“Commander Reese, I’m Private White. I’ve been assigned to escort you to Base Camp Bondsteel. Colonel Antol sends his regards and regrets he could not meet you personally,” he said in an obviously memorized greeting.
“Nice to meet you, Private White,” Reese said as he returned the man’s salute. “Shall we get started? I’m sure we have a bit of a ride ahead of us.”
“Yes, sir, about two hours,” he said as he grabbed the commander’s bag. “This way, sir.”
Outside of the airport the sun shone, but the air was cool. It felt refreshing to Reese after sitting on the airplane for almost twelve hours. The private placed his bag in the back of the military vehicle and they were quickly on their way.
“First time in this area?” Private White asked.
“Yes,” Reese answered. “How long have you been here?”
“About seven months,” replied the private. “Are you here to be an observer?”
Reese remembered that this whole affair was supposed to be kept quiet. His driver had been dispatched from Camp Bondsteel to pick him up and bring him to the base camp—that was probably the full extent of what the driver knew. The question offered an extremely plausible reason for him to be there, and Reese decided to go with it.
“Yes,” he answered. “I’m an observer for SOCOM. They are conducting a test of new logistical procedures in the field. They want me to check their effectiveness.”
“Oh. I thought you might...well...be here for something else.”
“Like what?” Reese asked. He got the sense that the private was not just making small talk. He thought the young man was fishing for some information. Apparently he had something on his mind. “Is there anything interesting going on?”
“I just heard that there are some rumors going around the camp about some weird murders.”
“Weird?” Reese asked, trying to hide his interest. News travels fast.
“Some of the guys have heard talk about people being killed by some kind of creatures. I actually heard the term vampires being thrown around. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”
“Creatures? Vampires?” Reese asked, trying his best to sound amusing.
“Yes, sir. I don’t believe it though. This whole country is so old...the locals have all kinds of stories about strange beings.”
“What kind of stories?”
“Werewolves, vampires...you know, like the kind from the movies. Anything that can’t be explained is allocated to the monsters.”
“Really?” Reese asked. He was surprised at the private’s assertion about the unexplained—he was quite correct in his observation. “Has anyone actually seen one of these creatures?”
“I don’t think so. I think the rumor got started when some civilian bodies were brought in to the hospital. They say the bodies were drained of all their blood.”
“Did anyone see these bodies?” Reese asked. There would probably not be any better way to determine how much was known about what was happening then the traditional military rumor mill. Reese decided to milk it while the opportunity presented itself.
“They wouldn’t let anyone near the hospital,” the private said, the disappointment evident in his voice.
“What else?” Reese probed.
“That’s about it, sir. It seems as soon as the rumor got out, it fizzled.”
Reese thought that whether or not there was any truth to this scenario he had been sent to investigate, the small leak of information that had occurred was not cause for major alarm. However, the rumors needed to be stopped.
“Maybe they were concerned about the bodies possibly having some sort of infectious disease,” Reese offered. “They do have a problem here with tuberculosis. It was probably an imposed quarantine to just make sure everyone would be safe in the event the bodies had TB. Doesn’t that sound more reasonable?”
“Yes, sir, I suppose.”
“I’m glad to hear that you are a reasonable person, Private White,” Reese said, thinking about how he could use this opportunity to stop the story from spreading any further. He had seen what could happen. A few soldiers write letters home to their parents or spouses and before long, letters and phone calls assail congressmen and women asking for information, or worse, investigations. If relatives don’t get satisfactory answers, they almost always go to the press and claim the military is hiding something. Then journalists start crawling out of the woodwork, looking for confirmation of the stories.
“You might want to be careful who you tell about these so-called creatures. I would hate to think that you would spread rumors about such ridiculous things. You might want to let some of the other guys know that telling stories like that can get them into trouble.”
“Trouble?”
“Spreading rumors and scaring everyone. It’s bad for morale. People get upset and they can’t work. That’s dangerous here. You don’t want your buddy looking for creatures when he or she is supposed to be watching your back, do you?”
“No, sir. I guess I never thought about it that way.”
Reese thought that the private’s voice reflected the change he wanted; a more concerned attitude that he might get into trouble.
“You might want to let your friends know.”
“Yes, sir. I definitely will.”
Reese smiled and let the issue rest.
Chapter Eleven
Reese decided to use the rest of the time of his trip to base camp to familiarize himself with the area. The private had maps in the vehicle and Reese used them to plot where the incidents had occurred as mentioned in the reports. He asked several questions about the surrounding area and in that respect, the young private was quite useful. Before being assigned as the daily run driver to the airport, he had made several patrols in the outlying areas. He described the ruins in fair detail and Reese marked the map as he tried to formulate what the region looked like.
Reese was still unable to relinquish the words that General Stone had used in his note, use of such creatures as a military assets. Did he actually believe they existed? Even he had a hard time believing it could be true. But was the general actually considering the possibilities of controlling them and using them in the military?
