The Dawning: Bloodlust 2

by Melodee Aaron

  He felt an odd relief. The dream she'd had was just a normal dream of nonsense. “You're right. I don't believe you."

  "See?” She paused a moment. “If they do, I want you to stay here with me."

  He shook his head. “No one is going to attack Pearl. And if they do, I can't stay here. I have to get to my ship."

  "The Arizona will be sitting at the bottom of the harbor in a little more than five hours.” She swallowed. “With eleven hundred men still aboard."

  This didn't sound like a normal dream. She had way too many details. “Elisa, how do you know this?"

  "I sometimes have dreams of things that have yet to happen."

  "And you see this attack in your dreams? Have any of your dreams come true?"

  She nodded. “Yes. The Japanese fleet you've been worried about is sitting off the north coast of the island right now, getting ready to launch their planes."

  Darrel shook his head to clear it. How did she know about the Jap fleet? This was nonsense, but if she was right, what did that mean? Either she actually was a spy or she really dreamed about the future. Either one was a hard pill to swallow. If she was on the level, he should call someone. He could hear van Valkenburgh now. How did he expect the skipper to react to such craziness from his radioman? This sort of thing could end a man's career. No, he would tell no one about this.

  "OK. It's just a dream.” He stood and took her hand. “Come on back to bed. Maybe you can dream about our future."

  * * * *

  Honolulu, Present Day

  Valerie sat waiting in the visiting room of the retirement home for the staff to bring an old sailor she knew only as Chief Brandon out to see her. She learned of the old man through some brief research into a story told about the attack on Pearl Harbor where some men claimed to see monsters on the deck of the Arizona as she was sinking. Brandon had been a petty officer cook on the Arizona, and as far as she could learn, was the last living man to have reported the monsters.

  The nurse pushed a wheelchair with a dried up little prune of a black man covered in blankets riding the chair. She set the brakes and moved to where the old man could see her.

  "Davey? This is Mrs. Westwood, the lady I told you about.” The nurse spoke slowly in a loud voice. “Now you be nice to her!"

  The old man's head shook slowly as he looked up, and his hands trembled with some kind of palsy. When his gaze came to rest on her, he smiled, and Valerie could see the twinkle in his eye.

  His voice was soft and had a tremor to match that in his body. “Do Mrs. Westwood got a real name?"

  "Yes, I'm Valerie."

  His laugh sounded like chickens cackling. “Well then! When a man gets to my age, he got to save time, so how you, Val?"

  She smiled. “How old are you, Mr. Brandon?"

  "Jes calls me Davey. I's ninety-seven years old, little lady, soon to be ninety-eight if'n these sons of bitches don't kill me wit theys nasty foods.” He reached up with a shaking hand to scratch above his left ear. Not a single hair graced his head that she could see, and his ears stuck out like open doors on a taxi.

  "Davey, I understand you were on the Arizona when the attack came. Do you remember much about that day?"

  "You bet I do. How's can a man forgets that kind of thing?” He took a few ragged breaths. “Back then, we darkies was in the navy, but we was cooks and porters, not reg'lar navy. It weren't ‘til after the war that old Ike integrated things. But them boys was still my shipmates, and that day, we fought the fucking Japs side by side, jes like God's gonna line us up fer review up yonder."

  "You know, all America is still proud of the job you and your shipmates did that day."

  The old man cackled again. “I's ain't heard that in many a year now."

  "I'm hoping you can tell me about the monsters you said you saw that day."

  A wave of shivers passed over him that swamped even the tremors of his palsy. “Ain't nobody asked me about that since 1943."

  "Well, I'm asking now."

  "You ain't from the navy, is you?"

  "No, my husband and I make movies, and we're working on one that involves the Arizona."

  "The navy told me that I best not say nothin’ to nobody ‘bout them monsters.” He cackled again, triggering a bad fit of shakes. After coughing a little, he looked up at her, his eyes sparkling like diamonds set in black leather. “But what they gonna do to old Davey now, eh? Hell, I's be dead afore they could get me to Washington to stands for court-martial!"

