Van Dyne's Vampires

by C W Hawes

  “We need more speed, Bird,” Mostyn called out.

  “I have this thing going flat out. Sixty miles per hour is it.”

  “Get the wind behind us,” Mostyn replied.

  “What wind, sir? There isn’t any.”

  “What’s our armament, Dr Bardon?”

  “One fixed light machine gun facing forward. This wasn’t intended for combat. Don’t worry, Mostyn. I have the EDT Four.” Bardon took out his phone and began tapping on it.

  The blimp bounced.

  “I think the devil has landed,” Dotty said, and took her pistol out of its holster.

  Mostyn picked up his suppressed submachine gun and returned to his window.

  “We’re losing gas pressure, sir,” Bird called out.

  “Keep us aloft as long as you can, Ms Bird,” Bardon replied.

  One of the creatures flew towards Mostyn’s window.

  “I can’t believe how big these things are,” he said, and then pulled the trigger. In two and a half seconds, Mostyn had emptied the magazine and the bullet riddled body of the creature was plummeting towards the ground.

  Special Agent Bird brought the nose of the blimp up in an attempt to use aerodynamic lift to compensate for the gas the airship was losing.

  Another creature grabbed onto the side of the gondola, and reached for Dotty with one of its claws. She fired four rounds into its long neck and the creature fell to Earth.

  “Where’s the third devil?” Mostyn asked.

  “I see it in the rearview camera, sir,” Bird called out. “Looks like it’s just following us.”

  “Probably relaying our position to van Dyne so we have a welcoming committee when we crash,” Dotty said.

  “You are undoubtedly correct, Dr Kemper,” Bardon said. “However, I’m almost done here.” He made a couple more taps and a shimmering green aura surrounded the sinking airship.

  “Looks like we’re in the middle of an aurora borealis,” Dotty said.

  “What took so long?” Mostyn asked.

  “This particular inter-dimensional being decided it wanted to renegotiate, rather than follow protocol. Given our current situation, it was simpler to negotiate. However, that Class Two Xenophage hasn’t had the last laugh. No sirree Bob!”

  “Dr Bardon, I can’t keep her in the air much longer. The rent in the fabric must be getting larger.”

  “Hm. I suppose so,” Bardon said. “Airflow and all that. How much time, Ms Bird?”

  “About a minute.”

  “Very well. Put out a mayday and let’s prepare for impact.”

  Dotty and Bardon sat in the aft seats and put on their seat belts. Mostyn got into the seat next to Bird, and belted himself in.

  With the nose of the blimp angled up, Mostyn looked out the side window. The New Jersey landscape was coming up fast and everywhere he looked he saw trees. This was not going to be a pretty landing.

  Special Agent Bird throttled back the electric motors and the airship’s forward movement slowed. She flipped a switch and dumped the rest of the water ballast. When the water was gone, she turned off the electric motors.

  The airship shuddered as though a myriad of hands were grasping it. All Mostyn saw were trees. Then all was still and portions of the envelope slowly draped themselves over the gondola.

  Looking out the window, Mostyn saw deciduous trees and evergreens and part of the envelope of the blimp. The trees, as it were, had taken hold of the gondola and the envelope and were gently holding them. He turned to Bird, “I have to say, that was the softest crash landing I’ve ever experienced.”

  She did a little bow from her seat. “Thank you, Special Agent Mostyn. Now, since I’m the lightest, I’m going to see just how far off the ground we are. Sit tight.”

  Bird unbuckled her seatbelt and moved aft. “Dr Bardon, Dr Kemper, are you two alright?”

  “Fine,” Kemper said.

  “Nice flying,” Bardon replied.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Bird opened the emergency hatch in the floor and looked down at the ground. The shimmering green aura made it look as though the ground was moving.

  “What’s the verdict, Bird?” Mostyn asked.

  “Can’t tell for sure, sir, due to the aura. I’ll guess about twenty-five feet.”

  “We can use the cloud car to get down to the ground,” Bardon said.

  “We probably don’t want to do that, sir,” Mostyn said. “We’re safer inside the EDT.”

