Infinite Vampire (Book 3): Maelstrom

by M. Lorrox

  When no one yells or complains at the sudden invasion of privacy, she peeks her eyes over the clipboard, then she drops it with a sigh of relief. It takes mere seconds for her to find the ring on the table, and at first, she’s skeptical. She lifts it, sees the pile of reddish gold shavings, then sees the printouts of the ring—except with markings on it. NO WAY!

  She grabs everything as quickly and quietly as her pounding heart allows and stuffs it all into her bag. She pauses and listens at the door, and hearing nothing, she bolts out. Whew! The guys aren’t going to believe it, and that Lorenzo guy is gonna pay up big!

  All the vampires in the hospital—except Madeline, Tatsu, and Hamid—have assembled in the lounge area. Sadie stands on a chair so that everyone can see her in the cramped room. “Hello. Thank you for coming. I know many of you are still recovering and are tired, but this is very important.”

  “You said Prime Minister Zaman has been found?” Bruce Tittensor smiles. “This is good news. I think we could all use some good news.”

  “I agree, we could.” Hamid makes his way to the front with Tatsu’s help. Someone starts clapping. “Don’t.”

  They stop.

  Hamid reaches the front, Sadie steps off the chair, and he leans against her. “I am tired, and I will keep my comments short. What happened at the Pentagon was not an accident; it was an attack. Also, I was abducted from the site, but we still don’t know what has happened to Ms. Wollstone. These crimes... No. The tragedy of what happened at the Pentagon was orchestrated by some of our own.”

  He clears his throat. “Dr. Melgaard and one of his assistants murdered the innocent men and women at the Pentagon. They were also a part of the plot to blow up the hotel. Lastly…it so pains me to say this...” He rubs his eyes. “High Councilor Robert Flaxman was working with them.”

  A murmur arises from the gathered vampires. Some, though, stand silent with their mouths open in shock. Philip Simonsen closes his eyes and winces. Oh Robert, how could you?

  “I interrogated him, with the Elder Costanza listening in. I’d like her to summarize what we’ve learned. Elder Costanza?”

  She swallows. “I heard Robert confess to not only knowing about the attempted bombing, but also to being the one who orchestrated it. He said he sought out the would-be bombers, and while wearing contact lenses and pretending to be human, he set the plot in motion. He connected the bombers to Dr. Melgaard’s accomplice—Michael Turner—who supplied them with the detonator.” She loses focus for a moment and sees the image of Michael standing over June’s ravaged body, Eddy screaming at him, and then Rusty eating Michael’s face. Rusty…

  Bruce moves closer to Sadie. “What about what happened at the Pentagon? And why was the prime minister abducted?”

  Sadie nods. “Robert said he knew that the ‘vaccine’ was actually a hyper-aggressive and fast-acting strain of the zombie virus that the doctor had cultivated. Robert said he was alerted that it was going to be released in the Pentagon this afternoon, and that was why he left early for his offsite meeting.”

  Eliza Leroux sighs. “Mrs. Costanza, you left too. What coincidence is that?”

  She shrugs. “I was asked to present information about the joint military operation—the one my husband led, the one that Dr. Melgaard sabotaged—and I left to prepare for that presentation. It turns out that while I was working, Dr. Melgaard kidnapped a member of my family, and she is now dead.” Sadie’s eyes leak tears, but she doesn’t wipe them. “If I had stayed, I might have been able to stop him and Michael from...” She shakes her head and wipes her eyes. “I watched Michael die, and for his deeds, I will see Dr. Melgaard dead, too.”

  …I hope you succeed. Eliza nods.

  Sadie looks around the room, and Bruce catches her eye. “What else, Sadie?”

  She clears her throat. “With the prime minister and the High Council out of the way—either by the bombing or by the zombies at the Pentagon—Robert was going to seize control of the Order. He said that abducting the prime minister and Ms. Wollstone was a backup plan in case they somehow survived, against all odds.”

  Philip leans his back against the wall and shakes his head. Robert was trying to recruit me... I guess I was half right: he was preparing to take the prime minister role, but instead of using politics, he was doing this…

  Vincent de Villablino clears his throat. “Why abduct them if they were to be killed? And where were they to be taken? Robert is here. Or, he was in—”

  Sadie is quick to respond. “To quote Robert: ‘You were supposed to die’—he’s talking to Zaman—‘but if you lived, the doctor wanted you.’ Robert said that he assumed Hamid and Mary would be taken to a facility Dr. Melgaard and the group he’s a part of has been building in New Zealand.”