  She laughed with him for a moment. “Maybe not. You may outlive me."

  "Mayhaps I will.” He scratched at his head again for a few moments. “Them monsters. I ain't never seen nothin’ else like them. They was normal sized, like men, but they had skin like gray leather, and darker blotches in it so it looked like scales on a gator.” He shook again and pulled his blanket around his arms. “Theys had nasty-looking claws, too, like some kind of bird, mayhaps a hawk or eagle. I seed one of them, the bigger one, dig them claws right into the bulkhead like the steel was made of hot butter."

  "So there was more than one of them?"

  "Oh, sure enough. They was two of them there. I always thought one was a man and the other small one was a woman monster. But other than they size, theys was about the same. The baddest part was they eyes. Black as pitch right from the pits of hell they was, but they had red dots there, like fresh blood. When I first seed them, I thought the red was blood, cause they was so many boys hit and bleeding on the deck, but then I seen the centers of they eyes. Right there in the middle of that red was green slits, like a cat's eye. Green as that stone around yer neck."

  Valerie glanced at the emerald necklace Roland had given her for their first anniversary. It seemed to glow by its internal light. “What else was there about them?"

  "I thinks they was mad. They argued and fought, growling at each other as the bombs went off and the bullets hit the deck. There was a boy down on the deck next to ‘em, and the little one acted like she was trying to eat him up, but the big one kept pulling her away.” He shivered again. “I fired my rifle at ‘em, and I saw the bullet rip right through the big one's chest, but he didn't take no notice, jes went on a fightin’ wit the little one."

  "When did you last see them?"

  He laughed. “You know them John Wayne movies where you's always hears the bullet what kills you coming? Well, I don't know ‘bout no bullets, but I heared the bomb what kilt Arizona. It slammed right through the deck into the forward magazine, and the whole fucking ship just blowed up. I woke up when I hits the water, but I didn't see the monsters. Fer all I knows, they's down there with the rest of the boys still."

  "It sounds like you were very lucky in several ways, Davey."

  "Mayhaps I was, mayhaps I wasn't.” He paused, his head bobbing around like a fishing lure. “You got someone down there aboard Arizona?"

  "I just don't know."

  * * * *

  Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941—0645

  She and Darrel woke about six and made love again. She'd lost count of the number of times they'd held each other as they shared passion that night, but Elisa knew this would be the last time. In an hour, it would begin, the beginning of the end.

  He came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. Elisa half expected to feel his erection pressing against her back, but he only held her tenderly, happy just to be with and touching her.

  "How are the dreams?"

  She sighed. “I still want you to stay here."

  "I'll stay until I have to get back to the ship this afternoon."

  "No, I mean when the attack starts."

  He turned her in arms to face him. “Baby, there isn't going to be an attack. It was just a dream."

  She gave up. “Yes, you're right."

  "Of course I am.” He led her to the small kitchen and held her chair as she sat before going to the refrigerator. “Let's see. There are some eggs here, and I'm pretty handy with a stove.” Darrel cooked breakfast for the
m both, and they sat together as they ate, just staring at each other.

  "This is really good.” She smiled, but she didn't need to borrow one of his. It came very easy for Darrel.

  "Thanks.” He paused for a moment, and then seemed to make up his mind about something. “What I said yesterday, about not needing a girl in every port, I meant that."

  "I know you did."

  "Well, I guess what I'm saying is that I'd like you to be the only girl in any port."

  She watched his face for a minute. In forty centuries years of living with mortals, she'd learned to read their expressions like mortals read books. There was no mind reading or mind control involved, just simple experience along with trial and error over the many centuries. She could see on his face that Darrel was serious about what he said and that this wasn't just a line he fed to every woman he bedded.

  She wondered how to respond, though. She knew his future, and hers. It felt very wrong, but no matter how she looked at things, she couldn't see where lying to a dead man walking would make any difference.

