The Ancient Breed (14 page)

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Authors: David Brookover

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Horror, #General, #Thrillers

BOOK: The Ancient Breed
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The two vanished from the motel room just as someone rapped quietly on Crow’s door. After several attempts at rousing Crow, Lisa Anders returned to her motel room, rummaged through her purse, and found Neo Doss’s card. Nick wasn’t at his office or his home, so Neo was her last chance. It was imperative that she speak with Nick as soon as possible. He needed to be at the construction site tomorrow morning when Sheriff Berger, Russ McKutchen, and his crew uncovered the fountain of youth.

15

T

obias Simpkins slammed the hard copy of the AP Internet newswire onto his desk, hit the intercom button, and demanded that Grant Donovan hightail it to his office at once. Grant burst into Simpkin’s office seconds later.

“What’s eating you?” Grant asked breathlessly.

“Have you heard how our little Florida operation went last night?”

“As a matter a fact, I haven’t,” Grant replied. “Have you?”

“Take a gander at this.” Tobias stuffed the AP news story into his awaiting hand. It detailed the brutal slayings of two construction site saboteurs and sensationalized the discovery of monstrous footprints at the crime scene. Speculation concerning the creatures’ identity ran wild.

Grant scanned it and crumpled the paper. “Son of a bitch!”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“We’ve got to move fast now. Hollingworth’s
perfect
mud hole is the talk of the country and a haven for nosy reporters,” Grant lamented.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Tobias shot back. “But we’ve got bigger problems.”

Grant cocked his head. “The Guardian?”

Tobias nodded solemnly.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. First, we’ve got to get the elixir out of there before the feds call up the National Guard,” he replied. “I think our combined magic should protect us from the Zyloux, anyway.”

“You
think
!” Tobias nearly shouted. “Our lives are on the line here.”

“Okay, relax. If push comes to shove, we’ll stash the elixir at Sloan’s place, and let the Zyloux take him out. By the time the demon tracks us down after we’ve had a few drinks of the real elixir, our powers will be strong enough again to destroy it.”

Tobias carefully considered and reconsidered every point, and after several tense minutes, he delivered his verdict.

“I think it’s very workable,” Tobias said. “But, I don’t like sabotaging Sloan in that manner.”

“I know, but weak links in a chain are always expendable. Look, Tobias: We’ve longed to be young again – to reexperience the vim and vigor of our lost twenties - but our chemical imitation of Tobhor’s elixir won’t regress us further than fifty years of age. We’ve had the same aches and pains for thousands of years, and I, for one, am sick and tired of living with them.” He laughed bitterly. “You have to hand it to Tobhor. He did one helluva job hiding his elixir from us all that time, and after all our sophisticated efforts to locate his place, a bunch of ignorant humans luck out and stumble on it. I say we reclaim what is rightfully ours, the risk be damned!”

“You’re right, Grant. Let’s do it while we’ve still got the chance.”

Grant slapped his shoulder. “Good man.”

“When do we move?”

“Tonight. I’ve made all the arrangements. You and I’ll accompany the crew I’ve assembled and supervise their movements.”

“What crew?”

“It’s made up of other purebloods from our neck of the woods.”

“Impossible! Why would they help destroyers?” Tobias blurted out.

“I promised to share our elixir with them in exchange for their assistance.”

“But what about us? That elixir won’t last forever! What are we supposed to do when it’s gone, goddammit? ”

“They’re just part of my plan,” Grant replied calmly.

“I think I missed that part of your plan,” Tobias retorted angrily.

“The
expendable
part.”

“You’re a ruthless son-of-a-bitch,” Tobias snapped.

Grant grinned. “I take that as a compliment.”

“You can take it for whatever you want as long as we get the elixir.”

Grant sighed. “You didn’t expect me to hire humans for a job this big, did you?”

“I suppose not, but I’m still not totally convinced that we can trust the purebloods, either.”

“Then trust me.”

“Okay, tonight it is,” Tobias conceded. “But I have one other rather pressing question – what are we going to do if the Guardian shows up?”

Grant smiled smugly.

“I know,” Tobias called after him, “
you got it covered
.”

Simpkins’s intercom buzzed, and he pressed the button.

“What is it?” he asked gruffly.

His secretary answered. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but you instructed me to notify you immediately when your package from Florida arrived. It’s on my desk, sir.”

He smiled for the first time since reading the disastrous newswire. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He released the button. “It’s Walkingman’s elixir.”

Grant frowned. “You sure?”

Tobias quickly detailed how Walkingman’s accomplice changed into one of the ancient breed.

“That pretty much validates the liquid’s authenticity. What are you going to do with it?”

“Ship it to our terrorist friends in Europe with special instructions,” he replied.

Grant nodded. “After years of planning, things are happening quickly now.”

“It’s about time.”

“Yeah.”

Tobias and Grant walked to the door.

“Next year, the world will be a much different place.”


Our
place,” Grant added as Tobias opened the door.

The runway wasn’t visible in the squall until the 727s wheels were about to skim the rain-slick concrete. Nick watched as the rain splashed off the plane’s fuselage and the connecting walkway to the terminal. A real gully washer as his adoptive father used to say.

