Department 19 d1-1

by William Hill

  Larissa lunged forward and sank her hand into the chest of the vampire nearest her, who was staring with a look of incomprehension at the fallen cross. The woman screamed as fingernails tore through her skin and found her heart. Then Larissa clenched her fist, and the organ exploded. A moment later, the rest of the woman erupted, and Larissa moved forward, a snarling, blood-soaked angel of death. The other three vampires who had backed her against the wall turned and fled, leaping across the room and disappearing through the broken window.

  The rest of Alexandru’s followers went after them. Frankenstein and the operator each T-Boned one of the fleeing vampires, smashing them out of midair with the screeching projectiles. They were hauled back to the ground and exploded on impact, sending fresh blood running across the stone floor.

  Kate saw her chance and sank her teeth into the skeletal vampire’s arm. She shook her head like a terrier, then pulled hard. A chunk of meat tore out of the vampire’s arm, and he screamed in pain. His fingernail left her neck, and she ducked out of his grip, spit out the chunk of meat, and turned to face him. The vampire looked up at her with red eyes, and she plunged the stake into his chest, driving him back against the wall. He burst in a great explosion of blood, soaking her from head to toe, but Kate didn’t flinch. Instead she turned back to the center of the hall, saw the blood-soaked remnants of the Blacklight team walking toward each other, and ran to join them.

  As his friends routed the remainder of Alexandru’s followers, Jamie walked slowly across the room to the fallen vampire. His mother took a tentative step toward him, but he held up a hand.

  “Stay where you are, Mom,” he called. “It’s not over yet.” He crossed the stone floor of the hall and knelt down next to Alexandru.

  The vampire’s face was destroyed; one of his eyes was missing, his mouth opened and closed silently, and blood was pumping steadily from the back of his head, running freely across the ground. The severed arm lay beside Jamie, and he pushed it away, disgusted. Then he looked at Alexandru’s chest and smiled at what he saw.

  The skin had been torn away, and the ribcage had been shattered to pieces. Alexandru’s insides lay open to the cold air of the monastery, and Jamie could see the slowly beating red bulb of the ancient vampire’s heart. He reached down to his belt and pulled his stake from its loop.

  “Too… late.”

  Jamie looked round, and saw Alexandru’s remaining eye looking at him. The vampire’s mouth was twisted into a ghoulish approximation of a smile, and he was trying to speak again. Jamie leaned down next to the swollen, broken mouth and listened.

  “Too… late,” Alexandru said again and laughed, a tiny grunt that was full of pain. “ He rises. And everyone you love… will die.”

  Jamie looked down at the old vampire, then yawned, extravagantly, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When he had finished, he smiled down at Alexandru, who was looking at Jamie with dying outrage on his face.

  Then Jamie raised the stake above his head, held it for a long moment, and hammered it into the vampire’s beating heart.

  A column of blue fire shot out of the organ as Jamie’s stake pierced it. The chapel hall shook as a tremor thudded through it, then what was left of Alexandru exploded in a series of deafening thunderclaps, blood thudding into the air in great bursts that splashed across Jamie and onto the stone floor around him.

  Jamie stared for a long moment, then closed his eyes and slumped to his knees. Frankenstein, Larissa, and the rest of the Blacklight team ran toward him, but before they were even halfway there, Marie Carpenter leapt down from the platform, slid to the blood-soaked floor, and wrapped her arms around her son.

  47

  THE HUMAN HEART IS A FRAGILE THING

  Six figures made their way slowly out of the Lindisfarne monastery, as the first glow of the imminent dawn began to creep over the horizon to the east. Jamie and Frankenstein had each placed an arm under Marie Carpenter’s shoulders and were helping her across the thick grass that covered the cliff tops. Kate and Larissa walked side by side, a comfortable silence between them. The Blacklight operator brought up the rear, his weapon still set against his shoulder, his visor sweeping slowly from left to right.

  On the headland above the monastery stood a Blacklight helicopter, its angular shape a dark silhouette against the coming dawn. The pilot who had delivered Frankenstein and the two operators to Lindisfarne was standing at the cockpit door, his MP5 drawn. He lowered it as they approached, and a smile broke across his face.

