Department 19: Zero Hour

by Will Hill

  “I know, Mum.”

  “And you have to drink blood. Every day, whether you want to or not. You can’t imagine how awful that is.”

  “I know,” he repeated. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because part of me is worried that you think this is some kind of grand adventure,” she said, her tone suddenly deadly serious. “Some exciting game that you can play until your friend comes up with some magic pill and we all go back to normal. But that’s not the truth, Jamie. It’s a curse, a bloody curse, and there’s nothing you or I or anyone else can do about it.”

  Jamie stared at her for a long moment, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, eventually. “I know how hard this is, and I didn’t mean to shout. But you have to accept that I know what I’m talking about.”

  “I do,” he said, his voice low. “I really do, Mum.”

  She looked at him and nodded. Then her face crumpled, and she lowered her head as she began to cry.

  Jamie stood helplessly for a long moment, staring at his mother as her shoulders trembled and her chest heaved. Then he stepped forward and pulled her tightly against him.

  “It’s OK,’ he whispered. “Don’t cry, Mum. It’ll be OK.”

  She didn’t respond, but her arms wrapped round his waist.

  “Seriously,” he said. “You’re going to set me off. And I can’t cry in my uniform, Mum. Everyone will take the piss.”

  His mother raised her head and gave him the smallest of sad smiles. “It’s just not fair, Jamie,” she said, her voice cracking. “Why did this happen to us? What did we do to deserve any of it?”

  “Nothing,” said Jamie, firmly. “We didn’t do anything. None of this is our fault. It’s not Dad’s fault either. Bad things happen.”

  “They do,” said Marie. “They really do. I’m so proud of you, Jamie. You know that, don’t you?”

  A huge lump leapt into his throat. “Yeah,” he managed. “I know, Mum.”

  “Do you want tea?”

  Jamie smiled. Tea was his mother’s first line of defence against whatever the world had to throw at her, an almost automatic response.

  “Yes, please,” he said. “I’d love a tea.”

  She let go of him, nodded, and set about laying out cups and saucers. As the kettle began to boil, she looked over at him with a small smile on her face.

  “Have you flown yet?” she asked.

  Jamie smiled. “Not yet, Mum. I was only turned twelve hours ago.”

  “There’s no point denying what you are,” said Marie. “That’s what Valentin told me. You might as well enjoy one of the few good things about it. Give it a try.”

  Jamie’s smile widened, then his face furrowed into a mask of concentration.

  “It’s not like any other kind of movement,” said Marie, watching him carefully. “Not like walking or running or jumping. You have to sort of think yourself into the air.”

  “OK,” said Jamie. He focused on the ground beneath his boots, trying to imagine separating from it, trying to force his body to do something impossible. His legs started to tremble with effort, the muscles vibrating beneath his skin. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and a dull ache settled into his neck and shoulders. He was on the verge of giving up when something clicked in his mind, some switch that had been dormant his entire life; he rose an unsteady few centimetres from the ground and hung there, his arms flailing redundantly for balance at his sides. He felt heat spill into his eyes as they widened with delight, and he grinned at his mother, who was watching him with a mixture of pride and profound sadness. Her expression broke his concentration and he dropped back to the ground.

  “I did it,” he said. “You saw that, right? I totally did it.”

  Marie nodded, then spun elegantly through the air, smiling widely at him.

  “It’s like that, is it?” he asked, grinning up at her.

  She shrugged with fake nonchalance, her smile widening even further.

  Jamie reached into his mind and found the switch; it was far easier now he knew it was there, knew what to feel for. He bore down on it and this time he shot up into the air, his body flipping forward, out of control. Marie swooped down, took hold of his arms, and righted him; they hung in the air of her cell, mother and son grinning at each other like schoolchildren.

  “You’re strong,” she said. “I couldn’t stay up like this for weeks.”

  “You could have,” said Jamie. “You just didn’t know you could. Matt came up with a theory that the older the vampire is that bites you, the quicker your power increases, and the stronger you end up being. The vamp who bit me was old, maybe the second oldest there’s ever been. But Alexandru bit you, and he’s very nearly as ancient.”

  “Valentin told me I was stronger than most,” said Marie. “I thought he was just flattering me.”

  “He probably was,” said Jamie. “But he was also telling you the truth.”

  Marie removed her hands. Jamie wobbled in the air, then held himself upright, floating steadily a metre above the ground.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  Jamie smiled. “Like I could stay up here all day.”

  Marie looked at him for a long moment, then descended to the floor of her cell. Jamie followed suit, touching down slightly awkwardly, and smiled at his mother, his eyes wide and glowing red in their corners.

  He had always assumed when he saw Larissa flying that it would feel like weightlessness, but he realised now that he had been wrong.

  It didn’t feel like that at all.

  His body still felt like it had weight and mass; what felt different was how it interacted with the air around him, as though the air itself had acquired solidity, which he could now push against and float on top of. It was the most glorious sensation, a feeling of irresistible freedom that he was already yearning to experience again; he wanted to not just float in an underground room, but soar through open skies, swoop and bank and dive, the vast emptiness around him on all sides. Why his girlfriend had not wanted to come home from NS9 was suddenly completely understandable; the empty desert of Nevada must have been like heaven.

