The Vampires Of Livix Twin Pack (Volumes #1 & #2)

by Smith, J Gordon

  “And you won’t.” I set the casting back on the bin with the others. “Fun to see the patent in real life.”

  Garin scanned the labels, “Pre-production samples waiting for the end customer to pick up.”

  Branoc led us through the metal door and up a narrow staircase of grungy tiled steps.

  “I’m apologizing ahead of time. What you’ll see in here is gruesome. Anna, if you want to wait while I take Garin through that is ok. But you may know clues.”

  Brett said, “I doubt I’ll have a clue. I’ve never seen this plant.”

  “Your father hangs out with some of the local militia and a passing comment they made to him and he to you could spark an idea.”

  Another steel door, but in better condition, closed off the landing at the top of the stairs. Branoc pushed through it into a tight lobby. Not much larger than an elevator but with a sliding glass window looking into a receptionist’s cube. Branoc opened the door on the far side of the lobby for us to follow. The receptionist’s chair was spun askew causing me to look down at the floor. I saw a body.

  “Oh!” I sucked air. I clamped my hands over my mouth suppressing my alarm.

  The receptionist lay slumped on the floor. She had been pretty but half her face, most of her neck, and chunks of her body dissolved, including bone – from the inside.

  Branoc paused, “That’s what we will see inside too. Anna, did you want to sit in one of the reception chairs rather than go in?”

  “Only a few feet from that body?” I said, but I nerved myself, “No. I’m not being left alone out here. I can handle more bodies. I think.” Brett paled from the blank eye staring out of that half consumed face.

  “Any of you let me know if you’ve had too much.” Branoc pushed through the door.

  The office space split into low walled desk cubes. Dual computer monitors mounted on brackets stood on most of the desks. Some of the monitors lay tipped over on the desks or floor as dissolving bodies whipped around in their last throws. A keyboard hung from its wire off the side of a desk with blood dripping from it into a pool soaking the carpet runner. Papers and chairs splashed with red gore littered the floor like a kindergarten watercolor project. A happy bouncing ball screen saver ran on a pair of monitors nearby.

  Miniature orange numbered pylons placed by police earlier corresponded with photographs.

  Branoc said, “The first calls of this type came from here but we’ve received others since. Including two deaths at The Vacuna Club.”

  “The club?”

  “Two vampires melted like this in the center of the dance floor. Spontaneously. Obviously a lot of witnesses. Good thing the darkness in there hid a lot.”

  Garin separated from us and moved carefully around the room, “These are all vampires.”

  “Yes.” Branoc turned looking at everything again, “Called here on the vampire-911 … by a dying vampire – that one with the phone.” a vampire lay in eroded ruin clutching a phone receiver. The handset urgently requested replacement in the cradle. The curly cord stretched taut from the floor up to the desk where the phone base teetered at the edge of the work surface only held by the taught phone line reaching across the desk and down a dark little cable mouse hole. “We’ve been finding vampires at home on the couch watching television. Not sure how it hit them like this or what’s causing the melting.”

  “Where are the other police from the cars?” Brett asked.

  “I had them take a break so we could talk.”

  Garin said, “Are they vampire police?”

  “Yes.”

  Garin reached for a mouse on a table.

  “No. Don’t touch with your fingers.”

  “– Sorry,” Garin pulled a pen from his pants pocket and pushed the mouse with it. The screen blinked demanding a password login. “That’s too bad.”

  “We’ll have the IT team here later to dismantle and inspect the equipment.”

  I walked carefully around the carpeted floor runners that defined the walk isles. The basic floor of white ceramic tiles contrasted sharply against the red blood and oozing body fluids. I looked across the office and saw a half wall topped with glass looking into a large conference room. Balloons pulled on cords anchored to the table. “What are the balloons? A party?”

  “A birthday cake.”

  “I’m going to take a look.”

