Authors: C. J. Hill
Slayers (25 page)
She ran all the way down by the lake to burn energy. It had built up inside her, just like her frustration.
When nearly an hour had passed, she made her way back to the large building. The others were there already. They’d moved from debating the issue of going to Winchester to planning the attack. Papers and sketches were scattered across the table. Shang and Kody were analyzing pictures of Overdrake’s property. Dirk was writing a list of things they’d need for the mission and Jesse was working on a list of questions to be answered. Tori wondered why none of them had called her to join them and then remembered with another twinge of pain that no one cared what she thought.
She sat across from Jesse and Dirk. She glared at Jesse.
He looked up from his list. “What?”
“I have to stay at camp during all this?”
Jesse shot Dirk an angry look, but Dirk brushed off the disapproval with a shrug and a smirk. “That sort of slipped out. Sorry.”
“You’re not sorry,” Tori told Dirk.
“You’re right,” Dirk said with a slow drawl. “I’m not.” But she didn’t think he was talking about the voting thing.
She blushed, then looked away from Dirk. She didn’t want to get caught up in his intense blue eyes anymore. She turned to Jesse. “I admit I’m not up to speed when it comes to fighting, but I think I can destroy eggs as well as the rest of you.”
“It’s not the eggs I’m worried about.” Jesse made a notation on his paper. “It’s the armed men who will be guarding them.”
She continued to glare at him.
Jesse regarded her, letting long seconds go by. Finally, he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “All right. You can stay at the van with Dr. B, Booker, and Theo. You can be their bodyguard.”
“You’re letting Theo go?” She felt insulted all over again.
“We might need him for technical stuff,” Jesse said.
Oh. Theo’s skills were important enough to matter, but not hers. Wonderful.
She didn’t say anything else, because Dr. B came in carrying a large duffle bag. He stood at the front of the table again. “Jesse, Dirk, what have the teams decided?”
Jesse turned away from Tori to address Dr. B. “We’ve discussed it, and this is what it comes down to: If we attack Overdrake’s compound and it turns out to be the wrong decision, we’ll bear the consequences. But if we wait until the dragons attack D.C., then the entire city will bear the consequences. We’ve decided it’s better to bear the consequences ourselves. We’re going to try to destroy the eggs.”
Dr. B’s gaze went to Bess, stayed there for a long moment, then returned to Jesse and Dirk. “Part of me doesn’t want to let you anywhere near armed men, but the truth is, if you don’t destroy the eggs now, you’ll have two more dragons to fight later on—as well as whatever armed men Overdrake uses during his attack. So I’ll support your decision.”
Jesse motioned to the Slayers on the other side of the table. “Dirk, Rosa, and Alyssa voted against a preemptive strike, but they’ll go to help us.” His gaze fell on Tori. “Tori will be your bodyguard in the van. We’re going over ideas for a strategy now.”
Dr. B nodded, picked up a marker, and walked to the whiteboard. His earlier reluctance seemed to have been shelved. He was focused
now, committed. He wrote the word “strategy,” then drew shapes on the whiteboard to represent Overdrake’s buildings. Underneath the largest rectangle he wrote “dragon enclosure.” In the right-hand corner he drew the house and barn. He drew several balloon-looking lines. “This is the approximate location of the lampposts. My first inclination was to shoot them out to give us the benefit of fighting in the dark, but that would alert anyone in the area that something was wrong. We’d best leave them alone so we don’t lose the element of surprise. Surprise will be our biggest asset.”
now, committed. He wrote the word “strategy,” then drew shapes on the whiteboard to represent Overdrake’s buildings. Underneath the largest rectangle he wrote “dragon enclosure.” In the right-hand corner he drew the house and barn. He drew several balloon-looking lines. “This is the approximate location of the lampposts. My first inclination was to shoot them out to give us the benefit of fighting in the dark, but that would alert anyone in the area that something was wrong. We’d best leave them alone so we don’t lose the element of surprise. Surprise will be our biggest asset.”
