American Blood: A Vampire's Story (25 page)

“C’mon Sergeant. Get him inside and dust off.” With the help of the other soldier, Sergeant Bob made it to the Black Hawk. They tossed Corporal Squalls on board and jumped inside.

“What a fucked mission,” he said. “What a fucked up world.”

“That’s it,” one of the soldiers yelled to the pilot. “Lift off!”

The helicopter sprang into the air. Sergeant Bob turned toward the pilot. “Look, there by the lake, that’s the rest of my team.”

The men aboard the helicopter looked down at an astonishing site. Two people were running toward the cliff bordering the lake. One was on fire and they were holding hands.

A
few steps from the cliff’s edge Calida fell to the ground. Ryan tried to put out the flames using his turban, but everywhere he struck Calida’s body sparks came off making the flames even worse.

Allen, let me go.

Ryan could
feel
Calida’s incredible pain transcend his own as she entered into his mind, but he shook his head. “No.”

Please . . . you must . . . go have a life . . . a good life.

Ryan again reached down through the thick smoke and grasped her hand. The nerve endings in his skin had been destroyed by the flames, his hand was black, the skin ruined.

“I’ve had a good life . . . we’ll jump together.”

Calida could no longer stand by herself.

Why?

Ryan looked up at the helicopter hovering above, but it no longer mattered to him . . . only one thing did.  He turned back to Calida and with both his voice and the force of his mind he said, “I love you.”

Through the smoke and flames covering Calida’s face her eyes suddenly glowed with an intense blue light.

Ryan pulled her to the edge of the cliff and jumped.

S
ergeant Bob watched as the pair went over the cliff, impacting the water forty feet below. They disappeared beneath the cold, grey waters of the lake. The ripples from their entry traveled outward in ever-increasing circles. Seconds passed and the charred remains of Calida’s blue
burqa
floated up to the surface.

Bullets began rattling the helicopter. Men from the ground were shooting at them. Sergeant Bob gave a last look down at the lake, but nothing else came to the surface.

It was time to leave.

The copilot looked back at him. “One KIA?” he asked.

Sergeant Bob nodded and glanced at the dead body of Corporal Squalls. “One KIA . . . and two MIAs. Let’s get out of here,” he said and went over to the young woman and looked at her face. “You’re safe now. Don’t be frightened.”

He sat down next to her, took her hand in his, and pointed at his chest. “Sergeant Bob.”

The young woman smiled at him and said, “Nafisa.”

“Very nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

Nafisa closed her eyes and held on tightly to the American soldier’s hand.

“Go fuck yourself.”

—
Dick Cheney
, a former Vice President

I
t was a rainy, mid-spring afternoon in Washington and a grey mist obscured the distant views of the prominent landmarks that littered the city. These inspiring white buildings and monuments were known throughout the world as symbols of America’s struggle against the rule of tyranny. And from the hardships of that struggle, the foundation of democracy had been laid along with the important conceit that every one of America’s citizens had the inalienable right to pursue life and liberty, however they so desired. Or at least that is what everyone believed. But like all great societies bearing the weight of bloated government, sometimes things that looked good on paper became confused between the pen and exercise of power.

In one of those hallowed, white marbled buildings, three men sat in a conference room. All three were staring at a large flat panel display attached to the wall across from their table. A segment of video footage taken from high altitude played on the screen.

“So it’s all over,” Vice President Dwicke said. “The mission was a success and the bastard is dead.”

The Director looked up from his smoldering pipe. “Yes, the predator footage clearly shows him being retired.”

“And yet in the end Agent Villena failed,” the Vice President said.

“According to the young Pashtun woman,” the Director began, “this . . . Nafisa, Agent Villena had taken several hits yet still managed to chase the Sheikh outside and confront him even though day was upon her. I don’t know if we can say she failed.”

“Mister Director,” Senator Pachy said. “I do believe you have a soft spot for her.”

The Director smiled. “It is a shame she’s lost, Senator. She was a remarkable creature with a purity of purpose.”

“Still it was this Nafisa who delivered the fatal blow.” Vice President Dwicke shook his head while tapping his fingers on the side of his head. “This has placed the administration in an uncomfortable position, do you both understand this?”

“But the mission was a success.”

“It has more to do with how the mission succeeded. We want to claim we finally killed this terrorist, but we have video showing him being killed by a tribal girl. So what do you suggest we do about this?”

Senator Pachy grumbled for a moment and looked at the Vice President. “It’s simple, really, we’ll lie.”

“The mission did result in a successful elimination,” the Director added.

“And if there is a leak? What then? The last thing the president needs is another fucking scandal.”

The three men silently returned their attention to the video. The high flying Predator Drone had captured the entire event. Once more they watched the death of the Sheikh followed by their agent bursting into flames as she made for the lake. A moment later in the upper left corner of the screen the confrontation between the two rangers played out.

