American Blood: A Vampire's Story (19 page)

“You see,” the Colonel said to Ryan, “it’s not just us they’re fighting. The Taliban do not always trust the autonomous
tabar’s
and vice versa. Suicide bombings are a common way to settle debts or gain position. If she makes one of their detector’s go off, they won’t ask her any questions first, understand?”

“She won’t need anything other than her clothes,” Ryan said. “It won’t be a problem.”

“How will you stay in contact with her?”

“All I can tell you is she’ll be able to communicate with me whenever she needs to.”

“It’s the craziest mission I’ve ever heard of,” the Colonel said. “She’s just going to walk right into the lion’s den . . . Ma’am, I don’t see how you get through this alive.”

“And what about how she looks,” Sergeant Bob said. “Some of these tribal women are real lookers under those sheets, but none of them are quite like her.”

“Thanks sweetie.”

“Just land us near this compound,” Ryan said. “You have no idea how much you’re underestimating her.”

Calida leaned over and placed her arm around Ryan’s neck.

“Let’s get on with this, Sergeant.”

“Yes Colonel. Now at this meeting between—”

“Jirga.”

“Excuse me, Ma’am?”

“—Meeting’s called a
jirga
.”

“Yes, Ma’am. At the
jirga
, tonight, the
Sardar
and his eldest son, Husaam, will be offering three of his daughters as good will to the
Amir
. You, Ma’am, must infiltrate the group of daughters that the
Amir
will choose from. Of course you must be prepared to speak fluent Pashto if you’re asked anything, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Gotcha,” Calida said.

“Now here’s the one you need to replace.” Sergeant Bob handed a photograph across the ping-pong table to Ryan. “Her name is Amina and she also has a scar . . . .” He handed another photograph to Ryan. “There on her right hand.”

“I’ve seen these,” Calida said, and she now appeared more alert. “I can look just like her . . . even with the scar.”

Ryan leaned close to her. “Hey, not here, not now.”

“I . . . I wasn’t going to.”

The Colonel exchanged glances with the two rangers and looked at Ryan. “Can you bring us into your discussion?”

“Sorry, please continue Sergeant,” Ryan said.

“Okay . . . so you need to take the place of this Amina. All of the daughters who are part of the selection group will be wearing traditional blue
burqas
with a mesh veil and black pants underneath. Don’t show your ankles and no finger or toe polish. Not even a speck. I noticed last night you had pink nail polish on, Ma’am. Make sure you get it all off.”

Calida smiled. “I don’t wear that stuff, Sergeant Bob.”

The Colonel looked directly at Calida. “On page seventeen of your briefing packet there is guidance on how women are treated by these tribal groups.”

“I know how they’re treated,” Calida said.

“Sergeant, explain it to her anyway.”

“Women are denied all privileges within the
tabar
. So play naive if asked anything. Don’t initiate any social contact for any reason . . .  and never speak unless asked by a male. Your role is that of a daughter-slave for the
Sardar
. If you do anything out of character for a woman you will be—at the very least—beaten by the
Sardar
personally or by his order. If that’s all that happens you had a good day.”

“How do these tribal societies even exist today?” Ryan asked. “Shouldn’t the United Nations be doing something about it?”

“These tribes are scattered all over these mountains for the entire length of the border,” the Colonel replied. “We haven’t been able to root out this
Amir
for seven years . . . so how is the UN, for Christ’s sake, going to do anything about women’s rights inside these tribes?”

Ryan felt Calida squeeze his hand and let go. “How does she proceed once she’s chosen?”

“From that point she’s really on her own,” The Colonel replied. “There’s not much we can do to help. If she makes a request for extraction we’ll take into consideration the situation and if we can get her we will.”

“None of us want to see you get hurt or be left behind, Ma’am,” Sergeant Bob said.

“If you can pull this off every soldier in Afghanistan will worship the ground you walk on,” the Colonel added. “This
Amir
is high up our most wanted list.”

“Lady you’ve got a pair,” Squalls said.

The Colonel stared down the young ranger who immediately broke eye contact and looked straight ahead.

“If you are able to prosecute your target it is imperative that you—you communicate?—with us so we can get the proper assets to you for evac,” the Colonel said. “You were instructed before leaving the states that you must provide confirmation in the form of a tissue sample that the target was successfully eliminated.”

