They were forced to slow down again as they came upon the even larger group of police and what looked like FBI surrounding an old biker bar. One of the police officers stopped Kristen’s van. She rolled down the window to talk with him.

“Is everything all right, Officer?”

“Where are you all heading this morning?” he asked.

“I’m Professor White. I am taking my students to see the archeological dig up the road here.”

“You’re a bit young to be a professor, don’t you think?” he said.

“I’m really smart,” she retorted. “Is there something we can help you with?”

“Have you seen anything strange or suspicious today?”

“Other than an army of cops way out here? No. What happened?”

“We had an incident along this road last night, and the suspect is still at large. He’s got long blond hair down to his shoulders and was last seen driving a green motorcycle and only wearing a pair of beige cargo pants,” he explained. “If you see anything, be sure to give us a call.”

“Will do, Officer. Thanks for the heads up.”

The officer took a step back from the van and waved them through.

A large-built, copper-skinned man stepped out of the biker bar doorway. He watched the three vans curiously as they drove away. A black SUV pulled up to the scene, and three men stepped out of the backseat wearing military uniforms. They walked up to the copper-skinned man, and one of them spoke, saying, “Special Agent Dutch Goodman, I presume.”

“Yes, sir. Call me Dutch,” he said, extending a hand.

“I’m Major Bennett. This is Captain Johnson and Lieutenant Edmonds. They lead some of our most elite platoons. Just as you have requested, they specialize in tracking down and eliminating high-priority targets in highly dangerous situations,” explained Major Bennett. “Personally, I think your request is a little overkill for the situation. Wouldn’t this task be more fitted for local SWAT?”

“If you knew what we were up against, you wouldn’t think so,” Dutch replied, gesturing for them to follow him. “If you wouldn’t mind . . .”

They followed him into the bar. There was blood, shattered glass, and overturned tables everywhere.

“It took us several hours to photograph the scene and remove the bodies. This was a massacre,” said Dutch.

Lieutenant Edmonds crouched down, examining the floor. “What sort of weapons are we dealing with?” he asked. “Besides the one shot fired into the ceiling, there’s no indication that firearms were used by the assailant.”

He spotted some bullet casings on the floor a few feet away. He got up to take a closer look then began walking through the room, studying the scene with an obviously experienced eye. “I’m only seeing evidence of one assailant. Were there more outside the bar? Did you get any information from the body?”

“The body? Which body are you talking about?” asked Dutch.

“The assailant’s,” replied Lieutenant Edmonds.

“We have reason to believe that there was only one assailant, and he is still at large,” said Dutch.

“I find that incredibly unlikely,” said Lieutenant Edmonds. “Somebody was shot multiple times with a .45 handgun right here from over there.” He indicated to where he found the bullet casings. “At least one bullet hit his liver. This is evident from the very dark, almost black blood on the floor. There is no evidence of an exit wound which means it must have been a hollow point. This would have caused severe damage to the liver, not to mention the other wounds he sustained. I find it very difficult to believe that any man could get up and walk away from that.”

Dutch looked at the major and the captain and said, “He’s good. I’m impressed.” He turned back to Lieutenant Edmonds. “We came to the same conclusions, although I have to admit it took us quite a bit longer. The man who shot the assailant was killed by the assailant soon afterward, as well as most of the people in here. We did, however, find one survivor. If you would follow me again . . .”

They all walked to and entered a large trailer. Inside were several computer and monitoring stations. Dutch approached an agent sitting at one of the computers.

“These gentlemen would like to see the interview with the survivor,” said Dutch.

Acknowledging the order, the agent pulled open a media file showing a trembling blond woman in her early thirties. The way she looked was enough to show that she had just experienced something horrific. Her hair was a matted mess, and she had mascara smudged around her eyes, trailing down her cheeks.

A voice behind the camera began to speak. “Stella, we understand how difficult this is for you, but if you can, please, in your own words, tell us what happened.”

