by C. E. Martin
"Leg bone's connected to the foot bone," she said, almost singing.
The door to the chamber began to cycle shut.
***
Josie and Jimmy were in the third floor cafeteria of Argon Tower, eating burgers and chatting as they sat by the windows looking out over nearby Biscayne Bay.
"Mind if I join you?" Dr. Guerrera asked, walking over with a tray.
"Sure," Jimmy said, moving his tray closer so the doctor had room at the four person table.
Josie hesitated in mid-chew, not sure what to say. Since finding out about Dr. Guerrera's memory lapse, Josie felt very uncomfortable around her. She didn't want to be the one to slip and say something the Doctor shouldn't hear about her forgotten past.
Dr. Guerrera sat her tray down next to Jimmy, across from Josie. "I was wondering if we could talk."
Josie smiled, swallowing and wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Sure, Doc."
"Call me Maria," Guerrera said, opening a pack of croutons and sprinkling them over her salad.
"Funny how tastes change after so many years... asleep," she said.
"You hold the record, right?" Jimmy asked. Josie kicked his shin under the table.
"Yes, I suppose I do. Although there are still a couple of subjects from before me that haven't been revived yet." She took a bite of salad and chewed it quickly, then sipped at her iced tea.
"Cafeteria might even be better these days," she said.
"I sure love it," Jimmy said, happily taking a large bite of his burger. Josie glared at him.
"You, uh, see stuff like this in the sixties?" Josie asked. She immediately winced at her slip up. This was exactly why she'd avoided conversations with Dr. Guerrera.
Maria paused, about to put another forkful of salad in her mouth. "Fifties. I was petrified in fifty-nine. Missed New Year's and the whole decade."
"Right," Josie said, looking down then stuffing several french fries in her mouth.
Maria set down her fork and looked intently at Josie. "It seems I know less about myself than most of you do."
Jimmy finally got it and continued taking large bites to keep his mouth full. Josie just shrugged, trying to avoid eye contact as she continued to chew.
"Look," Maria said, pushing her salad aside. "I know Dr. King has been pretty strict on my acclimatization to the twenty first century. And I understand that—I am a doctor. But watching videos and reading history books has left a lot of blanks."
"Try Wikipedia," Jimmy said around a mouthful of food. This time he managed to dodge Josie's kick under the table.
Maria leaned in, closer to Josie. "What do you know about me and the Colonel?"
***
"It's alive!" Laura Olson said, laughing in a deep voice as she pumped electrical-like lifeforce into the frozen shards covering the surgical table. Her fingers were splayed wide, each touching a different chunk of what used to be Eric Mosley.
The blue energy crackled and sparked among the frozen pieces, jumping between gaps like electricity. Steam began to rise from the shattered body.
Laura was frowning at Kenslir who watched the procedure like a statue. "You don't have much of a sense of humor, did you know that?"
"Karloff was better in person," the Colonel said, intently watching Mosley's shattered body.
The frozen flesh was rapidly thawing now, more and more steam rising from the pieces as moisture drawn previously from the air to form the icy shell around Mosley when he was frozen evaporated away. The pieces now began to shake, almost vibrating in place. Then they began to move.
Like pieces of magnets, many jumped together, clicking into place. Others made a wetter sound as they smacked into one another then fused into larger pieces.
Laura held out a hand. "He needs a bit more, I think. Hit me."
Kenslir frowned and reached across the table and held Laura's hand. Blue-green light flashed between their hands as she drew lifeforce from the Colonel.
"You always make me so tingly," Laura said, then placed her other hand out. This time she didn't touch the pieces of Mosley. Streaks of blue sparked from her fingertips, dancing across the remains on the table, causing them to glow and spark briefly.
Kenslir pulled back his hand, now turned to stone to the elbow. "You're faster now."
Laura shook her head affirmatively, still watching over the pieces. They were coming together more quickly now. Mosley was only a few dozen pieces now. "Yep. Neat, hunh?"
She stepped back and signaled Kenslir to do the same. The Colonel lowered his right hand to the butt of his pistol as he stepped back a pace. Phillips and Hornbeck lifted their M60s to their shoulders, ready to shoot.