“So our good Doctor Ryan sacrificed himself for her?”

“Who can say?” The Director offered. “She had imprinted with him and therefore could control his actions as she wished.”

“And I say good riddance to her,” Senator Pachy said. “I find her existence—these vampires in general—to be decidedly unchristian.”

“Yes of course, Burchard.”

“Mister Director,” Senator Pachy continued, “can you assure us that she was the last of these devils?”

“All of our intelligence indicates she was the last,” the Director said. “And somehow it is fitting that she was also the first of her kind.”

The video showed the Black Hawk lifting off. The operator zoomed closer to the edge of the cliff. Ryan could be seen reaching for her hand and hesitating for a moment before taking them both over the side.

“She is really dead, then?”

“Mister Vice President,” the Director began. “We have kept this lake on twenty-four hour surveillance for the last six weeks . . . there is nothing to fear.”

“Naturally, if she did survive you’re the one who should be worried,” the Vice President said, and after a pause all three men began to chuckle.

“Nothing has emerged from the lake since that day. And besides, the terminate signal for the device inside her head is on a broadcast loop from a satellite in GEO above the lake.”

“Moving that bird was expensive. I ruffled some feathers over at the NSA,” Vice President Dwicke said.

“That was unavoidable.”

“Hmm, can we retrieve the bodies at some point?”

“Perhaps, but the cold waters will slow down decomposition and gas formation. They may never come up to the surface. May I ask why you want the bodies?”

“Apart from being a final confirmation, these two individuals while expendable, were also American citizens. Let’s not ever forget that. If the enemy got their hands on them Al-Jazeera would have weeks of bullshit coverage about it. The administration would be disappointed if pictures of two dead American spies began to cross the newswires.”

“The lake is deep. Only specialized equipment could reach their resting place. I assure you this is the case.”

“Very good,” the Vice President said. “I will relay your analysis to the President.”

The video continued for a few more minutes as the Predator on station circled high above. The initial disturbance on the lake caused the surface to sparkle in the sunlight for several minutes, but as the water calmed the lake again became mirror smooth and the sparkles vanished.

The screen went black.

“I look forward to your final report on this matter,” the Vice President said turning toward the Director. “Now how is the Spain situation progressing?”

“If you both turn to the first section of your briefing packet I can review our progress,” the Director replied.

“Is there a financial section?”

“Yes, of course, Senator . . . please allow me to table that for the moment. Is that satisfactory?”

Senator Pachy fussed with his glasses and grunted.

“Thank you . . . now the expedition to find the original caves is already in Valencia. Our cooperative Doctor Lei has agreed to direct the team. We believe these caves are located along a three-mile stretch of the Serpis River where a pronounced cliff formation exists. Prospectors in this area fifty years ago discovered traces of radioactive uranite and pitchblende. Professor Balken is convinced the uranite was used to make the yellow powder that Agent Villena referred to. Although the main source of these minerals was never found, they must be somewhere in the immediate vicinity.”

“And the team’s cover?”

“Doctor Lei’s well known reputation as a researcher into ancient roman artifacts. In fact, Spain’s archeological society is welcoming our team with open arms. Evidently the worldwide economic downturn has brought funding to a halt for this type of research.”

“What about the research into Doctor Ryan’s element?”

“That is also moving forward. Professor Balken has been moved to one of the Department of Energy’s accelerator labs. He’s been given priority beam time much to the dismay of the facilities’ physicists who are in a desperate race to beat the Europeans in the race for the Higgs Boson.”

“The facility is government owned after all,” Vice President Dwicke said.

“If those damn fools hadn’t pulled the funding on that Super Collider project being built in the great state of Texas this Higgs thing would have been Made-in-America a decade ago.”

“Uh, yes, Burchard,” Vice President Dwicke said. “What about the research into our deceased Agent Villena’s unique talents?”

“Ooh yes, we’ve obtained the services of my original choice for lead investigator, Doctor Adrian Marstani . . . a brilliant molecular biologist who had an adversarial relationship with our departed Doctor Ryan.”

“Then all is in good hands?”

“Yes.”

Vice President Dwicke stood up. “Excellent work, please accept the administration’s gratitude for your tireless service to this country.”

The Director also rose to his feet without using his cane. “You honor me, Mister Vice President.”

“Be sure to send me your final report along with a copy of that Predator video. I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of watching that bastard get spiked through the back.” The Vice President noted the time and grimaced. “I have an appointment with the Undersecretary of Health and Human Services in my office regarding prescription rebates of all things.” Vice President Dwicke rolled his eyes and left the conference room.

“Is there anything else you would like to discuss?” the Director asked Senator Pachy.

