When Gwen and Luke arrived, they slid into their reserved booth in the back corner. Luke sat next to Maggie as Gwen took the other side by Delilah. Pam came and collected their drink and food orders, leaving everyone to chat while they waited for beers and lunch.
When Pam had cleared the plates and wiped the crumbs, leaving a clean table for them to work on, they scooted forward in their seats, elbows on the table. Pieter, eyeing Luke warily, pulled out his folders and laptop. While Pieter kept giving Luke odd looks, Pablo seemed to be giving Pieter the stink eye. Something had happened between them while Luke had been hiding from life. He didn’t have time or the emotional bandwidth to dig into it; he was barely keeping himself afloat as is.
Luke cleared his throat by way of calling the table to attention. “So where are we at with incoming ships, Pieter?”
“Well, we missed the five containers that started the debacle…” He looked down at his folder with sheafs of paper covered in highlighted lines. “Looks like the next scheduled one is several weeks out. But it’s a big one.” He pulled his laptop in front of him, looking intently at the screen as he typed rapidly. “Shit.”
Everyone was leaning forward, waiting on bated breath as Pieter’s typing sped picked up, his fingers striking the keys harder as his brow furrow deepened.
“Well, shit. I have an update on this one from father. We knew this freighter had the most containers on it, but as they’ve been digging deeper into the records, they’ve found more on this ship.” He leaned into his computer, eyes quickly scanning over the lines back and forth. “I’m counting thirty…thirty-seven containers.”
“That’s…a lot,” Delilah said, slumping in her seat.
Luke took a deep breath before letting it out. “That’s an invasion.”
“What can we do?” Sam looked deeply concerned. “Can we get to the containers quicker? Before they’re emptied at the port?”
Luke pursed his lips. “I don’t know if we can, not with our lack of access and Homeland Security protocols at the port.”
“Can we get to it earlier? Maybe while it’s on the river before it docks?” Delilah asked.
“What do you think, Luke?” Pablo asked eagerly.
“I don’t know. Capturing a ship on the river is going to be risky. Noisy. Too close to cops. And their loyalty to public safety is suspect at best.”
Pieter looked confused.
Luke ran his hand through his hair. “There’s been evidence that the vampires have infiltrated the police and possibly the city government. We haven’t been able to figure out how deeply or thoroughly, but enough so that it adds a very dangerous wild card into the equation. Portland’s police are bad even on their best behavior, but as the foot soldiers of the vampires? Not good.”
“And if they’ve infiltrated Portland’s police, who’s to say they don’t have other police departments in their pocket, or at least some officers?” Sam added.
Luke nodded. “True. We could be seeing an army of vampire-controlled cops counter-attacking our efforts. Hell, they could be helping the vampires unload their cargo.”
Delilah leaned forward, ensuring she had everyone’s attention. “Well, what if we attack before they get close enough to land?”
Pablo turned to Luke. “Yeah, that could work.”
“How though, logistically speaking? You got a battleship in your pocket?” Luke scoffed.
“You’ve seen me naked.” Pablo smirked.
The women rolled their eyes. Pieter just looked confused. Gwen giggled.
Luke narrowed his eyes. “Ha. Thirty-seven or more containers. That’s a lot of vampires even if some are supplies and equipment.” He looked at Pieter. “What about the crew? How many? Any chances they’re in cahoots with the vampires?”
“A typical cargo ship of this size, maybe twenty crew members.” He lowered his head to the screen, making a couple clicks on his mouse. “Probably not in league though; the captain and at least a few of his crew are werewolves from Germany.”
“Well, that doesn’t discount that they’re working together. Vampires and wolves have teamed up before. So, we have potentially twenty crew members, and who knows how many vampires with who knows how much ordnance. Even assuming we can get a big enough assault force, we have no way to get out to the freighter. I don’t have any shipping contacts.”
“Boats we might be able to provide,” Sam said, making eye contact with Luke. “The Coast Pack used to be heavily involved in fishing. They still have a lot of larger boats and probably have the contacts to get more.”
“Would they be willing to put them at risk for this?” Luke asked.
