The smell of burnt jet fuel sweeps in through the open doors, adding to the sensory experience. The rotors thump overhead, the engines whining as the throttles adjust. The chill of the early morning air is felt only on my cheeks as the modified shark suit keeps me warm. We can’t wear them for extended periods of time as skin needs to breathe, but the embedded chain mail should keep us better protected.
Treetops speed past just a few feet below the wheels, mostly hidden in the deep shadows of the valley. Flocks take wing at our approach, disturbed from their slumber and scattering to safer branches. The eastern skies are barely lightening; dawn isn’t far off. Darkened slopes rise to both sides, the crests blacker than the night sky.
Banking sharply, we follow the contours of the narrow valley, avoiding population centers. We aren’t exactly keeping away from those for any reason other than it’s just something we do by habit. This mission isn’t about anything human, so we’re not overly concerned about being seen.
The chief concern I have is that it’s been a while since we departed the facility, giving whomever plenty of time to put additional security into place. That could mean they’re moving additional packs of the wilder Strigoi into the site, or perhaps more of those guardians. My preference would be the mostly mindless hordes as opposed to the two beasts we fought at the church. Those were more than a handful. Of course, there were those full-bloods that morphed through the doors. If the underground structure were to be guarded, it’s just as likely that they’d send more of them. While we may have taken those almost as soon as they materialized, I seriously doubt it will be as easy next time.
Small sparkles of light appear ahead as we near the end of the valley, the streetlights of a small town doing their best to chase the night away. Tiger One turns tightly, the open doorway angling down toward the jungle below. G forces are the only thing keeping us from slipping down to our deaths. Leveling out, the helo pulls up to crest a ridge of land extending from the higher ridge lines, and then we go light as the chopper flies down the other side.
Racing out of the valley and onto the plain, the pilots skirt the villages and towns dotting the flatland. Even with the portending dawn, vast tracts of darkness circle the tiny stands of light. Sparse red and white lights move along the crisscrossing roads, all unaware of the nearby soldiers racing through the last of the night, seeking the dawn.
I look out of the open door, swaying with the turns of the helo. The shotgun cinched to my back feels odd and a little bulky for my purposes. But the results we had with the attachments are far and above what we could hope to achieve with our carbines. We replaced our usual stocks with folding ones. If we meet up with conventional forces, we’ll need them. I’m a little concerned about having to give up some of our 6.5mm, but running out of shotgun shells in the midst of an attack such as we encountered is an even worse thought. We’ll land with carbines in hand in case we run into an opposing force, but will switch to the shotguns once we descend into darkness.
The cuts under my suit itch. We didn’t get a chance to heal much before heading back out, but we have pain pills on hand in case it gets to be too much. My thoughts go out to the kids. I’ve spoken with them when I could to let them know I’m well, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to spend any time with them. This operation with the cartel took far too long. I’m hopeful that this mission will be the last one down here and then we can all go home.
It’s been a hell of a ride so far and I’ll be grateful if this last trip is equivalent to the roller coaster easing to its stop. However, I can’t get my hopes up. After all, someone released those Strigoi, and I’m pretty sure that camera above the door was live. That facility had been created at great expense, and I seriously doubt they’re going to let us just stroll in. The gunships have maintained coverage and haven’t reported seeing anyone enter. Well, at least at the village. Who knows what other entrances there might be?
The horizon ahead lightens even more, the thin strip of blue growing, the night skies and stars slowly being pushed back. The first signs of warmth appear with a line of yellow and then orange as we streak toward our destination.
The land flares in sudden light as the sun crests the horizon, long shadows forming and shrinking rapidly as it rises higher. Sand and shrubs race underneath as the church steeple comes into view. Devil Six is circling overhead and reporting that all is clear. I hate that we’re going in through the same entry—the odds of being discovered multiply exponentially.
Tiger One sweeps over the village perimeter, flaring abruptly in the middle avenue near the well. Gonzalez, McCafferty, and I quickly hop out as the helo settles, heading away to set up a small perimeter. Without coming to a full stop, Tiger One lowers its nose and picks up speed. Through the swirling sand, we search the surrounding buildings, attempting to penetrate the deep shadows.
Tiger Two flies in on the heels of the departing helo, depositing the three remaining team members. The early morning sun filters through the dust, the world momentarily lost from sight and cast in a dull brown light. The dirt slowly settles, the visibility clearing.
Through the settling dust, the wreckage of the well comes into view. For some reason, seeing it makes me tired and lonely for home. I miss my kids. I guess I’m anxious to get this over with. I’ll have to watch to make sure that this eagerness to go home doesn’t creep into my decision-making, especially considering what we ran into the last time we were down there.
The desire to finish is mixed with the trepidation of again descending into the tunnels. At least this time we’re a little better prepared. We’re wearing our modified shark suits, which should sustain an attack or two from the Strigoi. Considering one swipe is a life ender, I’ll take whatever additional protection I can get. We’re also packing shotguns—M1014s with nine shells in the chamber—and plenty of ammo…hopefully.
Our carbines with attachments are slung on our backs just in case, but we’re not carrying a shit ton of ammo for those. If we get into a firefight with normal forces, we won’t be able to stay engaged for long. And of course, plenty of flashbangs hang from our vests.
Staring down the well, the bottom obscured in darkness due to the low angle of the sun, nothing looks different from our previous visit. If anyone entered, they did so from one of the other tunnels. I have no doubt that our stay the last time is known to whoever oversees the facility. Their reaction is the unknown. We could be walking into a hornet’s nest of traditional forces, or other Strigoi could have been brought in. I suppose there could also be full-blooded vampires waiting below.
Our primary mission is to pinpoint the complex’s position; our secondary task is to explore the tunnels. It would be nice to see where the wide one leads, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the power is being supplied by the solar research institute a few miles away. If we can also gather the hard drives, that would be a bonus.
“We’re here to nail down the facility coordinates. If we’re still free and clear following that, then we can explore the tunnel systems. But, if we catch any hint that we have company down there, we’re out, retreating back here for an exfil. We’ll let explosives deal with things at that point,” I brief, still staring down the hole.
The dim light at the bottom of the well represents the transition between light and darkness, between danger and safety. I can’t imagine a scenario where the cameras didn’t catch us on our previous visit. It’s a matter of what actions have been taken since then. Are they here already, or did we arrive before they could respond? I’m truly not sure which threat I dread more: the greater numbers of the wild ones or the speed and intelligence of the full-bloods. I do a brass check on my shotgun and step inside the tunnel.
The other thing I’m not a fan of is entering via the same route, but we don’t have much of a choice. If we were to try and find another entrance over at the solar institute, that would take time that I don’t think we have. Plus, who knows what we might run into should we be caught sneaking about. I’d like this to be a quick operation, finding the exact location of the chamber and then getting the hell out.
This second trip through the tunnel is slower than the first. I’m not sure which is worse: not knowing what may lie ahead, or having the knowledge that we fought Strigoi here the last time. Would you rather have the unknown or a dangerous known? I don’t have an answer to that one, other than I know I’m carrying a little more tension inside and am moving with more caution.
My ears are focused on hearing the slightest whisper of feet moving on the stone, listening for the raspy echo of the faintest footstep. The quiet within the passageway is absolute except for the soft exhalations from us six soldiers stealthily creeping through the underground passage.
We move through the tunnel like a giant inchworm. Greg and McCafferty hang back with the laser range finder and take measurements to the front of the line. They then move forward and reestablish a position as Gonzalez and I proceed. The experiences of our last foray into this place weigh heavily, and we pause frequently as imagined sounds surface in the silence.
It seems like an eternity before we reach the intersection. Creeping up to the corner, I know that I’m facing a decision. We have an accurate direction and measurement to the outer walls of the facility, so do we venture forward to more precisely measure the dimensions or call it a day? The lazy part of me wants to call it good. Well, maybe it’s not really the lazy part, but the part that really doesn’t want to mess with more Strigoi. I’ve frankly had my fill of them. I think the greater truth is that I’ve had my fill of this southern operation and am looking forward to going home to refresh and see my kids. However, there’s a part of my brain that is disgusted with myself for attempting to half-ass it.
