Out of the Night

by Robin T. Popp

  She looked at him expectantly and he snorted. “Honey, all that proves is that son of a bitch Burton has gotten away with murder, faked his own death, and disappeared— all so he won’t have to face a prison term. Now, I’m going to watch this tape, and I think you should stay here. I suspect it’ll get pretty gruesome.”

  He left the room and headed for the front of the building, finding that not even his bad leg bothered him as much as usual. A few seconds later he heard Lanie’s footsteps as she rushed to catch up to him, but neither spoke as they continued through the hallways and made their way through the double doors to the front desk.

  Mac was glad to see that the bodies had been removed and the area cleaned. Dirk stood with Sanchez and two others behind a man seated in a chair at the security desk. All attention was focused on the monitor before them. At the sound of their approach, Dirk looked back. Then his eyes fell on Lanie.

  “Ms. Weber, I don’t—”

  Mac held up his hand to stop Dirk midsentence. “I already told her not to come. Let her stay.”

  Dirk studied his face and then Lanie’s, perhaps wondering how hard Mac had tried to convince her. Then he nodded. “Suit yourself.”

  Mac put a hand at the small of Lanie’s back to guide her to the front of the group. Awareness prickled through him at the contact, but he tried to ignore it. His focus needed to be on the monitor.

  Standing behind Lanie, looking over her shoulder, he saw that the screen was split into quarters, with a different part of the building appearing in each of the four sections. The picture was a blur with figures flickering in and out of view as it fast-forwarded through the days.

  Periodically, the man operating the controls would slow the recording enough that Mac could see the date and time stamp in the lower right-hand corner. When it read 11:56 in the evening on the day before yesterday, the recording was allowed to proceed.

  “Okay,” the tech at the desk announced. “This is it.”

  Thankfully, there was no noise, but what they saw was bad enough. The double doors flew open as four workers, clearly terrified, burst through. Two dark forms, moving so fast that they appeared almost as shadows, followed them.

  Mac watched as the shadow-figures caught each man in turn, brought him close, and held him in a macabre embrace, mouth pressed to their victim’s neck. When they finished with one, the attackers flung the lifeless body away and grabbed another.

  Mac saw the security guard, moving too slowly to be effective, pull his gun and fire. The dark forms did not falter, but when the last of the four workers lay dead, one of the two forms attacked the guard, whose face was turned toward the camera. His expression of stark terror was undeniable, and when his mouth opened, Mac was again grateful that they couldn’t hear the man’s primal scream.

  After discarding the guard’s body, the dark forms lingered for the briefest of moments before disappearing through the double doors.

  Within seconds, the grisly images replayed in the lab. This time, when the bodies were discarded and the dark forms left, they did not reappear elsewhere—they simply disappeared.

  The monitor went black as the group stood in stunned silence. Mac spared a glance at Lanie to make sure she was okay. Her jaw was clinched tight, and he thought her breathing sounded erratic, but she was tough, he decided, and would be okay.

  “I’d like to see it again,” he said to the technician. “But can we watch it in real time?” He wanted to get a better look at the two dark figures.

  The tech glanced over his shoulder. “That was real time.”

  Damn. A bad feeling stole over him, but he refused to focus on it. ”Can you slow it down, then?”

  The tech nodded and, turning back to the desk, typed in commands at the keyboard. A second later, the entire horrifying scene replayed in slow motion, but this time when the dark forms came into view, it was evident that they were human. Mac watched closely.

  “Stop the recording,” he ordered after a second. “Can you rewind a bit? Okay, now go forward, but slow it way down.” The tech typed in the commands to comply, and Mac studied the action on the screen. “Freeze.”

  The image froze and the two attackers’ faces were almost facing the camera.

  “Can you zoom in?” Dirk asked.

  The faces seemed to jump out at the group, fuzzy but identifiable, and he felt his own blood run cold. Beside him, Lanie gasped. On the screen, bloodied yet smiling, was Lance Burton. Standing next to him was an older man who Mac assumed was Dr. Weber.

