“Whoa, man! How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
Acheson pulled out his ID, and shoved the Homeland Security photo ID into his face.
“Happy now?” he asked curtly.
“Oh, fuck. Listen, I can’t—” Patrick glanced at the hard faces surrounding him, then swiped his ID card through the card reader next to the foyer door. The lock clicked open loudly, and Acheson pushed him through the door. Cecil held it open for the rest of the team.
Patrick looked around, and sighed when he saw no one else in sight. “The bodies’re downstairs. Stairs are over there, elevators are over there.” He pointed out each.
“We’ll take the stairs.”
They followed Patrick down the stairwell. When they reached the final landing, Acheson pulled him back from the door. He glanced back at Sharon, who stood behind him with Cecil. Chiho had stopped the rest of the team on the upper landing and leaned against the wall. She’d drawn her suppressed MP-5 and had her machete on her hip. Patrick eyed this with a mix of suspicion and apprehension.
“So what’s with all the guns?”
Acheson ignored him. “Sharon?”
“They’re awake. That’s all I know.”
“On this floor?”
Sharon chewed her lower lip. “I think so.”
“Man up,” Acheson told the team. He dropped his duffel bag and opened it. Patrick’s eyes bugged when he saw the evil-looking AA-12 shotgun and the stakes.
“Man, the people down here are already dead!” He backed against the cinderblock wall, eyes wide.
“Relax, Patrick. We’re not the ones you need to worry about.” Acheson jerked his chin toward the door. “What’s the layout in there?”
“Uh… autopsy room’s on this side,” he said, pointing toward the wall at Acheson’s right, “and the door here opens onto a hallway. Bodies are down this way, in the crypt.” He jerked a thumb toward the wall behind him. “And there’s a couple of offices for the pathologists. Forensics lab is right before the crypt, and maybe a janitor’s closet.”
“Who else is here?” Cecil asked. He had just pulled the SAW from its big duffel and was in the process of slinging it from his shoulder by its patrol strap.
“Maybe the cleaners. I was working late, getting in some OT.”
“Any more locked doors we need to know about?” Acheson rose to his feet and kicked his duffel bag against the wall. Cecil tossed his duffel on top of Acheson’s.
“No. Listen, what—”
“You don’t want to know.” Acheson glanced over his shoulder as Nacho joined him, followed by Rick. The stairway landing was getting crowded. Nacho shouldered his MP-5. His bulky body armor made him look like a football player wearing a black trench coat.
“Fight’s on,” Acheson said. He yanked open the stairwell door and flung himself into the hallway, keeping to the left. Nacho followed and moved to the right. Rick went next, sliding across the hallway on his knees, MP-5 shouldered and pointed to the left, to where the crypt was supposed to be.
The lit hallway was deserted. Acheson remained in his crouch, panning the barrel of the AA-12 back and forth. At the end of the corridor was a steel door like those on a walk-in refrigerator. It was closed.
“Clear left,” Acheson said, broadcasting over his transceiver.
“Clear right,” Nacho reported.
“Team in,” Acheson ordered. “Robert, you and Claudia take Patrick upstairs and hunker down until you receive an all-clear from one of us.”
“Roger that.”
“Hey man, you said I could go!” Patrick whined from the stairwell.
“I lied. Now shut up and do what the people with the guns tell you to do.”
The rest of the team entered the hallway, splitting off into two elements. Chiho led her element to the right, canvassing the autopsy room and an office. Acheson led his element, composed of Cecil and Nacho, toward the crypt. Acheson and Nacho remained in front while Cecil trailed twenty feet behind. The door to the forensics lab was locked. Acheson sidled up and looked through the mesh-reinforced window in the door. Most of the lights in the room were out, leaving the equipment and workstations shrouded in shadow. Nothing seemed out of place. He pointed toward the crypt door and fell to one knee.
“Forensics lab looks clear. Door’s locked, so can’t really check it out. Two-Five?”
Both Chiho and Sharon started to answer at the same time. Acheson groaned. No one had thought to assign Sharon a new call-sign before they left. After a brief pause, Chiho’s voice filled the uncomfortable void. “Autopsy room is locked, but clear. Offices clear.”
