by John O'Brien
I have to admit that I’m not overly comfortable with the plan. Not only are there far too many variables, but the way we’re doing it is a little beyond what I’m used to. It’s not like I haven’t located enemy forces and brought firepower to bear before, but this feels much different. I’m used to stealth infiltrations. This operation is way outside of my comfort zone. That’s aside from the fact that we’re facing an entirely different humanoid species. And dealing with something that foreign comes a degree of uncertainty with regards to their reactions. I know basic human reactions to certain stimuli and, although we talked at length with Vladmir, I still don’t really have a better understanding of the creatures than before. That’s more than likely where most of my uneasiness stems.
It’s not like I haven’t had worries before. I remember the concern I had when starting down this path. While it felt exciting at times and carried a sense of adventure, there was the fear that I’d do something wrong to fuck everything up. Oddly, I was never really worried about getting shot, it was of failing and letting the others down. I guess those who sit in cushioned leather chairs and probe various psyches with limited success would mention that my manhood was in question and I was trying to prove myself.
In the dark hours of night, I’ve deeply pondered this and many other things. Honestly, I think it’s a little more personal than that, as I don’t give a rat’s ass about belonging to some man club. Except when it comes to drinking through straws. No man should drink through a straw unless it’s a to-go order. At a table, no straw. I’m pretty sure that rule is written in stone somewhere. For me, I think it stems from a fairly deep-set fear of failure—I have to keep proving myself, but to no one other than myself. As a younger man, I pushed myself to see how far I could take things. I was always testing the limits of what I could do. Mind you, I don’t mean what I could get away with, although that may have been the case during some of my teen years. Sorry, Mom. Many of those endeavors resulted in adding to my bag of tricks.
I hate this waiting game more than anything else. There’s nothing to do except stew in your own thoughts. None of us say much as we sit on supply crates. We’ve already loaded up the oversized magazines and new ammo, along with the new knives.
Walking over, Lynn informs us that the town is currently being evacuated using the pretense of an outbreak and that bombs are thought to have been planted in the city by a rival cartel; the same cartel blamed as the one accused of raiding the beach house while searching for the hostages. They are loudly proclaiming it wasn’t them.
“Of course, their protests won’t matter much in a couple of hours when one of their locations is raided and explosives found,” Lynn says.
“I’m assuming those are being placed,” I respond.
“They are. We’re using contracted sources for that one,” Lynn states.
I sigh. “And, I suppose we can’t use those sources.”
“No, there’s a difference between infiltrating a cartel safe house and hunting down vampires,” Lynn replies.
“Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought.”
I wish there were a way we could bring in additional personnel, but that just doesn’t seem possible. Lynn goes on to say that we won’t be able to conceal the explosions even though the blockade is being set up some distance away. To explain away the AC-130 fire, the message is being leaked of possible mine fields in the area and firepower being used in an attempt to trip them.
“Also, we’ll be using non-tracer rounds to help hide the fact that we’re using a gunship.”
“You know, I was thinking–” I start.
“Oh, allow me get you some aspirin, then,” Greg comments.
“I may need more than that,” I reply. “These creatures need a protective lair to ride out the day. If they clear a region of wildlife, their food source, wouldn’t they merely find another place to set up? Why would they continue pushing forward if they find another, say, cave?” I question.
“That’s a good point. But, if they have subsisted on animals for so long and caught a scent, or sense, or whatever, of human blood, wouldn’t they push onward? After all, Vladmir mentioned that it was favored, animals used only in dire need. Maybe that’s why they’re heading toward the town,” Gonzalez reflects.
“Possibly. But, would they push too far from one suitable place without knowing if another one existed? I’m just pondering here. It could be that they lay up in another cave and don’t push on until they’ve cleared out the wildlife there. What I’m saying is that we could get everything in place and not have anyone show up,” I reply.
“I suppose that’s possible,” Lynn responds. “But, it’s also conceivable that they know about the town and see plenty of places to hide out there. Or, they could find a nearby one to raid. Vladmir commented that they have the intelligence to not go waltzing down Main Street, but would attack the outskirts for food. And, if they’re in dire enough need, who knows what they’ll do. But, they did just raid that village a while back, so who’s to say they won’t do the same here?”
“Vladmir also said that they could go months without sustenance if needed. I’m just pointing out that we’re dealing with so many variables,” I counter. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, just that we shouldn’t mentally lock ourselves into the plan. And, if I’m to be completely honest, I’m kind of filling this time with mindless thoughts.”
“Welcome to the club,” McCafferty comments.
Lynn rises to walk inside the gunship sitting in the middle of the hanger alongside one of the Blackhawks. Returning several minutes later, she informs us, “Okay, we’re a go for a dawn drop. Wheels up at two am. The Blackhawk will leave this evening and rendezvous with us near the drop site. Some of the personnel on the ground have moved most of the cattle, but there are enough remaining to provide a lure. I’ve arranged for us to visit the chow hall, but weapons remain here. If you need sleepy time pills in order to get some rest before we push off, I’ll have them available when you return.”
