by Mark Tufo
“Don’t cry,” was all he could say.
She looked up at what was left of him and the only part of him that didn’t look like a monster was his eyes. They were still as blue as she remembered. In his other hand he held the IV bags.
“What do you think, Jay?” Mitchell asked as the men ran their drills.
“I think I’d like some of that go-juice you got them on, that’s what I think,” Wolf replied, still awed at the speed and accuracy of the warriors going through the live-fire drills.
Mitchell chuckled. “I know. But you also know that without the constant monitoring by our docs and the ongoing regimen, your heart would explode in less than a month. Lisa wouldn’t like that and something tells me she’d have my ass on a platter over it. No matter how good you might think you were feeling prior to that. If it were a one-and-done type of thing, I might would consider it, buddy.”
Jay nodded, but he was still jealous of the abilities of the squad, and they hadn’t yet reached their full potential. “How long before they’re ready to hit the streets and rid the world of hobgoblins and ghoulies?”
“We’re looking at probably another couple of weeks of intense training,” Mitchell said. “They’re still breaking out of their old training ideas and embracing the single squad ideal.” Mitchell headed up a flight of stairs to a control room with live video feed screens. “In the past we only used Navy SEALs and Army Rangers or Green Berets. This time we’re incorporating Air Force Combat Controllers and an LAPD SWAT sniper as well.”
“Why break from tradition, Matt?”
“We’re starting to see a lot more air support in our strikes and the Combat Controllers have more than proved themselves in the operations in the Middle East. Ya know, they were the first in to coordinate air strikes the first time we went over there.”
“I do now.”
“Since we’re using more air support, they seemed a natural. And they seem to be mixing in well. They have the hand-to-hand and small arms training that we expected, and they have nerves of steel. A good mix. So far, they’re proving more than capable.” Mitchell seemed quite proud that this group had meshed as well as they had.
“And to be completely honest, it was Laura’s decision to include them. She hand-selected the entire team,” he stated proudly with a wave of his hand, displaying the wall of monitors showing the helmet cams during the live fire scenarios. “And that little gal from SWAT was one of the first females to ever make it as a SWAT officer. Tough as friggin’ nails, too.”
A moment later a claxon sounded and a red light went off indicating the end to the timed run. Mitchell escorted Wolf down to the training grounds to get input from the men. Once they were both down on the training floor, the men had already began tearing down the weaponry and cleaning them.
“What’s your take, boys?” Mitchell asked as he approached them.
Tracy looked up from the table of weapons with a lopsided grin. “To be honest, sir? I’d like to have one of these little bastards for myself. Hell, I think I could hide one of these P90s in my boxers,” he said with a chuckle.
Someone else muttered under their breath, “There’d be plenty of room for one.” Although it brought a round of laughs, nobody was man enough to admit who it was.
Mueller offered constructive input in that he would like to see a both-eyes-open type of scope on top of the P90. Perhaps an Aim point or EOTech and do away with the factory ghost ring sight. Mitchell assured him that once they were familiar with the weaponry, the men would have their choice of optics for the weapons.
Jacobs asked if the FiveseveN had night-sites available. He didn’t like the answer. The factory did have them available, but they weren’t adjustable. Jay’s company, however, did offer adjustable night sites and he told Matt that if the men wanted them, he could have his smiths expedite as many sets as needed and their smiths could install them without much problem.
Marshal, Lamb, and Sanchez were all checking out the SCAR 17. They had yet to actually get to use it during the drills since the weapon would be set up primarily as a sniping platform. They were really hoping to convince the colonel to allow them to install the shorter barrel and use it as a CQB weapon as well. Both of the men felt that the weapon could be used as a short range sniping weapon and a close quarter battle rifle effectively if the colonel would give them a chance to play with the platform and prove it. Wolf and Mitchell weren’t sure about it, but both men agreed that if the two snipers were that confident, they would at least give them the opportunity to prove their theory. Sanchez liked it just the way it was.
Once the Q&A session was over, Jay took his leave and, with the bottle of single malt that Colonel Mitchell sent as a gift, headed back to Illinois to manufacture up more of the ‘special’ rounds that the squad would need.
Chapter 241
Jack Thompson tried once more to get out of bed, but his legs were hurting too much to take any weight. He almost cried out from the pain and collapsed back onto the bed when the door opened and Nadia rushed in to collect him and help him back under the covers. She berated him for attempting such a foolish move when he was obviously so hurt, that’s when she noticed that most of the bruises and cuts on his body were healed completely – far too quickly and far too completely for a human to have healed. Many of his wounds should have left deep purple scars, yet he had none.
She gave him a cool sponge bath and dried him with a soft towel, searching the entire time for the marks and scars that had been there when he first arrived, yet finding very little physical remains to indicate what he had been through other than the broken bones that had yet to knit. She brought him his meal and fresh bedding and excused herself rather than sitting with him to keep him company like she had the last few nights she had brought him food.
