Luke and Delilah waited at a coffee stand while the rest of their crew stowed the gear in the fishing boats. They’d woken up well before sunrise to get down to Astoria’s docks so they could load and be out on the morning tide. Delilah was practically falling asleep on her feet, a quad mocha still too hot to drink in her hands. The stand was busy filling cardboard to-go boxes full of drip coffee. As the equipment got stowed, everyone filed back and got into line to get their personal orders in and help carry the extra coffee to their assigned boats.
As Luke looked around, he saw a mix of people joking gregariously and others standing quietly, fidgeting in place. Having learned about these people as he trained them, it all seemed exaggerated—overcompensation for nerves that everyone, including Luke, were fighting. He’d seen pre-battle jitters thousands of times on thousands of faces throughout his long life. As more eyes looked toward him, flicking away just as quickly, Luke realized they were looking for something from him. Straightening from his tired slouch, he drew his shoulders back and shifted into the body language of a leader. When eyes moved to him, he made eye contact and gave a measured nod in response. After a few minutes, the group calmed some. Although the nerves were still present and evident, they felt Luke had everything under control. It was a costume he could wear for his people even if his nerves were as unsettled as theirs.
The Coast Pack had rallied every fishing and seaworthy boat they had access to into service, keeping their crews light to free up space for Luke’s assault teams.
Lauren, the Coast Pack’s leader, sauntered over to Luke and Delilah. “Y’all about ready? The tide waits for no one.”
“Yeah, we’ve just about run the stand out of coffee. Gear is stowed. Everyone has their billet. Can I buy you a coffee?” Luke asked.
Lauren gave Luke a lopsided smile. “Sure thing, handsome. Make it a tall hazelnut latte.”
Luke placed the order then turned back to Lauren. “I haven’t seen Owen this morning.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’ll be meeting us later today out at sea. He’s got a surprise for y’all. Plus he didn’t want to draw attention on the docks. Sometimes he’s got good sense.”
Luke knew Lauren and Owen well enough to know the ribbing she and her brother exchanged was good-natured and their way of expressing their affection. They’d been guests at the farm several times over the last week, meeting with Luke and his command team to plan the naval assault on the vampire’s freighter.
The members of the Coast Pack were a bit more rough and tumble than the North Portland Pack he’d unwittingly become involved with. The Coast Pack was made up of a mix of loggers, fishers, and hippies with a few formerly clandestine marijuana farmers mixed in for good measure. Many of them were members of the various indigenous tribes of western Oregon. Lauren and Owen were members of the Chinook Tribe. When marijuana became legal in Oregon and Washington, first medically then recreationally, the pack had shifted more resources into the cash crop, especially as logging and fishing had been in a long decline along the Pacific coast. They’d been gracious enough to find extra boats, renting them from non-pack fishers so things wouldn’t be too crowded.
The journey out to meet the freighter would take a couple days. There would already be some shift sharing of beds as is. If there was anyone who needed rescuing, it would make things even tighter on the return trip.
Luke paid for the massive order, grabbed his quad Americano and a jug of drip, and followed Lauren out to her boat.
“Really? The Minnow?” Luke stared at the rear of the boat where the name was painted across the aft.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going on a three-hour tour. You’ll be fine!” Lauren winked at him.
“You’ve got a warped sense of humor.”
“Don’t you know it, honey. Get on the boat, or I’ll leave your ass here, standing around with that dumb look on your face.”
Pablo and Delilah exchanged grins as they watched the interaction, loving that Lauren always seemed to get Luke’s goat.
Luke looked at his friends, ignored their mirth and gestured toward the boat. “Shall we?”
The three friends joined Lauren and her oldest son Tobias and found a seat out of the way so the experts could navigate them into the Columbia River and past the dangerous Columbia Bar.
Luke, having been on smaller boats and rougher seas, fell asleep, even after his quad shot of caffeine as the flotilla assembled in the Columbia. And while there were an impressive number of boats, more would be meeting them out at sea. Lauren wanted to use several different docks to ensure they weren’t causing too big of a scene that would draw curious eyes.
He woke sometime later to the sound of Pablo heaving his guts over the side.
“Oh, that’s nasty,” Delilah said, moving away from Pablo to avoid any incidental spray in the breeze and choppy water.
“Apparently, our boy Pablo doesn’t have sea legs?” Luke asked, opening his eyes.
