Specters: A Monster Squad Novel - 8 (26 page)

“A demon?” Ingram fell into the chair beside Jameson and tried to swallow. “Are they in league with the Devil?”

“Sir? We got two more anomalies. This one is burning quite a bit hotter than the others and the one next to him. Ambient temperature.” The tech turned and gave him a wide eyed stare. “Could it be a zombie?”

“How the hell should I know?” Jameson barked. “Do I look like I know what the hell is going on down there? Just keep making me hardcopies of each subject.”

“You want to send the Titans against a group like this? When we don’t even know what kind of resources they have at their disposal?” Ingram choked. “Jesus, Jameson, they’re protected from fangers…but zombies? An infection like that would decimate the entire program.”

“We don’t know what it is, Robert. You’ll do well to keep your head about you. It could be a damned fanger for all we know.”

“Really? We’ve seen fangers in action. They had
some
kind of heat signature. Even if it was a residual from their activity or from earlier in the day. This thing is
cold
, whatever it is.”

Jameson reached across the short space and grabbed Ingram by the shirt front. “You will keep your cool, and we will watch this play out. Do you understand me?”

Ingram nodded, his head bobbing up and down. “I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

“We’ll see what this Monster Squad is capable of against a couple hundred targets.”

“Sir, there’s nearly a thousand by the computer’s best estimate.” The tech turned and handed him the printouts of the hardcopies he had requested.

“Fine. We’ll see how they do against a thousand.” He sifted through the papers then turned back to the tech. “How do we get faces on these?”

“Sir, they’d have to look straight up. The satellite can only look down, so…”

Jameson sighed. “Of course.” He tossed the hardcopies aside and crossed his legs. “Let’s settle in, gentlemen. Something tells me this may be a long night.”

14

“I have no doubt that he’s concerned for my well-being but I can’t believe he actually called you.” Jennifer paced slowly in Mitchell’s office, the glass of scotch tinkling in her hands. “If he’s that concerned about the mercenary he contracted, why doesn’t he cancel the hit?”

Mitchell sipped his coffee and tried to avoid the aroma of the smoky alcohol in her glass. He also tried to avoid staring at her form as she marched back in forth in front of him.

“He tried. It didn’t take.”

“A mercenary that doesn’t take orders isn’t worth much in my book.”

“Agreed. But this guy isn’t your average soldier of fortune. He’s an ex hunter from an overseas team. His boss tangled with us and was removed. He’s holding a grudge.”

“By removed, you mean you killed him.”

Mitchell shrugged. “Not originally. We simply removed him from his team and…look, it doesn’t factor into the equation now so there’s no sense in rehashing the details.”

A knock sounded from Mitchell’s door. He barked and it opened, a flustered master sergeant appearing at the edge. “Sir, we have a situation with the prisoner.”

“The prisoner? Oh…the CIA guy. With everything else going on, I’d almost forgotten him. What’s the problem?”

“He’s freaking out down there, Colonel. He keeps screaming that the Titans are coming and that we’re all going to die. Personally, I say we drug him to shut him up, but he’s got some of the men so agitated that I’m not sure what to do.”

Mitchell groaned and ran a thick fingered hand across his face. “Get Doc down there and see if he can sedate him. Not knock him out, just calm him down. I’ll be down there after he’s got his shit together and—”

A security officer pushed past the master sergeant and ran into the door jamb. “Colonel! We have a problem topside.”

“Problem? Why didn’t you call on the intercom?” He stood and marched toward the man.

“It wouldn’t go through, sir. We tried.” The security officer escorted him to the lift with the master sergeant and Jennifer in tow.

“Sitrep.” Mitchell held the door until all had filed in and then pressed the button.

“The werecat, sir. He came back and…somebody shot him.” The security officer cast a worried look to Jennifer who couldn’t contain her shock. “It wasn’t one of ours who dropped him sir.”

“Then who the hell was it? A base patrol or—”

“We think it was Bigby, sir. The cat said—”

“His name was Mick!” Jennifer interrupted, her face stern.

“Yes, ma’am.
Mick
told the topside guard that Bigby was across the road in the old office building. Said he planned to use gas on us.”

“Gas?” Mitchell clenched his jaw so tight that he feared his molars would crack. “Get an engineering team on that intel. Any possible way of implementing that threat, I want it neutralized.”