He drew what looked like furry lollypops. “Four trees stand at each corner of the dragon enclosure. Boards are nailed to the trunks of the trees, which tells us they’re used for reconnaissance posts.” He tapped his marker against one of the trees. “We couldn’t spot anyone in them during the day, but we’ll need to make sure they’re still empty before we raid the enclosure.”
He drew a large circle around the buildings. “The fence is twelve feet high, with razor wire on top. It’s alarmed and electrified and probably too tricky for us to disarm. What’s our plan?”
Jesse said, “I’ll fly Bess over the wall. Dirk will jump over. We’ll all carry tranquilizer guns. While I take care of the men guarding the enclosure, they’ll knock out the guard at the gate. Bess should be able to block any gunfire he gets off before he passes out. Once the gate is open, the others will drive in with the motorcycles.”
On the side of the board, Dr. B wrote the word “supplies,” and underneath that, “motorcycles,” “tranquilizer guns.” He paused and then added “rifles.” “I can’t take you into a dangerous place without real weapons, but use them as a last resort.”
Dr. B drew a road going to the dragon enclosure and then a rectangle at the fence. “The front guard is in a bulletproof booth. We’ll need to find a way to lure him out so we can dispatch him and open the gate.”
“Smoke bomb,” Shang suggested. “He won’t stay in his booth if he thinks it’s on fire.”
Dr. B added “smoke bomb” to his list of supplies. “If that fails, what’s our alternative?”
“We could tip the thing over,” Kody said with evident hope.
“Wouldn’t that set off some sort of alarm?” Rosa asked.
“We could really set the thing on fire,” Lilly said. “He’d have to leave then.”
“Wouldn’t that ruin the controls we need to open the gate?” Rosa asked.
Lilly waved a dismissive hand in her direction. “It would be a controlled fire. I can extinguish any flames that get near the electronics.”
No one had any arguments for that. Dr. B added “fuel” to his list.
“When the eggs are destroyed, you’ll need to get out of there as fast as you can. You might set off alarms, so you don’t want to give reinforcements time to show up.” He wrote the words “cordless jackhammer,” “bolt cutters,” and “synchronized watches.” “What else do we need to discuss?”
“The door lock,” Dirk said.
“Ah, yes,” Dr. B said. “I showed the pictures of the enclosure door to Theo, and he said it’s triggered by fingerprints. Once the guards are unconscious, you’ll be able to hold one of their hands to the control panel to open the door. The jackhammer should be able to cut through the dragon eggs no matter how hard the shells are—and from what Tori told us, it sounds like the shells are becoming thinner anyway.”
Dr. B picked up the duffle bag, opened it, and passed out Ziploc bags with an assortment of techno gadgets: wireless radio receivers small enough to wear over their ears, throat microphones, and video cameras to wear on their necks. The bag contained one low-tech item: earplugs. “Any of you who are near the jackhammer will need earplugs.”
He handed a set to Tori. “I’m afraid the noise will be especially invasive for you.”
He handed a set to Tori. “I’m afraid the noise will be especially invasive for you.”
Dr. B continued, assigning parts, going over contingency plans, and adding to his list of supplies: black clothing, bulletproof jackets, ski masks, helmets. Tori listened to the plans but didn’t try and memorize them. She knew her part. She was staying by the van.
B
rant had read and then reread the text message from his contact.
You have a pest control appointment tonight.
That was code for the dragon Slayers’ operation. Although it probably wouldn’t have mattered if the message had read:
“Your men inadvertently gave away your location. There will be an attack tonight, so get ready.”
rant had read and then reread the text message from his contact.
You have a pest control appointment tonight.
That was code for the dragon Slayers’ operation. Although it probably wouldn’t have mattered if the message had read:
“Your men inadvertently gave away your location. There will be an attack tonight, so get ready.”
Dr. B, as far as Brant could tell, had never spied on anyone at camp, not their phone calls or texts. Brant once had his contact steal and send some incriminating texts on a couple of the Slayers’ phones just to see what the fallout would be. There hadn’t been any.
