“Oh, no.” Milo shook his head, remaining off to the side with the rest of the group. “I always found the dire wolf fascinating, but I never really wanted to meet one of them or their modern-day equivalent.” He nodded toward the hounds.
“Whatever you say, Private. Does anyone want to try and pet one?” Greaves asked the group. “They aren’t designed to attack humans, I swear. Any volunteers?”
His request met with silence. No one raised a hand or came forward. The soldiers stared down at the ground or to the side, avoiding the commander’s gaze. Asher thought of volunteering but decided against it, typically never one to go against the crowd.
“Oh, come on.” Frustration grew in Greaves’s voice. “At least one of you has to be a dog lover.” The commander continued to wait for someone to make a move, but his words received only blank stares.
“How about you, Sergeant Ito?” Greaves spotted the sergeant as she stepped down the last flight of stairs. “I know you like dogs, or at least you keep a lot of pictures of them around anyway.”
“No, sir, it’s fine,” said Ito, frozen in place, her attempt to remain unseen failed. “I don’t need to pet anything.”
“Come on, get over here.” Greaves waved her forward. “I got to have somebody touch one of ‘em. Got to show the troops that they’re harmless. They can’t be scared of something they’re going to have to work with in close proximity.”
“I don’t need to pet one, sir.” Ito gazed upward at Tarango, the lieutenant still at the top of the stairs. “I’m sure the lieutenant would be up for it, sir. It would really show the rest of us not to be afraid of these things if the leader of our platoon was to do it.”
“Way to shove me under the bus, Sergeant!” Tarango called down to her. “Sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to take a hard pass on this one. I’m allergic to dogs. I break out in hives. I swear.”
“Dang it, Sergeant!” the commander shouted, not finding any humor in the situation. “I didn’t want to do this, but I guess I have to now. Get over here and pet one of these things, or I’ll get you for insubordination.”
“Yes, sir,” said Ito. The sergeant pushed through the crowd. “There’s no reason to get so bent out of shape. Which one would you like me to pet?”
“Hmm… Let’s see here…” Greaves walked down the line in front of the holding cages, taking a good look at each of the hounds. “This one right here.” He pointed to the only hound not sitting at attention at the front of its cage.
The beast lay in its bed at the far corner pretending to be asleep. Sensing the commander was talking about him, the hound sat up to take a look at them. He was one of the largest of the hellhounds, a considerably terrifying specimen with his coat solid black, his eyes bright green, a scar over the right one.
“Over here!” Greaves called the hound as he approached the cell. “Come 'er, the sergeant wants to pat yuh!”
The hound rose from his bed and trotted over to him.
“Name’s Garm,” said Greaves, reading the hound’s tag before squatting down to take a look underneath. “Looks like a male. Obeys commands better than most of you already.”
Greaves rose to his feet and turned around to find the sergeant standing out in front of the rest of the group. Ito was unwilling to come any closer until commanded to do so.
“Excellent choice, sir,” she said, sarcasm filling her typically good-natured voice. “I would like to commend you for choosing the biggest, scariest one.”
“Oh, come on.” Greaves smiled, the mirth in his eyes concealed by his sunglasses. “Do you want to mess around and hurt his feelings?”
“I suppose not.” Ito shook her head. “It wouldn’t be a good idea to be on bad terms with him.” Ito approached the hound’s cell and closed her eyes, cautiously moving her hand between the cell bars.
Asher’s heart raced from the suspense, and the platoon became silent with anticipation.
The hound remained unmoved from where he stood, somewhat confused by Ito’s actions.
“Don’t do that.” Greaves grabbed Ito by the shoulder, causing her to withdraw her hand. “You don’t want to act scared. You’ll just make him nervous enough to bite.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Ito, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m just not used to dealing with something that looks like him.”
“You kill vampires for a living, Sergeant. You can’t be scared of some dog. Just pet him already. I don’t think he’ll bite. He seems to like you. Can’t imagine why you’re stumblin’ around with your eyes closed like that.”
