Something of the Night (12 page)

Chapter
Twenty-One

Jacob Cain stirred. The hollow drumming of the rain
hit something directly above him. He opened one eye to find himself stretched
out on a makeshift cot. Hanging to his right was a small light, which
illuminated the tent from one corner to the next. Directly to his right he
found his handgun, lying on a crooked table. The table stood on two foldable
skids instead of legs: US Army issue, he realised instantly.

“Hey, you’re awake,” someone
said.

He tilted his head, but the
movement caused the canvas walls to swell towards him.

“Take it easy, you got tagged
pretty hard.”

Jacob took a deep breath
before opening his eyes. The tent maintained its shape. “Where am I?”

“Safe.”

A large object swam into
view. “You?” Jacob quizzed, looking at a large woolly face. The guy appeared to
be dressed in either an oversized flight-suit or baggy overalls.

“Sorry, Pal.
Misunderstanding, that’s all,” Ben said. “Didn’t expect to meet one of my own
with a set of those.”

Jacob reached up and felt the
ceramic fangs. “It’s a long story,” he responded. His hand dropped away and his
attention turned to the weapon on the table.

“You want this?” Ben asked.
He reached over and took the firearm. “Here,” he said, handing it over.

The handgun slid into the
palm of Jacob’s hand. The weight of the thing told him it was still fully
loaded. “Okay, so you’re not about to kill me,” he said, resting the weapon
against his chest.

“Not today,” Ben said dryly.

“Okay, so what are you about
to do?”

“That depends on you, Jacob,”
Ben said.

Jacob’s eyebrow rose.
“Really?”

“Yeah,” Ben replied. “If
you’re up to it, I’d like to show you something.”

“Show me what?”

“Come, take a look.” The guy
extended his huge hand. Jacob took the offer and felt himself pulled from the
cot. As he stood, his head missed the roof of the tent by mere inches. Had Ben
not been bent over, he would have probably cleared the canvas by at least a
foot, maybe a foot-and-a-half.

“Seeing as I’ve already been
introduced, what’s your name, friend?” Jacob asked.

The guy’s large hand formed
itself above his right eyebrow, four straight fingers and one bent thumb.
“First Lieutenant Ben J. Williams - United States Air Force, Sir!”

“Christ, the Military… ”
Jacob moaned.

“Retired,” Ben said. “You can
call me Ben.”

“Okay… Ben, what do you want
to show me?” Jacob asked cautiously.

“Let’s go.” Ben gestured
towards the tent entrance.

Jacob followed the guy
outside. The rain had finally stopped, but the air still felt charged with
static electricity. They were camped just off to the side of the highway.
Through the dark, he could see the Buick and the tanker-truck.

“Neat trick,” he commented.

“Sorry?” Ben asked.

“With the tanker. It’s a
shame the Buick’s drier than a camel’s hoof.”

“What is it with you people?
Always thinking of fuel. No imagination.”

A frown creased the tracker’s
brow. Ben offered him a quick smile. He placed both his hands on Jacob’s
shoulders and then forced him to turn on his heels. The breath caught in the
tracker’s throat. “Dear God…” he croaked.

A huge shadow rose up from
directly behind the tent. Four long rotor-blades drooped down from the top of
the magnificent object, and the tip of one reached over the tent to stop just
inches above Jacob’s head. A slim tail stretched out towards the darkness,
hiding a second tail rotor. Soft green lights from an instrument panel
illuminated the two-manned cockpit, and a red beacon flashed over the door to
the main cabin, which added a hint of dread to the incredible sight. It wasn’t
the fact that Jacob was looking upon a fully working helicopter that made his
head spin either, but rather, the make! As if pulled from a distant memory and
an even more distant conflict, the Huey sat there like some majestic
mythological beast.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Ben
said.

“Dear God...” Jacob repeated.

“Wait,” Ben continued. “You
haven’t seen the best of it.”

A foolish grin formed across
Jacob’s face. “Show me,” he said, and followed the former soldier. Drawing
nearer to the aircraft, he saw the words U.S.
AIR
FORCE stencilled across the
hull. Directly above the lettering was a large blue icon, which Jacob guessed
to be that of an eagle.

