Deadly Eleven

by Mark Tufo

  “And any asshole from the OC can pull a surprise visit at any time.”

  “And they wouldn’t know him from Adam,” she stated. And Matt knew she was right. With a spray-on tan and a lab coat, Evan could pass for anybody. Hell, cut his hair and put him in uniform and he could pass for any of his soldiers.

  “So what do we report to the OC?” Matt asked. “He’s assassinated? Escaped? What?”

  “Nothing,” she stated. “They’ve never asked to see him before. What would change that?” Laura went back to her chair and sat down. She swallowed the rest of her drink and sighed. “We simply get him fed, make sure he understands the circumstances that got him put there, and let him get back to work. That’s all he wants anyway.” She looked at Matt and they both knew that she wanted him out more than Evan wanted out. “He wants to be human again. And if that simply cannot happen, then he wants to help us find a way to take them out with the lowest risk to our men. Period.”

  “Fine. But before I put both of our heads on the chopping block, I’m talking to him. Personally,” Matt said.

  “Agreed.” Laura tried her best to sound completely business-like, but inside, her heart was jumping with joy.

  “No. I’m talking to him alone. Man to man,” Matt replied. “Well, man to, er…well…vampire.”

  Chapter 242

  “Is it just me or have you guys been eating like a race horse, too?” Ing Jacobs asked the other MS4 members as they went through the chow line.

  “Dude, I don’t think I ate this much in high school when I was working out like crazy and playing football,” Robert Mueller responded. “Seems like I’m always hungry. And craving meat.”

  Gus Tracy sat down at the table with a huge pile of pork chops on his tray. “One of the nurses said that it has something to do with the enhancements they give us to make us stronger and faster. Its like ‘roids but better. Anyway, it makes you really hungry and you crave tons of protein. Especially meat.” He picked up a chop and started gnawing on it. “Still, being told that is one thing, but it’s another to actually go through it. I feel like I could eat a whole cow.”

  Dave Marshal tossed in his two cents as well. “I’ll tell you what really sucks nuts. I used to live for coffee. I mean, I’d still kill for an honest-to-God cup of espresso. But either my buds have changed, or the stuff they serve here is recycled dog hike. I mean, seriously, it doesn’t even smell like coffee. Still, these other ‘regular joes’ go on about how great the coffee is here, but Jebus, I catch a whiff of it and it stinks like sewer water!”

  Lamb kicked in his thoughts as well. “It’s not just you, pal. Ya know how they cut us off the junk food, right? One of the gate guards smuggled me in a Coke. A flippin’ Coke for cryin’ out loud. I mean…it’s just a soda, right? Stuff stunk to high heaven and tasted like it had lemons in it. I think this stuff they’re pumping through us has changed our taste buds or something.” He picked up another beef rib and ripped off a mouthful. “But I gotta tell ya, I don’t care how strong they make us, or how fast or whatever. If they make beer and cheese doodles taste bad, I’m gonna be so pissed off.”

  Jimmy ‘Tango Down’ Wallace listened to them all while he was eating. Although he was the smallest of the bunch, he had packed on a lot of muscle over the time he had been there and watched his speed, agility and strength go through the roof. “I can’t say for Cokes or coffee, but so far, the chow here ain’t too bad. Lots of good lean meat, green veggies, and plenty of complex carbs. I’m a happy camper.” He smiled as he chewed.

  Tracy nudged TD with a grin. “We got us a regular Jack LaLanne here, fellas!”

  Most of the guys just looked at him with a goofy confused expression. Finally Lamb asked, “Who the heck is Jack LaLanne?”

  “Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me? He was like the original fitness nut. He had the very first TV show on exercise and shit when I was a kid. He’s like ninety-five years old and still in better shape than most guys half his age!” Gus said, totally shocked that none of these guys had ever heard of Jack LaLanne.

  “Jesus, Tracy, you’re such a weirdo,” Jacobs said as he grabbed some of the food off Gus’ tray. “Watching an old guy do exercise on TV.”

  “Yeah, well, so’s your mom, Ing,” Gus retorted. All the guys laughed at Gus’ sorry attempt at a come-back.