“Well, when you say it like that…” Ito trailed off. She placed her hand back between the cell bars. “Here we go,” she said as she reached out to touch Garm.
The hound stood up and bowed his head to her. He allowed Ito to stroke him a few times before vigorously licking her hand with his black tongue.
Ito pulled back a saliva-drenched glove.
“Was that so bad, Sergeant?” asked Greaves, a broad smile across his face.
“I would prefer he didn’t slobber all over me, sir,” Ito admitted. “Other than that, no, it wasn’t so bad.”
“OK, looks like the sergeant is the only one brave enough to pet these things.” Greaves turned back around to address the rest of the group. “Anyone else want to try to pet one?”
Not a single hand went up, just as before. Their encounters with vampires made them leery of large teeth. Asher saw no point in petting one of the beasts, reasoning he would likely see enough of them later.
“Come on, not even after all that?” Greaves shook his head, exaggerating his disappointment. “Well, suit yourselves then. These guys were put here to make our jobs easier, and you’re gonna have to get used to fightin’ alongside ‘em. Guess we’ll have to work on that later, though not too much later. We will begin using them as support real soon.”
“Is that all you wanted to show us, Commander Greaves?” asked Tarango from atop the stairs.
“Yes, Lieutenant,” said Greaves, his patience with the man wearing thin. “That is all I need to show you. Back up the stairs, everyone! I’ll meet you at the entry point to let you all out!” he commanded the soldiers.”
“Bunch of wussies,” Greaves muttered as he followed the platoon back up the stairs.
Chapter XV
An Unfortunate Assignment
“OK, guys, that last run was pretty good, but we still need to pick up the pace!” Driscoll yelled back at Asher and Aaron from the next room.
They were in the residence mock-up area of the range, practicing their room clearing tactics.
“Just a few more runs, and we should have it!”
“Uh…” Asher sighed, disappointed. He hoped their last run would be it for the day.
Though the facility was air-conditioned, Asher was sweating like a workhorse in the desert sun. It was always a hot, miserable time when you ran around in full body armor. The dust from the gravel worsened things further, as it made the air dry and difficult to breathe.
Asher stood up straight from his crouched position and gazed over at Aaron, who looked as though he were on the brink of his own meltdown. Asher grinned at him, glad to know he wasn’t the only one having a difficult time with repeated drills.
Aaron returned Asher’s smile with a look of hostility.
Milo and Driscoll burst into the room and interrupted whatever dispute they might have had. Milo was exhausted, his skin a deep shade of red, the sweat dripping from his face where his goggles contacted his skin. Driscoll didn’t look much better, though he would never admit to drill fatigue, even if he were sweating blood.
“I think if we can get the next few runs down without a mess up, we’ll be done for the day!” Driscoll shouted over the unrelenting gunfire from the other cinder block houses. Despite his attitude, the corporal had proven himself a capable, reliable group leader. Asher might even hazard to say he was a great one, though never to his face. The man was insufferable and arrogant enough as it was.
“OK, move back to the door.” Driscoll waved a gloved finger around in the air, indicating a restart. He hastily moved through the open door of the mock-up as the rest of his assault group trailed behind him. “Come on guys, stack up and get this drill over with!” he yelled, turning to see his three comrades saunter out the door.
Driscoll turned back around to hunch down beside the open doorway. Asher positioned himself in front with Aaron, and Milo filed in behind them. Asher remained stationary, waiting for Aaron to squeeze the back of his arm, the signal for entry.
“Cease fire! Officer on deck!” called the voice over the intercom, stopping Driscoll from signaling to the rest of them. “Officer on deck!”
The soldiers straightened their postures, turning to see Captain Kilgore walking toward them through the bulletproof glass surrounding their section. He twisted the door handle and entered the room.
“Who’s ready for their first op?” Kilgore’s voice was inappropriately casual. Everyone looked at him dumbfounded, even Driscoll.
