Full Moon Rising - 02 (13 page)

Foster continued to search the document, searching for the trickery, but so help him, he couldn’t find it.  It appeared to be a standard blood alliance, to be dissolved upon common agre
ement or upon the vanquishing of the common threat to mankind, whichever comes first.

“Hmm.  So the bastard didn’t pull any dirty tricks.”

“Non.  The bastard did not.”  Thorn stated from behind him.

Foster turned quickly and regretted it as his head pounded with the vampire equivalent of a hangover.

“I invite you to my home, provide you with your favorite nectar, enter into a blood alliance and still you suspect trickery and resort to name calling?”

Paul lowered his eyes and actually bowed to Thorn.  “Please, Monsieur Thorn.  Forgive the impertinence of a fool.”  He sighed.  “I came here fully expecting my death at your hands and found you to be the same gentleman and gracious host you were centuries ago.”

“Indeed.”  Rufus did not believe this newfound grace for a moment.

“My sincerest apologies.” Foster said.  He turned to the copy of the blood alliance on the table.  “I take that this is my copy?”

“Oui.”  Thorn made no move to hand it to him.

“Then I’ll take this and remove myself from your home.”  He said, rolling the parchment into a scroll.  He secured it with the satin ribbon lying next to the inkwell on the table.  “Upon signing the document, I’m sure my people became aware of the shift in power?”

“Oui.  It should have been immediate.”  Thorn finally stepped forward and entered the study fully.  “But in case there are any…doubts, feel free to inform them of who their
temporary
master is.”

“Of course.”  Foster inhaled deeply. “I’m assuming I have time to make it back to the coast before sunrise?”

“Oui.  It is still the wee hours of morning.”

“Then, by your leave, sir?”

“Of course.”  Thorn said, dismissing Paul as he would a servant.  “I will be in touch.”

“Thank you, Monsieur.”  Foster stepped outside of the study and found his escort waiting for him to take him back to the small craft at the pier.  Although the blood alliance seemed pe
rfectly in order, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had signed his death warrant when he signed that document.

Thorn took his favorite chair in his study and unrolled his own copy of the blood alliance. A word-for-word copy of the document that Foster had, he looked it over and smiled to hi
mself.  He particularly liked the end clause… ‘to be dissolved upon common agreement or upon the vanquishing of the common threat to mankind, whichever comes first’.  Thorn rolled his parchment back up and kicked his feet up on the desk.  “Common threat to
man
kind…  I fear the Lamia Humanus may have just signed off on their own death warrant.” He said with a smile.  “Goat sucker, indeed.” He laughed.

12

“Mobile, Team Leader, any activity with the eye in the sky, over?”  Spalding asked.

“Negative, Team Leader.  We’ve run the grid twice and so far, we have zero tangos, over.”  Jackson called back.

“Copy that.  We have a bunch of pissed off civilians and some minor damage to the town, but so far, we haven’t picked up a sign of any more tangos. Over.”

“Copy that.  We’re withdrawing the drone and shutting it down.  Cleanup crews should be about done.  Continue cover until completion.  We have an Apache and an HH-60 standing by a half click to your south. Over”

“Roger that.  Ground transport en route for the cleanup crews?”

“Affirmative, Team Leader.  Should have two contract trucks out of Fort Ord showing up within three-zero minutes.”

“Copy that.  Thanks again, Jackson.”

“No problem, Spanky.  Keep your chin up, buddy.  OpCom is looking over everything.  If there’s an answer to be had, she’ll find it.”

“Roger that.”  Darren clicked off from the C-130 that had been circling their area most of the night.  It still amazed him how those things could circle one area and not run out of fuel.  “Sanchez, secure your station.”

“Copy that.” She responded and began breaking down her over watch station.  It wouldn’t be too much longer and daylight would peak to their east.  Usually the cleanup crews would leave the vamp bodies to the sun.  Nothing but ash would be left, but this time, they sifted through everything.  Things weren’t adding up and even the cleanup crews felt the tension.

Sanchez jogged up to the four man team standing around the town square.  “What’s up, boss?”

“We’re calling it secure.”  Spalding said.  “We’re to finish providing security for the cleanup guys until they’re done.”

“Okay.  So what’s with the creepy feeling that this ain’t over?” she said.

“You, too?”  Spalding kept looking to the horizon.  He sighed.  “I just can’t shake it.”

Hank was staring in the opposite direction to the west.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear we were being watched.”

“Tested is more like it.” TD added.

“Okay.  So say we are.  What for?” Marshall asked.  “What’s the end game?”

“Test our tactics?  Time our responses?”  Spalding said.  “I don’t know.  But Jackson had the satellite data and Laura went over it like three times.  There is nothing else out there but wil
dlife.”

“Nothing that a satellite can see.” TD noted.

