After a few moments hesitation she pulled out a shoulder holster that Manson had updated by hand for her. Her second M9 rested on her right side so she could draw with her left, it was a Galco Jackass Rig shoulder system originally. Manson had fashioned it to hold the ammo for her Remington over and under pump-action shot gun, which she had every intention of taking with her. After yesterday she knew she would feel almost naked without the M16 with her, the shotgun would help to ease that anxiety. She loaded the shot gun and flung it over her back to hang their by its strap, it would make the rest of the trip uncomfortable but she wanted to be able to book-it when they arrived. That done she moved unto her Diehard Ankle rig in which she stuffed a small revolver. To her the ankle holster proved in most situations to be too entirely useless. She’d never had time to reach for it, nor would she if her life depended on it. But Manson had always said to her that you could never have too many arms on your person. You never knew when exactly life would throw you a curve ball and she would need the damn thing. Of coarse she had no doubt that when she needed it she wouldn’t have put it on. She strapped the thing on now, covered it with her pant leg and forgot that it was there.
She moved back up to her BlackHawk pouch and slipped her Bowie knife in the place that she had specially created specifically for it. It rarely came of use, but it was big, which meant it did a nice amount of damage with one blow. In her experience it hadn’t killed as many bad guys as her faithful M16 had, but it did nicely in a pinch in terms of intimidation. The blade was double edged at the point, and very dangerous if you found yourself on the wrong end of it. She couldn’t not also admit that she was a big Jim Bowie fan, who wouldn’t admire that kind of craftsmanship, she only wished she found more use for it. Farther down her leg she had a K-bar, another blade, her reserve should she lose the Bowie knife. It too was dangerous up close and personal, maybe you could throw it from a distance but it wouldn’t be very effective given she had no practice throwing knives with accuracy. She had even more weapons stashed at home but no room with which to carry it all around with her and she knew that any more would inhibit her ability to move regardless.
Tonight she would settle with the two M9's, the Remington shotgun, the small revolver at her ankle, Bowie knife, and k-bar blade. If it wasn’t enough then she had no idea what would be. At least she was never as packed with equipment as Manson chose to be. He had an oozy 9mm that went with him no matter the circumstance. In a cross draw shoulder holster the old fashioned boy kept to his left a 44 magnum revolver, to the right a Colt semi automatic 45. At the small of his back he kept his reserve pistol as he called it, a Glock 9mm no less. Only Manson would have such a large pistol for his back up. Along with his oozy, Manson refused to go into battle without his M60. A general purpose machine gun no less, was there really a general purpose for a machine gun, not for normal people. But her and Manson were hardly normal people. The M60 weighed 23 pounds, you weren’t likely to catch her carrying the thing around. And last other than the identical blades like hers that he carried he had an M72A2. It was a fucking anti-tank weapon with a caliber of 66mm, she’d said to him more then once that he was over doing it with that one. His only response had been that it was just a light anti-tank weapon, like it being light made any real difference. He’d been doing all of this longer than she had, but she prayed that she never felt that it would get bad enough to carry around an M72 with her.
She understood her weaknesses better then most, she had them thrown in her face continuously in her line of work. She was lacking she understood that, her enemy would always be stronger, faster, and a hundred times more resilient than she could ever hope to be no matter how much strength or endurance she built, no matter how much pain she trained her body to ignore. That was why they carried so many weapons, that was why Manny packed so many high caliber weapons, and the truth was she might too if she weren’t so damn small. But the sad truth was that at the end of the day not even everything they carried around would manage to level the playing field. She wished that it weren’t so, but the reality was that they’re enemy was consistently more agile and too fast to even hit with a bullet, and even when they did you practically had to rend them limb from limb before they were down. Jennifer reached up and rested her fingers against the silver cross that rested against her collar bone. This was the real defense, her faith, the cross around her neck was a reminder that there was something else to protect her. And as ridiculous as it sounded to believe that God was protecting her, she had been raised with the knowledge that if all else failed this couldn’t be taken from her. She gave a silent prayer that all would go as it should knowing that it would do little good, she may have faith in a higher power, but she had born witness to what blind faith without action resulted in. Dropping her hand away from the crucifix she let her hand rest down by the 9mm at her hip. The cross was a last resort, usually if her target was close enough for the cross to come of use it was probably because she was about to die.
She thought of the few occasions that she could recall that it had happened, remembered the irritation and fear that crossed the faces of the enemy coming for her. She tried not to put a name to them, hated thinking of them as anything but the enemy, but in the end she knew what they were. Walking dead, soulless, feeding off the blood of the living, vampire, there would have been a time once when the term would have suited them, revealing them for the monsters that they were. But now people heard the word and thought only of romance, brooding figures struggling with their own nature, struggling to preserve human life, vampires that sparkled, for the love of god. There were times when she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs just thinking about it, seeing what she had seen she knew vampires for what they were. Brooding perhaps that was true but each and every one of them was covered in blood, dripping with it, and she could only be glad that if one of the suckers did step into the sun they would burn. What was so romantic about the notion of a monster who feed off the life force of others so they could live forever Jennifer would never know. She knew from experience that forever could only lead to one thing for a person, and it was madness, to add the deaths of hundreds to ones conscience just to accomplish that would only make that come faster.
