by Jon F. Merz
“About what?”
“Calling you a bastard, that stuff.” She shrugged. “I don’t like having this chain around my neck. I don’t like being what I am to you.”
I stared at her for a moment. “I’d think you were strange if you didn’t curse me out. Forget about it.”
She stared back, then sighed and turned away as if I’d failed to grasp what she meant. Maybe I had. Did it matter? We both had a job to do. That was it.
The stew started bubbling and I heaped a portion on to an old plastic plate I carry. “Here. Eat something. You’re too thin and we’ve got a ways to go before we reach Diablo.”
Ares hesitated, then took the stew and started tearing through it. In between mouthfuls, she looked up at me. “How long?”
I shrugged. “Maybe another day. Maybe two. Depends on how much ground we can cover in the daylight. I’m not crazy about the idea of spending another night out in the open like this. We might not find something as good as this to hole up in tomorrow.”
Ares kept eating and then she licked the plate clean before handing it back. I smirked. “Good?”
She nodded. “Really good. Reminds me of a time when I went camping and my boyfriend made some stew over a fire.”
“Yeah,” I said. “There’s nothing like a hot meal when you’re out in the cold.” I heaped a fresh serving onto the plate and ate, chewing the tender beef, potatoes, carrots and gravy before washing it down with a swig of water. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and caught Ares staring at me.
“What?”
“You’re a soldier.”
“Was,” I said. “Although I think the proper term would have been ‘sailor.’ Same difference. We killed bad guys.”
“A SEAL.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t look old enough to have known the term, which caught me by surprise. But maybe she’d known someone like me before. It was possible. Anything was in that fucked up world.
I scooped out the remnants of the stew onto the plate and gave it to the dog who promptly wolfed it down and then took care of cleaning the pot as well. In spite of myself, I grinned. Cole had always wanted a dog.
“So now you’re a vampire hunter.”
“We’re called Mortal Makers,” I said. “Sounds a bit better.”
“Not really,” said Ares. “You still kill.”
I took a moment and then shrugged. “It’s all I’ve ever known.”
“Not all,” said Ares. “You knew love.” She paused. “Once.”
I frowned. “Of course I knew love. We all did. Before the world went to shit.”
Ares lowered her voice. “What happened?”
“With the suckers? Who the hell knows? One day everything was fine, the next nothing was.”
She shook her head. “No. Not them. What happened to…them? The ones you loved.”
I glared at her, feeling the heat rise in my chest, the thoughts and images tumbling out of the box where I kept them locked away. A fury rose within me that she would even have the gall to ask about them. She didn’t know them; she had no right to ask. Who was she anyway? A fucking junkie. Bait. She was already marked for death.
But instead of saying any of that to her face, I simply shook my head. “Better you don’t ask about that. None of it matters anymore. The only thing I need to focus on right now is getting to Diablo, rendezvousing with Rask, and figuring out where the Source is.”
To her credit, she didn’t push the issue. Maybe she still had some degree of common sense in her head. “Source?”
“The one that started all of this. The first vampire.”
“You think if you find the…Source, you’ll be able to stop the vampires from spreading anymore?”
“That’s the plan,” I said. “No idea if it will work, but it’s all we’ve got. Me and Rask, we’re about the only ones left in this part of the world. Suckers have taken the others and torn them apart. But not us. Not yet, anyway.” I took another swig of water. “Find the first vampire and we can make it the last vampire we have to kill.”
“Something tells me you’ll be okay,” said Ares. “Although that might just be me being hopeful.”
I shook my head. “Hope ain’t much to count on.”
“Hope is all I have left,” said Ares.
The dog settled down and rested his head on his paws. He seemed content, which I thought was a good sign. I didn’t know how he’d gotten wounded, but maybe it was suckers. No way to know for sure.
I was looking forward to reconnecting with Rask. Hopefully, his recon was going well and he’d have plenty of information for me when we rendezvoused-
-A floorboard shifted upstairs. Above our heads.
The dog’s head came up instantly and he let a low growl rumble in his throat.
The creak registered just barely. I froze and held up my hand for Ares to stay absolutely quiet. My right hand found its way to my staff and I lifted it soundlessly off the floor, bringing it over in front of me on my lap. Then I slowly unsnapped the holster on my thigh. I didn’t know for sure if they were suckers or humans, although the likelihood of anyone mortal being out at night was slim.
The creaks continued and I positioned myself with the fire between me and the bottom tread. I reached down and picked up the smoldering bundle of herbs and waved it in the air, trying to increase the volume of smoke and smell.
I heard the hiss then and snapped my holster shut. Definitely a sucker. But was it one or more than one?
The next sound I heard was of fingernails - claws really - scratching their way down the door to the cellar. Long. Slow. More hissing. I could tell it wasn’t happy about the herbs, which was exactly why I always carried them.
Despite the fact that it held the high ground, I felt good about my position. In order to attack, it would have to brave the haze of herbal noxious gas and then come down the stairs. I could attack it at any time and probably stake it before it even touched down in the cellar.
