He had stayed on I-45 until he hit the Dallas metropolis, then worked his way across to I-35 and pointed the black SUV north again. It was too dark to be distracted by sites along the way and concentrating on driving was enough to drive him insane. He glanced at his watch and figured he had about three hours left before he hit the gates at Tinker.
Jack played out the different scenarios in his mind over and over, trying to imagine how it might actually go down when he reported back to his unit. But he knew as well as anybody that no matter what contingencies he might plan for, it all goes out the window once his boots hit the ground. As far as he knew, the squad assumed him dead.
Jack chuckled to himself. They had called him Phoenix once after a particularly hairy incident with a pack of vamps in an abandoned school building. The squad had cut the gas line feeding the old building and let it fill with gas, then just before the building was set to be popped, the perch where Jack had been sitting overwatch to snipe any who attempted to escape broke loose and collapsed onto the decaying roof. He fell through the decaying roof and into the top story of the building. He knew he only had moments to get out of the building before the whole thing went up in flames and made a mad dash for the doors. The building went up in a fire ball just before he made the doors. It had blown him out of the open double doors and Jack was able to tuck and roll then come to his feet and walk away, but to his team, it appeared as if he simply walked out of the fire ball. The name Phoenix had stuck with him ever since.
“Well, if they think I’m dead and I come walking back in now, they’ll really think I’m a fucking Phoenix,” he said to himself. He ripped open a beef jerky he got from the shit-n-git and stuffed it in his mouth. He kept thinking about the team that he went into that op with. Rufus told him that none survived but him. He truly hoped that Rufus was wrong.
Jack patted the arm pocket on his BDU shirt. The satellite phone was still there. He considered calling Nadia, but…what would he say? What could he say? He didn’t even tell her good-bye before he left. He hated leaving that way, but he was hurt and didn’t know what to say. All he knew was, no matter what the squad might think or do, if they go on the defensive, he had to stay alive. For her sake.
He truly didn’t expect that they would fire on him, but he didn’t expect that they would accept him back with open arms. Best case scenario, many, many hours of debriefing, most likely followed by chemical questioning, and if he was lucky, they might not imprison him. In his mind, he technically turned coat by mating with a werewolf. And he agreed to help a vampire clan; albeit one who saved his life, and seemed completely non-threatening.
If he could only convince the colonel that Rufus was the real deal and that the squad was being used, then perhaps maybe…just maybe he could accomplish his goal. Then they could toss him under the prison. As long as he could get Mitchell to listen to him.
That’s the key, though. Getting the skipper to listen to me.
*****
The night turned out to be uneventful. Laura spent the evening taking catnaps in her office when she could. Matt checked in on her and even spread a blanket over her one time in the wee hours to keep her from catching a chill. He pulled the shades over the window in her office and switched off her desk lamp before he slipped out and quietly shut her door.
The adrenaline coursing through him had kept him from sleeping, but was leaving him feeling ragged. He almost looked forward to shifting at the full moon just to give his system a reset. His nerves were almost shot. Evan came up beside him with a foul smelling brew and handed it to him. “It will help, sir,” he said, offering the steaming cup.
“It smells like boiled assholes,” Matt said, handing the cup back.
“Probably tastes like it, too.” Evan smirked. “Just drink it. It will ease the nerves. May even ease your shift tonight as well.”
“Tonight? I lost track of time,” Matt said as he took the cup and, while holding his breath, drank it down.
“It’s nearly dawn, sir,” Evan said. “I’m about to head to bed myself.”
Matt stifled a belch, hoping dearly not to have to taste the concoction a second time. “Bed? I thought as long as you were down here, you didn’t fall prey to day/night cycles?” he asked.
“Usually, I don’t. But I’ve been going for days, and my mind could use the rest.”
“Roger that.” Matt looked into the cup and saw the black residue. “Bane?”
“Among other things, yes, sir.”
He nodded and handed the mug back. “Thank you, Evan. I do appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, colonel.”
“I think I’m going to go topside and watch the sun come up. Maybe help the squad pack some of the gear. They pretty much know that something will happen tonight. Always does on a full moon.”
“Roger that, sir.” Evan smiled at him.
*****
Senator Franklin waited impatiently by his television in his office. He wanted to see the first broadcasts from whoever had the nerve to report first about the Monster Squad and its illustrious leader and their wasteful appropriation of government funds. He was practically shaking with excitement and actually found himself biting at his fingernails...a habit he had spent years breaking himself of. He had arrived at his office in the wee hours of the morning and frantically switched from CNN, to FOX, to ABC, to MSNBC back to CNN and kept switching channels hoping to be the first to catch the breaking news.
Surely someone would see all of the CCs in the email and realize that everybody was being sent the information. Surely somebody would risk running the story first thing based on the official looking documents rather than trying to validate each one through some fact-finding fiasco? He was beginning to become impatient when he finally got to MSNBC and saw the footer that read, ‘Breaking Story’ and he turned up the volume, “This just in: In an apparent mass e-mailing to nearly every news agency from Senator Leslie Franklin’s private e-mail address comes this full-length video of the Senator with an unidentified male prostitute. We want to warn our viewers that although the video has been blurred out, you may want to remove your children from the room.”
