He found a pair of plastic gasoline cans for the lawnmower and poured them into the truck’s gas tank. They topped the fuel gage. Another pair of five gallon gasoline cans sat under the work bench and those he set in the back of the truck. He looked around and found some used motor oil in several thick walled bleach bottles marked for recycling that he made sure the caps remained snuggly tight and set them in the back of the truck.
He yanked open the glove box finding a state map shoved in with the other papers. He opened it up remembering the book of airplane charts Uncle Tremper used and their path to the target plant. He put his finger across the paper. County road thirty-five. And this must be the wheat field over here, quite a distance from the plant. That will be a problem if they continue watching the roads.
Brett memorized the map, his plan solidifying as he put it away. He had to move fast and be bold going in there as if he owned the place. He didn’t need accuracy, he needed to get on site and let the bomb do its work. He slammed the door shut and started the engine. Maybe Shannon could close the shed doors for him later. He roared out of the yard and down the road.
The rain changed into a slow misty drizzle half way to the plant. The traffic remained sparse this far from town. The farmers even kept their equipment inside until the fields dried out enough to work them. The coats kept him comfortable except for his wet jeans that still itched from the prior soaking while crawling around under the truck chassis at the airport. His toes shriveled like raisins in his soggy shoes but turning the truck heater on helped warm them. He remembered his father told him once that a working heater meant the engine had sufficient coolant. It meant for Brett that the grenades had missed the truck’s radiator and hoses. He almost reached for the radio but decided against loading the system with another electrical device and tempt fate.
He drove hard until he came near the plant. He saw a car tipped over upside down in the ravine next to the road. Brett could only see the belly pan, the snaking exhaust system, and the tires pointing to the sky. No police parked nearby so either it recently happened or the car already laid there for days. Nothing he could do for the driver of that car anyway. But he thought he better slow down. Then the forest on the left opened up with an abrupt cut revealing the brand new factory and some other buildings scattered around. The factory’s sign read “Beautiful Bottle Molders”. Brett kept his pace even and continued driving until he found a turnaround at a driveway into a farmer’s soybean field about three miles further on.
His mind ran with the images he saw around the factory. No big fences with razor wire like he remembered at Ramsburgh Industries. Only a little booth holding out a flip up plastic arm with a hanging stop sign. Where would he drop his cargo? He wanted the center of the factory. He should remember if any doors showed along the side of the building but he could not. He looked at the shredded hood. It flapped incessantly on the trip here. He wouldn’t need the truck again. No one would. He could bash through the wall and if the device went off then that could level the place as easily as if he unloaded it with better placement and used the sledge hammer.
“Uncle Tremper, I sure hope you had the right place picked out. And wired this thing up well.”
He eased the truck over the rough ruts and back onto the pavement. He approached the factory and turned hard into the driveway.
Two blurs from the sides leaped into the cargo box. Black jumpsuit vampires stood and stepped over the truck bed contents to get to the cab. Brett saw them in his rear view mirror and accelerated through the gate bar. The gate snapped and splintered under and over the truck. Brett kept accelerating down the parking lot passing parked cars that smeared into a blur. His speed transformed the huffing woofs of air breaking between the parked cars into a rapid machine gun staccato. The vampire assassins reached into the cab touching his shoulder.
Brett pulled the wheel hard between empty parking spaces. His excessive speed bumped the truck into the air, momentum carrying him bounding through the wall of the building throwing cement blocks and steel sheathing thumping and banging against the parked cars and machinery inside the factory.
Brett bent his head up from where he laid on the seat, protected from the shrapnel that sheared off most of the windshield, the tops of the doors, and the rear of the cab. Two headless vampire bodies sprawled in the back of the truck. One side of the steering wheel bent back and the airbags already deployed. But the engine still ran and Brett pressed forward to the interior of the building.
A warm glow filled the dark factory as Brett rolled the truck to a stop. A truck tire seeped air through a ripped gash along its sidewall. A large plastic bubble-like enclosure curved away surrounded by machinery. The bubble room glowed from harsh lights arrayed inside. He heard pressurizing fans loud enough to mask his entry. Opaque shadows working inside the plastic shed did not yet show alarm. This would be it. He shut the truck off and stepped over the seat into the cargo box. He rolled the two wet vampire bodies over the sides of the truck. Brett shed his coats and hat. He pulled out the tailgate and balanced the two timbers at the edge so they stuck out the back of the truck bed. He used the metal bar to pry the device onto the tips of the timbers. He got it in position to tumble down the timbers and smack against the concrete. Then if that didn’t set it off he would use a hammer on it. He snatched the cans of gasoline and tossed them across the floor along with the used oil bottles.
“– What’s the meaning of this? Who are you?” Theron Aravant said as he came out of the plastic walled shed. Brett’s eyebrows rose at seeing Reginald beside Aravant, but other vampires including a mountain of a bald man in a white lab coat stood next to Aravant while several black jumpsuit assassins converged out of the stacked machinery and supplies. They gaped at the hole in the wall, the debris, the battered truck, and the obvious gasoline canisters spilling on the floor.
