Specters: A Monster Squad Novel - 8 (11 page)

“Just explain it to him that he needs it. I’m sure he’ll—”

She grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, cutting him off midsentence. “You think I didn’t try? He told me he felt fine. Then he said he was willing to risk whatever consequences, and he took off!”

She heard the front door close and she pushed Derek toward the back door. “What are you doing?”

She lowered her voice to nearly a whisper, “Find him!” She pushed him out the door and shut it.

“What the heck is going on in here?” Crystal stood at the kitchen entrance with her hands on her hips, her eyes boring a hole into Laura.

Laura tried to smile and shrug. “Oh, you know. Dad being dad. He’s taken off into the woods and I sent Derek to get him.”

“He what?” Crystal leaned across the kitchen sink and stared out the window. “Why on earth would he leave the hospital like that, Laura?” She turned an accusing eye on his only daughter. “First he throws everyone out of his room so he can speak to you, then he just takes off? What the hell is going on?”

Laura collapsed into the chair at the breakfast bar and shook her head. “I wish I knew what was going on inside his head, Crystal. I really do. He went from his deathbed to claiming he felt better and wanted to go home.” She shook her head, her eyes unfocused as she stared at nothing. “I told him I wouldn’t take him so he just…left. Took a cab. Left me sitting there.”

“That doesn’t sound like James at all.”

Laura nodded. “Actually it sounds just like him. The old him.” She glanced at Crystal and shook her head, a wan smile crossing her features. “Before mom passed, he used to do stupid shit all the time.”

Crystal swallowed hard and cleared her throat. Laura looked up and started to apologize but simply didn’t have it in her. She sighed heavily and looked away again. Crystal stepped cautiously closer and placed a wary hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll come to his senses.”

“He’d better.” Laura ground her teeth together and glanced out the kitchen window. “It’s not like he has forever.”

“No, honey, he doesn’t.”

*****

“What’s the plan, boss?” Little John studied Spalding as the two unpacked their gear.

“Right now, there is no plan.” Spalding’s voice sounded dejected as he stowed his gear.

John cracked a grin and nudged the smaller man. “You mean to tell me that you aren’t cooking up some great master plan to get us both ass-deep in alligators?”

Spalding shook his head. “Nope.”

John’s features fell as he watched his team leader unpack. “Surely you got some idea what we should do next?”

Spalding paused and leaned across the metal table, the wind blowing out of him as he tried to think. “Sully, the trail went cold. Bigby could be anywhere. He’s literally in the wind. The last time I went off on my own without authorization, I nearly got the whole team killed. We didn’t have the time to plan or…”

“Hey, boss, that wasn’t your fault.”

Spalding turned sad eyes on him and nodded. “Yes, it was. It was entirely my fault.” He tossed his bag aside and leaned against the table. “With the title team leader, not only am I responsible for the team, I’m responsible for my own actions, and this time, my blind anger nearly got my team killed.”

“I don’t see it that way.” John finished unpacking and hung his own ruck up. “The way I see it, you had a hunch, played it out, and we were able to shut down another attacking army before they had the chance to form up against the entire team.” He poked a meaty finger in Spalding’s direction. “The way I see it, you saved a lot of lives.”

Spalding snorted a laugh. “Every cloud has a silver lining, eh?”

“Why not?”

“You’re such a freakin’ optimist.” Spalding pushed off from the table and started toward the elevators. John fell into step behind him.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that your hunch didn’t stop an invading force and I’ll drop it.”

“You’re wrong. It was pure dumb luck.” Spalding hit the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time.

“Yeah, well fine. I hope the next time you have a bout of pure dumb luck that I’m around to see it. Maybe some of it will rub off on me.” He pushed him lightly on the shoulder and Spalding nearly lost his balance.

“Easy there, big guy.” Spalding spun around the landing and started for the next level. “I’m going to grab a quick bite before writing up my reports. Want to join me?”

“Nah, I’m gonna jot the basics down first so I don’t forget the whole ‘pure dumb luck’ part.” He shot him a wink as he headed toward his room. “Wouldn’t want to leave out the important stuff.”

“Smart ass.” John watched him disappear down the stairwell and turned to almost run over Brooke.

“What’s the hurry, bro?”

Little John stared open mouthed for a moment before he finally shook his head and stammered, “Nothing. I mean…I, uh, after-action reports.”

She nodded and glanced around to ensure they were alone. “I wanted to…” she trailed off, finding the lump in her throat hard to talk around.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?” John seemed to grow in stature, his protective nature taking over as he prepared to destroy whatever may have threatened his ‘little’ sister.

She gave him a sad smile and jumped into his arms, her hands wrapping around his neck in a desperate hug. “I’m sorry,” She sobbed through the words as she clung to him.

John dropped to one knee to bring himself to her eye level and wrapped his own arms around her tiny body. “For what, Brooke? What happened?”

“I’m just…so sorry.” She sniffed back tears and buried her face into the shoulder of his uniform.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I know this can’t be easy for you.”

“I mean I’m sorry for leaving you for so long ago. You were so little.” She pulled back and stared at him through swollen eyes. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her arm and shook her head. “And then now, when we finally find each other, I pushed you away.”

He smiled at her warmly, his hand cupping her face. “Hey, kiddo, I understand.”

“Kiddo?” she laughed. “You realize I’m old enough to be your…well, your older sister, right?”

Little John shrugged. “You still look eighteen to me.” He pointed to himself. “Me? Not so much.”

“Oh, my God, don’t I know it. You look so much like Dad.” She ran a hand over his stubbled cheek. “I miss them so much.” He watched her face quiver and a fresh round of tears flooded her cheeks.