  “I have to tell you something else, Mum,” he said. “Something I’m probably not supposed to.”

  “Why don’t I think this is going to be good?” asked Marie, forcing a tiny smile.

  Jamie rolled his eyes. “You’re so negative, Mum,” he said, and smiled at her. “Anyone would think the world was about to end.”

  Her smile disappeared. “What are you talking about, Jamie?” she asked.

  “Valentin came back,” he said. “Last night. He found Dracula, and his brother, and Henry Seward. A team has been put together to go and deal with them once and for all.”

  “And you’re going,” said Marie. “Aren’t you?”

  Jamie nodded.

  “Let me come with you,” said Marie, instantly. “Let me help.”

  “I can’t, Mum,” said Jamie, around the lump that had leapt back into his throat. “You know I don’t have that kind of authority.”

  “I could be useful, though,” said Marie, her eyes filling up with tears. “I’m strong now, and fast, and I could look after you, and …”

  Jamie felt his heart creak alarmingly; if his mother kept talking, if the concern radiating out of her pores became any sharper and more potent, it would surely break. He reached out and hugged her again, wondering idly when he had last embraced his mother three times in five minutes. She hugged him back fiercely, and Jamie ordered himself to hold it together, to not make this any harder for her than it needed to be.

  “I’m coming back,” he whispered. “When this is over, I’m coming home.”

  Marie pulled back and favoured him with a look of immense pride.

  “I believe you,” she said.

  But her eyes told a different story.

  Kate Randall knocked on the door of Paul Turner’s office and opened it before he had time to shout for he
r to come in. Anger was bubbling through her like acid, scouring and scalding, and it was taking every iota of her self-control to keep calm. She strode across the office and threw her console down on the Security Officer’s desk.

  “Can you explain this?” she asked, her voice low and furious.

  Turner glanced at the console screen, then looked up at her and frowned.

  “Explain what?” he asked.

  “I think you know,” said Kate. She was breathing hard, almost hyperventilating with anger. “I think you know exactly what.”

  Turner narrowed his eyes, then picked up the console and read the message glowing on its screen.

  “You’ve been ordered to act as Interim Security Officer while the Operational force is in France,” he said, and shrugged. “So what?”

  “So what?” growled Kate. “Why am I being left here to guard an empty base while everyone else is fighting Dracula? That’s what.”

  “Someone from our Division had to stay,” said Turner, his voice infuriatingly calm and measured. “And I chose you. You should take it as a compliment, given that you’re only a Lieutenant.”

  “A compliment?” shouted Kate. “Are you actually kidding me? I’m supposed to be pleased that you chose me to twiddle my thumbs on the sidelines while my friends fight for their lives? Really?”

  “I didn’t say you were supposed to be pleased about it,” said Turner. “I expect you to carry out the orders you have been given, the same as everyone else.”

  Kate stared at her boss, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her face pale. The Security Officer met her gaze, his grey eyes clear and steady.

  “What’s this really about?” she asked, forcing herself to moderate her tone and volume. “What’s going on, Paul? Tell me the truth.”

  “Nothing’s going on,” he replied. “I trust you to be in charge in my absence. It’s as simple as that.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said. “Are you punishing me? Did I do something wrong?”

  “If you had done something wrong, you would know it,” said Turner. “You can ask me the same question in as many ways as you like, but the answer isn’t going to change. I need you here. It’s that simple.”

  Kate narrowed her eyes. “Is this about Shaun?” she asked.

  Turner recoiled, as though she had slapped him rather than simply spoken his son’s name. “I’m sorry?” he asked.

  “This,” she said. “Leaving me here, out of harm’s way. Is it about what happened to Shaun?”

  “That’s beneath you, Kate,” he said, his cheeks flushing an angry pink. “It really is.”

  Jackpot, she thought.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “If it isn’t about him, then tell me the truth. The real truth.”

  “There is no real truth,” said Turner, his face darkening, his voice like ice. “There is only the truth, which you seem completely unwilling to accept.”

  “Why don’t you want me to go to France, sir?” she asked.

  “Because I need you here.”

  “Why don’t you want me to go, sir?”

  “I just told you, Lieutenant.”

  “Why don’t you want me to—”

  Paul Turner leapt to his feet. His chair shot backwards across the office and crashed into the wall at the same moment he slammed both his hands down on his desk.

  “ENOUGH!” he bellowed. “THAT IS ENOUGH OUT OF YOU, LIEUTENANT! ONE MORE WORD AND I’LL—”

  “What, sir?” she asked, trying to hold her nerve in the face of his sudden, enormous fury. “What will you do?”

  Turner stared at her across the desk; the gaze that had intimidated so many humans and vampires over the years locked directly on her. She met it, hoping he couldn’t see her legs begin to shake. After a long moment, he looked down.

  “I can’t lose you too,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry, Kate. I just can’t.”

  Kate stared at him. For a long second, she doubted her own ears, believing that the Security Officer’s words had been what she wanted to hear rather than what he had actually said. Then he raised his head, and the look on his face told her it was real.