The assassins leaped toward him nearly flying through the air. Brett grabbed the tailgate and swung it around at them. The sharp strip of steel along its bottom edge took the head off the first vampire and bashed the second vampire enough to twist her trajectory hard into the concrete. He leaned into the device and tipped it over the open tailgate. The two timbers rocked under their load then touched against the floor freeing the bomb to spin down the wooden ramp catching speed as it bounced onto the concrete. It spun across the floor and crunched across an iron grating halting hard against a machine – but didn’t detonate.
“What kind of present did you bring us?” Aravant asked.
Brett snatched at his two hammers and jumped off the truck, sprinting for the bomb. He didn’t see the vampires flinch when the device thudded against the machine. The assassins swooped at him. He slipped his grip down to the end of the handle of one hammer and spun. The metal fist punched through the skull of the first vampire flipping her end over end. She did not move for a moment after such a crushing blow but a finer view showed the healing already starting, although Brett didn’t stop to analyze. He brought the hammer around and cut up under the other assassin but missed catching her chin. The wicked stroke pulled the hammer from his grip and it shot through the plastic walls and clanged amongst equipment inside.
“Reginald, see what we need to repair.”
“Yes, sir.”
Brett reached the bomb and swung the second hammer at it. The assassin met his swing and caught the handle. “Breaking such a shiny present is not nice before we’ve had a chance to play with it.” She punched him hard in the stomach. When his reflexes brought his head forward and down she grabbed his hair and brought his neck up biting into his neck. He jerked but could not get free. She released her bite and punched her hand down onto his shoulder, smashing him to the concrete – his head hitting the metal grate. She splintered the handle on the hammer and dropped the broken shaft to the ground.
She held the steel hammer over his head. “Let’s see; a sixteen pound hammer head falling from six feet gives an impact equivalent to … Carry the nine, divide by g … oh hell, this will pretty
much squish your brains through that grate from this height.”
Brett looked sadly at the device sitting idle on the metal grate, inches out of his reach. So close, he almost completed the job but he knew his failure risked the world falling victim to the vampire’s plan. He saw a small lamp casting a pale light under the grate illuminating some sort of equipment monitor at the bottom of a shaft full of piping collected here to run outside to the cooling tower. The bottom of this shaft looked at least twelve or fifteen feet deep. The bomb could fit.
Brett grabbed the shattered ash hammer handle.
“Look,” she waved the hammer head, “he thinks he’s going to stake me like the movies! That won’t work, kid. Maybe I shouldn’t taunt you with the hammer head and just kill you?”
Brett didn’t bother replying. He focused on pressing the wedge-shaped broken end of the hammer handle into the gap between the metal grate and the concrete to pull himself forward on top of his lever. The grate lifted and slid off its edge support as it rotated up.
A better concrete worker would have built a wider ledge under the grate, or the construction budget finance approver might have spent more on a slightly wider grate to cover the same hole but the short ledge provided Brett with the same result. The grate flexed badly from the excessive weight of the device now only supported by two corners instead of the whole edge across its long span. The metal grid buckled, creased, and folded, squirting the bomb like a smooth watermelon seed between a child’s fingertips. Down the hole toward the light.
“Be safe, Anna.”
-:- Twenty-Four -:-
“We have to run, now!” Garin released the trailer chassis and we dropped to the concrete. “I know that engine – Uncle Tremper’s truck. He told me he planned to bomb Aravant. He worked with the British during WWII blowing rail lines and other targets – including vampires – nothing will be left here.”
We reached the tree line. Then the second flank of tree trunks and a third but a flash brighter than lightning whitened the trees in front of us. Garin dropped with me and rolled as best he could down and behind something. Branoc seemed nearby.
The blast powered passed us. Three foot thick hardwood timbers sheared off by buzzing steel rods and metal chunks twisted off machines near the center of the explosion. Garin protected me from falling wood blocks and the coming rain of factory debris by scooting under a few now fallen tree trunks. He dragged me back away from the blast center. Coiling hot arms of flame reached throughout the woods with sly fingers probing for dry matter to alight upon. The rains soaked everything so deeply that the raging fires had to first dry their targets before grasping at them. Yet still the trees burst into flame. Garin dragged me ever deeper into the forest to find an area where the air could be breathed safely. The inferno reached out clawing through the trees not flattened by the blast leaving choking gases in its wake. Garin flipped me onto his back and ran. I couldn’t focus. I remember the fire and the smoke and the running and how I slipped from his arms into blackness.
We still ran as I woke again. Garin and I alone, “Is Branoc all right?”
“Yes. He stayed behind to investigate. But really nothing is left.”
“Where are we going?”
“To see your sister, your nieces and nephews, and Brett.”
“You think it’s safe?”
“Yes. But we need to know what Uncle Tremper actually did. Your sister and Brett should know the details.”
I hung onto Garin. But fear gripped me from our close escape and dread-filled future.
We came to the house. The shed door, swayed by the little gusty winds, swung open and shut like an unseen hand unable to decide to stay in or go out. We took the cement steps to the porch at the back of the house.
