Strigoi

by John O'Brien

  I contemplate asking about several other team members whom I’ve worked with in the past, but I opt to let it go.

  “I wish you had mentioned this upon signing up,” I state.

  “Would it have made a difference?” Cyrus queries.

  “Probably not,” I answer.

  “We still have all other resources and infrastructure, we’re just shy on teams in the field,” Cyrus says.

  “And data,” Lynn adds.

  “And that.”

  “I’m assuming that lapse has been shored up?” I say.

  Cyrus nods.

  “Okay, well, it is what it is, and we can’t change it. We’ll just work with what we have. So, what’s the worst that can happen if they make it there? I mean, aside from a lot of civilian deaths,” I query.

  “Well, the police get drawn in and then the Mexican military. Then, the press shows up, pictures are taken, and this goes public, possibly leading to the war of annihilation Vladmir described.”

  “Evacuate the town, then. The vamps will move on elsewhere if there isn’t food,” I say.

  “That plan is already in the works, but the point is that this pack will have to be taken care of eventually. They are edging out of the mountains and into densely populated areas. They will encounter urban centers sooner rather than later,” Cyrus says.

  “Okay, fine, we’ll deal with what we have. How quickly can that city be cleared out?”

  “Within days. We’ll issue notice of an outbreak of plague or something along those lines, perhaps even throw in something about a cartel war. Your mission established precedence for that. We’ll move personnel into place to create a blockade and mimic WHO and CDC doctors. But, Jack, if we do that and those strigoi get past to the blockade, then we’ll have a mess on our hands. So, we can have the town evacuated, but not before there’s a plan in place to take down the creatures,” Cyrus states.

  “So, again, you have personnel, just not along the front lines?”

  Cyrus nods.

  “Well, shit. It’s six of us against twenty vampires who can instantly heal and don’t easily die. What’s to worry about?” Greg says.

  “Those seem like fair odds if you ask me,” Gonzalez says, turning to look toward me. “We can do this, sir.”

  “Okay, let’s settle down to business. We know what we’re facing, so let’s focus on ways to make them die instead of us. We’re smarter, so let’s start demonstrating that fact,” I say. “It’s idea time.”

  “Well, firepower and brains are our weapons. What about luring them into an open area and calling the gunship down?” McCafferty pipes up. “It may not outright kill them, but it will weaken them.”

  “Then we can chase them down and finish the job,” Greg chimes in.

  “Hang on a second. Let’s back up just a little bit. Lynn, what toys do we have that might help?” I ask.

  “Oh shit. I damn near forgot. Sorry, I was a little taken aback by the news that we’re alone,” Lynn responds.

  “My apologies for that. I had thought we could hold off disclosing that until we vetted and trained more,” Cyrus interjects. “It’s not a shining moment for me or the Organization.”

  “Now, we don’t have any shit like they show in the movies. You know, UV bombs, magic bullets, or anything like that. As you now know, man-made UV doesn’t work and everything we’ve created in the C spectrum is absorbed by the atmosphere. But, we do have some help,” Lynn says, walking across the room and returning with a box.

  Opening the lid, she withdraws a double-edged knife with a steel handle wrapped with a rubber-type coating. The blade is about six inches in length, the tip not pointed, but ending in a sharpened chisel. I was expecting a bit more, and I personally like my knives better than what she’s holding. That is, until she presses a small trigger-like lever near the hilt. There’s a sharp thunk as the blade jets forward a few inches with force, the edges separating from a central core to rapidly extend outward several inches. I’m instantly in love.

  “The idea is to stab in the throat and activate it. The end will punch through the vertebrae and the edges cut outward, effectively beheading the victim. It will also work if slid through the ribs and into the heart,” Lynn briefs.

  She presses a button, and the blades return to their original position with a hiss of released air under pressure.

  “Now, it only has a single use until refilled,” she continues, extracting a metal compressed CO2 cartridge.

