Homecoming (35 page)

Dom stood in the moonlit shadow of the large troll and continued to fire into the advancing line. “I’m getting low on ammo,” he warned.

The troll raised a mighty foot and started to bring it down on top of Dom’s head. “Heads-up!” Ben shouted as he tackled his Team Leader and rolled him away from the giant stomping foot. Both men felt the earth tremble under the impact as they rolled to safety.

“Holy smokes.” Dom lay on the ground and stared at the goo now stuck to the bottom of the troll’s foot. “That coulda been me.”

Ben patted his shoulder. “Not as long as I’m around, boss.” He gave the larger man a wink then offered a hand to pull him up.

Dom looked past Ben and saw the foot raised in the air once more, ready to come down on the both of them. He took Ben’s hand and pulled him to the ground, rolling them both to the side just as the monstrous three-toed foot impacted where they had been.

Ben shook his head as he rolled to his feet. “Son of a bitch don’t give up, does he?”

Dom smiled at Ben and pointed to the advancing smaller trolls. “I got an idea.”

*****

“And that’s why I didn’t hesitate to join up with the squads.” Little John sat quietly in the main hanger, the rest of his squad mates surrounding him, listening intently.

“How old were you when this happened?” Donnie asked.

“I was just a kid. About ten.” John shrugged. “That whole period of my life is kind of a blur. My folks had me put on some medication and…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“That’s some heavy shit right there,” Lamb said. “I mean, seriously, I thought I had issues.” Ing punched him. Hard.

“Don’t mind him. He’s a dick.” Ing pushed Lamb out of the way. “His heart’s in the right place though.”

“Yeah. In my chest.” Lamb stated goofily, trying to break the tension.

“I can fix that,” John offered. Lamb didn’t see the humor.

“Okay, so, I have to ask, bro. What would you do if you ever ran into her? I mean, like if we were on a mission or something?” Donnie asked. “Would you try to make contact?”

John nodded solemnly. “With a high velocity silver bullet.”

That response sent a round of gasps, murmurs, and muffled comments from the squad. Finally Ing settled them down. “Dude, that seems a bit brutal.”

John’s voice was quiet and low. “I don’t think so. I’d hope that she would do that same for me if the situation were reversed. I wouldn’t want to live like that.”

“But, Little John, she’s your sister.” Lamb’s eyes were pleading with him. “I couldn’t pull the trigger if it were somebody from my…okay, well, yeah. If it were somebody from my family, I probably could. Bad example.”

John stood and held his hands up. “Look, fellas, I can’t expect you to understand. Just know…I’m there for you. Even if we run into her out there somewhere, my head is in the game.”

Donnie placed a hand on John’s shoulder and squeezed. “Bro, we never doubted that.” He turned John toward the stairwell door. “But before you go etching your sister’s name on a bullet, you need to go downstairs and talk to Doc. He’s proof that not all bloodsuckers are bad.”

John chuckled. “You think I haven’t thought of that? Do you really think that I haven’t considered all the possibilities?” He sighed heavily and leaned back against the table. “Whether she can be saved or not, I can’t say. But I can say that I’m not going to risk my team trying to find out.”

Spanky stepped up from behind the group, his arms crossed over his chest. “There are less than lethal means of dealing with vampires,” he stated. “I mean, you’re right, John. The odds of us ever running into your sister are pretty slim. But in the off chance that we did…there are other ways of dealing with her. At least until you could decide if she was salvageable.”

John shook his head. “I couldn’t do it.” He raised his eyes and met Darren’s. “If I ever got the chance to actually ‘talk’ with her again? She could probably convince me that she was the next Pope.” He pushed away from the table again and waved the squad off. “I appreciate the offer, guys, I really do. But my mind has been made up for years. If I run into her again, I have to bring her down.”

*****

Laura heard the plane’s engine rev down and the murmuring of voices in the front of the cockpit. She sat up and went through the motions of waking. She stretched and yawned, realizing that nobody was paying her actions any attention. Leaning forward and raising her voice, she asked, “Are we almost there?”

“Prepping to stop for fuel again.” Mick worked the controls of the plane and Laura squinted against the darkness, noting the flashing lights of a runway ahead. “I doubt you’ll find much more than a bathroom here, though, especially at this hour.”

Laura stared at her watch in the dim cabin light and noted that it was still late in the evening. “When will we be arriving in Brazil?”

Mick didn’t bother to look back at her. “Some time in the morning. We could probably make it on the fuel we have, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Laura sat back in her seat and buckled her seatbelt as they prepared to land. She debated confiding in Jennifer what she witnessed earlier and weighed the woman’s reaction. Would she believe her? Mick was a very old friend and had supposedly suffered at the hands of her father upon Jennifer’s disappearance. Who was Laura to her compared to that? Still…

She felt the plane sink in the atmosphere and her stomach went with it. Feeling the craft shake and dance on the air currents she suddenly was happy she wasn’t able to eat much when they stopped.

When the craft finally settled down, she watched Mick more carefully. He handled the plane like a true professional and she knew that if she dared confront him with what she knew, there was a distinct possibility that he’d simply leave her stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. The realization struck her that this stop on this leg of the trip may well be for that purpose. Dump her in the middle of nowhere for Walter Simmons’ men to pick up and dispose of.

Laura closed her eyes and forced her mind to calm down. As hard as it might be, she’d simply have to pretend that nothing was going to happen to her, and if Mick tried anything, Pablo and his men would immediately begin search-and-rescue operations.

Laura nearly yelped when the plane touched down and she forced her hands to let go of the death grip she held on the armrest of her seat. Lack of sleep, adrenaline burn out and anxiety was all taking its toll on her. “And Matt wondered why I wanted to quit,” she mumbled to herself.

