Chapter 8: 8: The Goon Squad

As soon as the vehicles had screeched to a halt, soldiers spilled out.

Victoria had mentioned a government organisation called ‘Section 13’ that had been heading in this direction. Unless there was a third organisation in play, which seemed unlikely, I figured this was them.

Unlike Victoria’s crew, who’d worn grey, white and black camouflage, this lot were dressed in all black and were carrying a range of assault rifles, pistols and sniper rifles. They were kitted out not for capture and detain, but for shoot to kill.

From the Jeep’s loudspeakers, the man’s voice spoke again. He had a Scottish accent and spoke in clipped, no-nonsense military tones. We shielded our eyes from the glaring headlights, trying to make out what was going on.

“You five civilians, stay right there. This is a matter of national security, and I assure you, any sudden movements will result in us opening fire without hesitation.”

None of us moved an inch.

We were too overawed by the sudden display of military muscle, the blinding lights and the threat of instant death. Dee swore quietly under his breath, a panicked look on his face.

“Be calm,” Mr Andrews said. “I’m sure this will be fine. It will all be fine.”

I wasn’t convinced. Neither, judging by the quivering in his voice, was he.

“Alpha, Beta, Gamma squads,” the Scottish voice continued, his clipped voice rattling the orders off with a machine gun staccato. “Cordon the building off and search it from top to bottom. Teams of three, no less. Delta squad: Detain the five civilians. Sharpshooters on the roof. Standing orders are: Terminate the USE on sight with extreme prejudice. Minimise loss of civilian life where possible, prioritise termination if in doubt. Repeat: Collateral damage is acceptable. The priority is total effective neutralisation of the USE. Co-ordinate through the operations van.”

He pronounced ‘USE’ “You-Ess-Eee” - clearly some kind of acronym, but I had no idea what it stood for. I presumed he was talking about the creature that had attacked me.

Within seconds, soldiers had surrounded and trained their weapons on us.

Their faces were expressionless masks as they focussed on the task at hand. They displayed no regard for the fact they were pointing their weapons at a group of teenagers and a schoolteacher.

“What the actual hell?” Jess breathed out.

“What did I tell you?” Forrest muttered, “Military.”

“Not the time, Forrest,” I shot back. “Really not the time.”

I clenched my fists without even realising I was doing it.

The adrenaline and power had returned to my body as swiftly as it had left. I tried to calm myself and push the fire back down. Fear, anger and stress all acted as triggers, getting me ready to swing punches and jump in. This was despite having no clue how to fight. On top of which, this clearly this wasn’t a situation to punch my way out of. Yet some reckless part of me wanted to throw myself at the assembled soldiers, regardless.

Self preservation and common sense won out, however.

Those were real guns being pointed at us, held by men dressed all in black who had promised to use them. Doing nothing was the only option if I didn’t want to get shot.

All around us, the soldiers were spreading out, some of them reeling out blue and white striped “Police line, Do Not Cross” tape. This was despite the fact that there wasn’t an officer in sight.

Finally, Mr Andrews, his hands held up like all of us, took a step forward to confront the soldiers.

“What the hell is the meaning of this? I demand to speak to whoever is in charge here. You can’t just take over my school and wave guns around wherever you feel like it. This isn’t America, for god’s sake!”

To Mr Andrews’ credit, he used his very best his "school teacher in charge” voice, despite the overwhelming show of force. If it had been a classroom, every single pupil would have frozen on the spot.

He also did as good a job as possible of shielding the four of us, indicating that we should group up behind him with a wave of his arms.

He was alright, was Mr Andrews.

Someone directed the floodlights away from us to scan the rest of the grounds, leaving us able to see what was going on.

The man who’d spoken on the tannoy got out of the Jeep and marched towards us.

He was a bald, short guy, with a fierce demeanour. His shoulders were broad, and he had the stance and moves of a professional boxer. He also had one of the most extravagant moustaches I’d seen in a long time. A salt and pepper handlebar deal that mutton-chopped its way up to his ears.

“Give my regards to the moustache,” Victoria had said.

Odds on, she’d meant this guy.

He stepped through the ring of soldiers, swiftly sized us all up with eyes like grey bullets.

He waved a hand at the soldiers and they half-lowered their weapons.

“Have you seen or had any contact with the animal?” he asked us.

“Animal?” Jess said, “That was not an animal.”

