by Evan Currie
* * *
Far away from the Coast Guard cutter, back in the middle of the town of Barrow, one Nathan Hale was scanning the once-more-deserted streets through his spotter scope as he waited for contact from the others.
If anything, the place was even creepier now that he knew what it hid, but then sometimes that was the name of the game.
This time the sniper specialist had picked a nice rooftop with a decent line of site along several main streets and a reasonable shot at most of the town. He’d left his canopy behind at the last blind, and was curled up in a thermally insulated urban ghillie suit that would have stood out like a flare on the tin roof except for the extremely low light conditions.
He was passing the time by scanning the town building by building, using the FLIR scope and jotting down the results in descending order from hottest to coolest. The results wouldn’t be perfect — it was likely that some buildings were more effectively insulated than others — but it should provide a good indication of the activity within.
Hale had seen a lot of insane things in his life, most of them in the last dozen or so years since he’d acquired the sword he rarely parted from and earned his nom de guerre. Of all those things, he could honestly say that these creatures currently occupying the town of Barrow qualified as a solid three on his creep-o-meter. Most people would have ranked them higher, but he’d once been forced to—
Best not think about that just now, Hale told himself as he felt his fist clench and his arm start to shake a little.
“Nanaja,” he whispered into the chill Alaskan wind, “you place me in the strangest situations.”
His words went unanswered, but that was the way things should be as far as he was concerned. When the gods — or goddesses, in this case — answered you…well, you could be certain that you were in some deep kimchee. Either that or you were insane.
Usually the latter, or he hoped so at least. It would be bad, really bad, if everyone who thought a god was speaking to them was actually right.…
Though, now that I think of it, that could explain the state of the world today.
From experience, Nathan felt that he could comfortably say that the only thing worse than a bunch of lunatics acting the way they did because they were deluded enough to believe gods were speaking to them would be that same bunch of lunatics actually having gods speak to them.
His comm hummed softly in his ear, causing him to stiffen and cock his head away from his spotter scope.
A moment later Nathan set the scope aside and eased his Sassy out and forward, so that the heavy antimateriel rifle’s big barrel was nudged just over the eave of the roof. It was almost time to get back to work.
He uncapped the scope and started checking everything carefully. There was still time, but it would be better to put everything in order now than be found wanting in the clutch.
* * *
Elsewhere in the town of Barrow, a very annoyed and increasingly frustrated entity was pacing the cement floor of a large building. Towering machines lifted up all around it, dwarfing the human-sized figures that milled about, watching…waiting.
The term “vampire” meant little or nothing to this one, nor did any other word. Existence simply happened, and the continuation of existence was part and parcel of the way things were. She existed, she would not permit that to be challenged, and that was that.
Even so, it was becoming ever more clear that this situation was untenable.
She’d effectively taken over an entire population center, a feat none had managed in centuries, but now she was trapped.
For hundreds and hundreds of miles in every direction there was nothing but cold, empty land. And soon, if her information was correct, the extreme cold would come in. Freezing temperatures could be withstood for a time but not to the extremes that were reported for this area. She and hers would be frozen in place within minutes, lost to an eternal slumber she had no intention of ever rejoining.
Yet what was there to do?
EAST OF BARROW
The lights of Barrow came into sight as the group crested a small rise. Masters knew that they were looking for a fight, but for the first time in his professional life he found himself feeling completely uncertain about what lay ahead.
When he had been drummed out of the navy so many years ago, Masters had walked out of the regimented life of a SEAL and into a world whose existence was a revelation. There were things out there that defied everything he’d ever been taught, everything he’d ever believed, but at the time he’d been too lost to see the forest for the trees.
He knew that if he hadn’t met Norton in that beachside bar down in Tijuana, he’d probably have drunk himself into an early grave, either from liver necrosis or from some slice of darkness that caught up to him as he stumbled home from a bar.
The veil.
Even after a decade, he shivered at the thought of it. The first line of defense for civilized society, and only a fraction of a fraction of people even knew it existed. He’d blundered through it — not when that damned squid ate an Arleigh Burke — class destroyer the way everyone thought — but months later when he couldn’t, wouldn’t let it go.
Some things a man couldn’t unsee, and one of those things had changed his life forever.
Now he was marching across the semifrozen tundra, eyes wide open as he found himself actually looking forward to a vampire hunt of all things.
The three newcomers to his little group were interesting, though he still wondered if he should have taken his first gut check at its face value and told them that there was no chance in hell they could join them. The two men were one thing; it hadn’t taken him long to work out what the old geezer back at the lodge meant when he called them “fell warriors.”
They were military, both of them. Special Forces or he was a jarhead.
The girl…now, she was another story.
She was dressed far too lightly for this kind of weather, but like Norton she showed no signs of being chilled. She carried only knives, unlike her companions, who were armed with some respectable artillery, all things considered.
Tactical shotguns were the order of the day, though both of the men also carried a pair of wicked-looking custom knives and swords over their shoulders. Unorthodox by modern standards, but hell, he was carrying a kukri he’d taken from a guy who’d tried to kill him. Masters figured he was in no position to be calling the kettle black.