Neo met him outside the baggage claim area by the curb, and they drove through the silvery deluge. The rain blew in sheets across the winding, converging airport exit boulevards, and jagged lightning bolts shredded the gray skies overhead.

“Anything new on Blossom?” Nick asked.

Neo shook his head and reported what he and Crow had done so far to locate Jay Walkingman.

“I was thinking a lot about the kidnapping on the plane,” Nick said. “I’d bet the farm that Walkingman is holed up around Tampa if he’s the terrorist we’re searching for. Have you had any luck identifying the kidnappers’ vehicle?”

“As a matter of fact, we just came up with a stolen SUV from Naples that matches the description that old man gave us at the Pirate Cove Motel. I’ve put out an APB on it statewide.”

“Good work. What puzzles me is that there haven’t been any ransom demands,” Nick said.

“I know. It’s another strange case for us, man,” Neo agreed glumly. “So what are you doing down here in the field?”

Nick briefly outlined his intensions, leaving out a possible rendezvous with Lisa Anders. “So, which government official would be the most likely terrorist target?” Nick asked.

“Hmm, I’d guess it would be the vice president. More worldwide press coverage.”

“Uh-huh. That’s my top guess at this point, too, but the Senators are the ones who are the most vulnerable.”

“No lie. Busch Gardens makes a whopper of a stake out.”

Neo steered the Crown Victoria to the flooded curb in front of a posh, downtown restaurant. Nick peered through the rain-speckled windshield.

He frowned. “Why are you stopping here?”

“You have an early dinner reservation,” Neo replied, smiling broadly.

Nick eyed him suspiciously. “What are you up to now?”

Neo raised both arms. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger! I’m just following orders.”

“Rance Osborne’s?” Nick asked uneasily.

“Hell no, man.”

“Then whose?”

“Lisa Anders’s.”

16

A

maintenance man, with a spine arched like a tree in a hurricane, pushed his heavy tool cart through the shadowy aisles of Tampa VA Medical Center’s enormous basement. He wore a blue-and-white-striped shirt, dark navy pants, and a Devil Rays’ baseball cap perched low over his forehead; he trudged behind the cart as if he had all day to accomplish his task.

He didn’t.

It took the man twenty-five minutes to locate his target area, twelve to pinpoint the exact ductwork from the heating and air conditioning schematic, and another ten to insert and activate the four high-compression, radio-controlled mechanisms.

He continually scanned the vast area to ensure there were no witnesses, but the place was deserted. He knew it would be. There was a maintenance department meeting that afternoon, as there was every Wednesday at 3:00 p.m. It was standard operating procedure. The bogus maintenance man had monitored the hospital’s routines for six months.

The maintenance man checked his watch. It was nearly four, and the maintenance meeting would adjourn soon. It was time to make tracks for the exit and report his success to the boss.

A deep-throated growl behind him straightened the maintenance man’s arched back. He removed a hammer from the tool cart and slowly pivoted, but there was nothing there. He exhaled a welcome sigh of relief and quickened his pace toward the steel staircase. Taking the elevator was too risky. Too many employees spurned the basement steps for the elevator. Again, he had checked and double-checked the employees’ habits.

Another ominous growl.

This time, it seemed very close. Too close. He sprinted for the stairway without glancing over his shoulder. A gargantuan shadow raced ahead of him and absorbed his fleeing shadow.

Suddenly, he felt three painful explosions blister his back. His feet slipped and he crashed to the concrete floor, screaming and writhing like a wounded insect in the descending shadow of a shoe. A horrible creature bent over him, its eyes flooded with murderous, blind rage. Its glimmering, gray chest rose and fell in a frenzied rhythm as its thick, knotted muscles tightened. Foam leaked from the corners of its menacing mouth.

Faster than a blink, the creature dropped onto the man and ripped his bones from their joints as if dismembering a fried chicken. Blood, cartilage, and tendons were splattered on the walls, equipment, and machinery; the man’s gruesome remains speckled the floor in great, gelatinous chunks. In a final act of fury, it brought its foot down hard upon the man’s head, expelling reddish-gray ooze and skull splinters in every direction.

A single chime pinged beside the elevator doors, followed by the squealing clang of the car’s brakes. The creature angrily swung its claws at the elevator for interrupting its mission and then rapidly escaped up the staircase, its weighty tread jarring rust flakes from the old steel risers.

The hospital maintenance employees spilled out of the crowded elevator, anxiously awaiting their 5:00 p.m. quitting time. Seconds later, the first frantic screams erupted and echoed eerily throughout the basement.

Flashing blue and white lights surrounded the VA Medical Center in the rainy, late afternoon gloom. Tampa police detectives, members of a T.P.D. SWAT team, and the Hillsborough County medical examiner and his forensic team occupied the east side of the hospital basement and were examining the grisly remains of the unidentified victim. The aggressive reporters and photographers were corralled in the upstairs lobby, where they frantically attempted to fish for details about the murder from hospital employees. Some resorted to bribery.

Two figures suddenly appeared in the dim shadows behind the hospital’s power generators and went unnoticed by the milling officials.

“Where are we, Grandfather?” Crow asked, trying to understand why the dark, dank place was swarming with cops.

“I do not know this place,” he replied quietly.

Crow crept closer to the frenzied commotion and was able to read the patch on the closest cop’s sleeve. He returned to Grandfather.

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