by Will Hill
You can do this, he told himself.
Carefully, he prised the man’s head from the tarmac. It came free with a horrible tearing sound, leaving a thick patch of hair glued to the ground with blood.
Matt’s stomach churned as he slowly pushed the head forward. Beneath the blood-soaked skin, the skull felt like a broken eggshell; like a hundred small pieces of bone moving beneath his fingers. He took a deep breath and pushed the syringe into the back of John Bell’s neck, where it met his shoulders. There was an audible crack as the thick needle pierced the spinal column, a crack that caused Matt to retch, violently. He coughed, spat out the saliva that had flooded his mouth, and drew the plunger back. Spinal fluid, thin and clear, spurted into the chamber of the syringe. Matt pulled until it was half full, then withdrew the needle and placed it in his bag with the vials and dishes and instruments. He took a couple of long, shallow breaths, then crawled back out from under the truck.
At the corner of the block, Simmons, Landsman and Andrews were squared up to the emergency services. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once, either at each other or into radios and phones, trying to establish exactly who was in charge of the gruesome scene that had played out on a busy San Francisco street as the evening drew in. Danny Lawrence was standing on his own on the pavement; Matt emerged, he reached down a hand and pulled him to his feet.
“Get everything you need?” he asked.
Matt nodded.
“Good,” said Danny, and forced a thin smile. “We’re getting out of here. I’m going to take you to the lab at USF and you can get on with your work. That sound OK?”
Matt frowned. “What about the others?”
“I’ll send the car back,” said Danny. “Don’t worry about them. What’s in your bag is the priority.”
“Are you sure?” asked Matt.
“I’m positive,” said Danny. “They’ll be fine. Local cops, paramedics, nothing they can’t handle. Come on.”
Matt followed Danny to the SUV. Behind him, someone shouted that they better not dare leave, because nobody was going anywhere until someone came up with some damn answers, but he ignored the voice; he was tired, and his heart hurt.
Matt settled on to the back seat of the car as Danny climbed into the front and told their driver to go. The car pulled away from the kerb and accelerated, quickly leaving behind the chaos that Matt, at least in part, had caused. He tried to process it all, to begin to rationalise what had happened and his role in it, but couldn’t; his mind was too full of horror.
As the car headed north, Matt clutched his bag tightly and closed his eyes. He wondered whether he would ever be able to forget the sight of John Bell spinning through the evening air, his face wearing an expression of victory as his lifeblood sprayed out of him.
He doubted it.
The wail of the Loop’s general alarm tore through the base, thumping into Kate Randall’s head and jerking her out of a dream in which she could fly.
She sat bolt upright and forced her gummy eyes open, grimacing at the deafening noise. The digital clock glowed steadily on her bedside table: 05:13.
Quarter past five in the morning, she thought. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
Kate swung her legs out of bed, staggered across her quarters, and dragged her uniform down from its hook on the back of the door. She had managed to get one leg into the black jumpsuit when the alarm cut out, leaving behind a high ringing echo. A second later her boss’s voice filled the Loop, emerging from the speakers that nestled in the upper corners of every room in the base.
“Attention,” said Paul Turner. “Security Division, report at once to your Code Blue stations.”
Code Blue, thought Kate, as she hauled her uniform past her hips and over her shoulders. Perimeter breach.
She zipped herself up, and was splashing cold water on to her face in an attempt to wake herself up when her console beeped. She fumbled for it with clumsy hands and thumbed its screen into life.
FROM: Turner, Major Paul (NS303, 36-A)
TO: Randall, Lieutenant Kate (NS303, 78-J)
Meet me in the hangar ASAP.
Kate opened the door to her quarters and stepped out into the corridor. Several of her neighbours were standing in their doorways, their faces screwed up with tiredness and concern. A few raised their eyes enquiringly as she passed, but she merely shrugged and kept walking.
On Level 0, Kate exited the lift and saw Operators from her Division had taken up their stations outside the double doors that led into the hangar. She nodded at them, showed them the message from the Security Officer, and they stepped aside.
The hangar was never entirely silent, especially not in the early hours of the morning when Operational Squads were returning from Patrol Responds. But it was quiet as she walked towards Paul Turner, her boots clicking loudly on the concrete floor. Her commanding officer was standing beside one of the black SUVs that were parked against the long, curving wall, his face as expressionless as ever. He nodded curtly as she stopped before him.
“Morning,” he said.
Kate smiled. “Good morning, sir. Sleep well?”
Turner’s lips curled fractionally at the edges. “Absolutely,” he said. “For about an hour. You?”
“The same,” said Kate. “What’s going on, sir?”
“Perimeter breach at sector 7G,” said Turner. “Our Operators on the fence have contained it, but I need to check it out. You’re coming with me.”
Kate nodded. “Yes, sir. What was the source of the breach?”
“You’ll see,” said Turner, and opened the SUV’s passenger door. “Get in.”
Kate did as she was told. Turner climbed behind the wheel, guided the vehicle out of the hangar, then accelerated along the long road that bisected the wide circular grounds of the base.
