by R. Lee Moore
She stalked silently up the stairs opposite her original course and started hugging the wall down the second floor walkway. Most of the windows on this level had been blocked off or obscured, but she could clearly hear the sounds of habitation. Those few times she could peer inside one of the units she was able to confirm that fact. The apartments were filled with men and women engaged in various mundane activities. None of it looked all that special, but every once in a while Tamina was able to see the glint of gunmetal peeking out from beneath clothing. Whoever these people were, Tamina thought, they were armed to the teeth.
Most of them looked like your run-of-the-mill heavily tattooed gang banger types, but every so often Tamina caught a glimpse of something else. There were a few mixed in that stood out in stark contrast to the whole street level vibe most of the occupants gave off.
It wasn't just the way they dressed with their expensive shirts and jewelry, it was the way they held themselves. Both the men and the women she could see had this aura of confidence and strength around them. They were clearly in charge, that much was obvious, but their entire demeanor put Tamina in mind of something wholly inhuman. They had the looks of predators. It was a miracle that none of them noticed her or picked up on her scent as she passed them by.
That might have been because of whatever the old woman had sprayed her with, but that was unlikely. She couldn't smell anything, and to her knowledge there wasn't much out there that could block out the heightened senses of a werewolf for long enough to matter.
When Tamina finally made her way to the unit the old woman had indicated, all the windows had been completely blocked off. There was no way to see inside that she could tell without actually breaching the door. She gently jiggled the door handle, and was pleasantly surprised when it turned.
The door pushed inward slowly with a creak that sounded to Tamina as if it was screaming like a siren for all the world to hear. It made her freeze in her tracks instantly. She canted her head to the side to listen as closely as she could, and when she couldn't pick up any reaction to the creaking of the door, she felt herself scowling. Everything always seemed louder and more intense than it really was in these sorts of situations, Tamina told herself sourly. It never failed to make her jumpier than she should have been.
Making an effort to calm herself before proceeding, she nudged the door open a little more until she met sudden resistance. Her eyes swept up and down the crack in the door, and she noted with a considerable amount of annoyance that someone had chained the door from the inside. She wasn't going to be able to get in without kicking the door down. That probably wasn't going to be a good idea. At least not now.
The door wasn't open enough to get a clear view of the interior, but it was enough for her to peek inside and catch a small glimpse of the occupants. What she saw inside made her pulse skip. Her eyes hardened, and she felt her hand reflexively tightening on the grip of her sidearm. The interior was bare of any decorations or furniture. That was probably to free up space to give more room for what was inside.
There was a clutch of people, mostly women bound and naked huddling together on the floor. All of them had the same dead and lifeless looks in their eyes devoid of any hope or fear. Just a somber resignation of what was to come. She swept her eyes over them looking for anything that would stand out to her. Any sign that would tell her that these poor people were involved in what she was looking for.
Then she saw it. One of the women shifted slightly, just enough for Tamina to see a faint mark imprinted on the inside of her wrist. She scanned over the other prisoners more intently than she had before, checking to see if any of the others had the same mark. She had to be sure.
It was hard to tell, but Tamina thought she saw at least two others bearing the same mark. Hard to tell what it was from the distance and the position she was in, but she had this gut feeling she knew what she was looking at. If it was the same mark she'd seen on Amy Lynn and Albira Adams, these people weren't prisoners, they were merchandise the Cartel was setting aside.
Tamina took a step back to get her bearings and to try to tamp down the burning she could feel building inside her. She had to keep it together, she thought. It wouldn't help anyone to lose control of herself. Stepping back up to the door to take another look inside, she purposely ignored the people huddled in the front room. Looking at them would just bring an emotional response, she told herself, she had to remove all of that from the equation.
She strained herself trying to get a better look into the other areas of the apartment. The narrow opening and positioning of the door wasn't making it easy. She could see another barely open door deeper into the interior, and when she took a moment to concentrate and filter everything else out, she could hear what sounded like two voices beyond the door. One soft and whispering, the other a muffled sobbing and pleading as if from behind a gag.
Tamina pulled away sharply from the door, and quickly retreated back down the walkway to the stairs with a grim determination propelling her forward. She had to be careful and not draw any attention, but at the same time she was moving as rapidly as she could. The longer she was there, the more time she had to think and dwell on what she'd seen. The fire inside her was raging, but she'd locked it down mercilessly and had already begun replacing it with something colder, emotionless, and infinitely more useful.
She jogged back across the street to her car, holstered her sidearm, and peered inside the passenger side window.
“Call in a Strike Team,” she said coolly. “We have a situation.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
To his credit, Carson didn't hesitate before reaching for the radio Mic on the dashboard. By that time Tamina was already in the back of the Firebird popping the trunk open and rummaging around the arsenal inside. With the force that she was looking at inside the apartment complex, her sidearm wasn't going to be enough. She needed something heavier. Something that would inflict punishment and justice in equal measure.
“What am I calling in?” Carson's voice called out.
Tamina growled and poked her head out from behind the open trunk, and saw her partner's head sticking out the passenger window Mic in hand. The look in the man's eyes made her realize immediately that he wasn't questioning her judgment, he was looking for clarification.