“Lauren and Owen will listen, and you can hire them if that helps. They really don’t need the money. They’re making a killing since the state legalized marijuana, but the gesture is always welcome. It would also be a boon to the coast’s economy. Fishing isn’t what it used to be and a lot of people would gladly rent their boats for some extra income.”
Pablo looked back at Luke. “We’ve been digging into the background of the pack members. We’ve got a fair few with military experience in past lives. Between them and some of the more interested sweeper teams, we can put together a good strike force.”
Luke’s anxiety spiked as he looked around the table with everyone’s eyes boring into him. His breaths shortened and grew shallow as he tried to keep panic from overwhelming him.
“It’s too dangerous. Too many people could get hurt. I—”
Delilah sat up and slammed the heel of her fist into the table, causing a few pieces of silverware to jump and clatter. “Damn it, Luke. It’s already dangerous. People are already getting hurt. If that ship lands and the vampires get onto Portland’s streets with the kind of heavy firepower we think they have, we’re fucked. We might as well just pack up and leave now, because the city will belong to them. You won’t be safe. I won’t be safe. The pack won’t be safe. Every citizen of this city won’t be safe.”
She took a deep breath, shaking her head. “You used to be a leader of men, soldiers, warriors. Fucking lead, because if you don’t step up to do it, you can add this city to the tally of those you’ve failed. You can add everyone at this table and all their family and friends to that tally.” She turned to Sam. “How many people live in the Portland area?”
“Over two million.”
Delilah turned back to Luke. “You remember Wapato. Do you want to consign those two million people to that? What about the next city after this one turns into a breeding ground for an army of those evil fuckers? You can’t back out now. You’ve pulled us all in too deep with you. If you quit, I’m done with you.”
Luke swallowed, trying to keep eye contact with the blazing glare of Delilah’s anger. He looked around the table, trying to figure out what they were thinking. All his brain could process were Delilah’s words ringing loud and true. Licking his lips, he took a deep breath, released it, and returned his gaze to Delilah. The silence hung heavy and potent between them. She wasn’t giving him any quarter. It took a moment for him to recognize the feel of someone’s hand sliding over the back of his hand, fingers wrapping around his hand and under his palm to grip it reassuringly. Finally, he broke eye contact with Delilah, hanging his head in shame.
“You’re right. I got us into this. I can’t quit on you all now. It seems like today is a day for me to say ‘sorry’ repeatedly.” He sighed, lifting his gaze and giving everyone an apologetic nod. “So. Naval assault it is.”
Sam cleared her throat. “Let’s take a few minutes and stretch our legs. Pablo, can you lock the doors until happy hour so we have some more privacy? We really need to come up with a command center. We can’t always use this bar.”
“Another round to cool our throats?” Pablo asked.
“What I wouldn’t give for a pintje of lager,” Pieter said.
“A what?” Pablo asked.
“It’s a small glass, 25cl. So about eight ounces. It’s how they serve a lager or pils in Belgium. It’s easy to get through before it goes warm,” Luke replied, filling in Pablo on a nugget of Belgian beer culture.
Pablo nodded. “Well, I’ll see what I can do.”
Maggie—it had been her hand holding his, providing reassurance—let go of him, giving his leg a couple pats. “I need to get going. I have to check in on a couple patients and begin organizing supplies and medics.”
“Thanks, Maggie.” A faint smile tugged up at the corners of Luke’s lips as a measure of warmth spread though him.
She smiled at Luke softly, holding eye contact for a moment before turning to leave. He watched her walk away, his eyes lingering after she disappeared out the door.
* * *
Once they all took a stretch break and cleared their heads after the tense argument, they settled into planning. Pablo and Delilah were in charge of organizing the assault teams and coordinating with Sam on enlisting the aid of the coastal pack. They also had to arrange for people to cover those who’d need time off if they worked in a pack business. Maggie, who already knew her job, was prepping medical supplies and personnel.
“How long before that freighter gets into Oregon waters?” Luke asked.
Pieter pulled out his laptop and clicked away at the keyboard. “Looks like it’s just entered the Caribbean. So, depending on how long it takes to get through the Panama Canal, we’re looking at around three weeks. Once it clears the canal, it’s about twelve days to the Port of Portland.
“OK, that gives us some time to get everything organized. Good, good.” Luke nodded, thinking.