“You could say that…”
“Fuck you, gu…” Pablo leaned over the side of the boat and continued retching.
When Pablo stopped for a moment and pulled his head back in, Luke raised his voice. “Don’t worry, you’ll settle in. Once you’re able to get away from the edge, find a spot where you can keep your eyes on the horizon.”
Delilah poured coffee into Luke’s empty cup and brought it over to him. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, doing fine. This isn’t too bad. You’ve not seen rough seas until you’ve crossed the Horn in a frigate with a busted seam spilling water into your hold in a near hurricane force wind.” Luke stretched, taking the cup of coffee.
“The Horn?”
“The tip of South America, Cape Horn. I did a stint in the British navy in the nineteenth century. You’d have laughed your ass off at me the first time I crossed the eastern Mediterranean on a trireme on my way to Syria.”
“Seasick?”
Luke shook his head, a smirk on his face. “It wasn’t even rough seas, but yeah, thought I was gonna puke my caligae up.”
“Is this guy for real?” Tobias asked his mother.
“Rumor has it, he is.” Lauren said, keeping her eyes forward. “Holly believes him and trusts him, and you know that doesn’t happen easily. Go get Pablo a damp cloth to wipe his face down. He’ll feel better in a bit.”
Tobias went below deck and fetched a damp cloth for Pablo, who’d decided he was done vomiting for the moment and was trying to get his body under control.
“Of course, that was before I got my little gift. That was when it happened, during that campaign. After that, never got seasick again. Not sure if Mithras intended that or if it’s just a happy side effect.” Luke sipped his coffee, ignoring that Tobias was staring at him.
“How old are you?” Tobias asked.
“Tobias, that’s rude to ask. But thanks for saving me from having to do it myself,” Lauren chimed in.
“Let’s see… I was born in the year 86 of the common era. You can do the math.”
“You’re older than any werewolf I’ve ever heard of…” Tobias stood there, eyes agog. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Not today, kid. Not today.” He took another sip of coffee. “If you’re going to stand there with your mouth open, why don’t you get a pastry to stuff in it. Grab me one too. There’s a bag tucked next to the table.”
The flotilla worked its way out to open sea and away from the Oregon and Washington coast. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon when the surprise Lauren promised entered their field of vision, knifing through the ocean waves from the southeast.
Luke shaded his eyes with his hand. “What is that?”
Tobias pulled out a set of binoculars and handed them to Luke.
He let out a low whistle after he brought the binoculars to his eyes and identified what was flying through the waves. “Is that a PT Boat?”
Just then, the boat found another gear, or several more, and exploded into peak speed, sending up arcs of water from each side of the bow.
“Your uncle is so juvenile sometimes.” Lauren shook her head.
Tobias answered his mother with a ridiculous grin, staring at what must be his uncle’s favorite toy. Owen backed off the throttle after his initial display and changed course toward the boat his sister captained, pulling alongside The Minnow and matching the much slower speed of the fishing boat.
“Uh, Luke. Are those actual torpedoes?” Delilah was next to him, watching the new boat join their fleet.
“Those look a bit too realistic for mock-ups.”
Delilah shifted, crossing her arms over her chest. “And those machine guns look like the real deal, too.”
“Yeah.” Luke looked over at Lauren. She smirked at him and went back to minding her wheel.
Tobias tossed some rubber bumpers over the port side. When he finished, he caught a line tossed over from the PT Boat. The two boats eased toward each other until the PT Boat snugged into the rubber bumpers.
Luke shouted across to Owen, who was currently behind the wheel of his boat. “That’s some fishing trawler you’ve got there!”
Owen’s response was a single hand in the air with his middle finger rising skyward.
“Mind if I come aboard?”
“Please.” Owen stepped away from the wheel, handing it over to another man.
Luke leapt up onto the side of the fishing boat and jumped across to the deck of the World War Two era torpedo boat. The men shook hands.
“Where’d you get this beast?” Luke asked.
“Argentina.”
“How’d an American PT boat get to Argentina?”
“The government sold some after the war. I crewed a .50-caliber on one during the war. Got a hankering to be a captain and found one of these Higgins made boats in Argentina. I greased the right wheels…” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together making the “cash” motion. “And voila, my own torpedo boat.”
“You’ve done quite the job restoring it.”
“Yeah. It’s a constant work in progress. Lauren refers to it as my ‘money pit,’ but hey, we all have hobbies I guess.”
“And everything works?”
