C.O.T.V.H. (Book 2): Judgment (25 page)

Jake ignored him.  He had to do something to diffuse the situation before Chef completely turned and literally ripped Turner in half. 
Then again . . . it might not be a bad idea . . . No, I can’t let that happen.
“Mr. Turner please.  Just let him go.”  He stepped up to him.  John grabbed at his shoulder but Jake shrugged it off.  “It was my idea to go out.  I’m the one that set everything up.”

Turner glared daggers at Jake, but released his hold on Buck’s hair.  “That true Buck?”

Buck looked from his dad to Jake and back again.  Jake gave him the tinniest of nods letting him know it was okay.  “Yeah . . .” he said, lowering his head.  “It was all Jake’s idea.”

“That’s a lie!” Donnie’s voice said loudly.  He stepped beside Jake thrusting his hands in his pockets.  “Jake’s just covering for me.  The whole thing was my idea.”

The tinniest smile climbed to John’s face, which he quickly hid behind a guise of anger.  “Alright guys, go get some sleep.  We’ll deal with this in the morning,” he said, scratching at his head.  “Someone better go call the Instructors off the perimeter, tell them the kids are fine, and to come in and get some sleep.”

Turner grabbed hold of Bucks collar.  “I’m going to teach my boy a thing or two first.”

John sighed and shook his head.  Ben took six fast-paced steps forward and punched Turner in the face knocking him out cold.  His body hit the gravel drive and slid six inches before coming to a stop.

“Daaaaamn!” Donnie cried out in shock.  Jake’s jaw dropped.  Buck stood there dumbstruck.  He’d just seen a man half his father’s size knock him out cold with one punch.

“Ben, come on man.”  John lowered his head.  “You know he’s just going to kick the shit out of you once he wakes up.”

“Yeah, well . . . it was either that or let Chef rip him to pieces,” Ben said, shaking his hurt hand.

“Indeed,” Mr. Orwell said seriously.  “Jacob, I will have words with you all in the morning.  For now, I must go and calm down my boys.”

The hair receded into Chef’s hands and arms.  He walked over and placed a hand on Buck’s shoulder then looked at the spot where Turner had hit him.

“I’m okay, Chef,” Buck comforted him.  “Really.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Orwell,” Jake called after the older man as he disappeared back into the darkness.  Chef soon followed.

“Mr. Morris that was awesome!” Donnie exclaimed.

“You guys figure this out.  I’m going to bed.”  John turned and walked away.  “I had a nice hotel room in town with a king size bed.  Now I’m stuck sleeping on a damn cot.  Jake . . .” he trailed off.

“Remember the ’57 Chevy, Dad?”  Jake said without thinking.  “Buffalo Springs Lake?”

For the briefest of seconds, a real anger crossed John’s face. 
Yeah that was stupid.
  Jake said lowering his eyes.

“I’m tired; I only got in a couple of hours ago.  I’m going to bed,” John sighed.  “We will talk in the morning.”

“Hey Dad!” Jake said.  “I’m sorry but there’s one more thing.”

“What is it?”  He sighed.

“You know a Charlie Hammond?”

“Yeah . . .” John said uncertainly.

“He’s going to need to be bailed out of jail.  You know, whenever you get around to it.”

“I don’t even want to know,” John shook his head.  “Alright, first thing in the morning.  Charlie can sit for one night.”

“Come on Buck,” Ben said, grabbing one of Wes Turner’s arms.  “Help me get him to a bed.”

Buck turned and puked his guts out all over the side of Donnie’s truck.  “Ah come on man!” Donnie screamed out as the vomit dripped down his fender and onto his tire.  “Dammit Buck.” 

Ben sighed.  “Never mind, Jake give me a hand would you?  Donnie, get Buck to his bunk.”

“Yes sir.”  Jake nodded.

Together they hefted Wes Turner through the house and into a spare bedroom.  He moaned loudly as they dropped him onto the bed.  “Ben?” Jake whispered.

“Yeah, Jake?”

“What’s up with Mr. Turner?  Why’s he always so hard on Buck?”

“Because he’s an asshole,” Ben answered then turned and walked out of the room.  “Go get some sleep.  You’re going to need it when Ortega finds out about this.”

