Fall Prey: The Hunt

by Dallas Massey

  Asher thought she might start to laugh, the only one to find such a situation humorous. The high commander’s audience stared at the screen, silent and stone-faced.

  “They decided they wanted to keep me for observation. Wanted to see what happens when someone turns.”

  Witchburn’s smile vanished when she observed the lack of laughter.

  “They didn’t even try to re-attach my arm. Said it was pointless since I would be euthanized afterward. They were certain I would go vamp on them. They patched up my wounds so I wouldn’t bleed out and threw me into what was essentially solitary confinement. Kept me locked in a dark room for days, feeding me through a slot in the door. They finally let me out a week later when I didn’t turn like they thought I would. It came as a surprise to everyone.”

  “Why didn’t you turn, ma’am?” Asher raised his hand to be recognized.

  “They told me I must have an immunity to the virus. One of the few.”

  “What about your appearance, though?” asked Asher. “Why did that change?”

  “Nobody really knows. It’s just a side-effect of being exposed to the virus. Instead of turning, I was left with this permanently youthful, though vampiric, appearance. Unfortunately for me, I was not granted the same healing capacity, so I was left with these scars, a blind right eye and an amputated arm. To be clear, even a vampire can’t regenerate those last two, at least not naturally anyway. It’s not all bad, though. I haven’t seemed to age a day since I was bitten.”

  High Commander Witchburn leaned forward in her chair and looked toward the camera so they could better see her face.

  “I’m much older than I look. It’s kind of like having both the worst and the best plastic surgery at once.”

  Asher felt embarrassed by his actions earlier. Witchburn’s story both impressed and shamed him.

  “Well, it looks like I haven’t thrown up that apple,” Witchburn declared, her good eye widening with recollection. “Finally convinced that I’m not a vampire?” She raised both hands in the air in frustrated emphasis.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Asher as several of his comrades nodded along.

  “Well, now that that’s out of the way...” Witchburn reached over her desk, producing a remote. “Let’s get on with this briefing.” She pressed a button, and a continental map of the United States replaced the camera feed of her office.

  “The intel given to us by this vampire, Desmond, is accurate but very incomplete,” said her disembodied voice through the speaker. “Here is the approximate location he gave us.”

  The map’s crosshair cursor zoomed in over California, continuing downward toward one mountain range to the south. It then zoomed in even further, showing a mountain pass through which ran a mundane-looking highway. The cursor continued to move until it reached a closed portion of the road, the closure made apparent by the bright orange barrier blocking the way.

  “Now, according to our captured friend, the laboratory should be located somewhere over here, adjacent to the closed portion of the highway.”

  The cursor moved up, away from the highway, and through two adjoined mountain peaks, continuing along until it reached an almost invisible gravel road. A large red circle encompassed the target area.

  “How have you confirmed the location, ma’am?” Lieutenant Tarango moved away from where he stood against the wall, stepping out to where the camera could see him.

  Captain Kilgore groaned and shook his head, irritated by the lieutenant’s need for further questioning.

  “Oh, nice to see you, Lieutenant Tarango.” Witchburn acknowledged him. “We have confirmed this location through drone surveillance. It’s been on our radar for quite a while now. That’s how we worked through the vampire’s intel so quickly. There has been a substantial increase in vehicles passing through the closed section of highway, fewer government agency vehicles, more civilians, some even unmarked. Most of those traveling through the closed section turn off toward the east, disappear for a while, and somehow appear back on the road. It’s always been suspicious. After receiving your captured vampire’s intel, we decided to really investigate what was going on. Here are a few of the pictures taken last night.”

  A photo showing a closer view of the gravel road appeared on the left-handed side of the screen, shrouded in the night, glowing green through the drone’s night vision camera.

  “And as we move along the road…” Witchburn trailed off, several more pictures of the road appearing on the screen. “And here’s where we knew we had something.”

  A picture of a tunnel entrance appeared on the screen, mysterious and menacing.

