She turned to leave when Jack seemed to snap out of his haze and back to attention. “What do I call you?” He asked.
His visitor stopped and turned, dazzling him with the brilliance of her smile. “Nadia. My name is Nadia.” Then she turned and left.
Jack thought for a moment. Her accent was strange. Almost Russian, but not quite. Perhaps a satellite country of the former Soviet Union. He let out the breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding and almost panted as his body ached, the pain ebbing through him.
He pulled the tray table closer and ate what he could. He didn’t realize how tired he was or how much energy it took just to ingest food. The bread was toasted sourdough and appeared to be hand cut from a large loaf like French bread. The milk was sweet, but with a slightly gamey taste to it. Unlike any he had drank before, he thought maybe it was goat milk. It was very rich and he could see little globs of cream beginning to rise. Farm milk, just like he grew up on. Except theirs was from cows and wasn’t nearly as flavorful.
Jack ate what he could then pushed the tray table back. Carefully, he pushed himself back down and lay quietly in the room, his mind racing. Why hadn’t he thought to interrogate her as to the nature of his surroundings? ‘Where am I exactly? How long have I been here? Do my people know I’m here? Am I a prisoner? Who are YOU?’ Questions ran through his mind until his mind began to fog. His body needed sleep to heal. And sleep was slipping up on him. With the warm, sweet milk and the bread in his stomach, he could feel himself slipping, the darkness coming on him. And when it did, his dreams were vivid and frightening.
*****
Robert Mueller followed a small woman in black BDUs to a room and she opened the door for him. “Have a seat, fill out the forms in front of you, and we’ll get you settled in shortly.” She motioned through the door and Robert stepped in. His eyes instantly scanned the room, taking note of everything. Most surprising to him was that the room already had five men and one woman in there, sitting in small groups or by themselves, filling out paperwork. Eyes raised to assess him when he first entered, then dropped back to their task.
Robert entered and took a seat near the rear. He noticed insignia from Navy, Air Force, Army, and was somewhat surprised there weren’t any Marines in there to round out the group. Hell, even the Latino chick was dressed in dark blue cop overalls with SWAT patches. Taking his seat, he opened the folder on the desk and began filling out personal information. It only took a few minutes and he found himself sitting there, observing the other men in the room. The SEALs had sat at the front of the room and were whispering to each other. A couple of Air Force guys were passing thoughts back and forth on a piece of notebook paper and chuckling. The woman seemed bored. In the far corner of the room sat a very large Army Green Beret and Robert felt a bit better knowing a brother in arms was there with him. The large man sat quietly with eyes forward, sitting almost at attention.
He heard the SEALs chortle and snort and glance over their shoulders at the other men in the room. Then they burst out laughing. One of the Air Force soldiers finally took notice. “What’s the problem, squid?”
The dark haired Asian SEAL turned around in his chair with a shit-eating-grin and asked, “Do you Air Force ladies really wear lace bras under those cammies?” he asked, and the sandy haired one burst out laughing again.
The Air Force men weren’t going to take the bait. The smaller one simply said, “Naw, we wear Navy-issue thongs. You know the kind…like they give those SEAL pussies when they graduate from SEAL school.”
“Ooh, deep cut there, Airedale.” The SEAL laughed. “Too bad the Air Force doesn’t have any real spec ops like the other branches. Jealous much?”
Before things could escalate, the large man in the corner said simply, “Can it, boys.” His voice was deep and loud and everyone could tell he wasn’t trying to project his voice. It simply was the way the man spoke…with authority.
Before anybody could offer a smart assed retort, the door opened and a full-bird colonel entered. The SEALS jumped to attention and shouted, “Attention on deck!”
All of the men were on their feet at attention when the colonel stated simply, “At ease, gentlemen. And, umm, ma’am.”
The man strode across the room and pulled a podium towards the center. He pulled some papers from his folder and spread them over the surface of the podium. The colonel glanced through the papers and then raised his eyes to settle on the group of men seated in the room. He seemed to grade each of them as his eyes took them in. Almost as if studying them, assessing their strengths and weaknesses.
“Folks, my name is Colonel Matt Mitchell. I will be your commanding officer while you are assigned here. Shortly you will be meeting Laura Youngblood, your new Executive Officer.” The colonel seemed to pause as if trying to decide exactly how to proceed. “You’ve all been hand-selected to take part in this venture because you are, quite simply, the absolute best that this nation has to offer.”
All of them listened carefully, waiting for the colonel to explain to them exactly what each of them were doing here. Each man was career military and understood that everything comes in its own time, but the enigmatic way they were brought here had them all a bit anxious. Sanchez, on the other hand, wasn’t used to beating around the bush.
“I’ll be honest with you. This is the first time we’ve had Air Force Combat Controllers in this program, but from what my XO has told me, you men will become an integral part of our new squad.” The two Combat Controllers simply nodded at the colonel. “This is also the first time we’ll be incorporating a female into one of our squads. Other teams have used them and they work quite well. I’ve gone over your record, Sanchez, and it is quite remarkable. I think my XO did a fine job in recruiting you.” Sgt. Sanchez gave a slight nod, still unsure why she was here.
