the privilege of being the landlord.

Of course, I totally understand, I impatiently acknowledged, intentionally sounding gruffer and more impatient than the circumstances really called for. My patience was wearing thin with both him and his equally irritating wife. You’ve only reminded me a dozen times already! I hesitated a moment before adding, Just make sure my supplies are brought up on schedule; you don’t want me hiking back down here on foot just to see what the problem might be.

I gave them both a good hard stare, dispelling any doubt to my sincerity. When they quickly averted their eyes from my fiery gaze, I casually mentioned, By the way, you never did tell me why the former occupants had to leave in such a hurry.

For reasons I couldn’t comprehend, I sincerely doubted if I would get an honest answer from them.

Death in the family, the woman hurriedly blurted, while her husband only looked away with a nervous twitch.

They both seemed overly anxious to get rid of me, now that they had my money for the balance of the year. But I wasn’t surprised. I suspected that they feared more questions might be forthcoming; questions that, judging by their nervous hesitancy to answer, they didn’t want the answers to be known.

Yet, the feelings didn’t make any sense to me, considering the circumstances. We were, after all, in a desolate mountain cabin located just below the tree line. By a city boy’s estimation, we were a long ways from civilization.

The cabin doubled as their home and office, though it didn’t resemble any office I’d ever frequented before. It also served as base camp for the other cabins that they leased out farther up the snow covered mountain. From this point forward, civilization was what you made of it. And unless you were an experienced mountain survivalist, this was the only way to get up and down the mountain.

But I’m not an experienced mountain survivalist. Like I said before, and I make no bones about it, I’m a city-bred greenhorn. My life’s most traumatic experiences took place within the confines of a well-furnished publisher’s office. Until yesterday, I’d never left the comfort of the city. In fact, until the tragic death of my only child, my teenage daughter, I’d never felt the need for solitude. But all that changed in a fleeting moment of catastrophe, the consequences of which broke my heart beyond repair, steeling the only thing in life worth living for. And now I was here, feeling more uncomfortable of my surroundings by the minute.

Yet, I wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable. Even to an inexperienced eye, which mine weren’t, my questions were clearly making them uncomfortable as well. Could it be they were hiding something?

The cabin that I’d just leased included supplies delivered on a monthly schedule. It was just one in a chain of cabins that stretched along the snow covered tree line for miles upon snow-covered miles; all of which were leased from the federal government while maintained and managed by this man and woman. The couple that lived in this cabin leased the other cabins on an annual basis to people that needed to get away from civilization, for whatever reasons. Most were up here on sabbatical. Why I was up here was yet to be determined. Their terms were cash-in-advance, no exceptions.

The cabins were spaced along the distance between the tree line and the summit at intervals of approximately ten miles. That meant your nearest neighbor, and also your nearest source of help, was at least a ten mile hike across treacherous, unforgiving terrain. Moreover, it was a hike that had to be performed on snowshoes, since only specially licensed vehicles, such as Fred’s, our landlord’s, snow-tractor, were allowed in the pristine wilderness.

Of course, that inconvenience was also a blessing and the main reason for leasing the cabins. The long hike traversing the snowline would seem like a stroll in the park, compared to the much more difficult task of ascending the mountain from below. Your chances of being bothered by anyone for the duration of the year were very slim. The only exception was the landlord, who brought your monthly supplies and maybe a tidbit of news that you might have missed on the short-wave radio, which, to most people that thought they needed a sabbatical, the short-wave radio quickly became the focus of their existence amidst the sparse but adequate furnishings included with the cabin.

Although it wasn’t in my nature to dislike people that I’d hardly met, I neither liked nor trusted these two. Yet, I figured they would get the supplies to me one way or another. Anything less would be criminal, considering the circumstances. And despite their nervous, almost secretive disposition, I honestly didn’t believe they would stoop that low.

A snow tractor was used for delivering both supplies and tenants to and from the cabins. It wasn’t anything like the tractors used on the farms that I’d seen in the Midwest. Instead, it was more like a small cabin with lots of windows mounted over a set of wide tracks. The interior was little more than a bench seat, a heater, and two levers protruding from the floor that were used to steer the contraption.