Jake glanced down at his watch to see it was now nearly five A.M.  The sun would be up soon.  He peeked in at Diana who was being looked over by Lt. Smart and Sandra.  Sandra gave him an angry look before slamming the door. 
Damn, that was harsh.  I knew we shouldn't have gone out tonight.

Leaving the house Jake took his time walking across the yard back to their cabin.  All the lights were on.  Inside Donnie lay across his bunk his hand across his bandaged fore head, Buck snored loudly from his bunk. Chris still dressed in his bloodied clothes sat with a bag of frozen peas on his face.

“Heck of a night huh?” he agreed, as Jake sat down across from him.

“Heck of night,” Jake said, pulling his shoes off.  Walking across the room, he flipped off the lights.  “Goodnight Chris.” Jake stripped out of his clothes and climbed under his blanket. 

“Hey Jake?”

“Yeah?”  Jake rubbed at his temples with his fingers.

“Thanks.  If you guys hadn’t showed up, I probably would have gotten my ass kicked.”

Jake chuckled.  “You did get your ass kicked.”

“Yeah still . . . thanks.”

“You’re welcome Chris.  Better get some sleep.  The Instructors won’t be too happy with us in the morning.”

“Good night Jake.”

His eye hurt like hell.  He knew he should probably get some ice, but he was just too tired.  It wouldn’t be his first black eye, and probably wouldn’t be his last.  His last thought as he fell asleep was of Amber’s body pressed up against his as they danced.  Buck passed gas loudly ruining the image.  Rolling over with a sigh, he fell asleep.  Twenty minutes later, he heard the familiar sound of Drill Sergeant Ortega’s boots on the hardwood floor.  Gritting his teeth, he prepared to be yanked out of bed.  El Diablo didn’t disappoint.

Chapter 10

Jake

Twister, Oklahoma

July 19, 2001

5:15pm

Their night of fun cost the recruits far more than any of them could have imagined.  Hernandez threatened to cancel the program altogether.  It was only with the begging and pleading of Billy and John and much apologizing by every single recruit that he merely increased their training to five more months and upped the intensity of the program.  Everyday Jake fell asleep at 7pm his body sore and utterly exhausted. 

Two weeks before their scheduled graduation, an opportunity presented itself for Castle to show how effective his training program truly was.

It was shaping up to be the largest hunt anyone had ever seen.  A new President was in office and like his predecessor, he was prepared to fight the good fight or at least appear to.  So the government’s team had been put into action for the first time since 1998.  Their first planned assault involved the combined forces of The Coalition with the U.S. VET (Vampire Extermination Team) ironically named because almost all of its members were classified ‘retired’ military. 

They were raiding the largest den ever discovered on American soil - an old Tuberculosis Sanitarium with thousands upon thousands of square feet and a labyrinth of tunnels crisscrossing its basements, for vampires to hide in.  Over six thousand bodies, all victims of that terrible disease, had been transported through those tunnels.  Today they provided the perfect cover for creatures that couldn't walk in the sunlight.

There would be sixty hunters going into that building, accompanied by over fifty 'retired' Marines, Navy Seals, Army, and Special Forces.  Leading the assault was none other than The Judge himself.

The Hunters met up at an upscale hotel called the Cattleman's Inn, in a medium sized town named Twister, Oklahoma.  For the Operation, Secretary Hernandez had rented out the entire hotel. 

Col. Judge used the large conference room for their briefings.  In the middle of the room sat a large rectangular table with the heads of the largest teams.  The room was packed to capacity by many more, including Jake and the other recruits that stood pressed against the walls behind them.  Aerial surveillance photos and building diagrams of the Sanitarium littered the middle of the table.

Sergeant Major Castle was leading the meeting.  "Our best estimate is that there are at least fifty, possibly up to sixty vampires currently residing inside.  As you can see from the building plans, there are numerous entry points.  Colonel," he said, taking a seat and giving Colonel Frank Judge the floor.

Col. Judge stood up straightening his fatigues.  His head was shaved clean with two long scars running across it from front to back.  A black patch covered his left eye.  To add to his already intimidating exterior he wore more guns than Jake had ever seen on any two people.  On his right hip sat .45 Colt M1911.  On his left, set for a cross draw was an ivory handled Colt .45 peacemaker which rumor had it had been a gift from Major General George S. Patton IV, son of the famous World War II general.  In his shoulder holsters sat matching Smith and Wesson .357 revolvers and strapped to his back on his right shoulder was a double barrel sawed off shotgun.  And those were only the guns the group could see.  He was the only person at the meeting that was armed. 

