The team commander paused as if pondering his last agent. "Jonas, you wander around and check on the outlying buildings. I'm going to stay here and coordinate with Frank. I'm waiting on the sheriff to call back anyway.
"Each team take a different set of buildings and cabins. Verify the adults and kids, number and names. You each know what this guy looks like, so keep your eyes open. Any questions?" Six asked. After pausing momentarily, he continued, "Alright then, let's get this show rolling."
All of the pairs split off. Boomer and the nurse headed toward the girls' cabins. Quickly moving across the grounds, the two women hurried across the tennis courts and approached the first cabin. The cabin was filled with the older girls. As the camp nurse explained why the DHS agents were there, the explosives expert carefully looked around, trying to determine if any of the girls were infected. The bunks and rooms were as neat as could be expected from young teenage girls. Almost every bed was filled, although there were a couple that stood empty or unmade dotted throughout the rooms.
Once the counselors in the cabin assured Ms. Powell and Boomer that everyone was accounted for, the two women and went to the cabin that housed the younger girls. After meeting the counselors there, Ms. Powell and Boomer were told the same story, that everyone was accounted for and that there had been no signs of strangers around camp. A few more empty beds dotted the rooms here, but no mention was made of them. While Boomer did not notice any outward signs of infection, the explosives expert's intuition told her that something was very wrong. As they stepped out of the second cabin, the nurse told Boomer that she needed to take care of some items in her office and asked if Boomer needed her help any longer. Boomer assured the nurse that she would be fine, and the nurse trotted across the expanse of grass and scrub that covered the grounds.
As she walked away, the nurse pulled out her walkie talkie and said, "This is Lynn. All of the girls are accounted for. Heading to my office next."
As Boomer explored the area around the cabins, an older teen girl, probably fifteen or sixteen years old, snuck out from behind a cabin. Boomer tensed and swung her rifle in the girl's direction. When she realized that the girl was not going to attack her, the explosives specialist asked, "What are you doing out here? It's not safe."
The young teen looked at her. "It isn't safe in there either," she whispered. "Last night, Tina was taken away. I think I'm next. I think I'm the only 'normal' one left."
Boomer knelt down and softly said, "Tell me what you know. I'll help you."
And the girl began to talk in soft, hushed tones.
ABOUT TWO HUNDRED yards away from Boomer, Heavy jogged with the camp cook toward one of the staff cabins and the mess hall. As he took a quick glance inside the staff cabin, the machine gunner noted that there were four made-up bunks in the men's side of the cabin. As he looked in the women's side, he noted that there were three made-up bunks and one that was completely bare.
He nodded at the chef, and they moved to the mess hall. The hall was cavernous, large enough to sit over a hundred campers and staff at the tables arranged in neat lines. Through an open doorway on the back wall, Heavy could see a large kitchen. As the pair walked around and through the large mess hall and kitchen, something seemed off. Heavy couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong. He noticed that everything was put away neatly. It was all very clean.
As they were ready to leave the expansive mess hall, he suddenly realized what was wrong. It was too quiet. The chef should have been preparing food for the next day, and he should have had at least one other person helping him either prepare a meal or clean u from a meal. There should have been meals being prepped; instead, the kitchen was spotless, and there was no one else in the building.
Turning to the chef, Heavy asked, "What time do you serve dinner here?"
The cook started stammering an answer. After several moments, he finally blurted out his response. "Five o'clock. Why?"
Heavy glanced down at his watch and realized that it was just after five. "Just wondering," he cautiously responded.
An odd look crossed the cook's face, and he said, "Will you excuse me a moment. I need to make a phone call. My office is back through there. I'll be right back out." The cook walked into his office and then shut the door.