  Philip leans off the wall. “That, at least, makes sense.”

  Everyone turns to face him.

  “Robert has made a few trips to New Zealand over the last year, and he’s asked me to come with him. He wouldn’t say why he was going, but he said that if I went, it would open my eyes to possibilities never before imagined. I never went with him though… What’s the group you mentioned?”

  Væir. Hamid coughs. “Pardon me. These matters should be discussed more in private, but there is something that must be addressed immediately. I’ve been informed that in my and Ms. Wollstone’s absence, Elder Sadie Costanza was voted in as an interim high councilor. Now that I am back, I am going to cancel that appointment.”

  Sadie tries to maintain a neutral and a not downright-confused facial expression. What?

  “She would be a fine addition to the High Council, and I have no doubt that she would have served the Order well in that role. The issue is me. I am not fit—mentally or physically—to continue being your prime minister. I intend to resign after I appoint the Elder Costanza…to be the interim prime minister.”

  Sadie blows her cover and reveals her complete shock. Her hand reaches for the back of the chair beside her, and it helps her to remain standing. James and Bruce smile, Vincent is confused, Eliza sighs loudly, and Philip nods. Everyone else murmurs.

  Sadie shakes her head. “Sir, I don’t think that is—”

  “It is NOT up for discussion. Where are the remaining members of the High Council?”

  They each step—or in Vincent’s case, is pushed in a wheelchair—forward. “Find two suitable elders to stand in as interim high councilors, and as a personal favor to me, do what you can to help the Elder Costanza in this difficult time.” He nods his head in a bow, and the high councilors return the gesture. He turns to Sadie. “I’m sorry to have done this without asking you. I beg that you and your family accept my apology.”

  She shakes her head and twitches her mouth, not finding any words. Then she looks out to find Eddy. All she needs to do is look for the only person smiling like an idiot. She purses her lips at him, and he forces his smile away.

  Hamid closes his eyes and takes a full, deep breath. “I, Hamid ibn al Zaman, do hereby appoint Elder Sadie Costanza as my replacement, as interim prime minister of the Vampire Order, to fulfil the duties of that position until a vote for a new prime minister can be held. Do you accept this responsibility, Elder Costanza?”

  Her head travels up and down in a movement similar to a nod. “I…um…”

  Hamid finishes her sentence for her. “Do… You do. Right?”

  She nods repeatedly. “You do. I mean, yes! I do!”

  Hamid looks out over the gathered crowd, then to the high councilors gathered before him. “High Council, do you recognize Elder Costanza as the interim prime minister?”

  They all take a brief pause, then respond. “We do.”

  “I hereby resign my position. Effective immediately. I wish you all well, but now…” A tear breaks free from the eyes thought to be the strongest, sharpest, and most steadfast in the entire Order. “Now, I must go. Thank you.” He wipes his face, and he calls Tatsu back over to him. He leans on the knight’s shoulder, and he walks out of the loung
e.

  Someone starts to clap, and others join. He smiles, and the new creases in his cheeks divert his tears to the side.

  After he leaves, all eyes are on Sadie.

  She swallows. “I... I think I should meet with the High Council.” She walks over to Raúl Lucas, who opens his arms for her, and she accepts them as a hug. What the hell just happened?

  Vincent waves a hand in the air. “Everyone, hear me! Elders, please meet with me and the High Council in my room, 1411, in thirty minutes. Everyone else, you are dismissed.” He spins his wheelchair to face Eliza, who throws her hands up in frustration.

  “Vincent, this is the most absurd thing I could have imagined.”

  “I know, I’d never have thought that Robert could have turned against us.”

  That’s… Yeah. That’s what I meant... “Where is he, anyway?”

  Vincent shrugs. “Honestly, I hope he’s dead. Otherwise, it would be my responsibility to have him killed.”

  Oh boy. Master Sergeant Vega rubs the back of his neck while Marine One takes off with the president. On the ground behind him are the three mechs the DC Wicked Wrenches built. The machines that have cabs, have them open, and the three pilots all beam with their biohazard helmets held at their side. Felipe waves, and the fifteen-foot-tall exo-suit he is wearing/is riding in named Tiny Tim mimics his movements and waves a giant arm with steel claws.

