Full Moon Rising - 02 (21 page)

“Cut the chatter, and hold these fuckers back until the drone gets here.” Apollo said.

“Drone is three minutes outbound Team Leader.” Laura stated calmly over the coms.

All of the team members knew that in a frenzied attack, three minutes was a lifetime.  At the rate they were burning through ammunition and grenades, they may not last three minutes.  The vampires were swarming the house like ants and what started out as a few turned into a dozen, then two dozen, and quickly turned into fifty, and then more.  Their bullets were riddling the walls, destroying windows and doors and making the house unsafe to be in, but with no place left to go, they had to defend the only structure they had.

Mueller couldn’t fire into the building itself without fear of possibly hitting one of his team mates, but he could pick off those that had jumped to the roof to enter through windows.  Those that arrived late and were milling around the front trying to decide which avenue of attack might be best were also targeted.  He was taking his time, picking his targets and dropping them, knowing that it wasn’t doing a lot of good, but every dead vampire was one less his team would have to eventually deal with when a shadow fell across him.  It wasn’t completely dark out yet, the sun had dropped below the horizon when the monsters rushed to attack and the few vestiges of light that was out gave a fading twilight to the night as the battle waged, but it was just enough light that he noticed the shadow.  Robert rolled to his left, bringing the SCAR up with him and shooting the vampire under the chin.  The gore that exploded from its head painting the side of the water tower and covering his black uniform with blood and bits of brain and debris.

He spit and scraped goo from his eyes.  Glancing as far around the tower as he could, it appeared to be clear.  Robert abandoned his post long enough to set a trip wire with a UV phosphorus grenade then went back to work sniping.  “Team Leader, overwatch.  I was discovered, but dispatched the intru
der.  Back on duty.  Drone is approaching.”  In the every darkening skies he could barely see the white of the predator as it made its approach.  Robert went back to targeting those vampires that had made it to the roof to prevent them from gaining access to the interior of the house.

“Copy that overwatch.” Apollo responded.  “Damn glad you’re okay.  Even more glad that bird finally made it.” The r
elief evident in his voice.

The battle below at the residence continued on and from Robert’s vantage point he could now hear pops like firecrackers.  The team must have run out of ammunition in their carbines and reverted to their sidearms.  Vampire bodies were strewn about the exterior of the house and roof, the drone making a single pass spewing fire, tracers lighting the sky and cutting the r
emaining vampire to ribbons when the team emerged from the front and rear of the house. 

Robert watched Apollo come from the front and Hammer and Popo come from the rear and work their way forward, fi
nishing off any remaining stragglers that may have just been wounded.  A high velocity silver bullet that passed through a non-vital area may allow a vampire to live.  It’s best to shoot them in the head or heart to make sure.  Robert observed the team through his scope when his UV phosphorus grenade went off and a shrieking scream was heard behind him.  He doubled back to find a crispy vampire huddled near the top of the ladder where he had set his tripwire.  For good measure he put a single silver round through its head, then broke down his overwatch site and slid down to the ground.

Mueller approached the team who sat around the remains of Tufo’s house, kicking over the bodies and checking for surv
ivors.  “Fuck.  What a shit storm, eh?”

“All of this to drag us out here?  What for?” Apollo asked.   “I don’t get it.  Was this another fucking test?”

“If it was, it was a lot better than the last one.” Hammer stated.

Popo was looking around the area, a confused expression painted on his features.  “Hey, boss?  Where’s S3?”

Apollo glanced around the carnage.  He counted
four
team members.  “I sent him with Tufo.  He should have been back right after the shit hit the fan…”  Apollo glanced down the street at the third house down.  “Which house was it, Bob?”

“Green roof.  Closed shutters.” He answered.

Apollo smacked Hammer across the chest.  “You’re with me.  You two, stay here, wait for me to call for backup.  Cleanup crew should be on their way.” He said absently, his eyes glued to the house with the green roof. 

Apollo and Hammer took off at a trot.  When they reached the house, the front door had been left open.  They went in with night vision and cleared the house.  They found where Tufo’s wife and daughter had been tied up, their ropes sliced clean through.  They went back out the front and saw what looked like marks in the gravel where someone had left very quickly, thro
wing gravel behind them, but no Dominic.

“Team Leader to Sierra-three, come in.”  Apollo stated over the coms.  He waited impatiently.  After a moment he repeated, “Team Leader to SIERRA THREE, come
in
.” 

“Maybe his coms are down?” Hammer offered.

Apollo gave him a sideways look.  “Even if they were, he’d find a way to let us know his location.”  He keyed his lip mic again, “Team Leader to SIERRA THREE, what’s your 20?”  Again, there was no reply.