“Sharon, you’re now Three-Zero. Come forward to my position.”
“Roger that, Two-Six.” A moment later, Sharon was easing into a crouch beside Acheson, her MP-5 at her hip. She stared at the crypt door.
“Well?” he said.
She nodded. “In there. I think they’re still waking.”
“Team forward!” Acheson rose to his feet and held back Sharon with one hand. “Not you. Stay at the rear, wait until I call for you.”
He didn’t wait for her to protest, just continued toward the door. It opened outward, which was good in that nothing could hide behind it when they pulled it open, but bad in that it would make the actual ingress more cumbersome. And blasting it off its hinges with plastic explosives wasn’t wise, as the hallway would channel a lot of energy right back at the team. They would have to go in one at a time.
Acheson waved Rick forward. The bigger man hurried up and assumed Acheson’s position as he fell back a few steps and readied his stakes. Sweat beaded on his brow, and the lining of his gloves felt damp.
“I’ll go in first,” he said. “Jules, you up to giving me hand?”
Julia smiled humorlessly and slung her MP-5. “If I must.”
“Cecil, you and Nacho provide security. If they get past us, pin them down long enough for Chiho and Rick to finish ‘em off. Rick, ready for prime time?”
Rick snorted, eyes glued to the crypt door. “Is it too late to borrow a pair of Cecil’s Depends?”
“You’ll do fine.” Acheson looked up from his work and saw Sharon staring at him. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I should go in with you, Mark.”
Acheson shook his head. “Not a good idea.”
Sharon stepped toward him. “Stop the bullshit! I’m still a member of the team, so at least have the decency to let me haul my own weight.”
Julia screwed one of the stakes onto a telescoping pike. She glanced at Acheson, looking away before he could meet her gaze. Acheson looked at Chiho. She stared back, her face an emotionless mask.
“Hey man, if the lady says she can do it, let her,” Cecil said from behind his SAW. “We ain’t got all night!”
Acheson sighed. He didn’t like it, but Sharon and Cecil were right.
“Jules, fall back.”
Julia handed Sharon her pike as they exchanged places. Sharon swept up the knapsack with the rest of the stakes and slung it over her shoulder. She faced the crypt door.
“I’ll go in first,” she said. “I’ll take out the first one I see, then you come in for the rest.”
He nodded, and they advanced toward the door. Acheson hefted his own pike.
“Jules, get on the door,” he said.
Julia joined them at the door and grabbed its cold steel handle with both hands. “Ready here.”
“Open it,” Sharon ordered.
Julia yanked open the door. The lights came on automatically. Sharon entered, moving with purpose, as if she knew exactly where the ghouls were. Acheson hurried after her, careful not to get too close or lag too far behind. He sensed the rest of the team closing ranks behind him, establishing a perimeter and ready to seal it with firepower.
Chill air washed over them, fogging their breath. The crypt was large, much larger than Acheson had anticipated. Ahead stood a wall filled with dozens of steel cubicles. It would take a while to search all of them, and Acheson wondered if they sho
uld just sit and wait for the ghouls to come to them.
Sharon pointed at the far end of the crypt. “There,” she said. Acheson looked.
The ghoul was small and wiry, its tattooed skin like parchment paper. A Y-shaped incision stood out in stark contrast against the jaundiced flesh, as did the black hair on its head and pubic region. The vamp was completely naked, having shed the body bag it had lain in. It regarded them stupidly with gleaming eyes. It crouched over another corpse; with no other food source available, it had fanged the corpse and was trying to feed on it. When it saw Acheson and Sharon, it tore its fangs free from the lifeless husk it had dragged onto the floor and coiled itself into a crouch.
“Heeeeeeeeeee,” it squealed. Whether it was a laugh or an attempt at speech, Acheson couldn’t tell.
“Got one in the open,” he transmitted. “No signs of any others yet—”
The ghoul shrieked and ran toward them on all fours like a dog, snapping its jaws. It closed on Sharon, and she drew back a step, wielding the pike before her. The ghoul paid no attention to the stake, but it shifted its hellish gaze toward Acheson. A peal of cackling laughter escaped its bloodless lips as it bounded toward him, ignoring Sharon altogether.