  With a quick twist, she extracts the hasp, removes a used cartridge, and inserts a fresh one.

  “The compressed air overcomes the natural tension that holds the blades together. It’s a sealed system that has been solidly tested in numerous environments. It’s even been tested against skulls, with effective penetration. Now, this is obviously a close range weapon.”

  “But, my question is whether it will penetrate Jack’s skull. I mean, it being solid bone and all,” Greg comments.

  “Fuck off,” I say, damn near drooling over the knife in Lynn’s hands.

  “That’s it? That’s the lamest comeback ever,” Greg says.

  “I’m too busy looking at our new toy to worry about your mouth noises. Which, oddly, sound a lot like other rude gaseous emissions,” I retort.

  Turning back to Lynn, I ask, “Do those come in anything ranged?”

  “Unfortunately not. We’re working on it. It’s not along the lines of a ballistic knife; the problem lies with the compression necessary to make it work. The nearest we’ve come is in bolt form, but the weight limits the range,” Lynn replies. “Plus, the blades have to enter at the correct angle for it to work effectively.”

  My mind sidetracks as I think of ways to make this idea work with a crossbow. Now, I’m sure they have much smarter people at work on this, but I can’t help cycling ideas through my head. I envision the arrowhead on a bearing with the shaft rotating for stability, but the size of the blades for the necessary mechanism will drive the point off target relatively easily. It takes the knife sliding across the table to bring me back to the moment. I jump back, expecting the blades to spring open.

  Lynn laughs. “Relax, Jack, they have a safety feature. Your vitals are safe.”

  “How many can we have?”

  “How many do you want?” Cyrus asks.

  “I plan on ringing my belt with them. Then maybe a couple on my thighs…oh yeah, and a couple at my calf. One on my vest, no, two,” I reply.

  “You’d vanish in a red mist if those all engaged at once,” Greg comments.

  “The lady said they were safe tied…Geez.”

  “I’ll have a crate delivered, along with several crates of cartridges,” Cyrus says. “They’ll arrive in the morning.”

  “Much appreciated. Is there anything else?” I ask.

  “Just specialized expansion rounds that tumble upon impact. The decreased range and accuracy usually associated with those types of rounds will be negligible, and the additional damage makes it worthwhile. They’re designed to deal as much damage as possible; we figured the idea would be to bleed them in order to limit their abilities,” Lynn responds.

  “Is there any possibility of getting higher capacity magazines?” I query

  “I’ll look into it.”

  I examine the knife, checking out how it works. There’s a wedge-like lever that slides under the trigger lever and is held in place by a spring-loaded depressible button. In the middle is a fixed core along which the actuator arms ride. The blades expand via a rigid arm attached to each side of the blade and hinged arms that are propelled by the compressed gas up the central core. Once expanded, the pressurized gas holds the blades in place until it is released by a button; the blades are then withdrawn automatically by tight springs in the handle.

  Interesting.

  “Okay, let’s get back to it. We were talking about luring them into the open and bleeding them with the Spooky?” I say.

  “I don’t really see any other way. I feel like heading into the
jungle to hunt them would be throwing away any advantage we have,” Greg comments. “The foliage is too thick to be effective with the Spooky.”

  “And actually going into their lair, into confined quarters with the abilities they have, wouldn’t be to our advantage either,” Gonzalez says.

  “I happen to agree. Normally, I’d be all over going in stealthily, but I don’t see that working well in this situation. That’s even if we managed to find their lair, and assuming they have just one. So, we can lure them out and, if we can’t outright kill them, they’ll be weakened and forced to feed. That will probably mean setting up a secondary trap and hitting them before they can feast, or going after them. The question is, are they smart enough to be wary of a second lure? Vladmir mentioned somewhere that feeding would be their priority. Another question is whether they’ll stay on their current path or turn and find somewhere else to feed.” I state. “And without being able to track them via satellite, how will we know until they’ve already found victims? And then we’d be stuck having to do it all over again.”