  “Hey,” she said. “It’s all right, sir. It’s OK.”

  He shook his head and produced a fierce smile. “It’s not,” he said. “It’s utterly selfish and I know it is, believe me. But I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you. Not after Shaun.”

  Kate’s heart felt as though it was swelling in her chest, pushing against her sternum and ribs and unleashing a wave of emotion that was almost unbearable. She had seen more in her relatively short life than most: her mother wasting away to nothing; her friends and neighbours slaughtered by Alexandru Rusmanov’s followers; her boyfriend dead, his head tilted grotesquely to one side; the look on her father’s face when he realised that she was still alive. This moment was not quite the equal of those, but nor was it a million miles away; she fought back tears as she looked at the Security Officer, trying to imagine the enormous strength it must have taken for him to make such a painful admission.

  “I understand, sir,” she said. “Thank you. For caring.”

  He shook his head again. “I know it’s selfish,” he repeated. “But I want to know that you’re safe, that you’ll be safe, no matter what happens to me. I’ll rescind the order if you ask me to, although I’m really hoping that you won’t.”

  Kate smiled. The fire that had been raging through her mere minutes earlier was gone, extinguished by the truth of Paul Turner’s desperate, panicked desire to protect her.

  “I’ll stay,” she said.

  Victor Frankenstein was lying on his bed, his attention focused entirely on trying to ignore the terrible itching beneath his skin, when there was a knock on the door to his quarters. He swung his legs down to the floor, crossed the small room, and pulled the door open.

  “Hey,” said Jamie Carpenter.

  He smiled. “Hey, yourself,” he said, and stepped aside. “Come in.” The teenager nodded and walked past him. As he did so, Frankenstein saw the red around his eyes, the paleness of his skin.

  He looks like he’s been crying, he thought.

  Jamie flopped down into the chair that stood in the corner of the small room. The monster stayed on his feet, looking carefully at the boy he had sworn to protect.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Just about,” replied Jamie. “I went to visit my mum. It was pretty rough.”

  “I would imagine it was,” said Frankenstein. “I assume she’s upset?”

  Jamie nodded. “She was,” he said. “The first thing she asked me was whether Larissa did it.”

  Frankenstein grimaced. “I can only imagine how that made you feel,” he said. “But you have to remember that she just wants you to be safe. It’s hard for her, what you do every day. The dangers you face.”

  Jamie nodded. “I know that,” he said. “And I hate making her worry, I really do. But this is what my life is, and I’m proud of what we do. She’s going to have to deal with it eventually.”

  “She never will,” said Frankenstein. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. She will never come to terms with you risking your life every night. She might learn to accept it, but it’s never going to be OK. You’re the most important thing in the world to her.”

  “I know,” said Jamie. “She wanted to help us, to come to France and fight. Can you believe that?”

  “I was friends with your father for a long time, Jamie,” said Frankenstein, and smiled. “From everything he told me about her, I’m not remotely surprised.”

  Jamie nodded and rubbed his eyes. For a moment, silence descended over the small room; it was not uncomfortable, but felt full of things unsaid.

  “Do you want to tell me about Romania?” asked Frankenstein. “About what happened?”

  Jamie shook his head. “Not right now,” he said. “Maybe later. If there is a later.”

  “All right,” said Fr
ankenstein. He was keen to know what had taken place in the Teleorman Forest, but he had no desire to press the teenager; he had more than enough to be thinking about right now.

  Jamie looked up at him. “Do you miss my dad?” he asked, his voice low and hollow.

  For a long moment, Frankenstein didn’t respond; his mind was racing with a single, irrational thought.

  Does he know? Can he know that I spoke to Julian less than an hour ago?

  “Yes,” he said, eventually. “I miss him. Particularly today.”

  Jamie nodded. “I do too,” he said. “I can’t be angry with him any more. It’s not worth it. Now I just miss him.”

  “Your father wasn’t perfect,” said Frankenstein. “He made mistakes, lots of them. But he loved you and your mother. Never forget that.”

  Jamie smiled. “I know he did,” he said. “And from what people have told me, it sounds like we could have done with him on our side today.”

  Frankenstein nodded. “We definitely could,” he said. “He was one of the finest Operators to ever wear the uniform. I wish he was coming with us.”

  There was another long silence, as Jamie dropped his eyes to the floor. Frankenstein could almost see the turmoil filling the teenager, the confusion and uncertainty; it was apparent in the hunched arc of his shoulders.

  “Do you think he’d be proud of me?” asked Jamie, eventually. “My dad, I mean.”

  Frankenstein felt a stab of pain in his chest. “He was proud of you,” he said. “Your mother was the only person on earth who knew him better than I did, so I can tell you that with absolute certainty.”

  “But now, I mean,” said Jamie, looking up. “He never saw me as an Operator. Do you think he would be proud now?”

  “Of course he would,” said Frankenstein. “And rightly so. If you were mine, I’d be the proudest father in the world.”

  Jamie smiled. Frankenstein stared at his face as it lit up, seeing him for what he was: a teenage boy who had already endured more than should ever have been asked of him.

  I forget sometimes, he thought. He seems so much older, and he’s been through so much. But he’s just a boy.