Return of the Phoenix - 01

by Heath Stallcup

  Franklin paused at the outer door. “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, sir. You had me clear your schedule? Until tomorrow…”

  Franklin nodded. “Yes. Of course I did.” Then he headed out of the door.

  *****

  A tech knocked rapidly on Colonel Mitchell’s door. “Come!” Matt bellowed and the tech nearly tripped over himself coming into the office. Mitchell looked up from the stack of reports on his desk. “What is it?”

  “Troll, sir,” the tech said, his face pale. “Double verified, and close to a populated area.” He sounded out of breath. He must have run all the way to the colonel’s office.

  Matt stood from his desk. “Location?”

  “Kansas, sir!” the tech sounded surprised. “Usually they’ll show up somewhere near a coastal area, sir. Wash up onshore or something, but this far inland? It’s unheard of, colonel.”

  Mitchell grabbed his two-way and keyed it. “Alert. Ready Squad One. All hands to Operations.”

  Almost immediately, red lights along the wall began flashing and a claxon began blaring through all levels of the facility. Mitchell took the report and began scanning it as he and the tech headed to the Operations Command Center where Laura met him in the hallway. “Colonel?”

  “Trolls in Kansas. I’ve got First Squad gearing up. Prep us a fast runner so the boys can chute in on this thing and drop it before it gets into a population center.”

  “Kansas is pretty close, sir. We could use helicopters and be able to transport…”

  “Negative. This thing is headed for a town, XO, and I want it dropped before it gets in front of too many sets of eyes. It’s going to be hard enough to explain as it is,” he said. “How we got a fucking troll this far inland without being noticed beats the dog shit out of me, but the son-of-a-bitch is here and I don’t intend to let it get any further than we have to. I want eyes on the subject ASAP and I want it fed to OpCom so we can see what the hell we’re dealing with.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  *****

  First Squad was quickly gearing up in the locker room and about to head out on their first mission since the new members were added to the ranks. Apollo had chosen Lamb, Jacobs, and Tracy to join himself, Donovan, Gonzalez, and the Padre to form First Squad. It had been a tough decision not to include Sanchez, but Second Squad needed her abilities both as a sniper and as an entry team member a lot more than he needed to satisfy the desire to keep her safe. And when it came down to it, he knew that she could take care of herself and having her on his team would only distract him from the mission.

  With the men all geared up, they headed to the armory to receive their weapon assignments. As Apollo followed his team out the door, Sanchez grabbed him by his tactical vest and pulled him aside. She had to practically climb him like a tree to plant a kiss on him. “You come back in one piece, you hear me, soldier?!”

  Apollo smiled down at her. “Yes, ma’am,” he said and gave her a mock salute. Then, with one more quick kiss, he jogged to catch up with his team.

  Most of the men were loading P90 magazines into their vest and BDU pockets, pistol magazines into side magazine pockets and flash-bang and concussion grenades into satchels. Fragmentation grenades went into a separate satchel to prevent getting mixed up in the heat of battle. Lamb looked up and noticed that the Padre only loaded up on phosphorus grenades and frags. Lamb, Mueller, and Tracy were loading up their fifty-round M4 magazines, and Tracy actually sighed when he hefted the M4 in his hands. Training is one thing, but knowing you are about to go into battle with a weapon platform you knew like the back of your hand, it just set his mind at ease. Lamb nudged him and nodded at Hank who was scratching a cross onto each of his grenades before placing them into his satchel. Gus shrugged, “Whatever works for him, brother.”

  “Amen to that,” Lamb said as he loaded a magazine and slapped the bottom to ensure it was seated.

  First Squad double timed out to a freight elevator and began the ride up to the hangar. Along the way, Laura briefed them of the threat in Kansas. Apollo groaned. “The only thing worse than a fucking troll is a damned hydra,” he said.

  “Why’s that?” Jacobs asked.

