Vampire's Day (Book 1): Epicenter (16 page)

60. Chief 2

A year. That's how much time it took – a year, and another four days. A year and another four days, all for the sake of a few hours.

A year and four days ago was his first day here - he became chef in this little canteen on the small military base. The US Army had much more attractive places for civil servants – here he had a lot of work, didn’t forge a career, the money was not the greatest, and the selection for this place was strict, but he had to get a job here. And he got it.

Of course, he had help; otherwise he would never have passed the selection. A fraudster from Las Vegas helped him, providing expensive and carefully made false documents. Civil servant helped: a few keystrokes recovered his personal business. And the officer helped, who took his false documents. Without their help, Chief couldn’t do anything.

The cover group worked well. The fraudster was stabbed in the parking lot behind the supermarket where he allegedly was supposed to meet a drug dealer, pimp or some other crime business colleague. The civil servant became the victim of a fire, which occurred due to old wiring. Police found both versions convincing, and the autopsy showed nothing unusual. These two were not vampires and never knew for who they worked.

With the officer it was a lot harder. He would not betray his position, bribing him was impossible, so it was decided to do it by radical methods. A slight prick made him a vampire, and then he helped his boss with all possible desire, gaining a new meaning of life in his search for blood. It was a pity to lose such a valuable assistant, but there was no other choice - the newly-born vampire demanded too much blood, depleted the Chief’s reserves, and then the officer began to hunt neighbors in the military town.

They had to work in the old style, and create a car accident with him in a broad river – the lack of autopsy was due to lack of body. The corpse was searched for thoroughly, and all who had spent time with him were under suspicion, Chief too. But the suspicions came to no avail, and he remained in his place. In the end he was just a cook, having no access to anything secret and dangerous. Now he had to wait and prepare.

Chief prepared carefully. He worked hard, making his army canteen the best in the state, and possibly in the whole country. In the canteen was perfect order and cleanliness. The food was perfectly cooked, earning the approval of the military who had not received such delicious lunches before. Often he helped the officers in family celebrations, arranging fine dinners and taking not much money for it. He was a friend to all.

To cook well it was necessary to buy the best products and Chief did it personally, conducting business with several well-proven suppliers. One of them was his messenger, bringing with the best frozen meat the best frozen human blood as well. A courier was his only contact with the main forces. The Internet and mobile communication were virtually nil – Chief knew that the Pentagon would be able to intercept them.

Having spent six months alone, Chief got his first permanent ally. Her name was Amber, and, before meeting with Chief, her life was not particularly good - from an early age she worked as a cheap whore on the highway, spending her earned pennies on drugs and suffering from a variety of sexually transmitted diseases. No one would look for her if she disappeared forever, but Chief wasn’t a serial killer – he was just searching for a reliable assistant, and in Amber found this assistant.

He attacked her in a cheap motel room, giving her a new life and a thirst for blood. Drugs had become unnecessary for Amber, the diseases passing in less than a day. The girl changed dramatically in just a few months: from a worthless, almost washed-up human being she had grown into something strong, brave, intelligent and very dangerous.

Amber was now working together with Chief, first as a cleaner and dishwasher, and then, having learned from the boss, as an assistant cook. There were guys from the base she really liked, and if they paid her attention, she wasn’t averse to flirting.

Day after day, month after month - gradually Chief and his faithful assistant approached the final operation. As an excellent worker and a good conversationalist, always willing to help, Chief learned almost everything about this military base. He learned the life details of officers and their families, carefully studying their personality and making accurate psychological profiles with which he defined who of them should be brought to their side, and who to kill. Amber also listened carefully and perfectly memorized. Officers often longed to talk, so that she learned many interesting things about the base and the people on it. The personnel database, storage scheme, security and communications services, and transportation - they have learned it all. Now it was just a waiting game.

61. Chief 3

“For sale - Volkswagen Beetle 1934 release, requires repair, spare parts are available.”