  He’d seen enough. Turning, he gently guided Lanie away from the group. She might have been in shock because she allowed him to steer her outside where the bright afternoon sun could warm them and chase away the chills still racing along his spine.

  “Now do you believe me?”

  It wasn’t the first thing he’d expected her to say, or do, in reaction to what they’d seen. He gave her a speculative look before letting his gaze drift off to stare sightlessly at the trees.

  “Honey, I already knew Burton was psycho—and this isn’t the first time he’s murdered innocent people to get what he wants. However, it’s the first time we caught him on tape.”

  Eyeing her skeptically, he considered how much to tell her. “Burton and I served together in the Navy; specifically, we were members of the same SEAL team. Burton was good, but not the best. He was promoted several times to a higher rank, but never as high as he felt he deserved. After a while, I think it got harder for him to accept that he wasn’t leadership material in the military’s eyes.

  “We started out as equals—friends—but when I became his commanding officer, he didn’t like it. The ‘accidents’ started out small, and frankly, it never occurred to me that they were due to anything other than bad luck.” Mac traveled back in his mind to those earlier days. “I should have paid closer attention. Maybe I would have recognized the symptoms, before . . .”

  He took a deep breath, aware that Lanie was listening and grateful that she didn’t rush him or ask a lot of questions. “We were on assignment in Iraq. In and out—that’s all we had to do, but the mission was compromised from the start. The loyalties of the men in my unit were severely tested by Burton, who seemed bent on running the show his way. He managed to divide the group.

  “We were on our way in when all hell broke loose and we were ambushed. I lost seven men—ironically, the seven whose loyalty happened to be to me, not to Burton. I took a bullet in the leg. It shattered my femur and subsequently ended my military career. Only two men knew our route—me and my second in command.” He shook his head, wondering exactly why he was sharing this with her. They’d only met—how long ago? Twenty-four hours?

  “And Burton was your second in command.” The softly spoken statement drifted to him above the sound of hundreds of insects buzzing in the trees.

  “Yeah.” He hadn’t realized she’d come to stand so close to him until he felt her hand lightly touch his arm. Normally, he wasn’t the touchy-feely type, but he didn’t find her nearness intrusive.

  “Are you sure it was Burton who betrayed you?”

  He gave a humorless laugh. “I’ve asked myself that a million times over the past year. Until recently, I had no proof. Then a month ago, Rogers, one of the survivors, came forward, supposedly in a fit of conscience, and admitted that he’d overheard Burton planning the whole thing and hadn’t tried to stop him. Unfortunately, Rogers died in a car wreck before anything could be proved, but his statement was enough to warrant a formal inquiry, which happens to be scheduled for next week. That’s why I found Burton’s death so timely.” The story was more complicated than that, but he didn’t feel like going into it.

  “If Burton was under investigation, then what was he doing down here in the first place?”

  Mac gave a rueful smile. “You have to understand, things had not progressed so far that Burton was being accused of anything. The first step was the upcoming inquiry. All the surviving members of the team were being brought in—including Bur
ton. His backup would have flown down any day to relieve him of duty so he could fly to D.C.”

  Mac saw the genuine concern in her eyes—her sympathy and understanding—and hated himself for what he had to do next. “What I don’t know is the extent to which your father is involved in Burton’s scheme.”

  His words were clearly unexpected, and for a moment she simply stared at him. “How dare you,” she finally said, her voice filling with indignation. “My father is—was—a good, honest man. He’s a victim of whatever is going on here, and I’ll thank you not to forget it.” Then she stormed off.

  Lanie needed a chance to think—a chance to absorb everything Mac had told her, and a chance to cool down. She kept reminding herself that he didn’t know her father and therefore, his accusation was to be expected, but that line of logic wasn’t comforting. His suspicions hurt and left her feeling betrayed, which, if she was honest with herself, was a projection of her own guilt. In the privacy of her own thoughts, hadn’t she also wondered about the extent of her father’s involvement? Because he was involved. She had seen him on the tape. He had killed. The only question that remained was, had he gotten mixed up in Burton’s scheme voluntarily?