Apollo stepped out on to the gravel road.  He tried to put himself in Dom’s shoes. 
I’m in the house, I get Tufo’s wife and daughter free, load them in the Jeep, send them on their way.  I hear the attack begin…look for a good place to fire from!
  Apollo glanced around.  Across from the house was a small outbuilding.  He jogged to it and switched on his Maglight.  In the ankle high grass he found spent shell casings.  He picked one up and held it out to Hammer.  “He came here to fight from.”

Hammer glanced around.  There weren’t many casings.  “Not for long though, boss.  Not many casings.” He observed.

Apollo had to agree.  He looked at the grass and could see where it had been trampled somewhat and followed a bit of a path to the other side where they found more casings.  Then it seemed as though he just fell off the planet.

“What the fuck?” Apollo yelled, throwing the spent casings he picked up back on the ground.  “It’s not like he just sprouted wings and flew off?!”

Hammer looked up at the roof of the shed.  He couldn’t imagine Dom climbing up there, and even if he had, where would he have gone?  There was nothing else around.  “Could he have doubled back?”

Static burst across the ear bud and Apollo touched his mic.  “SIERRA THREE?  Dom, come in!” he yelled.

“Mr. DeGiacomo will not be joining you for the rest of his life.” The voice said slowly and deliberately.  Apollo looked at Hammer, whose eyes widened. 

“Who is this?” Apollo ordered over the coms.

“That is of no importance, suffice to say, I got what I came for.  You may leave now.  Thank you very much.”  And the coms went dead.

Apollo’s jaw ticked and his vision went red with rage.  Hammer’s breath caught in his throat as he realized it had been a trap the entire time, not a test.  The blood suckers wanted one of the Monster Squad, not to see their capability.  “Fucker sounded Nordic, boss.”

“Fucker sounded
dead
if I ever get my hands on him.” Apollo said through gritted teeth.  Slowly, Apollo reached up and keyed his lip mic. “OpCom, we have a problem.”

19

Finally it was dark enough that Damien felt safe to leave the nasty, dusty, smelly warehouses and break out on his own.  He just needed to slip past whatever guards that Foster had put in place, find a vehicle that was worthy of him, eat the driver, steal the car and head back to his father’s estate.

He worked his way toward the front entrances and saw two of Foster’s main enforcers guarding the rollup doors.  They had opened them to allow trucks to enter in and go back out, brin
ging loads of drug addicts, homeless people, prostitutes and illegal aliens promised work into the warehouse to feed the masses then back onto the streets in search of more.  It was no easy task to feed an army these days.

Damien didn’t want to seem too obvious so he raised his chin and squared his shoulders as he approached the guards.  He lived here, he should be able to come and go as he pleased.  As he approached the doors, one of the enforcers stepped in front of him.  “Where are you headed?” he asked.

“To hunt.  Where do you think?” Damien stated, as if it should be obvious.

“The docks are empty and Foster had meals catered in.” the enforcers informed him.

“Seriously?  You call
that
a meal?  Have you
smelled
what they’ve brought in?” Damien gestured toward the homeless and the prostitutes.  “Do you even want to guess what’s swimming in her blood?” he said in a lowered voice.  “Skank on a stick?”  He shook his head.  “I don’t think so.” He tried to move past the enforcer who blocked him again.

“There are plenty of immigrants you can feed from.” He said pointing to the Mexicans huddled at the far end of the war
ehouse still trembling in fear.

“Oh, come on.” Damien whined.  “I don’t want Mexican t
onight.  It gives me gas.”  The enforcer just raised his eyebrows.  “Seriously, you can taste the cumin in their blood!” he gestured wildly.  “They wreak of it…it seeps out of their pores!” he whined. 

“Sorry, pal.  Mr. Foster’s orders.  Nobody leaves the war
ehouse.” The enforcer said.  Damien sighed.

He would try one more angle.  “I just want to hunt a little, ya know?  Go to a bar, pick up a pretty girl with great big…” he gestured with his hands. “A huge…sweater…and take her back to her place and just…come on?!  Give a guy a break.  Please?”  He pleaded.  “What if I bring you back some, too?  What would you like?  A blonde?  Brunette?  Redhead?  Ten year old boy?”

The enforcer gave him a bored look.  “Sorry.  No can do.  Mr. Foster gave explicit orders.  Now, if he comes to me and says, ‘this little peon has special permission to go out and hunt on his own while all the rest of you are on lockdown…’ well!  That would be different.” His condescending tone was more than Damien was willing to accept.

