Operation: Immortal Servitude From Declassified Files of Team of Darkness

by Tony Ruggiero

  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 binding 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."

  "Protect?” Idriz asked.

  "Yes, my son. We've made what we call an elixir; it's a liquid used to ward off the evil and to protect the villagers and our animals."

  "Is there an animal attacking the cattle?” Idriz asked.

  "In a way, it is an animal, but then it is so much more,” his father said, obviously struggling to find the right words to use. “It is evil in the shape of a man. It comes in the night to steal the blood from the animals. Sometimes it steals from the people, too."

  "Is it a werewolf?” Idriz asked, his eyes wide as he remembered the story he had heard told around the fire on evening.

  "No, Idriz, it is not a werewolf. This beast is called the vampire and it is very real."

  "Why has it come?"

  "I don't know, my son. Perhaps the fighting in the mountains has forced it out of its lair."

  "Can it be killed, the terrible beast?” Idriz asked.

  "Yes, there are ways. We made a special elixir that will keep it away. It's a poison to the creature; if it gets on their body or inside the body, it will kill it. If you splash it on them, it will burn."

  "What do you call this magic potion?"

  "It's not really a potion. But we just call it elixir. Its ancient name means ‘death to those that are already dead.’”

  "And it works, you are sure?"

  "Yes, it works, my son."

  "This vampire, it drinks the blood? All of it?"

  "It depends. If it plans to feed on the animal or human for a long time, it will drain the blood slowly, like saving food for a cold hard winter. If it does not care about saving, it can drain the body dry."

  "Where is this creature? Is it here in the village?"

  "Not in the village, but somewhere in the mountains. You know the place they call Devil's Grip?"

  "Yes."

  "We think it is there, but we are not sure."

  "We should kill it and all that are like them. Shall we do that, Father?"

  "It is not easy. It only comes out at night, and is extremely powerful and quick. The key to destroying it is to find out where it sleeps during the day. It hides from the sunlight; the light will kill it."

  "It hides from sunlight?"

  "Yes, the light is deadly to their kind. Some say it is because it is God's light."

  "But,” the boy began, sounding unsure, “is not the moonlight from God also?"

  "I think so. It is very confusing at times, even to someone like myself. The old book also tells us something else that we should remember that I do not understand."

  "What is that, father?"

  "That we should not kill them, for they serve a purpose."

  "What purpose do they serve that is possibly good? They steal blood from us or from our animals—there is no good in that."

  "Some believe everything that is written in these old books, but I do not. When you get older and if you should choose to read them, you may also not agree with them. But there are those who agree with the idea that creatures are necessary as long as their numbers are kept small."

  "If all they do is kill animals and people, why should they live?"

  "Some people, in the eyes of others, do not deserve to live and if the creatures take them, the rest of us will be better off in the end."

  "Who deserves to die in that manner?"

  "You know how sometimes we judge people by the way they act or by the way they look? We see people who do evil but cannot prove it so that they can be punished. Instead they banish these people from town and send them to the mountains."

  "Yes, father."

  "The creatures will judge them and decide their fate. If they are to die, then they will be killed."

  "To kill is all right?"

  "Some believe that by letting the creatures kill, they themselves have not committed any crimes against God."

  The boy thought about that for a few seconds as he looked at the sky. Then he turned toward his father. “But is not keeping evil the same as being evil?"

  "Yes, my son. I think so. But you must decide within yourself."

  "Then I think these creatures should all be destroyed. Every last one of them,” Idriz said.

  His father chuckled at the determination of his young son and patted his head again, then threw away his cigarette.

  "I'm going to go to sleep now. You come in a little while, okay?"

  "Yes, Father.” Idriz kissed his father good night.

  As he sat on the stone wall, Idriz's gaze turned toward the mountain in the direction toward Devil's Grip.

  "You better stay up there,” he said and spit in that direction. “Or I will kill you all."

  * * * *

  Idriz briefly awoke on the military cot in a small room. His head throbbed and he felt sweaty, even though the temperature was quite cool. He went to the sink, turned on the cold water and splashed some on his face. As he gazed upward into the mirror, he looked at a face
which reflected his torment. He looked much older than his fifty years; his eyes red from anger and tears, encircled by the wrinkles in his flesh from spending too much time under the rays of the sun and facing the harsh winters in the mountains.

