Dead Force Rising

by JL Oiler

  “Vampire,” she whispered into the wind that whipped around her.

  The creature raised it face, Keith’s blood running from the corners of it mouth. Looking straight at her it smiled, a grisly fang filled grin that made her skin crawl.

  “Pretty, Pretty,” it said, keeping its yellow eyes on her while dropping its grip on Keith’s body and standing. “Come to me, pretty.”

  Thorn began to back pedal away from the approaching creature. She had no plans of being dessert for this thing, this vampire. Turning to run, Thorn made it only a few feet before the thing was on her, seizing her by the hair and jerking her backwards with a ear splitting scream. She kicked and reached back to scratch at the hand that held her as the beast began to drag her around toward the back of the ambulance. As they reached the open doors, Thorn found herself propelled up into the back, crashing on the cot as the creature crawled in behind her.

  “My pretty, pretty. I am so going to enjoy you.” The creature slurred as it used the back of its hand to wipe away the mixture of blood and drool, which dripped off the end of its chin.

  Thorn watched in horror as the thing began to rub the front of its pants, its intent now obvious. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, her mind racing in search of something she could use against this thing. Jumping from the cot, she attempted to dash up to the front, hoping to slip between the front seats and out one of the doors. Instead, the vampire caught her shirt, ripping it from her body as it pulled her back to the cot and beneath its large body. It groped her breast with one hand as it attempted to pull off her pants, the entire time she slapped, scratched and screamed.

  The vampire growled in frustration when it was unable to release the buckle of her belt. Wrapping her hair around one hand, it pulled her head backwards, intent on stilling her with a bite. Terror gripped Thorn as she felt the heat of the creature’s breath as it descended on the throbbing vessels of her throat. Was this truly to be her end? Squeezing her eyes tight, Thorn waited for what she thought was inevitable.

  Instantly the weight of the vampire disappeared. Opening her eyes, Thorn watched in disbelief as a figure she recognized battled the thing. It was John. There was something different about the man who visited her dreams, something wild and untamed. He growled and hissed at the monster, snapping his jaws as the two tumbled about the ground. Thorn stared at them in shock. John was something other than human as well, she knew it for certain. Still she feared for him. That thing had already killed two men and intended to rape and devour her.

  She crawled toward the open doors as the two rolled out of sight. Thorn was unable to see far beyond the flash of the ambulance lights, instead she relied on the sounds of the battle. When all fell silent, the tension hit a nearly explosive point. Moving further back into the unit, she waited nervously to see what would emerge from the darkness, the beast or the man she thought she knew.

  “Thorn!?” John's voice reached her through the whine of the winter wind causing her to shake and cry in relief.

  He emerged through the darkness looking at her from the back doors, red and white lights dancing and reflecting off the snow in the background. His face was red with smears of what appeared to be suet, his eyes glistening as he looked at her.

  “Come here, Thorn. Let me get you out of here and someplace safe.”

  Moving as fast as she could, Thorn exited the vehicle, crawling into him a sobbing, shivering, frozen mess. She wanted to pretend this was all some sort of bizarre nightmare, at any moment she would wake up, and things would be normal in her world once again. However, she knew better than to cling to such hope, instead she clung to the only thing Thorn had around her, John.

  Thorn felt her feet leave the ground as he scooped her up and headed toward a jeep she’d never heard arrive. She stayed in his arms as he slid into the back of the vehicle and signaled someone in the front to drive. The whole thing seemed too much to take in at that moment and she hid her face against John's shoulder and closed her eyes tight, attempting to block out anything but the smell of his skin and the feel of his arms. She had no idea where they were headed and at the moment, she could've cared less.

  “We’re here, sweetie,” John said, slowly unwrapping his arms from around her. “Let’s get you inside and I’ll make certain you get a warm bed and a decent night's sleep before we thrash this all out. There's nothing that can’t wait until morning,” he promised as he slid from the jeep and slowly lowered her back to her feet.