  “Hey, so what do you guys think this stuff really is that they’re pumping us up with?” Sanchez asked as she chewed on a slice of roast beef.

  “I dunno. Some sort of synthetic hormones or artificial steroid or something. I dunno if they know,” TD answered.

  “Hey! What’s a hormone?” Gus asked. “Anything you pay her to!” he answered, trying again to get a laugh. All the guys groaned at the even sorrier attempt at a joke.

  “Give it up, Gus. Some guys just can’t tell a joke!” Ing told him.

  “No, seriously, fellas,” Sanchez continued. “Haven’t you guys been wondering just what in the hell they’ve been putting in us?” She looked at each of her counterparts. “I mean, really. Look at how fast we are now. How quick our reaction times are.” She looked at TD in particular. “Jimmy, look at how far you were jumping today. Tell me that ain’t some kind of record breaker, right there!” She turned to Gus. “And Tracy. You’re a big man. Tell me you ever ran that fast in your life?” Gus shook his head no. “I didn’t think so.”

  Ronald took a moment to look each of the men in their faces. “No, she’s right. Each of you tell me you haven’t had some weird thoughts on this. Like maybe this is some alien genetics or something, yeah? I mean, where do they come up with this stuff?” He took another bite and continued, “And I hear that we still aren’t even close to what our ‘true potential’ is before we’re gonna be allowed to hit the muck.”

  All of the men were silent for a moment as the thoughts set in and they pondered Sanchez’s question. Finally, Jacobs stated, “I feel sorry for the monster we run into first.” And all the men laughed in unison.

  After chow was over and the squad was allowed some down time for R&R, the surviving Monster Squad was brought in and introduced by the XO. Laura had the new members assemble in the break room for a formal introduction. Matt was afraid that the mixing of old and new members might cause some friction, but they had been informed beforehand that new members were already in place and their training had to be the number one priority. Surprisingly, all of the squad members agreed. Although they mourned the loss of their brothers in arms, they understood the mission and acted professionally when Matt spoke with them. They understood that, without the proper training, the new member’s lives and their own could very well be forfeit on the battle field.

  Laura waited until the squad members all filed in and it never failed to impress her just how large each man was up close. She could see how each sized up the other before approaching and introducing themselves. Laura started with a little speech she had prepared on how she hoped the two groups could come together and work as one, the new learning from the established and the established using their first-hand knowledge to train the new recruits in just what to expect in the field. She explained that at this moment in time, it was still unclear if the original squad members would remain as assigned or if they would, in fact, be creating two new squads with a mix of both established members and new recruits in order to have their strengths more evenly spread between the two squads.

  Next, she introduced each of the existing squad members and had them give a brief history of themselves for the newer members to have a better understanding of who they’d be working with. First up was Donnie Donovan. Tall and with close cropped dark hair, he looked like a poster boy for spec op.

  “Yeah, I’m Donnie Donovan. I guess my parents had a sense of humor. At least it’s not David Davis, right?” Donnie smiled, setting the new people at ease. “I’m a Navy SEAL and all that implies. Of course, as the colonel will explain, if he hasn’t already, the past is wiped once we sign on here. Rank and branch no longer apply, but…I used to be a
SEAL. And yeah, I’m proud of that. Hardest job I ever loved,” he said. “Well…until this one.”

  Next was the only black man of the group. Large and muscular, he stood a good head taller than the rest. He cleared his throat and tried to smile, but it looked a lot like a snarl. “My name is Apollo. Apollo Creed Williams. My pops was a huge fan of the old Rocky movies and loved Carl Weathers, and I was the first born son, so I got stuck with the name.” He smiled, and this time it looked like a smile. The others smiled back and Sanchez even gave a little sigh. “Army Ranger, amateur body builder, now, full time monster killer.” Apollo let loose with a beaming smile that made the others laugh.

  A non-descript, but muscular man stood up and said, “I’m Spanky. Actually, it’s Darren, Darren Spalding, but for some damned reason, these ass hats started calling me Spanky and I didn’t beat them to death over it. It stuck.” The new folks sort of looked at each other, trying to guess the meaning of the nickname, but thought it best not to ask.