Let people make love stories out of them if they liked, Jennifer would just have to remain satisfied with the knowledge that while most people were being idiots there were others like her out there dragging the monsters into the light to watch the skin peel from their bones. She had met enough vampires to understand where the misconception might have come from. They were always beautiful, if you were going to live forever she supposed they found it easier to want to look at ones self in the mirror and then surround yourself with beauty, though it only lasted on the outside. She’d met more than one that had managed to hide their true nature from her for a little while, but the monster eventually peeked it’s head out. They looked human enough but in the end they were after one thing and little else, blood. But vampire was no longer a sufficient word to describe them to people, monster seemed more appropriate, nobody romanticized the word monster. It was the thing that stole your children away in the dark, that raped and burned it’s way through villages, monsters were plagues that you looked for a way to wipe off the face of the earth. That was what vampires were, not lonely heros, not something you put on a t-shirt or start a fan club for. Jennifer had quickly come to hate the word vampire and so replaced it in her mind with the enemy, monster, killer. The fact that most of them couldn’t even look at a cross without physical pain was proof of that for her, not that she needed more proof then simply seeing what it was they were capable of.
"Are we sure that this is him," Jennifer finally asked pulling herself out of her thoughts enough to try and focus back on this one vampire instead of everyone she’d had to face. She turned in her seat so that she could see Manson, he was better then her when it came to focusing on the details.
"It’s him," was all he said, "seven dead, sloppy this time, he didn’t even bother to hid
e the trail of bodies." Jennifer shook her head facing forward again, this was the second time she would be facing this one, she didn’t know it’s name not that it mattered in the end, she’d dispatched more than she could count who were nameless. This one she could tell would be different, he was savage, he was powerful, which usually meant he belonged to someone with even more power. Jennifer’s mind wandered to Ada, one of several vampires with a name she’d been forced to learn by necessity and couldn’t help but wonder if this one was hers. He was up to her standard of beauty, she shoved the thought aside, one way or another it didn’t matter this time he was going to die. She refused to retreat again, she would take this one down even if he took her with him. Seven was a bigger body count than she’d seen a vampire accumulate at once in a long time, she just hoped he was sticking around so she could add his own death to the number.
Chapter 3
Malcolm pulled the van over by an apartment complex that was very much like the one that they’d been at yesterday. This was the building where the seven people had been killed, if they were lucky their murderer wouldn’t have gotten far. This guy had a bad habit of staying close to the murder scene, maybe he thought it was funny, or maybe he was just stupid. It was time to find out which, without looking she knew that Manson had opened the door nearest him and was making to climb out of the vehicle. For a moment Jennifer paused in her actions to do the same, there had been a time not long ago that before each one of her dangerous excursions in hunting when she would have stopped and kissed the man in the drivers seat before she climbed out. A part of her would always miss him, or at least the person that she’d thought he’d been. Now when she paused it wasn’t to kiss him good-bye because they had both known each time she’d left this vehicle that might be exactly what the kiss would have been, because she might die. Instead she paused and leveled a serious look in his direction, "don’t stay parked here, if he’s close we don’t want him to stumble on the two of you. Circle the building if you want, park a couple blocks down," she offered as another option. "I don’t want the two of you in the line of fire if it can be avoided." Each and every person on their team was trained in hand to hand combat, for all the good it would do them, and could proficiently manage a fire arm. Those skills didn’t change the fact that neither Malcolm nor Marcia had any actual combat experience, Malcolm was an escape driver and Marcia on her best of days was even more useless than that. Mediums were useful outside the field, on it they were cannon fodder and negotiators, well vampires tended to kill those for fun.
Jennifer didn’t say more just slipped out of the passenger seat onto the sidewalk praying that she would get the door closed before Malcolm would point out the obvious like he always did. "Jenny," she inwardly cursed when Malcolm interjected before she could even close the door. "Take a radio," she hated that he always managed to notice when neither she nor Manson had bothered to take one. In her experience carrying around a radio always seemed to be more trouble than not. She had put in more than once that they now made models that could have earphones attached for the purpose of stealth but they were still loud enough for a vampire to hear. She didn’t like it but knew it was protocol and wasn’t about to give Malcolm any ammunition he could feed to the higher ups in hopes of getting her reassigned in hopes that she’d come crawling back to him. She turned somewhat sulkily on her heel when he called on her again before she could close the door. "Jen," he waited for her to look back at him before he said more, "stay safe."
