Coalition of the Damned - 03 (30 page)

Dom plopped back into the sand and held his head in his hands. “I am, but…this is driving me nuts,” he said softly. “It’s like its right on the tip of my mind, but it’s just out of reach.”

Lou sat down next to him and shielded his eyes with his hand. He looked up at the sun and shook his head. “This is damned strange, boy.”

“I know. You’d think it would eventually come back to me…”

“No, I mean the sun.” he continued staring at the sky. “It’s been high noon all day. You’d think the sun would move a little across the sky.”

Dom looked up at him as if he were crazy. “You’re worried about the sun?”

“I’m worried that your time here is limited and without a way to measure it, we have no idea how long we’ve been here.”

Dom studied him a moment and realized just how worried his grandfather was. “How long do I have?”

Lou shook his head. “I don’t know.” He turned and looked at Dom, shrugging his shoulders. “Nobody ever gets an instruction book. I just…know. Your time here is limited.” He stood up and brushed the sand from his shorts. “And we have to eat.”

“We got bananas and coconuts and…” Dom started.

“Yeah,” Lou laughed, “we do, but you need to be careful. Coconuts will give you the squirts, bananas will clog you up and those berries over there? I have no idea if they’re even edible.” He pointed back at the water. “That’s why I was trying to catch us some fish.”

Dom shoved his hands into the moist sand and squeezed again. It had such a calming effect on him and he didn’t know why. Lou watched him a moment and then hunkered down next to him and pulled his hands out of the sand. Dom struggled against him, trying to drive his hands back in the sand. “What are you doing, Grumpy…stop it.”

“Why do you keep shoving your hands in the sand?” he asked.

“I don’t know…I like playing in the dirt,” he said. “I need to…”

“That’s not dirt, boy, that’s sand,” Lou said, still pulling at his hands. Dom struggled with him but the old man was stronger than he looked. “Stop it, boy.”

“No, I need…I, I need…”

“You need to remember something and you aren’t sticking your hands back in the sand until you…”

“It’s not
sand
, it’s
dirt
,” Dom nearly snarled. The old man held him tight, his face like stone as he continued to hold his hands. “Stop it!”

“Tell me why it’s so damned important to you and I might,” Lou argued.

“I don’t know why, it just is…” He was cut off as Lou dragged him to the edge of the jungle where the plant life was thick and used his foot to kick away the detritus to expose the rich soil below.

“You see that, boy?” he said as the deep, rich aroma of the dark soil rose up to Dom’s nostrils. “
That
is dirt.” Dom fought harder this time, the desire to stick his hands into the dirt almost overwhelming. He wanted to roll in it, to lay in it, to
sleep
on it. “Tell me why it’s important,” the old man ordered.

“I…don’t know,” Dom choked out, still struggling. He had to have the dirt. It called to him, it needed him…no, he needed it. It was safety to him. It preserved him somehow. It was…
important
to him. It would keep him safe. It would…

“Tell me why it’s so damned important to you boy. Why do you want to stick your hands into it?” Lou barked.

“I don’t just want to stick my hands into it. I want to lay on it. I want to sleep on it…I
need
to!” he cried. Dom began to shake now, the tremors rocking his core. He could feel whatever block that was in his head start to crack and it hurt. It felt as though an ice pick were being driven through the center of his brain and he pulled his hands away from Lou’s with a jerk and grasped at his head, clutching the sides in agony. “No-o-o!” he screamed as he fell to the ground, rolling to the sides, clutching his temples.

Lou fell beside him and was yelling to overcome the onrush of pain, “Tell me boy, tell your Grumpy what it is…” He got lower to the ground and next to his ear and whispered against the onrush of pain, “Tell me what it is…why the dirt, boy?”

When the wall finally shattered, the vampire’s secret revealed to him, Dom’s eyes flew open and he sat up, his breath coming in pants. He turned to his grandfather and slowly a smile came to his face. He chuckled at first and then laughed out loud. He pulled his grandfather into a hug and squeezed the old man to him tightly. “I know now,” he said softly.

Lou pulled away from him and stared him in the eye. “Are you sure, boy?”

Dom laughed as tears formed in his eyes. “Oh yeah, Grumpy, I’m sure.”

Lou sat down hard in the dirt next to him and with his hands resting on his knees, he sighed heavily and nodded. “Good. B
ecause I was starting to worry that…”

“What?” Dom asked.

Lou snorted. “I was afraid we had run out of time and you were losing it.” He sighed again and reached out and patted Dom on the leg. “You have no idea how worried I’ve been…” He stopped mid-sentence as the sun suddenly set and the stars began twinkling.

