by Jeff Seats
On the other hand, no one would be able to understand the relationship she had with her mother either. Liz accepted her eccentricities, but there would be no way in the world she would want Craig to witness her mother dancing around naked in the backyard with her Wiccan lady friends ushering in the solstice. To each her or his own but, on occasion, it was best to keep some things private.
She continued watching Craig. This was not the top agent she had first met. That man was intense and unforgiving in how he approached the job and demanded others followed suit. She knew it was mostly because of the nature of the work. People died when they let their guard down around any of the monsters —especially those that had a particular need to feed on human blood.
But this man, the one sleeping next to her, had changed. Had lost his edge. Recently, when they were in Utah hunting free radicals, she got first-hand confirmation his concentration was off. He seemed more preoccupied with her safety than the mission, which played out in near disaster for them both.
It was high noon when they arrived at the unfinished housing development snugged up to the base of the Oquirth mountains south of Salt Lake City. A tumbled down sign read:
Welcome to
Brigham Canyon Estates.
View Lots
Starting in The Low 100s.
The developers apparently had big plans for this property until the Kennecott Copper Mine fell on financial troubles in the early 1980s. Actually located just up the slope from Copperton, Utah, it was destined to be the “in sub-division” for the entire region. Now all that remained were paved streets leading to empty lots. Stakes, some still with survey tape clinging to them, indicated one parcel of land from the next. The occasional electrical service drop dotted the area—resembling submarine parascopes—sprouting up out of the sea of brown prairie grass.
Further up the slope stood several unfinished houses. Some with just the beginnings of a foundation poured, others stood with their 2x4 skeletal frames silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky; looking like the carcasses of long-dead mythical beasts.
At the top of the abandoned subdivision, tattered triangular flags, colors long since faded, fluttered in a breeze celebrating the cul-de-sac of four finished model homes. Weathered—For Sale—signs still stood waiting to attract the right family.
A drop in the world copper market may have foreshadowed the end of the developer’s big plans. But the rumors of the area being haunted, along with the unexplained deaths of workers, county inspectors, and real-estate agents, kept the unrealized neighborhood undisturbed.
Crowning it all off at the top of the slope was an ancient, slouching two-story farmhouse standing as a silent guardian over the entire site. Its gray Dutch-lap siding harkening back to the early homestead that once dominated this land. The old farmhouse seemed a more likely location for a vampire lair, but their information pointed to the show homes.
They entered the first of the four houses and found it stuffy, dark and empty. Empty, as in no furnishings or any slumbering vamps. They brushed the rotted curtains aside; stirring up dancing dust particles in the beams of sunlight just in case any surprises were hiding in the shadows, but didn’t even scare up a mouse. Same for the next two houses.
Craig took point as they entered the last house and indicated in an overly dramatic hand gesture that Liz should stay by the door. At the time this pissed her off, and she was going to give him a piece of her mind about his patriarchal attitude when the job was finished, but then a small girl wandered into the room in front of him. She was a cute little thing, if a bit hungry-looking, which for some reason Craig couldn’t see or was being manipulated into lowering his guard. He must have connected her to the girl from the bus and her plight.
He followed her into the dark recesses of the house as if she were a normal child. That was when four women wearing flowing, tattered dresses, more like ball gowns from the 1800s entered, surrounding him. Then, out of the darkest shadows, a male materialized from a cloud of swirling black fibrous threads.
Immediately, the scene reminded Liz of the old Hammer Dracula movies. There was Christopher Lee, commanding his harem of beautiful vampires, (in various degrees of undress), to attack the unwitting human. With arms outstretched in stereotypical Hammer way, the females moved in closer to Craig. She could almost hear them chanting, “I vant to suck your blood!” But not quite.
And yet, for some unexplainable reason, Craig remained motionless, not responding to the threat. He had been mesmerized by the girl, or the male, or all of them. But another thought had crossed her mind that Craig, seeing the overwhelming numbers, had made the decision to offer himself up as a decoy so that she could escape.
