Department 19: Battle Lines

by Hill, Will

  “Because you are the commanding officer of an organisation that has dedicated itself to destroying my kind,” said Dracula. “How would it look if I were to grant you mercy, or allow you the release of a quick death? What is being done to you brings me no pleasure, but even you must see that it is necessary. An example must be made, I’m sorry to say.”

  Seward knew full well that his suffering gave the ancient vampire great pleasure, but he forced himself to ignore the lie and returned his gaze to the stone wall that encircled the balcony and the horizon beyond it. Somewhere, in the deepest, darkest corners at the back of his mind, an idea had begun to form.

  “How does this all end?” he asked. “After all the blood and the screaming and the fighting. What happens then?”

  Dracula refilled their glasses. “When I was a man,” he said, eventually, “I had no desire to rule the world, despite what the histories may claim. I was Prince of Wallachia, the country of my birth, and that was all I had ever aspired to. I fought to keep her safe, to repel those who would take my throne from me, and I did so with great vigour. But I never wished to be Alexander, with an empire that spanned the globe. My own country was enough.”

  “You invaded Transylvania,” said Seward, mildly. “And Hungary.”

  Dracula laughed. “Transylvania was in the pocket of the Turks and they deserved no less than they received. I took no pleasure in raiding Hungary, or Serbia for that matter. They were not moves of ambition, of invasion. They served only to keep the Turks at bay. I did nothing during any of my reign that was not solely intended to keep my country safe and free.”

  Seward said nothing. He took a long sip of champagne, glanced again at the stone wall surrounding the balcony, then returned his attention to his captor.

  “Once I became what I am,” continued the vampire, “after my throne was stolen for the final time, I withdrew from public life altogether. For a long time, many decades, in fact, I lived in something close to isolation, with only my Generals and their wives for company. My appetite for war and bloodshed had died with my human self, and I was content to let humanity fight and squabble among themselves.”

  “So what changed?” asked Seward, draining his glass.

  “Men from your country chased me to my castle and stuck their blades into my flesh. That’s what changed.”

  Seward didn’t respond.

  “You want to know how this ends?” asked Dracula. “It’s extremely simple. Every human being on this planet will be given the opportunity to pledge their unending loyalty to me, and their complete obedience to my everlasting rule. Those who do so will be spared. Those who do not will die.”

  “And if everyone were to refuse?” asked Seward, his voice low. “What then?”

  “I believe I made myself clear, Henry. What you are suggesting will never come to pass, for once the dying begins, the cowards will beg for the chance to kneel before me. But if it did? I would kill every living soul on this planet.”

  Seward stared at the vampire; deep, dark red was creeping into the furthest corners of his wild, flickering eyes.

  Madness, he thought. Nothing but madness.

  “Those who do kneel,” he said, carefully. “What world will they get the privilege of continuing to live in?”

  “A far better one than this,” said Dracula. “Without wars, or borders, or religions. A world where the only law is my word, and the only requirement is that they obey.”

  “It sounds delightful,” said Seward, smiling widely.

  He was hoping for a laugh and got one; Dracula tipped back his head and roared, a full-throated, guttural blast of amusement. For the briefest second the vampire’s eyes closed, and he made his move.

  Seward launched himself up out of his chair, reached the stone wall in two faltering steps, and threw himself over it, feeling cool air billow around him as he tumbled towards the distant ground.

  Henry Seward fell, watching with complete detachment as the stone wall at the top of the chateau shrank away above him. He had time to wonder whether hitting the ground was going to hurt before a dark shape burst over the wall and rocketed towards him.

  Dracula thundered into him in mid-air, his face twisted in an inhuman snarl of rage, his fangs bared, his eyes boiling with red-black fire. He gripped Seward’s shoulders with both hands, his nails sinking deeply into the flesh beneath the jacket, and he cried out with new pain. The vampire grinned in triumph, although the smile began to fade as quickly as it had arrived; Seward stared into the ancient, hateful face and realised what was happening.