  No—absolutely not. Burton might be psychotic, but her father wasn’t. He would never fake his own death or voluntarily participate in the murder of others. Yet, how could she explain his appearance on the film? The two forms had moved across the room too fast for human speed, killed innocent victims, and drank their blood. It made no sense. If Burton was hoping to quietly disappear to avoid the investigation, he was certainly doing everything he could to draw attention to himself.

  Which brought her back to her earlier theory.

  Lanie turned to pace the length of the building and saw that while she’d been lost in thought, Lieutenant Davis had appeared. Mac had probably sent him to keep an eye on her and make sure she was safe. Irritation flitted through her. She didn’t need a babysitter. She’d never needed a babysitter.

  When she was growing up, her father hadn’t believed in babysitters, opting, instead, to drag her across the country with him, enlisting her help with his research when it became apparent that she was more computer literate than he. She’d grown to love her hours of digging on the Internet for obscure facts and information regarding various cryptids, the animals her father sought to find. She enjoyed the challenge of proving they existed, which was the reason why the idea that vampires existed wasn’t that far-fetched to her. Especially now. If the chupacabra— believed by most to be as fictitious as the Yeti, Big Foot, or even the Loch Ness monster—was real, then why couldn’t vampires be real as well?

  She quickened her steps, her wandering now taking on purpose and direction. She wanted to see the cage where she and Mac had found the chupacabra. Dirk Adams had reported that the creature was gone, but she felt compelled to take a look for herself.

  When she rounded the corner to the backyard, she caught the outline of something lying inside the cage. Nerves suddenly wound tight, she slowed her speed, watchful for the least sign of movement. Her mind raced back to the events from the night before. Had she really killed the creature? If so, perhaps even in death, it turned to stone during the daylight hours. That would explain why Dirk’s men hadn’t found the “wild animal”—they hadn’t known what to look for.

  She was close enough to the cage now to see that the form was, in fact, the stone gargoyle. She had to suppress the shudder that ran through her and resist the temptation to run away. Quickly glancing at the sky, she judged that she had several minutes before the sun set and darkness descended around her. If the creature had somehow survived, she did not want to be caught unawares.

  Creeping forward, she split her attention between the statue and the cage door, wondering if, in her haste the night before, she had securely closed and locked it. A few steps closer and she saw that she had.

  She heard Davis’s footsteps coming up behind her, his gun held ready in his arms and his eyes scanning the area for a danger he couldn’t see. She practically heard the thoughts racing through his head as he glanced at her.

  Turning her back on him, she moved up to the cage bars so she could see the chupacabra. It didn’t look nearly as frightening in the light of day as she remembered it. Of course, right now, it wasn’t snarling and trying to rip out her throat.

  Small, round indentations along the statue’s surface caught her eye. Peering closer, she realized they were bullet holes. They looked shallow and faint, causing Lanie to wonder if the creature might still be alive and, in its hibernating state, healing itself. If that was the case, then . . .

  “Ma’am, it’ll be dark soon. We should go back inside.” Davis’s voice was polite but firm. She ignored him. Now that she knew what to expect, she wasn’t going to miss out on it. As the minutes ticked by, her anticipation and excitement built. Maybe there was more of her father in her than she realized.

  Feeling safe enough with the thick steel bars of the cage separating her from the creature, Lanie waited as the shadows around her grew larger and the sun slipped below the horizon.

  The transformation was as sudden this time as it had been the night before. One minute Lanie was staring at a statue lying on the ground and the next, a living creature was struggling to its feet. Unlike the night before, it did not leap to attack her, and she wondered if the bullets had left it so wounded that it was dying; its ultimate death postponed when the sun came up, only to resume now that night had arrived.