But Liz wanted no part of his skewed heroics. It was evident there would be no reasoning with this family of vampires. No convincing them of retiring to Vamp Town. Whatever Craig was really doing was not her concern. Living was. Instantly she threw open the door and dashed around the interior of the house tearing down the curtains and opening other doors to let the afternoon sun stream into the darkness. Her quick action caught most of the vamps by surprise; exposing enough of their skin to the burning UVR of the daylight for their innards to begin to combust. Those that didn’t immediately react to the light were helped along with silver 9mm rounds from her gun straight to their hearts; leaving Craig surrounded by five burbling piles of putrefying goo.
And somehow the little girl still stood, unharmed, between the crisscrossing beams of light, reaching out her hand towards the unmoving Craig. Then the girl began to advance towards him, visibly salivating from the hunger that must have been consuming her. Liz did not hesitate, she rushed in and pushed him aside, while at the same time kicking the child through an open door and out onto the porch. Her eyes flared open with shock as her organs began to vaporize and roil out of her nose, mouth, and ears. The look of fear on her face was all that Liz could remember as her body distended and then imploded on itself into a seething mess of red slop joining her father and mothers on their journey to hell, or wherever vampires went when they died.
The intel on this family of vamps included a daguerreotype of the whole group. A proud husband and father with his four wives and seven children in front of their two-story house with white-washed, Dutch-lap siding.
It didn’t take long for them to find the other six children still at rest in their boxes, lined up in the basement of the big house. Craig was apparently lost in some sort of moral crisis, or whatever. It didn’t really matter what it was called at the moment. He was all but useless. So she left him in his stupor, outside in the afternoon sun, while she performed the remainder of the dirty work; staking each one in the heart and cutting off their heads. They may have each been more than 100 years old, but to Liz, they looked like kids sleeping sweetly in their beds of soil. It was grizzly work, and the images were not easily washed from her mind.
Yes, something was sure going on with her partner, but he wasn’t talking. What was she supposed to do the next time? Because there would be a next time, and another, and another, until they found Vlad and put an end to him or, God forbid, he put an end to them.
THE DOOR TO the conference room stood open as an invitation to walk directly in. Still, Craig hesitated just a few paces away. Yes, the meeting had been scheduled. Yes, he knew that Vlad may have been located. Yet things didn’t seem right. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly why he was so skittish about almost everything lately, but surprises usually lead to death. And he was tired of seeing his friends die. Of course, it was irrational for him to expect a sneak attack from a monster, in the conference room. But he had never been called to a meeting with Commander Cole in any other room except her office. She usually preferred the office where she could hide behind her big old wooden desk like it was Fort Apache, the one in the old west or the Bronx, take your pick. For her to choose the most formal room in the asylum had to mean something. And he believed that it was nothing good. Government overseers? Was the CSC going to be shut down? Wer
e they going to be sent into exile? Did they finally blame him for letting Vlad get away? He certainly blamed himself.
“This is fucking silly,” Craig said to himself, forgetting Liz was next to him.
Liz turned to him, “What?”
“Oh! I . . . uh . . . I was saying that this is where Saunders would pull out those damned matchsticks and force me to draw one,” Craig said.
“What did that do?”
“The one who pulled the short stick would go first and take the initial brunt of the bad news or have to be the one to stand up in front of the newbies during investiture.” Craig sighed and shook his head. “And I usually lost, the cheatin’ bastard.”
“Calm down big boy. I’ll be happy to take point.” Liz knew Craig felt that he was to blame for Vlad and his followers leaving the reservation. Not that it was really his fault. He had to weigh the risk/benefits of dropping the MOAB; killing them, the action team, and the good vamps, just to keep a handful of disaffected vampires from heading out into the world. It had always been understood that not all the vampires heeded Alex’s call to join him and accept the treaty. That was why there were still rogues out there that needed to be found and stopped. So the addition of a few more loose in the general population shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But then there was the Vlad factor, and there was no telling what kind of shit he intended.
