Operation (33 page)

“Yes, sir. In the event we locate the subjects, I would like your permission to set up a platoon for the seizure with the personnel I used on the original op. They’ve had experience in the capture and that may help us.”

“Agreed. I’ll have one of my staff arrange that. Anything else?”

“I also think it would be good to have Lieutenant Colonel Barkley join us here in case we need him. He’s had medical experience that may come in handy if we need it.”

“Already done,” said Morris. “He should be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Reese.

 “One point, Commander,” the general said.

“Sir?”

“You didn’t discuss the other area you thought would be a substantial concern with the subjects: the obtaining of food.”

“We’re monitoring all local police reports for any abnormalities that might occur, such as murders, kidnappings, mysterious animal deaths, etc. If anything happens, we’ll know about it and can investigate it from there. Until then, all we can do is wait and hope we get lucky.”

“Gentleman, that’s it then,” Morris said as he stood. “Good hunting.”

Everyone around the table stood as the general departed. When he was out of the room, the SEAL commanders spoke freely to each other. Reese gathered up his briefing package and prepared to depart; however, he couldn’t help but notice the speculative looks he was receiving. He did not stare back. He understood the reason and it was not meant as any form of disrespect. It was simply the non-operator (he) versus the operators (them); a distinction firmly rooted in custom and tradition which had always been and would be part of the Special Forces. The philosophy of cooperation worked as long as everyone stayed in their own areas of expertise. The commanders began to exit the briefing room and some thanked Reese for the presentation.

“Commander Reese,” a petty officer said, entering into the conference room.

“Yes.”

“A small package arrived for you. We placed it in your office.”

“Package?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks,” he said, wondering who would have sent him anything. It was probably just some more briefing information. “By the way, where is my office?”

“Down the hall, take a left and then a right, room 110.”

“Thanks.”

The petty office looked at Reese’s empty coffee cup. “Excuse me, sir, it’s out.”

“What?”

“The coffee. It’s all out, but a new pot is brewing. Would you like me to bring you some when it’s ready—should be in about 10 minutes?”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it,” Reese said.

Reese went down the hallway making the appropriate turns and found room 110. He entered the office, and as he closed the heavy wooden door, there was a resounding thud. The office was small, but it would suffice. The small window was darkened by shutters, which he hoped would let some natural light in once opened. He hated being in spaces with no windows and stark white florescent lighting. He thought of it as morgue décor. There was a desk, what appeared to be a comfortable chair, a computer, and a telephone, all the necessities of life.

He decided to see if the chair was as comfortable as it looked. He sat and it was better than expected, but the resting position brought some of the exhaustion he felt home. He knew that he was running on caffeine. It was bound to catch up with him at some point so he would have to be careful that his judgment did not become clouded.

His eyes settled upon the mystery package that sat on the desk. Reese picked it up and examined it. It was very light. The outside contained no writing other than his address. He pulled the tab of the box, and discarded it. Inside was a layer of tissue paper that he lifted out.

“Ouch!” he cried. He looked at his finger, instinctively sucking at the blood that oozed from the small wound. As he did so, he caught a tantalizing whiff of a strong and inviting fragrance. Carefully avoiding any more sharp contact, he unwrapped the remaining tissue paper and found a single red rose within.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the perfume-like smell of the flower. The smell brought Christina to mind. There was a small note attached to the stem. He opened it and read: “Thanks for not having me arrested for breaking and entering, Christina.” He smiled, preparing to savor the moment, when abruptly the room went dark.

“What the hell?” he said. He found the wall and fumbled along until he located the doorknob. He opened the door, and stepped out into the hall. 

The hall was not as dark. The emergency lighting was on and illuminated the area just enough to be able to see where to walk. Reese was surprised that the auxiliary generators were not working either. As unnerving as the darkness was, the silence was even more so. There were no voices.

Where the hell was everyone?

“Hello?” he called out. “What’s happening here?”