  Frankenstein went to the man, and they embraced, laughter echoing in the predawn air, the simple laughter of men who are glad to be alive. Jamie let go of his mother, reluctantly, and shrugged his weapons and body armor to the grass. He stood up and stretched his arms above his head; he felt lighter than he had at any point since his father had died. Then Larissa pressed herself against him and kissed him. He hesitated for a moment, knowing his mother and his friends were watching, but then he gave in, and kissed her back. They broke the embrace, and Jamie flushed a deep red, looking around at the grinning faces of the survivors.

  The operator lifted his helmet and rotated his head, his neck creaking as the muscles relaxed. His face was pale, but his eyes were alive with adrenaline, and he smiled at Jamie. The teenager’s heart leapt as he found himself looking into a familiar face.

  “Terry?” he said, a smile creeping over his face.

  The Blacklight instructor grinned, then stepped forward and wrapped Jamie up in a crushing hug. “You did it,” he whispered into the teenager’s ear. “You really did it.”

  He released his grip, and Jamie stared at him, overcome. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “Frankenstein told me you were in trouble,” Terry replied. “And I don’t get many chances to put on the old uniform.”

  He smiled warmly at Jamie, but the teenager’s mind was already elsewhere.

  Frankenstein.

  Jamie looked over at the monster and was about to ask him for a word in private when a voice shouted his name. It was Kate who called out, and when he turned toward her, panic spilled through him like ice. She was kneeling on the ground beside his mother, who was convulsing.

  He ran to her, sliding to the ground next to Kate. He grabbed his mother’s shoulders and tried to slow her thrashing. Her head was whipping from side to side, her long hair fanning out around her, her arms and legs drumming the grass.

  “What happened?” yelled Jamie.

  Kate looked at him, a frightened expression on her face.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “She just fell down. I was holding her arm, and she just fell down.”

  Frankenstein, Larissa, Terry, and the pilot were suddenly next to him, helping him hold his mother, demanding to know what had happened. Then Marie’s head suddenly jerked up, and she looked round at them with crimson eyes.

  Jamie’s heart stopped, as Kate screamed and Larissa gasped in shock.

  Oh, no. Oh, please no. Not this. Not after I’ve got her back. Please, not this.

  “I’m sorry!” screamed Marie. “I’m so sorry, Jamie! I’m sorry!”

  There was movement as the pilot fumbled the stake from his belt. Without thinking, Jamie pulled his Glock pistol from its holster and leveled it at the man’s head. For a second, no one moved, until Jamie found his voice.

  “Get some blood from the medical pack in the helicopter,” he said. “Do it now.”

  The pilot backed away, his eyes locked on the barrel of Jamie’s gun, and then turned and ran to the helicopter. He returned less than a minute later, holding a plastic pouch of O-negative blood.

  Jamie snatched it out of his hands, tore it open, and pressed the opening to his mother’s mouth, as if he was feeding a baby. Her head was twisting slowly from side to side, her eyes were closed, and she was moaning gently, but her mouth latched on to the plastic nozzle.

  He turned away as his mother drank the blood.

  He couldn’t w
atch her do it, couldn’t bear to see her reduced to this. When the pouch was empty, he cast it aside and looked down at her. She was staring up at him with the pale green eyes he recognized, a look of terrible, painful shame on her face. He reached toward her, but she scrambled away from him, pushing the restraining hands from her body, and jumped to her feet. He tried to go to her again, his arms outstretched, ready to hug her, ready to let her know that he didn’t care what had happened to her, she was still his mother and he still loved her. But she turned her back on him.

  “I don’t want you to see me like this,” she whispered. “I’m revolting.”

  “You’re my mom,” said Jamie.

  He saw her shoulders heave as she began to cry, and he stood there helplessly, without the slightest idea of what to do. He looked around at Frankenstein, who was watching Marie with a solemn expression on his face. The monster caught his eyes, but he said nothing. Larissa stood with her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and wet. In the end, it was Kate who moved.