Jack felt alone in this place and missed Nadia’s presence. He didn’t feel like eating tonight. She had brought him more of the toasted sourdough, sweet milk, and this time some roasted meat that looked very much like rabbit. It smelled wonderful, but he just didn’t have the appetite. Probably from the pain he caused himself from trying to get out of bed. Or perhaps from the chiding he received from his blonde haired caretaker. He wasn’t sure anymore.
As he sat and pondered his circumstances, there was a gentle knock on his door and it slowly opened. Rufus entered with a troubled face. “May I speak with you, Jack?”
“Yes, of course,” he replied.
“Nadia brings me her thoughts and concerns and I felt I must share them with you. For your own good, if nothing more.” Rufus was uneasy, and Jack could tell that something was troubling him, but he had no idea if perhaps he had somehow upset Nadia more than he knew by trying to get out of bed, or if it was something else.
“She, of course, has been your nursemaid since you arrived here. She has changed your dressings, given you bedside baths, seen to all of your needs, so she alone would best know things,” Rufus began.
“Okay.” Jack wasn’t sure where this was going, but a sudden thought of a doctor trying to tell his patient that he was about to die from an ingrown toenail suddenly came to mind.
“She tells me that your wounds have almost healed. Well, except, of course, for your bones, which will still take some time.”
“And this is bad, because…”
“Because humans do not heal this quickly,” Rufus stated rather bluntly. “Or this completely.”
Jack looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Jack, you should have bruising. You should still have open wounds. And, had they healed, you would have scars,” Rufus explained. “You’ve been here barely a week and your outward appearance is one of complete health.”
Jack’s mind still wasn’t quite grasping what Rufus was getting at. “I still don’t get it. What are trying to say?”
Rufus sighed heavily. “Jack, we know from a rather thorough examination when you were brought in that you were not bitten by any of the lycans during the battle. Therefore, you could not ha
ve contracted viral lycanthropy from them. You could not have been infected by any of us. You still have a heartbeat, and you did not heal almost immediately, therefore, you have not been infected by a vampire…”
“So?” Jack still wasn’t following Rufus’ line of thought.
“You are obviously infected with something,” Rufus stated. “Otherwise, you would not be healing so fast.”
Jack smiled. “Oh. I get it. You wanna know why I’m getting better so quick?”
“Exactement,” Rufus stated.
“Simple, really.” Jack stated. “You see, when we enter into the squad, we go through an augmentation process. It speeds us up, makes us faster, helps us hear better, see better, stronger, increased reaction times, et cetera. It also makes us heal faster and we get inoculated against vampire bites.” Jack was smiling now. “So if you and your buddies had decided to make me into a midnight snack after you brought me here, you’d have thrown up everything you ate since kindergarten and I still wouldn’t have gotten infected.”
Rufus was obviously thinking. Hard. If there was an inoculation against vampires, there could be a cure. Or something similar. Or, perhaps not.
But, IF there was an inoculation against vampirism, why not just give it to the masses, and prevent all vampires from feeding. Something wasn’t right. Either Jack wasn’t telling the whole story, or someone wasn’t telling Jack the whole story.
“Jack, if I may be so bold? May we have a small sample of your blood? Simply for testing?” Rufus asked.
Jack smiled. “Why would I care? It’s not like you could make an anti-anti-vampire shot from it.” He laughed. Then he sobered. “Could you?”
“Somehow, I doubt it. Non, my dear boy. I simply want to have it tested. Believe it or not, we have some of the best hematologists in the world right here. We are always looking for a cure to this damned disease,” Rufus stated. “I’m not about to hope that your blood might help us find that, but I have a wicked feeling that someone isn’t being completely honest with you. I’d simply like to get to the bottom of it all and find out what is true.”
“Knock yourself out, Rufus,” Jack said. “Just leave me enough to keep the old ticker pumping.”
“Er, oui. We won’t be needing that much. Perhaps, just a vial will do. Thank you, though.”
Evan Peters drained the last of the IV bags and could feel his mind clearing. The fog of mindless hunger that kept him trapped behind the veil of feral ferocity was slowly dissipating. He watched as his skin began to regain its luster, his hands and arms filling out again like a slowly filled water balloon. He lifted a strand of his limp and lifeless, dull hair and watched as the color slowly came back to it and a light sheen returned to it.
“Like the fountain of youth,” Laura murmured, still sitting behind the bars of his cell. She had observed his transformation with total awe. He knew that she had to dispose of the bags, lest they both be caught.
“I only wish it hadn’t been human blood. It will only make the transition to animal blood later that much more difficult,” he replied. He lifted his eyes to meet hers and she saw once again the man she had admired for so long. The man that she had grown to care for. The man she had fallen in love with. She knew she was risking everything by doing this and could only hope that if she were found out that Matt would understand. “That is assuming that there will be a transition allowed,” Evan continued.
“We won’t get caught,” she said, hoping she sounded convincing.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Evan handed her the empty bags carefully through the silver bars. “But in the event Colonel Mitchell decides to check on his prisoner, how am I supposed to explain my sudden increase in good health?” he asked her. “Stray rats?”
“Not funny,” She replied, stuffing the empty bags into her shirt. “I don’t have an answer for that. I’m hoping that I can breach returning you to your duties with him in the very near future.”