“This can’t be,” he managed
to say.

“It ain’t a trick of the
eye,” Ben responded.

“But how?” Jacob asked,
open-mouthed.

“Me and Black Bird go back a
long way,” Ben said wistfully.

“How long? This thing must be
ancient.”

“Wait – no,” Ben replied,
with a shake of his head. “You’re thinking of ‘
Nam
, right?”

“Must be,” Jacob said.

A soft chuckle escaped from
the large guy’s hidden lips. “Think again. The US Army remanufactured the old
UH-1N as the UH-1Y, at the beginning of the new millennium.”

“Really?” Jacob said. “And
what’s that mean?”

“It means this baby didn’t
come into service until 2003 at the earliest. This
baby
has been
modified to withstand a 23mm round direct to the main and tail rotors.” His
hand patted the fuselage with loving affection.

Jacob looked back blankly.

Ben continued, “Look, the Hueys
that flew missions towards the end of
Vietnam
were susceptible to ground-fire. So, the Army added
additional armour-plating to the hull and replaced the old aluminium rotors
with special composite ones that can withstand a direct hit. It’d take something
with a real punch to knock this baby out of the sky.”

“Impressive,” Jacob remarked.

“There’s more,” Ben said.
“Follow me.” He led the tracker round to the front of the aircraft. “This is a
fully integrated glass cockpit with night-vision goggle compatibility. Combine
this with the TopOwl Helmet and you’ve got yourself advanced visor projection,
with image intensifiers and forward looking infrared. That’s the good news. The
bad news is: the satellite communications interface and modem are useless. We’ve
lost navigation and the weapons management system too. Still, we’ve got the
GAU-17A machinegun up front – that puppy fires 3,000 rounds per minute – and
two 0.50 Brownings aft and starboard. The GAU-17A is a simple point and fire,
whereas the Brownings require individual gunners to control them.”

“Wait a minute,” Jacob said.
“If you’re not looking for fuel and you’ve got all this firepower, then what
the hell is it you
are
looking for?”

Ben placed his hands over his
hips. “Have you any idea how heavy the Brownings alone weigh?”

“No… ”

Ben remained silent for a
second as his mind flicked through the flight manual that was stored somewhere
inside his head. “A lot,” he answered, unable to find the exact details.

“So?”

“So, we need mobile munitions
to accomplish our directive.”

“What directive?”

“To exterminate the legions
of undead.”

“What, with this?” Jacob
asked, holding up his handgun.

“No, stupid,” Ben chided.
“But we need them to help us salvage what we
do
need.”

“Which is?”

Ben’s face turned sombre.
“Man’s last hope.”

“Man’s last hope?” Jacob
repeated.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ben
confirmed.

“What are you talking about?”

An exaggerated sigh escaped
from Ben’s lips, “No imagination,” he said, with a mournful shake of his head.
“Look, bombs and bullets may well kill the vampires, but what we need is
something that’ll wipe out an entire platoon in one go.”

“But what about this?” Jacob
asked, his hand resting against the barrel of the Browning. The thing looked
deadly with its long black snout.

“Okay, the GAU-17A machinegun
is easy to use, you just point Black Bird’s nose in the direction you want to
shoot and pulled the trigger. It’s like cutting grass; you could do it with
your eyes closed. But these Brownings, they take a considerable amount of
skill. Have you any idea how difficult it is to hit a moving target when you’re
two hundred feet in the air and cruising at eighty mph?”

“No… ”

“Very!” Ben exclaimed. “And I
know, because I’m good with these things.”

“Wait,” Jacob said. “How the
hell can you fly this thing
and
shoot that?”

“Fly?” Ben questioned.

“Wait a minute, you’re not
the pilot?”

“Hell no.”

“Then who is?”

Ben sighed again but this
time he seemed genuinely distressed. “Now therein lies the problem.”

“What problem?”

“The problem, Jacob, is you
shot our only pilot.”