“Human sacrifice, human trafficking, probably a whole host of other shit I didn't see,” Tamina said popping back around to get back into the truck. “Take your pick. Make sure they know it's a cartel hard-point. Twenty or so cartel, multiple werewolves. Tell them to roll heavy, don't need them to just send a few black and whites to get themselves killed.”
Tamina stripped off her jacket and shoulder rig, and tossed the both of them into the back of the trunk. They'd just get in her way, and the tactical vest she pulled out of one of the storage bins and began strapping on had more space for ammunition. When that was done, next came the gunslinger style hip holster that she jammed her Hardballer into. It was specially designed so that her sidearm set in position right at the level where her hands would naturally hang down. It made drawing that much easier and that much faster. Plus, it held several quick-loads within easy reach. In combat, that would be crucial.
She was busily loading magazines for her AR12 with alternating Wolfsbane slugs and phosphorous buckshot and jamming them into slots in her vest when Carson came around the corner. He paused when he saw what she was doing and everything in her trunk and gave a soft whistle at everything he was seeing.
“Got the call-out. ETA in about 20,” he said. “Wait. What are you doing? You're not thinking of going in there by yourself, are you? Of course you are. Why am I even asking?”
Tamina didn't bother to stop loading her magazines and putting them in place before answering. She had to move quick. Time was a factor.
“You didn't see what I saw in there. I'm not letting these people get away,” Tamina said. She still couldn't get the images, the horror out of her mind. “What do you think is going to happen once t
he Strykers start rolling down the streets? You think they don't have scouts out along the borders? You think they won't see us coming a mile away. Every time we've ever gone into the Varrio they've been waiting for us. Too many eyes out there on the street to take them by surprise.”
Carson vehemently shook his head.
“Wait for back up, sergeant,” he said firmly. “You'll get yourself killed if you go in there.”
“Not happening. “ Tamina said without looking up. “The moment these people realize what's coming for them, one of two things is going to happen. They'll run, in which case they'll be long gone before Ramirez and her Teams get here. Seen if before. Either that or they'll just go room to room and massacre all the people they've got holed up in there with them. Some of which I think have the same mark as our two murder victims.”
Tamina took a moment to collect herself. Just talking about it was throwing fuel on the fire. She could feel herself beginning to tremble from the rage threatening to boil over within her. She wasn't going to let that happen. They weren't going to get away. Not this time.”
“Chances are they'll do both, Carson,” she said under her breath as she continued arming herself. “The Cartels are involved somehow, and if I don't go in there, lock them down, and distract them long enough to give Ramirez time, they'll get away and all those innocent people in there are going to die. I'm not letting that happen. You do what you want, but I'm going in. With or without you.”
Carson didn't respond. Not at first. Tamina took her eyes off the task at hand just long enough to see the uncertainty in the man waver, then completely wash away and be replaced with a cold determination. Without a word, he stripped of his suit jacket and drew his weapon from the holster on his hip and began checking it.
“You got Wolfsbane?” Tamina asked. “How many mags you got?”
“No, and three,” Carson replied. “Wolfsbane isn't standard issue outside the Teams, you know that.”
Tamina scowled. What the man had wasn't going to be nearly enough to do the job.
“9mm or .45?” she asked.
“9mm,” Carson responded.
Tamina nodded her head to a metal case strapped along the side of the trunk.
“There are some boxes of Wolfsbane in there and a few spare mags that should fit,” she said going back to her loading. “There's an MP7 in the back. Grab it. Should have some reloads in there somewhere. Start loading up as many as you can. We ain't got much time.”
Carson didn't argue or hesitate, he just got to work, which was both surprising and more than welcome. He worked fast too, Tamina observed. He wasn't as fast as she was, but he knew what he was doing. It looked like he had quite a bit more experience than she would have thought, and not just out in the field. He'd been in combat before.
When Tamina loaded and stowed all the magazines she could, she slotted a pair of fragmentation grenades on each hip, and grabbed her AR12. She did a quick function check before slapping a magazine into the well. She was ready to go and just waiting for Carson to finish up.
“You got armor on under there?” she asked.
Carson tossed her an irritated look and a nod of his head.
“Standard procedure out in the field isn't it,” he said as he loaded a mag into the MP7 he held in his hands.
Motioning him away from back of the car, Tamina slammed her trunk shut and started her way back across the street. This time she didn't bother waiting until she was at the threshold to thumb the safety off her weapon. She clicked the shotgun's safety down once to semi-automatic fire and lifted it up into a ready position the moment she stepped onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road. Carson was a few steps behind her, sweeping front and right ahead of him while Tamina kept her attention to the front and left keeping out of each other's line of fire as they stalked forward.
When the two of them crossed into the courtyard, Tamina immediately saw two men casually strolling down the steps in front of her. They were armed, but they obviously hadn't been expecting anyone as their weapons were held out of position loosely off to their sides. Tamina didn't hesitate.
