I shook my head again. My heart was pounding so hard, I was having trouble breathing. I put the mask on my face. I took a breath, and that horrible sound began. It was like Darth Vader breathing except it was yours. In the water, in the dark, your breath was the only sound. It could become thunderously loud while you waited to die.
“Strap needs tightening,” Wren said. He started to adjust the strap as if I were five and being bundled off to play in the snow.
“I can do it.” My voice came over the open radio line in the mask.
He raised his gloved hands skyward, still smiling. He was a hard man to insult, because I’d been trying. He had this sort of cheerful goodwill that seemed to deflect everything. Never trust people who smile constantly. They’re either selling something or not very bright. Wren didn’t strike me as stupid.
Insult to injury, I couldn’t get the strap adjusted on the damned mask. I always hated trying to work with anything bulkier than surgical gloves. I pulled the mask off and my first breath of real air was too loud, too long. I was sweating, and it wasn’t just the heat.
I had the Browning and the Firestar lying on the side of the fire truck. There were enough pockets on the outside of the suit to hold half a dozen guns. I had a sawed-off shotgun from my vampire kit in a makeshift pack across my back. Yeah, it’s illegal, but Dolph had been with me once upon a time when we went after a revenant vampire. They were like PCP users: immune to pain, stronger even than a normal vamp. A force of hell with fangs. I showed him the shotgun before I got it out. He okayed it. We’d ended with two dead security guards and one rookie officer spread all over the hallway the last time. At least Dolph and his men had silver ammo now. He and Zerbrowski nearly getting killed because they didn’t have it was what pushed the paperwork through. I gave them a box of ammo for Christmas before they got official silver ammo. I never wanted to watch any of them bleed their lives away for lack of it.
I’d left the knives in their wrist sheaths. Carrying naked blades in the pockets of a suit that was air-and water-tight seemed sort of defeatist. If I lost both handguns and had to scramble for the knives under the suit, then we were probably toast. No need to worry about it. My silver cross hung naked around my neck. It was the best deterrent I had against baby vamps. They couldn’t force their way past a bare cross, not when it was backed up by faith. I’d only met one vamp that could force his way past a blazing cross and harm me. And he was dead. Funny how so many of them ended up that way.
Tucker came over to me. “I’ll help you adjust the mask.”
I shook my head. “Leave me till last. The less time I’m in this get-up the better.”
She licked her lips, started to say something, stopped, then said, “Are you all right?”
Normally, I would have said sure, but they were depending on me, maybe for their lives. How scared was I? Scared. “Not exactly,” I said.
“You’re claustrophobic, aren’t you?” she said.
I must have looked surprised, because she said, “A lot of people want to be firemen, but in the middle of a fire with the mask down and smoke so thick you can’t see your hand in front of your eyes, you don’t want to be claustrophobic.”
I nodded. “I can understand that.”
“There’s a part of training where they cover your eyes completely and make you do the equipment by touch as if the smoke had blacked out the world. You learn who doesn’t like it close.”
“I could take the suit without the SCBA. It’s the combination of the suit and listening to myself breathe. I had a diving accident just after college.”
“Can you do this?” No accusations, just honesty.
I nodded. “I won’t leave you stranded.”
“That’s not what I asked,” she said.
We stared at each other. “Give me a few minutes. I just didn’t understand what Haz-Mat was. I’ll be okay.”
“You sure?”
I nodded.
She didn’t say anything else, just walked away to let me gather my scattered wits.
Wren had finally wandered over to talk to Fulton. Wren and Tucker were going in because they were both paramedics and we might need their medical training. Also, frankly, I didn’t want Fulton in the dark with me and a bunch of vamps. He was simply too freaked. I didn’t blame him, but I didn’t want him at my back either. Of course, if I’d been watching me sweat and struggle to breathe calmly, I might not want me in there. Dammit. I could do this. I had to do this.