Crouched at the corner, I look across to Gonzalez, who is eyeing both the corner and me. She shrugs, asking if we’re good or moving forward. With an inward sigh, I nod forward and peek around the corner. There’s nothing but more tunnel leading in both directions, ending in black voids. Whoever was monitoring the security systems had to have seen us, so these empty tunnels are confusing. Perhaps they’re remotely monitored and there are no forces nearby. They have to be at least en route, though. I’d like to determine where the wider tunnel leads and collapse that one as well.
I signal, and Gonzalez and I sweep around our respective corners, Denton and Henderson moving quickly behind. There’s still nothing but an absolute quiet filling the passageways. I find myself almost wishing that something would materialize rather than having to continue in silence. Like before, I keep us going to the left, following our old path. I don’t like keeping to the same way, but if we can get these measurements precise, then the blockbusters will have a better chance of destroying the entire complex.
With a slowness that seems to measure in years, we move up to and around the next corner when the radio comes alive.
“Jack, we have movement back here,” Greg calls.
“Strigoi!” McCafferty radios at nearly the same time.
“Okay, we’ve overstayed our welcome. Henderson, Denton, move back to help. We’ll fight our way back to the exit.”
“Copy that,” Denton states.
The shadows ahead start moving at the same time that muted shotgun blasts open up from behind.
“They’re coming at us from both directions. Greg, you four open a path for us to reach the other tunnel,” I call.
I don’t hear anything in return except for continued gunfire. It sounds like it’s getting a little hot back there, but with Henderson and Denton about to join in, that should be enough to force our way through.
“Greg, you copy?” I query as the first blurred streak appears.
I dart to the side and attempt to duck, but I’m too late. There’s a sharp pull at my neck as the Strigoi materializes next to me for a split second. I turn with the tug, feeling the material of the modified shark suit rip. However, there isn’t an accompanying sting as the fabric saves my skin from certain destruction.
With my turn, I come to face the Strigoi as it fully materializes at what would have been behind me. It turns at the same time as I come around. I expected to see anger, rage, some sort of emotion, but the dark eyes are flat and blank. I’m reminded of what a slaughterhouse employee’s reaction might be to killing a cow. That flat expression changes slightly, registering surprise at seeing a human still standing with a weapon aimed at it instead of clutching a ravaged neck and spraying blood everywhere.
I fire my shotgun at close range, the pellets ripping through the fabric of the Strigoi’s dark clothing and tearing into its body. I notice we’re facing full-blooded vampires as the creature is blown backward by the force, disintegrating into a cloud of dark smoke before it hits the wall.
To my side, Gonzalez has also been turned by the assault and quickly dispatches another. I notice the neck of her suit is torn, some of the material hanging down. She quickly rotates back to the front, ready to take on the next foe.
“Sir, I don’t see any sign of Greg or McCafferty,” Denton calls to the background of gunfire.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We tracked back to their position and ran into Strigoi without seeing any sign of them,” Denton answers.
“Did you see what happened?”
“Negative, sir.”
Well, shit. Not only do I now have two missing members, but we’re down by a third of our firepower. Getting back to the exit will be tricky to say the least, but that’s not my main concern. I need to know what in the hell happened to Greg and McCafferty. There’s a chance they’re fighting on the other side of the Strigoi that the two snipers ran into, but my stomach is clenched with anxiety nonetheless.
“Very well, push back as much as you can. We need to reach that intersection or we’re done for,” I reply.
“We’ll do what we can,” Denton responds.
In my periphery, I see Gonzalez spun by another vampire morphing into our midst. As she turns, she stumbles and goes down to her hands and knees. I quickly turn and fire into the Strigoi that is attempting to rip into her. The vampire launches to the side, slamming into the rock wall. I fire again, the creature evaporating into smoke as it starts slumping down. Gonzalez is quickly back on her feet, turning to engage.
Slowly, we walk our way backward, hoping to join up with Denton and Henderson. If we can achieve that, we’ll be able to form a tight perimeter through which the vampires can’t morph to land behind us. We’re additionally vulnerable if we allow them to continue getting behind us as we can’t individually cover two directions at once.
We round the corner and we each toss a flashbang, hearing the canisters clank against the walls and floor. Bright light illuminates the passage beyond, the corner shielding us somewhat from the blast. At a minimum, that should distract the vampires long enough for us to make it to the rest of our team.
“Run!” I yell to Gonzalez.
Together, we turn and bolt back, warning the others that we’re approaching from behind.
The tunnel lights up from the flashes of gunfire, the two ahead silhouetted more distinctly. The smell of gunpowder is strong within the confines. Gonzalez and I don’t have to go far before we’re on the backs of Henderson and Denton. With the four of us together, we start pushing toward the intersection.
The passage is alive with the continuous sound of gunfire and is filled with the settling smoke of dispatched vampires. Gonzalez initially focuses her attention to the front with the other two. With our rate of fire, reloading becomes problematic, but we quickly settle into a routine of rotating one in, one out to reload. The positions shift like a volleyball team as we smoothly fold in and out of the line. The fortunate thing is that the Strigoi aren’t able to materialize behind us anymore. The few that have tried only ended up in front of the guns.
The vampires must realize that they aren’t able to push directly through and start attempting to go overhead and drop down from above. Luckily, thanks to the elixir Vladmir gave us, we’re able to see and react more quickly. That means the ability to follow the dark blurred trails as they morph, giving us an extra split-second’s warning as to where they’ll be. I think experience has enhanced our ability to do this as well, but I feel that I’m always still a little behind. However, without that slight boost, we’d have been dead a hundred times now.
One blurs, the Strigoi materializing in the air over my head. Ducking while bringing my shotgun up, I meet the descending vampire with a blast to the chest. The force of the pellets knocks the creature offline, to fall to the rock floor instead of on top of my head. The shotgun bucks hard in my hands as I fire again into the vamp starting to rise, turning it into a cloud of smoke.
However, that diverted my attention. Sensing something approaching quickly, I step forward and turn. Claws tear through my fatigue shirt sleeve, shredding part of the shark skin underneath. Continuing to turn, I round on the new creature and fire into its materialized form. It stumbles back into the rock wall, where my next shot sends it into ash.
“Reloading,” I call out.
Denton finishes jacking another shell into the chamber and steps into my place. While reloading my shotgun, my thoughts turn to Greg and McCafferty. I haven’t heard a word or come across any sign of them. I suppose it’s a good thing that I haven’t run across their bodies. The only thing I can think of is that they were either taken or they’re still fighting somewhere ahead. The latter makes little sense—they would have called, and the chance that both of their radios are out are pretty low. But I also can’t think of why they would be hauled away while we’re being besieged like this. I do know that I have a decision coming should we ever reach the intersection.
I push one last shell into the chamber and trade places with Henderson in the front as he steps back to reload. There’s no trail visible blurring in my direction, so I take the opportunity to remove a flashbang and toss it over the heads of the Strigoi hovering several feet away.
“Flashbang out,” I yell, and brace myself.
The tunnel fills with light and a deafening noise. I’m actually surprised to be able to hear anything considering the volume of gunfire in the confined passageway. It seems our hearing compensates in some manner, but that thought is fleeting as I run forward a few feet to take down two stunned vampires. Gonzalez beside me dispatches two others behind and we move forward several more feet. In this manner, we start pushing forward in earnest, stunning the Strigoi and racing forward to take them out.
My heart stops for a brief moment when I come across a shotgun lying on the tunnel floor. When I come across the second one several feet further, I know that I won’t be finding Greg and McCafferty fighting up ahead. Deep down, I knew that would be the case—not only from the lack of radio traffic but also from the lack of gunfire and any sign of a fight. My initial thought is that I’ll stumble across their bodies within the next few yards.
