Relict (Book 1): Drawing Blood

by Richard Finney

  Less than a month ago the two of them were in Herndon, Virginia, walking through the burned-out wreckage of the control center of the private security firm which employed them as contracted “mercs.”

  Strewn all around the facility were at least fifty dead employees. Some look liked they had put up a fight, but others had self-inflicted bullet holes in their head.

  “Heads up,” Jay shouted to Matt before tossing him something.

  It was a bullet.

  “That’s the one I want you to use on me. I’d tell you to do it right now, but I still believe we can beat these motherfuckers. But if the time comes, I do want you to do it. I’ll feel better and you’ll feel better that I’m dead… dead.”

  He was still staring at Jay’s dog tags when Bunny spoke again.

  “As our team leader candidate, I was hoping you could answer a question,” said the chunky, hairless, weak-chinned lawyer. “Where do you think they’re taking us?”

  Matt needed to re-grip the netting behind him, because if he didn’t, in his anger and his still shaky physical state, he would fall over once he attempted to grab Bunny by his throat.

  “You need to get the fuck away from me, right now.”

  Bunny stumbled back, looked around to see if the others in the truck had heard what Matt had said to him, then made his way over to a corner, where he used the netting to lower himself to the floor of the truck.

  The devastation of discovering Jay had died at least cleared the cobwebs in his brain. And though he was tempted to wallow in his misery, he forced himself to take a deep breath and begin thinking about the future.

  Matt’s eyes slowly scanned the other occupants in the truck.

  There were mostly blank stares and wan faces.

  Except for three females, everyone else in the cargo hold was male. The men varied in age from sixteen to senior citizens. Matt picked up enough to deduce that they came from different backgrounds, at least professionally. Executives were sitting next to construction workers. Dress shirts and slacks were side by side with T-shirts and jeans.

  Matt’s eyes stopped on what looked like brothers, either twins or barely a year apart. The brothers were zoning out with a single portable music player that they were sharing with two pairs of attached headphones.

  He did notice that one of the females, an attractive blonde, was whispering back and forth with the men who sat on either side of her. Matt wondered if perhaps they had some plan up their sleeve.

  There was the sound of screeching brakes as the truck began slowing down. In the cargo area, everyone fell into each other.

  After the truck came to a complete stop, those that had been sitting used the netting to get to their feet.

  Matt listened for any noises or voices coming from the outside. He was hoping to pick up on anything that might give him a clue as to what lay beyond the back of the truck.

  The engine shut off.

  There was the noise of footsteps running alongside the vehicle.

  The military transport’s back gate was unlocked, then lowered.

  The canvas tarp was raised, and then thrown over the roof.

  “Let’s go, everyone. Double time. File out!”

  The light from the setting sun caused them all to squint, but almost everyone in the cargo hold moved to comply with the order shouted out to them.

  As it turned out, Matt and Bunny were the two last ones on the truck.

  Before they exited, Matt grabbed ahold of Bunny’s arm to get his attention.

  “You can’t talk your way out of this. So shut your mouth… or believe me, you’re going to end up dead.” The lawyer nodded his head as if he understood.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Even as he was hopping off the truck, Matt was focused on taking in his new environment. He was surprised to discover that he knew exactly where they were.

  The truck had parked inside the main gate of an old Army training facility near his parents’ farm just outside of Morristown. The place had been closed down even before he was born. He and his brother would sometimes go with their friends and mess around in some of the old buildings.

  On the other side of the security checkpoint was a five-acre, fenced compound comprising a dozen 1940-era, one-story buildings. It was obvious that all the buildings had gone through a recent renovation and then splashed with a new coat of paint.

  “Okay, juice boxes, immediately form a single-file line...”

  The shouted order came from one of the compound guards. There were at least a dozen of them supervising their arrival. None of them looked like vampires; all were outfitted in black jumpsuits and were wielding black riot batons.

  It was only after Matt stepped off the truck that he was able to see what appeared to be the only new construction in the compound – a six-story-high building, completely painted in black. It loomed over the rest of the camp like a dark specter.

  As Matt moved into the line, he spotted more than a hundred male and female prisoners watching on the other side of the security-checkpoint fence.

  “Last chance, juice boxes: form a line now!”

  Almost all of the prisoners had originally done what they were told, but there were stragglers, even a few who felt uneasy about the situation and appeared to be making a stand.

  Matt felt a whoosh of air behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of something solid impacting human flesh. He turned to see one of his fellow prisoners had collapsed to the ground.

  Standing over him was a bear of a man holding one of the riot batons. He allowed the squeal of pain coming from the prisoner to get everyone’s attention before he addressed the prisoners.

  “Welcome to the Coa Concentration Camp. I'm the Superintendent of Security, Ronald Spector. You won’t have any trouble remembering my name because everyone remembers the name of a hero.”

  Spector smiled broadly as he started walking up the line of prisoners.

