Van Dyne's Vampires

by C W Hawes

  Mostyn’s tactical earplugs muted the boom to a dull thud. He slowly stood up. The doorway and half the wall was one great big gaping hole.

  He waved his arm. “Let’s go!”

  NicAskill followed him to the stairwell. The security personnel that hadn’t been vaporized, showed severe burns and shrapnel damage from flying pieces of the exploding wall. Sprawled out on the stairs going down, there was an odd looking creature.

  “Look at that, sir. Reminds me of the ogres I’ve seen in video games.”

  “It sure as hell ain’t Shrek. C’mon.” Mostyn started up the stairs, paused, looked back at NicAskill and said, “Video games?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He shook his head, and ran up the stairs. Muzzle flashes and pinging bullets indicated a security detail was coming up the stairwell behind them. On the landing for the ninth floor, Mostyn stopped, took off his backpack and opened the top. He reset the timer, pressed the activation button, and heaved the thing over the stair railing. A bullet grazed his vest, and knocked him down.

  The incendiary explosion shot flames up the center of the stairwell. NicAskill helped Mostyn to his feet, then opened the door to the room on the ninth floor, and pulled the trigger on the M-88. The lightning bolt melted glass and steel and the thunder boom blew out the windows. Moments later the thermite bomb on the eighth floor exploded, the stairwell momentarily illuminated in the brilliant flash of light.

  “Are you alright, sir?”

  “I’m fine, Kymbra, let’s go.”

  Up the stairs they ran, and burst out onto the roof. They paused a moment to catch their breath, and that’s when they saw them.

  “Looks like we got company, sir.”

  “I see that.”

  The two agents hit the hard surface of the roof as the three two-headed ogre-like beings opened fire with their machine guns. Bullets ricocheted off the cuboid structure, and smacked into the asphalt around them.

  There was a pause as the mutant creatures reloaded. Mostyn and NicAskill where up, firing their silenced pistols. One of the things went down, the others returned fire sending Mostyn and NicAskill back to hugging the asphalt.

  Mostyn heard Langston say, “The cavalry in four, three, two, one.”

  Fifty-caliber machine gun fire rent the night. SNOB-1, bow angled down, was a hundred feet above the building. Bullets showered the roof and the ogre things fell in a heap, blood and fragments of bone spraying out over the roof.

  Mostyn and NicAskill were up and running to the abseil lines hanging from the blimp’s gondola.

  From out of the north emergency entrance came a small army of things that hell would refuse entrance.

  The two agents grabbed the lines, and they heard Langston’s voice say, “Hold on!”

  Ballast dropped from the blimp and soaked Mostyn and NicAskill. The propellers started spinning faster and the blimp made a sharp turn, flying away from the building, and into the New Jersey night.

  2

  Two Months Later

  The phone in Mostyn’s pocket was ringing. He rolled the creeper out from under the Columbia Six and fished the thing out of his pocket.

  “Mostyn.”

  Helene Dubreuil rolled her creeper out from under the car and looked with wide-eyed wonderment at the oil coating her finger. After a moment, she stuck her finger in her mouth at the same time Mostyn yelled, “Don’t!”

  Then to the phone, he said, “No, not you, sir.”

  He heard a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Helene must be with you.”

  “Ooh, Mostyn Pierce, what a new experience!”

  Dr Rafe Bardon’s burst of laughter caused Mostyn to hold the phone away from his ear.

  “What is she experiencing now?”

  “Motor oil,” Mostyn said. “I swear, she’s like a kid. Sticks everything in her mouth.”

  “Ah, that’s what my sister always said about her children.”

  Huh, Mostyn thought, never knew Bardon had family. Wonders never cease.

  Bardon continued, “I have a case for you. Come in as soon as possible. Helene, too.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After a pause, Bardon said, “Motor oil isn’t good for you, is it?”

  “No, sir. No need to worry. She just licked a little off her finger.”

  “Oh, good. Well, then, goodbye.”

  Mostyn put the phone back in his pocket. To Helene he said, “Bardon. We have a case. He wants us ASAP.”