“Anna!” Shannon hugged me, squeezing me harder than I thought possible, dragging me back into the house through the mud room into the kitchen. Garin followed us inside and closed the door. “You’re ok!” Then my nieces and nephews rushed out of the other rooms in the house and wrapped their little arms around my waist and legs.
“I’m covered in mud and rain and who knows what. You’ll have to wash your kids.”
“That’s ok.” Shannon finally released me. Then she came back with some dry clothes. “Some extra clothes of mine. These will be big but they are dry and warm. The bathroom is around the corner on the right. Garin, I don’t know what might be in the closets of Uncle Tremper’s friend but check the back bedroom.” She stepped aside to let the vampire pass her.
“Where’s Brett?” Garin asked.
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“He, he took the, the device … that Uncle Tremper made. He drove it in the truck. I thought you knew. Did something happen to him?”
“We don’t know.”
“Here, Anna, he left this for you. I’m not sure what’s in it,” she looked at Garin and Branoc to see if they had any clues on their faces, “but I think you better get dressed before reading it.”
I took the wedge of folded paper and went to the bathroom with the clothes. I turned on the shower. I set the paper on the little glass shelf over the sink next to the jar of tiny scented soaps. The paper could not have anything good on it. I couldn’t face it like this. My hair had bits of leaves and twigs and gravel ground into it. I peeled out of my wet clothes and stepped under the hot shower. I stood there. Thinking. Then thinking too much. I scrubbed myself and washed out my hair. Soft towels stacked near the tub sucked the water off my body.
My sister’s clothes did not fit and I smirked at her comments other days that I’ll get her and mom’s shape by the time I’m forty. It’s in our genes. It’s inevitable. Maybe. I’d fight it and see. I put a dry towel on the edge of the tub to sit on and sat down with the paper. I unfolded the creases gently and slowly. I didn’t really want to look. But then his words scratched before me, dashed in haste and emotion:
“Anna, you attracted me since you first appeared at the coffee shop and I grew to love you as we became closer. But I realized through everything that while you may like me or possibly approach loving me, your True Love remains Garin. He will never stop protecting you, I doubt he will ever leave you, and you will never stop loving him. I could not hope to compete with feelings that strong. We had to stop Aravant and when things went bad with Uncle Tremper and he couldn’t complete the task we set for ourselves I alone had to finish it. You will be safe now. I hope everyone is safe now. Realize what you have in Garin, even if he is a vampire. Please don’t succumb to the vampire life – stay human, pure, strong, and alive. You are meant to be alive. Love forever, Brett.”
Tears burst from my eyes. Brett! My body shook drawing air between sobs. Another way. There must be another way. You could have made another choice, taken other alternatives! But it’s done. He gave us a gift. He saved us from a sinister evil threatening us all. He destroyed the demons.
I wiped my eyes with my hands and grabbed the tissues. I sat on the edge of the tub until my thighs went numb. Then I stood and looked through the little window hung with a simple crocheted doily and cracked open to vent moisture to the outside. Tears pooled in my eyes and fell from my lids like the eaves dripped rain that continued to slip from the sky. When strong enough, I threw the soggy tissues into the waste paper basket and opened the door.
My sister appeared in the hallway and hugged me, “I’m sorry.” I hugged her back. I didn’t have anything to say. I rubbed my eyes and stumbled into the living room.
Garin sat in the recliner. His eyes on me. Branoc had come during my shower and stood silently on the tiles that carved out some space in the living room as an entry foyer. My sister had thrown a towel down to catch the dripping water that still leaked off his clothes. He found his rain coat in his car and put that on over his wet clothes, probably more to carry it than lessen the damp. The black coat ruffled like a feather or two kinked out of his normally smooth shape, his hair flattened against his forehead, but he stayed still in some sort
of professional protocol. I heard the kids playing in the basement and Shannon left to watch them.
Branoc started. “The rest of my cleaning team finished at the plant. Official story will be a gas fire on an experimental machine got out of hand and lit the main line. Not much really left of the plant. A huge hole in the ground blowing out in all directions. Thankfully the rain protected the whole forest area from fires outside of the hard blast zone. If earlier in the summer, the fire would not have stopped and we’d be fighting it for weeks. We did find one survivor. A semi-trailer chassis on its way out of the plant when the explosion occurred tipped against the guard shack and protected it like a thick shield. We had to pry the guard out of the mashed down gatehouse booth. He confirmed against our picture list that everyone we knew involved with the project had been present and working on the project – including Doctor Theron Aravant. As well as they recalled the assassin squad chasing us through the forest to join them in defending against the truck that smashed through the building. So Uncle Tremper and Brett got them all. Shannon told me what happened and I looked at the airport. I found where the assassins killed Uncle Tremper and demolished the plane. I’m sorry Anna … but Brett is the one that drove the truck into the plant. He saved everyone, a hero really, but he’s gone.”
I nodded and sat down on the couch. Garin still watched me. I wanted him to hug me and hold me – but I knew the challenge for him not knowing if I wanted that and this rift from my feelings for a different man that I lost and loved too. Or if he might be angry at my actions away from Garin. In time I might feel better. Maybe we could mend.
The Vampires Of Livix Twin Pack (Volumes #2 & #3) Page 30