“Neither will I,” Matt said. “That’s why I’m going to go in-house.” He turned and walked into his office. Laura, confused as hell, followed him.
“What do you mean, go in-house?”
“I mean, we’re going to supply him ourselves. Fresh human blood.”
Laura was dumbfounded. “How?”
“Volunteers.”
Laura stood in Matt’s office, her mouth open. She watched as he worked his computer for a bit. He sat back and studied it. “We have just under two hundred personnel with the team, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Not counting the actual squad members, since we don’t know what the augmented blood would do to him, that leaves a hundred and eighty-three actual people. So, let’s say we can get a hundred volunteers. They can donate every eight weeks, so that will be close to two units per day. If we get more volunteers, that would be more blood. If we get fewer volunteers, it would be less, but either way, at least we’ll be in-house and nobody is the wiser.”
Laura was dumbfounded. “Do you think our people will do it?” she asked. “Will we tell them what it’s for? Surely some of them will recognize him and…”
“Those who knew him, liked him. They all thought he got a raw deal,” Matt said. He sat back in his chair. “The new people either won’t know or can think it’s for researching new anti-vamp weapons. I don’t give a shit what they think. I’m not going to twist anybody’s arm to do this.”
“Word of mouth or…”
“Post it on the break room doors, the rec room, the snack machines, the latrine doors, anywhere people frequent. Make it flyers. I don’t want emails going out on this. Make it ambiguous, too. Let them think it’s for the R&D department,” Matt said. “If we can’t order fresh human blood, then we’ll use our own. Either way, make sure it’s known that we gotta have it and we need a steady supply of it.”
“Mission essential?”
“Eh, don’t play it up that far. Not yet. If we don’t get the participation I expect, then we can step it up.”
Laura plopped herself into the chair opposite Matt and sighed. “We really did it, didn’t we?”
“We stepped in it.” Matt laughed.
“When you began this journey, did you ever think you’d be sitting here like this?” she asked. “I mean, not only did you have one of the ‘enemy’ working for you, but you just went against your orders to free a prisoner…one of the enemy…and put him back to work for you?”
Matt looked at her over his still untouched scotch. The ice had long ago melted. “Do you consider Evan an enemy, Laura?”
She didn’t quite expect that question. She looked down at her hands and saw that she had been picking at her nails nervously. “No,” she answered quietly. “But I’ve never blatantly went against so many orders before, either.” She sighed and took a deep breath. “Honestly, I’m a bit scared.”
Matt sat up and looked her square in the eye. “Well, don’t be.” This time he took a drink from his Scotch. “Those orders were bullshit and we both know it. Evan was no threat. Franklin had a hair up his ass, and Doc out there was a threat to his agenda,” he said, hooking his thumb out the door to indicate the lab area. “Whatever the doc is learning out in his lab has Franklin running scared, and I want to know why.”
12
“I don’t care what the weather is going to be like, I need to be on a plane to Oklahoma City,” Senator Franklin stated.
The voice on the phone said something back, and Franklin’s face turned red. Why did people in the military always assume that because he was a politician, he must be stupid? Tornadoes meant nothing to him, he was a senator, for crying out loud!
“Then make it a civilian transport! In fact, I prefer civilian carriers, they’re more comfortable.”
The voice argued that the airports in and around Oklahoma City were closed due to the weather and would not be reopening until the weather passed. One of the largest storm cells in history was about to hit the metro area, and air traffic was grounded from Dallas to Kansas City in anticipation of it. Nothing was taking off or landing due to the extremely high winds and threat of tornadoes.
“My dear boy, you do realize you are talking to a United States senator, don’t you?”
“Well, senator, your constituents must be proud that they elected someone who thinks he can control the weather, but the fact remains that the airports are still closed until further notice!” And then he hung up.