  Popo answered for him. “Their skin is like armor and they’re too stupid to realize they’re being attacked. Once they do realize it, they get mad as hell and destroy everything. Then they’re even harder to kill.”

  “Head shot with AP ammo?” Lamb asked.

  “Brain is too small,” Apollo said. “Like shooting through a tank to hit a matchbook, and you have to hit it dead-on to truly kill it.”

  “And they’re fucking huge,” Donovan added.

  “Wait. How big is ‘fucking huge’?” Tracy asked.

  Apollo was double-checking his gear and never looked up. “Anywhere from three to five stories tall, depending on the type. They’ve been known to eat entire cows in one bite as a snack.” Finally he looked up and smiled. “Let’s just hope it isn’t a rock troll.”

  “Do I want to know?” Tracy asked.

  “Thicker skin, uglier, smellier, thicker skulls, smaller brains. Basically, everything that makes a troll hard to kill, they have in spades,” Apollo said. “Oh…and they can go through the ground faster than a duck through water. Leaves a helluva mess.”

  “Great.” Tracy sighed. “Anybody want to lay odds on the type of troll we’re about to see?”

  “Twenty bucks says it’s a rock troll,” Lamb said, his face like stone.

  “I’ll take that action,” Apollo challenged just as the freight elevator opened.

  Laura stepped out waved the loaded out crew ahead of the squad. “Good luck, and remember to keep your coms open. The colonel will have visual set up for us ASAP and I’ll get a feed to you en route.” She got a thumbs-up from Apollo as they loaded into the short bus and began rolling to the runway.

  Laura went to the other end of the large hangar and entered the secured area. Techs were prepping the computers and workstations for the new drones as she entered. “Are they ready?”

  “Ma’am, we literally just took them off the truck. I’m not even sure if they’re flight worthy.”

  “These were detoured from a shipment headed to Iraq, they should be ready to go,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am, I understand that, but even then, they have to go through a prep period, a shakedown run…I don’t know if we can just throw them into action.” The tech said in exasperation.

  “Make it happen.” She glared.

  “We’re giving It our best, ma’am. Honestly.”

  Laura went to the far wall and picked up the internal phones. She keyed OpCom. “Get me the colonel.” She waited until Mitchell picked up. “Colonel, we may not have air support from the drones. We may need to send the Apaches.”

  Matt really wanted to keep the Apaches out of this one, but made the call best suited to keep his squad safe. “Get ‘em up and over there Laura. Make sure they’re armed to the teeth, too. Send ‘em both.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Laura stepped out of the secured area and pointed at the Monster Squad’s pilots. She spun her fingers in the air and both men gave a single nod. Both pilots turned to gather their co-pilots who were still gearing up and all four men took the team’s Humvee to the helipad and their waiting Apache attack helicopters. First Squad would have air support, even if it was a few minutes later than Mitchell wanted. Although the Apaches were fast and would be leaving before the plane took off, the plane would pass the helicopters in little time to get to northern Kansas in record time. The plane would then reduce air speed, fly lower in the atmosphere, and First Squad would parachute into the area and engage the troll. The last troll that the squads faced was along the western coast of Mexico. The team fought the beast for nearly an hour, expending most of their ammunition to turn the beast’s attention from a nearby village before the Apaches flew in and shoved a rocket up its ass. Literally. As the rocket was fired, the troll happened to turn and bend down to pick up a squad me
mber. The rocket hit the troll right in the butt and blew it’s intestines out through its belly. Needless to say, the cleanup crew was not happy that day. They used bulldozers commandeered from a nearby construction site to assist in the cleanup.

  19

  Nadia lay curled next to Jack in his bed and he swore that he could feel the heat from her radiating off in waves. She had a fine sheen of perspiration across her forehead and in the waning light, she never looked more beautiful. He remembered being shocked that she had been a virgin, yet had no inhibitions with him. It was as if she had mentally given herself to him long before she ever gave herself to him physically. He glanced further down and saw the faint hint of a smile on her face. It made him smile and he wrapped his arm tighter around her. She was his now. And he was hers. They were mated.