“I got the bathroom first,” Jennifer announced as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Laura gave her a wan smile. “Right behind ya.”

As soon as the plane finished its taxi to the fuel station, Jennifer had the door open and was duckwalking to the main building. Laura couldn’t help but notice Mick watching her as she walked away. Hedging her bet, she leaned forward, “She’s pretty special, isn’t she?”

Mick seemed genuinely surprised that he’d been caught and dropped his eyes back to the instruments before opening his own door. “She’s one of my oldest and closest friends.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Mick paused as he was about to step out of the plane. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Laura slid over to the side door and opened it, stepping out and stretching her legs in the humid night air. “I’m a woman, Mick. I can tell when a man is interested in more than friendship.” She closed the door and walked around the plane to where he was pulling the fuel hose to the tanks. “Does she know that you love her?”

He stopped and stared at her for a moment before resuming his activities. “I don’t suppose that denying it would get you to drop the subject would it?”

“Not in the slightest.” She leaned against the plane and watched as he topped off the tanks.

Mick wiped his hands on a rag as the fuel pumped. He stared off in the direction that Jennifer had walked and his eyes glimmered in the darkness. “I’d die for that girl. But it wouldn’t matter. I’m a cat, she’s a wolf. Water and oil.”

“Phooey.” Laura pushed off the side of the plane and clapped his shoulder. “She’s a woman and you’re a man. That’s what matters.”

Mick gave her a sideways look. “I thought you were here to take her to your boss so they could be mated?”

She shook her head. “I’m a realist. I’m here to take her to
talk
to him. They may be ‘fated’, but…”

“But what?”

Her eyes met his and he saw something there he didn’t expect. Understanding. “Just because someone else says you are supposed to be together doesn’t mean that it’s the right choice for you. I believe in love.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one that needs convincing of that.” He checked the fuel level then turned back to her. “This whole fated thing means something to her. I have to respect that. I may not like it, but I have to respect it.”

“You’re a better man than I would be.” Laura turned and headed toward the main station. “I wouldn’t let anybody get between me and the person I loved.”

Mick pulled the fuel nozzle from the tank and screwed the cap back on. He watched Laura as she walked toward the station and saw Jennifer push her way out the door looking as brilliant as ever. “If you love something, set it free…”

*****

“I ain’t going back,” Apollo announced defiantly. “I don’t care what kind of intel they need, I ain’t doing it.”

“Look, mate, we need to know exactly when your chums are taking off. We need to know when each group will be at their supposed weakest.” Sheridan limped toward the board and tapped it with his knuckled. “Once your chaps take off from here, we have a four hour window to what needs to be done. We need to have our people staged.”

“And I’m telling you, set up the contractor truck and watch for them.” Apollo shook his head and practically fell into his seat. “I ain’t going back. I’d go off on ‘em, and they’d know something was up.”

Sheridan inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “Then how are you supposed to get the drop on them at the island?”

“You got me them cigar boats, didn’t you? They’ll be going out in a standard Monterey. Top speed in open ocean is maybe fifty knots.”

“And if the water is choppy or the seas are too rough for the fast boats?” Sheridan tapped the board again. “We need as much heads-up as we can get.”

“Then we take a damn chopper, I don’t care, I ain’t going back.” Apollo crossed his huge arms over his massive chest and glared at the man across from him.

Sheridan finally sighed and collapsed into the chair opposite. “Fine, we’ll do it your way.” He pulled a radio from his hip and ordered a surveillance team to the base. “I don’t like this. We’ll have to be on alert from now on.”

“Then so fucking be it.”

“Right. So fucking be it.” Sheridan pushed up and out of the seat. “Pack your gear. Be ready to bug out at a moment’s notice.”

“Already on it.”

*****

Rachel purposely kept her thoughts to herself as she and Damien drove through the city. She knew exactly where he was headed. The same worn down warehouse that they had called ‘home’ before they departed for Europe.

As the van pulled to the doors and Damien hit the opener, she could feel the collected body parts calling to her. She fought the urge to jump out and run as fast as she could. She knew that it would do her no good. He would simply run her down and drag her back. Regardless of what she may think she wanted now, he was operating off the idea she had stuck in his head so very long ago.

She watched the girders go by as he drove the van deep into the building and the resonating thud of the doors shutting behind them caused her to jump slightly. “We’re home,” he announced as he opened his door and nearly bounced to the back of the van. She stayed in her seat while he opened the back and began pulling their things from the rear. Slowly she opened the door and slid from her seat, her feet feeling foreign as they made contact with the concrete floor.

Damien hurried past her, their collected goodies in his arms as he nearly raced deeper into the warehouse. “First thing tomorrow we’ll start gathering everything we need to revive you.”

She stared at him as he laid the body parts out on the stainless steel table, her heart sinking as he hummed to himself, giddy beyond recognition. Carefully, he placed each piece where it belonged then ran a rubber seal along the edge of the table. Stainless steel sides were then lifted into place and bolted into place, then the ends, creating a shallow tub.

Rachel found herself standing beside the table, staring at the moldy, dusty and rotting remains within. She sighed slightly and shook her head. “We don’t have to do this, ya know,” her voice barely a whisper; a plea in the night.

Damien paused and glanced at her. “What? What do you mean? Now? We’re almost done.” He stepped back to the tub and motioned to the parts within. “That’s
you
in there. The real you.”

Rachel continued to stare at the remains, her mind elsewhere, her eyes not truly seeing what they were staring at. “I know, But we don’t have to do this.”

Damien dropped the rubber sheet he held and walked toward her, his eyes narrowed. “You can’t possibly be serious.”