Mosley's body finally was reformed, the last pieces fusing back together. The steam and water coming off him dissipated, the last of the excess moisture evaporated by his regenerative abilities. His body twitched two times, spasms of life in the formerly-broken man.
"Am I good or what?" Laura asked.
The rebuilt vampire suddenly sat up, mouth wide, fangs exposed. He looked to Laura then Kenslir and hissed loudly.
The Colonel's right fist whipped out, backhanding the vampire in the mouth, shattering most of his teeth. The blow was so strong, Mosley collapsed back onto the table.
"What the hell?" the vampire whined. He raised his hands to his mouth, trying to catch the blood and fragments of teeth dribbling out.
"Time to do some talking, Mr. Mosley," Kenslir said. He slapped a hand down on the vampire's chest, producing a bright green light.
"Hey!" Mosley said, trying to sit up again. But despite his best efforts he couldn't budge under the hand holding him down. He looked to Laura in a panic.
"Don't look at me—I'm just the doctor here," she said, grabbing one of his wrists and guiding it into an open shackle. She had it closed before the pinned vampire could protest.
"Let me go!" Mosley yelled. He raised his other hand, trying to grab at Kenslir. The Colonel grabbed it calmly and placed it in the other wrist shackle, which Laura promptly closed.
"What the f-" Mosley yelled. He began to thrash, his legs kicking.
"Ugh, lets cover that up," Laura said, draping a cloth over the restrained vampire's groin. Now that he was fully thawed, the bits and pieces of what had been his clothes were falling off his body in dry flakes.
Laura moved to Mosley's feet and calmly grabbed one ankle, then the other, locking them into place as well.
"I'll kill you!" Mosley hissed, his fangs and teeth regrown.
Kenslir grabbed the vampire's nose with his right hand and gave it a crunching twist.
"Agh!" Mosley yelled, blood spraying out from his mangled nose.
"Calm down," Kenslir said, leaning in so the vampire could see his intense green-black eyes. He moved his left hand off Mosley's chest.
The security guard relaxed, laying his head back and moving his eyes from side to side, from Laura to the Colonel. He wasn't to full strength yet. He'd have to bide his time.
"What is this place?" he asked. His nose was shifting back into place, repairing itself.
"You were bitten by a werewolf," Kenslir said.
Mosley sneered. "Not quite."
Kenslir snatched his hand out, grabbing one of Mosley's fangs between his index finger and thumb. The vampire tried to move his head, but Kenslir's grip and strength were too much.
The Colonel snapped the tooth off and pitched it into a nearby drum of liquid nitrogen.
When Mosley stopped screaming he glared at Kenslir but said nothing.
"Hey," Laura said, leaning in and lowering her voice to a husky whisper. "My boyfriend here is not the kind of guy you want to piss off." She opened her mouth wide, revealing her own fangs—canines that elongated as Mosley watched.
"You're a vam-" Mosley started to say hatefully. His eyes flitted toward Kenslir and he stopped. When he spoke again, his tone was less hateful. "You're a vampire. Big deal."
Kenslir thumped Mosley on the forehead to get his attention. "You were bitten b
y a werewolf."
"Fine. Yes. I was bit. What of it?"
"Why?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Mosley said. Seeing Kenslir leaning closer he started talking again. "He bit my hand, but when he heard the other guard coming, he jumped into the light and was gone."
"When did you start to turn?" Laura asked.
"Couple of hours," Mosley answered. He strained against the shackles holding him, ever so slightly, so his captors wouldn't see. They still wouldn't budge.
"Why didn't you seek help?" Kenslir asked.
"From who?" Mosley said, repressing the urge to sneer.
"Kill anyone?" Laura asked, still being sweet and nice.
"What? No. Not 'til those cops showed up." He frowned, remembering the fight he'd been in.
"Where am I?" he demanded.
Kenslir stepped back and nodded to Laura. "It's time for you to serve your country, Mr. Mosley."
The vampire looked back and forth between Laura Olson and Mark Kenslir, confusion on his face.