Both men sat in the darkness staring at the sky, an eerie oh-shit feeling shared between them. Dom looked at his grandfather and said, “Suddenly I’m very thirsty.”

“Yeah…I imagine so,” he said cautiously. “Look, Dom…” Lou began, turning to him urgently. “I may not have much time left with you, so I want to ask you to do something for me, okay?”

“Anything, Grumpy, you know that,” Dom said, suddenly afraid that he’d disappear as quickly as he appeared.

“When you get back, please, tell Grammy that I miss her. Let her know that I meant to come home and spend the rest of my life with her,” he said, tears forming in his old weather worn eyes. “Tell her…I love her.”

“Grumpy,” Dom began, his chest tightening and his eyes misting, “she already knows.”

The old man nodded sharply and sniffed back a few tears. “I figured as much.” He looked up at the stars and breathed deeply of the cooling night air. “Heart of gold, that one.”

“Yeah, you picked a winner with Gram,” Dom said. They both sat silent for a moment before Dom sat up and got to his feet. He stuck his hand out to help Lou up, but he was already gone. The only indication that he was ever there was the impre
ssion he had left in the dirt. Dom looked around the area and stared at the spot where his grandfather had last been. Dom slowly fell to his knees, the tears flowing freely. “I never got to say goodbye,” he whispered.

He fell over and rolled on to his back, the tears flowing freely and he sobbed. “Thank you, Grumpy,” he whispered. “Thank you for helping me…” He pressed his eyes closed to block out the pain and heartbreak and he sucked a huge amount of air to cleanse his mind. He lay there in the dark, doing his best to control his breathing, to bring his emotions under control, to try to figure out what he should do next.

Dom allowed himself only a few moments to gather himself before he decided it was time to carry on. As much as he hurt, both emotionally and physically, he had to push on. He inhaled one more breath of the cool sanitized air and opened his eyes. He glanced around the darkness and saw the medical monitors hooked to him. The lighted numbers on the machines showing his heart rate, O2 levels, and blood pressure levels. He glanced in the other direction and saw a table with charts and paperwork on it. The lights were off in his room, but the moonlight through his window illuminated enough of the interior that he knew he was back in the hospital room in Italy.

It had all been a dream. A wild, crazy dream induced by the drugs that the Team Two members shot him up with. He sat up slowly and pulled the blankets off of him. As the leads fell off of him, the machine at his bedside registered alarms that he chose to ignore. He pushed the machine to get it away from him as his head was still throbbing from his concussion. He slid his feet out of bed and felt grit in the sheets. Pulling the blankets back fu
rther, he ran his hand across the sheet and found…beach sand? His feet and the sheets were covered in beach sand. And no matter how Dom tried to explain it away, he couldn’t.

He stumbled into the bathroom and flipped on the light. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sharp brightness of the overhead fluorescent bulb as it flickered to life. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and was shocked at the growth of facial hair. He ran his fingers across his face and saw his hands in the mirror. Pulling them back, he studied them in the harsh fluorescent light. There was dark colored dirt embedded into his nail beds and thick layers of it under his nails. He held them close to his eyes and studied them. He pulled one closer to his face and held his fingertips under his nose…with a deep lung-filling sniff he smelled his fingers and the aroma of the soil u
nder his fingers was exactly that of the soil from the island in his dream.

Dom staggered back against the bathroom wall and stared at his hands. His dirt encrusted hands... and questioned
how
they could have gotten that way.

And then he remembered…the importance of the dirt and he turned to leave the bathroom as two nurses came into his room to investigate the alarms from his monitor. “Mr. DeGiacomo, you
must
return to your bed,” she said as he pushed past her.

“Where are my clothes?” he barked.

“What?!”

“My uniform? Where is it?” He stood in the middle of his room in his hospital gown and nearly growled at the woman.

She shook with fear and her eyes betrayed her as they darted to the storage cabinet on the far side of the room. The other nurse darted from the room to get security. “Thanks,” he muttered as he marched to the storage cabinet and pulled his gear from the locker. Of course, his weapons had been confiscated, most likely by Team Two personnel, but at least he had some clothes. A bit ratty and torn, but thankfully someone had cleaned them.

He put them on as quickly as he could and made for the door in time to see three large security guards running down the hall toward his room. “Great,” he muttered as he went back into the room and propped the door shut with a chair.

Dom looked around and made for the window.
Great, another second story jump
. At least he felt better this time. His wrist hardly hurt any more, but there was still a slight pain as he pulled the window open. He settled on the ledge and jumped to the grass below. He looked back up at the open window and made for the shadows to try to conceal himself should any more security come for him. He had to get to a safe place and contact Colonel Mitchell. He had to have him arrange for getting him stateside.