“Come on, Captain,” said Asher, already feeling as though he might collapse. “There’s absolutely no way we are ready to go on ops yet. Me and Pritchett have only been here a few weeks, and the company isn’t even fully restored. We’ll get destroyed out there!”
“Calm down, Blackthorn.” Kilgore was unaffected by Asher’s words. “There’s no reason to get your drawers in a wad. This one’s supposed to be easy. Even have those new hellhounds to help us out.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with Blackthorn, sir.” Driscoll moved in between Asher and the captain. “We’re just not ready for ops yet.”
“Greaves hand-picked this mission specifically for our company,” Kilgore explained. “If you haven’t noticed, our rebuilding efforts have been extensive. We’re nearly back to full strength now. I can’t let you guys sit around getting fat and lazy for too long.”
Kilgore paused, letting his words resonate.
“You know I don’t like being like this, Driscoll.” His voice grew severe. “Orders are orders. It doesn’t matter what you think. If the commander says we’re going out on ops, then we’re going out on ops.”
“Understood, sir,” said Driscoll, backing down.
“That’s more like it,” Kilgore’s tone relaxed once more. “Now go pack it up and meet me in the briefing room at 1500. It’s going to take a while to tell the rest of the platoon.”
“I don’t mean to criticize, sir.” Driscoll caught Kilgore as he started to move around them. “But wouldn’t it have been easier to tell us over the intercom?”
“Under normal circumstances, it would,” admitted Kilgore. “I anticipated some resistance from most of you, so I figured it would be best just to go around and tell you in person. Anyway, briefing room, 1500, no more questions.”
Kilgore made for the door, his heavy boots sending gravel flying.
* * *
“We going to watch some kind of movie, sir?” Aaron asked when Captain Kilgore strolled into the room. He sat beside Asher and Milo near the edge of the crowd.
The whole company had piled in the briefing room, the soldiers sitting or standing in front of a large screen.
“Haha. You should try stand up, Pritchett.” Kilgore rolled his eyes. The captain walked past Aaron and through the group of soldiers, taking his position behind the desk up front. Kilgore grabbed the remote off the desk and pointed it at the screen.
Multiple photographs of confirmed vampires glared down at the soldiers. All of the individuals were young and attractive, their eyes ghostly blue, their skin almost translucent. Most had jet-black hair, and a few blondes were thrown in for variety.
“Here are our target assailants,” Kilgore declared. “Just the everyday, run-of-the-mill vamps. Nothing we can’t handle. They differ from our typical targets in that they appear to operate solely on their own, independent of the organization. Best we can tell, this coven started with one domestic vampire, likely formerly of the organization, who decided to go out and form his own coven for whatever crazed reason vamps have for doing anything. Probably thinks he’s vampire Jesus or something.”
Kilgore smiled, expecting someone to find the humor in his statement. The room remained silent.
“None of that matters to us, though,” Kilgore continued, walking back around the desk to stand directly in front of the crowd. “As far as we’re concerned, they’re just a bunch of kooky bloodsuckers living out in the middle of nowhere with no idea how dangerous and abominable they are. They primarily feed on unfortunate travelers who come too close to their residence or whatever homeless people they pick up when they go into town. They might have even tried to sustain themselves by feeding on the blood and meat of livestock before going back to humans when it just wouldn’t satisfy. Regardless, it doesn’t matter how they think of themselves. They’re a rabid menace to humanity. A plague that must be eliminated!”
“Where is our target located, sir?” Tarango inquired, cutting into the start of a miscued pep talk.
“Oh, let’s see,” said the captain, pulling up what Asher felt was an all too familiar map. “Somewhere around the suburbs of Springfield, Missouri. The specific area where they roost is relatively isolated. It’s too far out there for them to survive on random visitors.”
Asher was shocked to discover that vampires were so close to his hometown, keeping the surprise to himself.
“Here is our target locale.” Kilgore flipped to the next page.