“Me too, Brooke. Me too.” He pulled her close and tried not to squeeze too hard. He glanced at the concrete ceiling above them and whispered a silent ‘thank you’ to God for bringing his sister back to him.

*****

Bigby sat in the cheap hotel south of Oklahoma City once more. The small crates stacked on the bed as he went through the familiar task of cleaning and preparing the arms. The thought of returning to the same shops for ammunition didn’t set well with him.

He knew better than to use the free Wi-Fi that came with the room to search for easier ways to make the deadly gas he hoped to create. Such searches had a way of catching the attention of the federal authorities and while he was familiar with creating everything from chlorine gas to homemade explosives using over the counter goods from back home, that was using goods he could readily purchase overseas. He had no idea their equivalent here in the states. The concentration, the amounts he would need, the measurements…it would all be off. Damned Yanks had a propensity for avoiding the metric system like the plague. How hard is it to use a base ten?

He scrubbed at the firearms and concluded that the best he could hope for was one of two options. He could either wing it and pray that he got it right, or he could risk looking it up online and hope to be gone before any powers that be came looking for him.

He stared at the gallon bottle of ammonia and saw the metric conversion at the bottom. How accurate was that? What’s the concentration? Could he look
that
up online and not trigger the NSA? He tossed the carbine aside and glared at the ammonia.

“Does it matter?”

He finally decided that his best WAG (wild assed guess) was better than most anarchists’ best guesses online. He would simply wing it and if it was stronger than he was used to preparing, all the better for it. If it was weaker, the Yanks would just have to die slower. He chuckled to himself as the vision of them suffering a wee bit longer danced in his mind.

“Serves them right, I suppose. Just so long as Jack Thompson is there, I’ll be happy.”

He picked up the next carbine and the towel from the shower. He had a lot of Cosmoline to remove from the stored weapons. He silently cursed the inventor of the nastiness that he was dealing with as he began to strip the weapon. “Soon. Very soon…”

*****

“We must make arrangements with the Legion.” Lilith sat on the edge of the bed, her energy fading.

“We must find you nourishment.” Samael pushed her back and pulled the covers back over her body. “Do you prefer human food or human?”

Lilith waved him off. “Neither. I am fine. I need to address my Legion.”

“To what end? You can barely stand.” Samael crossed his mighty arms and glared at her. “You must regain your strength, then you can lead the Legion.”

“We must reclaim what was taken. If we only strike a small number of the churches, they will prepare for our attacks. It must be simultaneous.”

Samael groaned and slumped his shoulders. “Very well. First we regain your strength, then we shall gather the Legion unto us. Agreed?”

She glared at him from the bed but eventually capitulated. “Agreed.”

He stepped to the door and pushed out into the chill air. He sniffed at the air then took flight. He knew that somewhere in these mountains he could find either a deer or a bear or something large enough to sustain her. He didn’t want to enter the human village and reveal himself. Not yet.

He flew high into the air, his eyes keenly scanning the ground below. He spotted movement in the shadows and reduced his altitude to get a better view. As the potential prey came into view, his heart rose with glee. He spotted the blaze orange of a hunter’s vest as the man scooted between trees.

Samael sailed into a better position, doing his best to keep the man directly below him so as not to give up his own position. When he was certain he could drop in and pluck him from his spot, he folded his wings and dove.

The hunter had sat between the two large pines all morning with nothing in sight. He would bring the high powered rifle to his shoulder and peer through the scope only to lower it again in frustration. Where had all the game gone?

Moments before all went black, he could have sworn he heard the wind swoosh by his ears, but his mind didn’t have time to register the sound before his rifle was plucked from his hands and the world went dark. He feared he actually loosed a scream, but he was lost in the ether before the thought formally formed in his mind.

Samael carried the man by the talons of his feet back down the mountain to the lonely cabin and dropped him unceremoniously on the ground outside the main door. He landed deftly beside the prize and dragged him by the collar into the cabin. “I brought human…” he glanced around the cabin and cursed under his breath.

Lilith was gone.

*****

“Tracker has him right on course,” Jameson leaned back in his chair and reported with a smile. “It won’t be long now and he’ll be spilling his guts to them.”

Ingram wrung his hands nervously. “I still don’t like this. I’d rather them simply not know about our project. Surprise is a much more effective tool than you could imagine.”

Jameson shrugged. “Does the pig going to slaughter have any advantage knowing it’s about to become bacon?” He chuckled at his own joke. “There’s nothing they can do about it anyway.”

“You do realize that they’re military personnel, right? We’re basically declaring war on our own military.”

“Negative, Mr. Ingram. We’re destroying monsters. Monsters that live and breathe and kill and destroy on United States soil.” Jameson poked the top of his desk for emphasis.

“It’s still outside our purview. We have no Constitutional authority to—”

“Don’t you start preaching the Constitution to me, sir!” He was on his feet now, his face turning red. “The framers had no idea of the types of monsters we have to face today. And when I say monsters, I mean actual, honest to God
monsters
.”

“I know what you mean, Director.” Ingram’s voice dropped to a quiet whisper. “Preaching to the choir, remember? I’m just saying that it’s going to look, to an outsider, like we have declared war on our own military.”

Jameson shook his head. “To traitors. That’s all, Ingram. Any man that could allow himself to be turned into…” He shook his head as he paced behind his desk. “They’re traitors to the human race.”

“And what are we?” Ingram stood, his eyes imploring. “We’ve taken good men and turned them into automatons.”

“They’re soldiers!” Jameson pounded his desk. “They still eat and drink and piss and fuck and think!”