They had just gotten back to the base and were the last ones to arrive. The door stood open, beckoning them to enter. Voices could be heard drifting out of the conference room—small talk, some laughing, no apparent indications of trouble. Liz grabbed Craig by the sleeve and gently pulled him towards the conference room. She knew he thought disaster lay just inside. But she was curious, and besides, what choice did they really have? Craig resisted the gentle tugging on his jacket.
“Aw come on, you big baby. This can’t be worse than a MOAB or a vampire bite—or your mother.” She grinned devilishly.
He mouthed two words in her direction, “Fuck you,” and with reluctance, loosened his leg muscles and followed Liz through the gaping mouth of doom. He kept his focus strictly on the back of her head, as he followed Liz into the conference room; forestalling the inevitable eye contact with the boss and whoever else was there waiting for them, and abruptly ran into her as she came to a halt halfway through the opening.
“Master Sergeant Terry!” Craig heard Liz exclaim. ««« ‡ »»»
THE BIG MAN stood from his place at the polished wood table, smiled and extended his open hand towards her. “Liz, it’s good to see you again and doing so well.” His hand was still extended towards her, but she remained frozen by the shock of seeing her former DI standing in front of her.
“It’s okay to shake my hand, Agent Adams. Not looking for a hug.” He winked at her, referencing the awkward moment when an exuberant trainee lost control of her emotions at the moment of learning she had been selected to become a member of this top-secret organization. “But then again, giving an old friend a hug would not be out of line, either. I’m no longer your superior.” He reached for her hand and pulled her into his friendly embrace. This man had been like a father to her. Not like her dad, per se, but a guardian and mentor. She could tell he cared about her, recognized her potential, and shepherded her through the rigors of the enhanced training program. And as a result, rode her like he rode no one else.
“What are you doing here?” Liz asked after she freed herself from his grasp.
“We’ll be getting to that soon agent Adams,” Commander Cole said.
Craig, now less tense recognizing he probably wouldn’t be roasted—this time—reached out his hand towards Terry, “I’ve heard a few things about you, Master Sergeant. Nice to put a face with the stories.”
“Well, I have touched more than one life who has wandered the halls of this facility.” He and Cole exchanged nods of recognition. “Won’t ask you what they had to say, I have a good imagination.”
Terry took his seat at the conference table. Liz moved to an empty chair, the surprise at seeing her former DI still on her face. Craig took the last open seat. Also present at the table were Ellie and Paul as well as Captain Smith, overall commander of the Action Teams.
Cole addressed the entire group. “Master Sergeant Terry, retired US Army, will be joining us at Garden Home and be a welcome addition. My good friend JR is not new to the CSC. In fact, he knows this organization quite well. He not only had been tasked with identifying the best of the best to fill our ranks,” she looked directly at Liz, “but he served a stint as an agent when he was a much younger man.”
“Hey now, let’s not get personal,” Terry said smiling.
“JR was recruited to our ‘unique outfit’ not too long after his service in Vietnam. He worked RES-SITE-ALPHA.”
“Coined the name Vamp Town,” Terry interjected rather proudly.
“Then, after ten years serving directly here, he was reassigned back to the Regular Army to help find and develop the appropriate talent that fit the Center’s mission.”
Terry leaned into the table and clasped his hands together, fingers intertwined, “I’m retired now, from the Army that is. I know the budget cuts are affecting you.” Taking a drink, he continued, “So I offered myself to be used by the CSC as Commander Cole sees fit. I’ve always been a part of this loony bin, it’d be a shame to let the knowledge I have,” he tapped his skull, “go to waste. Besides, I hate golf.”
