by Leo Romero
Mack gave Vincent a thumb up; he returned the gesture albeit shaky. The rotors began to whir. Soon after, the chopper lifted off the ground. Vincent arced his head up as it rose into the air. He caught a final glimpse of Rufus’ unassuming and innocent eyes in the night sky.
“Good luck,” Vincent whispered to himself in the rain as the helicopter sliced away through the sky into the distance, an overwhelming sadness engulfing him like an inferno. “Good luck,” he repeated as the chopper became as small as a bird. “Because you will need it.”
PART SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Rufus watched Chicago pass by, dread rising inside his stomach. A sense of loneliness was brewing inside him like a storm. He had no idea where he was going or what he was heading into. On the one hand, it was kinda exciting, but on the other it was terrifying. Only the thought of saving Trixie and Dom was stopping him from totally crapping his pants. They needed him, he couldn’t let them down. Or Vincent. But, he couldn’t help that sense of uncertainty, that sensation of isolation brewing inside him. He was being sent away on a dangerous mission for the first time in his life. Was he ready for it? He couldn’t answer. All he had was the faith Vincent had put in him. If Vincent believed he was ready for it, then that was good enough for Rufus. He trusted Vincent more than anything and anyone, and his endorsement was worth more than gold.
He took a deep, shuddery breath, which helped him control those damn nerves and negative thoughts. He gazed at the chopper around him. It was the first time he’d been in a chopper, and he was kinda enjoying it. It was like being on a boat bobbing on the water, except on the air instead. It was like being on a fairground ride but without the twists and turns. Even though he was feeling a bit nervy, the buzz of the ride was making up for it. He was going out on a mission by chopper. And to the sounds of Slayer booming outta Mack’s stereo.
That was badass, bro. Badass.
He gazed down at the world below, the view from up in the sky awesome. He licked his lips in anticipation, adrenaline seeping into his veins. This was real. Action, excitement. He was kinda enjoying it.
But, just as he was getting into the groove, Mack began lowering the chopper. They landed at a private airfield in the middle of nowhere like it was AREA 51 or something. Rufus stared out at the lonely runway with a frown. This was like top secret stuff.
Mack shut down the rotors. “Okay, buddy, grab your stuff,” he said over his shoulder.
Rufus snatched up all his stuff and stepped out of the chopper. A couple of guys in suits came out of the shadows like a pair of ghosts to greet them. Rufus stared at them nonplussed. When they laid eyes on Rufus packed with his duffle bag and sun cannon, they flinched in surprise.
“Rufus?” one of them asked, his face pinched.
Rufus straightened his back and gave him a firm nod. At your service.
The guy held out his hand. Rufus shook it.
“We’ve got a jet waiting for you, right over here.”
Rufus just gave him another nod.
The guy glanced at his buddy. The guy shrugged.
“It’s okay, fellas,” said Mack as he approached. “Show us to the plane, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Of course. Follow us, please.”
They got on the jet and Mack took off. “Gonna be a long flight, buddy,” Mack’s voice came through on the jet’s intercom. “Probably a good time to get some shut eye.”
They took off straight away. Crossing the Atlantic would take around half a day, and they had around twenty hours to get to Egypt. Rufus looked around him. The seats were plush, there was a drinks bar. He decided to just sit back and listen to some tunes. He pulled out his smartphone and flicked through his songs till he found Metallica, clicked play, and sat back. As the guitars slashed through the air, he nodded his head, his train of thought back on his mission. He was a lone soldier heading into a battle for the first time. Cheap 80s action movies began flitting through his mind, the kinda stuff he’d watch with Trixie on a Saturday night while eating pizza. He was that guy, the one with all the weapons at his disposal, sent in to wipe out the bad guys and save everybody.
Man, that is so surreal.
It was surreal, but he was the adopted son of a vampire hunter after all. Could you get more surreal than that?
