SEAL Team 13 (SEAL Team 13 series) (21 page)

Elsewhere in the town of Barrow, a very annoyed and increasingly frustrated entity was pacing the cement floor of a large building. Towering machines lifted up all around it, dwarfing the human-sized figures that milled about, watching…waiting.

The term “vampire” meant little or nothing to this one, nor did any other word. Existence simply happened, and the continuation of existence was part and parcel of the way things were. She existed, she would not permit that to be challenged, and that was that.

Even so, it was becoming ever more clear that this situation was untenable.

She’d effectively taken over an entire population center, a feat none had managed in centuries, but now she was trapped.

For hundreds and hundreds of miles in every direction there was nothing but cold, empty land. And soon, if her information was correct, the extreme cold would come in. Freezing temperatures could be withstood for a time but not to the extremes that were reported for this area. She and hers would be frozen in place within minutes, lost to an eternal slumber she had no intention of ever rejoining.

Yet what was there to do?

EAST OF BARROW

The lights of Barrow came into sight as the group crested a small rise. Masters knew that they were looking for a fight, but for the first time in his professional life he found himself feeling completely uncertain about what lay ahead.

When he had been drummed out of the navy so many years ago, Masters had walked out of the regimented life of a SEAL and into a world whose existence was a revelation. There were things out there that defied everything he’d ever been taught, everything he’d ever believed, but at the time he’d been too lost to see the forest for the trees.

He knew that if he hadn’t met Norton in that beachside bar down in Tijuana, he’d probably have drunk himself into an early grave, either from liver necrosis or from some slice of darkness that caught up to him as he stumbled home from a bar.

The veil.

Even after a decade, he shivered at the thought of it. The first line of defense for civilized society, and only a fraction of a fraction of people even knew it existed. He’d blundered through it—not when that damned squid
ate
an Arleigh Burke–class destroyer the way everyone thought—but months later when he couldn’t, wouldn’t let it go.

Some things a man couldn’t unsee, and one of those things had changed his life forever.

Now he was marching across the semifrozen tundra, eyes wide open as he found himself actually looking forward to a vampire hunt of all things.

The three newcomers to his little group were interesting, though he still wondered if he should have taken his first gut check at its face value and told them that there was no chance in hell they could join them. The two men were one thing; it hadn’t taken him long to work out what the old geezer back at the lodge meant when he called them “fell warriors.”

They were military, both of them. Special Forces or he was a jarhead.

The girl…now, she was another story.

She was dressed far too lightly for this kind of weather, but like Norton she showed no signs of being chilled. She carried only knives, unlike her companions, who were armed with some respectable artillery, all things considered.

Tactical shotguns were the order of the day, though both of the men also carried a pair of wicked-looking custom knives and swords over their shoulders. Unorthodox by modern standards, but hell, he was carrying a kukri he’d taken from a guy who’d tried to kill him. Masters figured he was in no position to be calling the kettle black.

He stepped back to where Norton was standing, gazing out over the town.

“Any ideas?” he asked, lips twisted as he too looked out at the lights.

Norton was silent for a time. “Not really. No one’s dealt with anything like this for centuries, Hawk. Vampires aren’t common anymore. Oh, there are still a few here and there, but they usually get cut down pretty fast by the local community. They know what to look for in these creatures’ usual stomping grounds. This kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen.”

“None of this shit is supposed to happen, Alex,” Masters said. “I wasn’t supposed to watch my team get killed by some slimy piece of shit from the depths, and these people weren’t supposed to die by the hands of some old-world monster. I hate to say it, but what’s supposed to happen and what actually does have very little to do with each other. We’re not here to worry about what should happen; we’re here to fix what
has
happened.”

Norton sighed, but nodded. “Right. Okay, well, we’ve got to find the patient zero.”

“What happens to the others when we take out patient zero?”

“They die.”

The two men turned to look at Hannah, who was standing a short distance away, the chill wind wafting her dark hair about her face as she too looked ahead at the town. Masters glanced from her over to Norton, who shrugged. “Well technically, they’re already dead,” he said, “but yeah.…”

“So kill this patient zero, and it’s like an off switch for the rest?”

Norton grimaced. “They’ll wander around for a while, mostly directionless. Some might go after their families, if there’s anyone left to go after, but without the pack leader to renew them, they won’t last long.”

“They’ll rot,” Hannah offered, “from the inside out, while they’re walking around. It’ll be…messy.”

“Lovely.” Masters suppressed a shiver at the flat tone in the young woman’s voice. There was something about her that didn’t seem to be quite right, in his opinion, and it wasn’t just the fact that she’d joined in on this little hunt. “Do we have any idea where this patient zero is?”

“No.” Norton shook his head. “It could be anywhere.”

“Well, we have to narrow it down,” Masters growled. “We don’t have the time, or the manpower, to search the entire town.”