  She turned to him. “Oh, good, more new experiences! Mostyn Pierce, I’m so glad I came to your world.” She hugged him and kissed him. “I feel so, so alive!”

  Mostyn looked at the tall, pale-skinned, and dark-haired woman next to him, and smiled. She was literally out of this world, for Helene Dubreuil, the former H’tha-dub, was from the subterranean world of K’n-yan. She was human, but not homo sapiens. Her people having come to earth with the Great Old Ones eons ago.

  He touched her face. So beautiful. She jumped up and extended her hand to him. He took it and pulled her back down to him.

  “Oh, Mostyn Pierce, are you going to make Dr Bardon wait?”

  “He said as soon as possible, not immediately.”

  “You are a devil, Mostyn Pierce.” She pressed her lips to his, and there was no more talking.

  ***

  Dr Rafe Bardon sat behind his large and heavy black walnut desk. His office was decorated in nineteenth century British men’s club, which suited him and his British accent. He puffed on his pipe. The air smelled of sweet Virginia tobacco.

  Across from him sat Mostyn and Helene. They were listening to the OUP director’s telling of the legend of the Jersey Devil.

  “Legend is always based on some nugget of fact, a tiny truth, which grows with the telling and eventually takes on a life of its own. And so a dislike of the Leeds family produced Leeds Devil, which eventually became the infamous Jersey Devil.

  “An odd looking creature. Supposedly having the head of a goat, bat-like wings, small arms with claws for hands, cloven hooves for feet, and a forked tail. And I might add that it goes without saying the creature moves very quickly and emits a blood-curdling scream.”

  “There is a creature similar to this in K’n-yan,” Helene said.

  Bardon looked surprised, and he hardly ever did so. “Really, Helene?”

  She nodded.

  “Very interesting. Perhaps…” Bardon sat for a moment, hands folded on his desk, face cast upwards. To Mostyn he had the look of a person pondering something. Then the director leaned back in his chair and continued.

  “Of more recent origin and having a wider geographical distribution is the legend of the chupacabra. The notorious “goat-sucker”, first sighted in Puerto Rico in 1995. Since then sightings have occurred as far north as Maine and as far south as Chile. With additional sightings in Russia and the Philippines.”

  “What does this thing look like, sir?” Mostyn asked.

  “Supposedly it is a heavy creature, about the size of a small bear, with a row of spines along its back.”

  “Is it an alien?” Mostyn replied.

  “Something that is not naturally occurring on this planet? Something that is from off world?” Bardon asked.

  Mostyn nodded.

  “Possibly, Mostyn. Possibly. I’m inclined not to think so, however, because 1995 is three years after we learned of Van Dyne Corporation’s experiments. Then, again, it might be a rare coincidence.”

  Mostyn shrugged.

  “Precisely. Your mission is to determine what’s behind the current rash of sightings.”

  “I haven’t heard of any sightings,” Mostyn said.

  Helene was all smiles and filled with an excitement that reminded Mostyn of a child in a toy store. “That is because you do not spend time on the internet, my dearest. I learn so much of this world and I never have to leave the house.”

  Bardon smiled. “Very true.”

  Helene went on. “The earth is flat and it is a ball. There is a
woman in New York who weighs two thousand pounds and hasn’t moved in ten years. All the glaciers are melting and the next Ice Age is going to happen very soon. In fact, we are overdue for it. In K’n-yan our water never froze. I did not know it could do such a thing!”

  Mostyn touched her hand. “The chupacabra?”

  “Yes, yes. The goat-sucker creature. I have seen reports on dailymeteor.co.uk, the dazzle.com, foxnews.com, and YouTube. It has been seen in Belarus, North Carolina, western Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and New Jersey. All in the past three years.”

  Bardon’s eyes twinkled. “Very good, Helene. I had best be careful. You might be taking over my job one of these days.”

  “Oh, no, sir. Never!”

  Bardon slid a folder across his desk towards Mostyn, who leaned forward in his chair and retrieved it.