His eyes fell on his duffle bag. He picked up the bag of goodies and opened it up. He pulled out the small box of lenses, the ones Vincent said he needed to wear to stop the vampires from freezing him with their stares. Yeah, he’d need to remember to put those in ’cause that sounded like a pretty bad thing.
He put them to the side and pulled out a dart gun. He unclipped the magazine. The darts inside it were blue, meaning they were holy water, the stuff that smoked vampires in an instant. Trixie told him all about holy water. About what great, effective stuff it was. Puts em down like bug killer.
Rufus aimed the sights at the window. His hand was shaking. He watched it tremble with a heavy heart. He was nervous; it shuddered in his bones. Vincent said he shouldn’t be nervous. He’d already cheated death. Rufus knew that. Who else had been shot four times and survived? No one he’d ever known. After being shot and still living to tell the tale, he felt sorta invincible. Yeah, like he was tough, tougher than almost anyone else. That made him a badass. He nodded to himself. A bonafide tough MF’ing badass.
There really was no need for him to be nervous. All he had to do was get in there and let rip. He curled up his top lip and nodded firm and slow. He’d show those damn vamps what he was made of.
He glanced back at his hand and it was still shaking. He dug deep into his soul and he realized he wasn’t nervous for himself. It was the others. Trixie. Dom. He was scared for them, scared for their lives. Coupled with that, he didn’t wanna let anyone down. Vincent. Papa. He didn’t wanna fail anyone. That’s what was eating him up, causing that weird sensation in his stomach like eels squirming around in there as each minute passed by. He just wanted to succeed in his mission.
He thought back to being shot. The image of that guy shooting him was branded in his mind. Nixon they called him. That smug expression on his ugly face as he pulled the trigger made Rufus mad whenever he envisaged it. Rufus swore if he ever saw that asshole again, he’d wipe that look right off his face. Permanently.
He now noticed his hand was shaking harder. But it wasn’t shaking out of nerves, it was shaking in rage. Nixon. He’d always remember that guy. Always. With his face came the recollection of the pain of bullets piercing his skin. Rufus knew pain from martial arts practice, but the pain of those bullets, coupled with the shock was something he’d never forget. It was white-hot, dreamlike, but more vivid. Those bullets slammed into his chest. He felt them enter him, but they somehow stopped like he suddenly became a wall. It was weird, hard to explain, like he was made of lead. He’d passed out from the shock and pain, but he dreamed, dreamed about Papa. And he’d been dreaming ever since. Reliving the whole thing over and over. He was convinced he’d be plagued by those dreams for the rest of his days. Yeah, it was a miracle he’d survived, but it came with a price. And the price was the memories of the pain and fear.
But there was something else in his dreams. Papa. Papa kept coming back, repeating that same thing. You need to protect Vincent from the darkness in the snow. Whatever that meant. Rufus wanted to put it down to just nonsense stuff playing on his mind. He missed Papa, wished he were still alive, and so his subconscious was making things up.
But, the image of Papa in his dreams was so real. He could see him, hear him, smell the aroma of burned tobacco from his pipe that always seemed to envelop him, laced with cherry and vanilla. Every contour and line of his face was there in his mind; the mole just to the right of his nose. His weary, yet piercing eyes. Rufus could sense the determination in those eyes as he conveyed his message. ‘You need to rise! You still need to save Vincent from the darkness in the snow!’
Rufus had risen and had defied death, but what was it all for?
He stared down at the dart gun once more. Maybe that was what all this was for. His mission was to save Dom and Trixie and not Vincent. Maybe the snow was really the sand. Maybe the blur of dream-like states had fuzzed Papa’s words and he’d interpreted them incorrectly. He let out a sigh. Who knew?