* * * * * *
The metal ramp lowers with the whine of hydraulics, the darkness of night almost a complete void seen from the dim red lighting inside. The cold of the altitude is penetrating, along with the increased roar of the engines and the slipstream. The pallet with the crated supplies is unstrapped and pushed toward the rear, held by a single retaining strap. With my mouth dry from breathing pure oxygen and the upcoming drop, I shuffle behind, waiting for the green light.
It would be nice to just be able to land and be escorted, but that would have entailed having more eyes see the gunship. The drop just adds one more variable to the mix. To me, having too many seems like trying to eat spaghetti with a spoon—too much shit just slips away.
The red jump light vanishes; the green illuminates. The pallet strap is released and the supplies are pushed out of the rear where they disappear into the night. We follow the crate out, the wind immediately grasping us in its hold. I angle slightly away from the direct path in order to avoid the large chutes that will deploy from the supply drop. I’d rather have the supplies dropped after we reach the ground, but it was decided to do this in one high pass because the final blockade is still being set up.
As my fatigues flutter in the slipstream, the eastern sky glows with the first hint of blue from the impending dawn. Below is completely dark with powerful lights showing from the blockades to the north, east, and south. To the west, there’s only the impenetrable darkness of endless jungles covering sharp ridges and deep ravines. Somewhere hidden beneath the dense canopy is a pack of vampires.
That thought still goes in the section of my brain where childhood monsters live, difficult to grasp even though I’ve already faced them on that one dark night. That memory, however, is sliding into the fuzzy realm of the unbelievable. The remaining clear images and short videos that play in my head feel as if I watched the whole thing instead of experiencing it.
Glancing at the hands of the altimeter winding down, I pull the cord and feel the flu
ttering of the chute being pulled from my pack. Then, the opening shock that jerks me upright. After checking for a good chute, which is clearly visible with our new vision enhancements, I release the supply pack that dangles below me on a cord. Shortly thereafter, the ground below becomes visible. It’s odd that I couldn’t see the ridgelines covered in a canopy of jungle given the changes in vision, but it seems that it’s range-based, much like our NVGs. The range of our adaptation is greater, but not overly much. As we drop closer, I begin to see the faint thermal outlines of cattle in the fields.
I land in the field, stepping through knee-high grass and unclipping the chute to let it flutter to the ground. I immediately drop to one knee and check the surroundings as I hear the whisper of the others dropping in. I have to say that being able to see further makes it a lot easier to keep track of our progress on the way down. In the field ahead is the pallet of supplies, draped with nylon parachutes.
Silently, we all move to surround the pallet. There’s only the movement and subdued moos of the cattle in an adjacent field. Gazing at the trees at the edge of the pasture, I search for any sign that we’re about to be met. With the increasing blue behind the mountains to the east, I doubt there would be any vampires prowling around, but the anxiety about what we’re doing has me on edge.
“Falcon, we’re down,” I radio Lynn. “Package intact.”
“Copy,” she replies. “Have you in sight. The town is clear and the embankment a hundred yards east. We’ll be leaving for the day, be back tonight. Give us a holler if you need us earlier.”
I hear the drone of the 130 as it passes overhead, the faint roar of the engines fading as if the growing dawn were pushing it away. The six of us push over to the edge of the irrigation stream to wait for full light. We aren’t worried about the cows talking to the news media, so we leave our chutes to deal with later.
The jungle next to the field transitions from deep shadows to bright displays of green shade as the sun crests the far peaks. It’s interesting to note the nearly flawless automatic changes from night vision to normal. I had expected some variation while it went back and forth, but that’s not the case. We set to breaking down the supplies with Henderson, while Denton keeps watch over the area. It’s not that there’s a huge worry about an intrusion, but it’s a matter of habit and good sense.
Much of the day is spent rigging a killing zone, placing claymores along the edge of the foliage and running the wires around the edges of the field. These are arranged in zones demarked with white stakes. With the firepower that’s planned to be dumped in the middle of the field after the strigoi feed, anything strung across the center will be destroyed, rendering the claymores useless.
This thing has so many avenues where it can go sideways in a hurry.
The strigoi could come from any direction, but the jungle is the logical choice. I hope the creatures think so as well. They can also retreat in any direction, but if we can deter them from entering the jungle, then we’ll have a better chance of bleeding them dry or at least weakening them. However, the terrain surrounding this little valley is all dense jungle. If they make it out of the clearing, then they’ll have the safety of the overhead cover and concealment from our electronics. And, there are the three blockades to think of.
So, the overall plan is to let the vampires feed, then tag them and bring in the Spooky. The claymores are to be set off if the creatures make a run for the jungle to escape.
Our gear is stored at the embankment and then we reconnoiter the outskirts of the town not far away. If things go terribly bad, meaning the vampires decide we’re in the way of their escape, then we need a get the fuck out of Dodge option. One of the buildings is two stories, with outside steps leading to the second level and further upward to the roof. We untie cords stretched across for laundry and remove a television antenna bolted to a chimney. This will be our bolt hole; I pass the information via satellite to Lynn so she can notify the Blackhawk crew.
