Captain Weber looked skeptical. “But we don’t have any proof of that, Lieutenant. The one thing we know works, that we’ve seen work, is wooden stakes, so that’s what we need. If we have enough of them, we could arm ourselves. But where are we going to find that much wood? There are only so many mop handles on board.”
“Wait here, sir,” Carr said. “I think I’ve got just the thing.”
He hurried off toward the back of the reactor room and returned a minute later. With him was an enlisted man carrying a bundle of long wooden rods. The sailor placed them on the deck in front of the captain. Each rod was two feet long and tapered on one end. Not a point, exactly, but it could be sharpened into one.
“Where did you find these, Carr?” the captain asked.
“They’re standard equipment, sir. They’re for fixing leaks. When seawater got into the auxiliary engine room of my last sub, I used these rods to plug the holes in the hull and stop the water. I reckon they’ll do just as well for killing vampires, sir.”
Much to Tim’s surprise, the captain smiled. Captain Weber had always been so aloof and imposing that until that moment, Tim wasn’t sure the man knew how to smile.
“Lieutenant Carr,” the captain said, “this is just what we need to take Roanoke back.”
A cheer went up from the other sailors. Tim felt it too. They were no longer helpless against the vampires. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief, like taking a deep breath after holding it for too long. Maybe they could survive this after all.
Oran Guidry’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Lieutenant Abrams, suh, you need to rest. Sit back down, suh, please.”
Lieutenant Abrams had gotten to his feet. He was even paler than before, white as paper, with dark rings around his eyes. His skin glistened with sweat, and his hair was damp and matted. Clutching the blanket around his shoulders, he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the light and squinted at them.
“I—I can’t control it anymore,” Abrams said. “I’m so hungry. I can smell the blood from Jerry’s wounds and the uniform he bled into. It’s driving me crazy!”
“You need to rest, suh,” Oran said again. He went over to Abrams and gently tried to guide him back to where he’d been sitting.
“No!” Abrams shouted, breaking away from him. “Don’t you understand? Don’t any of you see what I’m becoming?”
“Lieutenant,” Captain Weber said sternly, starting toward him.
Abrams hissed at him, revealing two long viperine fangs. The captain froze.
“Get it now?” Abrams said. “It’s too late for me. My memories are starting to go. I can’t remember my brother’s name anymore, or—or the name of the hospital where my mother worked. All I can think about is how much the light hurts my eyes—and how hungry I am.”
“Lieutenant, you’ve got to calm down,” Jerry said, inching toward him. “We can figure something out—”
“Stay back!” Abrams yelled. “It’s too late for that!”
Jerry stopped in his tracks. Abrams spun around and faced the reactor. He looked up at it fearfully, as though he could see something they couldn’t. Then his expression became one of serene determination.
“This is the only way,” he said.
“Lieutenant …” Oran started to say.
Abrams ignored him. He walked toward the reactor, throwing off the blanket and spreading his arms. As he drew closer, his body began to smoke, and his skin began to sizzle like bacon on a griddle. Undeterred, he walked up to the reactor and embraced it. His body burst into flames. Men cried out, some of them running to grab the fire extinguishers mounted on the reactor-room bulkhead. Oran was at the head of the group running toward the burning lieutenant, but they could get only so close before the flames drove them back.
Tim watched in horror. If Abrams felt any pain, he didn’t show it. He didn’t scream. He didn’t thrash about. He just stood there, embracing the side of the reactor like a long-lost lover and burning, until finally the men brought the extinguishers and turned them on him. The flames died away, and Lieutenant Gordon Abrams’ body fell backward onto the deck, a charred husk like Matson’s.
Oran ran to the corpse and knelt down over it. “Oh, no, Lieutenant. Why?”
Jerry helped Oran back to his feet. “It’s what he wanted: to die while he was still himself, while he was still in control.”
“There should have been another way,” Oran said, buckling at the knees. Jerry supported him and led him away from the blackened corpse.