Heavy began to look around, searching for evidence that the kitchen was actually being used. As he opened the refrigerators, the machine gunner found what seemed to be enough food to feed the entire camp. When he opened the walk-in cooler, he found a great deal of meat stacked on shelves as well as other cold storage food stacked away neatly. His cursory glance seemed enough and he turned to go, but then he spotted something in the back of the meats area. The big man reached back on the shelf and grasped a piece of meat that seemed out of place. Realizing what it was, he shuddered as he drew it out of the pile.
DO-Right followed the older arts and crafts director as they headed north out of the office area. They first visited the offices for the staffers, including the nurse's office. Verifying that there were no intruders present in those areas, the two walked over to the large building that was just north of those offices and past the pool. As they trekked across the field, the former deputy marveled at the complete lack of local wildlife and nature sounds.
The wooded area surrounding the camp should be teeming with life, full of the sounds of birds and animals, but this area seemed almost unnaturally quiet. His hunter's instincts told him that this meant that there was, indeed, a major predator in the area.
The two reached the doors of the recreation hall. As they walked through the large set of wooden double doors, the young deputy looked around and whistled softly. The large building was elaborately decorated in the rustic charm of the west. The wood plank flooring matched the vaulted ceiling and exposed beams. The large exposed beam ceiling led his eye to the opposite end of the room to the massive fireplace that stood as the focal point of the room. Several long community tables were scattered throughout the expansive open area and, on one side of the room, an empty ping pong table and a foosball table awaited their players. Along one wall stood large cabinets and shelves filled with art and craft supplies.
"What a beautiful facility. You guys must be proud," the deputy commented to Ms. Shand.
"Thank you so much," she replied. "It makes a great place for the kids to be creative."
After verifying that no one else was in the facility, they closed the doors again and walked back toward the main office. Do-Right looked to their left and noticed a large building next to the small stables. Pointing to the building, he asked Ms. Shand, "What's that building?"
"That's one of the original lodges," the arts and crafts director explained. "They're currently trying to gather enough donations so they can renovate the building and make it usable, again. Right now, it's closed off because the structure is unsafe."
The deputy pointed to a lonely house up a short hill. "And that one?"
Ms. Shand smiled, "That's the head handyman's cabin, but I don't know if he's back yet. He went to town earlier today to pick up some supplies. "
Do-Right began walking toward the other buildings. "Let's go check those while we're out here," he said, not waiting for an argument.
The arts director nodded and grabbed her walkie talkie. "This is Yvette. Pavilion and offices are clear. We're heading up to Henry's cabin and the bunkhouse."
GOD AND MR. LEGG, the rifle instructor, walked toward the boys' cabins at the north end of the camp. The only building area further north was the archery and rifle range. Ghost wandered along with the two men and then left them to check out the outlying range.
The sniper and the rifle instructor approached the first of the boys cabins, which the rifle instructor informed him was for the youngest of campers, ages seven to nine. The two walked up to the cabin door, and the camp staffer introduced the DHS agent to the boys' counselor. After explaining what the DHS team was doing there, God walked around the cabin. He looked at the kids and talked to those who w
anted to talk. He noticed that there were several empty bunks here and there, and there seemed to be no pattern or apparent reason for it. After he verified that all the counselor's kids were present, he and the camp rifle instructor left to check out the next cabin.
In both of the remaining boys' cabins, there were several empty bunks, much like the first. As God walked around the third cabin with the oldest boys, he noticed a small tear in one of the empty bunks, with a faint pinkish stain on the edges of the mattress. Feigning that he never saw the tear or stain, he kept his smile in place and walked right past it in stride.
The DHS sniper walked out the door with the camp rifle instructor, and God motioned to the bathroom and shower rooms that stood a short distance away.
"Let's check those out, then we can head back," said God.
The rifle instructor nodded and grabbed his walkie talkie off his belt. After keying the microphone, he said, "This is Cliff. All the boys are accounted for. We're on our way back soon."
GHOST PASSED the boys' cabins and headed toward the boathouses that sat on the banks of a small lake. After quickly glancing around the structures, the hunter realized that they offered no place to hide, and he moved on toward the rifle range just around the bend in the access road.
