The Complete Protected by the Damned Series
Page 92
“Right.” He chuckled. “Though I don’t know if the gangsters you brought in the other day would be able to figure out the IT logistics.”
“Hey, they were just muscle,” she protested. “Muscle that knows the importance of the word ‘discreet.’”
“I hope so,” he replied, walking forward to the edge of the launch building and scanning the land in front of him.
It was sand for the most part, but farther out there were both grassy and dirt-covered areas, with a ridge of short cliffs running along the edge. It was quiet—very quiet—and they could see for miles in all directions. There was a lot of work to be done, but he couldn’t imagine the place not being perfect for what they were trying to do.
“Out there,” Stephanie told him as she came up beside him. “There used to be a dirt airstrip. It was somewhere between twelve and fifteen hundred feet long, but it hasn’t been used for nearly thirty years.”
Stephanie pointed at a strip of grass and dirt to the west, which was overgrown but recognizable. Korbin put his hand to his chin, thinking about what it would take to make it useable again. He wanted an airstrip. It was a priority, but he knew that living quarters were first and foremost.
Stephanie and Korbin walked around the base, stopping at the concrete slabs with Joshua’s machines on pallets stacked on them.
They could probably use those slabs to put up some new buildings on, or even possibly a kitchen where everyone could take turns preparing dinners and such. It was a long shot, but Korbin thought maybe it would be better than pizza every night.
Stephanie pointed to an area fifty or so feet away. “I want to create the foundation for the business, for Joshua’s things, right beyond this slab we’re standing on. It will connect to the network down below, though I don’t think we will be able to put the machines below because of ventilation issues for now. Maybe in the future we can move everything down there and have him completely hidden away from the world. I think he’d much rather have it that way than have to run screaming every time someone came to the base. The more I’m here, the more I appreciate the usefulness of underground compounds.”
“I don’t know if that will be possible, actually,” Korbin admitted. “As much as I would like to have him stowed away, I doubt that we will be able to put that part underground without risking our safety, due to the high gas content of the metals he works with. That being said, we can put the raw materials down below in a vault, along with the finished product. That will leave very little aboveground—maybe nothing more than the equipment and the work in progress.”
“The finished weapons could be stored in the weapons bunker with the rest of them,” Stephanie suggested. “Whatever is available for team use can be left out, and the rest can be locked up for clients and orders. If there gets to be too much stock to keep in there, we can always create a bunker just for those. There are plenty of areas underground. Even if we had everyone live underground instead of in the barracks, there would still be dozens of rooms available for us to use.”
“Good.” Korbin nodded. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you—I spoke with a contact at the airport. There is a MH-6 Little Bird for sale that I am considering purchasing. It won’t carry the entire team—maybe five at the most—but I was thinking that would get us on the road a lot faster. I could get from here to the jet facility in Las Vegas in about fifteen minutes. I am still looking for a chopper that’s big enough for the whole team, but I figured it would be a start. We can use it locally for reconnaissance. They are relatively straightforward to fly, too.”
“That’s awesome,” Stephanie exclaimed, slapping him on the shoulder. “Get your airstrip set up and you are a bona fide operation.”
“I sure hope so.” He chuckled.
Chapter 20
Katie kicked a red solo cup across the floor and went around the corner into the kitchen, where Damian was standing amidst bottles and mess. Given the party they had thrown the night before, there were bound to be some hungover twenty-somethings nearby besides the ones on the lawn. Unless they were infected twenty-somethings, though, the call was a complete bust. Damian held up a bottle of no-name whiskey and grimaced.
“They should be locked up.”
“There’s no evidence of anything demon-related here.” Katie picked up a bra with the tip of her knife. “I’ll call it in.”
“Good idea,” Damian agreed as Katie got on her phone. “And ask if anyone there wants some stale Doritos or Natural Light beer.”
Katie laughed, turning away with the phone pressed to her ear. It wasn’t the excitement she had expected, but at least they had found three living people and the humor of the situation. The phone rang twice, and the local lead picked up.
“This is Max.”
“Hey, it’s Katie. We are at 419 Brunswick. There’s nothing here except the remnants of a party and three passed-out kids in the front yard.”
“All right, good,” he said, making a note. “We have another call. Write down the address.”
“Okay,” Katie said, pulling her notepad from her back pocket and grabbing a pen out of the puddle of beer on the table. “Hit me with it.”
Katie and Damian left the party house and stepped into the SUV. One of the kids slowly raised his head off the grass to watch them drive away.
Katie chuckled as she put the address into the GPS. She sat back and looked out the window. She had never been to a party like that, not even in college. Between keeping her grades up to keep her tuition assistance and playing volleyball for a coach who monitored their every move, she had stayed out of fraternity row for the most part.
Most of the girls on her team had bitched about it, but Katie was fine. She wasn’t interested in getting barfed on.
As they turned away from the main street, Katie realized that the scenery was changing with it. The houses were smaller and more run-down, and the general area wasn’t very well-kept.