“I-it w-was a normal night at first. I. . . I remember a man c-coming in, complaining about a s-speeding ticket, and not long afterward, he . . . it walked in,” she said.

“It?” the interviewer asked.

“I-it w-wasn’t a m-man. I-it l-looked like a man at first, but i-it. . . it . . .” She put her hands over her face in terror and broke down, sobbing.

“It’s okay, Stella. You’re safe now. You can tell us. What was it you saw?”

“The devil.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“Th-the Bible s-speaks of a serpent. Th-this thing had . . . snakes for arms. It . . . it k-killed ev-very . . .” She sobbed into her hands again.

Dutch gestured to the agent at the computer to turn the footage off. He turned toward the military officials and said, “That’s all we were able to get out of her. We found her hiding in one of the cupboards behind the bar—practically had to drag her out. She was in hysterics. We had to sedate her and transport her to the psychiatric wing of the hospital.”

“And you think this witness is credible?” asked Captain Johnson.

“I know what you are thinking, and I have to admit her story sounds pretty far-fetched. But besides the fact that the assailant got up and had the energy to kill the rest of the people in the bar after he was shot in the chest six times, there was one piece of evidence at the scene that was the most troubling and corroborates her story. Most of the victims at the scene were killed by very deadly snakebites.”

The military officials all looked puzzled.

“Not only were they killed by snakebites,” Dutch continued, “but every single bite was to the neck under the jawline. We have forensics looking at samples of the venom right now, but so far, they haven’t been able to identify the species of snake, although they have said it may be the most powerful toxin they have ever seen.”

“Nothing you are saying is making any sense. Do you actually expect us to believe this ridiculous story about a man with snake arms?” asked Captain Johnson.

“Were there no security cameras?” asked Lieutenant Edmonds.

“Only in the office where they keep the safe. There is very little crime in this area, so I guess the owner didn’t feel like he needed them. However, we did recover some footage from the dash cam of the first responders to the scene.” Dutch turned to the agent at the computer. “Go ahead and play it.”

The video began, showing the hood of the vehicle as it pulled into the parking lot of the bar. A voice spoke, saying, “This is AZ156. We have arrived at the scene. We see the vehicle of AZ152 but no sign of the officer.”

“What is that?” asked another voice abruptly.

The police car pulled up to the bar and parked right in front of the window. The body of a large bald man was folded over the windowsill, blood pouring down the wall.

The first voice spoke out again, sounding understandably rattled, saying, “Dispatch, this is AZ156, we need you to send an ambulance to our location immediately. We have a—” The voice stopped as a man with long blond hair walked out the front door of the bar. There was the sound of car doors opening. A bright white light coming from the driver’s side turned on and lit up the entranceway. The man held his arm up over his eyes to shield them from the light.

The first voice shouted “Freeze!” then paused for a moment before ordering, “Lie on the ground with your hands on your head!”

“Geez, that’s a lot of blood. This guy looks hurt bad,” said the second voice.

Everyone watching the video jolted when they saw the blond man suddenly leap into the air, fly over the light, and land to the left behind the camera’s viewpoint. A gunshot, followed by a gagging noise, was heard; a couple of seconds later, there was the sound of a tussle and another gunshot and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

Dutch reached over and paused the footage.

“The bodies of both those officers were found at the scene—the first one with claw marks under his jaw and the second shot by his own gun. They were killed on opposite sides of the vehicle only two seconds apart from each other.”

The faces of all three military officials looked shocked at what they just witnessed.

“I asked you here,” Dutch continued, “because we have very little knowledge of who or what we are dealing with. As you witnessed, this man is highly skilled and dangerous. Based on the evidence and the video, we have to assume the worst—as unbelievable as it may seem. We need our very best assets to track him down.”

“I’m sorry, but are you suggesting that we play this out on the pretenses that that woman’s story is accurate?” asked Captain Johnson. “Do you have any idea what this will look like?”