Specters: A Monster Squad Novel - 8 (9 page)

Chad sighed heavily and shrugged. “Let’s just say I had a bit of an epiphany. You were right.” He tossed the gear bags up onto the table and began going through them. “I won’t argue with you sidelining me, but I owe you an apology.” He turned to the rest of Second Squad. “I owe
all
of you one. And when the time comes that you’re ready to let me train with the squad again, I look forward to it.”

Donnie chuckled and nudged the newbie. “Who are you and what did you do to our McKenzie?”

Mac took the ribbing in stride. “Yeah, yeah. I know I was being a prick.” He stowed the major’s gear and turned to his own bag. “I just had a bit of a wakeup call, that’s all.”

Dom approached him from behind. “So what did it take to wake you up?”

Chad stiffened slightly and he gently lay the spare magazines on the table. “I think seeing how quickly things can fall apart out there…how much we’re needed to operate as a
team
for this to work.” He nodded as he spoke. “I think that woke me up more than anything.”

“So what happened out there, Mac?”

Chad dumped the rest of the gear out while he tried to find the words. “I know I’ve been busting on Sullivan pretty hard. But seeing him on his knees with a pistol to his head? Yeah, that woke me up.”

Dom clasped him on the shoulder. “I hate that it took that to snap you back to it, but I’m glad you’re back. We hit the trainer first thing tomorrow. Be there.” Dom turned and headed for the rear stairwell.

Chad watched him for just a moment before turning back to his chore. All the while, he kept thinking,
If anybody is going to hold a gun to that bastard’s head, it will be me.

*****

Bigby backed the stolen pickup to the smaller storage locker. He knew there wasn’t near as much hardware inside this one as the larger one, but it gave him something to work with. America might be overflowing with firearms, but you simply can’t walk into any gun store, plop down money and buy fully automatic, military grade weapons.

He kicked open the door to the storage locker and loaded the two crates. He lifted the lid on one and shook his head. “More fuckin’ Sigs. What is it with these South Americans and their Sigs?” He slid the box further into the truck then pulled the door shut on the locker. Barely enough ammo to run through half the hardware he had, he sat behind the wheel and tapped at his jaw. Regular rounds will hurt like hell and take a while to heal, but silver kills. What to do, what to do?

He put the truck into gear and eased out of the storage rental. He hated the idea of trying to trade weapons for ammunition, and where would he find silver ammo? He pulled out and followed the main road to the interstate onramp. He wasn’t sure where he was going just yet, but he knew he wanted to get away from the city.

He took I44 and headed south of town. Why it wasn’t called south, he couldn’t say…but that was the direction the compass stated.

About twenty minutes outside of the city, he saw an exit for Newcastle and Tuttle. “Newcastle? Here in the middle of nowhere?” he chuckled to himself and took the exit. It was nothing like he had hoped. Little more than a double row of storefronts and businesses, residential areas packed in behind it all.

He cruised through the town slowly and found a cheap looking hotel near the southern edge. “This is as good a place as any.”

He pulled the truck in and did a quick once over in the mirror. With a shrug he hopped from the cab and entered the small place. He had stripped a wad of hundreds from Sheridan’s stashed money and shoved it into his pocket. He arranged to rent a room for two weeks and paid in advance. A few inquiries told him where the best diners were and that he’d have to drive a bit to find any place that sold ammunition. At least there was a small drug store nearby. He could pick up what he needed to make the chlorine gas there.

Big backed the truck to the room door and entered slowly. The room wasn’t much, but it would provide shelter from the weather, had cold and slightly less cold running water and a sink.

He unpacked the two crates on the spare bed and locked the door behind him. Taking one more glance out the window, he shut the curtains and laid down on the bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable he’d ever slept in, but it wasn’t the worst either, by far.

He sighed heavily as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, visions of the Monster Squad choking on poison gas dancing in his head.

*****

“You need to regain your strength.”

“I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead. Do you think that being the queen of this world will allow me much time for rest?” Lilith pushed away from Samael and tried to head for the door. Her legs gave out and she began to fall. He was there to catch her before she ever got close.

“You nearly died in the attack. If it had not been for angelic healing, you would be dead.”

She turned her eyes to stare into his. “You healed me?”

Samael lowered his eyes, a slight shake of his head as he carried her back to her bed. “I was too weak.” He laid her down carefully and pulled the blanket up over her. “Azazel appeared to me once again while we rested in the mountains. He had to heal me as well.”

She tried to sit up, concern painted across her features. “You were injured?”

“They had angelic weapons.” Samael sat on the floor next to her, his head still well above hers. “They also had a Nephilim in their midst.”

“Impossible. The Nephilim all died in the great flood.”

“Apparently Rafael decided he needed one of his own seed set to guard the cache of weapons left here on earth.”

Lilith stared at him, her eyes wide. “Angelic weapons left here were guarded by a Nephilim?” Her anger rose as the realization set in. “We wouldn’t have needed the hunters or the elves. We could have honed in on the Nephilim.”

“Had I known he was here…perhaps.” Samael shook his massive head. “But he was right there in our midst, and I could not sense him.”

“He was warded!” Her eyes were large as she smiled at him. “Another of your kind has been practicing the craft!” she cackled as she laughed which soon led to a coughing fit.

“Calm yourself my love.” Samael stroked her long, dark hair. “You need to rest. The day of reckoning is coming for the Nephilim and his human hunters.”

She raised her hand and grasped his arm. “What did he want?”

The Fallen one gave her a confused look. “The Nephilim? He wanted my head, of course.”

“No, not him. Azazel. What did he want?”