“True.” Spalding said.  He looked around again.  “We don’t need all of us to babysit the cleanup crew.  He turned to Hank.  “Feel like taking a walk in the woods?”

The Padre stared into the woods and along a rocky ridgeline.  Something caught his eye, but he kept turning his head.  His eyes, however locked on to a rock outcropping, a darkness under it that could conceal a cave or other hidey hole.  “Yeah.  I think I need some fresh air.”

As Hank started to take off, Maria grabbed him by the pack, “Hey!”  She spun him around to face her.  “Please, Padre.  Be careful out there.  Don’t take any unnecessary chances, okay?”  For the second time in her life, Sanchez saw a smile cross his face.  Then he turned and jogged to the edge of town.

“Alright you apes.  Let’s babysit the cleanup crew.” Spanky said.

“Yay.  Millions of dollars in training and augmentation protocols and we get to babysit janitors.  This is what I live for.” TD muttered.

*****

The cleanup crew in Mexico had lowered themselves into the ravine and investigated the zombies that Apollo and his team had put down.  Not only were they all barefoot but most had their clothes cut up the back as Apollo had pointed out.  The lack of odor of decay was what threw them the most. 

The lead scientist of the group took samples and tested for formaldehyde.  It tested positive.  He turned to Apollo.  “Al
though Mexican cemeteries don’t all mandate that the bodies be embalmed, a lot of the cemeteries in upper end areas will see more bodies that are preserved like this.” He said.  “Considering that the majority of the bodies are wearing name brand designer clothing, my guess is that wherever these corpses were dug up from, it was from a more affluent neighborhood.”

“Okay.  So somebody dug up some rich Mexican corpses and reanimated them.” Hammer said.  “Big question is, why?”

Popo had been looking at the corpses.  “Their mouths had been glued shut rather than sewed.  They tore them open when they were reanimated.  Does this mean anything?” he asked.

One of the technicians bagging the bodies for disposal looked up, “Not necessarily.  Pretty much all of the funeral homes these days are using cyanoacrylate to seal eyelids and mouths.”

“Cyano…?”

“Superglue.  A little goes a long way and it bonds skin i
nstantly.” The tech said.  “It was originally developed to be a battlefield wound stitcher.  It didn’t take.”

“Okay.  So we’re back to where we started.”  Apollo said.  “Any ideas
how
they were reanimated, doc?”

The lead scientist was testing different body fluids in field test kits, but none were reacting.  “Not yet, Apollo.  So far, none of these are giving a positive reaction.”

“Okay doc.  What is Occam’s razor?  When all other things are thrown out, the simplest answer, no matter how stupid, must be correct?” Apollo asked.

The lead scientist looked at him and gave a lopsided grin.  “Not exactly, no, but close.”

“So is there any way to tell if this shit is Voo-Doo or something?  I mean, like real magic?” he asked.

“There’s no such thing as real magic, Apollo.” The scientist said.

“Doc!  Take a look around, will you?”  Apollo interjected.  “My team and I?  We fight fucking vampires and werewolves and we just slaughtered a group of motherfuckin’ zombies for shit’s sake.  Don’t stand there and tell me that there ain’t no such thing as magic.”

“Well, not to get technical, but vampirism is transmitted via a viral vector that…”

“Shut up, doc.”  Apollo said.  “Just…shut up.”

“I was just trying to point out that…”

“Doc?  I got a gun.  And I know how to use it.”  Apollo said, pointing to his carbine.  “Don’t push my good nature.”

The scientist glanced at the assault carbine and then blanched.  “No need to be so grumpy.”

“Naw, doc, I’m Grumpy, he’s Sneezy.  That one’s Dopey.” Dom said grinning.  “And you’re Doc!” he laughed.

“Imbeciles.” The scientist muttered.  “I’m surrounded by imbeciles.”

Erickson stepped forward.  “Actually, right now you’re surrounded by corpses.  Corpses that came from a well-to-do graveyard, and we have no idea what animated them.  While I can’t speak for the rest of my compatriots here, I can say for myself that I’d really like you to finish whatever you need to do so we can load up and get the fuck out of here.”

Two of the technicians who had been taking samples from the corpses gave thumbs up to the lead scientist and put their samples into a crash case and snapped it closed.  The rest of the cleanup crew came in and finished loading the bodies, now in body bags onto a slip conveyor and began sliding them into a truck.  Another began scooping soil with a small Bobcat and dumping it into 55 gallon drums to be taken back and incinera
ted.

“We’re going to need to find this cemetery.” Apollo stated.  He keyed his radio for Tinker, “OpCom, Actual, come in.”

“Go ahead, Actual.” Laura responded.

“Can you double check the initial report from the field agent for the location of the first sighting.  Check that location against any cemeteries in that area where upper income residents would be buried?” he asked.