She got a chill up her spine, and realized that this one might be the real thing. Damian slowly pulled up in front of the target house and they got out, making their way to the door.
The yard was overgrown, and there weren’t any signs of life. When they knocked on the door they heard low, deep growls, followed by the sounds of furniture crashing to the floor.
“What in the hell is going on in there?” Damian asked. “Sounds like a fucking twelve-foot Rottweiler.”
It’s no normal dog, Pandora warned. Those are hellhounds.
What? Katie replied, putting her hand up to signal for Damian to wait. You guys can enter hounds?
Well, yeah. We can enter pretty much anything with a soul, she explained. But that isn’t what is inside that house.
Katie sighed. Okay, then what’s in there?
Those are real hellhounds. Demons that look like very large dogs with vicious teeth, red eyes, and parts that would make your grandmother turn over in her grave.
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Katie said aloud, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
“What?” Damian asked.
“Pandora said those aren’t actual dogs,” Katie reiterated. “They are—”
“Hellhounds,” Damian interrupted. “Never actually seen one in person, but I’ve heard some really nasty stories. Interesting. New Jersey doesn’t only have bad television shows, they have dogs that like to eat humans. I knew this place was a fucking armpit.”
“I was always a cat person anyway,” Katie said, sheathing her knives. “Though I’m not jumping on that train, because the next thing I know a demon lion will be chasing me down the street.”
Actually— Pandora began.
I don’t want to hear about it. Keep it to yourself, Katie snapped.
Fine, but if we go to Africa you are arming yourself with a fucking flamethrower, Pandora warned.
Deal, Katie replied. It would be awesome to have one of those right about now.
Katie and Damian looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously pulling out their pistols.
Her face curled into a grimace. Inside—pretty much all over the living room—were the bits and pieces…of a family, they decided, since there were enough body parts to point to multiple people. Two hellhounds were curled up by the fireplace chewing on various body parts, and through a door they could see a third sprawled on the kitchen table, its eyes closed, apparently asleep. The two by the fireplace immediately stood, growling loudly, and dropped the bloody bits to the floor.
Katie ran in and Damian shut the door behind him, both pointing their pistols at the beasts. The first one lunged toward Katie, forcing her to dive to the side. It whimpered as it hit the wall, tearing the cables from the back of the television. It jumped to its feet and growled, narrowing its eyes and focusing in on Katie. She got to her feet and put her hands up.
“There, there, little puppy,” she cooed, putting away her pistol and slowly pulling out her sword. “Be a good doggie and heel.”
The dog barked so loudly the house shook before sprinting toward her at full speed. It leapt into the air and dove for Katie’s head, its teeth shimmering in the light from the window. Katie screamed, slashing her sword through the air and taking the dog’s head clean off its shoulders. The beast immediately evaporated into dust, showering her with its remains. She spat the ashes from her mouth and looked at Damian, who was wrestling the second hound on the floor. He had lost his pistol during the fight, so he couldn’t just shoot it.
“This is no time for games,” Katie said, marching over and kicking the dog in the ribs.
It snapped at her, almost taking off her arm. She pulled her hand back with wide eyes and growled at the beast. She sheathed her sword and grabbed both of her knives, jamming them into the dog’s hairless back. It whined loudly and lifted its legs from Damian’s arms. He quickly pulled a knife and slit the hellhound’s throat, closing his eyes as the beast turned to dust.
“Jesus,” he said, shaking the dust from his body. “Bad-fucking-Fido.”
“Right?” Katie said, reaching down and helping him to his feet.
A moment later they heard a snarling growl behind them and they slowly turned toward the entrance to the kitchen, where the last hellhound was licking its lips and growling at them. It bolted toward them, forcing Katie and Damian to dive to the side. The beast kept going, breaking through the large glass window in the front wall and taking off down the street.
“I think that new Purina formula is really helping Spot grow,” Katie remarked, looking out the window.
It was the Robertsons’ fifth annual barbeque, and they had set everything up just perfectly.
Mrs. Robertson was inside making some Watergate Salad while the guests milled happily around the perfectly manicured lawn. Mr. Robertson stood at the grill wearing his “Best BBQ Dad” apron, spatula in hand.
Kids ran through the yard, giggling and screaming as they chased the family pooch, a chihuahua named Fifi. Mrs. Robertson stepped into the doorway and called all the kids inside to watch their favorite movie. The ten or so adults laughed as the kids bolted in, excited for another rousing viewing of the Disney classic.
“You should get yourself a bigger dog,” one of the guests commented to the host. “Maybe something like a lab, or maybe a German Shepherd.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, actu—”
He dropped the spatula as a huge horribly-disfigured and diseased-looking hound leapt over the six-foot fence around their yard. He scraped up the grass and dirt as he landed, and flung slobber all over the guests. They screamed and backed up as the beast looked right and left, trying to figure out where to go next.
Fifi ran forward and barked loudly at the hound. The hound looked at the other fence, but before leaping over he grabbed Fifi and chomped her in half, leaving the little dog’s body on the grass.