  Thorn wanted to argue, to complain about him calling her sweetie, or presuming she would be here come morning, however she just felt too tired, confused, and cold to care at this point. Instead, she allowed him to lead her past a pair of sentries into an elevator, his hand resting against the small of her back. It made her feel strangely safe as the elevator descended to parts unknown. Safe was something no man other than Thomas was ever able to make her feel and after what she’d seen tonight, she wanted to feel safe above all else. Taking a deep breath, she suppressed all the turmoil the night had seen fit to bring down on her. She was stronger than this.

  The next thousand steps she took at his side brought them through long corridors and into a large circular room occupied with three couches, a big screen television, a weight bench, and a pool table. Spaced evenly around the entire circumference were five doors in addition to the one they used to enter the area. No one else occupied the space. This must some sort of dayroom she thought to herself as he guided her to the right and through the very next opening. It was a very modest bedroom, containing only a large bed and single dresser. Looking about a bit apprehensive, Thorn swallowed the lump in her throat. Did this guy expect her to simply hop into his bed? He might be sexy as hell but she didn’t know shit about him, other than he was something more than her average male. Not only was that a no, it was a hell no! Thorn turned and gave him her best 'I don’t think so' attitude.

  “The shower is right through that door,” John told her. “And I’ll give you one of my t-shirts. You can have the bed and I’ll crash on one of the couches in the other room. I suggest you lock the door once I leave,” he added with a wide grin, which said he knew what she thought he intended.

  “Uhm, ok,” Thorn said, looking about a bit embarrassed about jumping to conclusions.

  “I’ll leave you then,” he told her, grabbing an extra blanket and pillow from the bottom of the bed.

  “Thank You,” Thorn said with a slight apologetic smile.

  “No problem, sweetie. We’ll talk about things in the morning. Now you better get some sleep.” John winked and exited the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

  She stood looking at the closed door in disbelief. Sergeant John Rose wasn't anything like she expected when she first started following him a week earlier. Doing as he suggested, Thorn locked the door. She might trust John more than before, but she had no idea who else lived in this place.

  Thorn stripped out of her jacket, hanging it on the footboard post as she shed the rest of her clothes and walked into the bathroom. She was tired as hell but her body throbbed painfully as the heat began to thaw her numb skin. A hot shower would speed the process up and help her relax before she crashed.

  She stood in the downpour of water, absorbing the sensation of the droplets striking her skin. Grabbing up the bar of soap, Thorn held it to her nose, breathing in the distinct scent of him. A flutter in her stomach made her frown. What was she thinking? This man was a stranger and she’d allowed him to bring her to this place where she knew no one, was in some building with walls so thick she was certain no one could hear her scream. Now she was standing naked in a shower daydreaming of the smell of him, with thoughts she wasn't ready to admit to running around in her head. Thorn decided her brain must have frozen out in that snow covered street. That, or the creature had bitten her and she was now in some weird alternative reality.

  ****

  John walked stiffly toward the couch, which would be his bed for the rest of the night. It took everything he ha
d not to turn around and head back to his room. The beast dwelling inside him called out for him to take her regardless of what she said or did. He was thankful for the weeks of training he and the four other recruits in the unit had done to learn control. However, having Thorn in such close proximity and in such distress earlier was a test unlike anything the General or the Doctor could devise.

  Stuffing his pillow into the corner of the couch, he climbed onto the cushion and let out a long sigh. He wondered about his own motivation for bringing her here. John would love to be able to say it was purely for her own safety, or because she may threaten his ability to complete his mission. In reality, it was a lot more selfish than either. He wanted to be near her, see her, hear Thorn's voice. John had fallen in love with her long ago when she was no more than a picture and a dream. General Striate must have known that somehow. That could be the only explanation of putting her directly in John's path. Did Striate truly think Thorn could handle the type of physical relationship he would demand or that she could live in the bizarre world John now called home?

