The Ancient Breed

by David Brookover

  Another ominous growl.

  This time, it seemed very close. Too close. He sprinted for the stairway without glancing over his shoulder. A gargantuan shadow raced ahead of him and absorbed his fleeing shadow.

  Suddenly, he felt three painful explosions blister his back. His feet slipped and he crashed to the concrete floor, screaming and writhing like a wounded insect in the descending shadow of a shoe. A horrible creature bent over him, its eyes flooded with murderous, blind rage. Its glimmering, gray chest rose and fell in a frenzied rhythm as its thick, knotted muscles tightened. Foam leaked from the corners of its menacing mouth.

  Faster than a blink, the creature dropped onto the man and ripped his bones from their joints as if dismembering a fried chicken. Blood, cartilage, and tendons were splattered on the walls, equipment, and machinery; the man’s gruesome remains speckled the floor in great, gelatinous chunks. In a final act of fury, it brought its foot down hard upon the man’s head, expelling reddish-gray ooze and skull splinters in every direction.

  A single chime pinged beside the elevator doors, followed by the squealing clang of the car’s brakes. The creature angrily swung its claws at the elevator for interrupting its mission and then rapidly escaped up the staircase, its weighty tread jarring rust flakes from the old steel risers.

  The hospital maintenance employees spilled out of the crowded elevator, anxiously awaiting their 5:00 p.m. quitting time. Seconds later, the first frantic screams erupted and echoed eerily throughout the basement.

  Flashing blue and white lights surrounded the VA Medical Center in the rainy, late afternoon gloom. Tampa police detectives, members of a T.P.D. SWAT team, and the Hillsborough County medical examiner and his forensic team occupied the east side of the hospital basement and were examining the grisly remains of the unidentified victim. The aggressive reporters and photographers were corralled in the upstairs lobby, where they frantically attempted to fish for details about the murder from hospital employees. Some resorted to bribery.

  Two figures suddenly appeared in the dim shadows behind the hospital’s power generators and went unnoticed by the milling officials.

  “Where are we, Grandfather?” Crow asked, trying to understand why the dark, dank place was swarming with cops.

  “I do not know this place,” he replied quietly.

  Crow crept closer to the frenzied commotion and was able to read the patch on the closest cop’s sleeve. He returned to Grandfather.

  “We’re in Tampa,” he said.

  “The VA Medical Center,” Grandfather added, gesturing toward a brass identification plate on the generator.

  “I wonder what’s going on?”

  He pointed toward the brilliantly lit crime scene. “One of the kidnappers.”

  Crow surveyed the grisly mess painting the walls and equipment. “Looks like he bit the dust.”

  Grandfather nodded gravely. “The great evil is responsible for that man’s death, or we wouldn’t be here.”

  “Man, what a mess.” Crow rubbed his nose. “And the stench is sickening.”

  “Let’s listen and watch.”

  One of the cops hurried down the staircase. “Lieutenant Cartwright, come over here and take a look.”

  A stocky black man joined the cop. “Well, what is it?”

  The cop stooped and traced something on the floor. Crow couldn’t quite identify it from their position, but he could easily eavesdrop on their conversation.

  “Recognize these footprints?”

  Lieutenant Cartwright shook his head. “Should I, Poe?”

  “They were plastered all over the television yesterday.”

  The lieutenant snapped his fingers. “Of course! These are identical to the footprints discovered at that construction site near Fort Myers.”

  “Yeah, and the murderer used the same M.O. on this poor schmuck, according to the bulletins we received describing the two murders down there the other night.”

  “Slaughter,” the lieutenant said sullenly. “What in God’s name is this damned thing, anyway?” His comment was taken for a rhetorical question, because no one within earshot knew the answer.

  “Hey, you!” Another cop stared directly at Crow and Grandfather. “How’d you two get past security upstairs?” He strode toward them.

  Crow reached for his identification, but Grandfather held his arm. “We don’t have time to fool with the police. It would waste too much precious time.”