Laura took a small recorder from a nearby cart and turned it on, then placed it in the upper pocket of her labcoat. Then she drew out a small silver-bladed knife.
"Subject has been resurrected without any apparent memory loss or physical impairment," she said loudly. "Test One—a three inch incision with a silver blade over the right pectoral."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As bars went, the Mengele was a rundown dump, even by the most generous of standards. The exterior of the building was falling apart, in need of more repairs than it would take to just build a new structure. Inside, a lack of sufficient light hid rotted floors and walls and tables that even swine wouldn't eat off of.
But the shaven-headed men in the bar didn't care. Cold beer and Nazi flags more than made up for the state of their beloved watering hole.
The door to the bar slowly opened, spilling in bright sunlight that made most of the skinheads in the bar wince. A few of the two dozen men held hands up, shading their eyes to see who was coming in. After all, everyone they knew was already in the Mengele.
The newcomer was tall, just over six feet, with a mop of blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing long basketball shorts and a t-shirt two sizes too large. And he was barefoot.
The blonde, his hair streaked with gray, walked in, letting the rickety door slam shut behind him. He sat on a wobbly stool at the bar and nodded at the bartender, Henry, a bull-necked man the size of a wrestler.
"I think you're in the wrong bar," Henry said. He crossed his arms over his chest, flexing his biceps so the SS and swastika tattoos on them moved. They matched the biker vest he wore on his otherwise bare torso, which was covered in Nazi and motorcycle patches.
"I'm looking for a few good men," the newcomer said in a thick German accent.
Chairs skidded and slid across the rotted floor as the two dozen patrons of the Mengele all stood as one. Three shuffled over to the newcomer, arraying themselves in semi-circle behind him.
"You talk funny," Joey "Adolph" Moreno said, pulling a switchblade from his back pocket. "You a kike?"
The blonde newcomer whirled around suddenly, his movement so fast no one had time to react. He was off the barstool and up against Joey, chest-to-chest before the addled brains of the Mengele's patrons even registered he had begun to move.
The blonde plunged two-inch long canines into Joey's neck, puncturing his carotid artery and sending two streams of blood gushing out.
The nearby skinheads, and Heinrich, jumped and took steps back.
Joey spasmed in the vampire's grip, his eyes rolling up in his head. After just a few seconds, the blood sucker released its hold on Joey and he staggered backwards, eyes glazed over, barely able to stand.
"No, I am not a Jew," the newcomer said. Then his clothes and body exploded, his skin sprouting tan and white fur from every pore, his skeleton stretching and his muscles swelling. In seconds, he had transformed into an überwolf.
Before the skinheads present could send the signal from their brains to their mouths to scream, the überwolf grabbed Joey in its two clawed hands—one around his throat, one in his groin, where Joey's right leg met his body. The monster twisted, then pulled—a sickening sound of shattering bones and wet meat tearing filling the air as he pulled Joey apart.
The überwolf dropped the two pieces of skinhead on the bar floor then turned toward the screaming skinheads still alive.
***
"Colonel! Colonel!" Dr. King called out over the intercom set in the wall beside the chamber's door.
Mark Kenslir looked over at the intercom, fist hovering over the frozen head of Eric Mosley. The head Laura had just poured liquid nitrogen over.
"Just a minute, Doctor," Kenslir said. He smashed his fist down, exploding the frozen head into a fine spray of dust. Laura flinched as the debris hit her.
"Great," she said brushing the debris off her clothes and shaking it out of her hair. "Now I've got dog in my hair."
Kenslir checked his watch, then crossed to the intercom. "We're almost done here, Dr. King—can't this wait?"
"I may have a lead on the our missing überwolves. Both of them."
Kenslir looked to Laura, who shrugged then used a small brush to dust the pieces of Mosley's head off the table, catching them in a dustpan. The blood from his unfrozen stump of a neck had already stopped gushing out, the tissue sealing itself.
"I can't leave just yet. What do you have?" Kenslir said. He cybernetically activated his tactical glasses, switching on the connection to the building's computer and communications network.
"The intense cold Agent Keegan felt," Dr. King said excitedly, his voice broadcast over the small speakers built in the earpieces of the glasses. "I believe it wasn't an effect of the portal, but rather it came from the portal."
