Department 19: The Rising

by Will Hill

  “Ted,” she said, softly. “We’re not going to hurt you. We’re going to get you out of here, and we’re going to take you somewhere safe. But I need you to put this on for me, OK?”

  Ted looked at the belt in her hand; a flicker of fear crossed his face, but he slowly sat up nonetheless. She helped him lift his arms and slide the harness over his shoulders, then clipped it in place over his heart. She pulled a cylindrical detonator from her belt and twisted it a single click to the right. Red lights appeared on the two devices, then she replaced the detonator in its loop.

  “I need you to stay here, Ted,” she said. “We’ll be back for you as soon as we check whether everyone else is OK. We’re not going to leave you here. I promise.”

  Ted nodded his head, and then smiled, a crooked grin that lit up his aged features.

  “What is it?” Kate asked, smiling back.

  “You remind me of my granddaughter,” said Ted. “She’s always telling me what to do as well.”

  “You just wait here for us to come back, and hopefully you’ll get to see her again soon. All right?”

  Ted nodded again, and Kate stood up.

  Squad G-17 looked at each other; there were things to be said, but all three knew it was not the time to say them. Instead, Jamie lowered his visor into place, and the two girls did likewise.

  “Let’s see who else is still here,” he said.

  Squad G-17 moved quickly along the remainder of the corridor, checking the rooms on both sides.

  They found evidence of struggle, they found spilled blood, and in one room they found the tattered remains of an elderly man who had been literally pulled apart. Kate gagged at the sight, at the thick smell of blood in the small room, and Jamie pulled her quickly back into the corridor and closed the door. He held her shoulder for a long moment, then told her there was nothing she could do. After a second, she nodded, and they moved on, until the three Operators were standing outside the last room at the end of the corridor.

  Jamie eased the door open, and heard a series of gasps from the darkness. He felt for the light switch, found it, flicked it on and stepped into the room, with Larissa and Kate behind him. The bed had been turned on its side and set on the floor at an angle to the walls, creating a triangular space behind it, which had been covered by the stripped mattress. It looked like the kind of fort children would make when playing, the kind you could pretend was a Rebel Alliance base or the secret lair of a Bond villain. They stepped forward, and Larissa pulled the mattress aside.

  Beneath it, piled together in a cowering mass of pale skin and nightclothes, were twelve of the residents of the Twilight Care Home. Twelve pairs of eyes stared up at the three black-clad figures, wide with fright and damp with tears. For a long moment, no one moved, or said a word. Then Jamie gripped the bed, and pulled it aside.

  An old woman, her body pressed tightly against a man who Jamie guessed was her husband, cried out, and grabbed pitifully for the bed frame, as if the flimsy grid of metal and springs was all that was protecting them from the fate that had befallen so many of their fellow residents. Her husband shushed her, stroking her hair with a gnarled, arthritic hand, staring defiantly at the blank purple visage of the figure that had crouched down in front of them.

  “Get it over with,” he spat.

  Jamie recoiled, then suddenly realised how frightening his appearance must be to these terrified survivors. He quickly pushed the visor away from his face, and looked down at the huddled men and women.

  “Thank God,” whispered an elderly lady, gripping a silver cross tightly in her hand. “Oh, thank God.”

  “You’re safe,” said Jamie, in as comforting a voice as he could manage. His throat was tight at the thought of the ordeal these men and women had been through. “They’re gone, you’re safe. I promise.”

  Several of the survivors began to cry, and he heard a gasp of sorrow through the earpiece in his helmet. He glanced round, saw that Larissa and Kate had also lifted their visors, and that Kate was holding a hand over her mouth.

  “Is anyone hurt?” he asked, returning his attention to the cowering men and women. “Does anyone need a doctor?”

  The survivors looked at each other, and shook their heads, one by one.

  “Good,” said Jamie. “That’s good. Can you all walk?”

  “We can walk,” said the man who had spoken. “We can all walk fine.”

  “OK,” said Jamie. “I need you to walk down to the ground floor, and out of the building through the main door. There are police outside, who’ll take care of you. But I need you to go now. All right?”