“You want a trophy I’ll bring you one.”

“Ma’am, I hope—no, I pray—you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Sergeant Bob said. “These people can spot an outsider just from how you blink.”

“Now do either of you have any questions?”

Ryan looked at Calida who had just fallen asleep. “No, Colonel, we’ll be ready at 1600, so for now just leave us alone.”

C
alida’s condition made a complete turnaround by nightfall. Ryan looked at his watch. They had thirty minutes to finish preparations and get to the helicopter pad situated on the dirt field at the rear of the camp.

He gave the small, portable tracking controller a thorough once over for the third time and pleased with the final checkout he said, “The sensor is giving a strong signal.”

I don’t care.

“But I do.” Ryan looked up from his equipment. “How’s the appearance . . . .”

Calida transformed her face as Ryan looked on.  She held up the photograph of Amina while looking at herself in a small handheld mirror. She didn’t give any sign that the process was painful.

“So you can see yourself in a mirror?”

“If I want to, but I have to think about it. Anything I’m wearing always makes a reflection.” Calida put the mirror down on the cot. “I’m going to do the hand now. Come here and hold it while I make the scar.”

Ryan stepped over to her and took her hand. “Why do you need me to hold it?”

Calida smiled. “No reason.”

“Hey, I can feel your hand getting warm,” Ryan said as he watched her skin form a whitish curved line that was a close approximation of the scar in the photograph.

“That should by fine,” she said. “Now what about my face?”

Ryan intently studied her for several minutes. “This Amina is actually quite pretty. What about the teeth? See that?” Ryan held up the photograph. “She’s got a chip out of her front tooth.”

Calida shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it.”

“You can’t do anything to change how your teeth look?”

“Just the pointy ones.”

“Then try to keep your lips together, I guess.”

Calida picked up the blue
burqa
lying on the cot, carefully rolled it up, and slid her feet into the worn leather sandals that were provided. “What if I’m not selected by the
Amir
?”

“I’ve been thinking about that, too . . . and it worries me.”

“Hmm, maybe there’s hope for you,” Calida said as she walked past him and left the room.

Ryan picked up the small sack with his portable equipment and followed Calida down the hallway and up the stairs. They emerged from the bunker into a clear, freezing night and as they walked out of the crater Colonel Bullick, who wore full camos and a heavy insulated breaker, met them.

“I didn’t even recognize it was you.”

“That’s comforting.”

Ryan came up alongside the Colonel who continued to stare at Calida as she walked past him. “Are you here to wish her luck?”

“It’s going to take more than luck.” The Colonel handed Ryan a semi automatic pistol along with two extra clips. “Just click that little button and she’s ready to fire.”

Ryan felt the guns cold, hard metal in his hand and from somewhere in the distance, the powerful turbines of a helicopter started to wind up. At that moment, the reality of what he was about to do finally crystallized. Ryan, having never fired a gun in his life was about to go on a mission to help a vampire kill the world’s most wanted terrorist. He fought with the internal anxiety that was building up, and when he saw the dark shadow of the Black Hawk sitting in the middle of the field he slowed down. There weren’t any lights, either on the helicopter or anywhere nearby.

The Colonel studied Ryan’s face. “Collision lights would only tell someone with a stinger or RPG where to aim. It’s safer going dark.”

“I like the dark,” Calida turned back and said.

“Yes, Ma’am, now remember you have five minutes to give the pilot confirmation,” Colonel Bullick said. “If it’s not one hundred percent don’t risk everything on a hunch.”

Calida gave the Colonel a revealing smile. “I don’t make hunches . . . keep the pool warm for when I get back.”

“. . . What the devil?” The Colonel’s granite facade momentarily crumbled and he came to a stop. “What in Hell was that?”

“I told you not to underestimate her,” Ryan said. “Just be glad she’s on our side.”

“Is—is she what I think she is?”

“She’s exactly what you think she is.”

“Then Heaven help him.” The Colonel turned his gaze toward the southern night sky where a faint white line of snowcapped mountains could be seen in the soft light of the half-moon. “May heaven help all of you.”

They arrived at the Black Hawk. Sergeant Bob, also wearing native clothes, reached down and helped Calida inside the troop compartment. “Let’s get going, Mister. The pilot wants us in the air.”