On his deathbed, Papa was old and withered like a plant in the winter. He still had strength enough to tell Rufus how he’d been a great companion to Vincent in his battle against the vampires, and the responsibility would now pass onto Rufus himself, his only son. Rufus promised Papa he would fight to the death for Vincent in his honor. His eyes then closed and he drifted off into a deathly sleep. The pain that bombed into his heart straight after was the first real emotional agony Rufus had experienced. It was a pain of the heart and not the flesh. Papa was all he had. He never knew Mama; she died after giving birth to him. From what he knew, his birth was a difficult one. It was enough to kill her. It always made him feel sad to think that his life had taken the life of his own mother. But, Papa said it happened because he was special. One day he’d know, he’d understand, and he would realize that Mama dying wasn’t in vain. Rufus didn’t know if there was any truth to that. But, what happened, happened. It wasn’t his fault; there was nothing he could do about it. Both his parents were gone, but now, he had Vincent and Trixie and more recently, Dom. They were his new family. Papa had died and so one generation led onto the next and now it was Rufus’ duty to protect.
He replaced the dart gun back in the duffle bag and pulled out the other dart gun, the one with the green darts in the magazine. Green were tranquilizers. These were to be used on humans. No matter what, he was to do everything in his power not to kill a human being. Those were the rules. Vampires were to be killed, humans spared. No matter how much they may want to kill him, he had to avoid killing them first. The servants of the vampires were victims and had to be saved from their clutches, not punished for their mistakes. Rufus could get that. He didn’t wanna kill anyone.
He nodded his head as he replaced the gun in the bag. It was a big responsibility placed on his shoulders. He hoped he could handle it, prayed he could rise to the challenge. He didn’t want to dishonor the name of his father by failing, didn’t want to have to live with the shame of letting any harm come to Dom and Trixie. He had to be strong, had to make sure he didn’t fail.
He hated the thought of Trixie and Dom being in trouble. Trixie was like his sister. As he could only speak sign, he struggled to communicate with girls like Trixie. He usually just gave them a polite nod and smile to show he meant no harm, but anything beyond that was virtually impossible. Trixie took the time to learn sign language, and for that, Rufus was grateful. He was glad when Trixie came along. She was in a bad way when Vincent adopted her. At first, he was scared she’d just label him a weirdo, but she sat down with him and asked him to teach her his language. Rufus was more than happy to show her; it meant she cared, and Rufus cared back. He always did. If anything happened to her, he took it personally.
He liked Dom too. Dom was cool. Dom was someone Rufus would like to be more like. Confident, brash, not afraid of any situation. Vincent told Rufus about what went down in Brazil. Rufus kept thinking about how scared Dom must’ve been in that temple all on his own. Surrounded by ancient traps and then facing up to that evil vampire. When Rufus thought about it, that was supposed to be his role. That was why he existed. To serve. To protect Vincent in his mission against the vampires. That was what Papa always said. And he believed it, and he trusted Vincent and Papa. They wouldn’t let him down. And he wouldn’t let them down.
Lying on the seat next to him was the sun cannon. He grabbed hold of it. It was light, but bulky like an assault rifle. Eddie told him it could emit artificial beams that replicated sunrays, but it needed to be charged in the sun for it to work. Rufus ran a finger along the solar-power strips. He aimed it and pretended to fire. Bam! He felt like a real soldier, like he was about to play Call of Duty for real. He grinned, imagining burning vamps to death with it.
Nice. Bring it on, vampires!
Metallica made way to Pantera, just as Rufus placed the sun cannon back on the seat next to him. He sat back and gazed out of the window. The world outside was black. As Pantera blasted out of his smartphone, his eyelids began to grow heavy. The smooth ride of the jet like a shark gliding through water was coaxing him into a sleep. He fought against the drowsiness, throwing his eyelids back open, but even matchsticks couldn’t hold them up. They fluttered shut and remained that way. With benevolent images of Papa, Vincent, Trixie, and Dom swirling in the darkness behind his eyelids, sleep consumed him and he was out for the count in minutes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The jet landed with a bump and Rufus jolted out of his sleep. He gazed around him for a second with wide eyes, his unfamiliar surroundings sending him into a small panic. He’d been dreaming about Papa again. He was just standing there in those weird robes with that blue cross, telling him about saving Vincent from the darkness in the snow. What did it mean?