  “Yeah, I admit I may not look like one, but believe me, I’m your hero…”

  He was barrel-chested, but beyond that, Matt couldn’t tell if his loose-fitting, black jumpsuit hid muscle or fat. Hearing the groans of the guy behind him did not encourage him to clarify the issue by looking directly at Spector as he walked by.

  “Here’s why I’m your hero – because I’m the last of the living who stands between you and…,” Spector pointed his baton to the black tower, “… them.”

  “Growing up, my father gave me two pieces of advice. Number one – Live your life with a goal. Number two – Do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. For most of my life I ignored my father's advice, until recent worldwide events forced me to reevaluate his wise words.”

  Spector walked past Bunny, and the lawyer couldn’t believe his luck – he recognized the head of security as one of his old clients. In fact, before the takeover he had kept his ass out of jail!

  “Right now my goal is to stay alive. And I will do whatever it takes... to achieve my goal.”

  The head of the CCC facility had arrived right back where he had begun, standing over the prisoner he had assaulted with his baton in the gut.

  Spector delivered a jackbooted kick to the prisoner’s ribs. He then turned to finish his address above the moans of pain from the prisoner.

  “During your stay with us, your goal is to provide services. Providing services is the only reason all of you are still alive. If you fail to provide services, you will not be achieving your goal. And when you fail to achieve your goal, you will be threatening my goal as well. Let me remind you of my earlier statement – I will do whatever it takes to achieve my goal.”

  This time Spector used his black baton to strike the back of the whimpering prisoner lying at his feet.

  One of the other prisoners could not stand to hear the screams of pain any longer and made a move to help him.

  All it took was for Spector to glare in her direction. Whatever altruistic urge the female prisoner had was squelched and she fell back into line.

  �
��The problem with my father was that he was a… windbag,” said Spector to the prisoners. “It was one of the many reasons we never got along. I heard the same two pieces of advice over and over again. The good news is none of you will have a similar problem. Everything I've just now said I will not… ever… repeat again.”

  Matt’s gaze landed on Bunny ahead of him in line. The lawyer had a confident gleam in his eyes, as if he had just found out that he had the honor of arguing in front of the Supreme Court.

  “So, let me be your hero. Follow my directions without any questions. Follow the directions of those who work with me. Let us all help you accomplish your goal.”

  Spector motioned to one of the compound guards.

  “Okay, juice boxes, you heard the chief, proceed forward until we give you the word!”

  The line surged forward toward the main camp compound.

  Bunny waited until Spector was walking right beside him.

  “Ron... Ron... it's me, Bunny.”

  At first Spector didn’t seem to hear Bunny.

  “Ron… over here… it’s me…”

  Spector finally responded, but he spoke under his breath. “Just keep it moving, juice box.”

  Bunny heard the words, but completely missed the subtext.

  “C'mon, Ron, you gotta remember... three years ago you had that second DUI and I was able to make it go away with you just doing community service...”

  Spector interrupted the lawyer with a baton blow to Bunny’s back, which immediately put him down on the ground.

  “I know exactly who you are, Michael Leahy, Esquire, but maybe you haven’t been paying attention to who I’ve become...”

  A voice inside Matt’s head screamed for him to simply do as the other prisoners were doing ahead of him: simply walk around Bunny as if he was a pothole in the middle of the road.

  But he reached down and grabbed one of Bunny’s arms.

  Matt glanced over to see how Spector was going to react and was surprised to see the head of security had already moved on.

  His recovery took more than a few steps, but Bunny eventually started to walk on his own as they both approached a grey building.

  “Thanks for the help…”

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up? Next time I’ll let you drown in your own vomit…”

  The words were loud enough, and alarming enough, that two of the other prisoners marching nearby stepped in to relieve Matt of his burden.

  He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth.

  And what caused Matt the most shame were the faces of the prisoners who took over helping Bunny. They both looked at him with the same fear in their eyes that just seconds ago had been directed toward Spector.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As the newbies marched into the main compound, a young man had to hold his blue jeans by the waist or they would drop to his ankles. He had lost so much weight trying to avoid capture that his pants no longer fit. Seeing the veteran prisoners that had come to greet them, the young man shouted out, “What’s in the grey building?”

  His inquiry triggered an immediate reaction from one of the CCC guards, who yanked the young man out of the line, delivered several baton blows, and kicked him repeatedly. The young man squirmed in the dirt moaning in pain, next to his blue jeans which he had lost during the beating.

  “It’s all right. Just do what they say…,” yelled Roque Juarez, one of the veteran prisoners in the CCC facility. He was a wiry and nimble-looking Hispanic who was moving in lockstep, fifty feet away but parallel to the newbies, as they made their way toward the grey building.

  “Just remember one thing, everything that happens in there, stays in there.”

  Another veteran prisoner shouted out to them, “You’ve made it this far. Just stay with their program, and we’ll be here when you come out.” The words of encouragement came from Cliff Barrett, a broad and muscular middle-aged man who was tossing a football nervously from one hand to the other as he kept pace right behind Juarez.