“In here,” a man’s voice called back.

Reese thought the voice sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it.

“Where?” called Reese.

“The conference room.”

Reese made his way toward the room. He still found it disturbing that there was no other activity but his own. Where was everyone? As that thought crossed his mind, he felt something change—something was making him lightheaded. He briefly closed his eyes to fight the nausea. When he opened them again, he found that he had made it to the conference room. As his eyes focused, he found the source of the voice. General Stone was there as well. And Stone was dead.

Stone’s body lay on the conference table. His arms were spread out as though he was being crucified. There was a large wooden stake driven through his chest. His eyes were open, staring absently at the ceiling above. The dim light swallowed the red of the blood, leaving the illusion of his body floating in a slick of black oil. Reese was surprised that he didn’t smell the coppery tang of the blood. Instead, the fragrance of the rose still dominated his senses. He glanced at it in his hand.

The beauty amidst so much horror—

General Stone’s head turned toward Reese. “Have you read Frankenstein, Reese?” asked Stone, blood and spittle spraying from his lips.

“What? Ah…yes, yes, sir,” Reese answered. “How can you—”

“The creature killed its creator, Reese. First he struck at Dr. Frankenstein’s heart by murdering everyone that he loved. Remember that, because you have played the doctor’s role.” Stone fell silent, his eyes staring at the ceiling.

“That’s bullshit! I didn’t make them murderers—you did!”

Stone did not respond.

“Stone?” 

“John,” a woman’s voice said.

He looked in that direction. He recognized Christina’s voice but he could only see an outline in the dim gray light.

“Christina? You’re here? I can’t see you—can you come closer?” asked Reese.

“No, John. I cannot.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t,” she said.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?” Reese looked away from her and back at the sprawled body. “The general—did you do this?”

“Please don’t ask questions. It doesn’t matter right now. What is important is that you have to help them.”

“Who?” he asked as he looked around. In seconds he saw two small figures huddled together about twelve feet from him. He could make out enough of their features to see that they were young girls. “The girls? What are they doing here?”

“Help them, John,” Christina repeated.

“I’m going to get help,” he said. “Stay here.” Reese began moving toward the door.

“No, John! Don’t leave! There is no one else. It’s up to
you
to save them before it’s too late and—”

“Why me? I didn’t ask for this.”

“Nor did they ask for this!” declared another voice from the darkness.

Reese turned toward the voice, which he also recognized. “Dimitri? How the hell did you get in here?”

“I have always gone where I choose, especially where I am least wanted—such as this facility.”

Out of the darkness, a human shape walked toward Reese. However, unlike Christina and the girls, he could clearly see Dimitri’s features. Reese noted that not only were his human characteristics visible but also the vampire traits as well: the red eyes and the elongated teeth, indicating his disturbed state. Reese’s eyes went to Dimitri’s hand where he held the box that Reese had opened only minutes ago.

Look in the box…

Dimitri shoved the box abruptly into his hands. Reese held the box and the rose in one hand and used the other to reach into the box. He pulled out a collar. One of the collars he had designed for the vampires. Given it’s size, he guessed it was for one of the girls.

 “You have done this!” said Dimitri, snatching the collar from Reese’s hands and shaking it in front of his face.

Reese could see Dimitri’s long and sharp fingernails. They were stained with blood.

“You
did
kill Stone.”

“Believe what you will. You that gave them the technology they needed to capture us and force us into this immortal servitude. Now they do it to children! Is there no end to this madness? All we wish is to be left alone!”

“It was not me,” said Reese. “I knew nothing about the girls.”

“How can you deny it? Are you not the creator of these collars?”

“I am, but I did not decide how they would be used.”

“That does not excuse you from the crime.”

“What do you want of me?” Reese asked. “I tried to help you. I placed myself at risk by letting you escape—”

“You only seek to help yourself,” Dimitri countered. “Your conscience would not allow you to rest if you had not done something.”