  “I can re-deploy it once we’re on the ground.”

  “And if it gives you fits like before?”

  “I see your point, Mostyn. Very well, we’ll stay here for the time being.”

  “However, I’d like to go to the ground and get a better idea of our situation,” Mostyn said. “I can do that, right, Dr Bardon?”

  Bardon nodded. “Yes. We can leave the defense bubble. It just prevents other things from entering.”

  In the distance, they heard howling.

  “Hear that, Mostyn?” Dotty said. “I think you have your answer.”

  Mostyn turned to Special Agent Bird. “How far are we from the Van Dyne building?”

  “About a half-dozen miles or so, sir.”

  Mostyn pursed his lips, and stared out the window. After a moment he spoke. “I guess we sit tight and wait. Let’s hope our guys get here first.”

  They sat and waited, while listening to the howling grow ever closer. After five minutes passed, Mostyn got out of his seat and moved aft. The gondola shifted, but didn’t fall any further.

  “Looks like we’re stuck pretty good,” Bird said.

  “Looks like it,” Mostyn concurred.

  He loaded the submachine gun, and grabbed three additional magazines. Turning to Bird, he said, “How do I get to the cloud car?”

  “Is this necessary, Mostyn?” Dotty asked. “The cavalry should be here any time now.”

  “They should, but they might not. Bird, the entrance?”

  “That hatch at the very back of the gondola.”

  Mostyn went to it and opened it. He peered into the opening and saw a seat surrounded by a space no bigger than that of the soap box derby racers he played with as a boy. He shook his head and got in. He just fit.

  “Okay, Bird, lower me. I want to be about ten feet off the ground.”

  “Mostyn, we have the EDT. This is no time to play cowboy.” Dotty’s voice contained a slight note of worry.

  Bardon spoke up. “They shouldn’t be able to get through the talisman, Mostyn. I quite agree with Dr Kemper.”

  The howls were getting louder.

  “That may be, sir, but I’d still like to know what we are up against. And the only way to know that is for someone to get clear of the blimp, so we have a three hundred and sixty degree surveillance circle. Night vision binoculars, please.”

  Bardon handed the binoculars to Mostyn. “When you leave the blimp and pass through the aura, the Xenophage will mark you and that way you’ll be allowed to come back through. The marking might sting.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” Mostyn signaled for Bird to lower the car. A hand telephone set connected the car with the gondola.

  Passing through the aura he felt sharp needles stabbing him all over his body. He looked at his hands and saw they left no mark. When he thought he was ten feet off the ground he told Bird to stop.

  From the car, he took a good look at the terrain surrounding the airship. Trees. Nothing but trees as far as he could see. The howling was very close now. Dozens of voices sounded. Whatever was making the noise had traveled very fast. He scanned the area circling the airship. Nothing but the trees. He started a second sweep and that’s when he saw them making their way through the forest. It was as if Van Dyne Corp had unlocked the gate to hell.

  8

  Mostyn moved the selector on his weapon to two-round bursts and opened fire on the three-headed dog charging towards him out of the trees. At the same time, Special Agent Bird pressed the button and the winc
h began pulling the cloud car back up to the gondola.

  The dog collapsed in a heap. Three Jersey Devils leaped for the car. Mostyn fired. One fell to the ground, writhing. The other two held onto the car, their talons piercing the thin metal. The winch whined in protest over the extra weight.

  Mostyn fired point blank into the face of one of the creatures. The 5.7mm rounds shattered the thing’s head and it fell away. The other creature clawed Mostyn and knocked the submachine gun from his hand.

  With his left hand, Mostyn retrieved his back-up pistol from the small of his back and emptied the magazine into the thing. It uttered a scream and Mostyn watched it fall to earth.

  A two-headed ogre-like monster charged out of the trees firing a machine pistol with one hand, and swinging a massive club with the other. Mostyn returned fire with the submachine gun just before the cloud car rejoined the gondola of SNOB-2.

  Bullets from the machine pistol, intended to rake the underside of the gondola, vaporized in the shimmering green aura.