  I walked into the conference room and the balloons proclaimed happy birthday and big sections of the red velvet birthday cake had been sliced out. Sweaty blue bottles of Massai stood arrayed at the far end. Plates and forks scattered still in the middle of the ongoing party. Big wax cheesy number candles blown out revealed the age of the recipient. Wishes written in shaky icing by someone in the office, obvious that no cake shop would have written this on a blank cake, Happy 735th Birthday.

  “Crap!” I recoiled. I never thought of it that way.

  Most of the cake slices revealed nibbling by polite vampires. But bottles of Massai, some empty and some half consumed, tipped over amid the bodies. One body clung to a bottle in pudgy fingers. I asked, “Poisoned by the bottles?”

  Branoc’s eyebrows lifted, “I wondered about poisoning at first but vampires don’t get poisoned like humans.”

  Garin crouched down to look closely without touching a bottle standing half full on a desk. “The date code shows this bottle came from the bottling plant last week.”

  Branoc nudged a bottle on the floor with his boot, “This one is the same. I’d expect most of these are similar if ordered in a batch for the party.”

  We checked more of the bottles and they showed the same manufacture date including the unopened bottles in the conference room.

  “Well, a possible clue. Thanks Anna.” Branoc moved through the room to a hallway. “This is the reason I wanted to bring you Garin, to see this utility room.”

  “I’m still surprised that a software company would want to co-locate with a casting plant. Too much heat and dust for computer servers to handle even with excessive care.”

  “I didn’t see any servers here other than a basic router and file storage. They appeared to access everything through the Internet.”

  Branoc pushed open the door shielding the utility room.

  “Who are they?” asked Garin as we stepped inside.

  Mats fitted the floor of the room from wall to wall while weapons hung upon the walls.

  “Training, but for what?” A bank of lockers lined a short off-shooting corridor to some burgundy fire suppression shut-off valves.

  Turning around, the wall holding the door claimed Garin’s attention.

  A large map covered the expansive wall detailing the town of Livix. Strings pinned to the map connected masses of papers and articles and company descriptions. Photographs of executives, workers, and security systems.

  Garin said, “The Bank of Draydon is there as well as Ramsburgh Industries along with photographs of my ex-finance and ex-engineering executives.” Both pictures marked with bold red X’s across the pictures.

  “What are they after? What does your plant make?” asked Branoc.

  Garin signed, “You’re not going to like my answer. It’s a top secret plant and because I don’t have security clearance not even I know. Yet.”

  “This has the marks of a terror cell. They are after some sort of weapon in your defense company.” Branoc looked across the map, “Are you sure you don’t know what’s made there? I find it hard to believe.”

  “My Mother owned the facility so I did not get involved until recently. Then when I did attempt finding out what is going on in there I had the Director of Engineering chasing me across the city intent on my murder.”

  “Chasing you in a black sport utility?” asked Brett.

  “Yes.” Garin waved his hand like brushing at a fly.

  “I’ll send my car insurance bill to you for the damages –”

  Branoc’s phone rang, “Yes? I see. Ok thanks. Clean it up.” He ended the call and said, “Another vam
pire nest. A family of six dead this way.” Then Branoc dialed his phone asking the previous caller, “Any Massai bottles about? Ok. What’s the date on them? Thanks.”

  Branoc paced across the mat looking at the deep stains and worn scuffs and scrapes sketched across its well used putty-colored surface, “The same date code as the bottles here.” He turned to Garin, “Keep your friends close. Check your Massai. It looks like we’ve got a t-cell plus another group.” He looked at the map again, “Brett, do you know if anything is going on with the militia?”

  “Not like this. They always talk about what to do with the vampires,” Brett scowled at Garin, “But it’s always talk and no doing. But then I don’t go to the meetings since I’m not a member.”

  I looked at Brett. His shoulders shrugged “What?”

  Branoc led us back into the office. He dropped a pair of bottles into a plastic evidence bag and drew a quick skull and cross-bones on the bag. I noticed the skull grinned with vampire teeth. “I’m going to have this analyzed and spread the word in the vampire network. This is bad if true.”