  “The sightings on the Arizona and New Mexico border, those in North Carolina, and also New Jersey appear to have the most validity, so start there,” Bardon said. “You’ll meet your other team members at the Osage tonight. I’ll let you decide how to proceed from there.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mostyn said.

  Bardon stood. “A pleasure seeing you again, Helene. And you, as well, Pierce. Good luck.”

  On the way out of the building, Mostyn paged through the folder and found the list of team members. There, at the top of the list, was Dr Dotty Kemper.

  Mostyn groaned and wondered what on earth Bardon was thinking.

  3

  In a small meeting room at the Osage Hotel, Mostyn looked over the group of people assigned to him for this mission.

  He knew Willie Lee Baker, their photographer, and special agent DC Jones, from previous missions. He also knew Dr Dotty Kemper, perhaps the top forensic anthropologist on the planet, and OUP consultant Helene Dubreuil, because he was in an odd polyamorous relationship with the two women. A relationship he suspected of having been engineered by Dr Bardon to keep his “best” people available for missions.

  The three he didn’t know had a long history with the OUP, and Mostyn found that comforting. No newbies on this mission.

  Dr Roderick Gerstner was a mythologist and one of Bardon’s “go to” persons. He was forty-seven, six feet tall, and wore glasses. He and his wife, Connie, had three children.

  Dr Anthony Penn was a forensic veterinarian, and one of the best in the field. He was thirty-nine, six-one, wore glasses, and was built like a boxcar. He had a wife and two children.

  Agent Carter Ramsey was a tech genius and was along to help with specialized surveillance.

  Mostyn greeted the men and introduced them to the other team members. When introductions were completed, Mostyn addressed the team.

  “After looking over the material Dr Bardon has provided, I’ve decided we’ll start our investigation in the southwest.”

  Dr Gerstner interrupted. “Why there? Why not in New Jersey or North Carolina? After all, they’re closer.”

  Dotty Kemper answered. “Because, Rod, he’s saving the best for last. That’s how Mostyn works.”

  A frown descended on Gerstner’s face, but he didn’t say anything. Mostyn continued.

  “What we know about the latest appearances and attacks of the chupacabra is that outwardly they conform to previous reports. What is different this time is that we have surveillance camera verification of a sizable creature attacking and draining the blood of sheep and cattle. We’ve also secured two sheep carcasses and a cow carcass which Dr Penn has been able to examine. What can you tell us, Dr Penn?”

  Anthony Penn leaned back in his chair. He had an almost bored expression on his face. Mostyn couldn’t tell if he was truly bored or just happened to look that way.

  Penn said, “The animals had been physically attacked and manhandled. It appears they were actually held down while the blood was taken, which implies the chupacabra has great strength. There was a single wound at the throat: a circular bruise with four puncture marks. The animals I examined had lost over ninety-five percent of their blood.”

  “How long had they been dead?” Gerstner asked.

  “The cow two days and the sheep one,” Penn replied.

  “What was the state of the carcasses?” Dotty asked.

  “The decay was moderately advanced,” Penn said. “There was also scavenger damage.”

  “Could that account for blood loss?” Gerstner asked.

  “Yes, it could,” Penn replied.

  “How much?” Dotty asked.

  Penn shrugged. “I think the chupacabra took most of the blood. After all it was there first and made the kill. There was little blood on the ground, which leads me to believe the chupacabra drank the blood, leaving little for the scavengers to consume or spread around.

  “One other item of note, other than the damage inflicted in taking down the animals, it seems the chupacabra inflicted no other injuries save for the neck wound. The other damage to the carcasses was consistent with scavenger damage. That seems to imply the creature prefers its prey to be living, rather than dead.” He then folded his hands on his stomach. Mostyn took that as an indication he was finished speaking.

  “Anything else for Dr Penn?” Mostyn asked. There were no further questions.

  Mostyn continued, “We’re done for tonight. Make sure you read your reports. Tomorrow morning we’ll be flying out of the Anacostia-Bolling airbase at ten o’clock. Don’t be late. Good night.”

  The men filed out, Baker and Jones, however, stayed a moment to chat with Mostyn, Dotty, and Helene. Then they, too, left.