  The men and women murmured their agreement. Jamie took one woman’s hand, and gently lifted her to her feet. She stared at him, her face a mixture of confusion and naked relief. Larissa and Kate leant forward and began to do the same, and quickly the room was full as the survivors were helped to their feet.

  Jamie took hold of the shoulder of the man who had spoken.

  “I need you to lead them out,” he said. “Can you do that? I need you to be honest with me.”

  “I can do that,” he replied, staring into Jamie’s eyes.

  “Good. Do it now, please.”

  The man held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded sharply, and walked steadily towards the door. The rest of the survivors followed him; a moment later, they were gone.

  Squad G-17 stared at each other. Jamie gave both girls a fierce smile of pride, and led them out of the room, towards the communal hall at the other end of the corridor, steeling himself as he did so for what they might find behind its large double doors.

  The huge room was empty.

  Jamie pushed the doors open with the barrel of his T-Bone, and the squad slipped into the hall with their weapons at their shoulders, ready for the worst their imaginations could conjure.

  But it was empty.

  Small circles of plastic chairs were still gathered round metal tables, on which chess sets and draughts boards still stood, and tea sets and piles of small plates remained unbroken. The long table to their right, where meals were served to the residents, was upright. A small television sat in the corner of the room in front of a semi-circle of moth-eaten sofas, playing BBC News 24 at a volume that was barely audible. Punishing fluorescent lights still blazed overhead, giving the room the sickly feeling of a vast operating theatre.

  They spread out, searching every square inch for blood or signs of violence, but found none. They regrouped in the middle of the huge room, and raised their visors.

  “Whoever did this is gone,” said Jamie. “I think they took some of the residents with them, but they’re gone. There’s nothing for us to do here.”

  “Agreed,” said Kate. “We should get out of here.”

  Larissa opened her mouth to concur, then her eyes suddenly exploded with a red darker than Jamie had ever seen before, a red that was almost black. She fell to her knees, her fangs involuntarily sliding into view, her nostrils flaring, her head twisted back and her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

  “What’s wrong?” shouted Jamie, dropping to his knees beside her, and grabbing her shoulders. “Larissa, what is it?”

  “We’re… dead,” she gasped, her throat convulsing. “He’s… coming.”

  “Dracula?” asked Kate, her voice tight with terror.

  “No… it’s—”

  Then the ceiling above them exploded, and the three Operators were sent crashing to the ground by a torrent of tumbling lead and flying plaster.

  Larissa was the first to her feet, before the thick cloud of dust began to clear. The paralysis that had gripped her was broken, and a guttural growl emerged from her throat as she hauled Jamie and Kate to their feet.

  “Stay behind me,” she said, softly. She was staring into the swirling dust at the far end of the room. “Both of you stay behind me.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Kate. “What is it, Larissa?”

  “Be quiet,” Larissa hissed. Her head was twitching to the left and right,
like an animal searching for a scent on the air. She had thrown her helmet aside, and Jamie and Kate did the same; the visual filters were useless in the dense dust. Jamie put a placatory hand on her shoulder, and manoeuvred them both in behind Larissa.

  “There,” whispered Larissa, raising a single finger.

  In the direction she was pointing, two dark shapes could be seen through the thinning cloud.

  “Identify yourself!” shouted Jamie, pointing his T-Bone at the taller of the two figures. “Identify yourself right now!”

  A laugh floated through the dust, a high laugh full of genuine amusement. Then the last of the dust settled, and Squad G-17 saw what had caused the wide hole in the ceiling above them, through which a handful of stars could be seen.

  “Oh God,” whispered Kate.

  Standing before them, less than four metres away, was Valentin Rusmanov.

  His pale, elegant face was instantly recognisable; the face of one of the three most wanted vampires in the world, one of the three Generals turned by Dracula himself more than four hundred years ago, a face that was now smiling warmly at the three black-clad figures standing before him.