“Sorry for the rough landing, buddy,” came Mack’s voice through the intercom. “Time to rock and roll.”
With an internal groan, Rufus stretched his limbs and grabbed his stuff. He slung his sun cannon over his back and his duffle bag over his shoulder and headed for the door, which Mack had just opened. Blazing sunlight flooded into the plane, causing Rufus to squint against it. He stepped gingerly down the steps, looking left and right. He found himself on an airstrip, the whole world shimmering with heat. In the far distance, craggy mountains lined the horizon. There were military planes and choppers dotted around. People in camouflage fatigues were running here and there. Rufus watched it all in bemusement. He staggered down the steps. He was groggy and tired. The journey was a long one, and the fun hadn’t even begun. The hot Mediterranean sun bore down on him, a million miles from Chicago.
Where am I?
A silver-haired guy with stern features marched up to him, just as his feet touched runway. “Welcome to RAF Akrotiri,” the guy said in a strong British accent, holding out his hand.
In a half-daze, Rufus shook the guy’s hand.
“How was your trip?”
Rufus just stared at him.
Mack rushed up, placing shades over his eyes. He cleared his throat. “It’s okay, I’ll do the talking.”
The silver-haired guy’s eyes lit up. “You must be Mack.”
“In the flesh.”
“Group Captain McKinney.”
Mack shook McKinney’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Hope you had a pleasant trip.”
“Peachy.”
“Good. Now, your helicopter is right over here...” McKinney marched off. Rufus gave Mack an unsure stare.
Mack gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Come on, buddy.” He followed McKinney and Rufus followed Mack. As he went, he caught glimpses of the other soldiers. Some of them were in clusters, staring at him as he went, their faces contorted in confusion or wide in surprise.
One of them gave him a funny stare. “This little kid?” Rufus overheard him mutter to his buddies. Rufus stared at the tarmac as he went by.
McKinney stopped by a chopper. “She’s the best we could get at such short notice.”
Mack gave the chopper a pat. “She’ll do nicely.”
McKinney gave him a firm nod. “Good.”
Rufus stared at the helicopter. As he did, he could sense eyes on him. His ears pricked. He glanced over his shoulder. It was the other army guys again. They were hovering around, their eyes darting left and right, rocking on their heels. They probably knew something was going down, but for some reason they were under orders not to intervene. Maybe it was like Vincent said. They’d just end up tearing everything to pieces.
McKinney leaned into Mack. “The lads have been itching to get at this Glo-Ji thingy, especially since they took some British hostages. While the hold back is understandable to protect the hostages, it’s e
ating away at them.”
Mack nodded in understanding. “I can dig that, Captain. We all wanna see the end of these assholes.”
“I’m not privy to what exactly your mission is, but I’m under orders to allow the young lad to fly over restricted airspace. I don’t know what it is he’s got, but I’m too long in the tooth to ask questions. There’s strange stuff in this world, I know that. If the powers that be think he’s up to the task, then who am I to question them?”
Both Mack and McKinney glanced at Rufus. Rufus just stared back at them both.
Mack nodded. “The kid’s got skills.”
“I hope so,” McKinney retorted with a stern nod. He met Rufus’ stare. “Do me a favor, matey. Kick their arses for us!”
Rufus nodded, a faint smile on his lips.
McKinney saluted them both. “Good luck.” He spun away and marched off.
When he was gone, Mack faced Rufus. “You ready to go, buddy?”
Rufus nodded.
“Okay, here’s the plan as far as I know. I’m gonna take you down near the pyramid and drop you there. From there. It’s down to you. If all goes well, you’ll bring Dom and Trixie back with you and I’ll getcha all outta there. Nod your head if all that’s right.”
Rufus nodded.
“These assholes are expecting us, right?”
Rufus gave him an unsure nod.
“Well, according to Vincent, they’re expecting someone. We’re the only ones allowed to go in there. So, you all set?”