Lobbing flashbangs and rushing into the gaps to eliminate vampires is how we progress. However, we sustain damage along the way as some of the creatures manage to get through and take swipes, tearing into our protective suits. Our fatigues hang in tatters in some places, the suits underneath in ribbons. I’ve had so many swipes against my neck that the protection there is essentially nonexistent. If we don’t reach the intersection soon, we’ll likely start sustaining some serious injuries. These full-blooded Strigoi are faster and more powerful than their feral kin.
“Tunnel intersection in view,” Denton radios.
“Is there any sign of Greg or McCafferty?” I inquire.
“Negative.”
“Are there any indications of a fight ahead?”
“Negative.”
Dammit!
Well, now what? We’re quickly approaching the decision I’ve been fearful of having to make. Even finding bodies would make it easier, but we just have two MIAs. Do I push us further and attempt to locate our two missing? Or do I turn down the intersection and save the four remaining? I have no doubt that we’ll run out of ammo if we continue forward, but I’m having a difficult time just abandoning Greg and McCafferty. Of course we’ll return for them, but every minute they’re gone means more distance they can be taken and more places they can be taken to. I don’t have any doubt in mind that they were captured, but the how and why remains to be known.
“How’s your ammo?” I ask, turning to look at Gonzalez.
She stares at me for a moment and then sadly shakes her head. That’s answer enough. If I push us forward, it’s inevitable that we’ll run out of ammo and that will be that.
“I’m low,” Denton replies.
“Me too,” Henderson calls.
Fuuuck!!!
“Very well. Turn for the exit at the intersection,” I radio.
“Copy,” all reply.
We reach the intersection a short time later, Henderson and Denton folding around the corner and reporting the passage empty for the time being. Gonzalez and I quickly fold around and take positions, walking backward with our shotguns held ready. Strigoi flock to the opening and start pushing against us again.
“Leap frog. Two in front fire until one is out, then turn and run beyond the other two waiting behind. Make sure we’re always working toward the well and make sure we aren’t blindsided from behind,” I call.
Streaks blur in front as the vampires renew their push. Our clothes are in tatters from where they’ve raked past us, and the protective gear we’re wearing is next to useless in many places. However, it’s literally saved our skin numerous times. But, regardless of that, it would only take one lucky strike at this point for us to fall apart. If one of us goes down, it’ll open up a hole we may not recover from. And we’re so close to the exit.
“I’m out,” Gonzalez calls from my side.
“Time to go,” I respond.
We both turn and bolt for where Henderson and Denton are ready to take over the front-line onslaught. It already seems repetitive, the vampires morphing attacks and our attempts to stay out of the way to take them down once they materialize. The two in back reload, making sure that the way remains clear, and chuck the last of our flashbangs down the tunnel toward the enraged Strigoi.
“Both of you down,” Henderson yells.
I dive down, but not before I feel talons rake across my scalp. I randomly think that I’m not going to have any hair remaining if this shit keeps up. I’ll grow old with my scalp just one giant scar. Blood flows down my head as the sting of the cuts register. The tunnel flashes twice as shotguns from the other two open up. Landing heavily on my chest and stomach, I feel a scattering of ashes fall onto where my skin is bare.
I’m just as quickly back on my feet, running past the two snipers with Gonzalez just behind. We keep on for a few more feet before slowing to reload. As we pump shells into our magazines, we continue for the exit with Gonzalez watching our way out and me focused on the two now engaged with the Strigoi.
With the attacks only occurring from one direction, we’re better able to hold them off and move more quickly. However, in my mind, each step back is another away from our two comrades. I didn’t see any great splashes of blood through our journey, but my attention was also primarily focused on staying alive and keeping the group together. Although I hope they’re still alive, I have my doubts, again wondering why these vampires would want captives.
Denton and Henderson call that they’re out and streak past. I’m kind of surprised that the creatures didn’t blockade the passage out, but I’m not going to complain. We backpedal, dodging as best we can to avoid the sharp claws from the few vampires still attacking.
“That’s it for me. I’m down to six in the mag,” Denton calls.
“Ditto,” Henderson adds.
“Each of you throw a flashbang to our front, one after the other, and then dash for the exit,” I reply.
“Copy.”
Turning to Gonzalez, I tell her, “Once those go off, turn and run. We’ll lob the rest of our flashbangs behind us as we go.”
She nods, ducking as a streak blurs past and behind her. I turn with the morphing Strigoi, anticipating where it will materialize and firing twice. My hearing is shot, but I’m somehow able to still hear the cannister clink off the rock as it tumbles down the passage. Another follows in its path as the second is thrown by Henderson. The tunnel fills with light and sound, blinding and deafening as the first goes off just a short distance away. That’s quickly repeated as the second explodes.
Shaking my head to clear the ringing, I look to find Gonzalez recovering as well. Together, we bolt down the passageway toward the exit at the bottom of the well. I toss the flashbang I was holding behind, hoping to keep the Strigoi at bay as we race for our way out.
My silhouetted shape casts a long shadow down the tunnel as the grenade detonates, then quickly fades back to normal. However, the scene repeats itself as Gonzalez’s explodes. We stumble but keep our feet as we scramble for the well. The explosions repeat as we keep tossing what we have behind us, my mind addled due to the compressive waves rolling through. All I know is that I have to reach the light. Deep down, I understand that light means safety, even if I’m not entirely sure why anymore.
“This…is my…last one,” I pant, tossing it over my shoulder.
Gonzalez just nods, runs a few more steps, and tosses another behind her.
“That’s…it for me,” she replies.
I’m surprised at her ability to keep up in light of her recent injury. I was worried that this mad sprint might prove too much, but I’ve got to give her credit, she’s a hell of a trooper. The tunnel strobes once, then twice, the sound reaching us a split second later.
“We’re here,” Denton calls from ahead.
It takes me a moment to figure out what he means, but clarity returns and I remember exactly what we’re running from and toward. I look closer and sure enough, a small amount of radiant light is filtering into the tunnel from the hole at the bottom of the well. It isn’t much, but it should prove enough to keep the Strigoi at bay.
Looking ahead, I see Henderson and Denton kneeling at the bottom.
“Start climbing,” I manage to yell even though I’m in need of every molecule of air.
Gonzalez and I crash through the opening, hitting the far wall just as Henderson clears the well. We pause there panting with hands on knees, the sunlight feeling like magic. Glancing back down the tunnel, there’s a vampire face at the very edge of the shadows. We lock eyes, the anger in the Strigoi apparent and the figure emblazoned in my mind. It then vanishes, leaving just the dark void of the tunnel behind.
“Tiger Flight, Otter Six. We’ll need a pickup for four in the village,” I radio.
“Copy Otter Six, we’ll be airborne in three, ETA ten minutes,” Tiger One replies.
“Lynn, Greg and McCafferty are MIA. No blood or bodies, so I’m presuming they’ve been captured. Are you able to ping their implants?”
“Negative, Jack,” she responds.
Well shit!
“We’re going to need to regroup and then ready ourselves to go back in after them. Is there a place nearby where you can land?”
“Angel Flight will be on station in an hour. I’ll find a place for us to set down to pick you up. I’ll also transition to that aircraft. Standby for a location.”
“Copy. We’re sending the data we collected.”
The climb up the well is difficult. Plans and ideas are swamping my brain. I’m not sure how we’ll be able to affect a rescue any better than we could have below, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to give it my best effort. We can’t wait too long. Every minute could take them further away and make it more difficult to locate them. Hauling myself out of the well, I plop down onto the dusty courtyard. I look over the surrounding terrain beyond the village. Somewhere underneath those shifting sands and sparse bushes are our two comrades.