Captain Weber looked down at Gordon’s smoldering remains. Then he turned to Lieutenant Carr.
“Radiation,” he said softly, sadly. “You were right, Carr.”
Tim stared in horror at Abrams’ corpse. He wished it could have happened some other way, but at least they finally had the proof they needed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“So how do we use radiation to kill the vampires without killing ourselves too?” Captain Weber asked.
“I’ve been thinking about that, sir,” Lieutenant Carr said. “As you yourself saw on your Geiger, sir, the radiation level here is within safety standards, and it’s very well contained by the reactor.”
“And yet Matson and Abrams went up in flames,” the captain said. “Why?”
“I don’t know, sir. We don’t know anything about what kind of changes were made to the crewmen’s biology when they became, erm, vampires. The best I could guess is that they have some kind of innate sensitivity to the radiation—something inside them that is affected in a way that we’re not. If I’m right, that’s why they haven’t entered the reactor room yet. Therefore, sir, I believe all we need is low-level radiation—enough to be dangerous to them but not to us. We can do that by taking it not from the reactor itself, but from the irradiated water that comes out of it.” He pointed to the massive pipe that led from the reactor to the steam generator. “We use seawater as a coolant, so the water in that outtake pipe still carries a dangerous level of radioactive neutrons until it’s recycled through a series of filters.” He pointed to the three massive holding tanks beside the reactor. “If we take some from the last tank, it’s still going to be radioactive, but it’s going to be low dosage, barely measurable. Here, watch.” He held a matchbook-size Geiger counter against the farthest tank. “See? It’s within safety limits, sir.”
“You’re sure it’ll be strong enough, Lieutenant?” Captain Weber asked.
“Aye, sir,” Carr said. “Judging from what happened to Matson and Abrams, even low levels of ambient radiation seem to affect the vampires much more strongly than us.”
Listening to their conversation, Tim Spicer could only shake his head in astonishment. Vampires. It sounded so silly, like something out of a children’s Halloween special on TV. It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and Oh, Yeah, Vampires Are Real. Except that there was nothing funny or cute about the carnage he had seen in the control room, or the pitiful gasps for air he had heard from the doomed men in the torpedo tubes. He shook the terrible memories out of his head and glanced over his shoulder at Oran Guidry.
Oran hadn’t budged from his spot beside Lieutenant Abrams’ remains, which had been covered with the blanket Abrams had worn earlier. The two of them hadn’t served together very long, but they must have bonded during that short time. It was easy enough to imagine the camaraderie between Oran, LeMon, and Abrams flourishing in the small confines of the galley over the course of their shared watch sections. The thought of LeMon put a knot in Tim’s stomach. Oran hadn’t had any time to mourn his brother’s death before LeMon came back as one of those creatures. That had to be digging into him pretty deep. Perhaps that was why he had latched on to Abrams so tightly after rescuing him from the torpedo tube. Their bond had filled the hole left by LeMon.
“Lieutenant Carr, I need you to be sure this will fry the vampires,” the captain said.
“I can’t be sure, sir,” Carr replied. “Nothing like this was covered in the procedures manual, sir. But I thi
nk this is our best shot.”
Captain Weber blew out his breath, then nodded. “Very well, Lieutenant Carr. Let’s proceed.”
Carr nodded to one of his engineers, who placed a five-gallon plastic bucket under the tank’s valve and turned the handle. Tim half expected something green and luminous to come oozing out, but the irradiated water looked as if it could have come straight out of the tap. Carr waved his Geiger counter over the top of the bucket.
“One-point-eight roentgens, sir. That’s less radiation than your average X-ray at a dentist’s office. Harmless to you and me, sir.”
“But to the vampires?”
“Hopefully strong enough to burn them if it touches them, sir,” Carr said. “But there’s no way to test what effect it will have on a living vampire until we put your plan into action, sir.”
“Understood, Lieutenant,” Captain Weber said.