  Not to be outdone, Kevin, inside The Edward—the mech with four articulated legs and saws on each arm—spins up the four-foot-long trencher blade. Although initial designs called for scissor-like, crisscross-cutting samurai swords for each of The Edward’s hands, the team ultimately decided to go in a different direction. The trencher’s inclusion on The Edward was instead inspired by a certain legendary hero named Ash, who wielded a chainsaw for an arm while battling evil that happened to be dead, too.

  Boys. Rosie in Lynxie-Lou jolts the bush-hog mechanism that is retrofitted onto the bulldozer’s loader arms up and down, rattling the whole machine on its tank treads. “Raise da roof!”

  Vega sighs and shakes his head with his eyes closed. When he opens his eyes, he intends to turn and cram discipline down these three amateur warriors’ neck-holes, but instead, he sees the remnants of his squad running his way. They arrive and can barely believe their eyes.

  Jenkins points. “Did I die and wake up inside an anime?”

  Vega smiles. “If I say yes, will that mean you’ll both fight like marines on a mission that came straight from the president?”

  “OOHRAH!” Both Jenkins and Robertson fall into line.

  “Thought so.” Vega extends an arm out to the mechs. “Corporal Jenkins, Staff Sergeant Robertson, meet the United States Marine Corps’ newest recruits; Privates Felipe Santos, Kevin Macrae, and Rosie Fiala…of the First National Mech Brigade.” He shakes his head. “Under direct authority of the president of the United States.”

  Felipe waves the giant arm again. “Hello.”

  Vega clears his throat. “These three were on their way into DC, past the quarantine, to kill zombies and save civilians. The president wants us to help. I figure we can ride and add some firepower to their...uh, robo-power.”

  Rosie grins while biting her bottom lip. Robo-power. I like that.

  Vega points loosely to the mechs. “There’s three of us and three of them. We can each take point on one mech. The tall one is the least protected, so I’ll take that one. Robertson, you take the spidery wheeled one, and Jenkins, I want you on Mr. tank-treads over here.

  Rosie frowns. “A: she’s a lady. B: her name is Lynxie-Lou… Sir.”

  Jenkins clears his throat. “Sir? How are we supposed to get past the automated turrets?”

  Vega swallows. “I asked the president that same question, and I’ll give you the same answer. I don’t know, but we’re going to find a way.”

  Robertson raises his M4 carbine and looks at it. “I’m regretting not grabbing one of those RPGs.”

  Vega shrugs. “We’ll just have to make do. We have an otherwise straightforward mission: get in there and do some good. NOW WHO’S WITH ME?”

  The six of them, now all marines, answer together, “OOHRAH!”

  Vega smiles, hiding his reservations. Let’s hope we make it back out of there, too.

  After a couple minutes of brainstorming how they will actually ride the mechs, they put their plans into action.

  Felipe holds the arms of Tiny Tim in a manner that allows Vega to climb up, and Vega sits on the machine’s shoulder-like structure. He wraps his ankles around support beams, and he’s pleased that he’s never been motion sick.

  Robertson finds foot holds on the back of The Edward near hydraulic reservoirs, and he uses a bit of cording to wrap around the mech and through the straps on his chest rig to hold him on. For a split-second, he considers wrapping his fist in like a bull rider would, but he thinks better of it because he’ll need both his hands free to switch magazines later.

  Jenkins has the option of either sitting on top of Lynxie-Lou’s cab—and getting a face full of zombie mulch—or riding inside the cab with Rosie. He gladly squeezes next to the curvy woman in her thirties. He clears his throat. “Hi... When we get past the quarantine, I can hop out and find a firing position. Thanks for letting me ride until then.”

  Rosie has given up on giving shits, and her brown eyes shine as she takes her time appreciating the young marine’s physique. “My pleasure.”

  To Lynxie-Lou’s side is The Edward and ahead, Tiny Tim. Felipe looks up toward the marine straddled above him. “Vega, right? Ready to go?”

  “Yup.” He taps twice on the metal near his crotch. Felipe starts walking, Tiny Tim’s legs track his motions, and the stabilizing wheels roll smoothly in the middle.