  “I flatter myself that the looks on your faces mean you recognise me,” he said, his voice soft and smooth. “However, a gentleman always introduces himself. I am Valentin Rusmanov, and this is my associate, Lamberton.”

  He extended a thin arm, clad in the sleeve of an immaculate navy blue suit, and the second figure stepped forward. It was a vampire in his fifties, clad in an equally beautifully tailored tuxedo. He dipped his head in a perfunctory bow, then stepped back a respectful distance behind his master, next to an utterly incongruous pile of elegant, dark leather luggage.

  “You, of course, are Jamie Carpenter,” said Valentin, and red flickered momentarily in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know your companions, however. Perhaps you would be good enough to introduce us?”

  “Certainly,” said Jamie, staring at the ancient vampire, his heart racing in his chest, his mind screaming at him to stall for time. “These are Department 19 Operators Larissa Kinley and Kate Randall.”

  “A pleasure to meet you both,” said Valentin, smiling widely. “And a genuine, long-awaited delight to meet you, Mr Carpenter. You look very much like your grandfather, did you know that?”

  Jamie frowned, disarmed by Valentin’s friendly tone. “My grandfather?” he asked.

  “John Carpenter,” replied Valentin. “He was only a few years older than you are now when I met him for the first time. He was a somewhat unexpected guest in my home in New York, not much less than a century ago. He was extremely brave, which I’m told is something you and he have in common. Or have I been misinformed?”

  “Why don’t we find out?” growled Larissa. “Or are you just going to bore everyone to death?”

  Valentin stared at her for a long moment, then burst out laughing.

  “Oh, my child,” he said. “I’m not here to fight with you. If I wanted you dead, surely you realise that you already would be?”

  “Then what do you want?” asked Jamie, stepping forward. “Why are you here? Why did you do this to these people?”

  A momentary look of confusion passed across the ancient vampire’s face, before realisation dawned on him.

  “You think I attacked this place?” he asked. “My dear Mr Carpenter, you must think so little of me. No, the vampires who did this departed more than twenty minutes since. I can take you to them, if you wish to destroy them?”

  “Why would you do that?” asked Jamie. “They’re your own kind. They’re the same as you.”

  Valentin’s face clouded with anger. “There is no one the same as me,” he hissed. “No one.” Then his smile returned. “I just thought you might be interested. That is what you do, after all, is it not? Destroy vampires?”

  “That’s what we do,” said Kate, firmly.

  “Indeed. And I’m sure you all do it wonderfully well. But I’m afraid you are no match, no match whatsoever, for what is coming. Which is why I’m here, enjoying this pleasant conversation with you all.”

  “We know what’s coming,” spat Jamie. “We know about Dracula. Why aren’t you at his side where you belong?”

  “Because I choose not to be,” replied Valentin, smoothly. “I choose instead to be here with you three fine young people.”

  “Why? What do you want from us?”

  “I want to help you, obviously.”

  “Stop talking in riddles!” shouted Jamie. “Tell me what you want!”

  Valentin’s smile disappeared. “Mr Carpenter, I have no intention of spending the foreseeable future fighting a war that will likely result in the deaths of the majority of the people on this planet. I enjoy my life, and to be entirely honest with you, I enjoy people. They are so admirably determined.”

  “And?” asked Jamie. “Where do we come in?”

  “I’m offering you a deal,” replied Valentin. “I’m offering to help you defeat Dracula, and my dear brother. Once they are destroyed, you will give me complete immunity from the attentions of your organisation, and all its equivalents, in perpetuity. I want to be free to continue to live my life, for as long as it lasts.”

  “Never,” growled Larissa. “We will never give you a licence to murder innocent people.”

  Valentin smiled at her. “Believe me, little girl, the tiny number of souls that I require to fulfil my appetites pales into insignificance compared to the thousands and millions who will die if Dracula is allowed to regain his full strength.”

  “I don’t care,” said Kate, and the strength in her voice almost broke Jamie’s heart. “That’s not what we do. Ever.”