“And we need all of the help we can get too,” Cole said sitting down. “This whole thing with Vlad escaping has spooked all our international allies. They had been content with our handling the vampire threat—complacent is closer to the actual truth—and have let their guards down over the years. If we don’t get this thing contained, we may be forced to reach out for their help. Right now the Catholic Church is the closest to ramping up their hunting efforts. The Vatican has let it be known that they are reconstituting their Swiss Guard unit no matter what, but I want to quash this before we have to involve a Pope or any other flavor of religious leader.
“So with that hanging over our heads we need to get a handle on this situation ASAP.” She looked directly into the eyes of each person sitting at the table. “I just used military jargon. I hate military jargon. I suggest we get this issue behind us because if I have to use that lingo again, heads will roll.” Cole made a long and deliberate pause. Then she let a smile crack across her stern face. “I believe you get my point.” She gave a sly wink to Terry.
Cole continued, “Today, however, finding Vlad has become more urgent than ever. Yesterday we received a video message from Vlad. Other than me, Ellie and Paul are the only ones to have seen it. Now it’s your turn. Paul?”
Paul tapped a key on his laptop, and a wall screen came to life. The blurred image of a man’s face quickly came into focus.
««« ‡ »»» VLAD FLASHED HIS corrupt smile then disappeared with a blackout. No one who had just viewed that video felt untouched by the intensity of his eyes. Each felt Vlad’s gaze as a personal violation, probing into the dark recesses of their minds.
The gathered sat staring at the blank screen, stunned by the intensity of the message.
For Master Sergeant Terry this was like an unpleasant family gathering, learning that the pervy asshole of an uncle was indeed coming to Thanksgiving dinner. Accepting the unpleasant reality of the situation, he sucked in his breath and tried to blink away the bloody imagery, focusing instead on Vlad’s words and the unambiguous threat he had made.
Liz saw this as a call to arms. How could those in government do anything other than react to this with alarm, and immediately order to quash Vlad before anything serious could happen? Serious, as in the whole fucking world could be coming to an end! Having Terry with them was a good start. She knew him to be a fierce warrior, but there was no way age had not diminished his physical abilities. His best contributions now were knowledge and wisdom. But while he was in no way decrepit, he wasn’t spry and young either, which was les
s than ideal for fighting vampires. Even Craig, she feared, was questionable. She looked across the table at her partner. His face was drained of color as though Vlad had sucked him dry through the digital ether.
Craig just sat staring at the screen as if there was still something on it. From the first moment he saw Vlad’s face come into focus he only heard the vampire’s voice speaking directly to him; mocking him for being so gullible as to have allowed him to flee. “You won’t drop that bomb on those survivors from the bus—innocents that they are. What kind of human are you? All we want is to be free to live out our lives like you.” SUCKER!
Panic threatened to consume him. He felt the blood drain from his cheeks. His breath became short and shallow. Craig sensed the room closing in and could feel all eyes probing him for weakness. But as he glanced around, he saw that no one other than Liz was paying him any attention. The others were in animated, sidebar conversations, each arguing their own theories of what should be done. Then he heard Commander Cole’s voice try to exert her authority over the room. The calmness of her words began to take hold over him as though she too was reaching into his mind; asserting her will over Vlad’s. He thought he could hear her steady voice, “Calm down, Craig. Breathe in slowly, deliberately. I need you. Do not run away from this fight.” He felt those words rather than hear them.
Craig slowly opened his eyes, saw that Liz had recognized his moment of trepidation, but no one else had. Even Cole paid him no attention. Hadn‘t she spoken to him? Clearly not because she had her hands full getting everyone else in the room to come to some order. Whatever was going on inside his head was a convoluted maze that wouldn’t be solved soon. Now he had to subdue his anxieties and lock them back into their box far away from his conscious mind. But not entirely gone. Something he might bring along to a visit with a shrink at some later date. He gave Liz a slight smile and a wink. Then he blurted out, “Hey! Everyone. Shut the fuck up and listen to the boss.”