  A darker-skinned fellow stood and introduced himself. “Pedro Gonzales. They call me Popo. Military police turned Army airborne.” Then he sat back down.

  A dark haired, good looking guy stood and smiled like a used car salesman. “Dominic DeGiacomo. Dom to my friends. Best looking of the group, as you can obviously see. Best shooter, too. Army Airborne. These fucks call me Guido, but what the fuck do they know, eh?” His self-depreciating manner brought a few chuckles from the new crowd.

  The thickest of the group stood. He was blonde and blue eyed and looked of Nordic descent. “I am Neils Erikson. They call me Hammer. As in Thor’s Hammer. They think I’m Norwegian, but my family is Swiss. These dumbasses can’t tell the difference. It’s all Alps and chocolate to them,” he said and sat back down. He quickly stood again and said, “Navy SEAL.” And sat back down.

  One man who had been standing in the rear of the room the whole time and remained silent through it all, continued to remain silent. Laura motioned to him, “Hank? Care to introduce yourself?”

  He had a peaceful face, but everyone could tell he was wound tight as a drum, as if he were waiting for something evil to burst into the room at any given moment. His eyes were disconcerting to all of them, yet he made no overtly aggressive moves. Finally, he sighed and stepped forward.

  Hank cleared his throat and said softly, “Hank Michaels. Marine Force Recon.” Then stepped back to where he was.

  Sanchez nodded. “Mm-hmm. A man of few words, I see.” But her desired reaction wasn’t reciprocated. There was no humor to be found.

  Lamb nodded to Hank. “These guys got nicknames. They give you one, too?”

  Spanky hooked a thumb toward Hank, “Just call him Padre.” When that earned a few raised eyebrows, Spanky elaborated. “He’s our resident warrior monk. He’s also the only one of us to come search out this group to join it.”

  Jack awoke to find his arm feeling much better, but his head hurt. He leaned over for the water pitcher and was surprised that his back and ribs felt much better. Next to the pitcher was a platter of cooling mutton and sliced bread. Fresh sliced vegetables sat on the platter next to the mutton. He was starving and made a quick meal of the offering.

  He sat up as best he could and made an assessment of his injuries again. His headache was fading, but his back ached as did his ribs. He could almost swear that they itched under his skin. His legs still throbbed, but not nearly as badly as they had when he first arrived. His arm ached, but was usable. Flexing his fingers and twisting his wrist, he felt only a slight pain in his arm. He could hear a sound approaching and knew from previous visits that Rufus was approaching the door. This time, though, no heavy bolt was thrown before the heavy oak door slid open slowly.

  “Thank you for the lamb. It was delicious,” Jack said, actually feeling grateful.

  “You are most welcome, Mr. Thompson. I wanted to check to see if you had woken yet and I am glad that you found the meal satisfactory,” Rufus replied as he entered the room. “Do you mind company?”

  “Please. I actually have more questions for you, if you don’t mind?” Jack asked.

  “What knowledge I have is yours for the asking, Mr. Thompson.” Rufus pulled the high-backed chair beside the bed where they had last spoke and settled in. “Please understand, though, I have only limited knowledge of what other tribes may or may not do behind closed doors.”

  Jack was more interested in what attacked his squad during broad daylight. Whatever it was had done so brutally fast and without warning. If the vampire would allow him to pick his brain for details, and if Jack ever did get the information out, then hopefully other squads could be warned to exactly what kind of monster is out there and be better prepared to face them. Jack felt it was time to test his hosts’ generosity.

  “How did I get here?” Jack asked.

  “We had you brought here,” Rufus answered.

  Jack waited a moment for Rufus to expand on the answer, but he didn’t. So Jack expanded the question. “By what?”

  “By a werewolf,” Rufus answered.

  Jack gave Rufus a sidelong look. Werewolves transform at the full moon, and this op took place during the day. To the best of his knowledge, it was weeks away from a full moon. “Bull. What was it really?”

  “It was truly a werewolf,” Rufus answered.