Franklin dropped the remote to his television. “NO!” he screamed. “This is wrong! That’s not right!” His eyes focused on the red haired woman from New Orleans with the large cock that he was sure nobody knew of…and although the image was blurred, it was obvious that he, Senator Franklin, was on national television, sucking on that cock. It cut to another image that, although blurred, showed Senator Franklin on all fours with the red haired woman behind him, obviously giving it to him from behind. Her breasts and organ had been blurred out, but his face and the look of pure pleasure wasn’t.
Franklin fell to the floor of his office and felt all the blood leave his face. He could hear the reporter talking, but his mind wasn’t registering what was being said. His entire life flashed before his eyes and he wasn’t proud of what he saw. He felt his body begin to shake and he wished it was an earthquake, opening up to swallow him whole and remove him from this nightmare. Scrambling across the rich carpeted floor, he scooped up the remote. Perhaps the other news agencies had more tact and refused to run it? Perhaps…no. There it was. He changed the channel again. There he was, the blurred image of the redhead’s cock in his mouth, his tongue sliding up and down. At the bottom of the screen, it read ‘For the unedited version go to our website…’
Franklin screamed and threw the remote at the flat screen, but it refused to break. One corner of the screen glowed blue with tints of green, but the redhead continued to pump it to him from the rear. He curled up in the fetal position to cry just as his cell phone began to ring. He ignored it. He had to. People couldn’t know already. There had to be a way to take it back. To deny it. He could claim it was all faked in order to discredit him…that was it…maybe people would believe it.
Franklin slowly made his way to his feet and looked at his watch. It was early. Very early. Surely nobody else was here yet. He could
slip out of the offices and go back home. He could hide there until things blew over. Surely they’d all forget in a day or two. What was the name of that one senator who got caught screwing his au pair? Right?! Nobody remembers. It was old news.
The image of him and the redhead flashed in his mind again and he retched in his trash bin. He had to leave. Now.
*****
Laura woke with a start. She actually jerked awake, knocking the blanket to the floor. A knock at her office door snapped her back to reality. She sat up and flicked the light switch on the wall. “Come in,” she croaked.
A bleary eyed technician stuck his head into her office. “Ma’am, you might want to check the newsfeeds this morning. We just picked it up a little while ago, but I can’t find Colonel Mitchell.”
Laura glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly dawn. He was either asleep, or, with his condition, trying to burn off the extra energy his body was creating. “I’ll find him,” she said, sounding like she had just gargled with gravel. “What channel?”
The tech frowned. “Pick one, ma’am. They’re all running it.”
Laura had an ‘oh-shit’ moment, thinking the worst, fearing the storm had finally broken and this one was big enough that the secret they had fought to keep hidden all these years was finally out. She scanned her desk for the TV remote, then finally stood and pressed the power button. It was on FOX news, and the first thing she saw was a screen shot of Senator Franklin on all fours with the redheaded transsexual behind him. Parts of the image were blacked out, but she knew exactly what was going on because she had been there. She felt ill as her eyes scanned to the bottom of the screen and the ‘Breaking News’ banner. She turned up the volume and listened while the reporter explained that nobody knew exactly ‘why Senator Franklin would e-mail the video to every major news outlet, internet blogger and tabloid, but according to sources, the man in the images shown here was confirmed to be Illinois Senator Leslie Franklin with an unknown transsexual prostitute’…Laura turned off the television.
She practically fell back on the couch. He did it. He actually did it. Laura searched her side for her two-way radio. “Colonel, come in.”
“Go for Mitchell,” he responded.
“Franklin sent the package,” was all she said. She waited for him to respond. It took much longer than she expected.
Finally, Matt came back across the radio, “I’m topside, Laura. Meet me in the hangar.” She couldn’t tell by his voice any emotion. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she reached him topside.
Finally, she keyed the radio, “Roger that, sir. See you in twenty.” She had just woken up and knew she must look a mess. She at least wanted to drag a brush through her hair and pour some coffee to take with her.
She stood and went to the small sink in the corner of her office and wet a paper towel. She wiped her face and flipped open the cabinet door above it. She looked like death, but had looked worse. Grabbing a brush, she pulled it through her hair a few times and pulled it into a tight pony tail. When in doubt, a pony tail hides a mess, and if you can get it tight enough, it can pull the wrinkles from lack of sleep out of your face. Even tighter, and the pain will keep you alert. At least, that’s what she told herself.
Piping hot java juice and she would be right as rain.
27
Franklin had no sooner got in the door and his phone stopped ringing. Seventeen messages were left on his answering machine. He tentatively reached out and pressed the button and one by one the recorded messages played out. People he had long called friends, even though they weren’t, left the most horrible messages for him. They told him how he needed to turn in his resignation, quit, save face while he could. He needed to do the right thing for the party, regardless of how forgiving and liberal the party may be, this isn’t the same as ‘coming out’. The only friendly message of support came from an opposing party member who he had come through the ranks with as Freshmen…a damned Republican who extended a hand of friendship and offered to be a sounding board during this obviously difficult time. How many times had Franklin scoffed at the man for being weak because he had offered his friendship in the past? Finally, he heard Damien’s voice. “I warned you, father,” he growled. “Now we will deal with Mitchell our own way. We will drown him in a sea of blood…and you will be the first in our path!”