  “We could tag them,” Denton mentions.

  “That’s an interesting thought,” Lynn says.

  “It would have to be an internal tag delivered with a penetrating dart,” Denton adds.

  “Won’t those just be destroyed from the firepower of the gunship?” McCafferty asks.

  “Probably. But the way I’m seeing it, we’d only need to have one survive,” Denton says.

  “True, especially if they stay in a single pack like they’ve shown,” I comment. “Lynn, can we get something like that on short notice?”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “That will solve keeping an eye on their direction for a possible secondary ambush. But, we should also keep in mind that all of the tags might be destroyed through the Spooky’s ministrations,” I respond.

  “I’ll check to see if we can armor them up in some way without interfering with the signal,” Lynn replies.

  “How about digging a deep trench at the ambush site and trapping them in it until the sun comes up? Or just dropping grenades into it?” Henderson suggests.

  “I like the concept, but I also see it taking more time than we have. We’d have to drop in equipment and develop it. It’s going to be difficult enough evacuating the town in time. If we’re going the route of setting up an ambush prior to the city, we’ll need to start that process today,” Lynn says.

  “Does anyone have a high-intensity flashlight handy?” I ask.

  “Well, that’s not out of left field,” Gonzalez says. “But, I have one that’s around 900-plus lumens. Will that work?”

  I nod and have the lights and projector turned off. We’re still able to see enough to test an idea.

  “Okay, shine it directly on me,” I say, squinting in anticipation of being blinded.

  A bright light flares and is instantly dimmed. I can’t see quite as well as I could before, but I still make out the team sitting around the table and objects along the walls. There is a faint orb of brightness coming from Gonzalez.

  “Well, shit. It was worth a try,” I comment.

  “What?” Lynn asks.

  I have Gonzalez shine the light at each of them, with the exception of Cyrus. I’m almost sure he has taken the strigoi essence, but no use blinding him if he opted out.

  “Oh, that’s a neat trick,” Gonzalez comments when she shines it on herself.

  “I thought perhaps with the way their vision was set up, we could blind them with stadium lights or something like aircraft landing lights. But, that idea is a no go, as the vision appears to be quiet adaptive,” I say, as the lights come back on.

  “So, we’re back to luring them into an open feeding ground and weakening them, hoping that the trackers survive so we can hit any remaining before they feed. If they retreat back into the jungle, they could feed on the wildlife there. That might precipitate us going after them.”

  “Can’t the Spooky just follow them instead of us going in?”

  “It can, but if we destroy the trackers without being assured of taking down the entire pack, we’ll be back to square one.”

  I wonder if we’re even heading down the right path. If any vampires escape the ambush and head back into the dense jungle slopes, there’s probably enough food in there for them to recover. Now, Vladmir said animal blood isn’t as effective, but it would be effective enough for them to recover. So, if we hit them and they disappear, all we’d have done is keep them from the populated area for a time. Now, the Spooky can put down a tremendous amount of firepower and I’m having a difficult time imagining anything walking away from what it can do. But, these things can instantly heal and their priority will be to retreat to recover.

  “This is frustrating as hell,” Henderson says, voicing my thoughts.

  “I suppose we don’t have access to tactical nukes, right?” I ask Cyrus.

  “Foreign country, remember,” he answers. “Plus, the use of nukes will raise a few eyebrows.”

  I do note he didn’t outright say “no.” I’m tempted to ask if he actually can bring that kind of resource to bear or if he’s just trying to be all mysterious. I see the others looking at him askance.

  “We could direct the path of their retreat so they don’t go back into the jungle,” McCafferty says, moving her gaze from Cyrus. “Once we hit them, we could direct the Spooky into their path.”

  “And maybe line the escape routes with claymores. Enough explosives can solve any problem,” Denton adds.

  “Well, let’s see what we’re looking at,” I say, spreading a detailed terrain map of the region across the table along with satellite photos.