Sharon sank the stake into its side. The vamp shrieked and twisted about, its talons tearing into the rubber mats on the floor. The creature recoiled, pulling the stake free as it fell onto its back. Hissing, it backpedaled away from her, but Sharon leaped forward. This time her accuracy was dead-on, and the ghoul shrieked as the stake smashed through its ribcage, tearing open the stitch work that held its breastplate in place. Black ichor boiled out, thick and syrupy, as the ghoul twitched and shuddered. It had all happened in the space of three seconds, and Acheson had barely taken that many steps forward.
A deafening wail sounded as something exploded from one of the cubbyholes behind him. He whirled as a plastic-encased form slammed into him, driving him to the cold floor. He caught a glimpse of a face behind opaque plastic, its mouth yawning open, fangs tearing through the shroud as they descended toward his neck.
Acheson jerked to his right, putting a few more inches between him and the fangs. He couldn’t get the stake in position, the angles were all wrong. He powered his left arm between them as the thrashing ghoul tore through the body bag. He grabbed its neck and pushed it away. In life, the ghoul had been a small man, and it didn’t weigh more than 130 pounds. It snarled at him, most of its face still hidden behind the opaque plastic that shrouded it, but Acheson sensed a tickle from its hypnotic gaze. He levered it as far away from him as possible, then wedged his right leg between them. Planting his foot on the ghoul’s narrow chest, he kicked with all his might. The vampire flew backwards and slammed into the steel cubbies. Without any hesitation, it scrambled toward him again, hands outstretched. Acheson allowed the ghoul to skewer itself on the stake he swung into position. The diminutive vampire shuddered and squealed. The pike’s length served to keep them apart as Acheson struggled to his feet and pinned to the floor. The vampire’s squeals dwindled to a muted gurgle as black ichor streamed from its mouth. It pawed at the stake for a moment, then went limp.
“Behind you!” Sharon shouted.
Acheson crouched and let go of the pike with his right hand. He pulled his Sig P220 from its holster when he saw the three other ghouls gathered near the door at the other end of the crypt. They were between them and the exit, but not yet in the team’s line of sight. From the hallway, they couldn’t see everything that was going on.
“Team, you’ve got three by the door! There’s not a lot of cover in here, so if you have to open up, be careful.”
“Understood, Two-Six,” Chiho said.
The trio of ghouls glared at Acheson and Sharon with hungry eyes. The two nearest the door were hunched over, hands twisted into claws, jaws opening and closing methodically, like fish breathing. The third one, closer to them, was coiled like a serpent, ready to spring. Sharon stepped forward. She had already mounted another stake on the end of her pike, holding it in one hand. Her pistol was in the other.
“Get set up,” she said. “I’ve got them.”
Acheson holstered his pistol and twisted his pike, disconnecting it from the stake embedded in the ghoul. The corpse slid to the floor in a spreading pool of brackish, foul-smelling fluid. As he crouched down and fixed another stake to the pike’s canon-mount, he watched the trio of vampires from the corner of his eye. They were staring right at him. Not at both of them—only him.
“They don’t seem interested in you,” he said.
“I’d noticed. I guess I’m more like them than you.”
Acheson rose to his feet. He transferred the pike to his left hand, and grabbed the pistol-grip of his AA-12 with his right. With it hanging from his shoulder by its patrol strap, he swung the barrel around until it pointed at the crouching ghoul.
“I’ll blast that guy in front. That ought to distract him enough for us to take out at least one of the others.”
Sharon nodded. “Good plan.”
Acheson rolled his shoulders for an instant, then fine-tuned his aim. It was tough to sight on the vampire without making eye contact with it, but if he did, that would be it for him.
“On three. One… two…”
The three ghouls suddenly spun around and fled. Acheson fired but missed his target. The three vampires launched themselves from the crypt like bullets from a gun. Cecil’s big SAW went off, echoed by the muted clatter of suppressed MP-5s. Cecil swore over the radio net.
“Thanks for the Goddamned warning!”