Still, Brant deleted his text as a precaution. He wouldn’t fall into the same trap destined to ruin Dr. B and his followers. Brant didn’t blindly trust those around him. A spy could have infiltrated his ranks, too.
Unbidden, one of Dr. B’s favorite sayings to the team captains came to Brant’s mind:
A leader shouldn’t rule like a dictator. A leader should teach correct principles and let the people govern themselves.
A leader shouldn’t rule like a dictator. A leader should teach correct principles and let the people govern themselves.
Optimistic drivel—and exactly why dictators would always rule most of the world. Certainly free societies surfaced in history: Rome, Greece, America. But Rome and Greece had fallen. America would, too. It was already imploding—ruled by legislators who represented no one but their own best interests, congressmen who spoon-fed the people anything they wanted to hear.
Vote for me and I’ll give you everything. If we can’t pay for it, no matter. What’s a few trillion more in debt?
Vote for me and I’ll give you everything. If we can’t pay for it, no matter. What’s a few trillion more in debt?
America would change for the better soon, and then the people would have a leader who told them the truth about life. You don’t get everything you want.
Brant sat down in his favorite chair, a recliner that he’d set in front of the fireplace. He always had a fire burning, even on hot summer nights. Fire was everything. It was comforting like an old friend, beautiful and mysterious like a woman, and it was dangerous and powerful like himself.
After a few minutes, he leaned forward, reached into the fireplace, and took out a chunk of log that had broken off from the rest. He held it in his palm, watching the flames flickering up and down. It didn’t burn him. That was just one of the benefits he’d inherited from his dragon lord ancestors. When they’d added dragon DNA to their own, their skin had become fire resistant. The heat was nothing more than a tingle against his skin; the soft lick of a pet for its master.
He turned the piece of wood over in his hand as he considered his upcoming guests. He hadn’t wanted to fight them yet, and certainly not at his home. It complicated things. If any of the children were killed here, there were bound to be investigations. Questions. People prying into his affairs. It was best to avoid that if he could.
Neutralization, not annihilation had always been his plan for the Slayers. If a few of them died anyway … well, sometimes promises had to be broken.
Brant tossed the log chunk back into the fire, and it rejoined the other flames. After a few minutes, he got up and walked outside to his porch, restlessly walking its length while the humid summer air encircled him. The enclosure stood before him, every bit as much of a monument to his life’s work as the Great Pyramids were to the pharaohs in Egypt. The vets called it a cathedral when they didn’t think he was listening. He wouldn’t admit it to them, but he liked the name. He’d taken to calling it that himself lately.
The walls were not only thirty inches thick, they were made with steel-plated, reinforced concrete in order to keep the dragons’ signal from leaking out. Otherwise, he’d have to worry about every pregnant woman in the vicinity. Any of them could be a descendant of a dragon knight. He’d be overrun with superheroes before the dragons could fulfill their purpose.
The habitat had taken a year to complete and more than five million dollars to build—and that wasn’t including the city regulators he’d had to bribe to get past the building codes. For one tedious year, he had overseen the project. He’d built it three stories above ground and nearly two beneath to give the dragons room to stretch and fly. He’d brought in five thousand tons of dirt to cover the cement floor so the inside of the building could be landscaped with trees and bushes. He’d plumbed the place for ponds, he’d tested and retested the venting, cooling, and heating systems. He’d built a temporary runway so he could fly a private plane from St. Helena right to his property. Before he so much as moved one egg here, he wanted the place to be perfect.
Unfortunately, the flight from St. Helena hadn’t been. He’d charted a private plane and packed the eggs with only Styrofoam to protect them from jarring. Putting the eggs in steel-reinforced cement boxes would have made the load too heavy. The plan had been to land on the property and immediately transfer everything into the habitat.
But an unforeseen rainstorm kept them from landing. They’d circled blindly in the air, waiting for the weather to clear. When it hadn’t, the pilot had to make a forced landing at BMI to refuel.
For two hours they’d been on the ground—and in range of thousands of women. And at least eleven of them had been both pregnant and descended from the dragon knights.
Soon he would have a reunion with most of those children.
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