Dead Force Rising (2 page)

John stared in utter disbelief at the
next series of images displayed. A
man
who appeared to
be in his early thirties, was strapped to a chair as he hissed and growled at
the two military uniformed Thorndiers nearby. A set of long fangs snapped at
them as he cursed in what John thought might be Russian.
 
Did they truly expect him to believe this
male was a fucking vampire?

“This is
Viktor
Tarasov, a Russian immigrant who migrated here from
Olkhovka
in 1940. He is part of the
first wave of vampires sent here to weaken us,” the General said as several
more photos of the fanged man appeared alongside the first on the board.

John covered his mouth but still a
chuckle escaped. This was ridiculous. Certainly this was a joke perpetrated by
the members of his division, John thought to himself.

“Alright, you honestly expect me to
believe you have some sort of special team trained to hunt vampires? What are
they, the Van Helsing Force?” he asked certain at any minute a camera crew
would pop out to tell John he'd been punked.

The General smiled slightly yet said
nothing. The old man simply regarded him through pale blue eyes before pushing
a small red button on the control panel located on the table in front of him.

The sound of a speaker buzzer echoed
in the quiet room and a strong female voice poured through the room’s speakers.

“Yes, General?”

“Tell Dr. Hough we will be down in a
moment,” Striate told her.

“Yes sir,” the voice answered

Evidently, the
joke
 
wasn't
over, John decided as the
General stood and motioned for him to follow through a door on the right side
of the room which John didn't notice earlier. Outside the conference room was
yet another corridor. Unlike the main hallway, this one contained several
doors. The first door they passed read:
 
Genetics and Biologic Defense Lab. The second was even more curious. The
Specialty Weapons Research and Training Lab, with its windowless double doors,
was
to John’s right.
 
He
wished he could just open one of the doors for a quick peek but the General
continued down the hall toward yet
a another
set of
guards and a very ominous looking red steel door.
 
The words:
Danger!
Authorized Personnel
Only
,
stenciled in black hit
John head on.

“Sergeant, I need you to understand
that anything beyond this point is of a very sensitive nature and we cannot
allow it to leak out to those outside this complex.”

John stopped and pondered the
magnitude of what the General said to him. It was evidently all or nothing from
here. Even if he left this place without accepting the offer yet to come, he
could never speak of this place or anything he’d seen here. Otherwise, he would
be taking a dirt nap.
 
Nodding his head,
John followed the General through the door and stood frozen in awe. Down both
sides of the room were large cells. There thick bars reinforced and covered in what
looked like glass and he could count four running the length of either side,
each with a single occupant. The inhabitant’s captured his attention the most.
They ranged from spitting, growling humans covered in thick hair with gold
colored eyes and a mouth filled with sharp canine looking teeth to a youthful
looking male wearing a pair of jeans and a bloody white tee shirt. Of course,
the pair of fangs the man sported as he threw curses the direction of a white
jacketed worker nearby was the clincher as to why he occupied one of the cells.

“What is this place and what are
these things?” John asked as he watched what appeared to be a woman smile and
run her hands across the glass
in
 
a
seductive invitation.

“They are exactly what they appear to
be: werewolves, vampires, and in the far right corner we have a rare zombie.
This room is a sort of storage area used to house live specimens while Mr.
Wyle, our chief weapons engineer, designs the latest weapons in the fight in our
little paranormal war,” the General replied as he looked into the cell to
John’s right.

“Where did they all come
from
”

“These came right from the streets of
town and they were hard buggers to catch.
Which is where you
come in.
”

“Me? You want me to go catch these
things?” John asked in disbelief, his eyes still staring.

“No, Sergeant. I want you and the
rest of the team I’m putting together to kill them.”

John continued to stare at the things
that surrounded him. How could such things exist and no one know? How did the General
expect him, of all people, to be part of a special team to battle these
abominations?

“How?
You heard the doctor. I’ll be blind
within the next few months.”

“I want you and the other four men to
become what I like to think of as a diluted version of what you see here. The
doctor believes that whatever genetic misfire produced these things will cure
your little eye problem and any other disorders through some sort of
regeneration. Frankly, I don’t understand half that crap and could care less.
The only thing I need to know is my men will be damn near unkillable.” If John
were not standing in the middle of a room filled with creatures and had he not seen
the serious look on the General's face, he would've burst into laughter at the
joke. However, he now knew this was far from some prank. The man wanted him to
volunteer to become one of these things so he could hunt them down and kill
them.

As if he could feel the turmoil
running through John’s brain, the General placed a hand on his shoulder. “I
know this is a lot to take in and process at the moment. Why don’t you take a
day to think about it? That is not a long time but you understand we are
working on a very strict timeline here. You can give me your answer tomorrow,” the
General suggested as they turned and exited the freak show.

Could John really volunteer to become
something like that? Then again, could he spend the rest of his days in
complete darkness?

CHAPTER TWO

John spent part of the night and the next
day sitting on the small park bench outside his quarters thinking. There’d been
a lot of things he planned to do before his diagnosis. Things like buying a
little house in the mountains or on the beach, paying his respects to his
fallen friend's sister who lived just off the base, and perhaps finding a woman
to settle down with. Now all that stuff seemed like an inaccessible dream
regardless of the direction he chose.