“Yup. Although I’ve not fired off any torpedoes. They’re kind of hard to come by…”
“I’ll say.” Luke looked over one of the torpedoes, catching a bit of Cyrillic lettering along the nose of one.
Seeing where Luke’s eyes rested, Owen smirked. “I know a guy.”
Luke’s eyebrows rose toward his hairline. “Don’t suppose you’ve got depth charges, too?”
Owen looked over toward the racks of barrels. “Nah, just extra diesel.”
“I thought these things ran on aviation fuel.”
“You know how expensive that shit is? I love those old Packard engines, but efficient they were not. I swapped them for some high-power diesel engines. We wanted to have extra diesel, so we’ve got some on a few different boats. I can carry the most though. The racks work well enough for the task.” He pointed back to the rows of barrels that ran along the deck’s edges. “I only had two torpedoes anyways.”
Tobias transferred over to his uncle’s boat. As Owen showed Luke around the PT Boat, Tobias eased the throttle forward as he joined the outside of the fleet. It was still early on the first day out from port. It’d been a while since Luke had last been in this confined of space with virtual strangers. Luke already liked the gregarious Owen, but it’d still be tight quarters on the seventy-eight-foot boat. Owen introduced Luke and Delilah to the Coast Pack members they’d not met yet. Pablo took the opportunity to crawl into one of the unclaimed bunks and fell asleep.
* * *
Luke paced the deck of the PT Boat, mumbling angrily to himself. The freighter was late, and the sun had set. They’d have to face the vampires.
Owen scowled toward Delilah. “Tell your boy to keep it down. I’m trying to listen.”
Delilah nodded at Owen before walking over to Luke and taking hold of his arm. “Luke, hush up. Owen thinks he hears something.”
Luke nodded and stopped pacing and grumbling.
Owen picked up the radio mic. “Everyone, cut your running lights.”
As the boat crested the wave it rode, Luke saw the lights splayed behind them blink out as the word went down the line. The PT Boat had taken the lead when the expected rendezvous with the freighter hadn’t happened earlier that day. Luke had wanted to attack the freighter in the daylight and take the vampire factor out of it, at least on the deck. Now, they’d be operating in the vampire’s element. Fortunately, the werewolves were equally comfortable in the dark, even if they kept mostly daytime hours passing as humans. It still didn’t keep him from grumbling. They’d done nighttime drills, but there were always more chances of something going wrong with visibility restricted.
They’d spent the delay refueling the boat. Owen and Tobias drained several of the barrels into their tanks. Even though they’d changed to diesel, the three engines needed a lot of fuel, even at the low speeds they’d been using to stay back with their fleet of fishing boats. They could only go as fast as the slowest boat.
The PT Boat, now at the bottom of a trough, started up the next swell until it crested, lifting the boat above the waves. There it was. The running lights of a very large vessel shone out over the darkness of the Pacific night, shrouded in a dense layer of clouds. Luke’s anxiety flattened out as it often did when the action was about to begin. He walked back to the cockpit and stood next to Owen.
“OK, everyone knows the plan. Keep the speed down to keep the noise to a minimum. Let them come to us. Out.” Owen returned the mic to its clip. “Everyone to stations. Ready grapples and ladders.”
Tobias popped his head above deck and jogged over to one of the .50-caliber machine gun turrets and strapped himself in, giving the turret a bit of a left right swivel to ensure it was operating. Delilah climbed into the other.
Luke grabbed a large duffel bag and opened it. Unzipping his heavy jacket and stripping it off, he set it aside. He took out his padded shirt and tossed it on, following with his scarf. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a set of ornately carved and molded greaves. Smoothing out the denim of his skinny jeans, he strapped on the greaves. Next, he removed his lorica, which he shimmied into before using a leather strip to strap it closed.
The werewolves from the Coast Pack had never seen him gear up. They stared as he worked his way through the bag. He pulled on his tactical belt with its shoulder straps which crossed in the back. His gladius, he strapped to his left hip, the rudis so the hilt could be drawn with the left hand, just over the left shoulder. Taking out a hoodie, he slipped it on, covering his armor and the sword strapped to his back. Except for the greaves and the sword on his hip, he’d look like anyone else with a hoodie and scarf.
The boats slipped toward the massive freighter as it plowed through the water. People began flopping out bumpers on each side of their boats in case they missed their first tie up.