Evan eyed her carefully. “That could be dangerous for you. Career wise, anyway.”
“If we’re found out, I just washed my career down the tubes anyway,” she replied.
“So why would you do this?” he asked, the answer already tickling the back of his mind. Still, he hoped she would say what he had longed to hear.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She said, not making eye contact. She glanced down the hallways again to make sure the coast was clear. “Maybe so I could start sleeping at night again.” She smiled at him as she got up to go. “I’ll try to get more, but I can’t promise when.” Laura turned to leave when Evan slid his hand between the bars and held her shoulder. She turned to face him once more.
“Thank you,” was all he could bring himself to tell her.
Laura simply nodded before she slipped down the hallway.
Mitchell sat in his office reviewing the progress reports and approving requisition forms for the next quarter. MS4 had a four-man research and development team that specialized in sniffing out the newest in body armors and next generation protective gear. Although they tested it as best as they could, and felt confident that it was the best that could be had, the stuff didn’t come cheap. Laura was more than capable of making the decision to procure the stuff, but Mitchell liked being a hands-on kind of CO. He wanted to know exactly what his men were counting on to bring them back from every mission. He observed as the R&D team put each new prospective item through its paces and ran every possible scenario conceivable. Light weight, durable, and strong enough to withstand teeth, claws and projectiles was the name of the game. Fire proof was a plus, but no matter what, it could not, under any circumstances, limit their range of motion. That’s a tall order to fill, but with due diligence, the best of the best was found.
Mitchell just didn’t like having to pay for it. The ‘toys’ as the oversight committee was so fond of calling their equipment, were getting more and more expensive, and with the devastating blow MS4 took in south Texas, their return on investment wasn’t looking too great. He kept hoping that they could find a ‘cure’ shot…an anti-virus to their main enemy – the vampires – that, when shot, would either kill them instantly or return them to their previously human state. That was what Doctor Peters was working on before the morons on the oversight committee demanded he couldn’t be trusted and decided he should be starved to death. Starved to death! Hah! How do you starve something that is already dead? Mitchell thought. He had half a mind to start feeding the man himself…correction, the creature. Peters stopped being a man the night he was infected. Yet, there was something about him that Mitchell found agreeable. Matt couldn’t explain it, but he did trust him. Laura trusted him. And he felt that Peters was close to finding them a usable weapon against the blood suckers.
A knock at the door broke his chain of thought. “Come,” Mitchell stated.
Laura walked in and made straight for the single malt. She poured herself half a glass and sat in the chair facing Mitchell. Matt waited for her to give a clue why she was there, but she never met his eyes. She simply downed the glass and allowed the amber liquid to burn her throat and warm her belly. She waited a moment to see if it would give her more courage, but she found that it didn’t. If anything, it made her slightly more nervous. Matt sat back in his chair, slightly intrigued at Laura’s unorthodox behavior, yet he still waited. He knew his ex-CIA officer well enough that she would tell him whatever was on her mind when she was ready, but this behavior was definitely not her usual.
She stood to pour another glass. While her back was still to him she asked, “Care to join me?”
“What’s the occasion?” Matt asked, not sure he really wanted to know.
“Maybe the end of my career,” Laura stated cautiously, her back still to her Commanding Officer.
Matt was silent for a moment. Then flatly he said, “If that’s the case, make mine a double.” Laura poured him a glass to match hers and handed it to him. They both sat in silence a moment longer. Neither drank the scotch she had prepared, but Matt allowed her tim
e to prepare whatever it was she was about to tell him.
“I fed Evan,” she said softly.
Matt sat quietly, staring into the amber liquid in his glass. He surprised her by not exploding instantly. Rather, he took a drink of the scotch and leaned back in his chair. “What happened?”
Laura finally made eye contact with him. He didn’t appear angry at all. Rather, he seemed more curious. “The clinic was tossing outdated IV blood. I offered to take it to the incinerator. Instead, I gave it to Evan. I just couldn’t bear the thought of him being…like…that anymore.”
“And…”
“And…he got better. With just four bags of outdated blood he looks almost as well as the day we escorted him in there.”
“What am I supposed to do with this information, Laura?” Matt swallowed the rest of his drink to give her a moment to actually think about the position he was now in. “If I allow him to start being fed, I go against the OC. He’d still be in prison.” Matt stood and paced his office, his own thoughts fighting with him. “If I were to authorize his release, who’s to say he wouldn’t be totally pissed at us and go on a rampage for having him locked up for these past years? I know I would.”
“I don’t think he—” Laura tried to debate, but Matt cut her off again,
“And there’s no way in hell I could get livestock blood in here again without the OC finding out about it.”
“The guy at the clinic said that they have blood sent to the incinerator daily.”
“And you think the OC wouldn’t find out?” Matt asked.
“Matt, he was this close!” she cried. “You know it. I know it. And I think that’s why the OC shut him down.” She stood up and walked to the window in his office overlooking the facility. “His lab is right there. It’s still equipped. It’s all been mothballed. The only thing missing is HIM!”
