Operation (34 page)

“Yes, sir,” the petty officer said smoothly.

Reese dropped the remnants of the rose on his desk and wiped his hand. He reached for the cup of coffee. “Thanks.”

The petty officer left and closed the door behind him.

Reese went and opened the shutters to let some light into the room. He sat back down at the desk and stared out the window.

“But if it
was
a dream…Christ…what the hell have I gotten myself mixed up with?”

On the desk, Reese saw the note from Christina that he had read earlier. It had flipped over and there was writing on it. Reese picked up the card and read:
May all your dreams come true.

“Yeah…right.”

Chapter Twelve

Dimitri woke about thirty minutes before sunset. Like many people, he never had to check the time on a watch or clock, his body just knew when it was time to wake. Instead of immediately rising as was his custom, he remained on his bed in the fallout shelter and let his eyes roam around the new surroundings.

The shelter’s walls and floor were made of smooth concrete. There was one air duct that could be opened to let air in and out via a pipe that ran from the shelter to the surface above. The walls were lined with shelves and every available space had been transformed into a storage area. Even the beds had false bottoms to allow for additional storage. There were three bunk beds allowing six people to sleep in the shelter. The two girls occupied one set, Andre and Iliga another and he slept in the last with the top bed empty. The others showed no signs of waking yet and it was quiet, it would give him a few moments to think of how he would approach the difficult task that awaited him.

He had to do it today—tell the girls about who had made them and what had happened to their father. He could think of no easy way that he could use to soften the inevitable blow that was the truth. That an evil vampire, so blinded by his anger and thirst for revenge, used them to achieve the end he sought with no thought for their lives. He hoped that he could salvage or save some of their innocence by making them understand that although they were created by evil—they did not have to be evil.

The others started to stir as their bodies reacted to the coming night. They would have to feed shortly and he thought that would be best before he talked to the girls. He didn’t want their craving for food to make their dispositions any worse.

Dimitri’s plan for food had safeguards built in—diverting attention away from where they lived by not feeding in the Norfolk area. Instead, they traveled out to Suffolk, Virginia, only forty-five minutes away by car, where there was abundant livestock for them to use, as well as fewer people in the under-populated city.

Andre and Iliga rose from their sleep looking refreshed and energized. They immediately looked in Dimitri’s direction as young children look to a parent for approval or instruction. Dimitri had seen that look before, and he always pondered the possible meanings of it. Although his friends had always looked to him for leadership, becoming vampires had made seemed to reinforce an unquestioning allegiance with the others. At times he found it comforting in that they would protect him at any cost, but at other times he felt it unnerving that his friends had lost their own, individual, thoughts and desires for life. But it was the life they had and it was something—a fact that he had to convince the two young girls of.

The girls were still silent and unmoving in their beds.

“We shall go to feed,” Dimitri said. “But first, Andre, wake the girls, then help Iliga check the security of the house and the surrounding area, then check the news for anything unusual.”

“Understood,” Andre said as Iliga nodded his head.

After gently waking the girls, Andre and Iliga departed the shelter. 

“We’re hungry,” Ishma said as she approached Dimitri.

Dimitri felt the wave of regret and remorse flow through him at the sight of the young girl. How could Josip have done such a thing? He needed to understand what drove his once close friend to such madness.

“We shall feed soon,” Dimitri said. “First we need to check some things and then we shall be on our way.”

 The younger girl, Crema, sat on the bed with her back to the wall and stared down at her feet with a look of bored indifference.

“Are there any books?” Ishma asked.

“Books? There may be some upstairs,” Dimitri offered. “Why?”

“She likes to read,” she said. “And it keeps her busy.”

Dimitri sensed that Ishma wanted to talk about something, but not in the presence of the younger girl. He nodded in understanding.

“She can go up and look,” he suggested as he walked over to the bed and picked the young girl up and placed her on the ground. “Just stay inside the house.”