  Before Crow could respond, the pair vanished.

  “Hey, where’d they go?” the cop shouted.

  Lieutenant Cartwright came running. “Has someone infiltrated the basement?”

  “Yeah, I saw two of them, but then they just . . . vanished. Poof! Here one second, gone the next.”

  “Are you feeling all right, Detective Sommers?”

  “Hey, I swear I saw them, Lieutenant. Honest, I’m not cracking up,” he responded defensively.

  Cartwright patted the detective’s shoulder. “Take a fifteen-minute break upstairs, Sommers. Get yourself something to eat.”

  “But, Lieutenant, I . . .”

  “That’s an order, Detective!” he barked and turned away.

  With her left wrist shackled to the tarnished brass bedpost, Blossom sat on the edge of the bed and tried to watch the nineteen-inch television on the dresser. The weak signal from the broken rabbit-ear antenna made the picture snowy. Earlier, Jay had forced her to clean Lonny’s blood from the bedroom walls and floor, and she found it to be the most disgusting chore she’d ever done. But at least now, most of the foul smell was gone. She’d drenched the small area with Lysol spray, since it was obvious that she would be spending a lot of time in that dingy bedroom.

  The courtroom reality show was suddenly preempted by a special, local news report. Jay rushed into the bedroom and sat beside her on the bed.

  “What’s going on?” he pressed.

  “They haven’t said yet.”

  A close-up of the news anchor filled the screen. His usually chiseled confidence appeared battered.

  “Good afternoon,” he began. “We’ve interrupted your regularly scheduled program to bring you a special news bulletin. Just a short while ago at the VA Medical Center, an unidentified man was brutally murdered. Although the police aren’t saying anything yet, Channel 10 is the first station to broadcast eyewitness accounts of this terrible tragedy. Let’s go to Jill Stevens live at the scene. Jill?”

  The station cut to a medium-range shot of a gaunt, somber woman in her late thirties. The rain drummed off the red-striped umbrella protecting her flawless, mannequin looks from the inclement weather.

  “Jim, we have a nightmare out here. After interviewing the folks who first discovered the victim’s gruesome remains, it’s safe to say that the crime scene looked like something from a slasher movie. Although none of the witnesses wished to appear on camera, they were happy to speak with me off camera. Here’s what some of these horrified witnesses had to say.”

  The station switched to prerecorded video of Jill addressing individuals who remained out of the picture.

  “Sir, can you tell us what you saw when you stepped out of the basement elevator this afternoon?”

  “Well, we’d just finished our, uh, weekly meeting upstairs, and we took the elevator down to the, uh, basement to get our carts and supplies so we could finish up for the day.” The unseen male voice was nervous and high-pitched. “When the doors opened, we saw the horrible mess immediately. It was, uh, the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Several of us tossed our cookies on the spot from the awful smell. I mean, the guy’s guts and bones were all over the place, like he’d stepped on a land mine or something.”

  “Thank you, sir, for that vivid description.” Jill Stevens feigned a smile, but her complexion was considerably more pallid than it was before the man’s comments.

  Jay flew from the bed, switched off the television, and stomped his feet on the floor. “Damn it all to hell! Son-of-a-fucking-bitch!” He spun on Blossom.
“It’s you! You’re a damn jinx!” He slapped her across the face with the flat of his hand; it left a rosy welt on her right cheek. “First Lonny dead, and now Juan! Now I’ve got to pull this damn thing off by myself.”

  “Jay, listen. You brought me here!” she reminded him.

  He cracked her jaw with his fist, and her head snapped back and crashed against the brass frame. To Blossom, the bedroom light dimmed, and then faded to black as she slumped to her side, unconscious.

  Jay ripped off her clothes like a man possessed, tossed the shredded clothing everywhere, and duct-taped her splayed legs to the footer posts and her free wrist to the headboard. When he finished, he dropped his jeans and raped her.