“Historically, this program has run very smooth using Army and Navy spec op warriors because, quite frankly, they are used to being parts of a team. And that is exactly what we are here. One team.” The colonel paused to let his statements soak in. “One team with one goal. One mission. To defend the people of this country from the nastiest monsters you can possibly imagine.”
Matt shuffled his papers and pulled up a roster. One by one he called each person’s name and each responded with either a ‘here’ or by raising their hand. Mitchell stepped out from behind the podium and picked up a remote from the far table. When he clicked it the lights lowered and an overhead projector came on. A sword and shield logo with ‘MS4’ came up on the screen. Clicking again, the image changed to a global map with different areas shaded different colors. Each sector had a different ‘MS’ number and all of America, Canada and northern Mexico were under a blue shading with ‘MS4’ written across the area.
“This is our coverage zone. As you can see, we cover the continental U.S., Canada, northern Mexico and usually cover Alaska as well. And before you ask, we are exempt from the Posse Comitatus Act. We are mandated to act within the borders of the United States and these other zones with the permission of their respective governments,” Mitchell stated.
He then went through each slide, covering the history of each squad, the area they cover, their duties and responsibilities and the size of each unit. Mitchell went over their black budget, the gear that they would be required to learn, support equipment and personnel. He soon reached the ‘augmentation’ slide and paused. When he spoke again, he observed each one to judge their reactions to what he was saying.
“You will each be going through a process of augmentation. You will receive a series of inoculations, injections and other oral supplements that will increase your strength, your speed, and your ability to heal.” Mitchell was somewhat surprised that the biggest reaction was simply a raised eyebrow from one of the SEALs. “This is not only to protect you from the various diseases you may encounter in the field, but also make you impervious to the virus that causes transition in most every human on earth.”
It was at this point tha
t one of the men raised a hand to interrupt Mitchell. “Yes, petty officer?” Mitchell asked Lamb.
Lamb’s face held a confused look when he asked for clarification. “Sir, what sort of virus are we talking about here? Bio-warfare?”
Mitchell’s face stayed stoic when he answered, “Vampirism, petty officer. Vampirism.”
None of them said anything, but one could tell that the mix of emotions went from disbelief to being unsure they heard what Mitchell had said. “You all need to understand a basic fact before I go any further. When I say ‘Monster Squad’ I mean real-life monsters. Honest-to-God boogers that go bump in the night.” He let his statement soak in a moment before continuing. “We fight monsters. We hunt them down, destroy them and then clean up any evidence that they were ever here.”
One of the Combat Controllers snickered. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir.” A lopsided grin spread across his face.
Mitchell’s features hardened. “I don’t think you read me, soldier.”
Some of the men straightened and thought that perhaps Mitchell was serious. Matt clicked the next slide and began to run through a series of photos of examples of exactly what the men were expected to battle. As each slide came up, the men began to sober more and realize that he wasn’t joking. Pictures of ‘people’ with fangs, elongated, reinforced nails, and pasty skin ran across the screen. Mitchell gave a brief narrative of where each was killed and the risks involved. “The virus is spread through scratches, spittle, other bodily fluids and of course, bites. The augmentation is designed to give you a resistance to the virus and prevent ‘turning’ if you come in contact with the pathogen.”
When he reached the last slide, Mitchell set the remote down. “There are a lot of other types of monsters out there that we deal with, but the most common and by far, the most virulent, are vampires.” He gave each person a good long stare square in the eyes. “Historically we have faced down and destroyed everything from zombies to griffins. We have dealt with gargoyles, with trolls, with ghouls, goblins…hell we even had a team in Europe that had to take down a dragon!” The colonel stood straighter and announced, “In fact, they even had to deal with one of ‘the wee people’ in Ireland, and I don’t mean a damned midget either.” The men sort of looked at him suspiciously. When Matt realized nobody understood what he was talking about, he clued them in. “A fucking leprechaun!”
This was followed with ‘ohs’ and nods of understanding.
“If you gentlemen will follow me, I’ll let you see an undead example of what we’re talking about. I would say a living, breathing example, but just like the lore and legend, these things are NOT alive. They are animated, but they are not alive in the sense that medical science considers biological creatures to ‘live’.”
They all rose from their seats and followed Mitchell down a series of hallways to a reinforced cell with a pitiful looking man huddled in the corner. When the soldiers came closer to the cell, the creature sprung forward and tried to attack. When it struck the bars of its cell, its flesh began to smoke and char and the creature shrieked in pain, then pulled back to its corner. They all stood their ground, but were amazed at the feral nature of the creature huddled in the shadows.
“The bars are coated in silver. Apparently that part of the legends are true. These things have a very serious anaphylactic reaction to silver. If the silver gets under the skin or into the bloodstream, death is almost instantaneous.” Gesturing toward the creature, Matt continued, “We captured this one in New Mexico about seven years ago. Originally we intended to study it and see if we could come up with a cure to the disease. Perhaps an antibody that we could then inject from a distance so that our men wouldn’t have to come into contact with it. Obviously, those efforts failed.”
“Are they all this crazed, sir?” Jacobs inquired.