We gather off to one side, each lost in our somber thoughts. Our shirt sleeves and underlying protective gear lie in tatters, mostly just ribbons of cloth hanging down. Blood runs slowly down from encrusted wounds but the pain and sting aren’t felt above the deeper pain. What in the hell happened down there?
Minutes later, two small dots appear near the horizon, growing larger by the second. With Tiger Two circling, Tiger One swoops down in the middle of the village, dust swirling from the downwash. Together, we dash to the chopper, which lifts off the moment we’re aboard. Keeping low to the ground, we fly to a secluded area to await word from Lynn.
* * * * * *
The shape of the gunship flying low to the ground blurs in the heat waves rising from the hot desert floor. Lynn found an old dirt road cutting through the remote area, it’s use long forgotten. The low drone of the turbo props is deep enough that it feels as if my bones should be vibrating in rhythm. Growing in clarity, the AC-130 bursts through the waves, the nose rising as the main gear searches for the first contact with the ground. It settles down as if sighing to be earthbound again, the nose gear dropping with a plop. Dust streams behind the slowing aircraft, quickly blowing forward to envelop the fuselage as reverse thrust is applied. The aircraft races past our position, slowing to a stop and turning around on a dime.
Further up the road, Angel Flight’s mains touch down; the aircraft taxis near to our position and also turns. Dust clouds drift across the desert, slowly settling. Angel Flight is parked ahead of Devil Flight at a slight angle so the prop wash blows the dirt off into the desert, thereby preserving the visibility. As the ramp is lowered, Lynn hurries off Devil Flight and walks with purpose to the back end of the other gunship. After a brief consultation with Angel Six, Lynn vanishes into the Spooky. The four of us rush up the ramp to join her.
The back starts closing as soon as we’re aboard, the clamshells closing off the outside world. The aircraft lurches as we move forward to align with the road, and as soon as we’re seated, power is applied. The 130 bumps and jostles as it rolls down the old dirt roadway, plumes of dust swirling behind from the prop blasts. The nose lifts as we become creatures of the air once again, the jostling now caused by the heat rising from the desert floor. Three minutes later, Devil Flight gets airborne and makes a climbing turn to the north.
“Any sign of Greg’s or McCafferty’s implants?” I ask as soon as we’re settled.
Lynn shakes her head.
“Then we need to get a company of Marines sent down, and we need to do it soon. We need to get back down there before they’re carried too far away,” I state.
“As much as I’d like to, you know we can’t do that, Jack. We can’t involve outside agencies,” Lynn replies.
“Then get a hold of other Organization teams.”
However, Lynn has stopped listening to me. Something on one of the monitors has caught her attention. She leans forward, her fingers flying across a keyboard.
“There,” she points to a spot on a monitor. “It was just right there.”
We remain silent. Lynn will tell us what in the hell she means in due time.
“Dammit! I had it and now it’s gone.”
“Do you care to share what you’re going on about?” I finally ask.
“McCafferty. I had a ping on her implant for just a second, but I can’t get it back. Nor am I able to garner much information from that one little hit,” Lynn answers.
We’re all now peering intently at the screen as if willing one or both of our teammates to materialize. The screen, however, hides its secrets.
“Isn’t that the solar institute?” Gonzalez queries.
“It is. The tracking ping came from the larger administration building there in the center of the complex. Due to its faint nature, I’m going to take a guess and say they’re underground—perhaps a basement,” Lynn responds.
“At least we know they’re alive,” Henderson comments.
The small office space aboard the droning aircraft goes quiet. Henderson is wrong—the blip doesn’t mean they’re alive, it just means that McCafferty’s implanted transponder was. What Lynn picked up could easily mean that’s where the bodies were deposited. If so, then we’ll at least recover them. The good thing is it doesn’t look like we’ll have to journey through those damn tunnels again.
“Oh,” Henderson quietly says when he realizes the reason for the silence. “Well, I’m holding out hope.”
“As we all are,” Lynn responds.
“Okay, let’s talk about how we’re going to get there. There’s obviously an underground passage to the admin building or we’d have picked up the transponder while they were being moved, right Lynn?” I inquire.
Lynn nods.
“We don’t know if there’s a way to the location from within the building, but I think we should attempt that entry point first. If we can’t find a way down there, then we search out where else there is access to the underground system. I think the fact that Lynn saw McCafferty’s implant is proof enough that there’s a tie-in with the institute and the underground facility. I can’t help but think that the larger tunnel leads somewhere there,” I offer.
“I agree, and will see if I can lay my hands on any building plans. You should be able to ingress via either the ground or drop in. Given the extent of the facility, we’re going to have to assume there are security systems in place,” Lynn comments.
“Do we know yet if there are any staff living there 24/7? If so, where are they staying?” I ask.
“We don’t have any indication either way. However, our initial observations showed the parking lots emptying without any activity during the night, other than four security guards we’ve identified. And they arrive in shifts from the outside,” Lynn answers.
“So we probably won’t have any employees to deal with if we go in at night,” I say.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Lynn replies.
“That’ll make it a little easier. Do we have jump gear on board?”
“We do,” Lynn states.
“Good deal. Okay, the way I see it, we drop outside of the perimeter fencing and work our way in from there. Four security guards should be easy enough to avoid, although I suspect there may be more. With what we saw during our last foray into the tunnels, they won’t leave access points unguarded. And given the nature of our foes, they won’t be in areas that have direct sunlight. That may mean going into the tunnel system at some point, so we need to be ready for that possibility.”
“What are our rules of engagement going in?” Gonzalez inquires.
“I would like to go in weapons-free. Lynn?” I ask.
“I’m fine with that, but at least try to minimize civilian casualties,” she answers. “If you can avoid the normal security guards, do so.”
“Fair enough. But I will add that it will be difficult to differentiate with surprise encounters once we’re inside. So, I’m going to say one hundred percent weapons free inside the buildings and tunnels. We can’t afford any hesitation, especially if we come across any Strigoi. What can we expect from gunship support?”
“We’ll be strictly monitoring, communications, and coordination. We can’t go tearing up the institute. If you’re away from the complex, then you’ll have firepower support,” Lynn responds.
“So, the plan is work our way into the admin building and search out a way below ground?” Gonzalez inquires.
“That’s really about it,” I answer.
“Okay, simple always works,” Gonzalez quips.
With that, we change out of our ragged clothes and clean up our wounds as best we can. We’ll slip into undamaged shark suits prior to pre-breathing for our HALO jump, but it’s time to get some rest. My mind is still churning when I climb into the bunk, worried about our two teammates, but I eventually succumb to sleep.
* * * * * *
“Jack…Jack.”
I wake to Lynn’s voice and a gentle shaking of my shoulder.
“I’m up,” I reply without opening my eyes. “Is it time?” I’m tired and could easily roll over and go back to sleep.
“No, the sun just set. But we have activity in the complex that I think you should see,” Lynn replies.
My entire body feels like one giant bruise with muscles that have decided to take on a permanent contraction. Slipping off the bunk and hitting the floor feels like stepping into a puddle of electrified water as jolts race up my body. Lynn steps off and I amble behind, the aircraft vibrating all around me.
When we step into her office space, I see what she wanted me to see right away on the monitors. A line of headlights is streaming into the complex through the main entrance. The long convoy is a mix of ten-wheeled military-style cargo trucks and flatbed semis. Watching for a moment, I see the cargo trucks enter a medium-sized receiving building while the semis are parked just outside of the same location. I watch as several cargo vehicles enter the building, which could not possibly house them all. But, the parade continues.
“I guess we now know where the wider tunnel goes,” I state.
“Apparently,” Lynn replies. “It looks like they’re about to clear out the underground facility.”
“That’s going to change our plans a little bit,” I add.
“I thought it might.”
“Okay, I’ll wake the others and let them know. I still want to drop in…just under two hours,” I say, looking at my watch.