They were unexpectedly joined
by a group of three other people. A short woman hobbled over to them, the one
Jacob had shot, and both Nick and Hutson quickly followed her.

“This is all very cosy,” the
woman said, limping up to the two men.

Ben looked suddenly
terrified. “Honey, I was just showing Black Bird to our friend here.”

“Friend?” she cursed, and
stuck her injured leg out.

Jacob raised his hands. “Listen,
Ben’s explained the misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?”

“You attacked us, remember?”
Jacob reminded her.

She folded her arms across
her chest. “Attacked?”

Both Jacob and Ben squirmed
under her gaze.

Hutson grinned.

“Honey,” Ben began, “I guess
we have to take some responsibility for the whole thing. I mean, it would’ve
worked had you and Nick kept your heads down.”

Her eyebrows rose.

Ben’s defence crumbled.

“No harm done?” Jacob said, and
then he cringed, expecting a mouthful in response.

The anger eventually melted
from her face and a softer expression took its place. “I guess not,” she conceded.

Ben’s hand rested against
Jacob’s shoulder. They’d been spared, for now.

“The name’s Jacob Cain,” the
tracker quickly added, holding out his hand.

“Tate Williams,” the woman
said. “Captain Tate Williams - pilot of this bird.”

“Jeez… ” Jacob moaned. “More
military.”

From behind, Hutson said,
“Wait… That means you two are?”

Captain Tate Williams turned
to the woman and shook her head dismally. “It’s a hell of a world we live in,
isn’t it?”

“I guess,” the lieutenant
agreed, unable to believe the small woman before her was the wife of the huge
guy at Jacob Cain’s side.

Finally, Tate accepted the
tracker’s hand and, with a wink of her eye, she said, “No harm done, I guess.”

“Good,” Jacob responded.

They released hands.

Ben breathed out a huge sigh
of relief.

“What’s this great oaf been
telling you?” Tate asked.

“That you need more of
these,” Jacob replied, showing her his handgun.

“We do indeed,” she said,
with a nod.

“But why?”

She paused for a second.
“Because where we need to go, we’re going to need plenty of firepower.”

“What? Even more than this?”
Jacob asked, and his hand fell against the cool metal of the Browning.

“You haven’t explained?” Tate
asked Ben.

“I was just getting to it,”
Ben replied.

“What have you been doing all
this time?” she demanded.

Ben shuffled awkwardly from
one boot to the other. “I was just about getting to it.”

“Getting to what, exactly?”
Jacob asked, his patience about worn out.

“Jacob,” Tate began, “we need
that kind of firepower because we’re going to
New York City
.”

“What! Why?”

“Because there’s something
there we need. Something we all
need,” she told him.

“Which is?” Jacob asked. A
heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He turned to find himself starring into Ben’s
face. The big guy’s face had become deadly serious.

“The Ray of Hope,” Ben
announced.

Chapter
Twenty-Two

A number of people were seated within the control
room, situated around a large table, which occupied the centre of the room. At
the head of the table sat Major Patterson, who looked uncharacteristically
rumpled and puffy-eyed. Directly behind him stood two fully armed soldiers,
both carrying machine guns. To Patterson’s right, Lieutenant Samuel Farr, an
ageing grey-haired man, sat with his hands clasped tightly together. He looked
deeply troubled. Opposite him was an empty chair, its usual occupant missing.
Adjacent to the empty chair, Squirrel fidgeted awkwardly, his required presence
a mystery. Alice Hammond sat beside him. At the bottom end of the table, the
doctor and Sarah sat together, leaving three chairs between them and the others
who were in attendance.

“Elliot – Daniel,” Patterson
greeted, as the two brothers entered the room. “Sit,” he said, gesturing
towards the side Lieutenant Farr occupied. Both quickly took their seats.
Elliot caught his breath when
Alice
turned towards him and flashed him an enthusiastic
smile. He squeezed
Alice
’s hand in a show of affection.

Squirrel squirmed in
discomfort.

Daniel offered Sarah a brief
nod. She replied with a similar gesture. The doctor looked as if he wanted to be
anywhere but here. His eyes shifted nervously from one face to the next.