Reese had formulated his own opinions that history was full of myths that were nothing more than just fabricated stories or exaggerations. But he also believed that some of them held some parts of truth. If some form of creatures existed during those earlier periods, and if they lived then, why couldn’t they live today? But if they did, why had they not been discovered?
Further, if creatures existed as those that had been chronicled through history, how would one even go about trying to control them? No one else had been able to. Why or how could they be controlled now? Supposedly, these creatures were fast, strong, intelligent and virtually indestructible. They had survived for hundreds of years, undetectable and unnoticed…
Realization smacked Reese with the force of a baseball bat to the face.
“That’s it!” he shouted.
“Sir?” The private asked. “I don’t understand? What’s it?”
“Oh...nothing. Sorry,” Reese said. “I…just drifted off for a moment and thought I was somewhere else. Jet lag, I guess.”
The private looked at him strangely for a second or two, then returned his gaze to the road ahead of him.
Reese smiled. It was so damn obvious that it scared him; the perfect soldier was what the general wanted. A stealth team of these creatures could penetrate any stronghold undetected. Accomplish any mission imaginable. Become the ultimate remorseless killing machine. And all Stone would have to do is point them in the right direction and let them at it.
Reese didn’t like this line of thinking. He may have been handed the dream of a lifetime if these creatures actually existed, and here he was wondering about the moralistic implications of using creatures as killing machine to do the military’s covert work. If they existed, weren’t they killers already? Reese imagined the creatures sucking
the blood out of their victims, and then killing them unmercifully—was there really a difference?
“Sir, are you all right? You look kind of pale?” the private asked.
“Yes,” Reese answered, glancing at the young private as he struggled to control his stomach. “It’s just a combination of the jet lag and this bumpy road.”
“Yes, sir, it was probably something you ate,” the private said. “The food on those Air Force planes will kill you. I remember one time when I was flying home for leave around the holidays and…”
Reese didn’t hear the private finish his sentence as he leaned out the window and vomited.
Chapter Twelve
Reese arrived at Camp Bondsteel, which was situated near the city of Urosevic, as darkness captured the entire region. Massive floodlights lit the camp and its perimeter.
Private White drove Reese to the base commander’s office. As Reese entered the building, he was met by a staff sergeant who led him to a conference room. Stepping into the room, he saw three people were already there and apparently having some kind of meeting. There was an army colonel who Reese immediately assumed was Colonel Antol, the base commander. The other two he didn’t know.
“Commander, glad to see you made it,” Colonel Antol said as he rose from his chair and offered Reese his hand.
“Thank you, sir.” Reese said.
Colonel Antol was a fit-looking black man. He smiled warmly, but appeared haggard, as if sleep had eluded him for quite some time. His shaved head glistened with sweat in the bright fluorescent light even though the temperature in the room was cool. Reese knew the colonel was under a lot of stress just running the base camp under normal circumstances, but now with this added strain, it showed in his physical appearance.
“Let me make introductions,” the colonel said, as he led Reese toward the other people in the conference room.
The first person was a fellow Naval officer who wore the trident emblem above his left pocket indicating he was a Navy SEAL. He was about six feet tall and a solid two hundred pounds. His blond hair was the traditional short length and a scar ran along his left cheek.
“Commander John Reese, this is Lieutenant Mark Johnson, SEAL Team Two commander.”
“Sir,” Johnson said.
Reese felt the iron grip of the man as they shook hands. SEAL Team Two was one of the teams that he provided logistical support for back on the base in Little Creek. He recognized the man’s name, but had never met him before.
“Pleased to meet you,” Reese said. “Long way from home.”
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said.
They moved to the next man. He was a sharp contrast to the physically fit Lieutenant Johnson. His body was short and stocky in size, his hair completely gray, but his face had that favorite uncle look to it.
“This is Major Sam Barkley, the medical officer,” Antol said.
“Commander,” the major said as he offered Reese his hand. “Welcome to Kosovo.”
“Thanks...I think,” Reese said as he smiled at the man. Reese thought instantly that he would get along with this man because of his warm disposition.
“There are three other people that are involved. Two are in this building,” said the colonel. “But I thought it would be better to talk among ourselves first. The others are a Sergeant Estefan, who was a witness to the event, who is still in an incoherent state in the hospital. The second is a Corporal Brosnev, who you’ll soon meet. He is the interpreter for the third person, the civilian, Idriz Laupki.”
Colonel Antol sat down, indicating for the rest of them to do the same.
“Gentlemen, nothing said here tonight will be discussed outside the confines of this room. Is that understood?”
Everyone nodded.
“Commander Reese, General Stone has asked that you lead the investigation and that myself and staff provide any assistance that you may require.”
Reese heard a tone he did not like from the colonel, who had been congenial up to this point. He knew it would be an awkward arrangement to work in if he was in charge instead of the colonel. It would quickly become counterproductive and precious time could be lost.