* * * * * *
The wind roaring past is becoming an altogether too familiar feeling. I don’t think I’ve ever done as many drops like this in so few days. It’s not that I mind, but the odds of something bad happening go up with each one.
I plummet through the dark, knowing the other three are just behind, freefalling for the same destination: the roof of the admin building. The arrival of the trucks and subsequent evacuation of equipment altered our original plan for a ground entry. Although we were already planning on a HALO drop, it would have been onto a much larger target—the open desert. Now, to minimize our time on the ground, we’re descending at 120 miles per hour for a rooftop landing.
Far below but quickly growing into a larger glow is the nighttime security lighting of the institute. An area off to one side is much brighter, with spotlights illuminating flatbed semis parked in front of a building that looks like a warehouse. Cargo trucks come out of the loading facility at intervals to transfer loads onto their larger cousins, some then departing the institute. Lynn is tracking those that leave as well as possible while keeping an eye on the surrounding terrain for any glimpse of Greg and McCafferty’s beacons.
I cast all other thoughts aside as I descend, focusing on my landing point. Aside from actually hitting the target, there are HVAC systems that need to be avoided. My chute deploys with a jerk, violently slowing my two-mile-a-minute descent. Amid the hectic activity occupying one side of the institute, four dark shapes descend through the night, unseen and unheard.
I flare just above the rooftop, taking a couple of steps to completely halt my momentum. The chute flutters as I begin quickly taking in the cords to wrap it up, making room for the others floating down. A lip running around the roof is silhouetted by the lights shining below, the noise of idling trucks, forklifts, and shouts reaching my position. With a soft rustling, Gonzalez, Henderson, and Denton arrive.
I peek over the edge of the building to see that the activity near the parked semis is nonstop. Forklifts are loading crate after crate onto the flatbeds with the trucks leaving as soon as they’re filled. Whoever is orchestrating this move isn’t messing around. From their pace, it looks like they could have the entire place cleaned out in one night. That is something we’ll need to address, but tonight is not about that. It’s about locating our teammates and freeing them—or at the very least, retrieving their bodies.
Lynn wasn’t able to secure any interior plans for any of the institute’s buildings, which is suspicious in and of itself. Our hastily put together plan is therefore fairly simple—enter the admin building and work our way down to the ground level, searching for a route to take us underground. This may mean having to explore the entire floor, as I doubt the Strigoi would make it easy to enter into their domain. After all, from what Lynn could find out, there is legit research being conducted here as well.
Pushing away from the edge, we silently move toward the two doors on the rooftop, one leading into an enclosed room housing much of the HVAC equipment and another leading to a stairwell. It’s the stairs that hold our attention.
We stacked next to the door, and I withdraw a thin strip of metal much like a slim-jim. The difference is that the one I’m using has a beveled edge that I can wedge behind latches and push down to force the latch in. A heavy push down and the door pops open. Gonzalez grabs the handle and nods, pulling it all of the way open while I pour through, the barrel of my shotgun swinging to the flight of steps leading down. Nothing awaits us in the stairwell, so we start silently down.
Henderson eases the door closed, the latch engaging with a soft snick. The background noise of the loading operation quiets, leaving us in a dark stairwell with nothing other than the sounds of our soft exhalations. At the exit, I slide a thin fiberoptic tube underneath and shield the small monitor so the dim lighting doesn’t leak out.
On the other side of the door, a linoleum-floored hallway stretches to both sides. Lighting from several exit signs bathe the corridor in a soft green glow. The important thing is that it’s empty. We’re on the fourth floor and one or more of those exit signs will guide us to stairs leading down.
We’re carrying shotguns in our hands, but have modified M4s with 12.5-inch barrels and folding stocks to minimize their signature. Most of the ammo we’re carrying is for the shotguns, but even though it’s nighttime, there’s a good chance that the Strigoi have human guards for aboveground operations. We’ll need to have something with a little more range should we run across any.
Slipping into the hallway, Gonzalez and I take the lead with Henderson and Denton covering our six. She switches to her carbine but keeps her shotgun ready. Behind, Henderson does the same. This way, we’ll be ready for any eventuality as we negotiate the halls. I’d like to avoid the noise of the shotguns if at all possible. We’ll stand a much better chance of a rescue or retrieval if we can maintain the silence and keep quiet the fact that we’re in the structure for as long as possible.
Bathed in the eerie glow of the exit lights, we begin creeping down its length. Doors into offices, conference rooms, and bathrooms line both sides of the hall. The lights set outside for the removal of the underground equipment dimly silhouette the doors along one side. Periodically, stronger lighting will shine behind those doors from vehicles pulling out from the parking area.
We’re nearing one of the exit signs hanging from the ceiling when a door further down the corridor swings loudly open, the thin squeak echoing down the silent hallway. Gonzalez halts against the opposite wall, going to her knees as she brings her barrel into alignment with the door. I also drop to my knees, bringing my shotgun to bear. Who knows whether it will be human or creature that steps through. My hope is human, as my heart has had enough of the Strigoi to last me several lifetimes.
A figure steps into the hall, his posture indicating that he’s talking to someone behind him. It’s fairly easy to see the AK-47 hanging from a strap; that alone tells me that we’re dealing with human guards. I’ve yet to see any vampires wielding firearms. I hope to hell that pattern stays true, as distance and firepower have been our only real advantages.
A second figure enters, the two leaving the door and proceeding down the hall, unaware of the four dark forms kneeling against the walls. Gonzalez gives it another second or two to ensure that no one is following and then the corridor lights up with two quick strobes of light. The muffled shots of the suppressed weapon and subsonic ammo barely register as the two 6.5mm rounds strike both guards with solid thuds. Both drop to the ground, one hitting the floor back first and the other slumping straight down as if his leg bones were suddenly gone.
The clatter of their rifles hitting is loud in the stillness. Gonzalez is immediately on her feet and striding toward the two fallen bodies, placing an additional round into each one to ensure they won’t be setting off any alarms. Denton quickly unlocks one of the doors off the hall and the two bodies are dragged inside, the door then relocked. We quickly clean as much of the blood smears as we can, but we can’t take the time to do a proper job of it. Who knows if these patrolling guards will be missed? An internal clock has started and we need to move more quickly from here on out.
The exit sign we were headed toward leads to a small foyer with stairs heading down on each side to an intermediate landing. From there, a central staircase descends to the third floor, the configuration repeating itself all of the way to the first floor. The guards must have come from another stairwell near the far end of the hall, near where two glass panels enclose a glass door. From what I can tell at this distance, the office appears to be for a chief administrator.
We start down the staircase, listening for the tromp of feet that would signify that our actions were heard. As we descend, more and more of the third-floor foyer and central corridor become visible. My eyes search every dark corner and for any movement within the dim green glow of the exit lights. Where there’s one patrol, there are usually more.
Nothing appears as we descend to the third floor; the silence is almost oppressive. Although I don’t wish for anything to happen, if it’s going to, then I’d just as soon have it start. I hate the waiting game. The four of us angle for the next flight of steps down to the central staircase and the second floor.
We reach the ground level without further incident. I don’t see any sign of where the patrol would hang out, so I don’t know if they’re part of a grounds patrol or assigned to this admin building. However, I still have the timer ticking away in my head.
“Henderson, Denton, take the east side, we’ll take the west. Just as a reminder, we’re looking for any way down to a basement level. If you run across anyone and can help it, avoid firing. We don’t want to get involved in a running gun battle at this point. However, if you can safely take them out, do so. If we are discovered and can’t manage the situation, our escape route is back to the roof for extraction. We are in no way to become trapped in this building or facility. Radio if you find something,” I brief.
With a nod, the two snipers head down the corridor to the left, their dark clothing almost immediately blending in with the shadows. Gonzalez and I head in the opposite direction. She’s now responsible for our rear; my focus is to the front. An elevator almost immediately appears. The only button on the wall is an arrow up. With trepidation, I press it and watch it illuminate momentarily before going dark. The doors slide open, casting light across the hallway and up the opposite wall. I would have checked on one of the upper levels, but most of the time the elevator ends up on the first floor of a building following the day’s business and I didn’t want anyone alerted to the sound of the car being called to an upper floor.