The doors opened and he marched out toward the small crowd gathered around the fallen werecat. One of the security officers had draped a tarp over his body but the blood had begun to run from under the edge. Jennifer closed her eyes and looked away as they closed on his form.

“Who spoke to him?”

The security guard stepped forward and motioned Mitchell to the side. “I did sir. He claimed that Bigby was in the building across the road. I’ve already sent two teams to investigate.”

Mitchell stared at the building and noted the missing window. “Son of a bitch. He was right here all along. And not a single squad member to send after him.”

“The man who shot Mick is over there?” Jennifer’s face was stone and he could tell by the way her shoulders were set that she was ready to go on the hunt.

“We don’t know yet. We’ve got people checking.”

“I want his balls, Matt.”

“I want all of him.” He cast a glance at the man on the floor, his mind imagining Apollo being struck down without warning. “And he will suffer.”

*****

Jack watched patiently as Allister finished his spell and waited for some awe inspiring crescendo. He was disappointed when the griffin simply leaned across the makeshift altar and blew out the candle. He looked up at those around him and whispered, “It is done.”

Jack glanced around and shrugged. “That’s it? No flash of light or eerie glow or…not even a healthy fart?”

Gnat cracked a grin as he leaned on the handle of his hammer. “I could work one up for ya there, Chief, but we’d have to carry you into battle.”

“No thanks, Travelocity. I just really thought there would be something to indicate it worked.”

Allister replaced the last of the items into his bag then met Jack’s stare. “You mean something that would alert them that they were locked in this plane? I think not.”

“Good point.” Jack turned to the warriors gathered around and motioned to them. “You know the drill. Take your positions and prepare for the worst. Remember, Lilith is the primary tango. We drop her, the rest are neutralized. Let’s move out.”

Marshall leaned across to Dom and mumbled, “Why do I get the feeling this op is gonna be FUBAR?”

“Do your job and let them do theirs. Everything will be fine.” He reached up and keyed his throat mic. “Sierra Team, switch to channel three. We don’t want to walk over their coms with cross chatter.”

He received a series of clicks as affirmatives then heard each of his squad members key in on the new channel. He keyed the coms again and directed his team to the obvious staging points. “Sierra Three, Sierra Four, western flank. Sierra Six, Sierra Seven, eastern flank. Five, take overwatch and keep your mags ready. Two, you’re with me.”

He watched as his team split up and disappeared into the darkening shadows of the woods. He sent up a quick prayer for each of them and gave a quick glance upwards. He actually felt a bit of relief as he barely made out Azrael’s black silhouette against the night sky, gliding overhead.

The greater elf trotted past him and caught up with Jack’s team. Dom watched as the elf continued to cast furtive glances toward both Sullivan’s sister and Jack. He knew something was going on, but he couldn’t begin to guess what. He just hoped that whatever was eating the white haired elf wouldn’t distract him once the fighting started.

Dom saw the saw mill through the thinning trees and set up with Marshall by his side. The two men staged behind a fallen old growth log and dug in. He watched through the thermals as Jack’s team effectively surrounded the large metal building. Dom keyed his mic once more, “Sierra Team, go silent.”

Each man attached the suppressor to their weapon and trained on their respective areas. Dom did a quick check with his team and verified the area clear. He switched to Jack’s frequency and reported the all clear. “They must be inside Phoenix. We’re all clear out here.”

“Copy that, Sierra One. We’re moving in now.”

Dom switched his coms back to his teams’ frequency then adjusted his ear bud so that he could listen in on Jack’s radio chatter as well.

Jack walked to the front double doors of the warehouse and kicked them open. “Hi home, I’m honey!” He leveled his P90 and began picking off the closest of the demons. He smiled to himself as the possessed practically exploded in balls of yellow light.

His team rushed through the doors and was met by a wave of demons intent on crushing them before they could reach their queen.

*****

Laura tossed and turned, her dreams more disturbing than she could have ever feared. Glowing amber wolf eyes glared at her, blaming her for trapping it for eternity. She saw a Halfling…a deformed version of one, writhing in agony, forever trapped in a crippled body, wracked with pain.

She sat bolt upright, sweat dripping from her body as she tore the blanket off and sat on the edge of the bed. She breathed heavily and tried to calm her racing heart.

Derek flipped on her light and stared at her through squinted eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“What? I, uh…had a bad dream.”