Although he could feel that the enforcer was centuries older than he was and much, much larger, Damien’s pride was wounded and he wouldn’t stand for it.  He doubled his fist and punched the enforcer as hard as he could across his chin.  The enforcer’s head barely moved, but Damien’s fist cracked, his knuckles broken and bleeding and Damien hopped around, hol
ding his hand, screeching.

The enforcer turned and looked at his partner and shrugged then turned back to Damien. Once Damien was through with his display of pain, he turned back to the enforcer, huffing and puf
fing and pushing his chest out.  “Say something, you overstuffed…bag of…” obviously too flustered to think.

The enforcer shrugged and shook his head.  “Ow?  I don’t know what you want me to say, man.  I mean, that looked like it really hurt.  You, I mean.  But, it doesn’t change anything.  You aren’t going out unless Mr. Foster says so.”

“Argh!” Damien yelled as he stomped off in the opposite direction.

“Like that little dufus could pick up a hot chick at a bar? Pfft!” the enforcer said after he left.

Damien skulked around the warehouse.  There had to be another way out.  He checked all of the side doors, but they were alarmed.  He checked windows, but they were locked and alarmed as well.  The only place he couldn’t check were the offices that Paul Foster had turned into his own personal chambers.  There may well be a back way out through there, but with another set of guards at the entrance and Paul inside, it would be impossible to know.

Damien stomped around the interior of the warehouse ge
ttingangrier and angrier.  Finally, he decided to take his anger out on the humans huddled in the pens.  He went entirely past the homeless with their grime and body odors.  He glanced at the prostitutes, but most looked like they were either riddled with disease or strung out on dope.  With a heavy sigh he came to the pen full of immigrants and glanced through them.  Mostly the men were left, but he spied a few younger females hiding in the back.  He motioned for one to come to him and she refused, shaking and crying, crossing herself repeatedly.  He sighed again and jumped over the locked gate so that he could grab the girl.  Immediately the men began to pummel him and he swatted them away as if they were children.

He stormed to the girl and lifted her from the ground with one hand, pulling her close to him.  He smelled her neck and this one, blessedly, didn’t stink of cumin or any of the peppery spices that he abhorred in Latin foods.  He held her back and looked at her.  “Hmm.  Not bad.  A little thin for my tastes.  I prefer my women to have a bit more meat on their bones.” He mumbled.  He held her up with one hand and spun her around.  When she spun back and he was able to see her face, he froze.  This was no meal.  No…this crying, quivering angelic face was not the face of a snack.  No, this was the face of his first and future bride.

A sly smile crossed Damien’s face.  He pulled her close to him and asked her, “Do you speak English, my dear?”

She had turned her gaze from the pale devil, knowing that death would soon come to her.  She was shocked when she heard him speak to her, his voice smooth like silk.  It took her a m
oment to realize that he was actually speaking to her before she answered, “Sí. Poquito.”

“In English, please.” He whispered in her ear.

“A leetle.” She answered.

Damien’s smile stretched further.  His plans had suddenly changed, and to him, the change was all for the better.  “Oh, you and I are going to have such fun together, my dear.”  He placed her over his shoulder and leapt back over the fence, separating her from her family.

*****

Matt and Jack entered the study as Rufus quietly shut the doors.  Both men stood at ease as Thorn made his way behind his French provincial desk and prepared to sit, “Please, gentl
emen, make yourselves comfortable.” He said.  “We have much to discuss.  Forgive me.  Would you care for something first?  Brandy, cognac?” he asked. 

Matt nodded.  “I’d take a scotch, with ice, if you have it.”

Jack shrugged.  “The same is fine.  I’m not choosy.” 

Rufus turned to his liquor cabinet and prepared the drinks.  As he did, he began his story, “Originally, I had hoped to come to an arrangement with you, Colonel.  An agreement, over the attacks your people have made over the years against the Lamia Beastia.  Attacks that were directed towards them by the Lamia Humanus…but now, things have taken a much more serious turn.”  He handed the two men their drinks and returned behind his desk.  He picked up the scrolled parchment.  “An emissary came tonight, of all nights, and brought this.”

“What is it?” Matt asked, thinking the parchment itself looked very old.

“It is a blood order from the Sicarii, conscripting me and all of mine into duty to serve him.” He stated sadly.  “I have my second, Viktor, contacting the rest of the Lamia Beastia now and warning them of the emissaries that are sure to come to them and warning them
not
to break the wax seal on the scroll, lest they be bound to him.”

“I’m not following you.” Matt said.

