Operation: Immortal Servitude From Declassified Files of Team of Darkness

by Tony Ruggiero

  "Yes, they are fascinating,” Reese agreed.

  "Ever since I watched them perform the test mission—the way they move and blend into their surroundings—it's as if they were made for it."

  "Survival instincts,” Reese said. “All creatures have them to an extent in order that they can survive. These creatures, however, not only possess those instincts, but the brains by which they use them."

  "Survival of the fittest,” Johnson said. “The weak shall perish and only the strong remain to carry on."

  "Yes, something like that,” Reese answered. He found Johnson's take on this aspect a little disturbing.

  "Why do suppose they never took over the world?” Johnson asked.

  "Tough question,” Reese said, as he again wondered where Johnson was going with all this. “You have to remember that until a few days ago, we weren't even sure they existed at all."

  "Can you speculate?” Johnson asked. Reese thought his tone was close to demanding an answer and he didn't use the characteristic ‘sir’ he always did.

  "It's mainly from a standpoint of control. If the master has many under him, he could be challenged for control and the chances of losing it would be greater. There is no reference to any large groups that indicates that they prefer it that way. I have read that they basically stake their territory, so to speak, and will chase out any other vampire that might enter it, as a manner of protecting their food supply."

  "Territorial."

  "Exactly,” Reese agreed, and decided it was time to go, He rose to leave. “It's late and we both need some rest. I must be going."

  "Wait a minute, please—sir,” Johnson asked as he reached for Reese's arm. “Just one more question."

  "All right,” Reese said, surprised at Johnson's sudden interest. He sat back down.

  "What if they weren't that way, territorial or isolationists. Say someone had brought them all together to form a large group and descended on humanity town by town, making more creatures. And the cycle kept on going and going. Wouldn't the world be an interesting place today?"

  "Interesting?” Reese asked. To himself, he thought Johnson had lost it. “No, I wouldn't say that. I wouldn't even want to imagine something like that. Why are you asking these kinds of questions?"

  "Just thinking,” Johnson said simply.

  "If you want some advice, you need to back away from thoughts like that. These creatures and their talents are obviously consuming you. This whole affair is crazy and you better watch out for General Stone. He has plans within plans and I don't trust him. He strikes me as the kind of person that would do whatever it takes to get something done, regardless of the cost."

  "Of course he would,” Johnson agreed. “He's a soldier. His main concern is with the protection of this country against all enemies foreign and domestic. That is what the military is supposed to do. You do remember that oath, Commander, don't you?"

  "Of course I do,” Reese snapped. “And don't take that tone with me, Lieutenant! You are not General Stone, nor are you the expert on military law. As with most things, these oaths and commitments come with morals and conscience. We do not act blindly without considering the consequence of our actions, regardless of what superior officer issues the order."

  "I am aware of that, Commander."

  "Good, glad to hear it, Lieutenant. What the hell has gotten into you? It's the general, isn't it? He's gotten to you, hasn't he?” Reese asked. “Filled your mind with enough patriotic flavor to hide the real taste of what he has in mind. What does he really have planned?"

  "Good night, Commander,” Johnson said, as he rose and opened the door for Reese. “It's late and, as you said, we are both tired. Our passions seem to be getting the best of us."

  Reese rose and stepped toward the open door but did not go through it. He turned to face Johnson. “Lieutenant, all I am saying is that you need to be very careful here. You're being drawn in two directions, by the general and Dimitri."

  "Thank you for your concern, Commander."

  "Look, Johnson, Dimitri and the others gave up their souls more than a hundred years ago so that they could continue to live. They didn't have any choice in the matter, but you do,” Reese said, pointing at him. “Don't do anything you might regret later."

  Johnson did not respond to Reese's words or gesture as Reese exited the room.

  The door was slammed shut behind him. Reese opened his own door and went into his room. He closed his door, and lay on the bunk, but did not sleep for a long time.

  Chapter Forty-six

  "I think it's time for a more advanced test of our little group,” Stone said.

  Scott looked up from what he had been reading with a look of surprise on his face. “Sir?"

  "Stop that ‘you didn't hear me’ bullshit!” Stone said. “This is nothing too big, but just enough to give them a true test of the real conditions they will be operating under."

  "Sir,” Scott said in a cautious voice. “I thought we were going to wait until they underwent some special ops training with Johnson."

  "That is correct,” he agreed. “The target I have in mind won't require as much stealth as going up against the Columbian cartels. This is ... more local and a less-developed enemy."

  "Where?” Scott asked.

  "Mexico,” Stone said coolly. “They can't match the Columbian cartels’ ability to produce cocaine; however, they are starting to buy direct on their own and then get it across the border and into established networks for distribution. We need to slap them hard to make them think twice about going off on their own. We can't afford to fight on two fronts so we need to eliminate one, and that one is Mexico."

  "But sir, isn't this a local affair, DEA and the Mexican authorities?"

  "Of course it is, you asshole. But the Mexicans are so corrupt they can't do anything on their own without every drug trafficker from San Diego to Tijuana knowing about it."

  "Aren't we stepping on some toes here—do we want the added attention?” Scott asked.

