Coalition of the Damned - 03 (12 page)

She looked out over the band of mixed Elven hunters and human-wolf hybrids and stated simply, “Welcome to our home. I am Loren, the Wyldwood, the elder of this village.” She stepped forward and placed a hand on Horith’s shoulder. “Who speaks for these hybrids?” she asked.

Jack turned and stole a glance at his team who displayed a mild shock at her calling them hybrids. Horith pointed to Jack. “The man called Thompson.”

Jack stepped forward and raised an open hand, a greeting he was taught that meant ‘I come in peace’ and was also the equiv
alent of an Elven handshake. “I am Chief Jack Thompson of the human hunters. We come to seek council with the Greater Elves.”

Loren observed his actions and nodded a slight bow to him. She raised her hand in mirror image and stated, “You are reco
gnized, Chief Jack Thompson. You and your men are welcomed to Gristwood.”

Jack bowed to Loren, the Wyldwood and she nodded her acknowledgement of his affirmation. With the formalities out of the way, she turned to Horith and Kalen once more, “Have the bakers and the cooks prepare for us a meal and bring the elde
rberry wine. We shall speak in council.”

Horith bowed to her and replied, “As you wish, my lady.”

Loren then turned to Jack and smiled. “You have paid me an honor by respecting our ways, Chief Jack Thompson.”

“The honor is ours, ma’am,” he replied. “And please, you can call me Jack. Or just Chief. It’s more of a nickname than a title anymore.”

She nodded. “Once we are in council, you may call me Loren if you wish. Council is very non-ceremonial. But out here, my people need for me to be more…proper.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

She turned and led them to a large round structure that looked very much like a beaver dam, but out of the water. It was made of thousands of individual sticks and branches in the shape of a dome, but with round windows surrounding the perimeter. An arched doorway led the way inside. The inner walls were plastered with a light brownish plaster that Jack assumed was an adobe earth mixture. Within its walls sound was deadened so that conversation didn’t carry out of the building well, but the windows allowed a nice cool breeze to flow through.

“This place feels almost magical, ma’am,” Jack noted. “It’s almost like stepping into a dream.”

She smiled at him and he felt a familiar tug in his chest. The same tug he felt when Nadia smiled at him. “Yes, it
is
magical. That is why nobody stumbles upon it from the outside world,” she said. “The only way to this place is through our portal.”

“That is amazing,” he said softly. “So where exactly
is
this place then?”

She smiled as she looked about her. “That is a difficult co
ncept to explain to someone who is not an elf.” She struggled to find the right words. “It is here upon the world, but not exactly in the same time as the rest of the world. It is between the now and the
not
now.”

Jack wasn’t grasping her line if thought. “Moved through time then?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly.” She paused and thought a moment. “It’s as if you are in your chair, but you are not in your chair entirely. Someone else could come along and sit in the same chair at the same time and never know you were there. You wouldn’t see that person, and that person would not see you, but you would both be in the same chair at the same time.”

Jack smiled and shook his head. “Okay, but what if one of us moved the chair? Would the other feel it?”

She frowned. “Perhaps that was not the best way to put it.”

“A different dimension?” Ronald Lamb asked her.

She gave him a puzzled look. “I’m not completely familiar with that term, but, that sounds close. If it means that we are here, but not here, and that others could be here and not know that we are here, then yes.”

Lamb and Jacobs looked at each other and shrugged. “Sounds like different dimensions to me,” Jacobs said.

“Alternate reality,” Tufo stated without looking up.

“Say again?” Donovan asked.

“Don’t any of you read Sci-Fi?” Tufo asked. They all shook their heads negatively. He sighed. “There are only so many dimensions you can work in. If this place was in a ‘different’ dimension, some part of it would be at least visible in the others. But an alternate reality? That works.”

Jack gave him a puzzled look. “How does that work?”

“The theory holds that there are an infinite number of universes all occupying the same space, or near space, and that for every person and every choice that there is, each time you make a choice, an alternate reality pops into being where that choice is made. If that theory were true at all, then somehow they found a doorway to one of them and live in it.” He looked at them and saw that they were all lost. He threw his hands in the air. “Let’s just go with ‘different dimension’, okay?”