He pulled up alongside a building and scanned both ways to make sure the coast was clear. As he stepped out along the way he heard sirens approaching and knew they were meant for him. He sighed and ducked back into the shadows. This journey was going to be tough enough, but now he had unlocked the secret that was nagging at his mind and he had to get it to the Monster Squad. For whatever reason, he felt it was important. It might, in fact, be the key to bringing down the Sicarii.

Coming Soon: 

Blood Apocalypse –

A Monster Squad Novel

Also by Heath Stallcup:

Return of the Phoenix –

A Monster Squad Novel

Full Moon Rising –

A Monster Squad Novel

Caldera

Heath Stallcup

Edited by TW Brown

Cover Art by Ronak Kothari

PROLOGUE

UPPSALA UNIVERSITY, SWEDEN

Dr. Neils Andersson stared into the microscope and watched for enzymatic changes as the pipette dripped the clear solution o
nto the slide below.  He sighed to himself as sleet beat against the window announcing the next winter storm to slicken the university campus and forming an icy cap to the foot of snow already blanketing the grounds.

Rubbing at his neck, he pushed back from the workbench and made his notes in the lab book and tossed his glasses aside.  He rubbed at his tired eyes and ran his hand through his thick blonde hair then stretched his shoulders to regain some circul
ation into his upper body.  Standing slowly, he stepped to the window to watch the grey black clouds that hung pregnantly over the horizon dump their icy moisture onto the grounds below.  Most of the students had already scampered indoors or had refused to venture out due to the weather and he couldn't blame them.  Most of their professors had cancelled classes because of the winter storm.

He turned back to stare at the upcoming tests he had waiting and sighed once more...science never waited for those who searched for answers.  Picking up his cooled mug of tea, he sat back at his station and prepared his next experiment.  Working with Neanderthal DNA wasn't exactly the sort of science that could make one a rock star in his field, but he enjoyed it, and the answers he hoped to find would satisfy his own curiosity and that of his peers.  What happened to these people?  How did they disappear when they had the obvious advantages?  They were stronger, more adept to their environment, they were skilled hunters and had rudimentary tools.  It was obvious that they weren't killed off by early modern man.  So what happened?

Neils prepared his next sample and prepared to wait.  He was becoming worried that the samples were tainted.  Mitochondrial DNA shouldn't ALL be the same, but these samples were coming up that way, which made him fear that somehow they had been tainted by the collectors.  Mitochondrial DNA is passed from the mother to child only in all mammals.  Yet somehow, all of the samples were coming up the same.  And with no variations in the samples at all, he could only draw one conclusion...

Neils prepared the next batch for replication and reheated his tea for the third...fourth time?  He shrugged at the thought and smiled to himself.  What difference did it make.  Tea was tea.  As long as it was warm on a day like today, that was what ma
ttered.

He took his seat and waited for the timer to sound when his computer chimed.  Neils rolled his chair over and clicked the enter button to awaken the machine and saw the video confe
rence icon flashing.  Clicking it, the screen lit up and he saw the concerned face of a respected colleague, Dr. Vivian LaRue, who had been studying the caves of Nerja in southern Spain.

"Vivian.  So nice to see you again." he said, smiling.

"Neils." She didn't smile in return and her eyes kept scanning something off screen, "I keep finding something odd in this DNA profiling.  I thought I'd double check with you since you're the expert."

Neils nodded and leaned closer, noting how he appeared in the little window in the corner of his own screen.  "Anything I can do to help."

"We've run these mitochondrial samples four times..." she began.  Neils sighed, nodding.  "They all return with disturbing results." She finally looked up to meet his eyes on the screen.

"I'm running into the same thing here, Vivian." Neils replied.  "I can assure you though, the procedure is valid.  We've been using it for decades."

She studied his image for a moment then glanced off-screen and lowered her voice, "I would offer that perhaps the DNA was compromised by whomever collected it..."

Neils could tell by the sound of her voice that she had more to say.  "But?"

"Neils, I collected it myself." She answered quietly.  "I know I used proper protocols."

Neils sat back and considered the possibilities.  "That only leaves two possibilities."

"Which are?" Her eyes widened with curiosity.

"Well, it's simple really." He tossed his hands up.  "If you used proper protocols, then the results are valid and you have the correct DNA profiles."

"Or?"

"Or somebody tampered with the reagents."

Vivian sat back and studied his image for a moment, her jaw quivering.  "We should meet."

"I agree." He lowered his voice as well.  "Because I've run the same test on a different group of 'tals and I've gotten the same results."

This time her eyes bugged as she sat forward.  "You what?" She paused a moment to collect her thoughts.  "That isn't possible."