  "They won't know it's us. This will be a strictly covert op, completely on our own. We can't let this shit keep coming in to our country. Do you have any idea how many people died in this country last year from illegal drugs?"

  "No, sir."

  "Over 50,000 people, and that doesn't even take into account the billions it costs our economy alone. We have to strike early to keep them from organizing like the Columbians have. We rout them once and in just the right way, we can put them back into the Stone Age for a while, forcing them to go back to the Columbians for help."

  General Stone picked up a folder lying on his desk. “Here is the target,” he said, handing Scott the folder. “DEA intelligence has located a tunnel that runs from the border at Tijuana for about 1500 feet and onto the California side. The drug lord is Joaquin Guzman and he's a real nice guy. Supposedly he murdered all the workers that dug the tunnel to make sure its location remained a secret. He must think he is some goddamned pharaoh or something."

  "How come DEA hasn't moved on it yet?” Scott asked.

  "They will in four days,” Stone replied.

  "Then why—"

  "Because the Mexicans are bound to screw it up and the Americans can't do a damn thing because what happens on their side of the border is their business and what happens on our side is our business. Fucking politics as usual. That's why we will send in our team. We don't give a rat's ass about borders. Not now—not ever."

  "I see,” Scott said unconvincingly.

  "I doubt that,” Stone shot back, “but I don't care if you see it or not. I want the operation completed in two days. That gives you a day to get them there and staged and then into the operation on the next night."

  "What do we—"

  "And I don't want them to know what is happening. Just tell them it is a training operation. The same goes for Johnson. We need to see how he reacts under pressure as well. Make up some story about going against a West Coast SEAL team or something."

  "Sir, this is
highly—"

  "I don't want to hear it. Just do it!"

  "Yes, sir,” Scott said and turned to leave.

  "Two more things,” Stone said.

  Scott stopped and turned back to face him.

  "First, keep Commander Reese back here, he doesn't need to go. Second, ensure the team is not fed prior to departure."

  "Yes, sir,” Scott answered and left the office.

  General Stone closed the folder he had been looking at and smiled.

  * * * *

  One hour later, Lieutenant Johnson stood in front of Commander Scott's desk at parade rest as Scott explained the situation.

  "The general has requested that you and your team participate in a training...” he paused, “in a live ammo training exercise on the West Coast."

  Johnson's eyes showed momentary confusion at the announcement but he quickly recovered with his usual military and unquestioning demeanor. “Yes, sir."

  "You need to get the team to the West Coast in eighteen hours and commence the operation at the twenty-four-hour mark. Do you see any problems with that?"

  "No, sir."

  "Good. After you stage your team in San Diego, you will have transportation at your disposal to the target. It's all there in the package. Any questions?"

  "Sir, you did say live ammo training?"

  "That's correct."

  "Very well,” Johnson said. “Is that all?"

  "Just one more thing,” Scott said. “Be prepared for anything. Do you understand me, Lieutenant? Anything."

  "Yes, sir, I understand. Is there anything else?"

  "The creatures are not to be fed before you depart."

  Johnson nodded and turned and left the office.

  Scott watched him leave and wondered if he would see him again—alive.

  * * * *

  Reese was heading toward the vampires’ quarters for the educational portion of their training. He surprised himself that he actually thought of them as vampires now rather than creatures. Was his perception of them changing or was he trying to justify something to himself about their existence? Or was it that Dimitri had clouded his thoughts with his philosophy and word manipulation? His thoughts were interrupted as he ran into Johnson exiting the area where they were waiting for him.

  "Lieutenant,” Reese said in a greeting. The relations between the two men still cool since their heated discussion from the other night.

  "Commander,” Johnson replied. “I'm afraid your time with the creatures tonight will have to be cancelled."

  "Why?” Reese asked.

  "Training operation in San Diego. Dimitri and his men are preparing to go. We will be leaving in the next hour."

  "Why such short notice?” Reese asked.

  "I don't know,” Johnson said. “I just got word myself from Commander Scott."

  "Well, I better get my things ready,” Reese said.

  "You aren't going, sir. General Stone wants you to remain here."

  "Reason?"

  "Don't know, sir. But probably because it's a fast turnaround and there won't be any time for you to work with them."

  Reese detected edginess in Johnson's tone, as if he was worried about something.

  "Is there something going on I should know about?” Reese asked.

  "No, sir. Everything is fine. I need to get my own gear ready,” Johnson replied. “If you will excuse me, sir, I need to get moving."

  "Of course,” Reese answered. “You're sure there isn't anything—"

  Before Reese finished his statement, Johnson was moving quickly down the corridor to his room.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  The night air in San Diego was cool and clear, revealing a starlit sky. Johnson watched as his team boarded the truck for the short ride to the starting point of their operation. They were all dressed in black clothing, which included gloves and a hood that was to be pulled over their faces. The only weapon the vampires were allowed were knives, which were sheathed and attached to their ankles. When the last member was in, Johnson jumped in the truck with them. The truck rumbled off into the darkness of the night as the men sat in silence.

  There were two SEALs in the front seat of the truck who were not part of Johnson's unit but had been assigned as a support element for anything Johnson needed. One of them slid the window open that joined the cab area to the cargo area.