Chief read this short advertising message, and then closed the message board. He’d got what he wanted. It was not written for a vintage car lover, it is for him personally, since he knew that in 1934 the Beetle had not yet been released. Requires repair meant that it was exactly twelve hours before the operation. Some parts are available revealed to him that everything had already been delivered, they would need no more supplies.

“Amber, wake up. There is ten minutes to pack and go to Joe.”

Joe was his second success here, no less important than Amber. It had taken a while, but the effort was worth it - a specialist in signaling and communication needed to be an ally. Amber found the key to Joe. She learned that he was diagnosed with cancer and didn’t have much time left. A needle prick from an air gun forever finished the tumor and metastasis, so that Chief got not only an experienced specialist, but also a devoted assistant, grateful for the rescue. They had no problem with him: unlike the senior officer, the technician patiently restrained his Hunger, content with tiny real blood injections, and did his job, true to his new oath.

They warned Joe, and then were engaged in acquiring transportation, and delivering everything required to it in several trips. The car was ready - a two-ton truck, not new, but in perfect condition, completely ready for a long journey. They only had one truck, it would be suspicious to have two, so they needed to find additional transport, but Chief was confident that it could be obtained in the town or on the base itself.

The Volkswagen Beetle was sold right on schedule - opening the canteen on a rainy morning, Chief followed the events on television, proudly noting how the panicked messages about LA had gradually increased.

Declared a yellow alert. On arsenal canceled severance and increased security mode, but they don’t wait the war here. It is too far away to the City of Angels, and the arsenal on this base is not effective for such a conflict. So it remained to wait until the changing of the guard, and he listened as officers and soldiers made the most improbable assumptions about what was happening.

If I Didn’t Care

The hissing air pistols are drowned out by Ink Spots’ soft voices. Joe, Amber and Chief shoot perfectly. The duty officers, who took a central table, were an easy target. Only one of them made a move to his holster, but Chief hit him with a small but very powerful stun gun. Done.

“One minute!”

Amber extinguished the light; Joe carefully looked out of the window. The guards were changing in fifty minutes, they had time.

62. Chief 4

The changing of the guard took place without any problems, the same as thousands of times before. The combination locks opened smoothly – even if a man becomes a vampire, fingerprint or retinal patterns don’t change. All formalities have been completed impeccably - handshake, familiar jokes, handing over the keys, memorized phrases, operational checks, signatures and so on. The duty officers hastened to climb out of the bunker, and the new shift took their place, noticing nothing unusual. Nobody paid any attention to changes in their behavior, because there were no visible changes at all – Chief generously quenched their hunger. All the people have gone and now vampires have taken their place.

Amber’s working day was over; she walked out freely since the security on the checkpoint didn’t know anything yet. Nobody knew anything. She left on the bus with the officers who lived in the town. Twenty-five, thirty minutes maximum and she would be driving the car.

It was time to check the posts on the perimeter. Chief carried a PVT form, which, according to the instructions, goes on patrol with a junior officer. The real PVT lay with a shot to the head in a concrete pit at the bottom of the garage. The junior officer was a vampire, so that was fine.

Everything went perfectly – the guards at the checkpoints didn’t expect an attack from a colleague. Only at the gate checkpoint the mortally wounded sergeant press the red button, but the sirens remained silent, and no one heard the signal - Joe had taken care of it in advance.

Two calls came through to his mobile phone, then another one. He didn’t respond, everything was clear - Amber was on the way. Everything was ready for her arrival: there were no living people in the arsenal territory, just vampires.

Eleven pm. On standard challenges from the staff about what was happening at the base, they gave the standard reply - no accidents. Now it was time to start loading. Chief raised the barrier and Amber slowly entered the gate. In the dim light of the lantern he saw new plates on the truck.

“Open the first gate!”