He flipped the light off and stepped into the room. He pulled the short chain on the bedside lamp and sat beside her. “I heard you yelling. I was afraid that maybe…”

She turned and stared at him. “What?”

He chuckled lightly and patted her leg. “It’s stupid, but I thought maybe Dad had come back and…” he trailed off, shrugging. “I know, stupid, huh?”

She shook her head and inhaled deeply, still trying to calm her ruined nerves. “Not really.”

“You don’t think he’d come back here, do you?”

She shook her head softly. “No. He’s where he wants to be.” She glanced out her window and watched the wind blow the lower limbs of the pines. “I just hope he’s truly happy.”

“Yeah, me too.” Derek stood and stretched his lower back. “I’m going back to bed.” He gave her a wan smile. “Maybe you could try some warm milk?”

“If Jack Daniels can’t help me sleep, I doubt Elsie-the-cow can.” She patted his arm as he walked by.

She listened for his door to shut and strained her ears to hear if anybody else might be up. She cast a weary eye at the bedside clock and sighed. Had she been back with the squads, she might be up for three or four days in a row. What was it about family that just drained her?

She laid back on the bed and stared at her ceiling. Her mind drifted back to the rusty old hangar that felt more like home than this house did. She smiled as images of Evan flashed through her mind. She could feel herself relaxing as she imagined him holding her, his cool skin against hers, soothing her as she fell asleep.

If she allowed herself to, she could almost imagine that she was floating above herself, with Evan, still in the hangar. She could see how he made her happy, how he loved her, how they seemed to fit like two pieces of the same puzzle. She could see how his quiet intelligence complimented her strong and commanding presence.

Her brow furrowed as she focused on herself. At the hangar, with the troops, she was strong, confident, imposing. Here, amongst her family, she had allowed herself to slip back into the role of ‘little’ sister. Her older brothers always thinking they had to protect her, to help guide her, mold her. In many ways, they still treated her that way…but why? She knew that they were aware of her accomplishments. Her career choices. How could they simply assume that she still needed their guidance, their gentle urgings to do things a certain way, or accept their judgments?

Her eyes opened as the realization struck her. Because she allowed them to…

She sat up and turned to face the mirror. The image she saw wasn’t the Laura Youngblood that was the XO of the Monster Squads…it was Laura Youngblood, teenage daughter of Jim Youngblood. She stood and walked slowly toward the mirror. She stared at the image and her head cocked to the side as she studied the reflection.

Instinctively, her hands reached for her long hair and pulled it back into the pony tail she so often wore at work. She leaned in and looked at the image more closely. In the low light of the room she couldn’t see how she had aged. How time and worry and stress had caused the fine lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Laugh lines her mother had called them.

Slowly her mouth curled into a smile. Yes, she thought of Evan and how he could make her laugh without trying. She reached over and flipped on the overhead light and the older more confident woman she once knew stared back at her. Not the scared little girl that had taken over the moment she saw her father lying in the cold sterile hospital bed.

Laura straightened herself and squared her shoulders. She stared at the woman in the mirror and gave herself a stern stare. “What’s done is done. There’s no going back and changing it. Now pull on your big girl panties and deal with it.”

The image in the mirror became more serious and nodded slightly. It was time to take care of things here then get back home where she belonged.

*****

“Major, the Reaper is responding slugglishly.”

Tufo leaned across the arm of the command chair and studied the controls of the remote drone operator. “Have you run diagnostics?”

“Affirmative, sir. It says it’s all good, but…it’s like something is piggy backing our signals.”

Dr. Peters stepped into the OPCOM and gave Major Tufo a curious glance. “You called, sir?”

Tufo held up a finger to indicate ‘one moment’ and Evan gasped. He immediately pulled his hand down and hid it behind the arm of the command chair then glanced back at the drone operator. “Get the techs on it. I want that thing a hundred percent.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tufo slid out of the chair and pulled Evan to the rear of the OPCOM. “This is why I called you. As soon as the adrenaline started pumping…” He held his hands up and allowed Evan to study the thick pointed claw-like nails that had erupted from his fingertips.

“When?”

“Just a few minutes ago. Please, Doc, tell me it’s like that unwanted erection in fifth grade math class.”

Evan shot him a totally confused look and Mark gave him a knowing look. “You know…when the teacher wants you to come up and work out a problem on the board but you’d rather take the zero.”