Still, there was always something about hearing the hiss and the fingernails that sent a shiver up my spine. Suckers could be killed, yeah, but that didn’t mean they didn’t scare the crap out of me at the same time. Only a fool tries to claim he’s never scared.
I glanced over my shoulder, but Ares had drawn herself into the wall of the root cellar as much as possible. She was probably still having flashbacks to the night before when she’d come close to being dinner.
That was her job, though.
The door creaked open and I saw a gnarled claw come through the opening, waving at the air just beyond the door as if trying to dissipate the haze. I heard angry hisses and smiled. The herbs were doing their job. Now it was just a matter of seeing how hungry the sucker was and if he was willing to brave certain death by coming down in the cellar.
I heard laughter then and frowned.
That was unusual.
The dog barked at the hand. It felt good knowing the little guy was a fighter.
I held the staff in both of my hands, ready to use it as soon as the sucker attacked. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something - and it was behind me.
I wheeled.
Blinked as my eyes tried to process the scene before me. It wasn’t supposed to be happening. And yet, it was.
I saw the walls crumbling around Ares, dirt erupting from the walls, spilling into the cellar. Saw her eyes go wide in shock as the pale limbs broke through and grabbed her, pulling her right back through the walls of the cellar.
She screamed before a claw clamped over her mouth, muffled her voice and then dragged her back into the wall.
Gone.
8
Then the dog barked louder.
Behind me-
I spun, bringing the staff up even as the sucker that had come down the stairs launched itself at me, fangs bared and intent on ripping my throat out. But I was quicker and buried the tip of the staff in the sucker’s chest, causing it to screech and fill the cellar with the inhuman sound of its de
ath as it slid forward and the staff erupted out of its back, blood already spilling down the shaft.
I shook the creature free and wiped the staff on the floor, trying to get rid of as much blood as possible. Then I looked back at the wall and realized it wasn’t a wall at all, but a carefully concealed false background. I tore it open and saw the narrow passage before me - a cave really - bathed in darkness.
No choice, I rushed in keeping the staff up in front of me. I could hear the sucker that had grabbed Ares up ahead, dragging her as she tried to fight it off. I wished I’d had a pair of night vision goggles with me, but for now, I was going on the assumption that this passageway had to lead somewhere.
I know the dog was behind me; I could hear him panting as we moved. But even though I wanted his company, I couldn’t afford to wait for him to limp along.
I was right about the passage and it started to slope upward, gradually leading me outside to a copse of pine trees. I smelled the syrupy sap and knew I was in real danger now. In the confines of the tunnel, I could use the lack of space to my advantage. Out here, I was vulnerable from all sides. Not exactly the type of tactical environment I would have chosen for myself.
I gripped the staff tight and headed out into the night.
I heard muffled noises to my left and then heard something that sounded like someone with a mouth full of spit was trying to suck it back in. I knew the noise as I’d heard it enough times before.
I charged in the direction and saw the sucker bent over Ares’ neck, its mouth latched on to it.
Sucking.
Feeding.
I stabbed it through its back with the staff, stopping just short of breaking out of its chest. But I’d scored a direct hit and the sucker reared back, its bloody mouth drawn back as it screamed deep into the night and then slumped forward across Ares’ body, dead.
I hauled the corpse off and tried to drag Ares away from the scene. Her eyes were closed and she had a dribble of blood spilling out of her neck. But she wasn’t in danger of bleeding out; suckers put some sort of coagulant in their victims that starts to stem the flow of blood as soon as they break contact. Ares would heal if the sucker hadn’t taken too much of her blood. And I didn’t think it had since I’d interrupted it fairly soon after it grabbed her.
But you never knew.
With the dog appearing on my six, I looked around, ready for another attack to materialize, but nothing happened in the aftermath. I took a deep breath and lowered the staff. So it was a pair of them hunting this sector. One to distract and the other to attack. They must have known the farm house was a likely refuge for any humans out in this area, but had they constructed the false wall or had someone else? Maybe they’d even imprisoned the dog.
It didn’t matter. My carelessness had nearly cost me the life of my bait and I still needed her alive. I was betting that if we found the Source, I was going to need something especially enticing and Ares seemed to fit the bill. She was young, reasonably vibrant, and somewhat attractive. If the Source didn’t find her appealing then Rask and I would have to try another plan.
I hauled Ares to her feet and then squatted down so I could carry her across my shoulders. With her weight reasonably even, I grabbed my staff and walked back across the field toward the farm house. Even though I knew it was a trap now, it still offered us some degree of protection.
Just not in the cellar.
Inside what used to be a bedroom, I laid Ares on the cheap threadbare mattress and checked her over again. Her pulse was stronger now and the bleeding had stopped entirely. Her breathing was slow, like she was deeply asleep.
I watched her for another moment and then took up a position at the window. The dog came over and rested his head in my lap. I stroked his head and looked out. The night was cool and clear, with the moon poking out of the cloud, reflecting light down across the field. From this vantage point, it looked like my grandfather’s farm from back when I was a kid. I’d learned a lot from him over the years: how to make do with little, how to take on obstacles and challenges, and how to plan for the future. When he’d passed, he’d left me the farm and I’d done my best to keep it up in between deployments to the worst parts of the world.