A house appeared on the screen. Its architecture was modern contemporary, the structure possessing an excessive amount of windows.
“What’s the deal with this house?” Asher asked abruptly. “What kind of vampire would want to live in a place with so many freakin’ windows?”
“Yes, they have a thing for tinted windows.” Kilgore ignored the fact that Asher had spoken out of turn. “Their fascination worked in our favor. Made it real easy for us to map the interior with drones. They’re some kind of new-age bloodsucker. Like I said, it should be a real easy takedown. Their eccentricities, along with their preference to remain in one place, make them sitting ducks, so much so that I almost feel sorry for them. Almost.”
“What about the floor plans, sir?” asked Ito. She raised her hand from where she sat at one of the desks near the front of the room. “You might want to show us those before you go off into space. You know how you tend to go on tangents.”
Kilgore scoffed at her. “I appreciate your concern, Sergeant. I was getting to that.” He hit the screen remote, pulling up 3D blueprints of the house. “So thanks to our targets’ strange love of windows, we have a pretty good idea of the layout of the top three stories.” He used the red laser pointer at the end of the remote to indicate the individual floors. ”We also know they probably have an extensive basement.”
“How do you know that, sir?” asked Tarango. He frowned with skepticism, his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall at the back. “You didn’t say anything about it earlier when I talked to you.”
“Well, we don’t know about the basement for sure, but we kind of just expect it,” Kilgore explained, shrugging. “There aren’t any other structures surrounding the house, and they have to be taking their kills somewhere. Several people are missing from the area, yet we haven’t found any bodies. They have to be keeping them somewhere and I, we, hypothesize the only logical place for them to keep them is underneath the house.”
“Yes, it does make a fair amount of sense, sir.” Tarango squinted, scrutinizing the screen further.
“We estimate that there are about nine or ten assailants and probably at least one juvenile. Those are always tons of fun. I don’t know why the dang vamps like biting the kids so much, though I guess in this case, it might have been born that way, which is even worse. Poor kid has probably never seen the sun. Either way, it just makes an otherwise easy job difficult. You think these guys are ready to deal with a juvenile, Lieutenant Tarango?”
Kilgore
gazed up at the lieutenant before shooting a glance in Asher and Aaron’s direction.
“I’m sure they can handle it, sir.” There was confidence in Tarango’s voice.
“Wait, what?” asked Aaron, looking around, the full magnitude of the conversation finally hitting him. “What’s all this about shooting some kid?”
“It’s what I just said, Private.” Darkness hung about Kilgore. “We have reason to believe there is a bloodsucking juvenile in this house, and we’re going to have to take it out just like the rest of them.”
“Is there no other way, sir?” Aaron was surprised no one shared his apprehension.
“Nope.” Kilgore shook his head. “Kid has to be eliminated just like the rest of them. I realize this is your first outing, and you haven’t seen one yet, but believe me, child vamps are absolutely the worst kind.”
“How so, sir?” asked Asher, the whole room turning to look at him as if he were denser than a concrete slab. “OK, I mean, obviously it’s going to be way harder to go through with killing a kid than an adult, even if they are a bloodsucker. It’s just that the way you are talking suggests that there’s more to it than that.”
“No, as far as we can tell, the kids don’t have any special abilities that the adults don’t,” Kilgore explained. “They’re weaker, as you would expect, regardless if they’ve been bit or were just born that way. Not sure if you’ve gotten to that in your classes yet, but yes, vampires can reproduce sexually. So, you guys think you can handle it?” Kilgore looked over to see Ito staring at him expectantly. “Excuse me,” he grinned apologetically. “Do you think you all can handle it? Better not leave it to Pritchett anyway. Beginning to have some serious doubts about the rest of you as well.”
“There will be more experienced personnel in there with them, sir,” said Driscoll. He put his hands behind his head and gave Kilgore a smug smile. “I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it if the other, newer, recruits can’t.”
Fall Prey: The Hunt Page 23