“Either way,” Jack said, “its way cool in here. I love the whole atmosphere.”

“Thank you, Chief Jack. So do we,” Loren replied. “So, tell me why you seek our council.”

Jack took a deep breath and began the story as close to the beginning as he could. He laid out the entire story of the Sicarii and the threat of annihilation, his desire for dominion over the earth, enslavement of any race that could be enslaved and the squad’s plan for a coalition of forces with both the
Lamia Beastia
, the werewolves if they can be found and any other supernatural forces that they can find that will agree to aid in their struggle. He explained how they hoped to acquire the base in Nevada and lure the forces of darkness there and away from populated areas and he was sent there to see if the Greater Elves would be willing to assist in what might be the ultimate war of good versus evil.

To her credit, Loren remained still throughout his story and did not interrupt. Although her features belied her desire to have no part of it, her face also showed her fear at what would happen if they did nothing. By the end, her features were stone as she absorbed every word he said. She contemplated every possible outcome, weighing both the pros and cons. She knew that no matter how well hidden her village may be, a vampire as powe
rful and evil as the Sicarii would stop at nothing to find it and burn it as well.

Finally, she said, “While I cannot speak for all of the village elders, I will take your request to them.”

Jack reached out and took her hand. “Thank you for this. I know that wasn’t an easy decision to come to.”

“On the contrary, Chief Jack. It was the only decision I could make.”

8

Dominic’s eyes fluttered open and he gulped in air as if he had been suffocating. His arms flailed against an unseen opp
onent and he scrambled about in the ramshackle room until he realized he was alone again. He lay still on the stone floor, panting in the near darkness, on hands and knees, still gulping at the cool air. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the cool stone floor.

After a few moments, he staggered to his feet and shambled into the washroom and splashed water onto his face. He ran his hand across his cheeks and felt the stubble of his beard, assu
ming he had been captive for at least a week now, he stared at the darkening circles under his eyes. The lack of sleep due to the nightmares and the constant drilling of questions and mind-fucking by this twisted, dark son-of-a-bitch had him ready to cut his own throat.

Dom sat on the toilet and rested his head in his hands. He wished that he wasn’t so damned huge. He’d drown himself in the commode, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. The werewolf virus would find a way to bring him back, he was sure. The way that cuts and bruises healed on him was ridiculously fast, he was sure that even drowning would probably just be an experiment in pain.

Dom sighed and got up again, staggering back into the main room and collapsing to the mattress once more. This existence of his was so bad that he was seriously thinking of trying to rush the next guard to open the door and pray for a bullet to the brainpan. He wasted most of his time trying to sleep because of the perpetual darkness. His body was mostly healed, but they practically starved him. He was used to eating four times what a normal person ate, and they fed him scraps once a day. Barely enough to keep a church mouse alive and his energy stores were drained.

Dom wondered how much longer he could keep resisting the vampire. He had been mind-raped so many times now that he couldn’t remember what he had been forced to tell and what had been nightmares. He rolled over and faced the wall. The mental anguish and frustration tearing at his soul until he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to beat something. He lashed out and punched the wall in front of him and felt the bones in his hand crack, the pain shooting up his arm and into his shoulder. But he also felt something in the block wall give. Through the pain and electric shocks running through his arm and wrist, he forced himself to open his eyes and stare at the wall in the dim light. It wasn’t his imagination…the stone had moved, the cent
uries old mortar having dried out and giving way under his blow.

Dom shifted his weight and slid closer to the wall, wishing now he hadn’t punched the wall, but kicked it instead. He felt around the mortar line with his good hand and felt the mortar crumble away like dried mud between his fingers. Moving with renewed vigor he rolled off the mattress and grabbed the oil lamp and set it where he could see the block. It had recessed into the wall nearly three fourths of an inch. He knew that the wall was at least ten inches thick. It would be no easy feat to knock blocks out, but he was about to try.

He rolled onto his back and aimed his feet at the block and pushed with all of his might. The block resisted and barely a hiss of grinding mortar came to his sensitive ears as it shifted ever so slightly. He moved closer and placed his feet again pushing harder this time, resulting only in sliding himself across the stone floor. Dom knew the only way he would be able to do this would be to make some noise. He knew the risk was much higher and that he would be attracting attention to his actions, but it was the only way.