  “Really?” asked Valentin, his voice as slippery as a snake. “I see something in your friend’s eyes that tells me he thinks differently. Don’t you, Mr Carpenter?”

  Jamie’s stomach squirmed, as he realised that the ancient vampire was right.

  He was thinking about it, thinking how if what Valentin was saying was true, then the youngest of the three brothers’ power could help to even the odds. He was thinking about what would happen if he arrived at the Loop with the world’s third oldest vampire beside him, promising to help them defeat his master. But he was mostly thinking about Dracula; he had seen Alexandru Rusmanov up close, felt the elemental power of the ancient monster, like a terrible force of nature, and his stomach was churning at the thought of a vampire who was allegedly so many times worse.

  “Jamie?” said Larissa, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him to face her. “Tell me you aren’t considering this? Please?”

  Jamie looked over her shoulder, to where Kate was staring at him with an expression of disgust, then back to his girlfriend’s pale, crimson-glowing face.

  “What if he’s telling the truth?” he replied. “If we don’t find Dracula and Valeri before Zero Hour, then we’re going to need all the help we can get. He could be useful.”

  “You’re right, Mr Carpenter,” said Valentin, from behind him. “I could be.”

  “We can’t trust him, Jamie,” said Larissa, her voice full of pleading. “We could never, ever trust him. Not for a second.”

  “I know that,” said Jamie. “Of course I know that. But I destroyed his brother, and he’s standing here talking to us. Maybe he means what he says.”

  Behind Jamie, Valentin’s eyes flared momentarily red at the mention of the destruction of Alexandru. “Listen to him, girl,” the ancient vampire suggested. “He is your superior, is he not? I trust the youngest Seward made him so for a reason.”

  Valentin, who had more than four centuries of experience at reading people and situations, had chosen his words carefully, and they had exactly the effect he had intended. The mention of Jamie’s rank hit Kate and Larissa hard, and their faces betrayed them; Kate’s mouth curled down at the edges, as though she had tasted something extremely sour, and the red light in Larissa’s eyes dimmed as she released her grip on Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie saw it all, and felt his hear
t harden.

  To hell with you then, he thought. It’s not my fault. I didn’t ask for any of this.

  “I believe him,” he said. Kate and Larissa opened their mouths to protest, but Jamie never gave them the chance.

  “Enough!” he yelled, his voice astonishingly loud in the empty room. Surprise burst on both of the girls’ faces, their eyes wide, their mouths perfect circles. Jamie had never spoken to either of them in such a way, and neither of them had been prepared for it. He saw his chance, and pressed his advantage.

  “I’m the leader of this squad!” he shouted. “Not either of you! Me! If you have objections, you can make them back at the Loop. If you want to file a complaint against me, I’ll take you to Seward’s office myself. But for right now, just SHUT THE HELL UP AND LET ME DO MY JOB!”

  He stared at them, his breath coming in harsh bursts, like a panting dog. Adrenaline was coursing through him, and he was hoping that one or other of them would challenge him.

  But neither girl said a thing. Larissa and Kate just stared at him, expressions of painful disappointment on their faces. He returned their stares for a long moment, then turned back to the end of the room.

  “Valentin Rusmanov,” he said, and the ancient vampire inclined his head. “I’m placing you under arrest, for transportation to the Department 19 central facility. The decision to accept or refuse your offer is not mine to make, and I give no guarantee as to what that decision will be. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly,” replied Valentin, a beaming smile rising on to his handsome face. “I am confident that I can convince Mr Seward of the merits of a truce between us.”

  “Good. I doubt our usual restraining harnesses will have much effect on you, but I’m going to ask you both to wear them anyway, as a show of good faith, if nothing else. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Not at all, Mr Carpenter,” said Valentin. “It will be our pleasure.”

  Jamie led his squad and his prisoners back into the corridor, and down the stairs to the second floor. The adrenaline was wearing off, and he was starting to feel sick about the way he had spoken to his friends. But it was too late to do anything about it now; he would just have to hope that the journey back to the Loop would give them enough time to begin to understand why he had done what he had.