  The others follow. As they approach the north border of the quarantine line, they stop twenty-five feet outside the defocused, five-hundred-foot-radius, red-laser-painted kill zone. Vega raises his rifle, judges the distance, and takes aim at the device that until now, he’s only seen diagrams of. Damn, Robertson wasn’t kidding. An RPG would really help.

  Robertson lowers his rifle. “Sir, what do you think? Shoot out the eyes?”

  Vega shakes his head. “It has target acquisition cameras all around it, but the LIDAR targeting system is in line with the gun, which is facing away from us... I’m not sure what the best course is, honestly.”

  “They’ve got batteries and generators, right? So maybe we can blow the fuel?”

  Vega recalls the blueprint he saw at the Pentagon Field Command Center. “All that’s internal, shielded at the very bottom. We’d run our ammo supply too low just to get through the armor. We have grenades, but we’re at least a hundred yards too far out to reach it.”

  Felipe waves one of the long metal arms in the air. “Think this arm can throw farther?”

  Vega’s eyes widen. “That’s probably the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life. We will absolutely NOT be trying that.

  Felipe lowers the arm. “NO, would have sufficed.”

  Vega taps the metal he sits on again. “Sorry, but if the grenade accidentally drops below us, we’d both be in the kill range.” He frowns at the automated turret. “Robertson, take aim. When the gun swings our way, open up, and let’s hope we can knock it out before it fires.”

  Robertson shakes his head. “I know we’re losing time, but there has to be another way.”

  “You’re right; we’re losing time and people are dying. Unless you have a better idea, we’re pushing in.”

  “Alright. I’ll be ready.”

  Jenkins hops out of Lynxie-Lou’s cab. “Me too, sir. If we take it out, I’ll get back in.”

  “Good. When the gun spins, open up on the top of that beast... Forward!”

  On the rooftop of a large and sprawling apartment complex on the corner of M Street NW and North Capitol Street, a specialist on Corporal Clyde Wilson’s LG6 team runs screaming toward the command post they have at M Street NW and 1st Place NW. “Wilson!
We’ve got a problem!”

  Clyde stands up with his carbine and adjusts his glasses. “Zombies attacking Marine One? I thought I heard it take back off?”

  “No, sir. A group is approaching our unit on North Capitol with weaponry.”

  “Shit. Show me!” He runs and jumps over a small gap between buildings, and the specialist leads him to the roof overlooking North Capitol Street.

  “Those are…robots?”

  “I guess, but they’re about to cross into the kill zone.”

  “They better stop.”

  “If they don’t?”

  Clyde raises his gun. “Fire on my command.”

  Tiny Tim is only a stride and a half from entering the kill zone, and Vega takes a deep breath while raising his rifle. He and the other marines had set their guns’ sights for the distance, and now it’s time to spray and pray, hoping to hell they can hit the one-by-one inch opening in the LAZoR unit’s design where the LIDAR rangefinder and targeting optics are exposed.

  -Dnnk, trrk! Dnnk, dnnk, prnnk!- Bullets blast little divots in the pavement ahead of them and ricochet away. Vega drops his rifle from his eyes. What the hell? “HOLD! Cease fire! Cease fire!”

  The mechs stop. Only three feet in front of them, the defocused laser paints the ground red. Vega looks up toward where the shooters might be. “U.S. Marine Corps! Master Sergeant Vega! Identify yourself!”

  Clyde shakes his head as he lowers his rifle. What the blood-clot? “Corporal Clyde Wilson! Army Research Laboratory! Weapons and Materials Research! What the hell are you doing?”

  As Robertson and Jenkins relax and breathe a sigh of relief, Vega’s smile couldn’t be bigger. “Nice of you to join the party! I’ve got a message from the president!”

  After a couple minutes of yelling back and forth, a new plan is devised, and Clyde sends his specialist back to begin preparation. Clyde holds his hands to his mouth and yells again, “I’ll authorize the diagnostics test on that unit! When you’re good to go, the spinning lights will stop, and we’ll fire on the ground again! That’ll be your signal! You’ll have about one hundred and fifty seconds of delay, to clear the zone! You’ve got almost two hundred and fifty feet to the left and right, centered on the unit, to pass through! Outside that and you’ll be in range of the units to the sides!”