Operation (11 page)

“Ahhh…” Both girls screamed in pain. Their hands clutching at the metallic collars they wore around their necks.

“That was a reminder of the control we have over you. Any sudden movements will be punished severely. Do you understand?”

Both girls nodded.

“Good. Now step out into the corridor.”

 Ishma and Crema moved toward the door.

When the two girls stepped out into the corridor, two heavily armed guards stood there, maintaining a safe distance of about six feet from where the door was. Both were dressed in dark military clothing and wearing full body armor. Their hands, necks and faces were covered with Kevlar. Only their eyes were visible.

“That way,” one of them said as he pointed in the direction the girls were to go.

Ishma and Crema lead the way; their guards remaining several feet behind them as they walked. After several minutes, they exited one part of the building and entered another. Both girls reacted simultaneously to the change.

“Do you smell it?” Crema asked.

“Yes. They have cattle here.”

“Stop,” one of the guards announced. He pointed to a door. “You go through there. You enter into a small enclosure that leads to the next room. I will open that door after this one locks. In thirty minutes, the door will open again; when it does, you will have fifteen seconds to come back in. If you do not, you will be punished. Is that understood?”

Both girls nodded.

“Then go.”

*****

The guards locked the second door as the two girls went through the first. Without speaking, the guards stepped back into the hall and stood next to the video display showing the girls entering the room on the other side. One guard pressed the button opening the outer door, allowing the girls to enter the main room. The guard that had spoken earlier to the girls pressed a button starting a timer.

The image on the monitor revealed a large room, perhaps the size of a small house, converted into a barn-like environment with stalls and a bullpen area. Two cows were milling about eating hay from a bale placed in the center of the room.

The guards watched as the girls moved toward the cows slowly and calmly, each choosing one. Reaching out, the girls stroked their cow gently, soothing the animals to their presence. The cows continued to munch the hay, ignoring the girls’ presence.  Gentle noises of the cattle as they munched and shuffled the hay with their feet were the only sounds in the room.

The girls looked around, their eyes turning red and their canine teeth extending into long fangs. Their lips formed a momentary expression of loathing before they turned back to the cows. The guards turned away from the monitor as they waited for the time to count down to zero. They waited in silence.

When the thirty minutes had elapsed, the guard spoke: “Your time is up. Move toward the door.” He pressed the button that opened the door that would allow the girls to exit. As the door opened, he placed himself in the small area that joined the two rooms. As the girls saw him, they looked surprised at the closeness of the encounter, which then turned to fear at the possibility of punishment. The guard saw that the girls’ eyes and teeth had returned to normal, their cheeks a bright red from the feeding.

“Listen to me,” he began. “We only have a few seconds. I am not one of your captors and I am not here to hurt you. I am going to help you and take you away from here. You must listen to me and follow my instructions exactly.” He removed his hood, allowing the girls to see his face, his red eyes. He opened his mouth to show them his fangs as well. “I am just like you. Do you understand?”

Ishma nodded understanding, but Crema just stood still watching him. Ishma grasped Crema’s hand and holding it firmly. She nodded again to the man.

Quickly the man replaced his hood. Then, he removed two small tubes of liquid from his pocket. “Drink these now. It will nullify the effects of the poison in the collar,” he said sternly.

His hypnotic voice conveyed urgency and the two girls drank the liquid immediately without any hesitancy. “Good, now let’s go, and do exactly as I say.” He donned his hood, again hiding his vampire characteristics.

The door opened and the three of them emerged into the corridor joining the other guard. “He is also one of us,” he whispered to the girls. Then he turned his attention to the other guard.

“Is he in place?”

“Yes. All is proceeding as planned.”

“Good. Then let’s get them back to the holding area.”

They carried out the same procedure going back as they did earlier, the girls followed the arrows and the guards followed a few feet behind. When they reached the door, they waited for it to be unlocked. The guard keyed his headset and spoke, “Central, open the lounge door.”