“Two-Six and Three-Zero coming out!” Acheson reported. He made for the door, still clutching his AA-12 by its pistol grip. Sharon was close behind, already breaking down her pike. They stepped out of the refrigerated crypt just as the three ghouls rocketed past the rest of the team without even slowing. Several bullets found their mark, but the vampires continued on—except for one. Acheson dropped his pike and raised his shotgun to his shoulder as it spun around and hissed at him, its back arched like a cat’s. Its two companions ran straight to the elevator and tore the doors open.
The AA-12 bucked as Acheson fired past the first ghoul. He caught one of the others with a few pellets of silver-plated double-ought shot, but the ghoul didn’t pause as it scuttled up the elevator shaft like a giant cockroach, followed by its companion. The third ghoul had attracted the team’s firepower. At least a dozen 5.56 millimeter and 9 millimeter rounds had torn through its pale, desiccated body. Flaps of skin had fallen away, exposing ichor-covered bone. It hissed once more before bolting for the elevator. Chiho ran after it, drawing her machete. She thrust it upward through the elevator doors, but missed her target.
“Upstairs!” Acheson shouted.
9
Claudia and Patrick turned when they heard the sudden volley of gunfire from below. It sounded distant, more like firecrackers than anything else.
“What’s that?” Patrick asked.
“Come over here,” Ellenshaw said, leading Claudia by the arm toward a dark waiting room just inside the second security door.
“Man, enough of this shit,” Patrick said. “I’m out of here. You guys want to shoot the place up? Fine, but—”
His words were drowned out by the squeal of tortured metal. Patrick looked back down the hallway just as the elevator doors slid open. Ellenshaw yanked him into the waiting room.
“Quiet!” he said through clenched teeth. He pushed them down onto a thinly cushioned couch and flicked off the safety on his MP-5. As he moved away from them, his leg bumped an end table, knocking some magazines to the floor. He shouldered his weapon.
“This is Two-Six. Ellenshaw, you’ve got three ghouls heading in your direction!”
No sooner had Acheson’s voice faded than the ghouls in question appeared. They hurtled down the hallway, one on all fours, another hunched over like a frightened cat, and the other crawling on the ceiling like some enormous insect. Ellenshaw heard Patrick’s sharp intake of breath. Claud
ia was as silent as death.
The first ghoul slammed into the security door at full speed and bounced off. The second met with the same fate, but the two ghouls worked together and smashed into it as if of one mind. The glass in the center of the door fractured, then shattered as the first ghoul hurled itself through, unmindful of the lacerations left by the glass shards. The two other ghouls followed, snarling and hissing. The three of them attacked the outer door with a vengeance, slamming into it again and again. Ellenshaw swallowed nervously. What if they couldn’t get out?
He didn’t have to worry. He heard the outer door fail as it tore away from its hinges and bounced across the concrete outside. The ghouls charged out into the night, their feet kicking up shattered glass as they ran.
Patrick moaned. “What the fuck was that?”
Ellenshaw hurried to the doorway and peered around the inner door’s frame. The foyer was empty, and the outer door was indeed gone. He stepped into the foyer, glass crunching beneath his boots. Behind him, he heard running footsteps, and he wisely stepped to his left. Acheson thundered past, followed by Rick Wallace and Nacho Delgado. They held their weapons close to their bodies, looking into the night.
“Robert, which way did they go?” Acheson asked.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Ellenshaw stepped outside, joining the other men. He glanced up and caught a glimpse of something along the roofline of the building. He pointed.
“Up there!”
Acheson reached for the small transmitter on his belt and switched frequencies. “SHADOW, this is Two-Six, over.”
Zaslow’s voice came back. “Two-Six, this is SHADOW, over.”
“SHADOW, Two-Six. I need you to look around with your FLIR. Can you see anyone running along the rooftops? We’re looking for three hostiles, over.”
“Stand by.” In the near distance, Acheson could hear the MH-60’s rotor beats. They changed pitch as the aircraft broke its orbit to come around and give its chin-mounted forward-looking infrared scanner a better viewing angle. While Acheson waited, the rest of the team gathered around him.
“Two-Six, this is SHADOW. Roger, we’ve got three, uh… people running through the parking lot headed toward the hospital. They’re tough to track, they aren’t showing up well through the FLIR. Over.”
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