I step quickly inside, checking the panel. Sure enough, there are buttons for floors 1-4 and no other options. I was looking for some kind of key card or other type of secured access to a subfloor, but I find nothing with my brief inspection. Hitting the door close button, I slip back outside and settle into the darkness to see if my actions were noticed. The door closes behind me with a ding, leaving the hallway as before. I’m disappointed at not finding a quick solution to getting underground, but not surprised that access to it wouldn’t be that easy. Even if they can’t use it, people notice secure ways to go where they aren’t allowed and I’m guessing that the Strigoi don’t want anyone to become curious. I would guess that very few people who work here know what lies underneath.
My fear is that we won’t find a way underground and that the ping under the building was just a coincidence. If so, that means we’ll have to infiltrate the project currently underway outside and locate the entrance to the specific tunnel that runs under the structure. I can’t imagine that will be easy. Who knows what role the Strigoi are taking in this move? Even though the guards we took down on the fourth floor were human, it could be that the figures we observed from the roof are all vampires.
“Sir, you might want to check this out,” Denton radios after another five minutes of searching.
“What do you have?” I inquire.
“It looks like an old freight elevator that heads down. And I say old because dust covers everything in here, including the doors,” Denton answers.
“We’re on our way.”
It takes only a couple of minutes to locate Henderson and Denton. Sure enough, the elevator is located in an old storeroom with crates and boxes lying around haphazardly and coated in thick layers of dust, as Denton described. They had to snap a padlock to effect entry, and walking through the room just invites a series of sneezes. Their tracks are the only ones showing on the dusty floor, an indication that this room hasn’t been used in some time. The more interesting aspect of the elevator is the dust-coated keypad located where the call buttons should be. Greenish light shows through the grime, indicating that the panel is active.
“We need to get back to that administrator’s office on the fourth floor,” I say. “If anyone is going to have a keycard for this, it will be in there. We also need to search those bodies more thoroughly.”
I hate wasting time to backtrack, but there isn’t really a choice. I should have checked the bodies while we were there, but I was in a rush to locate our two missing teammates. Together, we make our way back up the stairs to the fourth floor. The bodies don’t reveal any keycards, so Denton makes short work of the lock on the glass door and we move inside the administrator’s office.
The interior consists of a greeting foyer complete with plush carpeting and a desk situated adjacent to the only other door in the room—a thick wooden one. Light from the operation outside radiates into the room, casting bookcases and wooden filing cabinets in contrasting dapples of light and shadow. Inside of the office, it doesn’t take much rummaging through drawers to locate a lanyard-wrapped keycard. Top-level administrators usually have access to the most secure areas, but don’t want to be carrying their access cards around. Therefore, access to the secure areas can usually be found within a top administrator’s desk—most of the time in an unlocked drawer.
With the keycard secured, we work our way back down to the ground-level storeroom. The room smells of disuse, with old furniture and crates piled about the room. Even the elevator is tucked behind a stack of old desks covered with a heavy tarp. On first glance, anyone entering the room wouldn’t have known the elevator was even there, so kudos to Henderson and Denton for even locating it.
Brushing the dust from the surface of the card reader, I slide the keycard through the slot. Without a change in lighting intensity or color, the reader faintly beeps once and the elevator doors slide open. Unlike the elevator in the hallway, the light isn’t bright. The inside is only faintly lit by a red bulb.
After carefully looking through the interior, we step inside. This is where my anxiety starts creeping upward. Although I don’t see any cameras, that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. And we’re trapped within a very confined area that will open into an unknown. There isn’t any trapdoor on the roof of the car or any other place to hide ourselves. We’ll just have to jump aboard and ride through what awaits at the other end.
Swiping the card on the interior card reader closes the large door, and the elevator starts to descend. There aren’t any buttons to push, so this trip only has one destination. Hopefully it doesn’t emit a loud ding or sound an alarm upon reaching the bottom.
Henderson and I are kneeling on opposite sides of the door with our shotguns trained on the opening, ready to engage any Strigoi that might be waiting for us. At the back and against each corner, Gonzalez and Denton stand ready with their carbines. This is definitely not my preferred method for entering an unknown situation, and hopefully we’ll be able to present enough firepower to either ascend back to the top or fight our way clear of this confined space.
It seems like forever. I can’t see us going much deeper than the tunnel at the bottom of the well, but I could be wrong. I feel my stomach muscles clench as the elevator finally slides to a halt. Bathed in the eerie red light, we wait for the inevitable opening of the doors.
The large doors part and slide silently open, revealing a rock tunnel much like the one we previously journeyed through. My finger tightens on the trigger in anticipation, my eyes wide. Nothing stands on the other side to oppose us, and we quickly flow out of the car, Denton going left and me going right. The other two exit behind.
The tunnel extends in both directions, the passageway ending at a rock wall at the edge of my vision. One side of the corridor holds a series of steel doors, one of them slightly ajar. The other end of the tunnel extends into darkness, suggesting a lengthy passageway. Behind, the elevator doors hiss shut. We find ourselves again in the realm of darkness, the habitat of the Strigoi.
There are faint sounds coming from the door that’s cracked open. It’s difficult to tell exactly what is making the noise, but it has my immediate attention. As we move off toward the opening, Gonzalez and Henderson switch to their shotguns as well. Anything we run into down here is more than likely not going to be human.
Inching toward the door with shotguns out and trigger fingers itching to send a shell out at anything that emerges, we silently close in. Gone are the thoughts about the clearing operation underway somewhere underground. Gone are the memories of our previous fights in these tunnels. Our focus is entirely on our current surroundings, on retrieving our comrades.
Stacked next to the door, I slide the end of the fiberoptic cable around the edge, again hiding any glare from the small screen. Inside are two Strigoi, one standing in the center of the room and the other near a figure chained to one of the walls. At first I think that it’s another vampire being held captive for some reason, but then realize I’m looking at the naked form of Greg. The creature next to him is holding Greg’s head in his taloned hands, its face just inches away.
Another smaller figure is also manacled to the far wall. It’s a lot easier to identify McCafferty as her light skin seems to glow in the darkness. Her head is hanging down, her dark hair limply dangling in front of her face. Like Greg, she’s been stripped of her clothing. A closer look at their bodies reveals that they appear to have sustained horrible beatings. From the looks of things, it’s good we’ve arrived when we have.
My heart soars a notch at finding them alive and mostly unguarded. I guess the Strigoi didn’t expect us to be able to find them so readily. Perhaps they thought any beacons would be with their clothing, not imaging they were implanted. Lucky for us.
I put away the camera and notify the others of what I witnessed. We’ll have to be careful going in with weapons blazing as I don’t want to injure our teammates. They look close to death already and I don’t want to do anything that might send them over the edge.
Two full-blood Strigoi against the four of us, and we actually have the surprise factor on our side. I’m fairly confident we can take them down in short order, but am wary of being overconfident. Gonzalez stands ready at the door with us stacked along the rocky wall. It feels warm even though the cool stone presses against my shoulder. With a deep breath, rehearsing my next few movements in my mind, I nod to Gonzalez.
She flings the door open and I flow inside, heading to the right and the greater part of the room. A quick glance shows no others hidden in the dark corners of the room hewn from the stone. My shotgun is up and trained on the vampire standing in the middle. I hear the tread of Henderson and Denton entering quickly behind, and then Gonzalez.
I’m barely able to track the vampire in the middle as it morphs almost as soon as we enter. The dark streak is heading for the doorway and I see Gonzalez duck just after she enters to avoid the swipe of claws. However, the Strigoi’s move wasn’t an attack—it flows out of the room and momentarily reappears in the corridor. Then it’s gone in another flash of heat, heading down the tunnel in the direction we came from.
