Free Alien Hunter (Flynn Carroll) by Whitley Strieber Page A

but the rest of it had been done by the lion.
    The body lay at a twisted angle, its face turned away as if in some eerie excess of modesty. One arm lay across the chest, the other angled backward, obviously broken. Long gouges had reduced his heavy parka to rags that bulged with tufts of white wool insulation. Mike felt in the pockets, soon coming across the familiar shape of an iPhone. Grasping it, he withdrew it and turned it on.
    It took a long time, but finally the opening screen appeared. Charlie didn’t use a password, which was useful but not smart for a man who obviously dealt with a lot of classified material.
    As Flynn pressed the logo of the recorder app, he found himself watching the battery indicator with increasing amazement. The phone got hot, quickly becoming almost painful to hold. He tried to turn it off but it was no use. He watched helplessly as the battery indicator moved across the face of the thing, reducing it in a matter of seconds to a dead, useless brick. Immediately, he pulled out his own cell phone and found it to be hot, also, its battery drained.
    He went to Mike’s shattered remains, dug his fingers into a blood-soaked pants pocket, but did not find his phone. He patted the other pocket. Same result. Had it been lost in the battle that had taken place in here? He shone his light around the room.
    Mike’s jacket was so badly ripped apart that the contents of the pockets had been strewn all over the room. After a few more moments of searching, he found his MindRay under the truck. On the far side of the vehicle was a small black object, which proved to be not his cell phone, but an old Police Special. Flynn pocketed it.
    At that moment, he heard a sound, a fluttering in the rafters.
    He braced his pistol, but saw nothing. He used his flashlight. Still nothing. Could have been a possum or a coon. Not a lion, though, thank God, not up there.
    Continuing his search, he soon located another pistol, this one a Magnum. At least one of these guys had been decently armed. The pistol had been fired until it was empty.
    Charlie and Mike had fought for their lives in here. He hadn’t heard the shots, so the battle must have taken place while he was still on the rise overlooking the house. That would have been at least half an hour ago.
    He thought the situation over. Louie had been done by a big cat that had been expertly trained. Best trained animal in the world, no question. It hunted like a master tracker of the human kind, not like an animal. What had happened in here was that the lion and its human minder had worked together.
    The shadow dropping down from above was almost on him by the time he saw it. There were eyes—huge, glaring—and he was firing his pistol again and again, aware that he was emptying it just like Mike had.
    Then silence. Nothing was there but a wreath of smoke.
    He took a long step toward the truck—and saw something moving on the far side. Reflex made him brace the empty pistol.
    No more movement. No sound.
    He went closer, then around to the front of the truck. Shining his light into the darkness between the vehicle and the wall, he saw a mass of something on the floor. A closer look revealed that it was feathers.
    “Shit,” he said quietly. He’d shot at a poor damn barn owl. Fortunately for the owl, all he’d done was to separate it from part of its tail.
    It was time to get out of here. He had one hell of a dangerous journey ahead. Reluctantly, he approached Mike’s body again and felt for a reload for the Magnum. He didn’t find one. He’d never know if the guy failed to bring extra bullets, or used more than one cylinder. Not that it was that important. Dead is dead, and they certainly hadn’t been killed by any barn owl.
    It was time to do this, maybe lose his life and maybe not, but the longer he waited the more certain he felt that whoever had done three experts to death would find a way to kill a fourth—or was that a fifth? Diana had yet to be accounted