“Sir,” Reese interrupted, “forgive me for correcting your statement, but I was told that I would be top advisor, not in charge of the operation. I am to provide recommendations on how to conduct the investigation and recommend action to be taken. You will have the ultimate say on what goes.”
Reese knew it wouldn’t matter either way; he would explain it all to Commander Scott at SOCOM and have him smooth it over so that everyone would be happy and cooperate.
“Must have been some miscommunication on my people’s part,” the colonel said, as his tone became less defensive. “How do you recommend we proceed?”
“So far I’ve just studied the reports. Is there any information to add at this point?”
“No. There hasn’t been any change in the condition of the sergeant. We were not authorized to run a reconnaissance mission until you arrived.”
“I understand your concern about scouting the site, but I would suggest to not do so until I have researched some things and gone over some...special tactics that might be required with Lieutenant Johnson. I would like to interview the civilian first. I have questions I need answered before I can recommend the next course of action.”
“Okay, Commander, talk to the civilian,” Antol said. “We’ll meet later when you’re ready to discuss your next move.”
Reese thought they had finished for now, but noticed Antol still appeared to have one more question for him. He hesitated on getting up from the table.
After a few moments of awkward silence, he spoke.
“Commander, we’re all intelligent people here,” Antol said as he swept the room with his hand. “What does the General think is going on here? I know what it looks like but...come on now, creatures that kill people and suck their blood? Vampires, for God sakes—does he really believe they exist?”
Silence settled as they waited for Reese’s response. But he said nothing, suspecting the colonel wasn’t finished speaking. It was better to let him air out all his grievances now.
“It’s just local folklore,” Antol continued. “This country’s history is loaded with stories such as these. You know that probably better than anyone in this room does. It was just some damn rebels that killed the civilian’s children, then Captain Block got involved and he was killed. Lieutenant Johnson and his SEAL team can go in there and route the bastards out in an hour. But I can’t send them because General Stone wants you to look at it first.”
“Colonel, I don’t know what we’re dealing with here. I hope you’re right and you can send in the SEALs to take care of it,” Reese paused, “because the other possibility scares the living hell out of me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Idriz Laupki
Idriz Laupki tossed and turned on the military cot. He dreamt, remembering when he was seven years old, the youngest son of Alexi and Lipska...
He watched the commotion in his home’s kitchen as his parents and grandparents added ingredients into a large pot on the stove. The chaotic frenzy in which they worked scared the little boy as he watched them move with an intense nervous purpose. He was worried that something had happened, but he had not been told anything, nor had he asked.
Children in the village learned to accept responsibility at an early age. They were not to chase after their mother or father asking what they were doing or what has happened. They were taught to keep their mouth shut and to stay out of the way. Idriz knew something bad had happened. He could see that the people were scared. As farmers, they were always concerned about weather, crops and their livestock. But he had never seen them as frightened as they were now.
He had heard that several cattle had been found dead with mysterious puncture wounds on their necks. His grandparents were summoned by the village elder. When they arrived, Idriz saw that they had brought an old book. It looked very old because the bin
ding appeared to be crumbling at the touch. The pages were very yellow, almost brown. The condition of the book reminded him of his grandparents; in many ways, they were alike. Their skin was old and rough and looked as if it were ready to crumble and fall off their bones. The book was consulted by the village elder and his grandparents. Soon after they spoke, they began to start cooking something in his home.
They cooked a dark liquid in a large pot. Its smell reminded Idriz of a dead animal that lay rotting in the fields. But the smell was not the worst of it. He’d seen some of the ingredients that went into the strange brew. The cattle owner brought the clear large jug. The liquid inside was a scarlet red. Idriz knew that it had to contain blood. When it was poured out of the bottle, its terrible odor had a coppery scent.
His family said prayers he had never heard before as they added the ingredients into the pot and stirred. At some point of agreement between the group, they decided that whatever it was they were making was complete, and poured the mysterious liquid into several jugs. The bottles were loaded onto a wagon and driven off.
With an apparent relief that their task was completed, the four people sat down in exhaustion and drank a combination of whiskey and coffee. Their words were few and soon they went off to rest. During this time, Idriz’s father came outside of their small home to smoke a cigarette before going to sleep.
“There you are, Idriz,” his father said. “I was beginning to wonder where you went.”
“I have been here the whole time. I saw what you were doing,” he said, watching his father as he exhaled a large plume of smoke.
“You have questions, my son?”
“What was it and why was it made? I saw the bottle of blood. It scared me like an awful secret, like something evil.”
“What we have done is not evil,” he said, as he patted Idriz’s head, then ruffled his hair in a playful and loving gesture. “We planned to tell you in a few years about the stories that have been passed down from generation to generation. But I guess now is the proper time since you have seen what we had to do to protect us and our friends.”
Operation Page 6