In the later afternoon, we gather the cows together and stake lengths of rope into the ground. I waited until later because it seems cruel to keep them chained in one place all day. That thought strikes me as amusing, considering we’re using them as vampire bait and here I am worried about keeping them tied up all day. It’s weird how the mind works at times. We place a string of claymores in front of us as another line of protection. If the vampires locate us and decide we’re a better target, I’d like for them to first transit though a few thousand fast-moving ball bearings.
Shadows creep across the tops of the jungle, extending out into the fields and over the town, as the sun settles behind the steep ridges. In the last of the light, birds flitter across the clearings, making abrupt turns as they seek out their dinner. Large flocks sail across a deepening blue sky, the dark clouds performing dances. As the shadows deepen, they return to the trees to wait for the sun to rise again. We don our neoprene-armored suits that will hopefully give us added protection should things get up close and personal. In the heat of the day, wearing them would have been too much.
Lynn reports that she’s overhead and the Blackhawk is on station near the eastern blockade, away from prying eyes. We pop painkillers and have our stay awake pills on hand. Henderson and Denton have the air rifles ready with multiple darts laid out, and the rest of us lie along the lip of the embankment. As darkness settles across the land, insects and other creatures start a chorus of chirps and croaks from within the nearby jungle.
Glancing along the bank, there aren’t any telltale signs of heat emanating from the others. In the field, outlines of heat mark the staked cattle. Other small heat sources make quick maneuvers in the air above the field. I think it’s a little eerie that bats are out while we’re sitting here, waiting for vampires. I’m a bit nervous, waiting for a large pack to emerge without knowing how it’s going to go down. We may or may not see heat signatures of them arriving, so we’ll have to watch for movement. The Spooky high overhead will be able to assist once they’re in the open, and Lynn is watching our flanks.
The heat of the day dissipates, but wrapped in neoprene, I don’t feel much of a difference. There’s just the sound of the jungle critters and the occasional movement from the cows. Lying along the edge, the smell of grass and wet soil is prevalent. I glance back along our escape route, peering through a thin line of trees on the opposite bank to memorize the pathway in the different lighting. This is what all of the planning comes down to—lying in wait.
As the night progresses, we rest as best we can while trading watches. None of us can sleep with the possibility of vampires appearing at any moment. For me, I’ve never been able to sleep well on painkillers, so I’m awake while listening to the noises emanating from the jungle. I have to keep switching positions to keep parts of me from falling asleep, but I do it slowly so any sudden movement won’t be detected.
Overhead, the heavens crisply sparkle like only the countryside can provide. The blur of the Milky Way streaks across a sky sprinkled with the sharp twinkles of stars. I watch as the red of Mars inches across the sky and the bright light of Jupiter follows. Several times, a streak of yellowish-orange marks the trail of a meteor burning in the atmosphere. The normalcy of the universe seems so strange with what we’re facing on the surface of this planet, which is pretty strange in its own right. The universe wheeling slow arcs overhead sometimes seems as if it couldn’t give one shit about the tension and problems we’re confronting, just as very few of us really care much for whatever destructive forces those lights might be facing. Hell, some of those sparkles don’t even exist anymore.
Throughout the night, Lynn circles the jungled slopes without finding any sign of the vampires. According to the timing and their route of travel, they should have arrived tonight. However, with the false dawn arriving in the east, it’s apparent they won’t be here. That’s one of the many variables we’re facing. They may have not found a lair close enough, altered directions, or just chosen to have a family night at home. The only thi
ng we can do is remain ready and monitor for reports of additional mutilations.
The sun crests and our first nighttime vigil is over. After untying the cows to let them roam the pasture, there’s not much else to do. Lynn and the Blackhawk both retire for the day while we set up a watch schedule, and after removing the shark suits, we all head into our escape house to rest.
* * * * * *
The day progresses so slowly that I check outside several times to make sure the sun hasn’t crawled back toward the east. I try to amuse myself by looking at the interior and guessing how the family lives, what they think about from day to day, if they’re happy with their lot in life. I’m a touch jealous of the homemade tortillas and fresh produce. Taco Time is no comparison with their everyday meals. I’m tempted to rustle through the kitchen to see if there are leftovers, but that would just be rude. If someone were using my house, I’d hope they’d treat it with respect.
Instead, I dig into my pack and remove the heavy plastic of an MRE. The very name describes the contents—Meal Ready to Eat. That just cries out zero flavor, or even salt to hide whatever roadkill they picked off the highways. I will admit that some of it isn’t bad, but it’s not what this family eats. I pull out a small bottle of Frank’s to sprinkle on the cuisine. With all of the money the Organization has spent on us, it strikes me odd that we’re still stuck with MREs. I may bring that up and see if we can have some kind of catering service. The meals prepared at the resort are top notch, and if I didn’t value my time with the kids, I’d totally live there full-time.
As night again draws near, we journey from the house and stake the cows. If the house afforded a good enough view and vantage point, we’d use the roof as opposed to lying along the embankment. But, the thin line of trees on the town-side bank blocks a clear view. As much as I don’t want to engage vampires, I’m ready for this to play out one way or the other. The ideal solution would be if they caught the vampire equivalent of smallpox or Ebola, but I don’t think my bag of luck is that large.