“It was an escaped animal,” the moustache said, “And you’ll all be signing documents in triplicate which agree to that.”

“Now hang on a minute,” Mr Andrews started, “I demand to know what the hell is going on here. Who are you? What gives you the right to start throwing your weight around? This is school property, these are kids, you can’t just…”

His voice wavered and then tapered off entirely as the other man’s pale grey eyes locked onto his.

The moustache stalked towards Mr Andrews.

He stood four inches shorter than the tall headmaster. That didn’t stop the sense that he was far more powerful in every sense than the gangly Mr Andrews. The guy didn’t say anything in response to Mr Andrew’s protests. Not a word.

Instead, he just stared straight into Mr Andrew’s eyes. Unblinking. Unmoving. No expression on his face whatsoever.

I wasn’t on the receiving end of that stare and even I was terrified by it.

Mr Andrews wilted under the icy stare within seconds. Any will to resist or protest drained out of him.

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“Good,” the moustache snapped, seeing that he’d got the result he desired. “That’s that sorted. Who are you?”

“I’m…I’m the headmaster here, I…”

The moustache flicked an impatient hand and snapped his fingers, stopping Mr Andrews from saying anything else.

“I’ll need to use some of your classrooms for debriefing the five of you. Is there anyone else on site?”

“Not...not that I know of,” Mr Andrews said, stumbling over his words.

“Fine. Now, I repeat my first question: Have any of you seen or had any contact with the animal?” the man said. “I won’t ask a third time.”

I’m still not sure why I stepped forward.

Partly I wanted these men to stop pointing their guns at my friends. More than that, though, to my mind, this was another lead in the mystery that this night had turned into. Anyone connected to the monster was another piece of the puzzle connected to my own powers. Whoever these men were, they were clued up about the monster that had attacked me. So they might have answers. I’d already lost one lead when Victoria Pryce had flown away. As terrifying as the situation was, I also realised it might furnish me with answers.

My thinking also went that this group was government. They looked and felt more official than Victoria’s entourage and had stated this was a military operation. Therefore, they were here to help, and they wouldn’t shoot civilians. The earlier statements had just been a show of force, used to make sure that we stayed put. They had no actual intention of killing us. Why would they?

If I’d known how close I came to a bullet in my head, I’d have kept my firmly mouth shut.

Instead, I piped up.

“It chased me. No-one else.”

The moustache glanced at me.

“And you lived to tell the tale,” he said. He whistled, “Lucky man.”

The moustache’s tone was somewhere between hostile disbelief and outright sarcasm.

“Did it make contact with any of you?” he snapped.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second.

The Scottish guy stared at me, his eyes boring into the back of my skull, daring me to lie. Like Mr Andrews, the will to resist drained out of me.

I opened the cloak to show the bloodied bandages beneath my ripped shirt.

“It scratched me. Only slightly, though.”

The moustache nodded.

“I want this one quarantined. Take the other four and secure them in a classroom. Mobiles confiscated, no-one in or out without my say so. Get the doctor here and keep looking for that thing.”

“Quarantined?” Jess said, her voice on the edge of outrage.

The moustache shot her a quick, no-nonsense look. Jess wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Dee kept his mouth shut for a change. Forrest on the other hand, was having none of it.

“You can’t do that!” he said, “Mr Andrews, tell him!”

Mr Andrews shook his head. “Better to do as they say.”

Forrest muttered something about fascist states, civil rights and the persecution of minorities, but gave up.

“The rest of you, keep looking for the creature. Shoot on sight.”

“You won’t find it,” I said. “It’s gone.”

The moustache, who I later learned was called Major Wilson, rounded on me.

“Gone?”

I’d already put myself on his radar. Something told me I’d better tell him everything. Up to a point, at any rate.

“Some men showed up in helicopters, soldier types. They captured the thing as it was chasing me. Then they flew away with it. I’d be dead if it weren’t for them.”

Major Wilson grunted, “As I said. Lucky man.”

He considered, and then he snapped his fingers at me

“You. With me. Corporal, process the other four as usual. I want to hear this one’s story first hand.”

“Hang on!” Dee protested.

“Do as he says,” Mr Andrews repeated.

Dee looked upset. Jess and Forrest didn’t look any happier about it, but there was nothing any of us could do.

As the soldiers escorted everyone else back into the school building, I was taken to a separate classroom by Major Wilson and two soldiers.

You idiot Ethan, I thought, what have you got yourself into now?

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