Jennifer nodded, for some reason Malcolm’s words brought back Ethan’s strange farewell back at the gas station, "be safe out there in the dark." Jennifer wasn’t sure why in that moment she had thought of the man or the words, so swiped the memory aside. She aimed for smiling reassuringly but could never tell if her expression looked like it should, she was not a master of schooling her features like some people were. Without thinking she answered in a way she knew would make her cousin Doug proud, "live long and prosper." Before he had a chance to say something, that she could tell just by the look on his face would be full of reprimands on how she wasn’t taking this seriously, she slammed the door closed and trotted to a waiting Manson.
She dreaded the parting words that she knew were coming as soon as she heard the sound of the power windows on the passenger side rolling down. "Keep the radio switched on Jennifer!" Malcolm called, and it took a level of self control she didn’t want to really expend not to flip him off as he pulled away from the curb.
Manson didn’t say anything, though she knew for a fact that he didn’t like the idea of the radio potentially giving away their position any more than she did. Without complaint that would only waste time she hooked the radio on her side and tried to forget that it was there, but couldn’t. She had a fear that like in every horror movie she’d ever seen the radio would suddenly screech static and it would get herself and anyone else with her killed. She took a deep breath and tried to erase the thought of radios and hordes of vampires descending. But it was still in the back of her head no matter what and she couldn’t force it out, so instead of feeling like a life line like the radio was meant to be it felt like a weight against her side, unforgettable in its potential to do more harm than good.
She took a glance over at Manson but he seemed less worried about the radio then frustrated with it. So she gave her attention instead to the darkness behind the building that they needed to go into. There was a small part of her that still wished she could bring light with her into the dark, she had grown used to the dark, it didn’t change the fact that she missed the light. But you couldn’t take light with you because it was just another friendly way of letting your enemy know exactly where you were. Not to mention it wasn’t likely to help you see anything you needed to until it was in your face anyway. So it was just best to keep your eyes peeled, her night vision was probably better than most peoples just because she spent so much time out in the dark without a light. Manson’s was the same, it wasn’t something that anybody was born with it was just something that you had to work on. Manson didn’t move so she figured that he wanted her to take lead, she usually did. Something about the whole night just didn’t feel right, Manson always covered her rear without question. She was aware that they were a few men less than they had been the night before, that certainly added to the feeling, but she knew without a doubt that there was more to it than that, everything felt off.
She took a second to shake out her shoulders, trying to clear her head. Her thoughts were all over the place and that was the last thing she needed right now. She needed her head clear, she suspected that her feeling of unease was because she was afraid. It wouldn’t be the first time that she’d gone into the dark to face monsters with terror coursing through her but most of the time the emotion left her on edge, ready to shoot at any shadow that jumped. She preferred to hold to anger when she went into a place without light. She had plenty of anger, now especially with Clive in the hospital and Quincy dead. She knew what this guy was capable of, she’d seen him rip Quincy to pieces. But with as angry as that knowledge made her there was still fear beneath the surface, she failed to see how there wouldn’t be, not after she’d failed so completely in her first encounter with this vampire. She was afraid that she would get Manson killed too, more scared of that than angry for what had already happened because of her failings.
‘Clear your head, you don’t have to fear for your friend he can handle himself. If he couldn’t he’d already be dead. It would have happened a long time ago.’
Jennifer’s heart stopped for a moment, that sure as hell hadn’t been her conscience. It had been a very soft very comforting in it’s southern cadence, male voice in her head. Despite the fact that she should have been scared shitless her shoulders relaxed.
‘Take a breath and go do what needs to be done.’
For a moment Jennifer stood stock still debating the merits of screaming at the top of her lungs and falling into a fit of madness. That was what this was wasn’t it? She was hearing
voices, not her own, not her thoughts, but then she remembered the world she lived in and pushed the thought aside. Someone else was in her head, she knew well enough without a doubt it could be done, had experienced a case of it that had nearly led to her death. This wasn’t any different, only it seemed this voice was trying to do the opposite. Besides she didn’t think that screaming like a girl was going to get her many brownie points with Manson, not when they were on a hunt. There was a voice in her head, she would deal with it when this was done and over, until then she would ignore it. Feeling more than insecure at the moment instead of pulling the Beretta from her hip she shrugged the Remington from over her shoulder. The movement caused a spike of pain to surge through her shoulder and down her arm. Her fingers went numb but she clenched her teeth and forced her fingers to grip the Remington rather than let it slip from her fingers. Without pause she brought a round into the chamber, but just the simple motion caused another spike of pain and she realized with only some panic that her injury must have been much worse than she’d let herself realize. The weight of the Remington was almost unbearable for a second and she knew that the Beretta wouldn’t prove much better. As if on cue her panic was interrupted by that soft commanding voice that wasn’t her own.
‘The arm is fine, remember to breath, think clearly, you still have full mobility of the arm and you can feel. That’s good, don’t ignore the pain, embrace it, let it drive you. Next time it won’t be a shock to your system if you don’t try to forget it. It will help you focus if you just embrace it and let it be a reminder of what you’re doing here. Seven people are dead, more than that, do what needs to be done.’
Revenant's Kiss (Chronicles of the Afterlife) Page 4