I stop in my tracks.
Oh shit!
“Take care of the other one,” I order, turning and racing for the entrance.
Reaching the door, I go low and jump into the passageway, anticipating the swipe of a taloned hand. There’s nothing in the tunnel for the length of my vision. The Strigoi is gone, and that’s not good news. I’m quite sure there are about to be a shit ton more pouring back into the tunnel directly for us.
Suppressed shotgun blasts emanate from the room, light strobing out of the open door to splash against the tunnel walls.
“Clear,” I hear Gonzalez call.
Stepping back into the room, now filled with the lingering aroma of gunpowder, I see that a cloud of ash is settling to the floor.
“The other one escaped. We’re on a very short clock here,” I say. “Henderson, Denton, you have the big man. Gonzalez, you’ll help with McCafferty.”
Denton looks at the big form of Greg, hanging from manacled wrists. “You’re going to owe us for this.”
I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or to Greg, but I gather he’s not altogether eager to carry a giant naked man. I can’t really say that I blame him. One of the privileges of rank. The shackles are only pins rather than locks, which makes releasing them much easier. Henderson and Denton release Greg and get ready to carry him. Greg stands upright, albeit wobbly, and shoves them away.
“I can make my own way,” he weakly says.
“I’m good with that,” Denton replies.
“Where are my clothes…and a weapon,” Greg breathes through a mouth tightened with pain.
Henderson hands Greg his carbine. “That’s about the best I can do.”
“That’ll work,” Greg responds, snatching the M4.
He then starts determinedly for McCafferty to see how she’s doing. Now, I’m not sure that I’ve seen anything scarier than a large, naked Greg marching with purpose while his hands grasp a carbine. I don’t blame the Strigoi for running.
McCafferty falls against Gonzalez, her head resting on her shoulder.
“What took you so long?” McCafferty breathes through a bloodied mouth.
“Sorry, Jack insisted that we had to make a quick stop at Quiznos,” Gonzalez answers.
“Did you bring me anything?”
“I had something for you, but Jack ate it,” Gonzalez replies.
“Thank you,” McCafferty breathes, standing upright. “I can walk if you have some water.”
Gonzalez removes her canteen and hands it over.
“Tick tock, everyone. Are you two sure you can walk? We’ll be setting a fast pace,” I say, breaking up the reunion.
McCafferty draws deeply from the canteen, pouring some over her sweat-soaked hair. “I can go as fast as need be.”
Greg checks that there’s brass in the chamber and nods.
“I’ll lead, Gonzalez is second. Then anyone who is naked, followed by Henderson and Denton. Let’s move,” I say.
We enter the tunnel, looking to where the passageway turns into a dark void at the limits of our vision. I expect a horde of vampires to materialize out of the darkness at any moment, cutting our rescue attempt short. I try calling Lynn or any Tiger flights, to no avail. We are just too far underground for our comms to work.
We fly for the elevator, racing against the moment when the Strigoi will appear. Greg and McCafferty, for all of their bravado, attempt to keep up but stumble repeatedly from the pain of their beatings. I slow as I don’t want Gonzalez and at least one of the others to have to assist and thus lower our firepower.
We reach the elevator with no sound other than the quiet whispers of the tunnel. I slide the card and the doors hiss open. The six of us stumble inside; using the card on the inside reader closes the doors. With a small jolt, the elevator starts its ascent back to the surface.
This, again, is the most worrisome part. We’re trapped in this small cube, potentially facing creatures that can morph right through the walls. If one gets in here, we’re pretty much toast. There’s no room to maneuver our shotgun barrels or get out of the way of the rending claws.
The ride seems like an eternity, a life lived with each foot climbed. It’s unnerving knowing that there’s potentially a horde of vampires heading our way and the walls of our little prison would not do much to stop them from getting to us. Knowing that the shotguns won’t help within the confines of the elevator, I stow mine and pull out two of the compressed air knives.
The elevator comes to a jarring halt, the doors sliding open to reveal the storage room as it was before. We race out of the car, aligning ourselves as before. Sheathing my knives and again carrying my shotgun, I make for the door. My hope is that this elevator shaft is the only connection between this building and the tunnels running beneath us. Aside from those working to clear the facility of its equipment, we shouldn’t run into any of the Strigoi I imagine are streaming toward our position. Of course, that doesn’t mean they won’t use the larger tunnels to make their way to the surface quickly.
We hit the hallway running, our pounding boots echoing down its length. I don’t care about stealth at this point—speed is our priority.
“Lynn, we have Greg and McCafferty, injured but alive and moving on their own…Break…Tiger Flight, Otter Six. We’re going to need an immediate extraction for six from the roof of the admin building. We’ll be on top in two minutes,” I radio.
“Copy that, Otter Six; we’re airborne and heading your way. ETA five minutes,” Tiger One replies.
“There’s a beer in it for ya if you can shave that time,” I respond.
“We’ll shove it into afterburner for you…ETA is now four minutes, forty-five seconds.”
Great! That will leave us on the roof for over two minutes. I know the others heard the same conversation so there’s no need to inform them to be ready for a fight. Greg and McCafferty won’t be much help, but I’ll make sure they have carbines and ammo. However, against the Strigoi, it will be the shotguns that matter.
At the interior elevator, I slap the “up” button on my way past, settling a few feet beyond to cover that end of the hallway. The doors immediately slide open with a ding, light from the inside again spilling out into the hall. I would run up the stairs so as not to trap ourselves in another elevator, but I’m hoping I can throw off any pursuit by sending the car back down once we reach the fourth floor. It may not be effective, but I’m down to grasp at any straw thrown my way at this point. Plus, we have two wounded who might be slow on the stairs.
It would be even more surreal if we were subjected to elevator music, but it’s already weird enough being in this “normal” environment with the likelihood of vampires pursuing us. We exit on the fourth floor and I hit the second-floor button before dashing out into the corridor. Together, we make our way to the stairwell heading to the rooftop, where our boots reverberate loudly in the concrete-enclosed area, our panting breaths adding to the noise.
We break onto the roof, the twinkling stars overhead almost teasing us. As before, lights still shine from where the equipment is being loaded amid shouts and machinery. Closing the door, I remove a wedge from my pack and jam it between the door and jamb. That won’t stop the Strigoi from getting to our position, but there’s no need to provide them with free access. They’ll have to burn energy morphing through the heavy steel door or the thick concrete enclosing the stairwell. Plus, they’ll have to take a quick moment to orient themselves and locate us. That will give us a tremendous advantage.
“Tiger Flight, Otter Six. We’re on the roof.”
“Copy. Facility is in sight. ETA, two-plus minutes.”
“I have you all in sight, Jack. No sign of pursuit from the equipment removal operation,” Lynn radios.
“Let’s just hope it stays that way for another three minutes,” I respond.
We set up in a semi-circle around the door at a distance. Seeing what Greg and McCafferty endured nearly breaks my heart. I’ll eventually learn what in the hell happened to them, but we’ll have to stay alive for another two minutes first.
A blurred streak, difficult to see in the dark of night, emerges from the jammed door. I can barely track it as it materializes into a Strigoi about six feet from the exit. Shotguns and carbines come alive and I doubt the vampire even had time to register where it was before it falls in a cloud of smoke. However, more emerge from the stairwell. The horde of vampires I had been fearing have found us.
The roof immediately comes alive, Strigoi materializing to be met with volleys of gunfire. The first to appear vanish in flashes of heat, our shotguns tearing into them when they transition. The area in front of the stairwell door becomes lit with faint strobes of light from the shotgun blasts and dimmed by ash settling to the ground. The vampires are coming through at such a rate that the gunfire is nearly continuous. The good thing is that I doubt the workers below can hear our muffled shots over the sound of their idling semis and moving forklifts.