“What are we looking for, Actual?”

“The source for these bodies, OpCom.  They appear to have been prepared for burial by a funeral parlor.  They test positive for formaldehyde.  These aren’t freshly dead.”

“Affirmative.  Stand by.”  It took her just a few moments to get back.  “Actual, your guess might not be far from the mark.  First sightings report is only blocks away from a cemetery where all burials require formal preparations according to state records.”

“Shoot me the GPS on that cemetery, if you would ma’am.  We’re going to go and check it out and see if we can find an
ything there, over.”

“You should be receiving on your PDA now.”

A buzz at his wrist indicated a download had been received.  Apollo studied it and sent Mueller to notify the cleanup crew’s chopper to warm up for a short hop.  He left Dom and Popo to keep babysitting duty while the geeks and cleanup finished up their work.  Meanwhile, he, Hammer and Mueller were going to check out a graveyard and see if anything was left behind that might give a clue as to who reanimated a handful of dead.

The lead scientist volunteered to go along and Apollo didn’t like the idea at first.  Having the doc with them would be more of a distraction for the squad as they would have to consider the doc a liability.  But when the doc reminded him that if reanim
ation chemicals were used to create the zombies and residues could still be lying about, Apollo had to capitulate.  The equipment that doc used was a lot more sensitive than their noses and some of those chemicals, once you smelled them, it was already too late.

The four men grabbed the doc’s gear and headed back to the chopper.  The cemetery was only 15 miles east of their present location.  Not a huge distance, but enough that the chopper would make it a very short ride.

*****

The small craft pulled alongside the docks once more and Foster didn’t wait for it to be tied off.  He jumped to the wooden dock and began walking away, his bodyguards hustling to rush to meet him.  As soon as he was clear of the boat, the pilot pulled away and accelerated off into the open ocean again, the engines of the Monterey roaring to life once more.

The bodyguards weren’t sure if they’d see Foster again, at least, not in one piece.  One spoke quietly into the cuff of his sleeve and the car was brought to meet them.  Foster said nothing as the vehicle slowed to a stop and the guard opened the door for him.  He stepped inside and they entered after him.

Once the car was moving back toward the warehouses, he turned to the largest of his two guards.  “Well?  Anything ha
ppen while I was gone?”

The vampire who looked passively out the windows turned to Paul and simply stated, “We felt the shift in power.” Then turned to stare out the window again.

“And are you aware of who your new master is now?” Paul asked, almost angrily.

“Thorn.” The vampire answered, without meeting his gaze.

Foster grated his teeth.  He didn’t understand why this angered him so.  He knew this would happen.  He knew before he ever agreed to go to the island.  He knew as soon as Thorn insisted that he be put in charge of his forces.  Yet, for whatever reason, once he was stripped of his power, Foster had felt cheated.  It was one thing to tell yourself that you were temporarily handing over the reins of power to another, it was another to
feel
it.  To feel the disdain in your people when you were around them, to feel that they couldn’t possibly care any less that you were no longer in charge.

The car came to a stop at the warehouses and the guards stepped out, holding the door for Foster.  When he came to the doors, Damien was waiting for him.  “Master, what have you
done
!?  We all felt the shift in power and now…who is this Thorn?” he whined.

“It is only temporary, Damien.  A necessary nuisance in o
rder to prevail in the upcoming battle.  That is all.”  Foster reassured the young vampire.

“But master, how do you know he will release us?” his eyes were frantic.

Foster pulled out his copy of the blood alliance.  “It is signed in blood, my dear boy.  He cannot break the bond.”

Damien’s eyes grew wide.  “A blood covenant?” he asked.

“An alliance.” Foster corrected.  “Legally, the same, but technically, different.  Still, Thorn is as bound to it as I am.” He said.

“But master, what if he…”

“He cannot.  I’ve seen to it.  There are no loopholes.” Paul smiled.  “It is breakable upon completion of our task or upon mutual agreement.”  He smiled.  “It truly is that simple.”  He turned and walked deeper into the warehouse.  “Now, show me to where you have set up my sanctum so that I may rest.  I’ve had a rather difficult night and would like to sleep.” He ordered, feeling the final effects of the Elven blood as it worked its way out of his system.

“Of course, master.”  Damien led Foster to what once were the offices of the warehouse.  They had hung his tapestries over the glass windows that looked out over the warehouse itself.  There were no exterior windows so no sunlight could possibly leak in.  His large, four post bed had been set up and his furn
iture placed to replicate the room below the parking garage in the District of Columbia.

Foster nodded his approval. 

They had brought him his meal in the form of a buxom brunette and an athletic blonde.  Both would be made use of prior to him taking rest.  Foster stripped from his clothing and gave them to Damien to have them cleaned.  His copy of the blood alliance was rolled up in the breast pocket of his jacket.