The plan was to send out someone who would use the coolant to clear a path from the reactor room to the control room—and maybe take out a few vampires along the way. Once the path was safe enough to proceed, the others, armed with wooden stakes, would escort the captain out of the reactor room and up to the control room. The only ones who would stay behind were the engineers, who made up about half the group and who would have to make sure the engines ran properly when Captain Weber regained control.
For the first time since this madness began, Tim was starting to feel truly optimistic. There was a chance this could work, and that was something to hold on to. In the back of his mind, he had to wonder what would happen if they did survive. Once they told their story, the navy brass would probably write them all off as delusional. But hell, even living in a mental hospital beat getting ripped apart by vampires.
When the time came for someone to volunteer to spread the coolant through the boat, Tim stepped up. Captain Weber turned him down flat.
“Request denied, Spicer,” the captain said. “I need you to hang back. There’s no telling how far we’ve sailed into Soviet territory by now. That we haven’t already been spotted and attacked is nothing short of a miracle, and getting out again without being seen is going to take finesse. When we retake the control room, I’m going to need men who know what they’re doing. That includes a sonar tech—and as far as I can tell you’re the only one left.” He turned to the rest of the men assembled in the reactor room. “Any other volunteers?”
The men shifted their weight, coughed, looked down at their shoes. They were scared to leave the safety of the reactor room. Tim understood why. He had seen firsthand what the vampires could do, but he couldn’t help feeling a sting of disappointment. These were trained, professional navy men. He expected better from them. And from the angry expression on Captain Weber’s face, he did too. But before the captain could say anything, Jerry White stepped forward.
“I’ll go, sir.”
“You should be resting, White,” Captain Weber said. “Those injuries need time to heal.”
“Sir, time is a luxury none of us have,” Jerry said. “Send me. I’ve been out there already, sir. I know what to expect. I can clear a path to the control room faster than anyone else. Besides, sir, I can’t just sit here while the bastards who did that to Lieutenant Abrams have control of the boat. If there’s anything I can do to help take them down, I want to do it, sir.”
“You sure you’re feeling well enough, White?” the captain asked.
“Positive, sir. Let me do this.”
Captain Weber nodded. “Fine. You’re on. But if we’re wrong about the coolant, you’ll be alone out there with God only knows how many of those things. You won’t be able to signal us if you need help. We can cover you from the hatch until you’re as far as the mess, but after that, you’ll be completely on your own.”
“Understood, sir,” Jerry said.
“Captain, sir, let me take a weapon and go with him, just in case,” Tim said.
“That’s a negative, Spicer,” the captain said. “I told you, I’ll need you in the control room when the time comes.”
“I’ll be fine, Tim,” Jerry said. “Besides, I can move faster on my own.”
Tim let it go. It was out of his hands. This, he realized, was Jerry in crisis mode. Confident, brave, capable—nothing like the circumspect newcomer Tim had met on launch day. This was the sailor who had run into Philadelphia’s burning auxiliary engine room while everyone else ran the other way and singlehandedly saved the submarine. This was the sailor Captain Weber had hoped Jerry would prove to be when he had signed off on the transfer to Roanoke.
“All right, then, White,” the captain said. “You’d better get out there before the coolant becomes too weak to protect you.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Lieutenant Carr said. “This stuff’s got a half-life of ninety years.”
He picked up the bucket and passed it to Jerry. It was made of lightweight plastic, but filled just over halfway with three gallons of seawater it weighed twenty-five pounds. The irradiated water sloshed against the sides of the pail.
Jerry looked at it skeptically. “You’re sure this stuff is safe for humans, sir?”
“Well, that’s the good news and the bad news,” Lieutenant Carr said. “This coolant is low dose, which means you’ll be fine. But it also means the vampires won’t react to its presence as strongly as they did to the reactor itself. They won’t be happy about the radiation, but it won’t do them serious harm unless they touch it. If you run into trouble out there, you’re going to have to splash the coolant on them. That means getting up close and personal. You’re sure you still want to do this?”