He stepped back to where Norton was standing, gazing out over the town.
“Any ideas?” he asked, lips twisted as he too looked out at the lights.
Norton was silent for a time. “Not really. No one’s dealt with anything like this for centuries, Hawk. Vampires aren’t common anymore. Oh, there are still a few here and there, but they usually get cut down pretty fast by the local community. They know what to look for in these creatures’ usual stomping grounds. This kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen.”
“None of this shit is supposed to happen, Alex,” Masters said. “I wasn’t supposed to watch my team get killed by some slimy piece of shit from the depths, and these people weren’t supposed to die by the hands of some old-world monster. I hate to say it, but what’s supposed to happen and what actually does have very little to do with each other. We’re not here to worry about what should happen; we’re here to fix what has happened.”
Norton sighed, but nodded. “Right. Okay, well, we’ve got to find the patient zero.”
“What happens to the others when we take out patient zero?”
“They die.”
The two men turned to look at Hannah, who was standing a short distance away, the chill wind wafting her dark hair about her face as she too looked ahead at the town. Masters glanced from her over to Norton, who shrugged. “Well technically, they’re already dead,” he said, “but yeah.…”
“So kill this patient zero, and it’s like an off switch for the rest?”
Norton grimaced. “They’ll wander around for a while, mostly directionless. S
ome might go after their families, if there’s anyone left to go after, but without the pack leader to renew them, they won’t last long.”
“They’ll rot,” Hannah offered, “from the inside out, while they’re walking around. It’ll be…messy.”
“Lovely.” Masters suppressed a shiver at the flat tone in the young woman’s voice. There was something about her that didn’t seem to be quite right, in his opinion, and it wasn’t just the fact that she’d joined in on this little hunt. “Do we have any idea where this patient zero is?”
“No.” Norton shook his head. “It could be anywhere.”
“Well, we have to narrow it down,” Masters growled. “We don’t have the time, or the manpower, to search the entire town.”
“She will be somewhere close enough to control her chattel.”
Norton and Masters looked to Hannah, who hadn’t even glanced in their direction before speaking. “She?” they asked at the same time.
“This much death and destruction, without any flashy pronouncements of godhood or any other idiotic evil overlord nonsense?” she asked, her lips tilting up in the corners. “Let’s say that I consider it a fair bet.”
“Right,” Masters said dryly. “So she is probably close. What else?”
“It’ll have to be warm,” Norton said after a moment. “Colder temperatures slow them down, like they would for any cold-blooded beast.”
“That doesn’t narrow things down much. They could find heat in any of the houses or buildings since the power’s still on.”
“So we cut the power,” Hannah said with a delicate shrug of her shoulders.
Masters exchanged a glance with Norton, and then looked over to where Rankin had joined them a few moments before.
“What do you two think?”
“Makes sense,” Rankin shrugged. “If we can’t find the bitch, let’s flush her out.”
Masters frowned at his old friend, surprised that Eddie of all people was taking Hannah at her word concerning patient zero’s sex. That said, it did make sense to him, so he glanced back at Norton. “Any reason not to?”
“None I can think of. Do we know where the generators are for this place?”
“We do.”
The first of the two Asatru men spoke as he stepped in closer.
“There’s an electricity co-op in the southern district of town,” the man said. “It runs off the compressed natural gas from the wells. Shutting it down without blowing the place up will be the trick.”
“We’ve got an EOD specialist,” Masters said. “If we have to, blowing the place up is an option. Still, I suppose it would be better to leave it in one piece.”
He considered it, then glanced over to Rankin. “You served some time in the engineering section of some big ships. Can you take care of it?”
Rankin shrugged, thinking about it for a moment. “Yeah, no problem. CNG is a little different from diesel, to be sure, but it can’t be too different. We’ll have to watch for pressure valves and monitors, though.”
“All right, we’ll hit the power generators first.” Masters nodded, crouching down as he pulled out his map of the town and braced it on one knee while hitting it with his flashlight. “Where is it?”
The Asatru man who’d spoken pointed out the spot on the map. “Right here.”
“All right, so we’re better off circling south and coming in from the west?”
“Yes, sir,” the man said.
“Right. Okay, then that’s what we’ll do,” Masters decided. “We’ll slip in near the coast this time, and then cut down toward the co-op. Everyone good?”
“Houah, sir.”
Masters glanced at the man, his eyes speculative. “Ranger?”
“One-o-one, sir.” The man smiled. “Pardon me for saying so, but it took you long enough to ask.”
“I didn’t want to annoy anyone Alex considers worthy of his time,” Masters admitted. “Your friend?”
“Sammy’s a crazy Canuck,” the Ranger said. “JTF2.”
Masters nodded, whistling silently. A Ranger and one of Canada’s special-operations men — he couldn’t have asked for much better. The Ranger title spoke for itself in his opinion. Masters himself was Ranger tabbed, as were many SEALs, so he knew that the man beside him knew how to think and operate under pressure.