  From one of the windows, Dotty opened fire with her pistol. The ogre staggered and then collapsed in a heap.

  More Jersey Devils flew out of the night and were vaporized by the EDT when they attempted to grab hold of the blimp.

  Mostyn climbed out of the cloud car and joined the others at the windows.

  Bird pointed. “Look! Something’s up.”

  In the clearing, an array of Cerberus dogs, giant wolf-like things on two legs, two-headed ogres, Jersey Devils, and a centipede the size of a refrigerator with a human face had suddenly stopped, as if instantly frozen.

  With their heads cocked at an angle, it was apparent they were listening for something. After a moment, they turned and melted away into the surrounding forest. In the distance Mostyn and the others could make out the sound of helicopters.

  “It’s about time the cavalry got here,” Dotty said.

  “Good thing, too,” Bardon said, looking at his phone. “This cantankerous Xenophage is ready to call it a day.”

  ***

  The District of Columbia is filled with nondescript office buildings which house the two to three hundred thousand bureaucrats who help run the Federal Government.

  In one such nondescript building, the Office of Unidentified Phenomena is housed. And in one of its conference rooms a meeting was being conducted.

  Dr Rafe Bardon was seated at one end of the table and Special Agent in Charge Pierce Mostyn at the other. Mostyn’s team members and three OUP wonks filled in the rest of the chairs situated on the sides of the table. Insulated pots of coffee and boxes of doughnuts decorated the middle of the table. Bardon had his own insulated pot filled with tea.

  The conference room was decorated in Modern Federal Sterile. Everything white, save for the beige carpet. No one, though, seemed to care about the room’s decor. Not when there was coffee, and more importantly doughnuts. Especially doughnuts paid for by the boss and made by Mike’s Doughnut Shop.

  When the coffee and doughnut ritual had been performed and a break in the chitchat occurred, Dr Bardon began the meeting.

  “Two things are now very apparent,” he said. “The first is that the chupacabra and the Jersey Devil are man-made creatures.”

  The wonks scribbled away on their notepads. They were using notepads because Bardon preferred paper over computers. His thinking was that it’s pretty difficult to hack a sheet of paper.

  Coffee cup halfway to his mouth, Dr Penn, the forensic veterinarian, added, “GMO animals, as it were. Genetically modified organisms.” The coffee cup continued its journey.

  “Yes, indeed,” Bardon said.

  There was more scribbling.

  “What I can’t figure out,” Gerstner, the mythologist, began, “is why anyone would want to create these things in the first place. They don’t serve any useful purpose, except perhaps to arouse a primal sense of fear.”

  Around a bite of doughnut, Dotty said, “That may be their purpose. To instill fear.”

  “Very true, Dr Kemper,” Bardon said. “Which brings us to the second thing we know. The Van Dyne Corporation is the one creating them.”

  Pens and pencils duly noted that point.

  “Along with a whole host of other lovelies,” Mostyn said.

  Bardon chuckled. “Indeed.”

  “Maybe they are entertainment,” Helene said, “since you don’t have slaves.”

  One of the wonks looked up, thought he was going to say something, and then changed his mind.

  “I don’t think so,” Mostyn replied. “Van Dyne Corp is planning something. The question is, what?” Mostyn noticed that Bardon was deliberately playing ignorant. Giving little tidbits and nothing more. The question that immediately came to his mind was, why?

  “The cyborg rodents we sent them should give us valuable information,” Bardon said.

  “In the meantime, what do we do, sir?” Mostyn asked.

  Bardon drank tea and puffed on his pipe before answering. “A slight change of plans is in order, which is why I’ve called you here. I think we should let our little cyborgs do their job, and in the meantime you take your team to North Carolina and find out what Van Dyne Corporation is doing there.”

  “That seems like a waste of time, Dr Bardon,” Kemper said. “We know Van Dyne’s creating these things, let’s deal with them on their home turf.”