The Distinguished Gentleman from Illinois seethed at the insolence of the peon who dared hang up on him. How dare he?! Franklin screeched as he ripped the phone from the cradle and threw it against the wall. It shattered the framed photo of him standing with his wife before her illness and Damien when we was six (or was he seven?), before stretching the cord to its fullest and careening back across his desk and hitting him in the wrist, cracking the crystal of his Rolex.
Franklin rubbed at his wrist, nursing his wounded pride and his wounded wrist. His pride and joy, the watch that, he felt, helped to distinguish him as a mover and shaker amongst mere mortals had been damaged in his fit of rage. He was just about to blow up again when his secretary stepped into his office, “Senator? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” he snapped. “Did you clear my agenda?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered. “I’ve got all of your appointments moved and your meetings are rescheduled.”
Through clenched teeth he said, “Move them back another day. It seems Mother Nature has decided to toss a monkey wrench into my works.” He grabbed his overcoat off the hanger and his briefcase from the side of his desk. “I’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day.” And he pushed his way past her leaving her staring at his back.
*****
“What does a full moon have to do with any of this?” Jack asked Nadia.
Nadia sighed and took his hands into hers. She was surprisingly warm to the touch, and her hands were soft and gentle. Her thumb rubbed against the side of his hand and the butterflies returned to his stomach. Jack felt his face flush a little, but he tried not to show it. He squeezed her hand gently and looked at her face, the curve of her cheek, the shape of her eyes, the curve of her nose, the arch of her brows, and for a moment, he forgot that they were supposed to be talking.
“Jack, how long have you been taking the dark pills?”
“Huh?” His confusion at the question surprised himself. He had to think for a moment to remember how long he had been with the squad. “A few years, I suppose. Does it matter?”
“The length of time? Yes.”
“Why?”
“Do you know how big the pills are that they give you?”
“Nadia, what’s going on? What’s with all the questions?” Jack asked, his hands still in hers.
She looked directly into his eyes and he saw sadness there. Genuine concern laced her face as she spoke. “We found a live virus in your blood, Jack. It is not what we thought we’d find, yet not exactly surprising,” she said. “We do not have the equipment necessary to identify it, but we had our suspicions, so I came to you with these questions.”
“A virus?” Jack knew that a virus usually meant a cold or flu, but he hadn’t been sick since he joined the team. “What kind of virus?”
“There are many kinds of virus. Some make you ill, some can kill. All viruses cause mutations to the host’s DNA through—”
“Whoa, hold on a second! Mutations?”
“Yes. They inject their own DNA material into the cells of the host,” Nadia said. “The body usually fights off these foreign invaders through fever.”
“But I haven’t been sick a day since I joined the squads. In fact, other than getting busted up during the last op, I haven’t felt better.”
“I understand. And if you will allow me to explain—”
“What’s to explain?” Jack said, pushing away from her. “Your tests are wrong. I’m not sick.”
“Jack, you are most certainly not sick,”
Nadia stated. “You have been infected, though.”
“Infected?!”
“Yes. And those black pills you take keep it from taking full effect. We need to get you taking it again to prevent unspeakable things from happening to you.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Nadia?” Jack exclaimed.
“Jack,” Nadia said calmly, “you were infected by your own people. The infection can be kept in check, but only with the black substance you have been taking regularly. Otherwise, very bad things can, and will happen to you. Bad things, that…once they are done, cannot be undone.”
Jack’s rapid breathing began to slow. He was forcibly calming himself. He had been pushing himself further from her as she spoke, but now he sat and calmly placed his hands back in his lap. Nadia tentatively reached for his hands and caressed them again. “Am I a vampire, Nadia?” Jack asked.
She smiled softly. “No, Jack., you are most certainly not a vampire.” Jack looked at her long and hard. Her soft smile broadened and slowly he started to grin. “Are you sure I’m not?” He smiled bigger.
“I am certain,” she said, her smile growing larger.
“Oh, thank God,” Jack said, letting out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he had held. “You were starting to scare the crap out of me!”