  A few feet away from the main entrance of the grey building, one of the CCC guards stopped the assembly of prisoners.

  The building’s doors opened, revealing a single, black-clad, concentration-camp guard standing in the doorway. He waved to the first prisoner in line as if he was a barker working the sidewalk in front of a strip joint.

  “Right this way. Everything is going to be great…”

  While all the prisoners were filing into the room, Matt had some time to assess what lay ahead. The room they were standing in was large and well lit, but Matt estimated it to be less than a fourth of the entire building. An observation room, encased entirely in dark glass, had been constructed in the rafters. No doubt it was where new arrivals could be evaluated.

  When the last of the newbies entered the grey building, a CCC guard shut the door behind him.

  Immediately a noise coming from the front of the room grabbed their attention. Another CCC guard slid open the wall, revealing an even larger area beyond where they were all standing. What lay on the other side was impossible to fathom, because the entire area was engulfed in a cloud of steam.

  A physical altercation suddenly broke out near Matt. He turned to see that one of the male prisoners was being restrained by another, as a thin, pasty-faced woman with blonde hair moved away from them.

  She moved with confidence through the group, despite the fact that a few of the prisoners shook their heads in disgust. The blonde took a place reserved for her, right next to the CCC guard who had revealed the fake wall.

  “You will strip off all of your clothes and your personal possessions and leave them in a pile beside you.”

  Matt remembered seeing her on the truck, talking to two male prisoners. She had looked emaciated, like she hadn’t eaten in days. He also noticed red scratches on her neck. Only now did he realize how he had created the blonde woman’s backstory without speaking one word to her. It was clearly what the vampires were counting on.

  “Your personal possessions will be returned to you. This is an opportunity for all of you to experience how much you can trust us when you follow our directions. However, if you choose to ignore our directives, the next stage of orientation will be very challenging. Any transgressions will result in a punishment. The penalty for your transgression might even result in your death. Now, as I have previously instructed, remove all of your clothing.”

  There was silence.

  Then four of the prisoners started to take off their clothes.

  Everyone in the room turned, some had sneers on their face; others began to cry while most just looked confused as to what they should do.

  An African-American prisoner standing in front of the four disrobing prisoners shoved his nearly naked comrade.

  A CCC guard standing nearby used his baton to strike the African American across his leg.

  Almost as a group, the four naked prisoners, stepped over the injured African American and headed to the front of the room.

  “Very good,” said the blonde informer. “Now walk through to the other side and discover that your obedience will be rewarded with a slice of cake on the other side.”

  One by one the four prisoners walked through the wall and into the thick cloud of mist.

  “The cake is not a lie. And I will offer the next five who do as they have been instructed the same reward. All the rest of you will miss out on the cake and, more importantly, you threaten your very existence.”

  At that point, most of the other prisoners began to disrobe.

  And very quickly it also became a race as several of the prisoners tore off their clothes, hoping to be one of the five who would get cake on the other side.

  As several prisoners rushed toward the open wall, one was stopped by the blonde informer. She motioned to her fellow guards and the man was taken away, through the open wall, but in a different direction than the prisoners who had preceded him.

  Matt recognized the prisoner who had been taken away as
someone who had been sitting and conversing with the female plant during the truck ride to the concentration camp.

  “That concludes the offer of a reward for your cooperation,” the blonde female plant announced. “The rest of you now have exactly three minutes to achieve your goal or suffer the consequences.”

  Everyone else that was still in the room quickly began taking off their clothes.

  After they left the grey building’s initiation room, Matt and the other prisoners were divided into groups of six, then led underneath showers where they were sprayed with different streams of colored water – red, then blue, and finally green.

  Whatever chemical was “blue,” it stung like a hot iron on Matt’s skin.

  Several of the prisoners tried to step away when they were hit with the blue water. CCC guards were standing nearby, waving batons, and chasing the prisoners back until all of the prisoners had been sprayed.

  Still dripping wet, the groups of six were then funneled into three separated lines. There they waited to be individually examined by a doctor.

  Matt checked out all of the three doctors performing the examinations, and none were wearing the black uniforms like the rest of the CCC guards.

  When he was called to step forward for his medical check-up he was greeted by an older man, with short cropped white hair and beard, who looked to be making his best effort to appear cheerful.

  “My name is Dr. Garrett Dietz. Why don’t we start with your…?”

  But the moment Dietz reached out, Matt stopped him, grabbing the doctor by the wrist.

  “It appears we can skip the tests regarding your reflexes. But we’ll still need to measure your blood pressure…”

  “How can you work for these animals…?”

  “Just like you… I want to stay alive.”

  “Is that the only excuse you have?”

  “No, but it’s the one that’s usually acceptable in most situations.”

  He tightened his grip on the doctor’s wrist.

  “Listen to me, you either let me examine you… or I will be doing your autopsy later. Autopsies are so much more work.”