“Harrumph, yes there is . . . exactly how much is this expedition going to cost the tax payers?” Senator Pachy asked. “I want a complete run down of all forecasts.”

The Director sighed, sat back down, and picked up his pipe. “Certainly Senator Pachy . . . now if you turn to section five we can begin.”

T
he black limousine pulled into the driveway of Number One Observatory Circle, the official home of the country’s sitting Vice President located in the northwest section of the capital. Dwicke waited for his Secret Service detail to come around to his side of the limousine. After a moment, the door opened and he got out of the car. Surrounded by agents, he was escorted from the driveway to the Queen Anne Style home’s from entrance. Night had descended upon Washington; a steady rain fell.

As soon as he entered the foyer, his assistant, a recent graduate of the Naval Academy, presented the night’s appointment schedule for him to review.

Dwicke quickly looked over the schedule. “Damn . . . all right, get me a scotch and I’ll see the Undersecretary. Interrupt the meeting after twenty minutes if I’m not finished.”

“Anything particular?” his assistant asked.

“No, make up some emergency that requires my immediate attention. I’ve been warned that the Undersecretary has a bad habit.”

“And what would that be, Sir?”

“Doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“Anything else?”

“Uh, no, is the Undersecretary in the sitting room?”

“Yes Sir, along with your next appointment who arrived early.”

Dwicke again looked at the schedule. “No way. I’m not going to sit and listen to General Harrington complain about funding for the military pension plan. I’ll go around the back way to my office. As soon as I buzz let the Undersecretary in.”

“I’ll bring you that drink.”

Dwicke nodded and took the long route to his main office located on the southeast corner of the home. He walked in through the side entrance and picked up the freshly poured glass of scotch sitting on his desk. He eased himself into his chair, drained the glass, and pushed a button on his desk.

He had never personally met the Undersecretary and wanted to get the meeting over as quickly as possible.

He heard the door open and he pretended to be studying a document on his desk. After a few seconds he looked up and was pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you for coming here tonight,” Dwicke said. He leaned over his desk and took the Undersecretary’s hand. “May I offer you a drink? I have freshly squeezed orange and pineapple juice.”

“I’m not much of a juice drinker,” the woman replied.

“Maybe you’re the Undersecretary for the wrong Cabinet,” Dwicke said which made the woman smile warmly at him.

“We all have our vices, for good or bad,” she said.

Dwicke returned her smile and reluctantly let go of her hand. “Please sit down.” He reached forward and pressed the intercom. “See that my meeting is not interrupted. The Undersecretary requires my complete attention.”

“Yes Sir.”

“I appreciate that, Mister Vice President.”

Dwicke continued to smile. The Undersecretary appeared to get better looking with each passing minute: a welcomed side effect of the excellent scotch. She was pretty with curly brown hair and dark brown eyes. He had seen pictures of her before, but the photos just didn’t do her justice. In person she was a looker.

“I want you to know that I’ve always considered health issues to be the highest priority,” Dwicke said. “I’m always on guard against things harmful to my health. Maybe you’ve heard that I’ve completed three marathons in the last year.”

“That’s amazing Mister Vice President. I fully enjoy a man who is careful about what he puts in his body.” She then leaned forward and slowly looked him over. “From what I can see you’re in great physical shape. I’m sure your wife is very pleased.”

“And you are very gracious. Perhaps after our meeting you will join me for dinner. Mrs. Dwicke is on the west coast for some charity work and I don’t like to eat alone.”

“I’d love to have dinner with you.”

“Excellent. Now what do you want to talk about?” Dwicke reached for a row of buttons on his desk and pressed one. The lock on the main door to his office silently slid in place.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “I must be honest with you. I’m finding it hard to concentrate . . . you have a very persuasive charm.”

“Madam Undersecretary, if I didn’t know any better I would take that as an invitation.”

“Mister Vice President,” she said, coyly. “We’ve only just met. What if your assistant comes through the door?”

“There’s nothing to worry about Madam, I can lock the door from right here.” Dwicke pretended to push a button on the desk panel.

“Now what?”

“Please . . . come over to my side of the desk. Let me take a good look at you.”

“How can I say no?”

Dwicke watched his guest stand up and walk around the large, man-sized safe next to his desk.

“That’s a big safe.”

“It’s fireproof and completely water tight,” Dwicke proudly said. “Just an extra precaution to keep my office paperwork secure.”

The Undersecretary stopped right in front of him. “So, do you like what you see?”

“My eyes are playing tricks on me,” Dwicke said. “I’d swear you’re more beautiful now then when you walked through the door.”

The Undersecretary slid out of her red pumps. “You don’t mind me getting comfortable do you?”

“Please do.”

She smiled as she sat on the edge of the Vice President’s desk and placed her foot between his thighs.