Joint Task Force Two, on the other hand, was Canada’s special-forces group. They were trained to Special Air Service standards, and they held themselves fully up to said standards. Unlike the United States forces, who both enjoyed and courted a certain infamy, the Canadians believed in operational security. They didn’t go on reality TV, and they didn’t talk — they just served, and then went home.
Officially, more or less, the men of the JTF2 had been involved in every major world conflict of the last two decades save the second Iraq war. Canada had officially refused to back the United States’ invasion of Iraq. Unofficially, however, Masters had served some time in the sandbox, and he knew for a fact that there had been a couple of squads there quietly backing up the US troops. Canada and the United States were brother nations, and while brothers fight, they also have each other’s backs.
He extended a hand to the Ranger. “Hawk Masters.”
“Rick Plains.” The man shook his hand. “And the Canuck here is Perry Rand.”
“So how did a Ranger get into this Asatru stuff anyway?”
Rick shrugged. “Honestly, I just slid into it sideways. I wasn’t looking for a religion, but it felt right. Learned in the service that when something feels right, most times it is.”
Masters nodded; he could understand and appreciate that.
“Well, good to meet you.” Masters packed away the map. “Time to move.”
They all nodded, heading a little southwest as they started to circle down around the town and airfield. Masters silently thumbed his radio, speaking softly now. “On the move, Djinn. Can you spot for us?”
* * *
Perched hidden on his rooftop, Hale watched the group in the distance as they circled south around the airfield. There was nothing moving near them, so he sent a two-tone burst to give them the all clear.
The town was as dead as it had been when they’d first arrived, no pun intended. For the moment, the only things moving were the flames from the burning oil wells, and the dying fires around town and out on the strip where the C-130 had been.
That was one hell of a show. Nathan smiled very slightly. He’d been ready to blow his hide to cover those three, but it hadn’t been needed. He wasn’t sure how many of the things had burned up when the plane erupted, but it probably came close to matching the previous body count in one fell swoop.
CHAPTER 14
“Captain Andrews!”
Judith looked over at the junior Coast Guard officer and waved him off for a moment while she finished her instructions to the pilot of the chopper she and her men were about to take out. Only when that was done did she step back from the bird and join him.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“There’s radio traffic on the frequencies you had us monitor, ma’am.”
“In the clear?” she asked.
“No ma’am, encrypted and tone code, ma’am.”
Judith nodded. “Thank you.”
She dismissed him and headed straight for the three SEALs, who were waiting, more or less patiently, for their orders.
“Looks like Masters is on the move, gentlemen.”
They glanced at each other, then nodded.
“We know,” Mack said.
Judith rolled her eyes. “Nice of you to let me know.”
“He’s in contact with Hale,” Mack said. “Not sure what his play is, but The Djinn is covering him as he circles south and around town, back to near where we originally landed.”
Judith grimaced. Radio discipline was ironclad in these situations, and she knew it wasn’t her place to cut in and ask the idiot what the hell he was doing. He was in command of his squad in the field, and she
couldn’t override that even under normal circumstances. Since the admiral had given her specific orders on the subject, her hands were tied.
Given her druthers, after what she’d seen, Judith would have pulled the whole team out of the field and called in an assault group.
Whatever the hell was going on in Barrow, she was damned well sure it wasn’t a job for a special-operations team.
“As soon as we get an idea of where they are and what the hell they’re up to,” she said, “we move out.”
“Ooh Rah,” the SEALs said as one.
She would have been a lot happier if they sounded a little more enthusiastic about it.
* * *
Harold “Hawk” Masters was splayed out over a semifrozen dirt embankment to the west of Barrow, looking into town through a pair of high-powered binoculars.
It was an exercise in frustration more than a legitimate intelligence-gathering action, however, since no matter where he looked, nothing was moving.
“Damn,” he finally cursed. “Nothing’s outside, and I can’t even see through any of the windows.”
“This king has control over its pawns,” Norton said. “That’s not so good for us, I’m afraid.”
“Queen.”
Masters glanced up at Hannah, but ignored her correction. Not that he thought she was wrong, but honestly it was irrelevant.
“Lovely. More good news,” Masters sighed. “Lay it on me.”
“It indicates a strong Queen,” Norton said, with a sly glance at Hannah. “And a fairly well developed intelligence. Stupid enemies are always preferable.”
“Well, you have me there,” Masters acknowledged. “But I don’t see as how we’ve got much say in the matter, so we’d better get ready to move out.”
Decision made, they dropped back down from the embankment and headed around to where the others were waiting.
“We’re heading straight in to the generators,” Masters said, “so stay low, move fast. Eddie, take point. I’ve got drag, so Rand and Plains, take security positions.”
The two Asatru nodded. Security positions would basically put them on either side of Norton and Hannah, treating them like two VIPs in a protection detail. That wasn’t their job, exactly, but neither of them was going to complain about it.