As he walked, he keyed his microphone. "Spooky, Ghost. Any signs of life around the rifle range? Hot or cold?"
Spooky quickly replied, "Wait one... yes. I have one heat source in the bushes on the north side of the range, about twenty yards north. Looks like adult size. No other info."
Ghost replied, "Thanks, Spooky. Ghost out."
The hunter continued to stroll casually toward the range. As he approached shooting stations, he looked all around the range, including near the backstop. He then stood and faced the bushes Spooky told him about and cradled his rifle. Without directly pointing the rifle at the bushes, Ghost readied it enough so that he could bring it to bear before whatever was in the bushes had a chance to reach him.
"I know you're back there," he called out. "Come on out. I'm a Special Agent with the Department of Homeland Security. I will not harm you if you come out now."
A youthful sounding male voice rose from the bushes. "Don't shoot. I'm coming out. I'm unarmed."
Ghost watched as a young man in his mid-twenties stood slowly and raised his hands. He carefully stepped out of the brush and walked toward the agent.
Lowering the rifle a fraction, Ghost motioned for the man to come closer.
"Who are you, and what are you doing out here?" Ghost demanded.
The man nervously looked around them. Seemingly satisfied, he spoke.
"I'm Bill Buckhorn. I'm the archery instructor and assistant rifle instructor here. I'm so glad you guys are here. I've been hiding out here for two days. I think they've given up on finding me," the man explained.
Ghost looked the man over. "Why were you hiding out here?" he asked. "Who are you hiding from?"
The man looked around and gulped. He took a breath and began to explain.
"I think they're killing some of the kids. I noticed a few of the kids disappear over the last couple of days. And I think it had something to do with that doctor that was out here a few days ago. The director and the nurse said something about having everyone inoculated against a particularly nasty bug going around. After that, something changed."
There seemed to be a hitch in the young man's voice. "Yesterday, I was in the kitchen to get a snack during my break. I opened the cooler for some food, and I found... an arm! I thought it was a joke at first, but on the wrist was a craft bracelet that I recognized as belonging to one of my campers. I was told that she left camp early because she was sick. I freaked out and ran into the woods, and I haven't been back since." Tears slowly coursed their way down the man's dusty face.
Ghost reached down and pulled his cross out of his pocket. While not a Catholic, the hunter long ago learned how powerful faith was as a weapon against the undead. The hunter looked down. The cross did not give any hint of light, nor did the man shy away from it. He decided to break a few protocols and trust his instincts.
"I know this is going to seem strange, but would you reach out and touch this cross for me?" Ghost asked. "Just touch it."
The young camp staffer reached out tentatively and touched the cross. It stayed dark, and he was not burned.
The man looked at Ghost and asked, "What's the big deal about that cross? I'm wearing one here." And he reached into his shirt and pulled out his own plain gold cross.
Ghost nodded and held up his hand to the man. He keyed his radio and then spoke.
"Spooky, Ghost. Made contact. Check camp records for Bill Buckhorn. Archery instructor. And can you send a photo of Kaine to my phone?"
"Sending picture now," Spooky replied. "Confirm William Buckhorn listed as staff. Specialty is archery. Running search now. Twenty-six years old. Five-eight. Just over two hundred. Brown hair, brown eyes. Looks like possibly Navajo. Does that help?"
Ghost smiled. "Perfect," he replied. "Ghost out."
The hunter held up his phone with a picture of the late Dr. Bishop Kaine displayed on the screen. "Is this the doctor that was out here for the inoculations?"
"Yeah, that's the guy," Buckhorn said with a nod. "So who is he?"
Ghost smiled grimly. "Someone who keeps causing trouble. Even from the grave."
He held up his hand again to silence the archery instructor.
"Six, Ghost. Attention for all team. Confirmed sighting of Kaine here at the camp three days ago. Gave injections to staff and campers as 'viral inoculations.' Witness says kids are disappearing. Outbreak confirmed."