  “Looks a little out of place, don’t you think?”

  “That’s a heck of a hole,” said Greaves. He rose from his seat to view the picture, scratching his bald head. “Little hard to find when yuh don’t know what you’re looking for, but awful obvious when yuh do.”

  “Precisely,” said Witchburn. “We decided not to probe any deeper as we did not want to disturb what’s there. We haven’t found any kind of record of there ever having been a tunnel built in the area, and it’s pretty obvious that it shouldn’t be there. We also haven’t been able to find any geographical record of a cavern or cave in the area, meaning that if there is a structure built somewhere inside the mountain, it is wholly human, or rather vampire-made. Quite a feat of engineering either way.”

  “Sure would be,” Greaves spoke nearly in a whisper.

  “Anyway, as far as we know, there shouldn’t be any kind of underground anything there at all,” Witchburn continued. ”That’s where you come in. We need to send in an armed group of soldiers to ensure the area is clear.”

  “Can’t you send the battalion from District X to investigate and clear the area, ma’am?” Tarango chimed in. “This isn’t our jurisdiction.”

  “Half of District X’s forces will join you. You are being sent out because your company is to escort the vampire, Desmond, to the area to assist during the operation.”

  “But why this company specifically?” asked Tarango.

  “Your company has recently been rebuilt. It just felt like the best choice. I anticipate that this operation will be difficult and could potentially lead to a disproportionately high death toll. That’s why we’re sending out six companies and most of our hellhound forces. We want to be prepared for anything. All we have to go on is the information given to us by Desmond and a few aerial photos taken by our drones. Not enough intel for the full picture, but it’s all we have. You will be accompanied by our new weapon prototype, the kresnik, as well. Hopefully, that will take at least some of the sting out of it.”

  “When are we supposed to fly out, ma’am?” asked Greaves. He leaned on his desk, steadied by one of his giant hands.

  “At approximately 1300 hours,” said the high commander. “That will allow enough time for you to properly prepare yourselves for the operation. You will rendezvous with the force from District X at 1600 and then head up into the mountains immediately, avoiding the mountain pass at night.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Greaves stood up straight, saluting the camera.

  “Very well, commander,” said Witchburn. “That concludes our briefing.”

  “Well, you heard the high commander.” Greaves addressed the company, the screen now a blank blue. “We only got to 1300. Get a move on!” His voice steadily rose until he was nearly shouting.

  The company sprung from their seats and filtered out of the door, only slightly hastened by the commander’s words.

  As Asher stood to leave, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Well, I hope you’re ready.” Aaron gave him a reassuring pat. “This is going to be one heck of an operation!”

  Chapter XXVII

  Prototypes

  Anoura slammed the door behind her, nearly breaking into a sprint as she strode down the craggy, unfinished hallway toward The Surgeon’s laboratory. She came from the loading bay, leaving Luther and Mara to finish up with their delivery.<
br />
  Anoura was seeing to more pressing matters.

  Typically The Surgeon’s lab was off-limits to all unauthorized personnel; all procurement staff forbade entry. She knew he would be less than thrilled over her appearing unannounced, but this was an emergency.

  Anoura was halfway down the hallway, her shadow revealed in the red light, rapidly passing over the stone surface. The wall had remained untouched since the construction of The Surgeon’s facility. The man was involved with his research and paid little attention to anything else.

  Anoura approached the laboratory, stopping in front of the armed guard who blocked the door.

  “I need to speak with The Surgeon immediately.” Anoura glared at the guard, arms folded in impatience. “It’s an emergency.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t allow you to proceed past this point.” The guard tightened his grip on his assault rifle. ”I don’t care what the problem is. You don’t have the clearance for entry into The Surgeon’s private laboratory.”

  Anoura couldn’t read his expression through his helmet, his eyes concealed by his visor.

  The man gave her an awkward smile, his elongated canines visible.