He repositioned himself and aimed his feet once more. With teeth clenched, he drew his legs to his chest and pushed out with all he had and slammed his booted feet against the stone and felt a bone jarring shock drive up his legs and into his spine. He paused and caught his breath, listening intently for any running feet or noise outside of his room. When he didn’t hear anybody, he felt around the block and was shocked to find it had moved at least another inch and a half. He moved closer, positioned hi
mself and kicked the block again, this time hearing the block slide further and feeling his feet slide into a hole in the wall. Dom rolled over and inspected the block. It was more than half way, the mortar having crumbled away and allowing the block to move more freely.

Dom knew that this opening wouldn’t be large enough for his huge frame to slip out. He’d have to remove the block next to it as well, so he positioned his feet against it as well and kicked with everything he had. The stone refused to budge. It was c
emented in place. He moved to the other side of the loose block and tried it and found that the mortar was loose and crumbling, some of it damp from outside moisture. He positioned his body and aimed his feet against this block and with a quick prayer kicked with all he had and both blocks shot out into the daylight, bathing the room with bright sunshine. Dom’s hand automatically flew up to shield his eyes and he forced himself not to shout with joy.

He allowed himself time to adjust to the brightness of the light before he placed the oil lamp back at the table and slipped over to the hole. Slipping his head out of the wall, he checked his location. Dom wanted to dance a jig as he realized that the wall he kicked out was an outer wall facing a hillside away from the facility. There were hedgerows below to help cushion his fall, but he still worried that in his emaciated condition, he might break something once he went out. He estimated the height at about twenty feet. Normally, not a problem, but in his weakened state, he worried if he would even be able to make the run to a populated area.

He checked one more time to ensure that nobody was on perimeter patrol and then slipped out feet first. As Dom’s upper body wormed its way out the hole, he grabbed the mattress on the floor and pulled it to the hole and did his best to prop it up with his wounded hand.
Better to block the hole should anybody check on me.
He thought to himself. He held himself aloft with his one good hand as he propped the mattress as best he was able, then using both hands, pushed away from the hole and landed deftly on his feet.
Just like old times.

Dom glanced to the sky to try to get his bearings, but the sun was at high noon. He worked his way to his right, hoping that his internal compass was right and it would lead him back to the entryway where all the vehicles were parked when he was captured during his first escape attempt. Staying low and close to the hedges so he could dive in for cover, he circled the large building until he came around to the entryway. His internal compass hadn’t failed him.

Dom slipped into the hedges and hugged the stone wall, working his way to what looked like a portcullis. He glanced inside and saw one lonely guard making slow, lazy rounds on the other side of the courtyard. Dom slipped lower in the hedges and waited until the guard went around a corner before he dared sneak another peek from around the hedge. He spied two vehicles. One was a Fiat and the other a Mercedes van.

Dom waited another few moments to see if the guard was going to come rushing back before he slipped over to the Fiat. There weren’t any keys in it. He slipped over to the van and the keys were sitting in the cup holder. Dom grabbed the keys, slipped back to the Fiat and unscrewed the cap from the tire valve stem and using the keys, held down the center pin on the valve to allow the air out of the tire. His jaw clenched at the loud hiss of air escaping the tire, knowing that the guard would come running back at any moment, guns blazing, but the courtyard remained silent save the escaping air from the Fiat’s tire.

When the tire rested firmly on the ground, Dom slipped back to the van and jumped behind the wheel. His mind jumped back to his first escape attempt and he expected a gun to be jabbed under his chin or pressed to his temple at any moment.

His hands shook as he fumbled with the keys and he nearly dropped them as he slipped the key into the ignition and started the van. As soon as the diesel engine erupted, he threw the van into gear and tore out of the courtyard and past the portcullis. He turned the van onto the nearest road and let loose a whoop of victory!

He had only gotten a few hundred yards down the road when the passenger side mirror exploded and he heard the thump-thump-thump of bullets hitting the back and sides of the van. He floored the accelerator and concentrated on keeping the van on the road. He kept checking his remaining mirrors for any other vehicles that might be following him, but he didn’t see any.