“Okay Crema?” Ishma asked. “You can go and look, but you have to stay inside. You understand?”

“Okay,” she said as she turned and hurried up the stairs.

As soon as she was out of sight, Ishma spoke. “I had a dream,” she said softly. “It was very strange.”

“What was it about?” asked Dimitri.

“When I told you last night I couldn’t remember what happened the last time we were home—when everything went dark. It came to me in my dream. The man who did this—his name—his name was Josip wasn’t it?”

Dimitri was discomfited by her directness. He was not completely surprised by her dream state revelation. Since he had been turned, he had learned that there was a physical closeness factor associated with vampires. When vampires were in close vicinity to one another, especially when they were at rest and their mental inhibitions were at their weakest, there was a kind of sharing that could occur. This sharing was usually on the surface of ones thoughts however, if they both focused on the same topic, a deeper revealing of thoughts could occur—creating a bond.

In this case, these two girls had been made by Josip with whom Dimitri and the others shared a significant bond—their maker, as well as their close friendship—both before and after their change. Through these connections, as well as Dimitri’s own thoughts about the same topic, Ishma had received what she sought—the lost moments when she had been taken by Josip.

“Yes,” said Dimitri answering her question. “His name was Josip.”

“And you knew him—he was part of your group.”

“Yes. He was part of our group.” Hearing the animosity in her voice. “We were friends before we had been changed. He was different then.”

“I don’t understand all of it,” she said. “We were just talking and then he…”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” said Dimitri. “We can—”

“I have to!” she cried. “I want to know—I have to make sense of all this.”

“Very well,” Dimitri said. “I can help you relive the memory. Lie back down on the bed and close your eyes and think about it in your thoughts. If you think very hard, I will be able to see what it is in your thoughts and help you to understand them.”

Ishma didn’t answer, but she lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes. Dimitri saw her tremble and he touched her hand to try and reassure her. In his own thoughts, he hoped that the truth they were both about to face would bring them closer, not drive them further apart.

He drifted into her memories…

 *****

The moon had risen as Ishma and Crema ran toward home.

“Daddy is going to be mad at us!” Crema said.

“Hush and hurry up,” Ishma said. She already knew that her father would indeed be very angry at her. She was the eldest and it was her responsibility to take care of her little sister and be home before dark. If any rule was upheld through the strictest punishment, it had always been that one. She would indeed receive a lengthy if not painful punishment for her infraction.  

“Hello there!” a man’s voice called to them.

Ishma looked in the direction of the voice. She saw a young man on the side of the road. She could see his outline, but not his face in the soft moonlight.

“I need some help,” he said. “I’m lost.”

Ishma had no intentions of stopping. Her main goal was to get home and hope that her father had been called out on some errand and she could slip into the house, bribe Crema with the promise of baking her favorite cake to keep her mouth shut and perhaps escape punishment.

“He needs help,” Crema said tugging at Ishma’s hand. “Father always said we should help those that we can.”

“I know,” Ishma said, “but we are in a hurry!”

“Daddy says we should always make time to be good and charitable so that others will do the same for us when we need.”

“I know—I know,” Ishma said. “But—”

“I’m lost,” the man said again as he moved toward them. “Can you please help me? I’m looking for an Idriz Lauki.”

Ishma stopped suddenly, almost wrenching Crema’s arm out of her socket with the abrupt halt. She exhaled deeply thinking that this situation couldn’t get any worse. If she gave him directions to their home, the man would tell her father about the kindness offered by his daughters this night to a stranger on the road in the evening. If she didn’t, and the man found his way to their home through the direction of another, which was very probable because everyone knew her father, the man would no doubt comment on the fact that the two girls—his daughters—had refused to help the poor lost traveler that night. Either way, she would not be able to escape the fact she had disobeyed her fathers golden rule about being out after dark. She had only one chance left.

“Idriz Lauki is our father,” Ishma said solemnly.