Laura was poking at the stump of Mosley's neck, but nothing seemed to be happening. She went back to brushing the table and then the floor, maneuvering the remaining frozen pieces of Mosley's head into the dust pan.
"As you may know," Dr. King continued, "the Reich built a number of submarine bases in Greenland and South America during the war. They also were in the process of constructing bases along the coast of Antarctica."
"You're talking about Highjump," Kenslir said. He watched as Laura poured the frozen granules of vampire head into a plastic baggie then gave him the thumbs up.
"Dead?" Kenslir asked.
"As a doornail," Laura said. "Told you."
Kenslir moved to the end of the surgical table and kicked at a locking lever, releasing a brake. "Go on, Doctor King."
"Yes, Highjump was one of several post-War operations that ferreted out the locations of the Nazi south polar bases so they could be destroyed. Aerial bombardment, I believe."
"And?" Kenslir moved toward the door, Phillips reaching over and activating the lock. The huge door began to swing inward.
"I believe our überwolves are operating from such a polar base. There were documents recovered from Berlin suggesting SS operations were moving Ahnenerbe research to an unidentified polar base in the final days of the war."
Kenslir wheeled Mosley's corpse out of the vault, Laura, Phillips and Hornbeck following him.
"I believe the intense cold confirms the portal device is located at an abandoned polar base," Dr. King concluded.
Kenslir paused at another blast door—the one leading into the Fountain Chamber. "Greenland? Those bases weren't destroyed."
Once the door was open, Kenslir and his companions entered the Fountain Chamber, where Jason Trumball, Doctor Guerrera and Josie Winters were waiting.
"He's dead?" Josie asked, surprised.
Kenslir held up a finger for her to wait.
"I believe they are operating out of Neuschwabenland, in Antarctica," Dr. King said.
"Highjump targeted all the south pole bases, Doctor."
"Yes, I know, but there was a phone call placed to Antarctica from here in Miami just thirty minutes ago. A satellit
e phone call."
Kenslir paused at the edge of the Fountain. "Have we checked to see who made the call?"
"The satellite phone in Antarctica is registered to an Argentinean holding company."
"Good work, Doctor King," Kenslir said. "Have Major Campbell dispatch some Ghost Walkers to all known Nazi base locations in Antarctica. And get me a point of origin for the call here in Miami."
Kenslir severed the connection and motioned to Laura.
"Good news, everyone—we may have found our Nazis," he said.
Dr. Olson moved to the edge of the water withthe plastic bag holding the frozen dust that used to be Mosley's head.
Kenslir flipped a lever on the surgical table and tilted it, then undid the shackles on the body's wrists and ankles. The body slid off the table, neck stump-first into the water. Laura immediately began pouring in the ice granules from the plastic bag.
"Doesn't this feel all sciency?" she said, grinning.
"Orders, Colonel?" Phillips asked.
"Assemble your team, Chad," Kenslir said, watching as the water in the Fountain began to roil. "Let's do a helicopter deployment."
"Yes, sir," Phillips said, then nodded to Hornbeck. The two men jogged away, out of the chamber.
"Jason?" Kenslir asked turning to Trumball. "You ready?"
Jason looked to Dr. Guerrera, who Kenslir noticed was now avoiding looking at him. "You'll do fine," Dr. Guerrera reassured the young man.
Once Mosley's hand came out of the water, Kenslir grabbed it and hoisted him out—considerably less gentle than he had been with Laura Olson.
"What? Where am I?" the security guard asked. He felt at his head, testing to see if it was intact.
"Sorry, but there's no real time for this," Kenslir said. "This is Jason Trumball, one of our specialists."
Jason extended his hand.
Mosley looked around, trying to take it all in. He felt at his teeth. "I'm cured."
"Of vampirism, at least," Laura said, glancing down at Mosley's exposed groin.
The security guard finally realized he was naked and blushed. Dr. Guerrera handed him a bathrobe. Mosley slipped it on hastily, tying it off at the waist. Then he noticed Jason was still waiting, holding his hand out.