  “Why?” asked Brett.

  Garin answered, “This is bad because, unable to trust the Massai, and the vampires will turn to something they do trust – killing people.”

  Branoc shifted papers back and forth on a desk. He picked up a small box made of thin cardboard, the same feel as a cigarette carton, “This isn’t your regular affair.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A detonator. An explosion occurred a few weeks ago at the plant that made these and a carton of them disappeared off the shipping dock. Originally written off as a miss-shipment they thought mixed up with the assembly area that caught on fire. Now we know someone received it.”

  Garin looked across the desk, “There are two more in various states of dismantling and construction.” bits of wire strips coiled and snaked across the work surface. A soldering station still maintained a hot tip in its coil stand. Pliers and screwdrivers and volt meters lay scattered. A few black and white LCD screens slid out of a tipped over box of ten. “There are only five screens here. They already built some devices that are not here.”

  Branoc and Garin looked across other desks. “These are shipping papers for manufacturing equipment.”

  Branoc shifted some other papers aside, “Flu doses?” He looked at Garin, “What could they be working on with flu vaccine equipment?”

  Retaliation against the Massai?” asked Brett.

  “They didn’t know about that until too late.” Branoc said.

  “They worked independently.”

  “Your friend’s father’s name is Gale, right?” asked Branoc.

  A lump appeared in my throat, “Yes, Gale. His last name is Gale.”

  “Here’s his name on this shipment tag.”

  “Working for them?”

  “No. Because of what happened, I suspect these vampires coerced him into working on building information for them. I bet they forced him to do it under threats to his family – which they made real.”

  Garin focused on a few papers on another desk, “Could the Militia have tried stopping him from helping these vampires?”

  I stepped back and bumped a keyboard into a mouse. The monitor behind me clicked as it awoke from sleep. I looked at it. One of the pair of split screens showed my Faceplate page.

  “Why do they have my Faceplate page open?”

  “What do you mean your Faceplate page is open?”

  I stood in shock. “Is that why I couldn’t get into my account?”

  Garin rushed to my side, “Why do you think they are stalking her, Branoc?”

  Branoc dropped the papers from his hands and came to the desk.

  My agitation rose. Like my stomach gurgling in my throat. “They must have been in my apartment and taken the pictures off the fridge?”

  Brett crowded close, “Are they stalking Anna because of Garin?”

  Garin studied the display, “Wait, that’s a remote screen.” He looked at Branoc as he reached for the mouse cupping his hand through his shirt sleeve. Branoc nodded. “They hacked into someone else’s PC and are watching what is posted on their screen and using the camera to show the room.”

  Garin moved the mouse down and clicked on another minimized window. A camera view popped up showing papers with bright red crayons. Anna’s pictures taken from her refrigerator on someone’s desk. Four little pieces of colorful papers with “Anty Ana We <3 U” on them.

  “How do we find out where this other computer is at?”

  Brett said, “There’s a reflection of a bowling trophy or something on a plastic bezel. Can you move the camera?”

  “I’ll have to touch the keyboard,” Garin said to Branoc.

  “Go ahead.”

  Garin typed at the keyboard and brought up a text screen. It flashed some code, “They have a nifty virus program that’s allowing them to do this on that computer.” He clicked on the mouse to drag the text screen aside and made the camera window larger. He typed a few more commands on the keyboard and the lens on that far computer zoomed in and refocused.

  “Not a bowling trophy. A marksman award, if I’m reading this right, it’s backward in the reflection. Big Bruce’s Range is on there. 2010. 2009? No, 2010.”

  “Still blurry to me.” I said, squinting.

  Garin changed the zoom and brightness and contrast controls but the angle of the camera to the award and other reflections on the award plate washed the rest out.

  “Big Bruce is one of the Livix Militia leaders,” Brett said, “His name is likely on everything.”

  Branoc said, “But we know it’s someone tied into that group. I’ve met Bruce before. I agree his name is on everything like that. But Big Bruce might remember who won that award in 2010.”