As I studied the piece of machinery through the dirty cabin window, my new landlord was grumbling about having to leave early in the morning in order to get the other tenants their supplies out to them on time. He went on to complain that my other options were to wait another month, without a refund of course, or to hike in on my own. Neither sounded fitting to my current state of mind, so I told them I would be ready to leave in the morning. Without so much as a by your leave, I headed to the room they’d offered me for the night. In my present state of mind, it almost felt as if they were going to add a surcharge to my lease for the use of it.

I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the tragedy that stole my daughter’s life and tonight wasn’t proving to be any different. The thin mountain air wasn’t having the desired effect on my insomnia that I’d hoped it would. Maybe when we got up a little higher where the cabin was situated, that will change. Of course, once I got to the cabin, there would be no backing out. If I was going to reconsider, I needed to do it soon, while I could still opt out. Chances are, I wouldn’t get any of my money back, but that was the least of my concerns; I would gladly have emptied my bank accounts for just a small piece of sanity, and considered it well worth the price. Right now, I’d consider the life of a pauper, if it granted me a decent night’s sleep!

From the makeshift bed that they had set up for me, rather than cart me back to town and then have to retrieve me in a few hours, I could hear their constant arguing. The sound of their voices carried through the thin walls of the cabin, even though they were trying hard to keep them down.

They were busy most of the night getting the tractor loaded with supplies, which meant a lot of coming and going from the cabin. And yet, they continued to argue the whole time. I couldn’t distinguish their actual words, but I could distinguish the tone of them, and they weren’t being very nice to each other.

As I tried to ignore them and fought off the demons that haunted me, I tossed and turned in the strange bed the whole night. Every time my mind would drift into the darker shadows, and sleep began to creep toward me, I would find myself going back in time. Back to that time when I still had a daughter. The memory of her would be fresh and untainted, her face, bright and lively. She was a beautiful girl; she’d been, a beautiful girl.

But as always, the inevitable happened, and I would find myself reliving the nightmare. Over and over, night after night, it came back to haunt me. It wasn’t my fault. I knew that. I didn’t need any fancy shrink charging me exorbitant hourly rates to tell me that. But it didn’t make it any easier to live with the fact that I had let her go out on her own.

Sure, it’s easy to say that you have to give your child freedom; that they need to live and experience life on their own or they’ll never grow up to be strong and independent people that make you proud to be their parent. But what of the ones that aren’t strong enough to handle that freedom? What becomes of them?

Unfortunately, I discovered that the weak really do perish, and the strong do survive. My poor Amy just never was that strong and she perished, crushed beneath the onslaught of the stronger. Sometimes, I hear her painful cries for help, and the panic and terror on her face is visible through the hazy cloud of sleep. But though she cries my name in her moment of anguish, there is nothing I can do for her. Terrified for her, I reach out in the darkness, but she always slips away, just beyond my grasp.

I wasn’t there at the time of her demise, but the doctors said it’s normal for the mind to fabricate the images as I imagined them to have happened. They claim this is just another way for my subconscious to deal with the trauma. However, I think it’s just another form of mental regression.

That’s why I’m here. I came to this mountain and the solitude it had to offer so that I could think, and to push my thoughts to the limits. My plan was nothing short of a drug addict quitting his habit cold turkey. Against my shrink’s better judgment, I’m here. Without the support system of the hospitals and doctors so readily available in the city, I will have to live through my anguish. When help isn’t so close at hand, I will be forced to deal with it on a level that I’d previously been unable to attain, or wind up permanently and irreversibly insane.

If my idea didn’t work, I wouldn’t be able to run to the doctor or a pharmacy and refill my anti-depressant prescription, and I didn’t bring any medication with me. I was either going to work this thing through to its ultimate end, or finish it once and for all. It was an all or nothing situation. Weak or strong, I had to know. Even if I can’t ever know whether or not it would have made any difference in her outcome if I’d been there for her! I had made up my mind that I was going to find peace up on that mountain, or I wasn’t coming back down from it.