  "Lieutenant Johnson,” the man said. “This came for you about twenty minutes ago.” He reached through the window with an arm and handed Johnson a sealed envelope. Johnson took the envelope and opened it. Inside there was one sheet of paper with one line of handwritten text on it. He immediately recognized the handwriting: it was General Stone's. The message was simply, This is not a training exercise. Show these bastards what your men can do—kill them all—no prisoners.

  Johnson looked up from the note to find Dimitri looking at him. The red reflection in his eyes glittered from the illumination from the light as the truck bumped along the rough road. He found his eyes focusing upon the collars they wore.

  "Are you really surprised?” Dimitri asked, his voice calm and sure.

  "What?” Johnson asked, trying to hide his reaction to the abruptness of the note and the suddenness of Dimitri's question.

  "This is not just a training mission,” Dimitri said. “Even I know that. The general still seeks proof of what we can do. He seeks proof in the number of bodies we give him tonight. Is this not true?"

  Johnson did not answer Dimitri's question.

  "You have been around my men long enough to know our capabilities as well as our weaknesses. This prolonged period of not feeding will cause us to be swift as well as efficient. We will end it quickly."

  "But you don't even know who or what you are up against,” Johnson said.

  "It does not matter. They are men. They are human. They can and will die."

  "Isn't that a little over-confident? I've seen good men die from that kind of attitude."

  "We are not men, nor are we good,” Dimitri answered. “However, your caution is correct in one respect. We can die if their weaponry is sophisticated enough."

  "It shouldn't be,” Johnson said. “All intelligence suggests low tech."

  "Let us hope so,” Dimitri said.

  The truck came to a stop at a lone house that sat in the middle of an expansive open area consisting of a mixture of sand and rock.

  "Let's go,” Johnson said.

  The team climbed out of the back of the truck and entered the house. They found the stairs and headed downward into the basement. At one end of the basement there was a tunnel opening of four foot wide by seven foot tall. By the opening of the tunnel stood two SEALs from Johnson's original unit. In the corner, there were three people tied up with cloth sacks over their heads and lying on their side.

  "Any problem?” Johnson asked.

  "No, sir,” said one of the SEALs. “They're DEA agents, so we went kind of easy on them,” he said and smiled at Johnson. “We'll make a call after the op and let their people know to come and get them."

  "Is everything ready?” Johnson asked.

  "Yes, sir,” the other one replied. “There has been no activity from the listening devices in the tunnel."

  "Good.” Johnson said, as he gestured for Dimitri to come closer so as to hear the conversation. “One hour is the limit of this op,” Johnson said. “If we aren't back in that time, blow the tunnel and activate the collars. Is that understood?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Understood,” Dimitri answered.

  "Cover up, gentleman,” Johnson said, as he pulled on his mask. When all the men had covered up their faces, he continued, “The tunnel is about 1500 feet in length. I will lead and—"

  "Lieutenant,” Dimitri said. “If I may suggest, one of us should go first in case there is any danger or booby traps."

  "Negative,” Johnson said curtly. “I lead."

  Dimitri eyed him warily but did not say anything.

  "These might come in handy,” Jo
hnson said, as he handed them night vision goggles."

  "They are not necessary,” Dimitri said. “We can see fine in the darkness."

  Johnson didn't say anything but took the glasses back from them. He fastened his own pair around his neck. “Let's go."

  They entered into the darkness of the tunnel. Johnson moved ahead cautiously as he observed and studied the green glowing areas of the heat from the rock structure. Stopping, he looked behind him and did not see his team. Suddenly he felt a cool hand on his shoulder.

  "You will not see us in this state,” Dimitri said softly. “After we have fed, you will see an indication of body heat."

  "Right,” Johnson said as he remembered.

  They continued on for several minutes, although it seemed like hours for Johnson, because he couldn't see the enemy ahead of him or the vampires behind him. He wasn't sure which to fear more. He touched the remote device in his web belt and felt some reassurance. The creatures could not harm him in any way without the device going off and ending their own lives.

  "We are close,” he heard Dimitri whisper nearby him. “We can smell them."

  "Affirmative,” Johnson answered. He hated talking out loud, but Stone had limited the technical gear they could bring with them, which included their communication devices.

  As they turned a corner in the tunnel, the first indications of artificial light and sounds of people reached Johnson. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

  "There is some form of light beam ahead,” Dimitri whispered. “I can see it."

  "How the hell can you see—” Johnson began but then stopped as he remembered what Reese had said, superior vision as well as hearing. “Motion sensor."

  "It will not detect us,” Dimitri replied. “We give off no heat so there is no motion to detect. We should go first."

  "No,” Johnson said.

  "Why are you so foolish?” Dimitri asked. “You put yourself in harm's way for no reason."

  "I am in charge,” Johnson replied, as if those words were enough to explain his reason. Although Dimitri's logic was correct, he felt the need to prove that he was in control of the operation. He also was aware of Dimitri's ability with words and persuasion and he didn't want any influence on how the operation would be run. “You will show me where the sensor is and I will step over it."