I watched the shadows trek across the field as the moon made its pass. Hours slid away from me as I battled back the effects of fatigue. During Hell Week, I’d gone days without much of any sleep. I smirked, remembering how me and the rest of the BUD/S trainees had stumbled around silly, trying to do our best to obey commands shouted at us by the instructors. Towards the end of the week, we could barely stay awake. Half of us fell asleep during chow time. My buddy Tank had zonked out with a pancake half in his mouth, sitting completely upright as if he’d suddenly frozen in place. Fortunately, the cold Pacific had a way of waking up even the most tired.
Those days…I sighed. They were a lifetime ago in another world. Everything seemed so simple then. Yeah, the shit was hard. It was supposed to be. But for me, it was just a matter of switching off and getting to the next meal time. Just get to the next meal. That was my mantra. I didn’t fixate on how tough the exercises were, I just gave one hundred percent all the fucking time. It paid to be a winner, and I was.
When I was approached to join DEVGRU - SEAL Team Six to civilians - it was because I’d continued to put out a hundred percent on my Team deployments. Your reputation was everything on the Teams - people knew you by the work you did and I’d done a lot of it in places like Iraq, the Philippines, and scattered other hotspots.
If people thought BUD/S was tough, then getting into DEVGRU was even more intense. Yeah, they did a physical version of Selection again, but if you kept yourself in top shape on the Teams, you shouldn’t have had a problem with that part. But the mental portion was the true crucible. They scrutinized everything you did in the Kill House. Why did you move to that position first? Did you give the proper move call? Did you overextend your field of fire? Why did you put two rounds into that target and three into every other? If you screwed up, everything stopped for an after-action and a trip around the obstacle course.
Then there was the popularity wall. Invitees had their faces plastered over a board and current members were obligated to leave either a check mark or an X to denote whether they thought people were a good fit for DEVGRU or not. Get too many Xs and you were gone. Acquiring checks meant you had a solid rep and that counted when you were applying to be at the very tip of the spear. We handled the blackest ops along with our brothers in JSOC - Army’s Delta, Air Force’s 24th Special Tactics Squadron, and the Marines who were still trying to figure out a suitable name for the badasses they lent JSOC. But we were all in it together. And you needed to know the guys next to you were the absolute best of the best. That’s just how it went - especially since half of the time, we got sheepdipped out of JSOC for the really dark stuff working with CIA’s Special Activities Division / Special Operations Group. It got to the point where we often didn’t even know who we were doing shit for, we just got our orders and completed the ops.
A different world, a different time.
I took a breath and sighed. I would have given anything to have even a few of those guys with me just then. After the Event, everyone went their separate ways to check on their families and loved ones. That’s how most of them ended up dying.
Because even special ops guys had a hard time holding their own against the undead.
Especially the swarms of them that took over all the cities and towns way back at the beginning.
During the blood letting.
The slaughter.
9
As soon as the sun’s first rays bled across the horizon and started scaring the dark away, I made the decision to get my head down for a few hours. Any suckers left in this area would be scurrying back to their lairs away from the deadly rays of the sun. And anyone else I’d hear coming before they got close enough to get the jump on me.
Ares was still passed out, but she seemed to be resting comfortably now.
Her breathing had relaxed as the night had worn on, which was good. She apparently had a decent constitution, which she would need every bit of when we located the Source.
I lay on the floor and used my ruck for a pillow. The hard wood beneath me didn’t faze me. I’d slept wedged into rocks, under artillery bombardment, and pretty much in every sort of awful condition you could never imagine. I’d been trained to steal sleep wherever and whenever I could manage to find it. And I did.
I passed out, setting my internal alarm clock to wake me in two hours. I kept my right hand by the pistol holster on my thigh while my left hand held onto the chain connecting me to Ares. Any noises or threat would bring me awake immediately and I’d come up ready to fire. That’s just how I was.
One hundred and twenty minutes later, my eyes popped open and I stayed absolutely still, cataloging all the sounds in my environment. I didn’t detect any threats so I sat up, yawned once, and then took a swig of water.
“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.”
I turned. Ares was on the bed, her legs drawn up underneath her. She looked a little pale, but that was due to the blood loss. She hadn’t exactly been some bronzed sun worshipper before last night anyway.
“How you feeling?”
“All things considered,” she said. “Not bad.” She ran a hand over her neck. “Did I just imagine it? I can’t find any teeth marks.”
I shook my head. “Sorry to tell you, it was no dream. The marks vanish after a bite. I don’t know why.”
“Damn,” she said. “Here I was thinking I was just having a bad hangover.”
I looked around. The dog was gone. “Where’s the dog?”
Ares shook her head. “Gone when I woke up.”
I sighed. Too bad. I liked the little guy. But he apparently was well enough to make it on his own. I respected that.
I handed Ares the canteen. “Drink. You need your strength. We have to keep moving. I want to reach Diablo as quickly as possible.”
Ares frowned. “Too much to hope that you would amenable to taking a day off, huh? You’re really anxious to see me dead, aren’t you?”