Nadia laughed softly with him. “No, Jack, you are not a vampire.” She laid her head against his shoulder and they sighed together. “You are a werewolf,” she said. Jack suddenly went stiff. “Like me.”
*****
With the weather outside growing nastier by the minute, the squads were forced to train indoors and underground. The majority of the Monster Squad’s facilities were under the hangar; this included CQB training areas, indoor firing ranges, the gymnasium, basically everything that shouldn’t be seen by the outside base or could possibly be stumbled upon. But whenever they possibly could, they squads would train off-base in real world scenarios. ‘In the muck’ as they put it. Without getting the sand in your teeth and the mud between your toes, it’s hard to train for real-world situations. Popo argued that training during the storm would sharpen their senses, since they might one day be called to take down something in that exact situation, but the colonel shot down the request. The team was on stand-down. They basically had R&R if they wanted it, but each of the squad members were feeling restless. They wanted to get out from under the hangar and run in the rain. They wanted to feel the ozone charged air on their skin and howl at the thunder.
Lamb put it best when he said he felt like he was amped up on a dozen Red Bulls, even though he hated the taste of the stuff. TD said he felt like he could do a thousand pull-ups and still run a marathon. Spanky sat in a chair and stared at a crack in the wall as if he expected something evil to crawl out of it at any given second. Hammer, Donovan, and Dom all opted to hit the gym and take out their excess energies on the heavy bags and kickboxing dummies. Marshall, Tracy, and Mueller joined them rather than sit and let their energies build up like a pop bottle that had been shaken to the point of explosion.
Apollo slipped off to the showers. He snuck out of the locker room, straining his ears to listen for the footfalls of his teammates. When he was satisfied that they were on the other side of the facility, he slowly closed the door to the shower facility and opened the faucet to as hot as he could stand it. He let it blast across his neck and broad shoulders to try to release the built up tension. It seemed that at least once a month, tensions would build up in all of his team mates and they would all get antsy, as if their energy levels were amped so high they couldn’t release enough. They couldn’t work out hard enough to reach exhaustion, sleep was impossible to find, and sexual frustration was…well, now it was nearly impossible with that incredible little Latina SWAT girl and her incredible ass that had started showering with them all. He wanted to just reach out and squeeze that ass of hers, to bite it, to pick her up and impale her on himself so many times…but she was a squad member now. A team mate. His team mate. He could no more make a move on her than he could make a move on the Padre. He lathered up as best as he could, but noticed that just the fleeting thought of Sanchez had his manhood standing at unwavering attention.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that? he wondered. There was no way he was going to get caught dead spanking it in the shower. But he never had a chance to make any more decisions as a warm set of hands wrapped themselves around him from behind and he felt the distinct impression of soft breasts press into his lower back.
“I never thought I’d get you alone,” Sanchez growled from behind him. Her searching hands ran down his soapy abs until they found what had moments before embarrassed him. “Madre de Dios!” she whispered. She grabbed him by the hips and spun him around to face him. This time, she didn’t look up. Her eyes widened. And she smiled. When she did look up, she licked her lips and growled, “I’ve always loved a challenge.” And her eyes grew darker as she tiptoed and raised her arms up to his neck. He bent down and grabbed a cheek of her ass in each hand and lifted her up to him and took her mouth with his. Apollo could feel her small muscular body sliding against his and it engorged him that much more. He could feel his need throbbing against her.
She let go of his neck and used her hand to guide him where he needed to be. She had to use her thighs against his hips and lift herself high enough to get him started. He helped by lifting her ass higher. When he was placed correctly, she relaxed her legs and he slowly lowered her. She gasped in his mouth and he covered her moans with his kiss. Slowly, so slowly he entered her tiny body until finally she placed her hands against his chest.