Reaching into the front breast pocket
of his jacket, John pulled out two small photographs. The image of himself and
another man looked back at him from the wrinkled paper. Thomas Grant had been
his best friend and the closest thing to a brother John ever had. He could
still see him leaning back on his bunk promising to fix John up with his sister
so the two of them could go down and spend a week on the beach with Tom and his
new wife. It was another unrealized dream because just a few short days
later,
a sniper put a bullet through Grant's skull when they
were out on patrol. John had recently learned that Grant's wife and
one-year-old daughter had moved a few towns away from the base and he arranged
to send them money, small amounts periodically, just to help out.

The second photo was of Thorn Grant,
Thomas’ sister, sitting at her kitchen table. Her long, dark hair was pulled
into a braid which lay over her shoulder, pale blue eyes smiling up at him.
John had been anxious to meet the woman, even going as far as to show her
picture around to the rest of their group and call her his future wife. It
still seemed like only yesterday that the two men were laughing, throwing back
beers and talking about all the things they would do when they were stateside
once again.

What would Thomas have to say about
all this? Would he have jumped at the chance to be part of this unique group or
walked away telling the General to go fuck
himself
?
John thought about it long and hard. His friend would've taken the opportunity
to remain in the military and ensure the security and safety of his family even
if it meant becoming something other than a human.
Other than
a Thorndier.

John weighed the pros and cons
carefully. There were certain perks which came with the job. Not
only
 
would
he be
protecting his country from these monsters but he’d be bumped up five full pay
grades regardless of his rank, get a ten thousand dollar signing bonus and the
highest level security clearance he could attain. The negatives included the
fact that some doctor would be using him like a guinea pig, he would basically
lose his own identity, and there was no end to his enlistment. John would be a
lifer.
A very long lifer.

Stretching and standing up as the sun
began to set in the sky, John made his decision. There was no turning back.
Someone needed to take up the fight against these things and it might as well
be him. Walking back to his small room, he gathered up the few belongings he
would be taking with him to his new life and left the rest. The General had
explained that the unit would reside inside the Nest. It would be their home,
headquarters, and serve every aspect of their lives.

The jeep pulled in front of the
housing compound at a quarter until eight just as
 
scheduled, two guards
 
seated in the front to accompany him back to
the Nest. John rode in silence wondering if the General had assembled the
remaining members of the unit yet or if he was to be the first. Upon their
arrival, he grabbed his duffle while letting out a long sigh and headed down to
the medical lab where the doctor would be waiting. Nervous butterflies bounced
about his stomach yet remained unrevealed in his stone like expression as the
General greeted him with a handshake and a pen. With the papers signed and his
body stripped down to a pair of ash gray pt shorts, John watched as a nurse
strapped him securely onto a steel reinforced cot.

“You should feel a sharp pinch then
heat as I inject the compound,” the doctor told him as he drew a yellowish
liquid into a large syringe. “After that you should simply fall asleep,” he
added as he jabbed the needle into the bend of John’s arm and began pushing the
thick fluid into him.

“FUCK!” John bellowed as the
sensation of fire shot up his arm and into his chest and head. Every muscle
tightened into a Charlie horse type knot and feelings of intense anger and
unreasonable gripped him. “Let me the fuck up, you bastard!”

Jerking his arms hard, he felt the
pop of the metal rings as the restrains gave way. He wanted free of all this.
Forcing the Velcro across his chest to break free, John pulled away from the
table, jumping to the floor with the full intention of destroying anything in
his wake. Never had he felt so angry, felt such a need to cause harm.

He heard the whoosh of the
tranquilizer gun before he realized the dart sunk deep into his thigh and
shoulder, dropping him where he stood. John’s vision began to blur as the medicine
rushed through him. Then his anger dissipated.
 

“Just relax, Sergeant, We have this
all under control. When you wake up it will be all over,” the General’s voice
said as everything went black.

“Is he out?” John heard the doctor
ask, but he was unable to respond.

“Yes, now get on with it. We’ll need
to make certain the restraints are reinforced before we do the others and that
we have more tranquilizers ready for when they all wake up just in case you’re
wrong about them,” the General responded.

Wrong about what? John wondered as he
lost his battle for any level on consciousness and slipped into a medicated
coma.

SIX DAYS LATER…

John opened his eyes slowly, raising
his arm to his face in an attempt to shield them from the bright light. His
headed pounded as if he’d been on a weeklong drunk, the constant thump making
him feel rather nauseated. Finally able to get his bearings, he shielded his
eyes as he looked around. The room he was in
could
easily been any of a hundred in the base housing complex with the exception
that it didn't have a single window. The walls were painted white, the floor
tiled in the same, and a single unshaded light bulb hung from the outlet in the
center of the ceiling. There were speakers mounted in the far corners. Thankfully,
someone had traded the small twin cots usually found in such places for a king
size with a thick mattress.

Sitting up on the edge, he rubbed the
thick growth which covered his chin. How long had he been out? There was still
a slight knot in his thigh where he recalled the tranquilizer dart striking him
but it was small with no hint of the bruise he expected to see. He also noted a
three-inch mark across his chest, just above his heart. It looked like a cut
that was about healed, which confused him. If the doctor made it then it
shouldn’t have healed so much already and he was certain he didn't have it when
he came in.