  "What are you trying to say to me?"

  He poked at the remains of his eggs with his fork for a moment before he looked up, staring deep into her eyes. “Elisa, I seem to have fallen in love with you."

  She smiled her best smile for him. “And I with you."

  * * * *

  Pearl Harbor, Present Day

  On her way back from the nursing home, Valerie called Roland on his cell phone, and he had said that he and Stanley were going back out to the Arizona Memorial to check a few things and she could meet him there.

  When she stepped off the launch, she saw the two men at the far end of the structure, looking out across the water at the gun turret, the rainbow waves from the leaking oil coloring the water in gay hues. She walked toward them and noticed how very different the two men were.

  Roland stood at six feet tall, almost even, and Stanley was just under five and half feet. Roland probably outweighed Stanley by forty pounds, but where Roland's body was solid muscle, Stanley looked like he probably had fought a potbelly for most of his life.

  Valerie knew full well she was biased, but Roland was the kind of man that everyone noticed when he came in the room. Outgoing and outspoken, he was impossible to miss, and that didn't even deal with his devastating good looks.

  Stanley, on the other hand, tended to blend in. Unless someone actually looked for him, he would be easy to miss in even a small crowd.

  And yet, she knew there were similarities in the two men as well as differences. Both had drive and determination. Roland turned his ambition to building a successful movie studio, growing from just another backroom porno studio into a powerful and respected operation that dominated the adult film industry, making enough inroads into the mainstream to scare the big players on the block. Stanley had focused his drive on writing and had written one of the most popular series of erotic romance novels ever published, and this in spite of being a man in a field dominated by women.

  Both men were opinionated and could be more than a little domineering when they wanted to get their point across. And both men had a soft streak they tried to keep well hidden from the world, but that came out into the light of day from time to time.

  Roland smiled when he saw her. “Hi, baby.” He kissed her cheek. “Did you get to talk to your old sailor?"

  "Yes I did, and it was an interesting chat."

  Stanley frowned. “An old sailor?"

  "Yes. He was on the Arizona on that last day, and he claims to have seen the monsters you based this story on."

  "Ah! I did not know that any of the men who made that report still lived. He must be nearly a hundred."

  "Ninety-seven, and he's quite the old man."

  Roland had swiveled his head like watching a tennis match as she and Stanley talked. “Wait. You mean people actually claimed to have seen something on the Arizona?"

  Stanley nodded. “Quite right. About a dozen sailors reported seeing monsters on the deck just before the explosion that sent Arizona to the bottom.” He smiled. “Perhaps Elektra really was here."

  * * * *

  Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941—0744

  Elisa sat with him, but no matter how hard she tried to stop, her eyes kept drifting to look out the window of the apartment that overlooked Pearl Harbor. She couldn't keep her thoughts focused because the future memories distracted her. She thought that completely understandable given the situation.

  He touched her hand. “Did you hear me? I said I have to be back at the ship in six hours, so if you want to go somewhere today, we should get moving."

  "Oh, I'm sorry.” She squeezed his hand. “I think I'd just like to stay home."

  "That's fine."

  She looked out the window again, and her predator's vision picked out a cluster of black dots against the northwestern sky. As she watched, the dots moved slowly into formation, and several broke away from the pack and descended to a lower altitude.

  Darrel followed her gaze, but she knew he wouldn't be able to see anything other than blue sky. He frowned a little. “What are you looking at?"

  She faced him again. “Nothing, my precious."

  When she looked back to the sky, the dots had split into three groups. She sighed. Dive bombers and fighters high, level bombers middle, and torpedo bombers low. She wondered what the rest of the sky looked like.

  Elisa glanced down at the harbor and saw the battleships lined up on Battleship Row, all trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys. She could make out the lettering on the USS Arizona, California, Oklahoma, and West Virginia, and she knew the other was the USS Nevada. In less than two hours, two of the ships would be lost and the other three would suffer serious damage.