  For all intent and purpose, she was his wife. As far as the wolves and vampires were concerned, they were married. They were bonded by something far stronger than any piece of paper or legally binding government recognized agreement could ever make them. He sighed as he realized, his life was hers. They were forever bound…and as he stared at her lying against him, he knew without doubt, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  He thought he would feel…different, somehow. That the bonding process would do something to him magical that he could detect. But, in all honesty, it was just world class, toe curling, fantastic, lovemaking with the woman of his dreams. If you had to debase it, that is.

  He couldn’t express the mix of emotions he felt, because he did feel very strongly for Nadia, but he expected something spectacularly magical to occur as soon as they did it. And honestly, he was somewhat disappointed when it didn’t. But she didn’t seem to be. She came back for more, and more, and more until they were both exhausted.

  He ran his finger across her shoulder and watched as goose bumps appeared across her arm. He smiled as she groaned and rolled closer to him. “Stop. It tickles.”

  “I can’t stop staring at you.”

  “Sleep,” she said. “The moon will call us soon.”

  “I thought the pills would prevent that?”

  “It does, but the moon still calls,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “Have you not felt the restlessness of late? The unease?”

  Jack chuckled. “I thought it was sexual tension from seeing your perfect form naked!” he teased.

  She smiled at him and cuddled closer to him. “The moon still calls, even if we prevent you from answering.”

  “So, if we pull this off and you can control the wolf during the moon’s call…could you control me if I shifted?” Jack asked carefully.

  Nadia stiffened perceptively under Jack’s arm. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “I want to change with you…”

  “And I want you to remain you, Jack.”

  Jack sighed. “I feel like I’m missing out on the biggest part of being a wolf.”

  “Perhaps if you were natural born, then you would be. But there is a reason why all created werewolf call it a curse.”

  Jack simply nodded but Nadia could tell that he didn’t agree. Perhaps it was because he had failed to take the bane for so many days and now he could feel the pull of the coming moon so much more intensely. Or perhaps it was because they had found each other, but for whatever reason, his wolf was calling him. Strongly. Perhaps if she could show him, just how bad the Halfling truly was? Maybe then he would not desire it so deeply. In her heart, she knew that what she planned was wrong, but if it saved Jack from trying to experience the shift and becoming the Halfling, it would be worth the betrayal.

  *****

  Senator Franklin stared at his Rolex. It looked exactly as he remembered. So why did he have it repaired? This was driving him crazy. He felt like he was missing parts of his life and he still felt like there was something he needed to do, but, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. It tickled his brain like an itch he couldn’t reach, and it drove him nearly insane.

  Franklin decided not to return to the office. The time it had taken him to navigate to the jeweler and then back, fighting the D.C. traffic and having to stop to clear his head twice, he felt as though his mind was splitting. Home. He would go home. Perhaps the answers he was seeking lay there.

  Franklin made the drive as the sun was setting, and he remembered looking out the window of the Ritz Carlton in his fog and not knowing if the sun was coming up or going down. The redhead’s curves flashed through his mind and his arousal angered him once more. He pictured her walking back from the bathroom with her overly large penis and became even more aroused and even more angered. He yelled and beat the steering wheel of his car. He refused to be a closet homo, dammit!

  To a passing vehicle, he may have seemed crazy or simply upset at a sports team score, but Franklin didn’t care what he looked like to other people. He was losing his mind and he couldn’t take it anymore. He screamed until his voice was a screech and his throat was sore. He thrashed his head until his perfectly coifed hair was tossed. He beat the steering wheel until his hands throbbed, the whole time his car swerved dangerously from his lane to the next and back.

  Somehow, he made it to his home and pulled into his oyster shell drive. He pulled the car around the back of the house and parked outside the garage. He didn’t even wait to put the vehicle away, he simply shut off the engine and darted into the house, escaping to something familiar. To something warm and inviting and safe.