I track one dark blur as best I can, knowing that I’m going to have to stop and reload soon. Unfortunately, with the way we’ve all been firing, we’ll all probably reach that point at the same time. The blur halts, transitioning into a black-cloaked Strigoi. I fire into its chest, the vampire launching backward from the close-range blast. While still in midair, the figure dissolves into ash, vanishing in a flash of heat. However, I barely register the death of yet another one as my focus changes to another blur coming out from the stairwell.
One minute to go.
Slowly but inexorably, we’re pushed back toward the edge of the roof. There are just too many coming now to keep at bay with only four shotguns. Greg and McCafferty are doing their best with the carbines, but the 6.5mm rounds just aren’t as effective. Some of the vampires are now able to materialize and somewhat orient themselves before being taken down. It won’t be long now before they’re able to launch a direct attack, and then this fight will become a brawl. If it turns into that, extraction will become very difficult at best.
Thirty seconds.
I slam another shell into the mag, racking one home. I’m barely able to get off a shot at a materializing vampire in time. I notice one transition and quickly look about, morphing again almost immediately. I duck and step to the side as quickly as I can, but not before feeling the sting of talons.
Turning with the morphing creature, I fire into its chest as soon as it becomes visible. The vampire is launched over the edge of the roof, turning to ash before it hits the ground forty feet below. I had no idea we had been backed this close to the edge.
Above the sound of gunfire and the shrieks from the vampires, I start picking up the heavy beat of rotors. I quickly glance toward the others. We’re still holding a line, but it’s very tenuous. Four of us are at the front with Greg and McCafferty holding behind. I notice that they’ve discarded their M4s in favor of the compressed knives. I’m guessing they took those from the others at some point during this fight.
We’re pushed another step back. Our backs are nearly to the very edge and the attacks are becoming more coordinated. All of a sudden, I feel the wash of rotor blades and pick up the overwhelming odor of jet fuel. A dark object slides quickly alongside the roof, the red glow of the cockpit lighting illuminating the helmeted visages of the pilots. A door gunner crouches behind a mini-gun, the barrel pivoting back and forth but without a clear lane of fire.
“All of you—go!” I yell.
“Sir, I can take the next ride out with you,” Gonzalez replies.
She’s already picked up on the fact that only five of us will fit in the chopper and that I have the intention of remaining behind for Tiger Two.
“I’m not going to argue with you about this—I said Go!”
Greg and McCafferty have already jumped aboard, their naked bodies moving to the far side to make room for more. Henderson and Denton both disengage and hop aboard. Gonzalez looks at me for a second and then shakes her head before climbing aboard the Seahawk hovering alongside the building.
As soon as she’s on, the helicopter banks away and picks up altitude. Several Strigoi launch out into space in an attempt to get at them, but all fall short, plummeting into the dark toward the ground. I have no illusion that the fall will kill them, but they’re out of the fight momentarily and that’s all that really matters to me now.
I’m now left with a new onslaught of vampires that are beginning to emerge in force from within the stairwell. I won’t last long up here alone, but the others are away, so I’m good with that.
“Tiger Two, park yourself on the opposite side,” I call.
I won’t last here long enough for the second chopper to swoop in. The only thing I can hope for is to move fast enough to stay alive for just a few more seconds.
“Copy that…coming in now.”
I dash away from my position, feeling claws lightly rake my back as I run. I run through where the Strigoi are materializing past the door, hoping to use the moment of confusion while they reorient themselves. Dark blurs streak all around me and I catch vampires becoming visible in my periphery. It’s kind of like running through tendrils of smoke from a hundred campfires.
I’m through the area but I’m not under any illusion that I’m safe. It won’t take long for them to orient themselves and locate me. Ahead, the dark object that is the MH-60R swings into view, coming into a hover next to the building top.
I stumble forward as one of the creatures swipes my neck full on, the shark suit becoming a tattered mess. I’m thankful for the one save that the modified suit allows, or I’d be lying in a growing puddle right now.
Catching my balance just in time, I vault onto the ledge surrounding the roof and leap into the chopper. I slide across the floor and come to rest against the far door. As I look across the helicopter’s floor from my position, the roof is alive with vampires, either materializing or morphing. It looks like a nest of snakes all writhing together. The view tilts as the chopper banks away, but I catch one of the vampires at the edge of the roof, standing still and staring directly at me. Although they all look alike to me, I swear this is the same one I made eye contact with as the four of us were exiting the tunnel system through the well.
Vampires plunge into the air in their attempts to reach us, but like the others leaping for Tiger One, they all fall short. They look like Wile E. Coyote as they materialize over empty air and plummet out of sight.
“Gonzalez, you all okay?” I radio.
“Copy that, sir. Greg and McCafferty will require some medical attention, but we’re all alive.”
“Very well. Lynn, six extracted. Let’s go home.”
* * * * * *
Lynn managed to track many of the vehicles to several remote warehouses where it’s believed the equipment was offloaded and stored. There’s always the remote chance that they continued their journey via underground passages, but Lynn remains certain the equipment is still there.
The two aircraft taxied onto the runway, their noses bowing with the brakes. The stars shining down on the clear night glittered off the calm waters to the south. On a signal, the two F-15E strike fighters ran their engines up, four streams of fire blowing to the rear. The powerful aircraft shook, longing to be unchained. With a release of the brakes, the two aircraft shot forward, rapidly gaining speed as they powered down the runway. As if they were one creature, the two Strike Eagles gracefully lifted clear, their gear quickly tucked away. The transformance from an earthbound creature into their natural environment was complete.
Banking away from Eglin AFB, the two climbed out over the Gulf of Mexico, turning to the west once the lights of the Florida shoreline were far away. On through the night they flew, completing checks and radioing checkpoints. Their mission seemed a strange one, but the pilots and weapons system operators alike did not question it. They were to drop two Enhanced GBU-28 bunker buster bombs on Mexican soil, a demonstration to the Mexican military of their capabilities. The thought of why they were conducting the test at night was but a fleeting one as they neared the eastern shoreline of Mexico.
The radio call of “feet dry” was answered by a female voice, acknowledging the transmission and informing the two aircraft that they were cleared to the target. With the checks completed, the aircraft separated, lining up in trail a minute behind as they neared the initial approach fix. At the final approach fix, they were cleared in hot from the same voice. At 0214, the first of the bunker busters separated from the mother aircraft, the built-in GPS system taking over. A minute later, the second one was pulled by gravity as it starting falling earthbound.
Something large impacted the desert floor, driving deep underground. Seconds later, the earth trembled as the explosive charge detonated, bringing down tons of rock and filling the underground chamber. The second bomb finished the process, leaving a crater with cracks radiating away in the middle of a desert area near an old abandoned village. A nearby solar institute, already reeling from the abrupt resignation of several top administrators, checked over their equipment, fearing the tremors of the earthquake might have caused some damage.
* * * * * *
The dark waters of the Pacific are abruptly disturbed as a cylindrical object powers through the surface like a newly awakened creature of the deep. Water sprays back to the gentle swells with a loud hiss. The stillness is further broken by a roar as a tongue of fire erupts from the rear of the object, launching it skyward.
The Tomahawk sea-launched cruise missile, the fire from its engine lighting the sea around, picks up speed as it soars into the night. The light extinguishes as the missile transitions to its ram-jet. A second one rises on the heels of the first, the trail of fire lifting into the darkness. Others follow as if the gates of hell have been opened.
Thirty minutes later, the volley of missiles crosses the western shores of Mexico in several remote locations. The missiles navigate their way to their destination, weaving in and out of valleys. At 0214, the first of the missiles strike their targets. The single charge detonates in a remote building storing newly arrived crates of equipment. The follow-on cruise missile scatters its contents, the night filling with a rapid sequence of light and sound as the cluster munitions destroy what the first missile missed. Across the Mexican landscape, one remote warehouse after another is demolished, the equipment that was recently brought from underground utterly destroyed.