Page 13 of The Vampire's Thirst
Dax let the observation roll around in his somewhat hazy brain for a while. A little girl. A burning car.
Nope. Wait. Yep.
Now he remembered. The kid was strapped in the backseat. The two adults in the front were goners. He yanked her out in the nick of time before the twisted hunk of metal went kablooey.
She’d been such a skinny thing. Cut up from the accident. He pulled her from the station wagon but didn’t let her eye the carnage. Her parents had crispied in the front seat. No child should have to see such a scene. Tough kid. Once he heard sirens, he set her in the grass, telling her to scream when help arrived. He hid in the woods, watching until the paramedics found her. Afterward, he shadowflashed to a nearby portal.
The female had filled out in all the right places. She was still small. Then again, most people were small compared to his six-foot-five vampire Firebrand frame.
“Nice to see you again, kid. Looks like life’s been kind. Now, untie me.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Not just yet.”
“What’s your name?”
“Chiara. Yours?”
“Daxton. Dax.” With eyes locked onto hers and a hint of a grin on his lips, he jammed his fists forward, snapping the ropes which held him. “Oops. Run, Chiara.”
****
Colonel Mateo Garcia leaned over the huge Western US regional map spread across a table in the otherwise bare room inside a shingled, single-story, green-roofed building. His pen tapped a spot. “This is another portal in our zone.”
Beside him, General Isaac “Lip” Lipton eyeballed the location. “Looks as if it would be a popular place to slip through.” He stood, legs apart and hands clasped behind his back, wearing combat dress, the distinctive tan beret of the Rangers tucked under his arm.
Joint Operations Special Command created a new exercise. Operation Frankenstein. They assigned Lipton to organize one of three Special Mission Units. His SMO was tagged West Bank. Mateo Garcia was in command of two battalions of Rangers. Along for the ride were a Task Force Green unit and a Task Force Blue unit.
Joint Ops also gifted them with Dante’s disgraced ex-military man who went by the moniker of General Mars. Lipton and Matty had escaped with the guy and a doctor from the British nobleman’s compound in a helicopter just before all hell broke loose. They were armed with proof of the existence of otherworld creatures. The Englishman died that day. But they turned his intel and their hitchhiking companions over to the US Army’s High Command.
Unfortunately, they were stuck with Mars, Joint Ops ordering he be involved with the current mission. The man was an irritant, a braggart, a fool, and without a conscience. As Matty saw it, those were his good points. An investigation revealed his name was not Mars. Following a dishonorable discharge from the British army, he’d led a mercenary unit into Africa where he was rumored to have destroyed an entire village of men, women, and children. Standing next to such a miserable asshole chapped Matty’s balls. But orders were orders.
The Dr. Frankenstein scientist disappeared. Matty didn’t care. The guy was creepy.
General Lipton’s West Bank forces deployed temporarily to an abandoned military base near Monterey, California. Despite having sold off most of the site, the Americans had wisely hung onto selected buildings from which they ran black ops. This mission was the blackest of ops.
“We capture if possible. Kill if necessary.” Lipton drummed his fingers on the table, glancing at Matty, a trusted officer and long-time friend. “What do you think, Colonel?”
“From what Dante told us, a snatch and grab may be difficult. I’m opposed to unnecessary risks.”
“I have no problem with a kill order,” said Mars, his eyes sparking with excitement.
The general drew his lips tight while he studied the disgraced man. “Are there more portals than these in the western sector?”
“It’s possible, but Dante only logged these. His source piecemealed the intel to us.” To indicate fourteen spots, Mars tapped repeatedly on the map. “His Lordship wasn’t aware of others.”
Lipton stiffened his military spine, a loud breath escaping his lips. “We have the go-ahead to use extreme measures to interrogate any captured otherworlders. Maybe we can uncover other portals. If we do, we shut down the whole bloody lot of them.”
“Devil’s advocate here. But have we considered sitting across the table from these guys? Seeing what a little civilized palaver can do?” Matty planted a stiff arm on the map. He had a few military tenets. Settle disagreements with talk or sanctions. If that fails, go to war. If war is the option, win. Simple. Have the baddest attitude and the baddest guns.
“You don’t palaver with monsters,” said Mars. “Trust me. They will kill us on sight.”
The colonel wasn’t about to trust this mercenary bastard. He’d rather snuggle up to an otherworlder.
“I understand your thoughts, Matty. But we’ve been advised against it. Contact is too risky. The long-term mission is clear,” said Lipton. “If it’s not human, capture it or kill it. Extreme containment.”
The general shifted from foot to foot before continuing. “Arm some soldiers with the tranc bullets developed by Dante’s research scientists. Their aim will be to capture. Dress the other troops to kill. We possess the Englishman’s formula to enhance the physical strength of our men. Not knowing the long-term effects of the drug, I’ve advised command against using it before more study. So far, they’re listening.”
“Time for a little shock and awe.” Matty folded the map, taking it along as they exited the stark room to walk on a derelict road, grass growing in the cracks of the concrete.