  After sating his rage and suppressed sexual appetite, Jay returned to the kitchen and examined the various-sized jars on the counter. He cautiously swirled the contents of the smallest beaker and poured the clear liquid into three small metal cylinders. He screwed the caps on tightly, deposited each of them into a separate Federal Express overnight envelope, and sealed them. He snatched the motorcycle keys off the dining room table, placed the envelopes in a plastic grocery bag, and hurried outside into the rain. He sloshed through the muddy puddles as he made his way from the front porch to the ramshackle, single-car garage out back. He cursed Juan’s idiocy for allowing himself to be killed. He had driven their SUV to the hospital where it was useless to Jay. Now he was forced to take the damn motorcycle to the Fed-Ex office that was nine, very wet miles away.

  It never occurred to the irate terrorist that the same murderer who had slaughtered Juan might come after him. Jay simply brushed off Juan’s murder as bad mission execution and nothing else. He was so busy feeling sorry for himself that his normally acute Indian senses failed to detect an approaching evil.

  An evil that was closing in fast.

  17

  L

  isa Anders sat alone at a window table overlooking the stormy ocean. The gale force winds lashed the shoreline palms and whipped the foamy whitecaps from the pounding waves like blowing the heads off frosty, draught beers. The impeccably dressed waiter approached her and once more inquired if she’d like to order, but she deferred, informing him that she would wait another ten minutes for her luncheon date to arrive. The waiter bowed slightly and moved fluently to another table.

  Her eyes drifted apprehensively to the hostess stand for the zillionth time, but this time she breathed a sigh of relief. Nick had finally arrived! She was afraid he wouldn’t show after Neo emphasized that the odds of Nick’s actually making an appearance were between slim and none. But, she stubbornly refused to believe he would reject her invitation and was determined to give it the old college try. She desperately needed his help.

  Lisa studied Nick’s features while the hostess greeted him. He was ruggedly handsome with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. His ash hair was medium length, parted on the left, and somewhat damp and windblown at the moment. He was about six feet tall, had broad, sloping shoulders, and a weekly workout frame. He wore khaki cuffed slacks, a formfitting, dark green polo shirt, and tan leather shoes with no socks. She loved the no-socks look. She was impressed with his attire. It made him appear even more striking than she remembered.

  The hostess escorted Nick to the window table. Lisa took a deep breath and released it slowly.

  “Lisa Anders?” he asked lightly.

  She smiled up at him. “Yes.”

  He extended his hand. “Nick Bellamy.”

  She took his hand and felt tingles rise like bubbles in an effervescent liquid. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nick. I hope you feel the same.”

  “After our conversation this morning, I think I’ll defer judgment until dessert,” he countered with a mischievous grin and nodded down at the chair. “May I?”

  She stifled a laugh. “Please.”

  The waiter materialized at the table and suggested drinks. Nick declined, citing a full night’s work ahead, but he insisted that Lisa try a glass of their best Chablis. She readily agreed, and the waiter spun and hustled away.

  “I was rather – no, make that completely surprised when Neo parked the car outside Vinny’s Italian Steakhouse and dropped the bomb that I had a lunch date with a beautiful archeologist,” he said, breaking the ice.

  “Thank you—although I’d hardly refer to my invitation as a bomb.”

  “Bad choice of words,” he admitted as he scrutinized her appearance. “Have we met before?” he asked earnestly.

  Lisa was slightly taken aback by the unexpected question, but she recovered quickly. “No, I don’t believe so, Nick. I definitely would have remembered you,” she replied demurely.

  “Was that a compliment or a dig?”

  She hesitated. “I think a little of both.”

  “Here I am, sitting with an archeologist for just two minutes, and I’m already using words like dig,” he quipped, but the feeling that he had met her before lingered.

  They laughed quietly as the waiter returned with a sparkling glass of Chablis. She sipped it. “It’s delicious. Thanks for twisting my arm,” she said.

  “I’m good at arm twisting,” he replied.