“No! That’s not true.” Reese cried.

“Yes. It
is
true. You don’t say it, not even to yourself, but it is there. You want what your humanity will not allow you to have.”

“You son of a bitch, what do you know of humanity? You gave that up when you became a vampire. Love and hate are nothing but words to you—without meaning.”

“You are wrong. Hate? Oh yes, I have hate and anger, as well as sorrow, for what I no longer possess. All I want is peace, but you and your kind can’t let it go. You cannot let the myths and legends die. But I will bring an end to that.”

Dimitri raised one of his hands; the long razor-like nails glistened in the limited light.

“Stop right there!” A woman’s voice screamed.

Both Dimitri and Reese turned toward the voice.

Reese, looked at Christina, watched as she walked toward him, feeling relieved. But as she got closer, he saw it was not Christina, but Samantha who was coming toward them. In her hand she held a gun pointed at them.

“If there is any killing to be done,” said Samantha, “I’ll be the one who does it.” She directed her attention to Dimitri. “Just so you won’t feel left out, this gun is not loaded with ordinary bullets. These bullets have an added chamber, which contains the elixir. Upon impact the elixir is immediately released—quite messy, really.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Reese. “Where’s Christina?”

“You don’t need to worry about her,” Samantha said. “She’s no longer
relevant
to the equation. We have what we want,” she said, pointing toward the other end of the room. In the corner stood Mr. Smith; in his hands, he held the end of a chain that ran to the collars of each of the girls. He nodded to Reese and blew him a kiss.

“Fuck you…you perverted bastard,” Reese said scornfully.

“Play nice now,” Samantha said. “As for you,” she said to Dimitri, “we have plans for you—some unfinished business.” She then turned to Reese. “All that needs to be done now is to tie up some loose ends. You remember when you said that the vampires were dead? You lied. I have no use for liars.”

“So what are you going to do? Kill me?” asked Reese.

“I’m not, but he is,” she said, indicating Dimitri. Her next statement was directed at Dimitri. “Drain him of his blood. Think of it as a consummation of our new friendship.”

“I don’t do your bidding,” said Dimitri defiantly.

“You will, unless you want to see one of the little girls die horribly. My colleague has replaced their collars and we all remember how they work. Mr. Smith…”

Smith produced a small device from his pocket. He depressed a switch and the two girls writhed in pain. He released the button and smiled.

Samantha turned to Dimitri, “Get on with it, I don’t have all day.”

Dimitri took slow steps toward Reese.

“I am not going to die like this,” Reese lunged for Samantha.

The gun fired. Reese felt searing hot pain surge through his chest. In the distance, he thought he heard someone call, “Commander!” His momentum carried him forward. He tried to reach for the gun.

The gun fired again.

“Commander?” the voice screamed, this time it was closer.

“Here…” Reese moaned. “I’m here…”

“There is no one to save you this day, Commander Reese,” Samantha gloated, “the third time is the charm so they say.” She placed the gun to his chest and fired a third time.

*****

Reese opened his eyes and looked around. Daylight filtered through the shutters in his office. There was a knock at the door and he jumped. The knocking sound echoed in the hall making it sound much louder.

Like a gunshot? Had he actually fallen asleep?

“Commander?” the voice called again.

“Come in,” Reese called as he rose from the chair.

The door opened and the petty officer that Reese had spoken with earlier entered. In his hand, he carried a cup of coffee.

“The pot just finished brewing, sir.” The petty officer attempted to hand Reese the cup of coffee, but hesitated. His eyes focused on Reese’s left hand.

“What?” asked Reese.

“Sir, the flower…the rose.”

Reese looked down. His left hand was balled shut, but glimpses of leaves and rose petals showed between his fingers. There was also blood around the fingers, the result of pressing the thorns into his skin.

“Wow,” Reese said, trying to think of something to say in the odd situation. “I guess I don’t like flowers. They should have sent a card.”