  This country was unforgiving. If the constant fighting or weakening economy didn't claim him or his people, the lack of proper medical care and food did. But it was still his home that he had fought to keep, and would continue to do so until the land claimed him as it had his wife.

  His wife, his Anna, had been a frail woman who had died during the birth of their last daughter six years ago. He carried on with his life, grieving the loss of his wife and devoting himself to the raising of his two daughters. But now, they were all gone.

  He found himself tired, extremely tired, and returned to the cot. The past few days had worn him past the point of exhaustion, but he could not sleep without the dreams now serving as a constant reminder of what had happened. The return of the creatures and the murders of his children now occupied his every waking and sleeping thought. His two precious girls were dead by the hands of the creatures that had killed his parents more than thirty years ago.

  Unable to fight the fatigue that his thoughts brought, he returned to the cot and drifted off to sleep again.

  * * * *

  A fifteen-year-old Idriz returned home from his trip to the mountains. He whistled as he walked because he was in a good mood. It had been a successful hunting trip; he had gotten several deer and was bringing home a lot of meat tied on the backs of his packhorses. His father would be especially proud of this accomplishment; the fresh meat would feed them throughout the winter.

  As he approached his home in the fading sunlight, he saw many people near his house and heard women wailing. He dropped the lead ropes on the packhorses and ran the remaining distance. Someone from the crowd stepped forward to meet him; it was the mayor, Lexi Aristhmiski.

  "What's happened?” Idriz cried. “Where are my mother and father?"

  "Idriz, something terrible has happened,” the mayor began, his low voice characteristic with his short and pudgy shape. Idriz had always despised the man, for he was lazy and used his position to get out of work.

  "What? Tell me!” Idriz screamed.

  "Your mother and father. They're ... dead. God rest their souls.” He made the sign of the cross.

  "No! No!” Idriz felt his body's strength leave him. The mayor grabbed him by the arm and supported him, but Idriz brushed him away in contempt.

  "Tell me what happened!” Idriz demanded, as he struggled with his emotions.

  "They were mauled by an animal, perhaps a pack of wolves,” the mayor said, avoiding Idriz's eyes.

  "Wolves? Here in the village?"

  "No, not here. They were at Devil's Grip when it happened."

  "Devil's Grip? What were they doing there?"

  "They went there because there were more cattle mutilations,” the mayor said, his voice nervous. “The trail led them to that area. They found nothing but thought it best to spread some of the elixir in the area as a warning. After that, we can only assume that the animals attacked them, maybe something to do with the smell of the elixir. You know its main ingredient?"

  "Blood, from a dead animal,” Idriz answered. “Their bodies ... they weren't drained of blood?"

  "We don't think so. There was a lot of blood in the area where they were attacked—that is why we do not believe it was the creature, but wolves."

  Idriz looked at the mayor cautiously, unsure if the inflection in his voice indicated lies or grief.

  "But it might have been made to look that way,” Idriz said, more to himself than to the mayor. “Where is my grandmother?"

  "She is inside."

  Idriz moved through the crowd as the people he'd grown up with touched him and spoke their condolences. He ignored them and entered the house. He found his grandmother in her little room, sitting in her rocking chair and staring toward the mountains.

  "Grandmother,” he said. She looked to him, her eyes and face looked even older now in the dying light of the day.

  "Idriz,” she said as she raised her arms to him. He went to her and they embraced.

  "It's horrible, what has happened,” he said. “I will go after the animals that did this."

  "They are not animals, Idriz,” she said in a low but firm voice.

  "But the mayor ... Lexi said that there were animals."

  "The mayor says what he must to stem a panic. He is a coward,” she said and emulated spitting.

  "So it was the vampires?” Idriz asked.

  "Yes,” she said. “Your father and mother were out too late and must have been surrounded by them. I told them to stay away from that area, it was too close to their ... home."

  "Why were they there? Why did they go if they knew it was dangerous?"

  "There were more cattle killings, so your father said it was enough and set off to wipe them out. ‘To kill them all,’ he said. Your mother was scared he would get him into trouble by doing something foolish. She wouldn't let him go by himself—so she went with him."

  Idriz remembered the conversation he'd had with his father eight years ago. The words sounded remarkably like the words that he himself had used. Had he not said the same thing? To kill them all?