At the first turn off, he pulled the van off the main road and began working his way away from the stone prison he was at in a zigzag pattern. He didn’t want to make it easy for his captors to find him again, but he wanted to put as much distance as he could between them.

He checked the fuel gauge and he had a little over half a tank. Dom continued to check for pursuers and when he felt safe that there weren’t any, he slowed the van and pulled over. He checked the van for anything that he could use. There was a pack of clove gum, some cigarettes, matches, a 9MM in the glove box…that could be useful. He tucked the weapon into his waistband and continued digging.

He went to the back of the van and saw a pine box that looked suspiciously like a coffin. Dom’s lip curled into a snarl as he worked his way back to the front of the panel van and exited the vehicle. He went around back and opened the rear cargo door. He grabbed the long box and jerked it out of the van, i
gnoring the shooting pains in his hand. He grabbed the lid of the box and ripped it off, hoping that the sun’s rays would instantly toast the box’s occupant, only to find the box was filled with dirt.

Dom stood there panting alongside the road, dirt spilled out alongside it, feeling a mix of emotions that he couldn’t quite e
xplain. He wanted to scream, to rip something apart. He picked up the box of dirt and threw it with all of his might into the ditch alongside the road and screamed at the top of his lungs. Exhausted both physically and mentally, he fell to his knees and sat there, staring at the broken pine box, its contents scattered across the roadway and the ditch, feeling like he had been robbed of some small victory.

Finally, he pulled himself to his feet and continued his search of the van. He found various tools and maps. He found a change of clothes for someone half his size. He found bottles of water and a half eaten bag of pretzels. He wolfed down the pre
tzels and washed it down with a bottle of water, feeling every drop run through his veins as he took the wheel back and drove again looking for some semblance of civilization.

After twenty minutes of driving, he happened upon a gas station, a telephone kiosk on the outside wall. Dom pulled up alongside the station and stepped out to the kiosk. He picked up the receiver and dialed the prefix for an international operator.

As soon as she picked up, he nearly cried. “Operator, I need to make a collect international call.”

“What number please?”

“It’s to the United States. Area Code 405.”

Dom gave the number for the command duty officer and his name. He waited breathlessly while she put the call through and he felt the phone shaking in his hands. He wasn’t sure if it was his nerves or if it was from his lack of eating, but he couldn’t ever remember being so happy as when Lieutenant Gregory came over the line after accepting the charges.

“Dominic? Is it really you?”

“Yes, sir, LT. It’s me,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Where the hell are you? Hold on, I got to tell somebody—”

“No! Don’t go anywhere. They may be right on my ass,” Dom said. “I don’t even know where the hell I am. Can you trace this call? Can you send somebody for me?” he practically begged.

“I’m already on it, buddy,” Gregory said. “I can have somebody from Team Two there before you know it,” he replied excitedly. Dom could hear activity in the background and knew that the LT had him on speaker.

“Tell them to bring some food, will ya? I’m starving, man.”

Gregory laughed, “When aren’t you?” he said. “Maybe they can stop by and get you a dozen cheeseburgers at McDonald’s or something.”

“Oh, man, that sounds so fucking good right now. You don’t even know.”

“I’ve got your location, Dominic, and we’re sending your coordinates to Team Two as we speak. They’ve been actively looking for you since you went missing,” he said. “Man…have you been missed.”

Dom sighed. “I hear ya, brother. I hear ya. Do me a favor and tell Apollo that I’m ready to come home.”

“I’ll definitely do that,” Gregory said. “In fact, knowing him, he may insist on flying out there and escorting your butt home himself.”

“I wouldn’t mind that one bit,” Dom laughed. “The way my luck has been running, I probably need him to.”

“Dom, we just got word from Team Two. They’re thirty minutes out from you. Can you hold that long?”

Dom looked down the street and had no idea what traffic was friendly and what wasn’t. “Honestly, I have no idea. What direction will they be coming from? Maybe I can meet them. I have a van…”

“They’ll be coming from your north. If this trace is correct, you’re at a filling station near Benevento. They’re coming at you at full speed and should be able to meet you at Isernia. Give me a description of your vehicle so I can forward it to them.”

“It’s a white Mercedes panel van. No markings,” Dom said.

Gregory was silent a moment. “Yeah, like there aren’t ten thousand of those in Italy.”