  “I assure you, he will make an exception this time!” Anoura spoke through gritted teeth, tensed with rage. “There is a battalion of Legion soldiers headed this way!”

  “Huh,” the guard chuckled, his posture slackening. “Well, that may be,” he said, mockery in his voice. ”You know how he feels about being interrupted while he’s working. I mean, if you were one of his lab assistants, things would be different, but you’re not. If you go in there, you may never come back out.”

  “Does the phrase ‘battalion of Legion soldiers headed this way’ mean nothing to you?” Anoura stomped her foot in anger.

  “Orders are orders.” The guard’s words had an edge. “Assuming they actually know the way to our facility, there’s plenty of deterrents. Even if they have found the door, you know how difficult that entry tunnel can be. The Surgeon has taken all necessary defensive precautions. Trust me. It’s a very bad idea to go in there.”

  “Thanks for the warning, but I think I can handle him just fine.” Anoura’s tone remained foul. She began to rethink how she felt about human personnel. Humans were much easier to intimidate, much easier to control in many respects. The Surgeon refused to use any human personnel, and most of his strictly vampiric staff followed his orders only.

  “I cannot let you pass.” The guard gripped his weapon. “If I allow you to pass through this door, I will be punished as well. If you want to get yourself killed, that’s fine by me, but I refuse to be held responsible for letting you in.”

  Anoura stepped backward, startled by the guard’s insolence. “You absolutely will let me pass.” Her temper flared. “I told you, this is an emergency. I need access to The Surgeon!” She took an intimidating step forward, ready to attack.

  “That’s unfortunate,” the guard smirked. “You can tell it to The Surgeon when he finishes. He’s been in there a while, so it shouldn’t be long now. What…”

  Anoura tore the firearm from the guard and struck him in the jaw with it, swinging the weapon like a baseball bat. It broke like a flimsy toy, all but shattering on contact, unable to withstand the force produced by the blow.

  The guard staggered to the side and maintained his balance, remaining unharmed.

  “Uh, yeah, I’m a vampire too,” he said, regaining his footing. “You’ll have to do a little better than that! Oof…” he groaned.

  Anoura responded with a right hook to the man’s chin. The first punch led into a flurry of blows, which she then followed up with a left to the jaw. She alternated fists as she struck him repeatedly, never allowing him a chance to fight back. Anoura knocked the guard to the ground and kicked him in the face with a booted foot, continuing until he stopped moving.

  The guard lay there, stationary, appearing to be unconscious or worse.

  Anoura stepped over his body and approached the door to knock.

  “You make a compelling argument,” said the guard, coughing up blood, delirious. “Feel free to enter.”

  “That’s more like it.” Anoura glared down at the guard maliciously.

  The man lay his head down on the ground once more, in no hurry to stand back up.

  “Sir!” Anoura turned back to the door and pounded on the solid metal with her fist. “Sir! Open up! We have an emergency! Legion soldiers are approaching the facility!” Frustrated by the lack of response, she tried the handle. Finding it unlocked, she pushed her way into The Surgeon’s laboratory.

  Anoura let the door close behind her, awe-struck by the sheer vastness of the lab.

  Giant red gymnasium lights hung overhead to illuminate the massive room. Its high walls, craggy and barely finished like the hallway, were a reminder of the facility’s subterranean location. To Anoura’s left stood several metal-framed, glass-covered shelves that extended across the whole length of the wall and disappeared into the darkness at the back of the lab. The lowest of them rose ten feet above the ground, reachable only with the rolling ladder setting off to one side.

  Below the shelves hung a variety of surgical implements, mostly saws and other cutting tools. Many of these were exceptionally large and murderous-looking, most of them meant for thick-boned animals. A line of metal tool tables followed the shelves along the wall, upon which smaller tools, mostly scalpels, scissors, and saws, sat. These were the implements necessary to cut through delicate human flesh.

  Anoura cringed, startled by the man-shaped creature to her left. One of the researchers struggled to shove a gag in its mouth, failing to silence its orangutan-like cries.