  Bardon knocked the dottle out of his old bent bulldog, and put it in a pocket. From another pocket he extracted an apple-shaped pipe and began filling it from his tobacco pouch. “True, Dr Kemper. We are now fairly certain the Van Dyne Corporation is behind the creation of the chupacabra and the Jersey Devil. Well, at least the current incarnation of the Jersey Devil. However, we don’t know why and we don’t know where they create them.”

  Pipe filled, Bardon lit it, and began puffing away. Although technically no smoking was allowed in the building, Bardon didn’t seem to be bothered by the technicality. And no one dared say anything.

  The OUP director continued, “The New Jersey facility is their public face. They do very little of their real work there. Although, as Mr Mostyn can attest, and you yourself, Dr Kemper, the fruits of their labors can be seen there. If you are at the facility at the right time.”

  “But if we—”

  Bardon raised his hand and stopped Dotty Kemper from continuing. “North Carolina. You leave tonight. Anything else?”

  Kemper shook her head. Bardon looked at the others. More head shaking and a “no” or two were voiced.

  “Well, then, we’re done here.” Bardon stood and exited the room. The wonks closed their notepads, pocketed pens and pencils, and followed the director out.

  Baker stood, stretched, and snagged another doughnut. “Know where we’re going in North Carolina, Mostyn?”

  “I do. A little town called Pine Bluff. Nestled in the beautiful hills of Appalachia.”

  “You’re kidding,” Jones said, “we’re going back there?”

  “Not kidding, and, yes, we are,” Mostyn replied.

  Helene stood. “It is not West Virginia, DC. No abhumans.”

  “They’re all abhumans down there,” Kemper said.

  Gerstner, a smile on his face, replied, “You’re going to get in trouble one of these days, Dr Kemper, for not being even a little PC.”

  Kemper stood, took a doughnut, and poured herself a cup of coffee. Then said, “Is this the face of someone who cares?”

  Gerstner chuckled. “I guess not.”

  “Good. We’re on the same page.” She turned to Mostyn and Helene. “Come on, you two, we have to pack some traipsing-in-the-goddamn-woods clothes. Shit.”

  9

  While Mostyn and his team were on their way to North Carolina, Dr Bardon was sitting in his office. He lit his pipe, and when he had it going, he flipped a switch and a large screen descended from the ceiling along the wall opposite his heavy black walnut desk. He tapped a few keys on his computer and the screen came alive with thirty windows.

  Twenty-
five of the windows provided information from the cyborgized mice. The other five windows provided various views of the Van Dyne headquarters building. And at that moment, over two dozen OUP analysts and agents were also observing what Bardon was looking at.

  One mouse was assigned to each of the fifteen floors and one to each of the three basement levels. The remaining seven mice roamed at will or were directed to specific locations to provide extra sets of eyes and ears.

  Bardon gazed at each window, noting where the mice were and what they were observing. Since the time was late, well after normal business hours, as well as after the cleaning crews had left, there was nothing to hinder the mice from having free rein of the building.

  After seeing what each mouse was observing, the OUP director focused on mice numbers eight and nine. They were the ones assigned to the floors Mostyn and NicAskill had damaged. He could see that the floors were well on their way towards being operational again.

  “What are you up to, Valdis Damien van Dyne?” Bardon whispered to the display. “It can’t be anything good.”

  The director switched his attention to the mice assigned to the basement levels, and noticed the mouse on Sublevel 2 had entered a room by traveling through the ductwork and in between the walls. Bardon brought up a schematic of the floor.

  “Aha! As I thought,” Bardon murmured. “This room is unknown. Perhaps a later add on.”

  Bardon watched what the mouse was seeing with interest. The room was obviously some type of laboratory. The question, of course, was what manner of experiments were conducted there.

  Perhaps I was wrong, Bardon thought, and Van Dyne does do some of their major research here. Hopefully, the mouse will give us a clue.

  He messaged the supervisor of the mouse controllers and asked that three more mice be directed to the room. The secret lab was dimly lit and there wasn’t much detail Bardon could make out.

  “We will definitely need to have eyes and ears on this place when there is work going on,” he murmured.