These people gave me a bad feeling, and under different circumstances, I was sure I’d never trust my life in their hands. But the tragedy had shaken me up quite badly and I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I once did. To my own chagrin, it was surprisingly easy to just put the bad feelings aside and ignore them. Besides, I was at a point in my grief where it didn’t seem to matter whether I lived or died. According to the shrink that I’d seen early on, before I grew angry and frustrated with them, this was a natural part of the healing process. What the Hell did they know? Did any of them ever lose a daughter under such tragic circumstances?

Just as I began to wonder if morning would ever come, there was a hard rapping on the heavy plank door. They’d put me in a makeshift closet for the night, and my outer clothes were strung out over the bed where I’d taken them off. In the dim light of the night before, I’d been unable to find any hooks on the walls where I could hang them. But because of the extreme cold outside, I was actually glad for the extra protection they offered over the thinly worn blankets that were on the bed.

Fred, my new landlord, was asking me whether I was still going to head up to the cabin with him or if I’d changed my mind during the night. Before I could summon a reply, he added that there was a fresh pot of coffee on and that the missus was fixing bacon and scrambled eggs, if I were interested. The thought of food almost made me gag on the foul taste that had accumulated in my mouth, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of the coffee.

Swinging my feet out from under the covers, I quickly realized just how cold the room had become. The bare, hardwood floors felt like ice to my stockinged feet. Grabbing my clothes off the bed, I hurriedly pulled them on. They were colder than I’d anticipated and I gasped as my heart missed a beat, but my body quickly adjusted. After pulling a quick comb through my not yet graying, but already thinning hair, I headed out into the main room of the cabin in anticipation of that proffered coffee.

Fred was seated at the long wood-planked table that ran the length of the room. It more closely resembled an old picnic table than any dining room variety that I’d ever seen.

His wife stood in front of an old wood cook stove with her broad back to me as she turned the sizzling bacon in an oversized cast iron skillet. Fred looked up at me with dark circles under his eyes and motioned toward the place across from him where there was a mug of steaming hot coffee waiting. His wife asked without turning around how well done I liked my bacon. The tone of her voice clearly belied the fact that she hadn’t been to bed yet either, and that what I replied wasn’t going to have any effect on how well done, or rare, the bacon was going to be. And since I had neither the courage nor the gumption just yet to tell her that I wasn’t feeling up to breakfast, I instead answered her with, Well done, please.

It dawned on me, of a sudden, that Fred had never mentioned her name to me. True enough, it had never come up. And though the lease agreement held many fine details and explicit instructions, all of which seemed unfairly biased in their favor, nowhere in the paperwork was her name mentioned. Fred had picked me up at the bus depot in town the night before at his insistence nonetheless, and had brought me straight out here. He’d immediately made it clear that if I still wanted to lease the cabin, we needed to get the paper work out of the way that night; we would be leaving first thing in the morning, and there wouldn’t be the time then.

My original plan had been to rent a motel room in town for the night and catch a ride out to their cabin in the morning. Since I still needed to pick up personal items and specific supplies that I didn’t expect my landlord to provide, this made the most sense to me. It was also a big deal in the respect that I might not come back to civilization for close to twelve months; what I took with me could make all the difference between a comfortable stay, and an uncomfortable one. But Fred had adamantly insisted that we head straight to his cabin. He was in such a big hurry, now that I think back on it, that he wouldn’t even stop at the little quick-mark on the edge of town. Without slowing, despite my protests, he shot on past, muttering something about taking care of my shopping needs later, when he brought me back to town. I didn’t think much more about it since the one stop market was a 24-hour place according to the sign hanging over the front entrance.

When we reached the cabin, Fred got right down to business. Primarily, he insisted on getting the money up front. Secondly, he had me sign a pre-filled-out lease agreement. Although I looked it over with interest, my eyes were tired and I wasn’t overly concerned. There were a few other legal documents he presented me with at the same time. Mostly, they consisted of forms releasing them from liability in the case of an accident or some such. One appeared to be an insurance policy, but I’m sure it was just a disclaimer from their fire policy provider. I didn’t really read them over since they looked and appeared to be standard forms. Besides, they provided me with copies that I can peruse at my leisure once I get to my own cabin. After the long bus ride and then the twenty-mile ride from town in his beat up old pickup truck with worn out shocks, I guess I was just a bit more than tired, I was exhausted! Moreover, details of a lease agreement were not a priority on my overly stressed mind.