  Closing his eyes, John couldn't think of anything other than the erotic images his mind created of her standing in the shower, hot water cascading across her round breasts, tucked waist, and full hips. He longed to taste her kiss and hear his name upon her lips. It was with those images he fell asleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Hey Sarg, what are you doing out here?” Caleb Bell asked as John opened his eyes and squinted at the group of men gathered around him.

  The smirks and shit eating grins said that each of the team members knew the reason he’d slept on the dayroom couch, yet they waited patiently for him to spill the beans. Sitting up, he rubbed a hand through his dark hair. Not only were they looking for an explanation but he knew Thorn would be waiting for one as well. That was one conversation he didn't look forward to having.

  “All right boys, tell me none of you have been near my room bothering my guest?” He asked, giving them a look that dared them to say they had.

  “Do we look stupid, boss?” Caleb asked with a chuckle.

  Bell was the youngest of the group. At twenty-five, he’d only been in the service for a little over a year. Why he volunteered for this unit was a complete mystery. Though John thought it had something to do with the kid’s knee. He once heard Bell say something about an injury from an improvised explosive device, better known as an IED, the vehicle he’d been in hit while in Iraq.

  Beside him Kenneth J. Harlow, aka Hark, stood with his large arms crossed in front of him. The scars which cris-crossed the right side of his face were a constant reminder to them all of what could happen should a man be caught outnumbered in hostile territory. Hark was the largest man in the group at six foot six, he was three hundred pounds of pure muscle, a definite force to reckon with. Hark was a true modern day gladiator.

  Brad Beamer was the next member of the team, the logistics specialist in their little fucked up family. There wasn’t a number he couldn’t crunch or a computer system Beamer couldn’t crash. An enlarged heart threatened to end his military career before he signed on with General Striate. The man was cocky but lacked the confidence to back it up in the field, making his work behind the scenes a perfect fit for him. His thin, athletic build was also a stark contrast to the other team members.

  This left the last member of the team, Donald Monroe. Monroe was the oldest of the group at thirty-six, and by all rights, he should have outranked them all. However, a bad attitude and inability to take orders had him busted down to a corporal. It was also the reason the man ended up here. It was either this bunch of misfits or peeling potatoes in the mess hall until his enlistment ran out.

  “So what’s with hauling some woman into the nest?” Monroe grumbled, shooting a sideways glance in the direction of John’s room.

  “Definitely not the most intelligent choice, bringing a civilian female down here,” Beamer added.

  “That isn’t any of your fucking business,” John growled, standing and heading toward the room where Thorn most likely still slept.

  “You two better just lay the hell off,” Hark warned. “If the Sergeant thought it best to bring his woman to the safety of the nest then it’s not our place to question him.”

  “Thanks, Hark,” John threw over his shoulder as he continued to his destination. He had a sudden need just to be near her and know Thorn was safe.

  ****

  Thorn awoke to the gentle rap of someone knocking at the door. Rolling over, she stretched and rubbed her eyes before looking around the room. She’d hoped she'd discover herself in her own bed under grandma’s quilt. Instead, the warm, sweet smell of cinnamon and spice she associated with Sergeant John Rose greeted her. The events of the night still haunted her thoughts, it wasn't every night your work partner got his throat torn out by a vampire who wanted to rape you. Then the man whose bones you’ve been dreaming of jumping shows up like the hero of some cheap romance novel to save the day. Of course, there was still one more twist to this lurid little story. Thorn's knight in shining camo also had fangs. The whole thing was very surreal.

  “Thorn sweetie, are you awake?” John’s voice called from the other room.

  “Yes, give me a minute,” Thorn called as she stood and pulled the hem of his shirt as far down her legs as possible although it still feel a few inches above her knees. Moving slowly, she clicked the lock on the door allowing it to open and stepped back a bit nervously.