“She will be somewhere close enough to control her chattel.”

Norton and Masters looked to Hannah, who hadn’t even glanced in their direction before speaking. “She?” they asked at the same time.

“This much death and destruction, without any flashy pronouncements of godhood or any other idiotic evil overlord nonsense?” she asked, her lips tilting up in the corners. “Let’s say that I consider it a fair bet.”

“Right,” Masters said dryly. “So
she
is probably close. What else?”

“It’ll have to be warm,” Norton said after a moment. “Colder temperatures slow them down, like they would for any cold-blooded beast.”

“That doesn’t narrow things down much. They could find heat in any of the houses or buildings since the power’s still on.”

“So we cut the power,” Hannah said with a delicate shrug of her shoulders.

Masters exchanged a glance with Norton, and then looked over to where Rankin had joined them a few moments before.

“What do you two think?”

“Makes sense,” Rankin shrugged. “If we can’t find the bitch, let’s flush her out.”

Masters frowned at his old friend, surprised that Eddie of all people was taking Hannah at her word concerning patient zero’s sex. That said, it did make sense to him, so he glanced back at Norton. “Any reason not to?”

“None I can think of. Do we know where the generators are for this place?”

“We do.”

The first of the two Asatru men spoke as he stepped in closer.

“There’s an electricity co-op in the southern district of town,” the man said. “It runs off the compressed natural gas from the wells. Shutting it down without blowing the place up will be the trick.”

“We’ve got an EOD specialist,” Masters said. “If we have to, blowing the place up is an option. Still, I suppose it would be better to leave it in one piece.”

He considered it, then glanced over to Rankin. “You served some time in the engineering section of some big ships. Can you take care of it?”

Rankin shrugged, thinking about it for a moment. “Yeah, no problem. CNG is a little different from diesel, to be sure, but it can’t be too different. We’ll have to watch for pressure valves and monitors, though.”

“All right, we’ll hit the power generators first.” Masters nodded, crouching down as he pulled out his map of the town and braced it on one knee while hitting it with his flashlight. “Where is it?”

The Asatru man who’d spoken pointed out the spot on the map. “Right here.”

“All right, so we’re better off circling south and coming in from the west?”

“Yes, sir,” the man said.

“Right. Okay, then that’s what we’ll do,” Masters decided. “We’ll slip in near the coast this time, and then cut down toward the co-op. Everyone good?”

“Houah, sir.”

Masters glanced at the man, his eyes speculative. “Ranger?”

“One-o-one, sir.” The man smiled. “Pardon me for saying so, but it took you long enough to ask.”

“I didn’t want to annoy anyone Alex considers worthy of his time,” Masters admitted. “Your friend?”

“Sammy’s a crazy Canuck,” the Ranger said. “JTF2.”

Masters nodded, whistling silently. A Ranger and one of Canada’s special-operations men—he couldn’t have asked for much better. The Ranger title spoke for itself in his opinion. Masters himself was Ranger tabbed, as were many SEALs, so he knew that the man beside him knew how to think and operate under pressure.

Joint Task Force Two, on the other hand, was Canada’s special-forces group. They were trained to Special Air Service standards, and they held themselves fully up to said standards. Unlike the United States forces, who both enjoyed and courted a certain infamy, the Canadians believed in operational security. They didn’t go on reality TV, and they didn’t talk—they just served, and then went home.

Officially, more or less, the men of the JTF2 had been involved in every major world conflict of the last two decades save the second Iraq war. Canada had officially refused to back the United States’ invasion of Iraq. Unofficially, however, Masters had served some time in the sandbox, and he knew for a fact that there had been a couple of squads there quietly backing up the US troops. Canada and the United States were brother nations, and while brothers fight, they also have each other’s backs.

He extended a hand to the Ranger. “Hawk Masters.”

“Rick Plains.” The man shook his hand. “And the Canuck here is Perry Rand.”

“So how did a Ranger get into this Asatru stuff anyway?”

Rick shrugged. “Honestly, I just slid into it sideways. I wasn’t looking for a religion, but it felt right. Learned in the service that when something feels right, most times it is.”

Masters nodded; he could understand and appreciate that.

“Well, good to meet you.” Masters packed away the map. “Time to move.”

They all nodded, heading a little southwest as they started to circle down around the town and airfield. Masters silently thumbed his radio, speaking softly now. “On the move, Djinn. Can you spot for us?”

Perched hidden on his rooftop, Hale watched the group in the distance as they circled south around the airfield. There was nothing moving near them, so he sent a two-tone burst to give them the all clear.

The town was as dead as it had been when they’d first arrived, no pun intended. For the moment, the only things moving were the flames from the burning oil wells, and the dying fires around town and out on the strip where the C-130 had been.