  Franklin shut the door behind him and locked it. The gloom of the old house engulfed him and the silence was deafening. No children echoing in the hallways, no wife to prepare dinner. Not even a housekeeper anymore. He had a Mexican woman who came in twice a week to clean and do laundry while he was at his office. He didn’t mind paying her for her duties, but he never wanted to actually see her.

  He shuffled off to his office and collapsed behind his desk. With his head in his hands, he began to sob. Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most, he thought. He knew he had heard that somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where. Perhaps on television. A t-shirt at the beach? A poster? He sobbed harder. He couldn’t tell what was going on now that his once great mind was failing him. Between his sobs he had a horrible thought…what if this is what Alzheimer’s is like? If this were the beginnings of the dreaded disease, would he even know it?

  “Bad day at the office, senator?”

  Franklin nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. It took him a moment to recognize Damien’s voice as his son slowly stepped from the shadows of the hallway. The sun had set while Franklin had his pity party. “Son. I didn’t hear you.”

  “Obviously,” Damien deadpanned.

  “What brings you by so early?” Franklin asked, trying to wipe away the evidence of his breakdown.

  “Seriously?” Damien asked, sitting across from his father. “Well, I just thought I’d stop by and we could catch up on things, dad.”

  “Oh,” Franklin replied, trying to straighten himself up somewhat. “Isn’t that nice? I’m so happy to see you, son. Would you care for a drink?” he asked, standing and preparing himself a Jack and Coke.

  “Got any O-positive?” Damien asked with raised brows.

  Franklin startled, then paused. “You know that I don’t, son. But I do have a nice cognac.”

  “Cut the chit chat already, will you? Did you get what you needed from Mitchell?”

  Franklin froze. Mitchell? His mind began racing…Mitchell needs…he needs…he…needs drones. And a satellite to…be able to perform his mission. “Mitchell?” Franklin asked. “Mitchell? Mitchell needs…he needs…Mitchell needs drones, son.” Franklin turned around, his eyes desperate, “He has to have the drones or his mission will fail!” He slammed his drink down on the table.

  Damien stared at him and then slowly raised an eyebrow. “You have got to be shitting me.”

  “No. He does. He has to…”

  “He fucking got to you.”

  “What?”
>
  “Mitchell fucking got to you,” Damien said, coming around the desk to stand directly in front of his father. He grabbed him by the face and stared into his eyes. “For fuck’s sake. He brainwashed you, you weak-minded idiot.”

  “What?!” Franklin was aghast. “You can’t speak to me that way, I am still your father!”

  “Shut up and sit down!” Damien commanded. Franklin immediately sat, looking up expectantly. Damien chuckled. “I have no idea what they used, but apparently, you’re still under the influence.” Damien pulled out a cell phone. “Don’t move!” he commanded, pointing a finger directly in his father’s face.

  He dialed a number and waited. “I need help. Mitchell got to him.” After a moment, “Yeah, fucking brainwashed him. Cooked him. Probably chemical. I doubt he’s got a born vamp working for him.” Damien nodded, then turned and looked down at his father who was still staring straight forward. He shook his head in disgust. “Okay, I can do that. Be there in an hour. Thanks.”

  Damien sighed and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “Time for you and me to have a little quality father-son time, pop.” He picked up Franklin and laid him over his shoulder. Damien opened the second floor window and jumped down to the yard, gently touching down. He walked to the backyard fence and cleared it with a quick jump. Behind the house and waiting for Damien was a black SUV with dark tinted windows. He opened the back door and shoved Franklin in the back, then slipped in behind the wheel.

  “No worries, old man. I know somebody who can get you back to your old self in no time. You’ll be back to your old back-stabbing ways and kissing hands and shaking babies before you know it. Then we can get you back to bringing Mitchell to his knees.”

  *****

  “Team Leader, this is OpCom actual.”

  “Go for Team Leader.”

  “We have eyes on the target. We’re uploading visuals to your portables. You’re not going to like this, Apollo.”