“Negative. When our efforts failed to find a cure, we decided to take a different route.” Mitchell sighed. “It was decided by those much higher than me that our new goal was to see how long it took for these things to starve to death when their food source is removed.”
This time Mueller felt the need for clarification. “How long has this guy been without food, sir?”
Mitchell seemed to be lost in the creature’s eyes. Robert thought that perhaps he didn’t hear the question, but Mitchell finally inhaled deeply and said softly, “Nearly three years.” The creature sat in its corner snarling and gnashing its teeth at the intruders, primal hunger forcing it closer than the burns on its shoulders reminding it that the food couldn’t be had. “He didn’t used to be like this.” Matt sounded almost sad.
“Sir?” Lamb asked.
“When he was first captured and we informed him that we were researching a cure, he was actually very forthcoming and agreeable to the efforts. He was a biologist in his former life and had a photographic memory. He actually assisted in a lot of the weapons’ research. When efforts failed and the decision was made to starve him to death, he was slowly overcome by ‘the thirst’. Now he’s just a shell of what he once was.”
“Did you know him, colonel? Before, I mean,” Jacobs asked.
Shaking his head, Matt responded, “No. But he was quite civilized when we were feeding him, and he was quite the gentleman.” Mitchell sighed and continued, “I’ve hated monsters my entire life, but this man…excuse me, this creature, taught me that not all monsters embrace what they are. Not all of them want to be infected.” Mitchell turned to address the group as a whole. “And that is exactly what this is. An infection. It affects the mind, the body…and yes, the very soul. It is my firm belief that the body is truly dead and, therefore, the soul has left. But if a man is decent prior to infection, then there is a chance he will still be a decent ‘being’ afterwards. If they have a dark spot in their soul, the infection amplifies it. They revert to the most basic of instincts: food, sex, and destruction.”
Mitchell turned and walked out, leaving the creature to its solitude. The soldiers all turned and followed. When Mitchell re-entered the briefing room, the men followed and took their seats again. “From this point on, you will all be receiving a promotion, combat pay, hazardous duty pay, and we will do everything in our power to prepare you for doing battle with these…things. However, you will all be stripped of rank,” Mitchell stated.
The men exchanged looks of confusion. Mitchell continued, “We are mixing different branches of our nation’s military, and now, one of our finest police forces into one unit, and maintaining rank and title can become confusing, especially when we are in combat. Therefore, you will be issued new uniforms, new insignia and after you’ve each finished your training, we will be assigning combat enumerations. These will in no way have anything to do with ability, rank or privilege. Each of you will be tested on your actual strengths, weaknesses, and ability. Your strengths will be amplified via the augmentation program, your weaknesses will be assessed and turned into a strength either by unit billet or by training, and your abilities will improve vastly by program’s end.”
Gus Tracy raised his hand to interrupt. “Sir? What can we, as operators, expect to see during this augmentation? I mean, what sort of improvements?”
“Good question,” Mitchell responded. He pulled out a graph from his folder and used it as a guide. “These numbers are not set in stone, but they are a rule of thumb from previous subjects who underwent and successfully completed the regimen.”
Matt cleared his throat and stated, “Strength increases, on average, to nearly four times that of when the subject began the program. Speed increased to nearly two and half times. Visual acuity increased nearly threefold, not to mention a remarkable increase in depth perception, night vision and speed of acclimation to light changes. Hearing increased nearly threefold. Subjects were able to hear sounds that only canines could detect. So as far as you are concerned, it will be like steroids, on steroids. You will feel like Superman.” Matt smiled at the group. “Only without the flying.”
Putting up his papers, he asked the grou
p, “Any questions?”
“Yes, sir,” Lamb responded with a cheesy grin. “How fast can we get started?”
5
Senator Leslie Franklin sat behind his desk when the call came in from his aide. The call that nobody would have wanted to make, but being the senator’s aide, it had to be done. The Monster Squad not only was not being disbanded, they were to receive an increase in funding and had already gotten new recruits to replace the lost men. Senator Franklin was beyond mad, he was livid. His secretary took it upon herself to cancel the rest of his appointments when she heard the man using words that she hadn’t heard since high school and heard the crystal decanter that the senator used to store his favorite cognac shatter against his office door.
“What do you mean they already have replacements on the ground? That simply can’t be. It’s only been thirty-six hours since half of them were killed!” he screamed into the telephone.
“Yes, sir, I realize that. B-but Ms. Youngblood already had a list prepared. It was pushed through the Pentagon and the men re-allocated within hours. They’ve already began training, sir,” The aide responded.
Franklin wanted to slam the phone down, but somehow, his energy was simply drained. He laid it carefully back into its cradle and sat back in his plush leather chair. He propped his head in his hands and wanted so desperately to weep, yet he held himself in check. He couldn’t allow this to happen. There had to be a way. He just needed to think of it. There had to be a way to stop the Monster Squad for good.
*****
Jack Thompson woke feeling slightly better, but his body still ached. There was a new candle burning by his bedside and fresh linens stacked near the bed. He noticed two more wet washrags near the wash basin and realized that Nadia must have come to him during his sleep and tended to him once again.
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