The man moved slowly out of the darkness and into the gentle moonlight. He was tall and thin and almost gliding towards them.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to his. It was too dark to make out any detail such as color or shape, but she saw a peculiar glow within them; like an animal’s eyes she thought, but decided it was nothing more then the reflection from the moonlight. The thought was fleeting though as it was quickly replaced by another—that this man was a good man, a very handsome man, and most importantly of all, that he should be trusted and that he meant them no harm.  

“He is—your father!” the man said. “That is very fortuitous! I am a very good friend of his. My name is Josip, how do you do?” he said as he bowed theatrically in front of them. Ishma heard a slight giggle from Crema which she quickly silenced by a sharp tug on her arm.

“It is nice to meet you,” Ishma said, “my name—”

“So that means you must be Ishma and this little princess must be Crema,” he said not allowing her to finish.

“Yes,” she agreed. She was surprised that this man knew so much about them and yet her father had never mentioned him to her, especially such a handsome man.

“Where is your father?”

“He had to do something in town,” Ishma began, “we were picking berries and didn’t realize how late it had gotten—so we must hurry to get home.”

“I see,” Josip said. “Your father probably doesn’t like you to stay out without him when it is dark, does he?”

“No,” Ishma answered quickly. “We must hurry.”

“Well, I know a shortcut across through the woods to get on the other side of the river. From there you can take us to your house. It will save some time as well as get you home before your father if he is just returning from town.”

“Ishma,” Crema said, “father said never to go through the woods. He says the old ruins are haunted by ghosts.”

“I know,” she said, “but we have this nice man to guide us and protect us,” she said feeling the strangest urge to prolong the meeting with this young man. “He will make sure we are safe.”

“Yes. I shall guard you as if you were my own children,” he said. “Let us hurry if we are to get to your home before your father—so we can surprise him.”

“Ishma…”Crema murmured. “I’m scared of the woods.”

“Shhh—it will be fine. Let’s go.”

The three of them proceeded through the woods, which slowly parted into a clearing holding the ruins of an old building. The moonlight lit the old pillars and stone wall with a yellowish glow.

“Let us rest for a minute,” Josip said.

They sat upon a wall, Josip in the middle and the one of the girls on each side of him.

“Let’s play a quick game while we rest,” Josip said as he stood. “Close your eyes and think about something, your favorite thing, and I will try and guess what it is. But you have to think hard and you can’t open your eyes no matter how long it takes me to guess. Okay?”

At first Ishma thought that it was foolish to stop and play a game. They didn’t have time—they had to get home. She wasn’t tired, nor did she think that Crema was.  She turned her gaze toward Josip to question his suggestion, but when her eyes met his for a brief moment, all of her hesitation vanished. It would be alright, she thought. Everything would be just fine.   

“Yes,” the girls agreed.

“Alright then, close your eyes,” he said.

The girls closed their eyes without any hesitation.

Ishma delved into her thoughts. She was surprised how quickly she shut out the outside world of the night. The sounds of the crickets and rustling branches in the soft but steady night breeze vanished from her senses. It was if everything ceased to exist around her.

His request had been to think of something that she wanted. That was not hard for Ishma because what she wanted was simple. She would think of her mother who had died in the childbirth of Crema and left her at a very young age to assume the role of mother. It was not a feeling of anger or resentment, but rather a feeling of the emptiness that haunted her. 

“Ishma,” her mother’s voice called to her in her thoughts. 

“Mama—I’m here,” she called back.

The image of her mother appeared to her. She was tall and thin with waist-long dark black hair. Her face had deep wrinkles creasing the corners of her eyes, but her eyes were alive and vibrant with an energy that Ishma always loved. Her mother walked toward her and sat next to her on the wall. She opened her arms opened wide and beckoned to Ishma.

“Come to me my dear Ishma,” she said. Her voice sounded like music to Ishma, music she had not heard for a very long time. The syllables were like notes that danced upon her skin making her feel wonderful.