  “Ya know what, Rufus? Screw you. For a moment, I thought you were going to play ball with me here and answer some of the questions I had, but if you’re gonna jerk my chain, then—”

  “I am not jerking your chain, Mr. Thompson!” Rufus exclaimed. “Dieu damn! Comment faire..?” Rufus sighed and then sat back into his chair. He steepled his fingers together and rested his chin against them. Finally he raised his eyes to Jack and said, “Mr. Thompson, you have a lot to learn about a lot of things. I suggest you get comfortable.”

  Jack looked at Rufus suspiciously. He still wasn’t sure if he trusted the vampire, but somehow he felt that he was about to get schooled on things that even the Monster Squad wasn’t aware of. Cautiously, he leaned forward and shoved an extra pillow behind his back to support him better then pushed himself up on it and settled in. “Educate me, Rufus.”

  Rufus sat up straighter in his chair. His gaze drifted to the candle on the bedside table and he seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, but Jack had no trouble hearing him. “Do you know the legends of our origins, Mr. Thompson?” Rufus inquired.

  “No. We’re only trained how to hunt down and kill the monsters that prey on humans,” Jack answered, hoping his answer sounded cold and calculated. Rufus appeared unaffected, still staring at the candle.

  “We, ourselves are unsure of our origins. We have only legends to go by,” he stated. “But even legends have a grain of truth at their hearts, oui?” Finally he turned to look at Jack, a sad smile forming. Rufus sighed again and began his tale.

  “Many centuries ago, it is said that one of the Disciples of Christ turned on him, oui? Judas.” Jack was never really a religious man, but he remembered that much from his grandmother dragging him to Sunday School as a kid. “Judas’ betrayal was the worst kind. A betrayal of a brother against another. However, this brother was the Son of God. So his punishment was everlasting. Judas indeed tried to hang himself out of guilt, but he never truly saw death. Rather, he became the undead. Never truly alive, never truly dead, never to die.” Rufus, cleared his throat and turned again to the flickering flame of the candle and let his gaze stare into the glow. “Never to walk in the light of the sun again, forever cast into the darkness…this was his punishment. To be forever a creature of the night and to forever feed upon the very blood of mankind. A thirst more powerful than any mortal greed, and his only weakness, the same weakness that bought his treachery in the first place.” Rufus turned again to Jack. “Silver.”

  “So you’re saying that a disciple of Jesus was the first vampire?” Jack asked, somewhat disbelieving.

  “So say the legends,” Rufus
answered. “And of those that he fed upon, if any lived, they too became vampire. Although few survived early on. Legend says that it took him many years to discover the pathway to truly create without destroying the mind.”

  “Sharing his blood with them.”

  “Exactement! Otherwise, they were mindless creatures, running rampant through the countryside without the sense to escape the burning sun when it rose, and were quickly disposed of,” Rufus answered. “But once he discovered that sharing his own blood with others salvaged the mind of the victim, he chose wisely in who he turned. People of great wealth and power. And he ruled great lands with many wives, and sired many children. Natural born vampires, who’s powers are very much like the stories you read in your novels and—”

  “Whoa! Wait a minute, hold on a second!” Jack interrupted. “You mean to tell me that vampires can breed? We’ve been taught that once somebody is turned, they’re basically sterile.”

  “Oui. For the most part, most turned vampires are sterile,” Rufus explained. “But not all. This is why he took many wives, to increase the odds of siring offspring, and why the natural-born vampires rose to such prominence in the ranks of the families.”

  “This still doesn’t explain the werewolves who operate during the day,” Jack said.

  “True. I am getting to that.” Rufus shifted in his chair to face Jack better. “According to the legends, at the time that the first vampire came into being, the first werewolf was as well.”

  “One of Judas’ first victims?” Jack asked.

  “Non,” Rufus answered. “The Roman centurion that he conspired with, the very centurion who pierced the side of Christ at the moment of death, whose spear became the ‘spear of destiny’…he became the father of the wolves.”

  Jack was taken aback by this revelation. If what Rufus was telling him were true, if the vampire legends were true, it went a long way toward explaining the allergic reactions both had to silver, as the thirty silver coins were tied to both originators. Both had conspired to betray Christ and brought the wrath of God upon their heads. Both had personally wounded Christ, one with a kiss, the other with a spear. Still, it didn’t explain how his team was attacked in broad daylight.