  They had stopped moving when Dracula had taken hold of him, but now they were descending again. He twisted his head around and saw two things: they were still six or seven storeys up, and they were accelerating. He looked back at Dracula, a bitter smile rising on his face, and saw uncertainty on the old monster’s.

  “Can’t hold me, can you?” spat Seward. “Not strong enough. Let me go or I’ll take you down with me and we’ll find out what the courtyard does to that new body of yours.”

  Dracula gritted his teeth, and Seward felt their descent slow once more. But it was a brief respite; as he watched, blood began to bubble out of Dracula’s nose and fall steadily on to Seward’s chest and upturned face. A savage elation filled him.

  Not strong enough. Nowhere near. You’re one bit of heavy lifting away from falling apart.

  “Let me go!” he bellowed, and began pounding at the vampire’s arms with his fists. “Let me go!”

  Dracula redoubled his efforts and hauled them a few metres back towards the increasingly distant roof of the chateau. Blood was starting to appear at his hairline and run down his forehead, spreading in patches across the front of his crisp white shirt. Seward watched him struggle, his mind still full of hope that he might be allowed to fall, that Dracula’s ego would prevent him from calling for help. But then the vampire threw back his head and screamed Valeri’s name, dashing Seward’s hopes to pieces.

  From far below the two twisting, writhing figures, there came the sound of breaking glass; a second later Valeri Rusmanov appeared beside them, his eyes blazing red, and swung a gnarled fist through the air. It crashed into Henry Seward’s jaw; a jolt of shuddering pain burst through his head and everything turned grey. He felt new hands take hold of him, hands that were impossibly strong, and, as his vision cleared, he heard Valeri ask his master what had happened.

  “The coward jumped from the roof,” said Dracula. He was floating under his own power, smeared and soaked with blood, and was looking at his guest with a fury that seemed to burn into his skin. “I caught him before he was able to take the easy way out.”

  “You should have let him fall, master,” said Valeri, staring at Seward with open loathing. “He is not worth exerting yourself for.”

  “Do not presume to tell me what I should do, Valeri,” said Dracula, his voice full of fire. “He dies when I say he dies, not a second before or after. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly clear, master,” said Valeri, and Seward fought back the urge to laugh in the face of the craven, servile vampire.

  You could tear his heart from his chest before he even saw you move, he thought. But you would rather take his orders and insults. How pathetic you truly are.

  “What would you like me to do with him?” asked Valeri.

  “Take him back to his room,” said Dracula. “I have lost my appetite for his company. Then have a girl brought to my study. Two of them in fact. I feel the need to take my disappointment out on somebody.”

  “As you wish, master,” said Valeri.

  Dracula began to ascend, painfully slowly, towards the distant roof. Blood continued to fall steadily from beneath his clothes as he disappeared in the darkness.

  I reckon that’s set him back at least a couple of days, Seward thought, as he hung in Valeri’s grip. Maybe that’ll help you, Cal. I hope so. It’s not much, but it was all I could do.

  I hope you know that one day.

  I hope you know I trie
d.

  44

  THREE MUSKETEERS

  Jamie awoke in his bed with a clear conscience.

  He had done as Cal Holmwood had told him: gone straight to his quarters and tried to get some sleep. But he had lain awake for a long time, his gaze fixed on the grey ceiling of the small room, his mind turning the Morton problem over and over.

  The man had been an outstanding soldier and Jamie believed he could be just as good an Operator, in time. But time was what they didn’t have: the situation unfolding around them required every Operator to pull their weight, and Jamie had already lost a highly dangerous vampire because of the actions of his rookie. It wouldn’t be fair to Ellison, or to the rest of the Operators who were risking their lives chasing down the Broadmoor escapees, if he allowed the same thing to happen again because he was unwilling to make a hard decision. Although, as he lay on his bed, he had realised that it actually wasn’t all that hard; it was, in fact, barely a decision at all.