Samael sighed heavily as he continued to stroke her hair. “He came to implore…that we drop our crusade. He warned that many would die and that it was foreseen that we would not succeed.”

She stiffened slightly under the blanket, her body shivering uncontrollably. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I did not believe his lies. That we would not be deterred.” His eyes met hers and she was not happy.

“Why did you tell him that? You could have lied to him and told him that we would quit. It would get heaven off our trail until our task was completed.”

Samael gave her a soft smile. “They would see through the lie. They know the future. They would know that we were not giving up.”

Her grip on his arm tightened. “They know the future?”

He nodded. “Of course they do.”

She paled and gave him a worried look. “Then we are destined to fail?”

He patted her hand. “No, of course not. They just want us to stop because their love for the humans is so strong. They do not wish you to rule over them.”

“How can you be certain?” She fought to sit up and stared at him. “I cannot take another eternity as a phantom. Without my body and soul together, I am lost.”

He shushed her and gently pushed her back down into the bed. “We will not fail.” He tucked the blanket back under her chin and gave her a smile. “We cannot fail. Remember? The light bearer has condoned our actions.”

“I do not trust your brother.” The fear was evident in her eyes. “He was the one who allowed me to be tortured, drawn and quartered, the pieces sent to the four corners of the—”

“Shh.” He cut her off. “That was then. Now we have a purpose to serve.” He lifted her hand and kissed it gently. “He would not have us do this if it were not foreseen.”

She nodded slightly, but even Samael could tell that she was not convinced. And if he were honest with her, neither was he.

*****

Ingram sat across from Director Jameson’s desk. “Where is he now?”

Jameson smiled. “Oh, he’s on his way. Just like you said he’d do, he’s headed straight to them.”

Ingram leaned back and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Are you sure this is such a good idea?”

Jameson gave him a creepy smile. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t have baited him into it if I weren’t.”

Ingram considered the possibilities. “The gladiators haven’t even been field tested yet.”

Jameson nodded, the creepy smile broadening. “Ah…but, Robert, if everything goes as planned, they will be in just a few days. Then it won’t matter if these monstrosities come looking for them. They won’t like what they find.”

Ingram swiveled back and forth nervously in the chair. “I’d feel a lot better about this if they were tested and proven battle ready.”

“They’ll be fine.” Jameson reached for a remote and clicked it. A small white screen dropped from the ceiling and imagery from a satellite came up. “You do realize I’ve had other techs and analysts besides Stevens watching them, right? They intercepted a group of fangers just last night. Met up with them right about here.” He pointed to a spot on the satellite map with a laser pointer. “They said they were ‘good guys’ just heading north to escape the vampire council.” He chuckled as he spoke.

“Let me guess, they allowed them to go?”

“Oh yeah. They convinced these Dudley Do-Gooders that they weren’t a threat and voila! Instant free pass.”

“How do you know all this? Do you have a man on the inside?” Ingram gave him a questioning glare.

“Of course not. No, they’re using standard military encryptions. Every word of their transmissions were scrambled, but of course, we have the code to unscramble it. I had just finished reading the transcript before you arrived.” He tossed a stapled bundle of papers to him. “Your copy.”

Ingram gave him a dirty look. “This might have been nice to know before you started your dog-and-pony show.”

Jameson chuckled. “Maybe, but it certainly takes away from the ‘wow’ factor when I show how the trick is done, first.”

Ingram flipped through the pages. “Okay, so they gave a free pass to a bunch of fangers. And this means what to us?”

Jameson punched up the satellite images and focused in. Numerous freshly dug graves could be seen in between the trees. “The fangers had no place to go, so they went to ground. I have my analysts keeping a watchful eye on this group.” He pointed to the sheer numbers of dirt piles. “I would think that big a fanger party would be a pretty good field test for the gladiators, don’t you?”

Ingram sat back and studied the image on the screen. “There’s got to be over a hundred earth piles.”

“Those are the ones we can see.” Jameson’s creepy grin was returning.

“So, after we do our final checks, you want to send them straight out into…this?”

Jameson leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his head. “I see no reason why not. I think it would be the perfect test.”

“Over a hundred fangers against our gladiator corps.” Ingram was shaking his head. “You’re nuts.”

“You don’t think they can handle it?” He leaned forward and gave him a curious stare.

“Possibly, but right off the bat? There’s only twelve of them.” Ingram stood and stepped closer to the satellite image. “I understand wanting to put them into real world situations, but this isn’t a test by fire, this is…this is suicide.”

“So, you don’t think they can handle it?” Jameson was nodding his head. “Perhaps I was wrong about your program.”

Ingram spun on him. “This program is in its infancy. You’re wanting to send it off to college on the first day. I think you’re expecting them to bite off a hell of a lot more than they can chew.”

Jameson stood and pointed to the lighter spots scattered around the area. “Do you see all of these lighter areas, here, here, here…all of them?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Those were attacking fangers. A six-man team of monsters,
without armor
, killed all of these. They had new recruits in their ranks as well.”

Jameson stepped aside while Ingram stepped closer and counted the number of ash piles. “Are you sure these are dead fangers?”

“I’m certain. Go back to the first pages of the transcript.” Jameson turned and took his seat again. “Now, it is true that they could have been over run, but with the armor your boys have, those animals could chew on them for a week and never get through that silver reinforced Kevlar.” He tapped his desk with the laser pointer. “And you also need to remember how allergic these sons of bitches are to silver. As long as the supplier in Italy can still get us the silver ammo, your boys should be good. It will literally be like shooting fish in a barrel.”