Somehow or other, introductions went by the way side, and when they offered to put me up for the night, it just seemed like the logical thing was to take them up on it.

After hastily throwing a generous portion of bacon and eggs on a plate, she spun around towards the table and half threw, half dropped the plate in front of me without a word. Keeping her eyes averted, she just as quickly turned back to the stove and busied herself scraping the spatula in the skillet. In the brief glance that I got of her face, I could tell immediately that she hadn’t slept the night before either. Without needing to look into a mirror, I knew that I probably looked worse than even they did; while they could probably remember the last good night of sleep they’d had, I couldn’t.

I drank greedily of the hot coffee, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat the raw bacon and runny eggs on the plate in front of me. Just the thought of them in my stomach made me gag.

Before sitting silent for too long and drawing attention to myself, I made my apologies to her for not eating and excused myself from the table. Her husband, Fred, who hadn’t looked up since I sat down, but had instead just concentrated on his plate without eating either, mumbled something about us leaving in a few minutes and not to wonder very far or he would leave without me.

I’m just going to make sure that I haven’t forgotten anything, I said as I went back into the makeshift bedroom that wasn’t any bigger than most people’s hall closets.

I took the liberty of putting your luggage in the sled last night, he said gruffly, before adding as an afterthought, If you find you need anything special at the cabin, you’ll just have to wait an extra month for it, is all. Providing I can get it for you, that is. It won’t do you any good to request odd stuff.

I’m sure I won’t be in need of any odd stuff that you won’t be bringing on your regular trips, I casually replied.

I had no interest in making conversation with these people, and I didn’t want to give the impression that I was. When they realized that I wanted no more to do with them then they wanted to do with me, the tension in the air dissipated almost immediately. The lifting of the weight felt almost physical in nature. They had my money for the remainder of the year and in exchange, all I wanted was to be left alone with my thoughts in a rural cabin.

Among my personal effects, I had packed away my old typewriter and a ream of twenty-pound paper. I wasn’t sure what had motivated me to do so, since I hadn’t written anything since the tragedy. Several times, I’d found the courage to sit down in front of it, each time thinking that I would make an attempt. I thought that a new book would be the equivalent of a new start. Yet, each time, my thoughts drifted back to Amy, and I would find myself running from them in a cold sweat.

Pulling my nylon snowsuit from the duffel bag that I’d kept separate from the rest of my belongings, I hurriedly stepped into it, anxious for the warmth that the athletic sales clerk had promised. Before zipping it up, I double-checked that everything else was still intact. Everything else, that is, from the used toothbrush that would have to last me another thirty days, to the .357 magnum and its box of related shells. No one mentioned anything about needing a gun up here, so I decided not to mention having one. It just seemed like common sense to me. I’d never been into hunting wild game, or any other wilderness activities, for that matter. I was not a seasoned survivalist! And yet, in the last minutes before leaving the city, it seemed to make perfectly good sense to me that anyone going into the wilderness, especially alone and for an extended period of time, would carry a gun for protection. Maybe I’d just read too many books about cowboys and Indians.

Just a day earlier, before I’d met my new landlords, if someone had asked me if I had one, I wouldn’t have denied it. However, now for some inexplicable reason, I felt better knowing that my landlords weren’t aware of it. I knew what I was feeling was completely irrational, especially since all they had to do was neglect to bring my supplies one month and I would probably die. But there was something about Fred and his wife that gave me an uncharacteristic feeling of mistrust. What exactly it was about them, I couldn’t put my finger on, and that made me even more nervous.

Yet, I was relishing the feelings of nervous anxiety, even if it was my new landlords and not just the anticipation of the forthcoming journey that was causing them. Since Amy’s tragedy, I hadn’t experienced much in the feelings department, as I seemed to be going through life in a numb state of mind.

After checking myself over thoroughly to make sure that I hadn’t missed any of the multitudes of snaps and zippers on the suit, I closed the duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder. I took one more quick look about the room and under the bed, which I immediately regretted, and headed out through the main room for the front door.