  She felt a small measure of sympathy for it. Animals rarely acted maliciously—reacting merely to their circumstances. She and Mac had been in the wrong place at the wrong time last night, and she felt bad for injuring it when perhaps it had been as frightened as she and Mac had been. She didn’t make the mistake of feeling too sorry, however. After all, it had killed her father and Burton—and almost killed Mac.

  “What the hell . . .”

  She’d almost forgotten about Davis. “That’s the creature that attacked us last night. No, wait!” She put up a hand to stop Davis from shooting it. “Don’t kill it.”

  “What is it?”

  “El Chupacabra,” she replied, returning her gaze to the creature. She wished Mac were there with her. It would be hard for him to argue against cold, hard fact. “Lieutenant Davis? Would you please radio someone inside the facility and ask them to send Mac out here?”

  Davis didn’t reply.

  A thunk, followed by a soft ruffling of leaves, was her only indication that something was wrong. She turned and spotted Davis, crumpled at the base of a nearby tree.

  Beside his body stood her father and Burton.

  Chapter 5

  Dad?”

  Lanie couldn’t believe her eyes. Was it really him? Her heart leaped with sudden joy.

  Both men stood at the forest’s edge, peering at her from the shadowy depths beneath the canopy of tree limbs, their eyes glowing reddish in the dark. At the sound of her voice, her father took a step closer and she saw that he looked wan and pale; his skin almost translucent where errant beams of moonlight touched it. Yet a happy smile touched his lips as he gazed at her.

  “Lanie, my child, I never thought I’d see you again—and here you are.”

  “They said you were dead.” Her voice cracked with the strain of her emotions. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but hesitated as images from the security recording flashed through her mind.

  “No, don’t come closer.” His voice caught and he paused to collect himself. “I fed earlier, but still, the temptation is hard to resist.”

  “What?” She felt confused, and her eyes darted from his face to Burton’s, which looked predatory. She didn’t think her father would harm her, but she wasn’t so sure about this man.

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

  “I died.” Instead of sounding sorrowful, Lanie caught a hint of excitement in his voice. “It’s incredible, isn’t it? Two myths put to rest. Of course, no one mu
st ever know.”

  “So, you really are—?”

  Burton took a step closer and Lanie stopped talking, distracted by the sensation of his eyes traveling over her. Sheer willpower kept her standing in place, but fear swamped her senses. Burton’s lips curled in a mockery of a grin, and she saw fangs where the canine teeth once had been. She couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through her as an unnatural silence fell.

  As if playing with her, Burton crossed one arm in front of him and rested the elbow of his other arm against it so he could stroke his chin in thoughtful repose. The image was made more surreal by the talon-sharp nails that now tipped each finger.

  Across the way, she heard Davis stir and gasp.

  “Don’t move,” she warned him.

  “Who are they?”

  Burton chuckled. “The who is not as important as the what, I’m afraid.”

  “Our worst nightmare?” Lanie suggested.

  Burton’s laugh was more genuine this time. “I suppose that was a bit cliché. Such wit. So, Weber, this is your daughter? Maybe we should take her with us. What do you think?”

  “Leave her alone,” her father growled. “Or I won’t help you.”

  Burton walked up to her, stopping inches away. He ran one sharpened nail lightly down the side of her cheek, and the light in his eyes turned to molten lava. “I wonder if her blood tastes as sweet as the smell of her fear?”

  “You can’t do this without my help, Lance, and I promise you, if you harm my daughter—”

  Burton held up a hand to silence her father, his expression turning cold and hard. With a last long look at Lanie, he walked to the cage door. Lanie’s heart lurched when she realized what he was about to do.

  “No—don’t!”

  Displaying incredible strength, he grabbed the door and pulled it open. The metal in the lock groaned under the stress, finally submitting to the greater strength. It opened and Burton walked inside.

  Amazingly enough, the adult chupacabra rose to its feet, but did not attack. For several seconds, Burton and the creature studied each other intensely. Then the chupa dipped its head and followed Burton quietly out of the cage, making no move to attack anyone. In fact, it walked straight over to her father.