Rufus sighed and held up the document.  “It is written in an ancient language, but it is readable to all vampires.  It states, basically, that all who have been called, and those who have been sired by him or her are blood bound to answer the call of he who sired all,” Rufus looked up to face the two men, “that is the Sicarii.” Then continued reading, “in order that the great and glorious day of the vampiri shall rise up from the shadows and blah, blah, blah…here we go, Vampiri Armageddon.”  He set the scroll down and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

Matt looked at Jack and shrugged.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Thorn.  I’m still not following what’s going on.”

Thorn looked up at the two men with something akin to shock.  “You do not understand?”

“No.”

“Non.”  Thorn sat on the edge of his desk.  “For centuries it was only rumored that there was a single vampire who fathered the race of vampires, oui?  Do you follow me?” Matt nodded.  “Oui.  This vampire he was thought to be only legend.  But now, he steps out of the shadows and not only does he present himself, but he demands that all vampires be conscripted into his service for the sole purpose of the
fall of mankind
.  In a Vampire Armageddon that will sweep the entire world, he will destroy all that we hold dear, and place himself as supreme leader.”  Thorn sat back letting his words soak in.  “Now do you follow me?”

Matt drained his scotch, not tasting it.  Jack sat there, stunned.  Suddenly his eyes lit up.  “Hey, is this the guy you told me about?  Before… when I was here?” he asked.

“Oui.  It would be him.”  Rufus answered.

“Why did you call him the Sicarii?  I thought you said he was…”

“That is what he is.  He was an assassin before he became a disciple, and he began the Sicarii after he became a vampire.” Thorn answered.  “At least according to the legend.”

“Who are you talking about?” Matt asked.

“The head vampire.”  Jack answered excitedly.  “He’s the father of
all
the vampires.  The very first one.”  He turned to Matt.  “We track this fucker down and shove a stake up his ass or lob a silver nitrate grenade in his…”

“Non!”  Rufus interrupted.  “He is too old and far too po
werful for such things to affect him.  If you shot him with your silver bullets, it would only irritate him.  If you drove a stake into his heart, he would pull it out and kill you with it.”

“There has to be something that would kill this guy.” Matt said.  “Nothing is unkillable.”

Thorn thought for a moment.  “Perhaps sunlight.  I would think that only sunlight could possibly kill him at this point.”

“Hey…” Jack interjected.  “But…if this guy is like, the
originator
of your species and we killed him, wouldn’t that mean that…?”

“Oui.  Every vampire since creation would die along with him.”  Rufus said.  “An acceptable loss to prevent the Apoc
alypse, don’t you think?”

“Works for me.” Matt said.

“Not for me.”  Jack said.  “That’s bullshit!” he stood from his chair and set the untouched glass of scotch on the desk.  “Rufus doesn’t deserve to die just because this Judas is an asshat!”

“Jack, it is an honorable death if it is to help save so many lives.” Rufus said, trying to calm him.

“No, Rufus.  I’m not prepared to lose another friend in this war just because some fucknut thinks he needs to be crowned king of the world.” Jack growled through gritted teeth.

Matt stood and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “First things first.  Let’s find out what his actual plan is and see if we can find a way to neutralize his forces.  If we can do that without taking out this…’fucknut’ then you won’t be risking Mr. Thorn.

“Second, we need to take a look at what kind of forces we have ourselves.”  Matt turned to Rufus.  “How many do you have at your disposal?”

Normally, Rufus wouldn’t give the human hunter that kind of information, but considering the circumstances, he didn’t feel they had much choice
except
to join their forces.  “We have an accord, then?”

“Honestly, sir, I don’t see that there is any other choice.  I’ll be honest, we have 15 operators and maybe 100 support staff.  That’s not a huge number of…”

“But you have the United States military at your disposal if necessary, oui?”

Matt scratched his chin.  “That’s a tough one.  Possibly.  Considering the circumstances, most likely.  But I’m gonna have to do some serious tap dancing with my Oversight Committee.”

Even without, Thorn knew that the hunters were a force to be reckoned with.  “Then we have an accord.” He stated and stuck out his hand.  “Normally we sign such things in blood, but considering the circumstances, I’ll take you at your word.” He said with a smile. 

“Appreciate that.” Matt said shaking his cold hand.  “Now, as for your forces?”

“I’ve recently made another accord that had brought under my power close to one hundred thousand vampires.” He started. 

“One hundred thousand?” Matt said disbelievingly.

“Oui.  But of those, barely half are worthy of taking to battle.  The rest could be used to distract the war machine.”  Thorn stated.  “But then there is the Lamia Beastia.  Of all of the familias, there are perhaps another…” he waved his hand as he ‘felt’ throughout the familia.  “two hundred thousand capable of doing battle, and being quite effective.”