Ryan gave the camp a final look and stepped inside the Black Hawk. He was quickly taken to a seat by Squalls and strapped in across from Calida who listened as Sergeant Bob talked in her ear. The helicopter began to shake. With surprising power, the rotors came up to speed and they lifted off.

“I thought this thing was quiet,” Ryan loudly directed toward Squalls.

“No way,” Squalls replied. “The pilot used to fly those big Chinook 47s. His hearing is shot.”

“Can he at least see where he’s going?”

Squalls laughed as the Black Hawk picked up speed and banked hard toward the south.

“AIM towards the Enemy.”

—
Instruction printed on U.S. Rocket Launcher

T
he pilot stayed low over the rising terrain. The Black Hawk made sudden twists as it moved up and down with the rocky foothills below. Calida ignored the machine’s gyrations. She was more concerned about getting blood. She could see and feel that Ryan, although outwardly appearing calm, was troubled inside.

Calida forced the distractions of the helicopter from her mind and reached out until she found the presence of Husaam. Her messengers had multiplied and they now formed a clear beacon that she could immediately find when needed. He was still difficult to understand. His thoughts were in Pashto, mainly, but there had been a drift in the language since she was last in this region five hundred years ago. Now a sense of enjoyment was upon his mind and it took Calida a confused moment to understand that he was eating and would soon take his evening prayers, the
isha’a
. Calida began to penetrate deeper and she felt his growing excitement, yet there was also a brooding apprehension entangled with his thoughts. He would be face to face with the
Amir
tonight, and he must be found worthy since the honor of his father was at stake.

“How much farther?” Calida heard Ryan ask.

Sergeant Bob, who was sitting up against her, rolled his eyes and turned toward the cockpit. “Someone wants an ETA,” he shouted toward the pilot.

Calida could see the pilot shake his head for a moment and say something to the navigator.

Suddenly a loud electronic warning accompanied by a flashing red light from the cockpit’s front panel started.

“What’s that?” Ryan asked.

Sergeant Bob turned and calmly looked at Ryan. “Looks like someone fired a missile at us.”

“A missile!”

“Mister, there’s too many ways to die out here . . . why worry about it?”

The alarm ended just as abruptly as it began and the Black Hawk elevated its nose. It turned sharply to the right as a series of brilliant flares were released.

“What’s that? Another Missile?”

“Flares to trick the heat seeker.” Sergeant Bob leaned toward a window and looked out. After a long moment, he turned away from the window. “Yeah . . . it missed us.”

The navigator looked back. “Sergeant, we just made the other side of Khojack . . . so the clock’s running.”

“Ma’am . . . it’s now your call.”

Calida locked eyes with Ryan. “We go, Sergeant Bob.”

“All right . . . Squalls get our gear situated for egress. I’ll take the SCAR CQC, and since you’re the better shot, you get the long barrel.”

Squalls handed a lethal appearing light brown rifle with a short barrel and night scope to Sergeant Bob who checked its ammo load and strapped on a magazine belt over his
shalwars
.

“Nice gun, it’s pretty.”

“Yes Ma’am, these are SCAR-Hs which fire the 7.62-51mm NATO. Each magazine holds twenty rounds. Squalls there with the long barrel can take out anybody within one thousand yards easy. This one with a shorter barrel is called a CQC, for close quarters combat.”

“How about we avoid any of that?” Ryan ventured.

“We’re at one kilometer,” the navigator informed them.

Sergeant Bob gave Ryan a broad grin just as the Black Hawk suddenly angled upward and began to bleed off its forward momentum. Calida allowed Sergeant Bob to unclick her safety harness. She stood up and made sure the
burqa
was tucked inside the native jacket she was wearing.

“Fifty feet,” the navigator yelled. “We’ll hover at five feet once over these boulders.”

Squalls slid open the doors on both sides of the helicopter. The rush of freezing air blasted into the compartment and the sound of the blades pounding the air made it nearly impossible to talk.

A stab of light caught Calida’s attention. The instant she looked over something flashed through the compartment right between her and Ryan and out the other side.

“RPG!” Sergeant Bob screamed as the compartment filled with the burning odor of propellant.

The Black Hawk performed a tight pirouette. “LZ is hot!” the pilot yelled.

“It’s an abort—abort!” answered the navigator.

Calida looked at Sergeant Bob. “I have to go.”