  Now he just needed to work out how to tell John Morton.

  Jamie climbed out of bed and made his way to the shower block. The hot water was soothing and he stayed beneath its pounding heat for a long time, feeling his muscles relax, the knots in his shoulders and thighs slowly loosen. When his skin was pink and tingling, he shut the shower off, towelled himself dry, and headed back to his quarters. He dressed quickly, grabbed his phone from his desk and did some calculations in his head.

  Nevada is eight hours behind. So it’s just after midnight yesterday.

  He deliberated for a minute, then scrolled down to Larissa’s name and pressed CALL. There was a pause as the connection was made, before the phone started to ring. It rang twice before stopping dead. A second later Larissa’s recorded voice invited him to leave her a voicemail.

  Jamie frowned. If his girlfriend was asleep, or on Operations, her phone would either be switched off, in which case it would have gone straight to voicemail, or on silent, when it would ring a dozen times or so before cutting out. He took the handset away from his ear and pressed CALL again. Larissa’s phone rang for slightly longer this time, almost four rings, before cutting out again. He considered leaving a message, but decided against it; instead, he put the phone in his pocket and took out his console. A press of his thumb activated the screen and another opened the messaging app. Jamie typed out a short message to Ellison and Morton, telling them to report as normal for training in the Playground, then looked with deep resentment at the mountain of files and reports towering on his desk. With a deep sigh, he settled himself into his chair, and pulled the first one down from the top of the pile.

  Five hours later Jamie pushed open the door to the dining room and felt his heart sink.

  It was lunchtime and the long, wide room was almost full: Operators, scientists, doctors and civilian staff filled the tables, and queued along the length of the serving counters, laughing and chatting to each other at what seemed like a deafening volume.

  He stood at the entrance to the room, trying to decide what to do; his head was pounding from catching up on the reports, and the prospect of the conversation he knew he had to have with John Morton was starting to loom large in his mind. But he was here and it would be stupid not to eat. His squad’s orders had not yet arrived, but he assumed they would be going out again in a few hours; he was going to need to be at his best, especially in light of the fact that there would only be two of them leaving the Loop.

  “Looking for someone?” asked a familiar voice.

  Jamie turned to find Kate Randall standing outside the door, a big grin on her face. He stepped forward and pulled her into a bear hug, almost lifting her off her feet; she gasped, then started laughing and pounding on his back, demanding that he put her down. He did as he was told and she stepped back, her face flushed.

  “It’s good to see you too, Jamie,” she said. “Have you eaten already?”

  “No,” replied Jamie, smiling happily. “I was just deciding whether or not to bother.”

  “I’m supposed to be meeting Matt,” said Kate. “But we both know how likely that is to actually happen.”

  Jamie laughed. “Right,” he said. “He lives next door to me and I see him about once a week if I’m lucky.”

  “Well, if we’re assuming that Matt isn’t going to show,” said Kate, “I suppose you would just about do as a substitute lunch companion. Fancy it?”

  “Absolutely,” he replied.

  The two Operators made their way across the dining hall and joined the back of the queue for the food counters. Jamie surveyed the wraps and brimming bowls of salad, before ordering an enormous burger, groaning with bacon and cheese, and a pile of fries to go with it. Kate shook her head at him as she selected a tuna baguette; he flipped her a casual finger and pushed his tray away along the counter, leaving her staring after him with a perfect O of mock outrage on her face.

  They found an empty table in the far corner of the dining hall and sat down. Jamie was about to take the first bite of his burger when he spotted a skinny figure in civilian clothes standing by the dining-room door.

  “Wow,” he said. “Who would have believed it?”

  Kate frowned and turned her head towards where he was looking. Then she was waving her arms in the air and shouting across the dining hall. “Matt! Over here!”

  Matt flinched at the sound of his name, then grinned when he saw his two friends. He raised a hand in acknowledgement and began to pick his way through the maze of tables and chairs towards them. His foot caught an outstretched leg at the last second and he stumbled, arms wheeling furiously for balance, before righting himself and crash-landing in the empty chair beside Kate.