  It was a strange creature, looking something like an ape but hairless, its skin bright red and so thin that Anoura could see the blood through it. More of the animals filled the laboratory floor and on surgical examination tables. Those still alive were restrained and gagged. The dead lay in pieces with various organs spread out. Buckets of blood rested underneath the tables.

  Around the creatures gathered the vampiric lab staff, all kept busy, a hive of activity around the tables as they tended to their subjects. Many restrained the animals, while others were farther along in the surgical process. The latter cut long, deep sutures into the creature’s limbs with various tools. Some lab workers stitched up the resulting wounds or dissected the dead.

  Anoura drifted toward the tables, catching a whiff of the surrounding air, surprised she hadn’t noticed the stench earlier. A stale, putridly pungent odor hung about the place, a mix of blood, excrement, and fear, barely masked by air fresheners and floor cleaners.

  Remembering her purpose, Anoura searched for The Surgeon, finding him challenging to spot since all personnel wore white lab coats. She stepped closer to the tables and looked over those gathered around them. None of The Surgeon’s staff acknowledged her presence, too involved with their work to notice one of the lowly ‘delivery’ people.

  “Excuse me, but do you have a death wish?” Anoura heard a voice come from across the room, though she couldn’t discern the man’s location within the ample space.

  “If so, it can be facilitated,” said the voice.

  Anoura walked toward it, passing by a gathering of computer monitors at the center of the room. DNA double helixes scrawled across the screens, listing base pairs and other data written in a language she was incapable of reading.

  Anoura found The Surgeon sitting on a stool beside one of the closer exam tables, bent over one of his test subjects, apparently in the middle of vivisection. She never saw The Surgeon perform one of his procedures, but she had been around long enough to know that his primary research area was wound healing. Vivisection was a necessity in such pursuits.

  The test subject snarled through its gag, violently thrashing and twisting around in its restraints. It was unwilling to let The Surgeon stitch up the wound he had just inflicted with his scalpel. A disproportionately large amount of its blood drenched the floor an
d the exam table

  The Surgeon didn’t believe in sedation except in extreme cases, or so Anoura had heard. All operations performed in his labs involved restraints and gags. Anoura wasn’t sure if this was because he didn’t want to spend the money or if he just took sadistic pleasure in inflicting pain.

  The red, thin-skinned creature continued to struggle, leaving The Surgeon sitting, needle in mouth, unable to stitch up the wound. One of Anoura’s most treasured past-times was inflicting pain on others, yet she even found the lack of sedation maladaptive to surgical proficiency.

  The creature let out an all too human scream, suddenly spitting out the gag, making Anoura take a step backward. She was the only one to react to the noise that the rest of The Surgeon’s staff ignored.

  “OK, that’s it, I have had enough of you, subject… Ah…” The Surgeon gritted his teeth, speaking with the stitching needle in his mouth. He leaned down to look at the numbers printed on the creature’s identification bracelet. “That’s enough, Subject 22753. It’s sedation for you now.” He jammed the needle into the creature’s arm, pushing down on the plunger to administer the drug.

  “Such a waste of money.” The Surgeon shook his head as the doomed animal went slack, its screams subsiding. He tossed the needle into the trashcan by his foot, irritated by the waste.

  “Sir, sorry to interrupt, but there’s an emergency,” said Anoura, her sense of urgency reawakened. “A battalion of Legion soldiers is headed this way!”

  “Did the guard not tell you?” The Surgeon looked up at her with a frown, showing his annoyance. “No one is allowed in my private laboratory without my consent, under penalty of death.”

  “Yes, he did, sir.” Anoura wanted to lie and have the guard removed, death being the preferred method of doing so. “I felt that in this instance, such an entry would have to be permitted.” She frowned, even more frustrated than before. “Sir, I don’t understand. Why is no one at all concerned with the approaching Legion presence? They’ll be knocking on our front door in less than an hour!”