"This is Six. Copy report. Anyone else have confirmation?"
"Six, Boomer. Confirmed with another witness. Teen girl."
There was a long pause.
The team leader quickly thought created a battle plan. With his team spread all over the camp, he needed to get them back to the office area as quickly as possible. As he was thinking, he left the presence of the director and stepped outside to the War Wagon so that he could have some privacy from the camp director and his staff.
He made up his mind and let his team know. "This is Six. Everyone back to the main office to regroup. Meet at the Wagon. Ghost, Boomer, exercise caution. Keep your cargo safe."
Boomer grasped the hand of the teenager a little more tightly as she walked with her across the grass and toward the offices. The explosives expert found herself constantly looking around, waiting and watching for an attack. She saw God and the staffer with him appear from behind the boys' cabins, traveling at a jog. The sniper altered his course slightly so that he would be able to meet with Boomer and walk with her the rest of the way back to the truck.
Do-Right loped back down the hill from the empty groundskeeper's cabin toward the offices. As he looked to his right, he saw Ghost emerge from the wooded trails, his trench coat flapping and hat threatening to fly off with his movement. Beside the hunter trotted a young man who looked to be just older than the deputy. Their paths converged near the main pavilion, and they walked the rest of the way to the offices together. It soon became obvious to Do-Right that the man with Ghost stayed as far away as possible from the arts director who accompanied Do-Right. The young deputy was being as vague as possible when the arts director asked why they were returning.
Heavy had just started to pull the strange piece of meat out of the walk-in cooler in the main kitchen when Ghost called Six and confirmed the infestation. Looking at the child-sized human arm in his hands, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, the big man realized that the cook had been turned as well.
The machine gunner looked up as the door to the cooler slowly opened. The cook stood in the doorway with a large cleaver in his hand. The man had a strange glint in his eye, and he flashed a grin filled with razor sharp teeth.
"I see you found my secret ingredient," the cook said. "Hey, it saves on the budget, and none of the non-enlightened kids ever knew."
&nbs
p; "But don't worry," the cook added. "Your friends won't last long enough to tell anybody."
The man stepped toward Heavy.
"Catch!" said Heavy, and he tossed the arm to the unsuspecting cook.
The momentary pause and flinch of the cook gave the agent enough time to draw his khukuri. The blades once again glowed a faint green.
The cook lunged forward, and Heavy swung with the blades.
As he swung, Heavy tripped over some of the meat that had fallen on the floor of the cooler, and he fell face first, wildly swinging the blades. One of the khukuri went skittering across the floor and under one of the wire racks. The other one bit deeply into the lower leg of the creature, almost cutting clean through.
The creature stumbled and was unable to swing its own blade at the agent. Sitting back on his backside, Heavy fumbled with the shotgun that hung at his side. Bringing it to bear, he was only able to hold it with one hand. He pulled the trigger for a long pull. The fully automatic shotgun roared, sending ten rounds of silver and wood twelve gauge slugs through the torso and head of the vampire. The creature shuddered and dropped to the floor.
And then all hell broke loose.
29
CAMP
BLUE MOUNTAIN RANCH, FLORISSANT, COLORADO
Six watched as his team approached the War Wagon. Boomer was holding the hand of her young witness while the rifle instructor was keeping pace with God. Do-Right and Ghost jogged across the field with the arts director and an adult, who Six did not recognize, in step. The roar of a full-auto shotgun filled the air.
Six heard the rear hatch of the truck begin to drop as he quickly keyed his mic and said, "Heavy, Six. What happened?"
The team heard the machine gunner's panting reply. "I'm good boss. The cook was a nightcrawler... must be the new kind."
Boomer raised her shotgun and pointed it at the arts director, but Boomer was hesitant to pull the trigger. The woman raised her hands and took a few steps back as she began to sob and nervously babble.
INCURSION: Knightmare (Knight's Bane Trilogy Book 1) Page 27