I’ll wait for you outside, I said as I passed by the table.

Like I said, don’t wonder off. I’ll be right there, he answered as I closed the door behind me.

If I thought it was cold in their cabin, it was definitely cold outside. The air bit sharply into my lungs, momentarily freezing the moisture in my throat and forcing an involuntary gasp. As I stood still, holding my breath in and waiting for them to adjust to the frigid air, I couldn’t help but notice the scene unfolding before me.

It was magnificent! With the rising sun casting a rainbow glow over the frosted horizon, everything looked fresh and clean. It was the most beautiful sunrise that I’d ever seen as I stood in awe of it. I was momentarily taken aback; for the moment forgetting all about the cold and the ice. In the city, where I’d spent the better part of my life, mornings were drab and dreary; it was considered a good day if it wasn’t raining.

Maybe if I wrote best sellers instead of mid-list books, I could afford a penthouse suite that furnished me with a sunrise view. Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not disappointed with my writing career by any means. Overall, I’ve made a very good living writing mid-list books. If I implied otherwise, it wasn’t what I intended.

Stepping off the open porch that was barely large enough for one person, my boots crunched loudly on the brittle snow as I slowly made my way toward the snow tractor. It was an older model in desperate need of a new paint job. Hitched up to the rear was a cargo sled of comparable condition. Going around to the passenger’s side, I swung the door open and casually threw my bag up on the floor. As I did, I was vaguely aware of dogs barking off in the distance.

The sound had just registered on my consciousness when the cabin door suddenly swung outward. Fred, dressed in a heavy parka with a fur-lined hood, stepped out. In his left hand, he was carrying a small package wrapped in traditional white meatpacking paper. It had all the earmarks of containing raw meat; I could distinguish the blood-soaked edges even in the dim light. Under his other arm, he held a metal thermos that probably contained the left over coffee from this morning’s pot.

Go ahead and climb in, he said when he saw me standing by the open door. I’ll just be a minute.

He walked past the tractor, his boots crunching loudly on the hardened snow, and went down the side of the machinery shed to a small door near the back. After fumbling with a ring full of jingling keys for a minute, he finally found the one he wanted and unlocked the frozen padlock securing the door. Before entering, from a long-formed habit, he looked furtively to the left and then to the right. Suddenly aware that I was watching him, he hurriedly ducked inside, quickly pulling the door shut behind him. He brought to mind visions of a penny-ante burglar about to enter someone else’s premises illegally.

A minute later, he re-emerged and, after stopping to re-secure the padlock, came at a brisk pace towards the tractor. It didn’t escape my attention that he no longer had the small bloody package in his possession. Furthermore, my studious attention made him even more nervous than his usual demeanor.

I thought I told you to get in! he angrily barked at me as he neared the tractor.

Even in the glittery dawn light, I could see how visibly upset I’d made him just by watching him instead of getting into the tractor as he’d instructed earlier. There was no disputing the fact that he was afraid that I might have seen something I wasn’t supposed to. What that could possibly be, I didn’t have a clue. And judging by the way he jumped in and fired up the engine, I knew he wasn’t about to give me any time to think about what I may have or have not seen either.

Before I could even slam the door shut behind me, he’d turned the defroster fan on high. A cold blast of roaring air struck me full in the face, making it impossible to talk. And though it would keep the windows from fogging up, it would remain cold until the engine had time to warm up. Within moments, the draft found its way past the collar on my suit, creating a chill that ran down my spine and setting my teeth to chattering and my body to shivering. The chill quickly settled into my bones, and even though the air slowly grew warm, I couldn’t seem to shake it. I knew now why Fred had the thermos of hot coffee with and even though he could see me shivering, there was no offer forthcoming. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he would just as soon have left me behind, especially if I didn’t demand a full refund.

Although he set off towards the west, he quickly jumped onto an old route that wound back around toward the north, and then slowly angled toward the northeast. Within minutes of having left the cabin, we’d left the distinct rut marks behind and were headed across a broad expanse of flat tundra. At least, it appeared flat to a city boy like me. But in all reality, it gradually sloped upwards toward the mountain peak.

We were crossing at a slight angle to the mountain’s face. Because