Detective Tammy Reynolds came slogging up in her own suit. They didn’t have one big enough to fit Dolph, so she was my armed backup. Oh, joy. I couldn’t send them in with Tammy as their only backup.
Tammy had managed to get her shoulder rig over the suit. She had one of those that just rode across the shoulders, no belt to put through straps. When I’d been shopping, all the holsters that just crossed the shoulders moved around on me too much. Part of it is having narrow shoulders. I’d have had to have the holster cut down. I don’t buy things that have to be fussed with. Not dresses or holsters.
Reynolds smiled at me. “Larry’s really disappointed that he can’t come along.”
“I’m relieved,” I said.
She frowned at me. “I thought you’d want him to back you up.”
“Yeah, but a gun can’t help him if the ceiling caves in on us.”
“You think it will?” she asked.
I shrugged. I’d concentrated on getting suited up, on small details, on Wren’s quiet teasing. I’d managed not to dwell on the thought that we were about to walk across a floor that might collapse underneath us, then walk under it and wait for it to collapse on top of us, while wading through water full of coffins and vampires. What could be better?
“Let’s just say I’m cautious.”
“And you don’t want to risk Larry.”
“That’s right. I don’t like the idea of Larry getting hurt, by anything.” I stared at her while I said it.
She blinked hazel eyes at me, then smiled. “Neither do I, Anita, neither do I.”
I nodded and let it go. I’d done my parenting bit. I wasn’t even sure why I didn’t trust Tammy, but I didn’t. Women’s intuition, or maybe I just didn’t trust much of anybody anymore. Maybe.
Tucker came back to us. “Time to suit up.” She looked right at me.
I nodded. I let her help me adjust the mask over my face. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing—in, out, in, out. In diving if you breathed too fast, you could blow your lungs. Now it was just a way to keep from hyperventilating.
She fitted the suit’s hood over my head. I watched her do it and knew my eyes were a little too wide.
Wren’s cheerful voice came over the radio in the mask. “Breathe normally, Anita.”
“I am breathing normally,” I said. It sounded odd to be able to talk normally while my own breathing was wheezing, loud and ominous in my ears. With a regulator in, you couldn’t talk, though I’d learned you could scream with a regulator clenched between your teeth. Sounds echo like a son of a bitch underwater.
With the helmet over the mask, visibility was not the best. I practiced turning my head, seeing just how big the blind spots were. My peripheral vision was almost gone.
Tammy’s voice came over the radio. “It’s hard to see in this thing.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Tucker said.
“I hope we’re not in this get-up long enough to get used to it,” I said.
“If we say ‘run,’ run like hell,” Tucker said.
“Because the floor will be caving in, right?” I said.
I think she nodded, but it was hard to tell through the layers. “Right.”
“Fine, but when we get to the stairs, I have to take the lead, and if I say ‘run like hell,’ it means the vampires are going to eat us.”
Wren and Tucker exchanged glances. “You tell us to run,” Wren said, “we’ll ask how fast.”
“Agreed,” Tucker said.
“Great,” I said.
Truthfully, it was a damn relief not to have to argue with anyone. No debate. What a relief. If I hadn’t been sweating like a pig, listening to my own breathing echoing horrifically like The Tell-Tale Heart, having to relearn how to walk in metal-lined boots, I’d have said working with the fire department was a break. But it wasn’t. I’d have rather rappelled down on ropes with Special Forces into a free-fire zone than shuffle along in the mummy suit trying not to lose it. It was just a phobia, dammit. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was hurting me. My body didn’t believe the logic. Phobias are like that. Reason doesn’t move them.
Wren stepped onto the floor. It made a noise like a giant groaning in its sleep. He froze, then stomped his feet so hard I thought my pulse was going to spill out my mouth.
“Shouldn’t we be quieter?” I asked.
Wren’s voice came in my ear. “Walk exactly where I walk. Don’t deviate, don’t spread out.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Just because the floor is solid where I’m walking doesn’t mean it’s solid anywhere else.”