Everyone was silent for a moment after that, but then they started screaming again, and grabbing one another. Mr. Robertson, his mouth hanging open, looked up as two people jumped his fence, landing right next to the half-eaten chihuahua. The woman looked down and grimaced, then glanced at the crowd, who quickly pointed to the adjacent fence. She smiled and nodded and they both took off again, hurtling that fence and disappearing.
The dumbfounded guest standing next to Mr. Robertson began to clap.
“Whew,” he yelled. “That was some freaking show, man. I mean seriously, what are you doing to us here? You got a Marvel comics punk or something going on? Where are the hidden cameras? I bet there’s one on that button on your apron.”
He leaned forward at the button and smiled, waving wildly.
“That was really something,” he said, patting Mr. Robertson on the back. “Hilarious, actually. Really funny. Where’s your real dog? I mean, wow! They really are making those animatronic dogs lifelike now, aren’t they?”
He walked over to the dog’s back end and picked it up, whereupon half its intestines fell to the ground. He laughed and faked a scared face as the rest of the guests grimaced.
Mrs. Robertson walked to the doorway, wiping her hands and smiling, having missed the whole event. She froze, then let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“FIFI, MY PRECIOUS BABY!”
The guest dropped the bloody carcass.
The gray and white cat tiptoed across the privacy fence between the yards.
His tail was high as he sniffed the breeze that blew through the neighborhood, and he opened his mouth to sing the mating song of his people.
Peering out the window of the house next door was a very irritated man in his mid-fifties. He was wearing slippers, and his round belly hung over the top of his shorts.
“Oh Roger, just let it go,” his wife said wearily, pushing her palm against her curlers. “It’s just a cat.”
“It’s the Simmons’ cat again,” he hissed. “How many times do I need to tell them to keep that damn thing in their house? Not only is that wailing horrible to listen to, but he attracts all the other cats in the neighborhood and before we know it there’s dirty cat pornography happening between our houses.”
“It’s just not worth going into it with them for the third time.” His wife sighed. “You know they’re going to keep that cat around.”
“Yeah, well, I can fix this,” he growled, turning and grabbing a shoe.
He slapped the sole of the shoe on his palm as he turned back to the window and put both hands on the frame to open it. However, when he looked outside, he dropped the shoe and slowly backed away from the window.
The hellhound bounded through yards, crashing through tables and just about drowning some people in a pool along the way. He ran toward a tall fence, tensing his muscles to jump it. As he did, he spotted a gray and white cat singing on top and leapt toward it.
He grabbed it in his mouth and chomped the little furball in half, dropping the pieces into the next yard. Up to that point, even though he had crashed through a number of backyards, he had attracted little attention.
He jumped another fence and took off across the street. Katie and Damian, who were following him, were panting from the exhaustion, so they stopped at the edge of the street to catch their breath. Katie looked at Damian and shook her head.
“Hellhounds really…hate…cats,” Damian wheezed.
Katie nodded and they took off again, running through yards, jumping more fences, and untangling plants and bushes from their legs as they went. Katie leapt over another half a cat and shook her head.
“It’s about time those animal control people got off their asses and did a little work around here,” Katie yelled. “Stop leaving this shit for us!”
“Right?” Damian yelled back as they leapt over another fence.
They heard a yelp and looked at each other, then cleared the last brick privacy fence on the block.
When they landed they found the beast with its leg in th
e pool, licking its furless disgusting paw. Katie pulled out her sword and Damian his cross as they backed the snarling beast into the corner of the yard. Katie looked at Damian and nodded, stepping forward with her sword in hand. She looked at the hound.
“Sorry, buddy, it’s time to put you down,” she told the thing as she swung the sword downward and split the dog’s head in half. It turned into a pile of dust.
Katie leaned over and put her hands on her knees as an older woman walked out onto her deck and looked at them like they were crazy.
“My roses!” she cried.
“This is great fertilizer,” Katie yelled back, dropping the handful of dust onto the ground. Damian laughed through his pain.
Ella had been at the base for hours on her own, with no idea when anyone was coming back. She had read almost every memorial plaque on the upstairs wall, and her nerves were on high alert.
Everyone was gone, and there was nothing keeping her there. She wanted to go home; to see her mom, hug her dad, and finally get her life together. She didn’t want to be a demon slayer. She wanted to just be herself. She shook her head and grabbed her jacket as she walked toward the door.
Where are you going? Melneck asked.
I’m out, I’m done, she replied, slamming the door behind her and cutting across the front lawn.
Oh, hell no, he snapped, freezing her where she stood. Not until we have a little talk.
Chapter 21
General Brushwood looked across his desk at Colonel Jehovivich. She shook her head and sighed, putting her cover down on the table. The general was quiet, thinking about the latest news to break across their desk.
“These military teams have got to get their shit together,” the colonel said. “Excuse my language sir. I’m just tired of being in last place.”