He inhaled deeply and nodded, "I'm afraid it is." He held up a printout of his results.  "I printed it out and compared them just to make sure, and it is spot on identical."

"Neils...that isn't..." her eyes darted to the side.

"Not even with inbreeding to the nth degree it isn't."

"So what does it all mean?" Her eyes probed his displayed image. "I simply couldn't dream that anybody would want to conspire to..."

"No." Neils interrupted.  "I'm not going to go that far." He stood up and paced not caring that he was walking in and out of the frame of the video conference.  "But I might go so far as to think that perhaps the manufacturer of the reagents had a bad batch of chemicals."

Vivian sat back and considered the possibility.  "I suppose."  But she shook her head again, "But they're so basic, Neils, how could it slip past..."

"I'm just playing Devil's Advocate, that's all."

"Fine.  Where do you get yours?"

He paused and looked at her.  He shrugged.  "I'm not...um...hold on."  He walked over to the workbench and pulled down the reagent box.  "They're from Germany.  A r
esearch laboratory..."

"Ours come from France." She interrupted him.  "So what are the odds?"

He plopped back into his chair and stared at her image.  "Where do you want to meet?"

"Somewhere warmer than where you're at?" She finally smiled at him.

*****

"Vivian, we've run the test four times.  It always comes back the same." Neils sighed and pushed his glasses up on his head.  "I don't know what to tell you."

"It isn't possible that two separate groups of Neanderthals from two different regions would share the same mitochondrial DNA."

"I'm not disagreeing." He wanted to pace to allow himself to think better.  "But the science says otherwise."

"Then the science is wrong!" She slammed the notebook down.  "Science is often wrong until it's..."

"What?" Neils asked, his brows raised.

"Well, until it's right."

Neils chuckled and set his own notes down.  "Trust me, Viv.  I understand your frustration." He stood and rubbed at her shou
lders.  "But yelling and throwing things won't change the results."

"What are we doing wrong?" She groaned as she stretched her neck under his artful hands.

He shook his head.  "Nothing." He exhaled long and hard.  "It simply is what it is." He continued to kneed at her stiff muscles as his mind kept working over the results.

A technician entered with another batch of replicated DNA and placed the vials on the bench.  "It's ready doctors."  He said as he placed the vials down.  As he turned to leave, he stifled a r
ather loud sneeze into his sleeve then turned abruptly to the two researchers.  "Pardon.  Nasty virus going around."

Neils simply raised a hand and waved him on.  The technician gave a quick apologetic nod of his head and stepped out.  Neils chuckled, "Please, remind me to use a hand sanitizer after we strip th
ese gloves.  I wouldn't want to catch this..." he trailed off.

"What?" Vivian turned a curious eye to him.  "The bug g
oing around the clinic here?"

Neils sat down hard in his chair and stared at her, a silly grin forming on his features.  "Virus."

"Yes?" she replied.  "I believe that's what he said."

"No." He laughed.  "A virus!" He slapped at his leg.

"I'm not following you." Vivian was lost as Neils began fumbling through his research papers.

"We were looking for the wrong thing..." He pulled up the printout he had brought from his original sampling and pushed his roller chair over to Vivian's research material.  He scattered the papers until he found the printout from her own.  "Aha!"

"I'm still not following you, Neils." Her voice hesitant.

"It was a virus!" He giggled.  "This whole time we thought we were mapping mitochondrial DNA, but it wasn't.  That's the only thing that can explain it."

"No, that's not possible, Neils.  A virus isn't that complex." She pulled her glasses back on.

Neils placed both print outs up to the light box and clicked it on.  "Look.  If it's the same virus and it replicates itself, then it overwrites the hosts DNA.  We know this, correct?"

"Well, yes, technically, a virus enters a cell and uses the cell's materials to replicate itself, but, we are mapping mitochondrial DNA, not cellular DNA, so..."

"But what if this virus
targets
mitochondrial DNA?" His voice rising as he posed the question.

She sat back and stared at him.  "I'm no virologist, but I've not heard of such a bug."

"I've not either, but that doesn't mean they don't exist." He smiled at her.  "And who's to say what virus strains exists in the Paleolithic period?" He tapped the light box and indicated the repeating patterns.  "Look at these patterns.  They keep repeating over and over and over.  Doesn't that seem more than just a little off?"

"Well...yes." She finally admitted.  "But do you really think we're mapping a disease?"

He sat back and chuckled again.  "It would explain why two different groups from two different regions ALL share the same DNA when it should be lineal, don't you think?"

Vivian sighed as she stared at the light box and the repeating patterns.  "So, despite having ruined samples, and no way to di
scern lineage, or good working samples, or ways to discern familial types..."

"We may have discovered what really killed off Neanderthal man." Neils theorized.