“Oh,” I said.
I went right behind Wren, so I got a closeup view of his little stomping dance. It was not comforting. Tucker came behind me, then Detective Reynolds bringing up the rear.
I’d given everybody a cross to put in the pockets of their suits. Why wasn’t everyone wearing one like I was? Because Tucker and Wren were carrying a pack of opaque body bags apiece. Plan was to put the vamps in the bags and take them back up. Inside an ambulance in the body bags they’d be safe until nightfall. If we pulled this off and the ceiling didn’t collapse before darkness, I was going to be pissed. As long as it didn’t fall while we were down here. That I could pass on.
I walked where Wren walked, religiously. Though I did have to say, “Even out of this suit my stride isn’t as big as yours. In the suit I’m damned near crippled. Can I take smaller steps?”
“Just as long as the steps are directly in line with mine, yes,” Wren said.
Relief. The floor was covered with debris. Nails were everywhere in the blackened boards. I understood the metal insoles now. I was grateful for them, but it didn’t make them any easier to walk in.
There was a line to one side going down a hole in the floor. It was a hard suction hose attached to a loud pump some distance away. They were draining the water out of the basement. If the place was watertight, it could be full to the ceiling. Comforting thought.
Fulton had called in a Haz-Mat tanker for the water. He seemed to be treating vampirism like a contagious disease. It was contagious but not in the way he seemed to think. But he was Incident Commander. I was learning that that title equated with God at a fire scene. You couldn’t argue with God. You could get mad at him, but it didn’t change anything.
I concentrated on moving my feet. Watching for debris. Stepping in Wren’s footsteps. I let the world slide away except for moving forward. I was aware of the sun beating down, sweat trickling down my spine, but it was all distant. There was nothing but moving forward, no thinking required. My breathing was normal when I bumped into Wren’s back.
I froze, afraid to move. Was something wrong?
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Stairs,” he said.
Oh, I thought. I was supposed to take the lead now. I wasn’t ready. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how good I could walk on stairs in the damn suit. I just hadn’t appreciated how hard it would be to walk in it.
“Stairs are the most dangerous part of a building like this,” Wren said. “If anything is going to collapse it’ll be the stairs.”
“Are you trying to make us feel better?” Reynolds asked.
“Just prepared,” he said. “I’ll test the first few steps. If it seems solid, I’ll move back and let Blake take it.” He wasn’t teasing anymore. He was all business, and we were suddenly on a last-name basis.
“Watch the body on the stairs,” he said. He moved onto the first step, stomping hard enough that I jumped.
The body on the stairs was black, charcoaled. The mouth gaped open in a soundless scream. You had to look close to see the fangs. Real vamp fangs just aren’t that big. Tendons were stretched naked looking like they’d snap if you touched them. The body looked fragile, as if one touch and it would be dust. I remembered Larry and the skull that had turned to powder at his touch. This body looked tougher than that, but not by much. Could it be alive? Was there some spark inside it that with nightfall it would move, live? I didn’t know. It should have been ash. It should still have been burning in the sunlight, no matter how much water they poured on it.
Wren’s voice startled me. “You can take the lead now, Anita.”
I looked down the steps and found Wren several steps below, almost halfway. The darkness down below spilled around his feet like a pool. He was far enough down that a really ambitious vamp might have grabbed a leg and pulled him down. I hadn’t been concentrating. My fault.
“Come back up, Wren,” I said.
He did, and he was oblivious to the possible danger. Damn. “The stairs are concrete, which makes it safer. You should be okay.”
“Do I still have to stomp every step?”
“It’d be safer,” he said.
“If I feel it going, I yell?”
“Yes,” he said. He brushed past me.
I stared down into the Stygian depths. “I need a hand for the railing in this suit. A hand for the gun. I’m out of hands for a flashlight,” I said.