  "You didn't try and stop them?” Idriz asked.

  "I tried to dissuade them but they wouldn't listen. Nobody listens to the old people anymore. Your father said he didn't care what was in the old books about keeping a balance. He said he was tired of condoning the evil that walked in the night."

  Idriz became silent with his grief as his grandmother stroked his hair with her old hands.

  "I will go and finish the job,” he said.

  "No! I will not lose you to this foolishness,” she screamed.

  "I'm going. Nothing will stop me."

  "You must not go, Idriz—I beg of you."

  "You do not want revenge against these creatures?” he asked.

  "Of course I do,” she said adamantly. “But if you were to fail, the consequences would be deadly. They can wipe out the entire village if you make a mistake. We are not even sure if it is one or many. And if one should escape, we would be doomed to live in fear the rest of our lives. Do you want that on your conscience? There is a delicate balance here. Until we know exactly how many there are and where they are located, your actions will cause harm to everyone."

  Idriz thought for a few seconds.

  "Very well,” he said. “I will do nothing yet, but only if you promise to help me."

  "What?"

  "Show me how to make the elixir,” he said.

  "The elixir? But it—"

  "Don't worry,” he said, placing his hand on hers, “I will not risk the village in revenge. I promise you that. But if the time should come, I want to be ready. That is my duty, is it not?"

  His grandmother nodded and wept for her daughter and her son-in-law who were dead.

  Idriz did not cry. He just stared out the window toward the mountains.

  Six months later, Idriz led the cow down the narrow mountain path that he'd traveled countless times. He had selected this area upon his discovery of dead animals that had been discarded, which he ascertained had not been killed by animal predators. They were virtually untouched with the exception of puncture wounds on their body.

  As he reached the clearing that he had chosen, he tied the cow to a tree where it could be seen easily from the area known as Devil's Grip just as the sun was getting low in the horizon.

  The cow looked at Idriz's familiar face, its large eyes searching for the usual carrot that Idriz had used to win its friendship. As he stroked the animal's stocky neck, he felt a twinge of regret for the beast, knowing that he had used it to achieve his goal.

  "Tonight we get even,” he said to the cow. “I know you aren't feeling well, but that's because of the elixir I have been giving you. It will all be over soon and then I will not give you anymore ... I promise."

>   Chapter Fourteen

  Six months had passed since his father and mother had been buried, more than enough time to come up with a plan to get the creature that had killed his parents. His grandmother had showed him how to make the elixir and he had been feeding it to the cow so that it would build up in the animal's blood system. He took extra care to insure that only he milked the cow so he could dispose of the milk and not risk harm to anyone.

  It was getting darker now; it wouldn't be much longer, he thought. He found a place to hide amidst the brush and began to wait. He kept a bottle of the elixir with him in case things went wrong and he had to use it.

  Without a sound, a man appeared from the woods and walked toward the tied-up cow. Idriz studied the man as best he could as the last strands of daylight now gave way to the moon that bathed the area with an aura of golden hue. Idriz thought it strange that there was only one. He assumed that these creatures would be like wolves and hunt in a pack. But if only one existed, that made his revenge easier.

  The creature walked effortlessly, almost as if floating toward the cow, approaching the animal without any hesitation. Idriz assumed this was because it was not uncommon for stray cattle to make their way here, up from the pastures. The man caressed the cow with his hands that appeared a ghostly white in the moonlight, and then Idriz saw a flash of movement, and the man lowered his head and bit into the neck. The cow jumped briefly, but quickly settled down as if this creature soothed it in some way as it drank the poisoned blood.

  Idriz recoiled with revulsion at the sight of the creature drinking the blood from the cow, but he forced himself to watch. He waited impatiently but soon the moment that Idriz had waited for came.

  The creature recoiled from the cow, its lower face covered with blood as it writhed in pain, tiny bits of flames erupting over its skin. It turned and disappeared from sight with a wail of pain the likes of which Idriz had never heard before. He knew it meant death for the creature and he smiled.

  Idriz did not pursue, for he did not see the point in it. His grandmother assured him that if the elixir was in the body, death would come and there would be no trace of the body except for a pile of ashes. The flames he had seen were evident the process had begun. He felt overwhelming delight in seeing the creature suffer and he knew that if there were more, the delight would get stronger each time he killed one.