  “I’m sure you are.”

  “Now, mind telling me exactly why I’m here?”

  “You’re very blunt, Nick.”

  “Not as a rule, but I happen to be extremely busy at the moment.”

  “Do you need to go?” she asked, disappointment staining her words.

  “No. At least not for the moment. But like a doctor, I’m on call twenty-four-seven,” he replied, “which brings me back to my original question.”

  “Sorry.” Her light expression darkened. “I’m worried about Blossom Smith. Are you up-to-date on her investigation?”

  “It’s near the top of my current hit parade. Please continue.”

  “I’m seriously afraid that the . . .”

  “Demon?”

  She eyed him quizzically. “How did you know?”

  “You said so. And besides, I saw the TV news report about the construction site and figured it had to be the one you were investigating.”

  She grinned sheepishly. “Of course. How stupid of me. I have good reason to believe that the demon guardian will get to Blossom before we do. So, I want you to come with me to the construction site tomorrow and take a look around,” she explained.

  “Any particular reason why?”

  “To see if we can find a clue that might show us how to stop the demon.”

  The waiter appeared. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Are you?” he asked Lisa.

  “Sure. I’ll have Vinny’s Cobb Salad with balsamic dressing on the side, please.”

  “And you, sir?” the waiter asked.

  “Steak sandwich, medium, with the seasoned potato wedges and – let me see – is the asparagus tender?”

  “Yes sir. Very much so.”

  “Good. I’ll try that.”

  “Very good, sir.” The waiter melted away into the bustle of the restaurant.

  Nick placed the red cloth napkin on his lap. “So where were we? Oh yes, you and I take a trip to Boneland tomorrow morning.”

  “Well?” Lisa asked hopefully.

  “No can do.”

  Her face was drawn with disappointment.

  Nick raised his hand. “Hold on, Lisa. I didn’t say I wasn’t going. I just can’t go with you tomorrow.” He paused. “But I can make the trip tonight.”

  Lisa slid her hand over his and squeezed. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. You made your case over the phone earlier, and I bought into it during my flight down here,” he explicated. “Now, I have one question.”

  Her freckled complexion was rosy with exhilaration. “Anything.”

  “You mentioned the weird bones found at the site, and you explained that in all probability the guardian killed and feasted on the little mutants. Correct?”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what happened, yes.”

  “Then I wond
er why that guardian didn’t eat those two demolition guys last night? From the bulletins I received earlier, aside from being pulled apart, the victims weren’t eaten,” Nick said, trying to learn anything about the demon’s behavior that might help them buy time for Blossom.

  Even when Lisa’s brows furrowed, she still looked terrific. Nick silently rebuked himself for noticing. He was already spoken for, and that was that. When the love of his life, Gabriella, returned, she was going to become his wife, and no sexy archeologist was about to change that. But still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “You know, Nick, I just don’t have an answer,” she lamented.

  “Nothing in that research article that you mentioned earlier?”

  She bristled. “Oh, the one, according to you, that I didn’t really read?”

  He remained calm. “Yes.”

  “Shouldn’t you have asked me what type of magical spell I could cast to purge the demon from this world? You know, my being a witch and all.”

  “That did cross my mind,” Nick responded solemnly, but watching her respond to his accusation inspired belief, despite what his gut instincts suggested. “I’m sorry for that witch crack this morning.”

  Her mood softened some. “Apology accepted.”

  Nick spied the waiter directing a server toward their table. “One quick question. What prompted you to tell me that I possessed special gifts?”

  Lisa maintained eye contact without blinking. “I read about how you captured the Creeper assassin and shut down Senator Danforth’s bid for the presidency and his horrible plot to nuke the human race into oblivion,” she replied evenly.

  Their food arrived. Nick’s open-faced steak sandwich was properly garnished and piping hot. Lisa’s salad was beautifully arranged and large enough to feed four diners.

  “It so happens that that information wasn’t in the news,” he pressed.