  Branoc snapped a photograph of the display and the desk. He sent an email from his phone with the picture, “I need to tell my team we touched this unit. They won’t like it.” He put the phone in his pocket and said, “We need to visit Big Bruce.”

  -:- Eleven -:-

  Branoc drove into the Livix Duck Club parking lot and the three of us got out.

  A guy stood up from a camp stool by the door, “Brett, your Dad isn’t here.” He wore faded army surplus trousers and a dark brown T-shirt. “Who are your friends?” his eyes only glanced at me but kept staring at Branoc and Garin.

  Brett said, “We’re here to see Big Bruce.”

  “See Sammy at the grill.” The guy pushed back the door, still fixing his eyes on the two vampires.

  The dark interior sparkled from old shiny varnished tables and chairs reflecting color splashes from the bright neon beer and tobacco signs hanging on the walls. Sammy scraped the top of the grill in long practiced strokes. Vapors of water steamed off it and into the hood.

  “Looking for Big Bruce,” said Branoc.

  Bruce set the sandwich he half finished on the plate at the bar near Sammy. Two rubbery pickled eggs spun like yellowed eyeballs nudged by the released crusts of his sandwich. “Branoc. You caught me having a snack. Sammy can make you a burger too if you’re hungry.”

  “Not necessary,” he pulled out a stool next to Bruce and sat down, resting his elbow on the shiny bar edge that swooped in a baroque ogee curve to comfortably fit elbows.

  Bruce looked at the others, “Hi Brett. I haven’t seen your Dad in a week or so. Did he send you for supplies?”

  Branoc answered, “No. We’re tracking down some concerning recent events.”

  “– That sounds ominous,” Bruce picked up one of his eggs and a flash of yellowed albumen like a third eye shown from his mouth until his lips wrapped around it and he chewed.

  “Do you remember who might have won a marksman award in 2010?”

  Bruce chewed on the fiery egg, “Ooh. Sammy those eggs are extra hot this batch.”

  “– Only way to make ’em.” said Sammy as his scrapper ground into a fresh area of the grill. “You want an egg? Fire on both ends!” Sammy winked
at Brett. He went back to scraping.

  “Marksman award in 2010 …” Bruce pushed his hands against the bar, “A busy year, 2010. A lot of people got that award,” Bruce leaned closer to Branoc, “I make it easy to get that award as they build a lot of confidence in the members.”

  “I’m getting confident one of your survivalist award winners is doing some bad things.”

  “What kind of bad things?”

  “Could be simply wire-tapping fraud or even accessory to murder.”

  “Both of those activities are serious.”

  “The level of accessory involvement can be big, Bruce.”

  “Now, let’s be civil, Mr. Branoc.”

  Sammy paused in mid stroke of a scrape.

  “I’ve got murderers and one of your members has hacked into Faceplate accounts searching for something. It wouldn’t be a problem for my investigation but one account has ties to the vampire community.”

  I realized I became that tie to the vampire community.

  “Sammy, put the scraper away. Can you get me the award book from 2010?”

  Sammy set the scraper aside. He rubbed his hands clean on his apron and left through the slot at the end of the bar.

  “It will take Sammy a few minutes to get the book,” Bruce stood up and went to the small fridge behind the bar, “I think we’ll have some time to talk. Can I ask you if you’re thirsty like a good host?” He put a pair of nearly frozen pops on the counter and then reached under another counter and retrieved a pair of blue bottles, “I apologize. These are warm because we don’t have many takers.”

  Brett took one of the pops and handed me the other. I waved him off. Garin and Branoc stared at the two crisp blue bottles sitting silently on the counter.

  “What’s the date on those?”

  “Date? They are sealed. I think they stay good for years that way.” Bruce lifted one of the bottles and spun it around. He leaned over under a little light and found the small print, “Looks like three years old. Vintage like wine,” he chuckled offering it to Garin.

  Garin took it and scanned the bottle. He set it back on the bar.