“Delilah, would you mind helping me get the rest of this ready? Someone else can handle the .50-cal.”
Delilah crawled out of the small turret, a disappointed look on her face. “What do you need?”
“Let’s get the shotguns loaded and ready. Then we’ll need to load up the backpack. I brought my helmet, but I think I’ll stuff it in there.”
They took the shotguns out of the bag they’d stowed them in and began feeding shells into their magazines. When they’d been loaded, he pulled out his two sawed-offs and strapped one to his right leg, giving the other one to Delilah as a backup. Pablo strode over to help them. Taking the shotgun Luke used most of the time, Pablo loosened the strap so it would fit around the increased size of Luke’s armored torso.
“Here, buddy, try this on. Make sure it’ll fit and you can get it around.” Pablo held up the strap and helped Luke slide it over his shoulder. “That’ll work.”
Luke practiced removing it a few times to get the motion clean with his increased bulk. The rest of the wolves who’d be going on deck prepped their guns and gear. Luke assumed these preparations were going on with the other boats as well, the North Portland Pack readying to make their next round of war on the vampires trying to invade their city.
As the freighter closed the gap between them, Owen pulled the boat around so their bows were aligned and both vessels were facing the same direction. Luke gathered his squad on the back of the boat. Making eye contact with each of them, he reached out and patted the shoulders of a few who looked like they might need the extra encouragement. He knew there would be wounds, but they were committed to the action. He was ready, his worries and fear pushed to the back of his mind where they wouldn’t distract him from his job.
“OK, I’m going up the first line, and I’ll hold the deck. Pablo and Ahmed will follow and get the ladder secured so the rest can follow. I’ll cover you while they help the others over the top. Any questions?” No one spoke up. “OK, let’s keep it quiet from here on out. I don’t think they can hear us over the sound of their own engines, but let’s not take chances. They’re loud as fuck, so be wary of anyone sneaking around. If it’s too loud, use your ear protection. That’s why we got you special earplugs for your radios. The decibel levels on these things can exceed a rock concert depending on where you are.”
Luke got out the grappling hook and ensured the rope hadn’t tangled during its journey. Satisfied, he twirled the hook a bit, getting ready. Owen gave him a nod, signaling he was ready to do his part. Luke increased the circumference of his circles until he launched the grapple into the air and over the railing of the freighter. He pulled back until the grapple snagged on something. Luke tugged at it, putting most of his weight on it to see if it would hold well enough for him to climb.
“Don’t fall in. You’ll sink straight to the bottom in all that iron,” Owen said.
“I can swim.”
Owen’s eyebrows shot up. “In all that?”
“Standard legionary training. I don’t fancy doing it in this swell, but I can keep above water until someone fishes me out.”
“OK…” Owen didn’t seem too sure. “Once you get going, I’ll back away from the side a bit so if you do fall, you won’t hit the deck or get crushed in between. I don’t want your corpse scratching the paint on my baby.”
“Understood.” Luke worked his way up the knotted rope, moving quickly for a man encumbered by heavy armor. He grunted in annoyance when a wave sent a spray up, soaking one of his calves. Just before the top, he stopped and popped his head above the deck to see if anything awaited him. Ducking and letting go with one hand, he gave the “OK” signal. He finished his climb and flopped over the top of the rail, sliding slightly on the foot the wave had soaked. He pulled his shotgun off his back and stood guard, making room for the next climbers.
Pablo was next. He shimmied up the rope, making quick work of it. Down below on the deck of the PT Boat, someone tied the end of the rope to a rope ladder and stood back. Pablo hauled the rope up. When he’d gotten it to the top, he affixed it to the rails, ensuring it was tight. He signaled down that all was ready. One by one, the squad from the PT Boat made their way up the ladder and over the rail. Delilah was last up. She had a rope tied around her belt. Once Pablo helped her over the top, they pulled up the rope which had a large bag attached to it.
They opened it and pulled out several backpacks, including the one Luke had stashed his helmet in. They were distributed to the various members of the team so they’d have the tools they needed, including boxes of additional shotgun shells. With the large bag empty, they tossed it back over the side to land on the deck of the PT Boat.
A shot cracked on the other side of the ship, pulling Luke’s attention away from their task. His mouth was half open, ready to order everyone to assist the other side, but they had their own objective. They’d have to rely on their teammates to handle their own objectives. He huffed and waved everyone to follow him toward the lane running down the middle of the ship from the bow to the superstructure.