  There are mostly clear pastures surrounding the town that abut dense foliage flowing downward from mountainous ridgelines. Knowing the general direction of travel from the reports of mutilations, we’re able to guess the likely places where the strigoi will emerge. The satellite footage reveals a couple herds of cattle in the fields along the line of advance, making our jobs a little easier.

  The one very important aspect is that we’ll have to hit them after they feed. If we hit them immediately after they emerge, that will leave a ready blood supply with which they can recuperate. So, we’ll have to lead some of the cows away, leaving only enough for them to find and feed on. Now, we’re also under the gun, time-wise, so whatever we decide, it will have to be soon.

  In the end, without any other real choice, we decide on our killing field to lure the vampires in. We’ll let them feed and tag them immediately afterward, then direct the Spooky in. The jungle edge of the field will be lined with claymores to discourage that avenue of retreat. If we can keep them in the open and let the Spooky bleed them dry, and if at least one tracker survives should they manage to retreat, our job should be fairly easy, lying along the embankment of an irrigation channel dug along the fields on the town side and directing the gunship runs.

  “So, to summarize, we’ll stake some of the cows in this field, draw the vampires in, tag them after feeding, and hit them hard. If any survive to retreat toward the jungle, we blow the line of claymores. If any live through that and we can hopefully still track them, we’ll discuss options at that point,” I brief.

  Turning to Cyrus, I continue. “Now, this is certain to go to shit. All plans do. So, I want a Blackhawk on standby. I’ll be honest in saying that I don’t give a rat’s ass about some press photographer taking a picture of a vampire. We’ll do our best, but it’s this team I care about, and if we get into trouble, I want us pulled out. Besides, if they get through us, that photographer will get his shot anyway, although it might be the last shot of his or her life. I will not have this team sacrificed.”

  “I knew we chose correctly,” Cyrus says, rising to leave. “The resources you’ve been shown are yours to use however you will.”

  “Lynn, you’ll see to those trackers and the claymores we’ll need,” I say, as Cyrus closes the door.

  “As
with the other supplies, they’ll be here in the morning. The evacuation of the town will begin within hours, the tents and personnel arriving and blockade set. A quarantine will cover the area. I expect it will take twenty-four hours until it’s fully implemented,” Lynn says.

  “Can the supplies be delivered to Creech instead of here?”

  Lynn nods.

  “Then, let’s stage at Creech and be ready to go. We’ll use a pre-dawn drop to stay out of sight and land just before first light. I have to imagine any strigoi in the area will have found shelter with the coming dawn. During the day, we’ll set up our ambush. We’ll be cutting this close, given their rate of travel. We stay smart and keep our wits, and we come back home. Questions?”

  No one says anything.

  We spend a few additional moments covering Escape and Evade routes and meetup locations. Walking back to my room, I hope this goes down as easy as it sounds. But, I know that nothing ever is. There are a few variables we can’t work around, and any one of them could tip the tables. If we lose tracking, we’ll be clueless as to what they’re doing. At the very best, we’ll be back at a reset point to wait for their reemergence. At the worst, well, they could absorb whatever the Spooky has to offer and come right at us as if we’d thrown feathers at them.

  Halfway to my room, I have a sudden thought and retreat back to locate Lynn. I tell her of these shark suits that have fine chainmail between layers of neoprene. They will not only partially hide the heat from our pulse, but will also create an additional barrier against being cut. Lynn says that she’ll see if there are any available and have them delivered.

  * * * * * *

  After loading up the supplies at Creech Air Force Base, we fly down to Miramar Marine Corps Air Station, the previous home of the Navy’s famous Top Gun School. Of course, it was a naval air station back then. Sitting in a hangar at the east end of the field, we don’t have much to do while we wait for events to unfold. The strigoi could emerge from the jungled heights at any time, but there is a pattern to the reported mutilations. Vladmir had mentioned days between feedings, but it’s possible that some mutilations went unreported, or they could have fed off the jungle animals.