  “Hey,” John said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”

  Thorn could feel his eyes run across her as though they were his hands making goose bumps form along her arms and legs. Something about the man made her feel giddy as a teenager, even though she was certainly out of her element here and still attempting to process the event she witnessed last night.

  “I’m alright,” she said low, looking at his bare feet on the tile floor rather than into his amber eyes.

  “I wondered if perhaps you were ready to talk about last night,” John asked, running the tips of his fingers gently along the curve of her jaw, raising her face up as he did so.

  Thorn felt the butterflies, which now seem to permanently reside in her stomach, take flight at his touch. She knew this was irrational. She should be screaming her head off in fear of him and what she’d seen. Instead she felt a strange calm.

  “That was a vampire that attacked us,” she said softly, watching as he nodded in confirmation. “Are you a vampire?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what exactly are you?”

  “I’m a man, mostly.” He moved forward so she could feel the raise of his chest brush against her breast. “I can’t explain exactly what resides inside me, Thorn. Not yet.”

  Thorn could feel the pull of the attraction between them drawing her to raise her mouth to his as he leaned in slowly. It was like a jolt of electricity shooting through her the moment their lips touched. She knew he felt it as well when one arm wrapped about her waist as he hauled her even closer, lacing the fingers of the other hand into her hair.

  ****

  John fought hard to resist the aphrodisiac of Thorn's lips. It called to the animal side of him, begging him to take her there in his room. However, John knew it was too soon to make such a bold move. Making such a misstep could easily send her running. Still, he couldn't break away from the taste of her, the warmth of her mouth or the way she seemed to melt willingly into his embrace.

  A sharp, hard rap on his door instantly killed the moment, forcing John to release Thorn and step away to catch his breath.

  “Sarg,” Hark's voice called through the metal door. “The General wants you and the woman in the meeting room ASAP.”

  With a slight smile and sigh, John winked at a still breathless Thorn. Had his team member not interrupted, he wasn't so certain he could've resisted going further than a simple kiss. He found her just too damn desirable.

  “I think maybe we should find you s
omething other than my t-shirt to wear if you plan to leave the room. Otherwise, I might have to fight my entire crew,” he told her before turning to crack the door slightly so he could speak to Hark. “Could you see if Beamer would loan Thorn a set of fatigues?”

  “He’ll fork over a set or I’ll take them off his scrawny little body,” Hark assured him before turning and disappearing back toward the others.

  Turning back around, John regarded a fidgeting Thorn. Hiding his amusement at her discomfort, he grabbed a clean shirt for himself out of the dresser, removed and tossed the one he’d slept in into his small hamper. He could feel her watching him and he loved how it felt. A sharp knock signaled Hark’s return. Answering the knock, John discovered the man had been true to his word and brought a set of fatigues far closer to her size.

  “Here you go, sweetie. Change into these and I’ll meet you in the dayroom,” John told her as he tossed the uniform onto the bed and headed for the door, stopping when he felt her hand on his arm. He expected her to say something. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  “Thank you again for everything,” she whispered against his lips before turning to snatch up the clothes and bounce into the bathroom.

  John watched her close the door behind her, his chest so full he thought it might burst. Damn he could get use to having her around. Then again, he could get use to having her everywhere. She was like a bright light at the end of a very dark tunnel. John often laughed at the idea of falling in love, especially at the idea that someone could steal his breath with just a smile. However, now he understood those sentiments rang true.

  “I had to roll up the pant legs and cinch the buckles at the waist but I think it works,” Thorn told him as she stepped out decked from the neck down in desert camo.

  “You look great,” he told her, holding out his hand. “Let’s go see what Striate wants.”

  John stood a bit taller when she placed her hand trustingly in his own and they headed toward the door. He knew his entire crew would be standing by to catch their first glimpse at his guest. Though it would most likely be a bit uncomfortable for Thorn, he couldn't wait for them to see the beauty of his woman. His woman? Where had that come from?