That was one hell of a show.
Nathan smiled very slightly. He’d been ready to blow his hide to cover those three, but it hadn’t been needed. He wasn’t sure how many of the things had burned up when the plane erupted, but it probably came close to matching the previous body count in one fell swoop.

CHAPTER

“Captain Andrews!”

Judith looked over at the junior Coast Guard officer and waved him off for a moment while she finished her instructions to the pilot of the chopper she and her men were about to take out. Only when that was done did she step back from the bird and join him.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“There’s radio traffic on the frequencies you had us monitor, ma’am.”

“In the clear?” she asked.

“No ma’am, encrypted and tone code, ma’am.”

Judith nodded. “Thank you.”

She dismissed him and headed straight for the three SEALs, who were waiting, more or less patiently, for their orders.

“Looks like Masters is on the move, gentlemen.”

They glanced at each other, then nodded.

“We know,” Mack said.

Judith rolled her eyes. “Nice of you to let me know.”

“He’s in contact with Hale,” Mack said. “Not sure what his play is, but The Djinn is covering him as he circles south and around town, back to near where we originally landed.”

Judith grimaced. Radio discipline was ironclad in these situations, and she knew it wasn’t her place to cut in and ask the idiot what the hell he was doing. He was in command of his squad in the field, and she couldn’t override that even under normal circumstances. Since the admiral had given her specific orders on the subject, her hands were tied.

Given her druthers, after what she’d seen, Judith would have pulled the whole team out of the field and called in an assault group.

Whatever the hell was going on in Barrow, she was damned well sure it wasn’t a job for a special-operations team.

“As soon as we get an idea of where they are and what the hell they’re up to,” she said, “we move out.”

“Ooh Rah,” the SEALs said as one.

She would have been a lot happier if they sounded a little more enthusiastic about it.

Harold “Hawk” Masters was splayed out over a semifrozen dirt embankment to the west of Barrow, looking into town through a pair of high-powered binoculars.

It was an exercise in frustration more than a legitimate intelligence-gathering action, however, since no matter where he looked, nothing was moving.

“Damn,” he finally cursed. “Nothing’s outside, and I can’t even see through any of the windows.”

“This king has control over its pawns,” Norton said. “That’s not so good for us, I’m afraid.”

“Queen.”

Masters glanced up at Hannah, but ignored her correction. Not that he thought she was wrong, but honestly it was irrelevant.

“Lovely. More good news,” Masters sighed. “Lay it on me.”

“It indicates a strong
Queen
,” Norton said, with a sly glance at Hannah. “And a fairly well developed intelligence. Stupid enemies are always preferable.”

“Well, you have me there,” Masters acknowledged. “But I don’t see as how we’ve got much say in the matter, so we’d better get ready to move out.”

Decision made, they dropped back down from the embankment and headed around to where the others were waiting.

“We’re heading straight in to the generators,” Masters said, “so stay low, move fast. Eddie, take point. I’ve got drag, so Rand and Plains, take security positions.”

The two Asatru nodded. Security positions would basically put them on either side of Norton and Hannah, treating them like two VIPs in a protection detail. That wasn’t their job, exactly, but neither of them was going to complain about it.

“No matter how we cut it, we’ve got to penetrate a lot of enemy territory to get where we’re going,” Masters said seriously. “Last time we tripped off a response before we got much more than half the distance we need to get to now. Alex, you said they
smell
heat?”

Norton nodded. “That’s as close as anyone’s been able to describe it, yes.”

“No idea of range?”

Norton shrugged. “Probably relatively close range. A few meters at best.”

“Say about ten feet, then?” Masters considered the information.

“It’s as good a guess as any.”

“All right, I think we screw stealth,” Masters said.

Rankin stared, half raising a hand like he was a child in class. “Uh, I don’t know about you, boss, but I don’t have the ammo to take on a few thousand rotting bloodsuckers.”

“You’re not alone, Eddie.” Masters quirked a half smile. “But the longer we loiter around the shadows of these buildings, the more likely one of them sniffs us out. What if we just hammered right through?”

“Ballsy,” Eddie said after considering it for a moment. “Stupid, but ballsy.”

Besides Hannah, everyone chuckled at the comment. The goth girl just turned her lips up slightly and seemed mildly amused by Eddie’s creative description of Masters’s plan.

“We know they’re not hanging around the windows,” Masters offered up.

“You have a point,” Norton conceded, “but it’s high risk. If you’re wrong…”

He didn’t need to finish that statement. If Masters was wrong, they could find themselves surrounded by hundreds of enemies before they got halfway to their goal.

“If I’m a little wrong,” Masters said, “we run and gun our way to the generators and hold the building for as long as we can while we get it shut down. If I’m a lot wrong…well, we withdraw as we can and come in using another method.”

“As we can,” Norton said dryly. “That’s the part I’m worried about.”

Perry Rand chuckled. “What’s the matter, Black? Do you want to live forever?”