  The teenage girl stepped slowly over to Jamie’s mother and placed an arm carefully around her waist. She crouched and leaned around so she could see her tear-stained face and spoke to her in a low voice.

  “Mrs. Carpenter?” she said. “My name’s Kate. I lived here on Lindisfarne until Alexandru and the others came. I’d probably be dead if your son hadn’t rescued me.”

  Jamie felt his heart swell with gratitude as he heard a small laugh of pride escape from his mother’s mouth.

  “He’s a good boy,” Marie said, softly. “And you’re a kind girl.”

  “Do you want to go and wait in the helicopter?” asked Kate.

  She nodded, and let herself be led slowly to the chopper. She kept herself turned away from Jamie and the other survivors as she moved, then stepped carefully into the black vehicle. Larissa watched them go, a flicker of jealousy pulling at her heart, and she chastised herself for it.

  Jamie stared after his mother, his exhausted mind unable to comprehend what he had seen.

  A vampire. She’s been turned into a vampire. What does this mean? What’s going to happen to her?

  “We can look after her,” said Frankenstein, as though he could read minds. “At the Loop. We can keep her safe, keep her fed.”

  “Like we did Larissa?” asked Jamie.

  Frankenstein nodded, and the teenager looked at the ground.

  “Why?” he asked. The word came out like a sob. “Why would Alexandru do this?”

  “It’s just one more way to hurt you,” said Frankenstein. “Even though it would never have occurred to him that you might defeat him. I’m sure he intended to tell you before you died.”

  “But she never… she didn’t do anything.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” replied Frankenstein. “To Alexandru that would have only made it sweeter. But he won’t get to do it to anyone else. Because you killed him.”

  A savage smile flickered briefly across Jamie’s face.

  “I did, didn’t I?” he said, quietly. “I killed him.”

  Then he started to cry, and Frankenstein put an arm around him and led him away from the rest of the survivors, who were looking at each other as though no one knew what they were supposed to do next.

  Jamie and the monster stood near the edge of the cliff, the waves roaring and crashing far beneath them. Frankenstein held Jamie until his tears came to a heaving halt.

  “I didn’t shoot,” said Frankenstein, softly. “That night, with your father… I didn’t fire. You have to believe me.”

  “I do,” said Jamie. “I should have believed in you all along, like my father and my grandfather did. Instead I doubted you, and it almost cost me and my mother our lives.”

  “I was there that night,” said Frankenstein. “But I went there to try and bring him in alive. I didn’t want what happened to happen.”

  “I believe you,” said Jamie.

  Then there was a snarl from a clump of bushes, and the second of Alexandru’s werewolves launched itself at Jamie from the undergrowth.

  Frankenstein didn’t even hesitate.

  He shoved Jamie to the ground and caught the snarling, snapping wolf out of the air, holding it at arm’s length, keeping the razor-sharp teeth away from his throat. Jamie yelled for help and heard the thud of footsteps as the survivors grabbed their weapons and ran toward them.

  But it was too late.

  The two huge creatures staggered back and forth along the lip of the cliffs, the wolf on its curved hind legs, its yellow eyes gleaming in the pink light of the horizon, the monster straining to stay upright, forcing the wolf’s head back and up. Then blood flew in the air as the wolf’s teeth closed over Frankenstein’s fingers, severing one completely and sending blood running down the monster’s arm. He didn’t make a sound; he just gritted his teeth, and bore down on the squirming creature in his grip, forcing it backward, toward the edge. They teetered there, seemingly defying gravity, then the wolf lunged and snapped its frothing jaws shut on the monster’s neck. This time Frankenstein did make a sound, a deep rumbling bellow that shook the ground beneath Jamie’s feet. The werewolf roared through its teeth, a sound of wicked triumph, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, the two creatures fell backward over the lip of the cliff, and disappeared from view.

  “No!” screamed Jamie. He ran to the edge and looked down at the crashing white foam that sprayed into the air a hundred feet below him.

  There was no sign of either the wolf or the monster.

  Frankenstein was gone.