Up close, the perimeter of the Loop was a blinding array of light and movement. On the other side of the inner fence and the manned guard posts, an impenetrable grid of lasers moved as if of their own accord, a halting dance of bright red beams. Beyond the outer fence, which stood more than six metres tall and was topped with coils of vicious-looking razor wire, was the exclusion zone, a fifteen-metre border that ran between the fence and the surrounding forest. The exclusion zone was monitored by a myriad of hidden cameras and sensors, and illuminated by the purple beams of hundreds of ultraviolet lights, rendering it impassable to vampires.
Unless they fly over it, thought Kate. The radar blanket is supposed to catch them if they do, but it didn’t seem to help when Valeri arrived with his army.
In truth, Kate had harboured concerns about the perimeter since before she had joined the Security Division; she was sure that it acted as a compelling deterrent, but she did not believe it was capable of actually preventing a vampire, or vampires, from gaining access to the base. Major Turner had agreed with her, somewhat to her surprise, but had refused her permission to research ways to improve the system.
“There’s no way we can wall off the entire sky,” he had said. “You saw what Valeri did here, and to the SPC in Polyarny. Better to assume that they’ll get in if they’re determined, and concentrate on what happens then.”
A thick concrete fence post passed the car’s window, with 7A printed on it in large black letters. Ahead of them, Kate could see a patch of darkness, where the red and purple lights were not shining.
7G, she thought.
Turner slowed the car, its bright headlights picking out a pair of Operators standing by the darkened section of fence, and brought it to a halt beside them. Kate climbed out and looked at sector 7G, but the darkness was total; she could see nothing.
“Lights,” said Turner.
“Yes, sir,” replied one of the Operators, and tapped the console in his hand.
There was a hum of electricity, then the maintenance lights that topped the inner fence rumbled to life and sector 7G was illuminated pale yellow.
Kate gasped.
Tangled in the razor wire at the top of the ou
ter fence was the body of a man. Twisted beneath him was a piece of carpet, and he was gripping a flag tightly in his dead hand. It had unfurled and was fluttering against the metal mesh; it read THE SUPERNATURAL ARE NOT MONSTERS. The man’s eyes stared emptily up at the sky, his mouth open in an eternal scream of pain. His body was covered in blood from where the razor wire had torn at his skin; it had stained the metal links of the fence and pooled on the ground below. Kate followed the crimson streak downwards, her stomach churning, and saw the second body.
The second man had made it over the outer fence and was lying on his back in the space usually occupied by the laser array. One of his legs was visibly broken, snapped horribly at mid-thigh, but that was not the worst that had befallen the dead man, not what made Kate suddenly fear she was going to be sick. His body and face were criss-crossed with terrible burns, lines of seared black skin that ran in merciless straight lines; one of them had cut across his left hand, leaving nothing more than a charred stump, while another had burned away his lips, revealing yellowing teeth. The man was lying in a pool of crimson, his ruined face turned towards the inner fence. With slowly dawning horror, Kate saw that the man’s eyes had been burned out of his skull; the empty sockets stared at her, red and raw.
“Jesus,” she said, her voice low and trembling, then turned to the Security Officer standing impassively beside her. “What the hell happened here?”
Turner looked at her. “You tell me,” he said. “It seems pretty clear.”
Kate took a deep breath and returned her gaze to the two corpses. She tried to look at the gruesome scene dispassionately, to concentrate on narrative rather than spilled blood and pain, and quickly saw that the Security Officer was right; it was horribly clear what had happened.
“The two of them somehow got past the sensors and the cameras and to the edge of the exclusion zone,” she said. “They were hurrying, because they must have known they would be seen when they crossed it, so they climbed the fence and used that carpet to try and get over the razor wire. One made it, but he fell and broke his leg, so he couldn’t get out of the way of the lasers. They burned him to death, or the shock killed him, I don’t know. The other man saw what happened, and tried to get over the fence to help, but slipped off the carpet. The razor wire tangled him and cut his throat. Does that sound about right?”
“It does to me,” said Turner, then addressed the Operator who had turned on the lights. “Is that what happened?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “I killed the power when the man fell, but the lasers take ten seconds to shut down. I was in attendance ninety seconds later, but they were both already dead, sir.”
“You went in and checked?” asked Turner.
“Yes, sir,” said the Operator. “There’s a maintenance break right there.” He pointed, and Kate followed his gesture. Set into the concrete pillar with 7G printed on it was a metal door, its handle flush with the surface.
I never knew that, thought Kate. Never knew there was a way beyond the fence. Although of course there would have to be.
“How did they get so close without tripping any of the sensors?” asked Turner.
“Luck?” said the Operator. “They’ve been spreading out through the forest since they arrived, walking and shouting and singing. The police have been in there a dozen times to turn them back.”
“I’m aware of that,” said Turner, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Given that I’m the Security Officer. I was specifically asking about these two.”
The Operator nodded. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know how they got through the sensors.”