“I can try and shine a light in front of you, but it won’t be where you need it.”
“Don’t worry about it, unless I ask.” It took me over a minute, maybe two, to fumble the Browning out of its pocket. The gun was definitely going in one hand. I had to use two hands to click off the safety in the bulky gloves. I slid my hand inside the trigger guard on the trigger. I’d never have carried a gun like this normally. But my gloved finger didn’t want to fit inside the trigger guard. I was ready to go now. If I put safety first, I’d never get a shot off in time. I’d practiced with winter gloves on, but I’d never dreamed of having to shoot vamps in a Haz-Mat suit. Hell, I didn’t know what a Haz-Mat suit was until today.
“What’s the holdup?” Fulton’s voice. I’d forgotten he was monitoring everything we said. Like being spied on.
“These damn gloves aren’t exactly made for shooting.”
“What’s that mean?” he asked.
“It means, I’m ready to go down now,” I said. I kept the Browning pointed up and a little forward. If I fell in the suit and accidently fired a shot, I was going to try very hard not to shoot anyone behind me. I wondered if Detective Tammy had her gun out. I wondered how good a shot she was. How was she in an emergency? I said a short prayer that we wouldn’t be finding out, got a death grip on the banister, and stomped the first step. It didn’t fall down. I stared ahead into the thick blackness at the middle of the stairs. The sunlight cut across the darkness like a knife.
“Here we go, boys and girls,” I said. And down we went.
46
WATER LAPPED AT the last few steps. The basement had turned into a lake. Wren’s flashlight passed over the dark water like a tiny searchlight. The water was a solid blackness, holding all its secrets close and quiet. A coffin floated about ten feet from the stairs, bobbing gently in the dark, dark water.
Even over the wheezing and whoosh of my own breathing, I could hear the water lapping. There was the sound of wood rubbing together like boats tied up at a dock. I pointed, and Wren’s light followed my hand. Two coffins were bumping against one another near the far wall.
“Three coffins visible, but there should be four more. One for the guardian, one for the vamp on the stairs, and two more.”
I took that last step into the water. Even through the suit I could feel the liquid like a distant coolness, a liquid weight lapping at my ankles. The feel of the water was enough to speed my breathing, send my heart pounding in my throat.
“You’re going to hyperventilate,” Wren said.
“Slow your breathing.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to make it slower. A count of fifteen, then another breath.
“You okay?” he asked.
“What’s going on?” Fulton asked.
“Nothing,” Wren said.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“What’s happening?” Fulton said.
“We’re missing four coffins. Two could have sunk, but we still have two missing. Just wondering where they are.” I said.
“Be careful down there,” he said.
“Like a virgin on her wedding night,” I whispered.
Someone laughed. Always good to be amusing.
I tried stomping on the next step, knee-deep in water, and my feet went out from under me. I was suddenly sliding down the steps, only my grip on the banister keeping me from going under. I sat in water up to my chin, feeling stupid and scared. A combination I’m not fond of.
Wren came to stand over me, light sliding over the water while he helped me to my feet. I needed the help. I raised the Browning dripping wet into the light.
“Will your gun work now?” he asked.
“I could fire it underwater and it would still work,” I said. It still amazes me how many people think a little water ruins a gun. You have to clean it really well afterwards but during the shooting, water is fine. The days of having to keep your powder dry are long past.
I eased down the remaining steps and slid slowly down into the cool water. My breathing grew ragged. Fuck it, I was scared. Flat-footed in the water, I could have gone for the flashlight in one of the pockets, or I could have slid the shotgun out of the bag across my back. But before I started changing guns, I’d let Detective Tammy get down here with her gun to cover me. I still didn’t know how good she was, but it was better than nothing.
The water slid around my upper chest, not quite armpit depth, but almost. I slid very carefully out into the water, more swimming than walking, gun held two-handed and ready. Or as ready as you can be half-floating in a borrowed astronaut suit.
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10 Page 76