Most startling of all was his left arm.  It was gone at the elbow and had been replaced with a prosthetic that rumor had it hid a sharpened steel spike.  Jake had to admit the man was beyond intimidating and he truly felt sorry for any vampire that crossed his path.

In a very raspy voice, he spoke up. "This is the real deal, folks.  The biggest goddamn nest we've ever seen.  We need all hands on deck for this little foray into hell. "

"Colonel, where exactly did this information come from?” Billy asked, leaning forward in his chair.  “Ben has been combing police reports all over the country and we've never had a single vampire related disappearance within a hundred miles of this place."

"That information would be classified,” Judge answered.

"So you just expect us to charge in there guns blazing not even knowing where you got your information?"  John, who stood directly behind Billy, crossed his arms.  “Come on Judge, you've got to give us more than that."

"What do you expect John, it's the U.S. government," Cort said, from his chair next to Billy, eliciting chuckles from half a dozen other hunters.

Castle stood up his face growing red.  "The same government that's been supplying you with ammo and weapons?  That's been lining your pockets with taxpayer dollars?  That’s been training your kids?  Show a little respect Bishop."

Don’t do it Grandpa. 
Jake cringed. 
Please don’t make a scene
.

But Cort Bishop wouldn’t be intimidated by anyone.
 
“Listen,
pal
,” Cort said, spitting tobacco juice into his white plastic cup.  “You might frighten these young boys and girls.  But you ain’t shit but a government man to me.  And I don’t trust government men.  So tell me where you got the information or my boys and I will walk.”

The Judge gave a chuckle and placed a hand on Castle’s shoulder.  “Damn it Bishop, you aren’t ever going to change.  Sergeant Major Castle is right.  We’ve dished out a lot of money to you all over the past few years, and it’s time to earn your keep.  I’m not giving you the information and that’s the bottom line.”

“Where does Hernandez sit on this?” Ben Morris asked from his place next to John.

Derek Carson, who sat quietly against the wall taking notes answered.  “I speak for Secretary Hernandez and I can tell you first hand that he supports the Colonel’s judgment one hundred percent.  If he says you don’t need to know, then that’s how it stands.  I’m sorry Ben, that’s just how it is.”

Cort stared back at the Judge, and then started to rise.  Billy Williams put a large hand on his shoulder shaking his head.  “Let’s at least hear them out.” 

Reluctantly Cort sat back in his chair. “The more things change, the more they stay the same, eh boys?” 

Most of the Hunters sitting around the table murmured their agreement.  All but Wes Turner.  His face was scrunched up in an evil scowl.  "Hey pal,” he said, addressing Judge.  “I earned every single dime of that money by doing what I do best, killing vampires.  And for your information, my family was doing it long before any of you got involved.  While your superiors were dicking around in wars that didn’t have shit to do with us, my dad died killing vamps,” he said, giving Cort a hard look.  “You want to talk about
respect
Castle?  Okay, let’s talk numbers?  How many vampires have your men killed compared to ours?  It's at least a six to one ratio and we're not out cruising the country in helicopters and Humvees.  We made do with the tools we had before you all came along.  We can sure as hell do it again."

Loud arguments started around the table between soldiers and Hunters.  The Judge beat the table hard with his prosthetic hand as if it were his own personal gavel.  The room instantly quieted.  "We don’t need you here, Turner.  The only reason you’re here at all is because Williams vouched for you.  I don’t trust you, and I don’t trust your pathetic group of wannabe bikers.  So unless you’ve got anything constructive to add to this briefing, I’m going to continue my meeting.  If you don’t like that, don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out." 

Turner crossed his arms and stared back at him.

“Can you at least tell us if we’re dealing with grunts or Makers?” Ben asked.

"Makers."  Castle answered

“Sweet Jesus.”  Mike Holloway said from his seat at the table.  “Fifty or more Makers in one confined space.  That means at least twice that many grunts.  That’s one tall order, Judge.”

"Is your team not up to the job, Holloway?"  Judge asked. 

"What other option do we have?  Sit back and let Williams and his
little
Coalition
take all the credit?  No way, we'd never live that down," he said, with a dry chuckle.