“No, Ma’am—it’s no good!”

The Black Hawk began to pick up speed and gain altitude.

Calida glanced at Ryan who was holding onto some safety straps to keep his balance. She reached into his mind.

I don’t have a choice.

Calida stepped to the opening. Just as both Ryan and Sergeant Bob reached out to stop her, she jumped.

I
t was a long fall, even for her, and as the ground rushed up Calida brought her arms in close. She landed on her feet and allowed her momentum to carry her into a violent series of forward rolls. She lithely popped up and into a hard run. A line of tracers reached out toward her which she easily out maneuvered by springing up a large boulder and coming down the other side for a soft landing. She heard two men exchange excited words in Pashto.

The Black Hawk moved off to the west and was in a hard bank a half mile away. Two brilliant white points shot out from its stubby side pods and Calida followed their path as they came to a sudden booming intersection with the mountainside. A rain of small rocks came down for a few seconds. Calida pressed herself against the boulder and reached out to him.

The Black Hawk turned sharply and made a rapid dive behind a spur along the west side of the mountain. Calida moved away from the boulder and with the grace of a leopard made her way up the rocky terrain until she was near where the Black Hawk’s missiles had struck. She ignored the strong odor of spent high explosives and continued forward into a large dissipating dust cloud. She stepped on something and looked down. It was a detached leg, still twitching.

She stepped over it and came to a man lying on his side. The leg wasn’t his, although it didn’t really matter. Calida bent down and turned him over. He was barely conscious and both hands were gone. And what remained of his left eye had run down his face. The remaining eye turned wildly in its socket and stopped as it focused on her. He was chanting something, but it was barely a whisper. Calida lifted his head and shoulders up towards her.

“
Allahu akbar . . . Allahu akbar . . . .”

“Time for you to see if this is true.” Calida placed her hand over his remaining eye, extended her fangs, and fed.

“G
od damn it!” Sergeant Bob sprang to the other side of the troop compartment.

“Why did she jump?” Squalls joined him. They both scanned the ground below and behind the Black Hawk.

“Who the Hell knows, but she’s fucking dead, she has to be.”

Ryan’s mind raced to assimilate the information overload. The right side of his face had been seared by the RPG’s hot exhaust as it flashed past his face. His vision still danced with swirling spots of white and blue from the dazzling flare as it streaked by. The nearly successful attack and Calida jumping out of the helicopter, had all happened within seconds. There was nothing he could have done.

The Black Hawk continued to accelerate away from the landing site. The twin turbo shafts screaming as they were forced into full military power.

Ryan blinked the dazzle from his eyes. “We have to go back.”

“Go back for what, Mister?” Sergeant Bob slid the door on the Black Hawk’s starboard side closed. “She’s dead—we were at seventy feet when she jumped. Nobody could survive it.”

“You don’t know that.” Ryan stepped forward until his face was inches from Sergeant Bob. “You don’t know her.”

“Mister, you better sit your ass down before I give you a little nap.”

“We have to go.”

I am unharmed.

Ryan took a hard breath and reached forward grabbing Sergeant Bob with both hands. “She’s alive, it’s that simple.”

“Mister, you need to take your hands off me.”

“You’re an Army Ranger?” Ryan shoved him backward and let go. “Right now a woman has more guts than anything I’ve seen from you.”

The Black Hawk heeled over to the left and two bright flashes shot away from a large pod attached to the aircraft’s side.

The navigator looked back toward them and shouted, “You’ve got thirty seconds to decide, Sergeant.”

“I’m telling you, she’s alive.”

Sergeant Bob looked over at Squalls. “What do you think Corporal?”

“You know me Sergeant; I let you do the thinking for me.”

“You have nothing else to say?”

“Maybe we should find out if she’s okay.”

“It has to be now, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Bob stared at Ryan then broke away and turned toward the navigator. “Get us on the ground.”

Ryan grabbed onto the safety straps that hung down from a metal beam over their heads. The Black Hawk rapidly descended and again performed the pitch up maneuver to scrub speed.  Squalls opened the door and tossed out a bag of gear. Ryan picked up his own bag, stepped over to the opening, and jumped out into a cyclone of billowing snow produced by the rotors. The two rangers quickly followed him and with their heads down, they scrambled away from the hovering Black Hawk.