“You know it, sir,” Jerry said.
Captain Weber handed him a battle lantern to hold in his free hand.
“Be careful out there,” Tim said.
Jerry nodded. “I’ll see you in the control room.”
“Would you like a sidearm from the weapons locker as well?” the captain asked.
“No, thank you, sir,” Jerry said. “A gun won’t stop the vampires.”
“I didn’t mean for them,” Captain Weber said. “I meant for you, in case the coolant doesn’t work.”
Tim went cold, but he didn’t say anything. Jerry swallowed hard, then shook his head.
“The coolant will work, sir,” he said. “It has to.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
It was Jerry’s second foray out of the reactor room and into the pitch-black submarine, and he had to wonder whether he was pushing his luck. The first time, LeMon, Bodine, and Duncan—or rather, the vampires they had become—had let him pass without attacking. He couldn’t count on being so lucky this time, especially since he was carrying a bucket of radioactive holy water to kill them with. He knew now that it was the ambient radiation from the reactor room that had held them back before. It was as poisonous to them as sunlight. But he was leaving the protection of the reactor room behind, and despite what he’d said to Captain Weber, he wasn’t entirely sold on Lieutenant Carr’s theory about the irradiated water. He hoped to God Carr was correct, not just for his own sake but for the rest of the crew’s as well. They couldn’t stay in the reactor room forever with no food or water. This was their last, best hope of taking back the boat, and if Carr was wrong, Roanoke was doomed.
The reactor-room hatch led out directly into the mess. He stepped carefully down the short flight of stairs. The mess was the closest space to the reactor room, and the captain and those protecting him would have to pass through it to reach the main ladder up to the control room. Therefore, it was vital to the success of their plan that the mess be secured first, and any vampires hiding there eliminated.
In the light from the reactor room behind him, Jerry’s shadow stretched ten feet ahead. He glanced back at the men gathered in the open doorway, covering him with their Browning M1911 pistols. Bullets wouldn’t be enough to kill any vampire that attacked him, but they might slow it down until he got away.
Got away. That was wishful thinking. There wasn’t far to go on a sub
marine, and there were few places to hide.
At the bottom of the steps, he shined his lantern into the mess—and nearly jumped out of his skin. He had forgotten about the corpses of Ortega and Keene that were slumped at one of the tables. He hadn’t braced himself for the sight of them with their throats torn out, their glazed eyes staring back at him. He took a deep, shivering breath and walked into the mess. Up close, he could see the strips of muscle and skin hanging from the ragged wounds in their necks, the blood-slick meat glistening in the lantern light. Jerry kept moving.
At the service counter, he saw a spread of day-old sandwiches—the last meal Lieutenant Abrams had served. Beside the sandwiches were two bowls of yellowing mayonnaise. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in at least six hours, but he was nowhere near desperate enough to eat anything here, now.
Setting his lantern on the counter, he grabbed an empty plastic soup bowl and dipped it into the bucket.
He whispered to himself, “This damn well better work.”
He splashed the coolant across the deck of the mess, hoping it would be enough to kill any vampire who stepped in the puddle. He took the rest of the small stack of soup bowls from the service counter and lowered them carefully into the bucket. Though Carr had assured him the water was safe, he still yanked his hand out quickly after releasing the bowls.
He decided he had better check the galley too. It was right next to the mess, and the perfect place for the vampires to hide before attacking. He picked up his lantern again, walked the few steps to the galley, and aimed the light inside. The bulkheads and deck were spattered with big plum-colored stains of dried blood. Men had been killed in here, but he didn’t see any bodies. The place looked as though it had been abandoned in the middle of meal prep. Various cooking utensils lay scattered across the deck, along with several overturned pots and pans. There was no sign of the crewmen whose blood was all over the galley. Either the vampires had already taken them down to the torpedo room for disposal, or …
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