“Find out,” said Turner. “If they’ve mapped them, move them. But first, get the bodies out of there. I want them examined in the infirmary, then released to their families. I’ll have the security-camera footage leaked to the media.”
Kate frowned. “Sir?”
“They won’t run it,” said Turner. “But it’ll be on the internet within an hour. I want everyone to see what happens to people who try to break in here. Maybe it will dissuade anyone else from being so stupid.”
That’s clever, thought Kate. Cold, but very clever.
“I need a ladder, sir,” said the Operator.
“I’m sorry?” said Turner.
“I need a ladder to get the body down from the wire.”
“And?” said Turner. “Do you want me to build one for you? Call the hangar and have an engine brought out, for God’s sake.”
The Operator took the radio from his belt and spoke rapidly into it. Kate watched him for a second, then turned to the Security Officer.
“From the protest camp?” she said, gesturing towards the bodies.
“I would expect so,” said Turner. “Bloody stupid way to get yourself killed, but I suppose you have to admire it.”
“Really?” asked Kate.
Turner shrugged. “They risked their lives for something they believed was worthwhile. Does that remind you of anyone we know?”
Kate smiled, and nodded. She watched the Security Division Operators let themselves through the access door and into the space between the fences as behind her, from the direction of the hangar, she heard the rumble of an approaching engine. The Operators unrolled a black plastic bag and laid it on the ground beside the man whose burns had shocked her so badly; she looked away as they lifted his lifeless body on to it and began to zip it shut.
“This is going to happen again, isn’t it?” she said, her voice low.
“I’m sorry?” said Turner.
“Maybe not this exact thing,” said Kate. “But something like it. Then something else will happen, and something else after that. It’s going to get out of hand.”
Turner nodded. “It’s already getting out of hand,” he said. “I don’t know how much longer we can control the situation.” He pulled his console from his belt, unlocked it with his thumb, and held it out to Kate.
She took it from his gloved fingers and looked at the screen. Filling it were thumbnails of the pages of two police reports. She tapped the first image as Paul Turner continued to speak.
“Intelligence received those overnight,” he said. “Three civilian deaths, all involving the suspicion of vampirism. Two teenagers, both identifying as Goth, beaten to death in a park in Guildford yesterday evening. One of the attackers was a schoolmate of the deceased, another a neighbour.”
Kate felt cold creep through her. On the screen of the console, school photographs of the murdered teenagers stared at her with heavily made-up eyes.
“Paul Whates,” she said. “Amy Underwood. They were the same age as me, sir. Both of them.”
“I know,” said Turner.
“Someone killed them because they like to dye their hair and wear eyeliner?”
“Someone killed them because they thought they were vampires,” said Turner. “I honestly don’t know if that’s better or worse.”
“There’s no better here, sir,” said Kate, tearing her gaze away from the photos to look her commanding officer in the eye. “There are only degrees of worse.”
Turner nodded. “I agree,” he said. “People are scared, and they’re starting to turn on each other. And there’s nothing we can do that’s going to make any difference, apart from coming up with a cure or killing every vampire on the planet. Do you see either of those things happening quickly enough?”
“No,” said Kate, her heart heavy in her chest. “I don’t.”
“Neither do I,” said Turner. “I’d love nothing more than to be wrong, for your friend Matt and the rest of Lazarus to make this all go away, or for the Romania team to bring us something back we can destroy Dracula with. But I’m not holding my breath on either count.”
Kate frowned, as something slotted together in her mind. The team that was to search for the first victim had been despatched the previous evening, and she had not seen Jamie since the Zero Hour meeting the morning before that, had not seen Larissa since their breakfast shortly afterwards, and had not laid eyes on Ma
tt for days, possibly weeks.
Probably just coincidence, she thought. But if not …
“Sir,” she said. “Do you know where my friends are?”
Turner narrowed his eyes. “Which ones in particular?” he asked.
“Matt,” she said. “And Larissa, and Jamie.”
“Yes,” said Turner. “I know where they are.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
The Security Officer’s eyes narrowed even further, and Kate braced herself to be told no. Then Turner sighed, and shook his head as a tiny smile appeared on his face.
“I shouldn’t,” he said. “It’s all classified above Zero Hour. But I trust you. And that’s not a mistake on my part, right?”
“No,” said Kate, instantly. “You can trust me, sir.”
Turner nodded. “Jamie and Larissa were selected by NS9 to be part of DARKWOODS,” he said. “Which is the mission to search for the first victim, acting on Grey’s intelligence. They’re in Romania as we speak. And Matt is in America, the Lazarus Project observer on GARDEN OF EDEN, an operation designed to locate the man known as Adam, a vampire who was allegedly cured. And before you ask, I have no updates on how any of them are doing. That’s all the information I have.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Kate.
Her heart was swelling with pride at the thought of what her friends were doing, of how vital the two operations were to the future not just of Blacklight, but of everything.
I’m not even surprised, she thought. Somehow they always end up at the centre of everything.
“So what do we do, sir?” she asked.