  Darrel smiled and pointed out the window. “Look there. A flight of B-17s."

  She hesitated a moment, and the roar of aircraft overhead made Darrel's face go slack.

  She shook her head. “No, those aren't B-17s."

  * * * *

  Things came at him way too fast. In the last eighteen hours, he'd met the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, spent the night with her making love like half-crazed rabbits, listened to her stories about impossible dreams, told her he loved her, and now he watched as two flights of aircraft he didn't recognize flew into Pearl Harbor's airspace. Perhaps the most troubling part of all was the calm, matter-of-fact way she had announced that the planes weren't B-17s from Hickam.

  The distant, unmistakable rumble of high explosives rolled over the harbor, reverberating from the surrounding hills, and he looked back out the window. Black smoke boiled from Hickam Field, and as he watched, he saw three more explosions there. The sound reached them a few seconds later. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and it said 7:48.

  He turned to Elisa and tried his to speak twice before any sound would come out. “What's going on?"

  She wiped at a tear that ran down her cheek. “You should get back to your ship."

  "You knew. You were right."

  "Yes. Go. Now."

  He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on as he half ran for the door. She stopped him with her hands on his chest. Tears flowed freely down her face now, but she sounded much stronger than he felt.

  Placing her hands on the sides of his face, Elisa kissed first one cheek, and then the other. She managed a small smile.

  "Godspeed, my precious.” She kissed his lips tenderly, and then placed his Dixie-cup on his head.

  He wanted to say something to her, and he knew there must be a million things to say to the woman he loved at a time like this, but he couldn't think of any.

  Instead, he turned and ran down the steps for the parked car.

  * * * *

  After Darrel left, she sat for almost five minutes watching the swarming Japanese aircraft as they neutralized the airfields. The fighters waited high overhead for any aircraft the airmen happened to get off the ground, but they had little to do. As she watched, it occurred to her that she wasn't ready to
give up, at least not easily.

  She ran for the door as the change came partially to her, heightening her senses and increasing her strength to something to haunt the nightmares of children and men alike. Elisa sprinted through the streets, passing panicked people, screaming emergency vehicles, and curious onlookers of the battle, none of which took any notice of her.

  When she reached the harbor, no military police guarded the pier, and the launch sat tied to the service dock near the ships, so she dove into the water and swam like a dolphin for the anchored Arizona.

  The attackers had turned their attention now to their primary targets; the ships on Battleship Row. The bombs and torpedoes came in a rain of destruction, and wounded, dead, and dying men littered the deck of Arizona. The blood and the smell of cooking flesh from the fires forced the change on her fully, triggering the feeding frenzy Wellington had warned her about.

  Her vision changed, turning the air around her green with men glowing bright red with hot white borders. Her heat vision cut through the smoke letting her see clearly, and special adaptations in her filtered the glare from the burning fires that erupted from the onslaught of bombs and torpedoes.

  The two-inch fangs filled her mouth, and she flicked her tongue out to lick them in a casual, unconscious move as her hunger for blood flared. Her ears picked up the sound of a closing aircraft, and she spun in place just as a trail of bullets hit the deck and ran up to her feet. The slugs tracked up her legs and slammed into her chest, tearing gaping holes in her skin. The pain distracted her, but only for an instant.

  A mortal jumped from behind a bulkhead and dropped to one knee as he tracked the aircraft with the rifle he held tight to his shoulder. He squeezed off shot after shot at the receding plane, but she saw no effect from his efforts.

  Something in her brain clicked. The man wore civilian clothes, but he had a white naval cap on his head. Maybe some part of her, some tiny fragment still human after all the centuries, knew the man was Darrel. She froze in place, just as any predator freezes when the prey looks their direction.

  Darrel turned away from his last target and saw her. She still wore the pants and blouse she had on when he ran from her apartment just a short time ago, but her body had changed. Her skin had altered into leatherlike armor, gray with greenish blotches, and her eyes with the green pupils set in red irises against pitch black balls were the stuff of nightmares.