Luke had some ideas but wanted to work privately with Pieter on how best to handle their upcoming assault. Besides helping lead the Belgian pack, he’d enlisted in the Belgian military and gone through commando training in the '70s, making his recentish military experience a prime tool to help plan their upcoming assault.
It had been several years since Luke had planned anything this big or audacious. He didn’t have a lot of time or the necessary resources, but he’d have to figure it out with what he had. Fortunately, a multitude of problems could be solved with money, of which he had more than enough.
When he got home, he sorted through his gear, more for a sense of familiarity and comfort than any need for maintenance, stumbling on the sawed-off twelve gauges he’d busted out for the first time in decades.
“Hmm, double barrels won’t be terribly helpful, but…” he mumbled to himself.
He went upstairs to the office and opened his laptop, searching for gun auction sites and local gun shows.
* * *
Luke, sitting outside Gwen’s therapist’s office, texted with the various members of his team, working over the plans they’d set in motion the day before at the Howling Moon. He also checked on his gun auctions and purchases, ensuring they’d arrive on time. Everything was moving fast as they stared down the barrel of a short timeline and a big mission they weren’t sure they’d be able to pull off.
The therapist opened her door and poked her head out. “Mr. Irontree?”
“Yes?”
“Would you mind stepping into my office?”
He got up and followed her into the office, taking the seat next to Gwen on the couch.
“Mr. Irontree, I’d like to get Gwen on the schedule again, if you don’t mind.”
“Please, call me Luke. Well, the next few weeks are going to be a bit hectic…” He thought about it. Weighing what he was doing against his other responsibilities. If he needed to take a bit of time to get Gwen to her therapy appointments, someone else could stand in for him for a few hours. “You know what? I can make it happen no matter what.”
They picked a date, and Luke put it in his phone’s calendar.
“Gwen, it was really nice meeting you. We’ll see you in a week, OK?” Dr. Schmidt said with a smile.
“OK,” Gwen replied.
“Gwen, can you wait outside for a moment, please?” Luke asked. “I’d like to talk to Dr. Schmidt for a minute.”
Gwen nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Thanks for working to get her in, Doctor.”
“Please, Connie works.”
Luke nodded. “How is she doing, Connie?”
“Overall, not bad, all things considered. She’s got a long road and a lot of work ahead of her, but that’s only to be expected. Once I’ve had more time with her, we’ll discuss treatment options to figure out the best approach to help her deal with her trauma. I want to take a moment to go over patient/doctor confidentiality and how it works in regard to her guardian.”
She pulled out some informational pamphlets and handed them to Luke, discussing the law and how it affected Gwen’s rights and his rights as her guardian.
“I understand. I’m not looking to violate her privacy. I would like some help making sure I’m providing a solid home for her. Um, the main reason I wanted to talk to you, though, isn’t about her. I think I need to see someone myself.”
“Ah, yes. Maggie mentioned you might ask. I have a couple of recommendations, but I think you should start with Dr. Hamdi. They specialize in posttraumatic stress disorder and complex posttraumatic stress disorder in adults.” She handed him a slip of paper with two names and numbers on it. “As far as helping you with Gwen, there’ll be some sessions where you’re in the room with us so we can work on some joint things.
“I don’t want to rush you out, but I have to get ready for my next patient. It was very nice to meet you and Gwen, Luke.”
“Thanks, Connie. We’ll see you in a week.” Luke got up and walked out the door.
Gwen, seeing Luke, stood up and walked with him out of the building and back to the rental car.
“So, do you think you’ll like seeing Connie? It’s OK if you don’t. We can find someone else. Maggie said it can sometimes take a few therapists before you find the right one for you.”
Gwen thought about it for a minute while they pulled out onto Mississippi Ave. “Yeah, I think I like her. We’ll stick with her for now.”
“That sounds good. If you ever change your mind, let me know. OK?”
Gwen nodded and smiled at him.
“Hungry? We can stop up at Prost and get a sausage. Then we need to go home and pack up some clothes. Sometime in the next few days, we’ll be moving up to the farm to get some stuff ready for the mission.”
“OK,” Gwen replied. “A sausage sounds good.”