  Helene hugged Dotty and kissed her cheeks. “My sister, how are you?”

  “I’m not your sister,” Dotty replied, “and I’m fine.”

  Puzzled, Helene said, “It is a term of endearment. You do not like?”

  Dotty waved her hand. “Never mind.” To Mostyn she said, “What was Bardon thinking?”

  Mostyn shrugged. “The family that works together, stays together?”

  Dotty shook her head, and turned to Helene. “You’re okay with this?”

  “The three of us working together?”

  Dotty nodded.

  “Oh, yes! It is a new experience!”

  Mostyn chuckled and Dotty rolled her eyes.

  Helene continued, “There are so many new experiences here in your world. It is so exciting. I could live forever, although I won’t. I will die when my husband dies. But I love your world. For nine hundred years…” She sighed, then her face brightened. “I am working with Dr Bardon to see if we can expand your lifespans. If we can, then I will get to live much longer with my husband and my sister.”

  “Stop calling him that. And I’m not your sister.”

  Helene had a big smile on her face, but there was an edge to the tone of her voice. “Dr Bardon will use his ancient Egyptian magic again, if he has to. So play nice, little sister.”

  Dotty glowered at her.

  Mostyn bowed his head and massaged his temples. After a moment, he lifted his head and spoke. “Look, ladies, let’s get along. Shall we? Otherwise, this is going to be one very unpleasant mission.”

  “Sure, Mostyn. I promise I’ll play nice.”

  “Good, Dot. Now let’s get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow.”

  Walking out to his car, Mostyn couldn’t help but wonder how Bardon thought this threesome would work. Initially Dotty had been okay with it, but of late… Well, time would tell if ancient Egyptian magic could tame Dotty Kemper.

  4

  With Jones at the wheel, the big black SUV burned up the miles following US 60 to the east and north from Phoenix. Their destination was a ranch outside the town of Foster, Arizona.

  Bill and Judy Young owned an old spread of two hundred and eighty acres in Arizona just across from the Gila National Forest. They had a large herd of dairy goats and a small herd of milking shorthorns. They had also had a visit from the chupacabra.

  In the front passenger seat sat Mostyn. In the second row of seats were Helene, Penn, and Gerstner. In the t
hird row, Dotty, Ramsey, and Baker. As usual Baker was busy taking photos, in this case of the countryside.

  Helene regaled the men sitting next to her with stories of life in the subterranean world of K’n-yan. Mostyn was looking over the computer files of all the reported sightings and attacks of both the chupacabra and the Jersey Devil. Dotty had a pair of earbuds in her ears and was reading. Ramsey was staring at and occasionally poking at his iPhone. Jones hummed some ‘80s song, every now and then augmenting Helene’s stories.

  The one thing about his team that Mostyn was very pleased about was that there was no young woman for Jones to hit on. Mostyn recognized that Jones was a good agent. The main problem with him, in Mostyn’s mind, was that Jones looked like a Greek God and knew it.

  The Fort Apache Reservation, through which they were driving, had a desolate feel about it. The land was hilly and brown and dotted with small trees and bushes. The grass looked dry and spiky. To the west of the highway there was periodically in view a cut in the terrain, evidence of a creek or maybe just a dry riverbed.

  Mostyn couldn’t help but think that a disservice had been done to the Native Americans. What the hell could they do with land this barren and dry? Unfortunately, war means there are winners and losers. True, the winners of the conflict often end up losing too. Their loss is just not as readily apparent. And in the conflict over who was to control the Americas, the native peoples had lost hands down. From Cortez to Captain Frederick H. L. Ryder and the Battle of Bear Valley in 1918, the Native Americans had consistently lost every war they fought with the Europeans and their descendants.

  And now here we are, Mostyn thought, dealing with beings from other dimensions. How are we not like the native peoples my ancestors conquered? Maybe the old saying is true: what goes around, comes around.

  Mostyn went back to reading the accounts of the chupacabra and the Jersey Devil and wondered if perhaps they were scouts for some inter-dimensional beings who would put earthlings on reservations.