Ryan gave a quick glance back and could see the navigator slide the door closed as the pilot pushed the turbines to full power. The dark shadow of the Night Stalker clawed away into the night.

“Let’s move out.” Sergeant Bob released the safety on his rifle and adjusted his night vision goggles. “We’re about a kilometer from the original LZ, which is up there to the right of that buttress. So that’s where we go and see if you’re right.”

Sergeant Bob led them up along a treacherous slope of loose rocks mixed with snow. It was impossible to step anywhere without dislodging a small avalanche of ice and smaller stones. After ten minutes of this Ryan was out of breath.

“Mister, we’re already about two kilometers above sea level. It’s not going to get any easier.”

“—Not complaining.”

“No, but anyone within a mile can hear you sucking air, do you understand?”

Ryan’s lungs were burning from a combination of the low available oxygen and freezing cold air. He wrapped a strip of fabric that hung from his black turban around his mouth to help warm the air and quiet his breathing.

However, the Sergeant was right. It only got harder and Ryan struggled to keep up with the two rangers. His hands were bleeding from repeatedly catching himself on the loose stones and sharp rocks hidden just beneath a coating of snow that had a thin, icy crust. The blood mixed with dirt and formed a slippery grit between his fingers. He stopped and searched in his bag and found a pair of gloves. He put them on and started after the two rangers who had paused farther up the slope. Ryan caught up and the three men continued on to the top of the ridge.

Sergeant Bob studied an area slightly below them on the other side of the ridge. “That’s the LZ . . . that white patch where the boulder field ends. When she jumped we were right over the boulders and gaining altitude.” He took off his night goggles and looked at Ryan. “Doesn’t look good Mister.”

“Just call me Ryan.”

Sergeant Bob lowered his rifle and put out his right hand. “Nice to meet you, Ryan. Now get that pistol of yours out. If we start taking fire don’t hesitate to pull the trigger. You probably won’t get a second chance. These people usually travel in pairs up in these mountains, but sometimes there’s even more. Figure they have a cave nearby.”

“Didn’t the missiles get them?”

“Won’t know until we get up to the site. Pilot had a quick look at the target on his FLIR, but the 70 millimeter FFAR’s are unguided rockets, just point and shoot. At worst the rockets got their attention.”

“C’mon, Sergeant, we’re exposed up here.”

“Right, Squalls . . . let’s get down into those boulders and see if there’s any sign of her.”

Ryan took out his pistol and followed the rangers down a short, steep incline that led to a level area where dozens of boulders, shaken free by the regions restless seismic activity, had come to rest. The field was about a hundred meters long and at its southern end fell away into a deep ravine that led to a narrow valley several thousand feet below them.

“Let’s separate and move through the field.” Sergeant Bob looked at Ryan. “Make sure you ID your targets before you shoot. We’ll meet up on the other side of the field. If you don’t see us just keep your head down and we’ll get to you, eventually.”

“Here, take this.” Squalls fished into a pocket and handed Ryan several sticks of what looked like gum. “They have a stimulant which will keep you frosty.”

“That’s right,” Sergeant Bob said. “But only chew one at a time. You over do it and you’ll get paranoid real fast.”

“Do you guys ever do anything that’s not dangerous?”

The two rangers smiled at each other and started into the boulders. Ryan took his own route and slowly snaked his way through. A glint of metal caught his eye and when he prodded it with his foot, he discovered it was only a bent up tin can. After twenty minutes, he reached the other side of the boulders and looked around for the two rangers.

He was grabbed from behind. “Found where she came down.” Sergeant Bob let go. “But no body . . . I’m starting to think you’re right.”

“What do we do now?”

“Up there, about fifty meters, that’s where the RPG came from.” Sergeant Bob pointed at a small, dark hollow in the mountainside right below the mountain’s peak. “Squalls is doing a recon over to the left, he’s almost there.”

“It’s a perfect place to shoot from.”

“Yeah, we got lucky . . . never seen an RPG pass through like that. Hell of a story.” Sergeant Bob studied the mountainside with his goggles. “Yep, there’s the flash. Looks like he’s secured the site, so let’s go join him.”

Ryan had almost caught his breath. He started forward and made his way up the slope. They came to a narrow pathway to the right of the hollow that led to a flat space between a margin of twisted granite and a vertical rock face.