Instinct swung her weapon into position, and she stroked her trigger twice in quick succession. The slug of the first shot pounded into the first man's chest flinging him back off his feet and crashing back into the steps with a gaping cavernous hole ripped through his chest. The second shot engulfed his partner in a rushing wall of white-hot shot that set him ablaze and shredded him into an unrecognizable mass of burning flesh from the chest up.
“Watch left,” Tamina shouted.
She bolted up the stairs reaching for one of the frags at her hip only vaguely aware of the burst of gunfire thundering out from behind her followed by an agonized scream and the sound of a body tumbling over a balcony to the hard concrete below.
Tamina yanked the pin from the grenade free and lobbed it up the stairs ahead of her to the first door along the walkway of the second floor. She shouted out a warning to Carson and dropped down into the steps just beneath the blast area. The grenade bounced with metallic clinks on the concrete several times before it rolled to a stop the same moment the door flung open. The shock-wave from the explosion rippled and echoed through the tightly confined space. Shrieks and screams followed, but Tamina paid them no mind. She was already up and moving.
She raced up the last of the stairs, thumbing her selector switch to full auto as she ran. She crossed the threshold of the first unit and dumped her mag in a long stream of sustained fire into the stunned occupants. The combination of heavy slugs and flaming shot scythed through everyone in the room sending spraying mists of blood and shredded chunks of burning meat out in all directions until the room was a hellish inferno of flame and death.
Tamina spun around, dropping her magazine and quickly slamming a replacement in place as she exited the now burning apartment. She saw Carson crouched down behind the cinder block and sandbag fortifications hammering away with steady controlled bursts pelting out across the courtyard. On the other side, armed men and women were pouring out of the doors, frantically diving for cover under the hail of withering fire being directed at them.
“Keep moving,” Tamina roared out. “We have to get to the civilians.”
She charged down the walkway hosing down anyone stupid or unlucky enough to find themselves in her sights. All she was seeing was gangbangers. Low level soldiers, and there was a voice in the back of her mind that was screaming out in warning. She'd seen supernaturals during her quick scouting of the area, but all she was seeing now was humans. Half of the enemy force was missing. That couldn't be good.
As if on cue, a shower of plywood fragments and glass burst out from a window in front of her causing her to reflexively drop and turn away for cover. It was only instinct alone that made her turn back just as quickly and trigger a steady burst from her shotgun. The combination of slug and shot ripped through the gigantic mass of fur and teeth that burst out through the now sizable hole in the wall where the window had been.
As far as werewolves went, the massive full sized wolf wasn't anything special. It was still a hell of a lot bigger than she was, though. Patches of the beast's mocha colored fur were torn free from the flaming lead balls ripping into its body as it skittered sideways into the railing in front of her. The thick acrid smell of burnt flesh and animal fur exploded all around her. She could see wispy trails of smoke curling out from the beasts body as it snarled and charged into her.
The wolf was too fast for her to fully react in time. It was all she could do to bring her weapon up in front of her before that tooth filled maw clamped down on her. She was barely fast enough to skitter back in time. The wolf's jaws snapped and clamped viciously over the length of her shotgun. She strained to keep the weapon from being torn from her grasp as she was propelled backward from the sheer momentum slamming into her.
Its teeth weren't the only weapon at its disposal. As Tamina struggled with keeping her weapon in her hands, the beast surged forward with it
s paws slamming her down onto her back. Her breath left her as those massive paws hit her with enough force to rip a pain filled gasp from her lips. She swore she heard a crack of bone somewhere in the midst of the tearing sounds of the wolf's claws shredding her shirt and the vest beneath it down to the ceramic plates. She felt each and every swipe into her chest, but somehow the claws weren't able to penetrate. Either it was the odd angle she'd landed, the strength of the plates in her vest made with supernaturals specifically in mind, or a combination of both. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to last long. Sooner rather than later, the wolf was going to be digging into her chest and opening her all the way up.
It was relentless, never giving her a moments break to free herself from its assault. It was all she could do to keep defending herself. The sheer violence of it all straining her already injured body almost to the breaking point. She was dead in a matter of seconds if something didn't change.
Without warning the wolf howled in pain and staggered backward under the assault of round after round from heavy sustained automatic fire ripped through its body. Tamina didn't waste the opportunity she'd been given the moment the weight of the wolf lifted off her chest and released her weapon from its jaws. She snapped her AR12 back into combat position and glared daggers down the iron sights directly into the snarling face of the wolf that had been trying to kill her.
She held down her trigger for just long enough to watch the beasts entire face disintegrate in an explosion of flesh, blood, and bone beneath the withering assault of the shotgun's rapid fire. What was left dropped into a twitching heap in a pool of its own blood that seeped out from the multitude of wounds covering what remained of its body.
Once she was sure it was dead, Tamina turned to check on Carson. He'd swiveled back around and was busily pouring fire into another werewolf that had come bounding up the stairs with murderous intent. Carson's aim was true, but all the 4.6 rounds were doing was staggering and slowing the big animal down. Werewolves could be notoriously hard to kill with conventional weapons sometimes. Hell, it could take a lot even with Wolfsbane laced rounds.