“Wait one,” came the response. After a few seconds, the voice came over his headset. “This is control, there has been a change of plans.” Another pause. “The girls are going on a little trip this evening. You two are to escort them to the loading bay where a transport vehicle is waiting. Then you will join the rest of the platoon for this detail.”

“What’s going on?” the guard asked.

“Apparently they are going to another test facility on the base. Why this can’t wait until tomorrow I don’t know. The general must have a bug up his ass or something because he’s signed the authorization.”

“Damn,” the guard muttered. “How come we—”

“Hey, I just work here you know—following orders and all that good shit.”

“Yeah, us too,” the guard answered. “We’re just the hired help.”

“Well, let’s get them moving then.”

“Roger that central.”

“This way,” the guard said, his voice sounding authoritative. He pointed with his weapon to the corridor, indicating direction to the girls. “We’re going on a trip.”

When they arrived at the loading area, three vans with dark glass to hide the occupants from detection were lined up.

“Over here,” a Navy SEAL wearing lieutenant insignia on his collar called to them as they arrived. The two guards and two girls proceeded as directed.

The lieutenant was a muscular built man dressed in his standard camouflage utilities. His skin was deeply tanned, his dark hair was cut short and his eyes hyper vigilant, checking and rechecking that all was in order.

The guards and the girls stopped a few feet from the lieutenant.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said to the girls. “We are going on a little trip tonight.” In his hand, he held up a remote control device. “Don’t give me any trouble and I won’t have to use this, understood?”

The girls nodded.

“Good. Now, you two” the lieutenant said to the two escort guards, “one of you in the first van, one in the last van. I’ll take the girls in the middle van. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the guards answered.

“Then let’s get the show on the road,” the lieutenant said.

“Ladies, your chariot awaits. Move!” The lieutenant keyed his headset. “Central, I have positive control. Chariot one, three pax, chariot two, two pax and two cargo, chariot three, three pax.”

“You have control,” a voice in his headset confirmed. “I’ll notify the other facility of your departure. Estimated travel time, eighteen minutes. Have a good trip.”

The lieutenant opened the rear door of the van. “In,” he said. “Sit in those two seats,” he said, indicating two rear seats that sat behind a steel mesh that prevented contact from the rest of the vehicle. The girls did as instructed and he closed the rear door of the van and locked it. He looked at the other two vans as the escort guards got in with the rest of the platoon. When the doors on the other two vans had closed, he slipped into the front seat of his van and slammed the door shut. He turned to the driver. “Let’s go.”

The driver of the van, keyed his headset, “Control, ready for departure.”

“This is control. Opening bay doors—the clock is running, T-minus 18 minutes,” the voice replied.

“Roger that, control.”

 The large steel doors opened and the first van pulled out. They were immediately engulfed by bright floodlights. Within a few seconds, they reached the first checkpoint, a tall, electrified fence. At the top of the fence the sharp edges of the circular concertina wire glimmered in the bright white light. Two guards approached the center van. The lieutenant rolled down his window.

“Verify positive control,” one of the guards said, as the other remained a few feet away with his weapon out.

“I have control,” the lieutenant said, producing the remote he had shown the girls earlier. The device contained two lit LED’s on its surface, one green and one red. In the center of the device, there was one unmarked button covered by an accidental press plate.

The guard inspected the device without comment. “Open the center door,” he said.

The driver pressed the switch, unlocking the door. The guard opened it and verified that the steel divider adequately separated the passengers in the rear of the van. Satisfied, he closed the door of the van and keyed his headset, “Central, checkpoint one, verified positive control.”

“Roger, checkpoint one, verified positive control. Gate opening.”

The gate in the fence swung open and the van proceeded through.

A few minutes later, they reached the final checkpoint, following the same procedure. When completed, the three vans left the secure compound and drove slowly away.