“So what if I do?” Norton rejoined dryly. “It’s a noble goal.”

“I would prefer to go out in a blaze of glory against overwhelming odds,” Rand told him, then shrugged and chuckled softly. “Though I admit, even as an Asatru, I’d prefer to do that after a few more decades.”

“While the image of you doddering off to war with a broadax in one hand and a walker in the other is terribly amusing,” Norton replied, rolling his eyes, “none of us gets to choose our time.”

“Not true,” Rick Plains said quietly, drawing their attention. “We all get to choose our time to die, Black. It’s just that the choice is either
now
or
later
. Most men inevitably choose later until they no longer have the choice. I, for one, will choose now, and if it becomes later…well, I’ll have some bonus years to spend, now won’t I?”

“I hate Asatru,” Norton grumbled. “Not even fundamentalists can make suicide sound so logical.”

“I object to your choice of words, Black,” Hannah said, her eyes gazing out over the town before them. “What Richard speaks of is not suicide; it is the mastery of one’s own fate.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Alex said, giving up.

Honestly he knew that she was right, and as he’d said, he even found Rick’s argument compelling. That was the problem—he didn’t like any argument that might compel him to walk into crazy situations on a regular basis. One of the many,
many
reasons he regularly cursed the day he’d met Hawk Masters.

“Enough,” Masters said finally, his eyes on the town as he calculated the best entry path. “Unless anyone has a better idea, I say we move in fast and stay clear of the buildings.”

Norton sighed, but nodded. “Fine, but we’d better avoid the scene of the little massacre you engineered the last time we were in town.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re vampires, and they may still be…active, for lack of a better word,” Norton explained. “Say you paralyzed one with a shot to the spine but didn’t take off its head.…Well, if we’re spotted by one, we’re spotted by them all.”

“Ah,” Masters grimaced, quickly unfolding his map and playing his flashlight across it. “Damn. That’s right on our best path.”

“Then it’s not our best path.”

“All right, we have to cut in along the south then,” Masters said, “following this road here up along the airport fence, then cutting north. After that we move in an almost straight line.…Everyone got that?”

He looked around, but there were no questions and everyone was nodding, so he put the map away.

“All right. Let’s do this.”

All but sprinting down the center of a street in a town held by enemies was not an action that put any of the military people in the group at ease. When they infiltrated a town, it was usually done from wall to wall, building to building, in short sprints. This time they felt like they were open to the world and begging for a sniper to take them out.

Masters had to keep telling himself that the enemy this time didn’t have snipers, they didn’t even have people throwing rocks, but it was hard for them to go against their training and instincts the way they were. They were making great time, but he couldn’t help but feel bare-ass naked in the cold Alaskan night.

In just a few minutes they made it to the first intersection, which they blew through without a sign of the enemy.

Luck like that couldn’t last. Just no way in hell, and Masters knew it.

By the time they passed the second intersection, they spotted their first hint of motion, a door swinging open as they bolted past.

“They’re onto us!”

“Damn it! I was hoping for a bit longer,” Masters growled when Rankin warned him of the motion. “Double-time!”

They moved from a trot to a near sprint, moving hell-bent for leather for the next intersection. Masters kept an eye on the two civilians he had along for the ride, but he was pleased and surprised when he saw that Norton and Hannah were easily keeping pace. Norton surprised him moderately less—the man didn’t carry a lot of weight on him and was in good shape. But Hannah wasn’t even breathing hard from what he could see. Granted, she carried even less weight than Norton, but that was still impressive.

“Hawk. Djinn.”

Masters keyed his radio on the move. “Go for Hawk.”

“They’re coming out of the woodwork, boss. There’s a grouping ahead of you at the next intersection.”

“Shit,” Masters hissed, fist coming up to halt the group.

“What is it, boss?” Rankin asked from behind him.

“Detour! North, now!”

They hung right into somebody’s front yard, throwing their plan out the window.

The door of the house swung open as they came close, but Masters couldn’t see what was behind it, so he didn’t bring his AA-12 up to engage. Instead he threw his full weight into the door, slamming it hard, which catapulted the body behind it back into the house.

It slowed him down marginally, so he pumped his legs harder to catch up.

“Have fun, boss?” Rankin asked, sounding like the strain was starting to filter through on him.

“A blast,” Masters said, eyeing the street ahead. “Hang left on the street.”

“Right.”

“Got it.”

They burst out of the yard and into the street, hanging left as they continued to run east so that they could get onto the street that led them to the generators.

“Hawk, group converging, next street north.”

Shit!
Masters was not a happy camper. They needed to cut up that street for the fastest approach, otherwise they’d have to muck through someone’s sodden yard.

“Numbers?” he demanded.

“Thin,” Djinn answered. “Count five hostiles.”

“Roger,” he said, glancing at the others by his side. “Small group ahead to the north. We’re going to blow through.”