Patterson stood. “It seems
we’re all present.” He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. “We
received grave news yesterday with regard to Captain Banantyne. Unfortunately,
he fell in battle while out rescuing our two colleagues here.” One hand swept
towards Alice and the mechanic.

Groaning, Squirrel now
understood his attendance had been called upon for an ass-chewing.

Alice
bowed her head respectfully.

Patterson continued, “Unfortunately,
Father appears sick, so rather than the expected memorial, I’d like you all to
bow your heads for a minute’s silence and offer a prayer for our fallen
comrade.”

One by one, heads fell.

Daniel took his time. He
started to lower his head, but then, noticed the two guards behind Patterson
had done the same. Idiots! With great care, he slipped the machinegun off his
shoulder and let it rest across his lap.

The minute continued to tick
by with agonising slowness.

Daniel looked from one face
to the next. All looked grief-stricken; well, all but the woman at the end of
the table. For, although she had her head bowed and her eyes closed like the
rest of the group, her lips appeared to be curled up slightly, as if she was
somewhat amused.

Daniel frowned. Admittedly,
she had never met Captain Banantyne, but still, the group’s feeling of loss was
tangible, and even she should have felt some of their sadness wash over her. Her
eyes opened and she turned her head towards him. She smiled briefly before
dropping her head again.

Daniel’s eyes widened. It had
been such a fleeting gesture he could not be sure of the intentions behind the
smile, or even if his eyes had deceived him. Had it been a sympathetic look of
unity, or something much more malignant?

“Okay,” Patterson began,
raising his head, “let us begin.” He took his seat and then spread his arms out
flat over the table. He sat poised this way as he looked at the two newcomers
at the foot of the table. “I’d like to start by officially welcoming our two
new guests, Sarah and Doctor Miller.” The Major’s hand rose and he swept it in
their direction. A few moments of awkward welcoming followed.

“Now, down to business,”
Patterson said. “As you are all aware, Ezekiel and his brethren are soon to be
within striking distance.”

Squirrel coughed nervously.
“You mean to strike at us?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Jeez …” the mechanic moaned.

“But what of Jacob Cain’s
plan?”
Alice
enquired.

The Major clenched his fist.
He needed Jacob now more than he ever had. “Jacob appears to have found a
possible weakness in the vampire’s hierarchy.”

“He bargains the safety of
everyone in this complex with a foolish plan. What if he’s captured?”
Lieutenant Farr snarled.

Patterson’s hand fell onto
the ageing soldier’s shoulder, silencing the complaint. “My old friend, I don’t
believe Jacob would allow himself to be captured... alive.” The finality of the
statement hung in the air for a second like the dimming chime of a bell.

“So what do we do?” Farr
asked.

Major Patterson shifted his
attention to Elliot. “We do nothing.”

An audible gasp sounded.

“But what about Hannah?”
Alice
asked.
Once, a long time ago, Hannah had taught a younger
Alice
how to
salvage and survive
.

Two hands fell onto Elliot’s
shoulders. “We do nothing. But I need one brave individual to find Jacob and
tell him our news of Hannah.”

Elliot looked up and said,
“No need to ask. When do you want me to leave?”

“Are you sure, son?”
Patterson asked. “It’s a dangerous undertaking.”

“Yeah,” Elliot nodded, “I’m
sure.”

“Thank you.”

Daniel twitched for a second,
himself desperate for the thrill of the chase, but he stayed quiet, for he
already knew he had become the Major’s unofficial personal bodyguard. And,
instead of complaining, he tightened his grip on the weapon in his lap and silently
swore to himself that as long as he drew breath nothing would stand between him
and the Major’s safety.

Elliot jumped to his feet,
ready to begin this most important of missions.

From the corner of his eye,
Daniel saw the doctor flinch, as if the sudden movement had been a precursor to
violence. Daniel’s eyes narrowed. There was something about the guy, and the
woman, that he simply did not trust.