The streets on Little Creek Amphibious base were deserted at this hour. However, as an extra security measure, the vans were required to travel on the side streets instead of the main thoroughfare. As they slowly traveled at the 15mph limit, the lieutenant remained silent, his eyes closed as if in deep thought. When the lead van came to a stop and remained stopped, the driver, a young petty officer looked toward the officer for guidance. When he did nothing, the petty officer spoke.

“Sir?” 

The lieutenant didn’t answer.

“Sir?”

“Yes,” the lieutenant answered. “What is it?”

“We’ve stopped.”

“Yes, we have. We are making a slight change in plans.”

“But—”

“Get out,” the lieutenant said.

“Sir?”

“I said, get out.”

As the petty officer reached toward his sidearm, the lieutenant suddenly clenched his hand; it felt like a steel vise. The next sound was the cracking of his fingers as the bones snapped. The petty officer grimaced as he looked questioningly at the officer inflicting pain upon him.

What he saw took away the pain for a moment; it was the look on the lieutenant’s face in his eyes, the red glow.

“I said, get out,” the lieutenant repeated.

As the petty officer opened his door with his un-mangled hand, the lieutenant removed his Glock from its holster and cold-cocked the driver, sending him unconscious to the ground.

Chapter Eight

Dimitri, dressed as the SEAL lieutenant, got out of the van and walked to the other side of the vehicle to check that the petty officer was unconscious. After a few seconds, the back door on the first van opened and Andre tossed the bodies of two guards out. Almost simultaneously, the same procedure occurred with the last van by Iliga. He also pulled out the bodies of two men. Both Iliga and Andre checked the state of the bodies on the road, then looked toward Dimitri and nodded, indicating that their task was complete.

“Well done,” Dimitri said. “Any problems? Did they see anything to indicate that you are anything other than regular soldiers?”

Both of the men silently shook their heads to indicate a negative.

“Good,” he continued as he checked his watch. “We have approximately seven minutes before any suspicions are aroused. Get in, we’ll drive off the base, and then switch vehicles.”

Andre got into the driver’s seat, Dimitri in the passenger seat, and Iliga in the back with the girls.

“Drive slowly,” Dimitri said to Andre. “We do not want to arouse any suspicions.”

Andre nodded, placed the vehicle in drive and drove off.

Once they were on the way, Dimitri turned his attention to the frightened girls in the back. “We’re almost out of danger,” he said. “Just a few more moments and we’ll be somewhere safe and we will get those collars off.”

“Who are you?” Ishma asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and fear.

“My name is Dimitri. This,” he said, pointing to the driver, “is Andre,” then pointing toward the rear, he said, “and this is Iliga.”

Both Andre and Iliga nodded, but said nothing.

“They don’t say much, do they?” Crema asked, her voice calmer than her older sister’s.

“It is their way,” Dimitri said.

“You are…” Ishma began slowly and tentatively, “you are…like us?”

“Yes. We are the same.”

“Why did you rescue us?” Ishma asked.

“We experienced the same situation you were in and we did not want you to have to do what we have done. We offer you a life, although different from what you have known. It is a life free from imprisonment and doing the bidding of someone else.”

“Where will we go now?” she asked.

“For now, somewhere safe; we have made a place here for the moment until it is safe to go elsewhere.”

“Is there such a place? A safe place?” she asked.

She spoke in the tone of a child; however, Dimitri heard a touch of sarcasm, which should not come from one so young. He felt it was wrong that such a young person should have such a dark outlook. A child’s life was supposed to be a time of fond memories to look back upon when the harshness of reality settled within it. Even he had had that much—a childhood where he was normal.

“There will be,” Dimitri said, trying to sound hopeful.

“Like home?” she asked.

“Where is home?” Dimitri asked as he realized that with everything that had happened tonight, he had forgotten to ask one of the questions that nagged at him from the beginning. “Where do you come from?”

“We are from a village near Kacianik,” she said.

Dimitri felt as if her statement had come along with a sudden blow to his chest. He had assumed from their appearance that they were of European descent; however, he had not considered the possibility that they were from the area that he and the others were.