  “This place is a death trap,” he said. “It’s safer out there than in here.”

  “It’s safer anywhere you aren’t,” said Jamie, grinning.

  “Really?” replied Matt. “Is it my fault that everyone decides to constantly put things in my way. If I could fly like Larissa, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Maybe we can persuade her to bite you when she gets back,” said Kate. “I think she’d agree it’s for the greater good.”

  “You are both terrible people,” said Matt, smiling. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too,” said Jamie. “How’re things downstairs?”

  “They’re OK,” said Matt. “We’re making progress.”

  “How are the team settling in?” asked Jamie, finally taking an enormous bite of his burger.

  “They’re great,” said Matt. “They’re so committed, even though they’re trying to find a cure for a disease that none of them knew existed three months ago. It’s pretty inspiring.”

  “Right,” said Kate, grinning wickedly. “I’m pretty sure I know which one of them inspires you the most.”

  Matt flushed bright red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  “What’s going on?” demanded Jamie. “Kate?”

  “Ask Matt,” she laughed. “Ask him about a pretty Russian girl called Natalia. I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say on the subject.”

  “You’re dead, Kate,” said Matt, grinning evilly. “I’m going to kill you with your fork.”

  “The girl who got hurt in the blast?” asked Jamie. “The one who was going into your room, Kate?”

  “That’s the one,” she replied. “Matt?”

  “She’s just a girl that sits near me in the lab,” said Matt. “She’s a geneticist from Leningrad. The SPC sent her.”

  “And you love her,” said Kate, her face rigid with fake seriousness. “You love her and you want to marry her and have lots of little genius children with her.”

  Jamie burst out laughing. Matt gave him a look that, if facial expressions could kill, would have tortured him for several days before slowly dismembering him.

  “I do not love her,” he protested. “I barely know her. I just like her, that’s all.”

  “And she likes you?” asked Jamie.

  “I don’t know,” sa
id Matt. “I wouldn’t have thought so.”

  Kate groaned. “You are absolutely the stupidest genius I’ve ever known,” she said. “I told her I wouldn’t say anything, but I suppose our pact comes before everything else. She was going into my room when the bomb went off because I told her to. She came up to ISAT to ask me about you, and I told her to go and wait in my room so we could talk properly.”

  Matt’s eyes widened. “She came to ask you about me? What did she want to know?”

  “She was worried about you,” said Kate. “She thought you were working too hard, which you quite obviously are. But she could have talked to Professor Karlsson about that. She came to see me because she likes you, and she wanted to ask someone who knew you what she should do about it.”

  “So what did you tell her?” asked Jamie, his burger completely forgotten.

  “I told her she should talk to Matt,” replied Kate. “But then the bomb happened and she ended up in the infirmary.”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Jamie. “I’m just putting this together now. This is what you told Major Turner when he made me leave the room yesterday?”

  Kate nodded. “We went to see her yesterday. She’s going to be fine, thankfully.” She turned her attention back to Matt. “Why do you think I got out of there so quickly? So I could leave the two of you alone.”

  Matt stared. “I didn’t know that,” he said. “I didn’t know any of this. She likes me? She told you she does?”

  “She did,” said Kate. “So unless the bomb scrambled her brain, it’s probably a pretty safe bet that she still does.”

  “Tell her you like her,” said Jamie, firmly. “As soon as she’s out of the infirmary. No sense in waiting around.”

  “I agree,” said Kate. “It looked like it took all of her courage to come and ask me what she should do, so grow some balls and give her a break.”

  Matt stared at his friends, his immensely powerful brain completely overwhelmed. “OK,” he said, eventually. “I’ll think about it. And I’ll talk to her when she gets out. Everyone happy?”

  “Very,” said Kate. “She’s a sweet girl, Jamie. You’ll like her.”