  He craned his head forward, stretching his neck muscles, his arms reaching out behind him for balance, trying to get a better view, hoping to see his friend, to see some sign of the man who had saved his life-again.

  The slick grass at the cliff’s edge moved beneath his feet, and he felt his center of balance pitch forward. He looked out at the horizon, at the pink light blooming above it, and realized he was going to fall. The ground slid away beneath him, sods of earth and clumps of grass tumbling down the sheer rock wall, and he felt himself tumble forward. Then a hand grabbed the back of his collar, lifted him into the air, and pulled him back onto solid ground.

  Jamie fell to his knees, and looked up into Larissa’s pale, beautiful face. She knelt down in front of him and put her arms around him. He embraced her and laid his head on her shoulder, overcome with more grief than any one person should ever have to bear.

  They stayed that way for a long time.

  Sometime later, Jamie could not have guessed how long, a gentle rumble began to vibrate through the ground beneath him. He raised his head from Larissa’s shoulder and looked out across the sea. A speck of black was approaching on the horizon; as he watched, it grew larger and larger, the rumbling increasing. Less than a minute later, Jamie got his first look at the dark shape that he had seen beneath the hangar on the day he arrived at the Department 19 Base.

  The Mina II blasted above the surface of the North Sea, raising two columns of white water a hundred feet high in its wake. It decelerated as it approached the wall of cliffs, Cal Holmwood firing its vertical thrusters and pulling the control stick backward, guiding the supersonic jet up and over the lip. The thrust from the powerful engines swirled dust into the air and sent the survivors running for the cover of the helicopter, with the exception of Jamie and Larissa, who held each other at the edge of the cliff and watched the plane slow to a halt, then begin to descend.

  The Mina II was a huge black triangle that seemed to hang in the sky in front of them. Its rear edge was longer than its sides, making the wings curved as they reached their tips, and its underside was absolutely flat, painted a bright, featureless white. As the jet lowered itself toward the ground, Jamie saw the small bubble of the cockpit appear above the sharp nose, followed by the thick, angular fuselage. Then three sets of landing gear slid smoothly out of the plane’s belly, and the Mina II was on the ground. A wide ramp descended, and then Admiral Seward was running down it, followed by a small group of black-clad
operators.

  “B Unit, secure the monastery,” yelled the director.

  Four of the operators split away from the group, their weapons drawn, and ran toward the ancient stone building. Seward scanned the group of survivors, until his eyes rested on Jamie, and he ran to him.

  Over the shoulder of the oncoming admiral, Jamie saw one of the operators lift his helmet to reveal Paul Turner’s glacial face. Then he saw something that qualified as one of the most unexpected sights of this strangest of days; he saw the major smile at him.

  “Morris,” said Seward, slowing to a halt in front of Jamie and Larissa, and looking at the teenager with an expression of immense regret on his face. “It was Morris who betrayed us. I knew it as soon as I discovered he had accessed the codes for the Russian vaults. It was Morris. Not your father. I’m so sorry.”

  Jamie looked at him, his expression unreadable.

  “Where’s Alexandru?” asked Seward. “Did he escape?”

  The teenager shook his head. “I killed him.”

  Seward paused and looked carefully at Jamie, admiration blooming on his face. “You killed him?”

  Jamie nodded.

  “Where’s your mother?” asked Seward, looking around. “And Colonel Frankenstein? I don’t see them.”

  Jamie looked at him, his face streaked with tears, and didn’t answer.

  48

  THE END OF THE TUNNEL

  “ You’re not putting my mother in a cell,” said Jamie. They were standing in the Ops Room-Jamie, Marie, Admiral Seward, Larissa, Kate, Paul Turner, and Terry.

  Jamie’s heart was being pulled in what felt like a hundred directions. The euphoria of destroying Alexandru and rescuing his mother was tempered by the loss of Frankenstein and the discovery of his mother’s fate; Alexandru’s last cruel, spiteful attack on the Carpenter family. Pride and guilt and terrible, empty loss fought for control of his exhausted mind and body, and then Admiral Seward had pulled his radio from his belt and asked the person on the other end to prepare a cell for an immediate occupant.