More messages followed, but Franklin didn’t hear any of them. He was shaking too badly. He stumbled to his bedroom and began ripping apart his closet.
*****
Jack approached the main gate at Tinker with his ID in hand. His window was down and the gate guard only gave his vehicle a cursory glance. The inspection sticker on the truck was good, the plates were government, and he knew his ID was good. The only problem he may have was if Mitchell knew he was alive and had alerted the guards to be on the lookout for him. The guard glanced at the ID, glanced at his face and saluted him through. Jack pulled forward, navigated through the concrete barricades and made his way south and west toward the hangar. The rising sun to his left and the oncoming morning traffic felt like any other day of the week.
So why did he have this knot in his gut?
Oh, yeah. He was supposed to be dead. He’d lost track of how long he’d been gone. Surely Mitchell had replaced his squad by now. They may even still be in training. They may have even cut their teeth with some minor incident. Jack knew with the full moon tonight, shit was going to get ugly, fast. He also knew that Mitchell would find a reason to not be there and Laura Youngblood would have to command the operation. Mitchell was never there on the roughest night of the month. The rest of the month, you couldn’t pull his ass away from the hangar, but on the full moon, he’d fucking disappear…
Jack hit the brakes so hard that the minivan behind him almost hit his SUV. A horn sounded and he could hear the minivan’s driver cursing him even through the closed window. Jack hurriedly pulled the SUV into the parking lot of the Post Exchange and parked it across two parking spaces while the realization sunk in. Oh my God. Mitchell is a wolf, too! “Son-of-a-bitch!” Jack yelled and punched the roof of the SUV leaving a noticeable raised dent in the roof. “Why didn’t I ever put two and two together before?” Because you didn’t know what you were before, dumbass!
“Fuck me!” Jack yelled. He stepped out of the SUV and paced. This was significant, but he didn’t exactly know how. Think, Jack. Think! He stopped and placed both hands on the fender of the SUV. His heart was racing and he was having trouble thinking. Between the energy rushes of the moon’s pull and being separated from Nadia, he was having a lot of trouble focusing. He kept pushing her from his thoughts, but more than anything he wanted to turn the truck around and go home.
Home.
Home? Yes, home. As much as he hated to finally admit it to himself, she was home. Home wasn’t a place, it was her. It didn’t matter if he lived on the island or if he was working at the hangar, where Nadia was, he would be. He had to be home.
But first, he had to complete one last mission.
*****
Laura entered the hangar and found Matt helping the squad pack gear into different crates and go-bags. They separated it into different areas for different threats and although the teams were always ready, in times like these, when threats were imminent, they would check and double check that everything was right. No soldier wanted to risk their gear failing them in the field. It was make-work, but it was a necessary evil.
She approached him tentatively, unsure of his reaction. When he noticed her, he stood tall, his face solemn. Matt seemed honestly troubled. He turned to Laura, away from the squads, even though they would eventually hear of Franklin’s ‘exposure’ he hoped to keep their part of it from them. “I truly hoped that he wouldn’t remember. I hoped that he would never use it,” he said softly.
Laura looked away, shaking her head. “We shouldn’t have left the USB drive with him, Matt. He eventually would have, you know it.”
“Laura, we went over this,” Matt sighed
. “I had hoped he would have the sense to check it first and realize we had something on him. That he would back down…”
“We knew his psych profile suggested that he wouldn’t do that, though. Evan even told us that his personality type would preclude such action,” she argued.
Matt sighed. “You’re right.” He stared off through the open doors. “You’re right. Whatever comes of this will be on my head.”
One of Matt’s butter-bar lieutenants approached him. “Colonel, you have a priority call. You can take it there.” He pointed to a phone near a workbench.
Matt went to the bench and picked up the phone. “Mitchell.”
Senator Franklin spoke quietly into the phone, “You aren’t answering your cell, Mitchell. Is that your way of being insubordinate?”
Matt pulled his cell out and glanced at it. Dead. “Apologies, senator. I forgot to charge it…”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it, asshole?!” he snarled.
“Excuse me, senator?” Matt tried to play stupid, but he knew he had it coming.
“Don’t play coy with me, Mitchell. You may have won the battle, but you’re going to lose the war. There’s a blood bath coming and you will drown in it! Mark my words, Mitchell. I was the only thing that could have saved humanity and you just…” Franklin paused and Matt could hear something hit the phone. “You just caused the fucking apocalypse!” There was a blast across the phone line followed by another sound that Matt couldn’t make out. The line didn’t go dead, but he couldn’t quite hear. The full strength of the shotgun blast that took off Senator Franklin’s head wasn’t carried across the line, but Matt knew a gun blast when he heard it.
He set the phone line down. “Trace that call and alert EMS to that address!” he yelled to his lieutenant.
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