With stuttering words she said, “Wait.” She shivered and her eyes glossed over. She shook there and he could feel her convulsing around him for quite some time. He was only halfway in her. After what seemed an eternity, she relaxed and opened her eyes and stared at him. “Incredible,” she whispered.
He smiled, his teeth seeming even whiter against his dark skin. “And we’re only getting started.” He kissed her again and slowly went deeper. Her breath caught in her throat as she kissed him again.
The shower door banged open and Ing Jacobs came walking in whistling a tune he heard from the radio. He tossed a towel up on a hook and turned to walk to a shower. He saw them in action and froze. Apollo and Sanchez never missed a beat. Apollo was still holding Sanchez and slowly raising and lowering her on himself under the hot water of the shower. Ing couldn’t move. He just stared at the two in action. He couldn’t explain why, but he couldn’t stop staring. If asked, it wasn’t like watching a porn movie, it was something of beauty, and it took his breath away. A stupid thing to say, and he couldn’t explain it, but that was what it was.
Sanchez pulled away from Apollo’s kiss and looked over her shoulder to Ing. “Do you mind? Private party.”
Ing was snapped out of his stupor. “Huh? Oh...uh, yeah. Umm, I was just…er…yeah. I just…like…wow. That was beautiful. I mean, that is beautiful. Ha! I mean…uhh…carry on! I’ll just, um, stand out…you know. I’ll just stand outside the door and umm. You know. Stand guard. You guys just…take all the time you want,” Ing stammered as he stepped back out of the showers.
Apollo looked down into Sanchez’s eyes. “Kids,” he laughed.
Ing came back in quickly and grabbed his towel off the hook. Sheepishly he said, “Sorry. Felt stupid standing out there, naked.” And he slipped back out the door.
Sanchez laughed and she and Apollo went back to what they were doing so well.
13
Mitchell stepped off the elevator and headed to the indoor range. He didn’t often shoot, but when he did, he preferred his privacy. The one thing he did appreciate about his position was that he could take what time he did have and use it as proficiently as he saw fit. If that meant spending it in the gym, he could. If he wanted to go to the indoor range, he could do that as well. As he stepped behind the shooters table and attached a target to the clips, the motorized transom ran it out to distance. A life-sized ta
rget, he should be able to score easily with his eyesight. He began loading the magazines and setting them on the table for future use when some of the new recruits came in. The colonel looked up for a moment then went back to loading his magazines.
The men glanced down and noticed the colonel was loading 9MM rounds into one set of mags and .45s into another set. Lamb felt compelled to ask, “Colonel, you don’t carry a FiveseveN like the rest of us?”
“No, son, I’m usually stuck in control and, to be honest, I still prefer the old classics,” Matt said.
The men just nodded. They had grown fond of the new weapons, but some of them really wished they could trade out the carbine for the M4 they were so much more familiar with. They just didn’t know how to breach the subject with the colonel. He seemed so adamant that they use the same caliber weapon for both their pistol and carbine that it seemed sacrilege to even broach the subject.
The colonel ran through a couple of magazines of 9MM and shot well. Good enough for an officer, Jacobs thought. “You ever shoot the FiveseveN, sir?”
Matt glanced at Ing over his glasses as he reloaded his magazines. “Of course, Jacobs. I’m the one who approved the platform,” he said.
The men all just nodded. Finally, Matt set his ammunition and magazines down and looked at the men. “Is there something you boys would like to discuss with me?” he asked point blank.
Most of the men took half a step back, muttering, ‘no’ or ‘no, sir’ as they did, but Lamb stepped forward. “Sir, I’d like to request permission to transition back to the M4 battle rifle.”
Matt raised an eyebrow. Of the two squads, none had ever requested anything like this before. They all seemed more than happy with the FN weaponry. They loved the cyclic rate, the power of the 5.7 round, the lethality of the low grain .224 bullet, the light weight of the weapon, the short barrel was perfect for CQB. He saw no flaws with it. “Is there a reason why, Ron?”
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