They couldn’t take everything from the arsenal, and Chief knew it - the loading of such weapons required time and accuracy, and there was nowhere to get as many trucks as they required. They took as much as he had planned; almost completely filling Amber’s truck and two Humvees taken from the garage.
Two calls, then three more. The cover group is waiting at the appointed place.

“Wait for fifteen minutes, and then start the truck. Then wait another twenty minutes and start the second Humvee. Drive carefully, no violations. And don’t forget my jukebox!” Chief said, and went out into the base in the first Humvee. He drove through the sleepy town, his old Colt on his lap, but no one thought to stop him. Outside the town, he added a little speed, and turned several times on local roads, until he reached the wide field, where he was met by motorcyclists.

“Chief, sorry, we can’t use aircraft. After the imposition of the emergency state, civil flights were banned until further notice, and we can’t get passed now. They have already shot down several violators.”

“I already know it. We will work from the ground, it’s reliable. Unload!”

63. Mission

Silence. That’s how it usually goes on a real combat mission featuring an experienced crew - almost complete silence in the air. Radio communications with other machines or with the staff were reduced to a minimum, the pilot and navigator talking rarely, only when it was strictly necessary. Calm concentration.

MIG 31BM, No. 399, soared twenty kilometers above the Pacific Ocean. Just above it was the sun, with the boundless horizon in front.

“Lighthouse – Stroller: see the target.”

The loneliness in the sky was only an illusion. Below and far behind the interceptor in the sky hung the huge flying radar A100, continuously rummaging the horizon with phased antenna rays. It was he who first spotted the Boeing, where it was supposed to be. The MIGs operator acquired the target in his sight, and waited.

“What do you think - will we get the order?”

“Sure.”

The pilot, Captain Bagrutdinov, was confident that he would get the order. It doesn’t make him happy, he just knew that it would happen, and he would do his job without any problems. Navigator, Lieutenant Tishchenko, still had a weak hope that everything would be OK and the order wouldn’t happen for some reason.

Maybe airliner wills just break and falling into the ocean. Or any other country will give it fucking Boeing land, may be Japan, China or South Korea. Airliner have fuel for flight in these three countries, to Russia enough fuel too. Boeing's have more fuel and time than they crew, gradually devastating MIG tanks.

As they went into the air, they already knew about what had happened in Honolulu, where the first plane from Los Angeles had landed, just after the alarm started. The message about riots on board appeared later, and they didn’t manage to knock the plane down. It landed and little was known about what happened, except that there was a tank battle at the airport and eventually a pile of corpses. After this, all the aircraft that had taken to the skies from Los Angeles were shot down, over the USA territory. Yankees knocked them down, despite the fact that there were other countries’ citizens on board. No one cared about this fact now.

The last plane that was shot down, almost managed to fly to Honshu, USAF fighters from Okinawa has shot him down, for some reason doesn’t entrusted this business to Japanese allies. The Captain and the Lieutenant saw on the radar how it happened, and swore to their American colleagues that they would knock down the last aircraft, which was heading to Russia. They could shot him down, but didn’t do this, providing to Reds decide this question.

“I wonder if they know?”

“Who knows? Knows what?”

“Boeing’s pilots. Do they know that we are bringing down planes?”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.”

Maybe they really didn’t know anything. Internet and mobile phones were disabled; dispatchers continued to create the illusion that everything was in order. They may not know about it. Although, the plane going to Japan suddenly changed course and sharply dropped height, apparently trying to escape from the attack.

“Lighthouse – Stroller: destroy the target. The pilot filed an SOS signal, there are infected on board. They should not reach the shore.”

“Fire!”

A high range rocket silently fell from the wing.

“Target destroyed, expenditure – one.”

The Captain and Lieutenant became the first crew in their military district that had destroyed an aerial target for the first time in many years. Over the next few months of the war, they earned six victory marks. The final one would be an F15, which would be shot down at maximum range. Whether the pilot was man or vampire remained unknown.