The Major returned to the
head of the table, sat and looked from one face to the next. Then, with a wave
of his hand, he signalled for Elliot to retake his seat. “Believe me, it came
as a great shock to hear of Hannah’s continued imprisonment.” He nodded towards
Sarah in a gesture of appreciation. “And I’d like nothing more than to send our
entire army of soldiers northwards in an attempt to rescue her. But the simple
truth is we can’t afford to launch a full attack on Ezekiel’s turf. We wouldn’t
last a day against such numbers. I love my daughter dearly, but even that has
to come second to the survival of this colony.”

“So Elliot’s expected to
travel northwards, alone, well over fifty miles, to deliver a message?”
Alice
asked.
Her anxiety had begun to grow, and now she was at risk of criticising the
Major’s leadership.

“
Alice
, I’ll be
fine,” Elliot reassured her.

Her eyes filled with tears.
“No you won’t! How will you be?”

He reached over the table,
taking her hand. “I’ve travelled further alone, and I’ve always come back.
Haven’t I?”

“I guess,” she managed to
say.

“And I’ll come back this
time. I promise.”

“You’d better.”

“I will, you have my word on
it.” Elliot looked to Patterson then and asked, “So, when do I leave?”

“Immediately.”

“Okay,” he said, and stood.

“Your orders are clear,” Farr
began. “Notify Jacob Cain of Hannah’s situation and then return here immediately.
We need all able bodies for the inevitable attack.”

Elliot nodded, although at
that point he wasn’t sure exactly how he would react once he’d relayed the
news. For one thing, Hannah Cain was his aunt. And, if Jacob required his help,
then he knew in his heart that he would not be able to just turn his back and
walk away.

“There may not be an attack
if Jacob succeeds,” Squirrel piped up, hopefully.

“What do you mean?”
Alice
asked.

“If Jacob does kill Ezekiel
then they’ll be leaderless, right?” he explained.

“If only, Son,” Patterson
said. “They are as desperate as we are. They’ll come, whether led by one such
as Ezekiel or by another.”

For the first time Sarah
spoke. “Still, it would be an immeasurable blow to his army’s morale if they
should wake to find their leader’s head on a spike.” She turned to Daniel and
winked.

“I guess…” Patterson
conceded. The woman’s choice of words had made the hairs at the back of his
neck stand.

“I’ll bet Jacob will keep
that in mind, when he displays Ezekiel’s head as a trophy,” Elliot told her.

Her face became a mask of
joy. “Yeah, sounds good to me.”

Elliot bowed his head
slightly, signalling his retreat.

“Wait!” the doctor called, as
Elliot withdrew. He stood and quickly moved towards the leader of the group.
Underneath the table, Daniel’s weapon traced his progress. “There’s something
else you need to know,” Miller said.

Sarah visibly tensed; this
was unexpected, unplanned,
unrehearsed
.

Doctor Miller offered the
woman a quick, nervous look before summoning sufficient will to continue.
“There’s something else I must tell you.”

Elliot paused at the
entrance.

The doctor appeared to waver,
as if having second thoughts, but then he cleared his throat and began to
speak. “This woman you talk about – Hannah, it isn’t quite as simple as it may
seem.”

Patterson’s look of steely
determination seemed to evaporate instantly. “What is it?” he asked. Anxiety
had clawed its way into his words, making them sound fragile.

The doctor shuffled
nervously. He felt two eyes burning into him. He cleared his throat. “Your
plan, Jacob Cain’s plan… there is a major flaw.”

Elliot returned to the table.
“What flaw?”

“Ezekiel keeps a boy close to
him at all times, a young boy, a human shield.”

“We know about those who keep
the undead safe,” Patterson responded, “and I’m sure Jacob will do everything
in his power to keep him from harm. But there are children here also who will
suffer. We have to think about the greater good here.”

“You still don’t understand,”
the doctor said.

“Understand what?” the Major
quizzed.

Doctor Miller opened his
mouth but words failed to form. He took another quick, fleeting look towards
the woman, appeared to almost falter, and then found his voice, “Ezekiel’s boy
… he’s no ordinary child. He’s Jacob Cain’s son!”