“Sir,” one of the scientists said, stepping forward. Morgan turned his head. It was Paul. “We need to begin testing this specimen. This is an incredible find. We shouldn’t be wasting our time with torture. The simple fact is: he’s here and he’s ours.”
“Finding out why Mr. Hughes decided to show up, especially after all these years, is essential. When Mr. Kubek is finished with his persuasion techniques, then you and your team of scientists may use him as you will.”
“Sir—” Paul began, but Krueger cut him short.
“My decision is final.”
With that, the General left the room.
“I will wait with the subject, getting the blood supply ready,” Paul told the other scientists before they ushered themselves out of the room.
“Paul,” Morgan said, softly. “Get me out of here.”
Not looking at Morgan, Paul said, “I can’t. There are cameras in here. I’ll come up with something, just give me some time.”
Morgan closed his eyes, resigned to what was to come. He could have Paul release him, fight his way out, but that would severely compromise the bigger plan.
“I’ve been through this before,” he said. “It’s just going to hurt a lot for a while.” He wanted to mention Karen’s name, tell Paul to let her know what has happened. But it was too dangerous. He hoped Paul would tell Karen what was going on anyway.
“I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of here, but for now my hands are tied.” Paul held a vial of vampire blood. “Open up and drink this. It’s all that’s going to keep you alive, I fear.”
Morgan opened his mouth and drank the fluid. The taste was delicious, revitalizing his body and spirit. Two things went through his mind: one, the general wanted Morgan alive, hence the vampire blood; and two, having been given the vampire blood, Morgan knew he was in for a world of hurt.
***
A tall, skinny man wearing thick-rimmed glasses entered the room. His skin was chalk-white, and, like Krueger, he gazed at Morgan through dead eyes.
“Good evening,” he said, pulling up a stool to Morgan’s bedside. “My name is Kubek. I’m going to get right to it, then. And I’ll be fair, giving you a chance to answer my questions without persuasive measures. Why are you here?” The man spoke evenly, like a recording.
“I was looking for a job and figured I’d need a referral from my last place of work.”
Kubek opened a metal attaché case and produced a crochet-like needle from it. Standing, the man held the thick needle, point down, to Morgan’s leg just above the knee. With his other hand he removed a stainless steel hammer and pounded the needle into Morgan’s leg, not stopping until the tip hit the table underneath.
The pain was immense, as Morgan knew it would be. And he knew this was just the beginning. The only thing making the situation not all that terrible was the fact that there was no garlic on the instrument. He was at least glad for that.
“Why are you here?” the man asked again.
“Go screw your sister,” Morgan spat. A childish comment, yes, but he didn’t care.
“I do not have a sister and I can see that we need to skip a few steps.”
Morgan didn’t like the sound of the man’s words. Kubek took out more needles and before Morgan knew it, the man had begun hammering them into his flesh, from chest to feet. After a time, twenty-five long steel needles protruded from Morgan’s body, which had become a bloody mess, before he eventually fell into blackness.
Chapter 48
Karen awoke a short time after passing out. Her mind still swirled with panic, leaving her shaky and disoriented. It took her a few moments of forced, slow breathing to steady herself enough to think clearly.
Morgan was captured, maybe even dead. It took all of her will-power not to call Paul back. She had to know what the hell was going on.
The next couple of hours were the worst Karen had ever known. Finally, her phone rang. She saw that it was Paul.
“Karen, we need to meet,” he said.
“I don’t have a car.”
“Meet me at the diner on Maple Street. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Wait, Paul,” Karen said. “Is he—”
“He’s alive. I’ll meet you in thirty,” he said and hung up.
***
She waited outside the eatery, near the sidewalk, before realizing she might be making a terrible mistake. What if Paul was coerced into calling her, forced at gun point? What if the Murphy people had gotten information out of him, or worse, out of Morgan?
She quickly headed down the block and away from where she said she’d meet Paul and entered a carpet store. From there, she would be able to see his car and verify whether or not he was alone.
Twenty minutes of nervous waiting later, she spotted Paul’s car pulling into the diner’s parking lot. To her relief, he was alone or at least appeared to be. Hadn’t she, on more than one occasion, lain across the backseat, out of view?
She waited for him to exit the vehicle, but he remained inside. Her phone rang, startling her.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Karen,” Paul said. “Where are you?”
“Are you alone?”
“What?”
“Are you alone? Did anyone follow you?”
“No, no. I’m alone, now get over here.” He hung up.
Karen walked to Paul’s car. She glanced into the backseat, making sure no one was hiding there, then opened the door and climbed in.
“Paranoid?” he asked.
“Let’s just get out of here.”
They drove to the warehouse.
“What happened? she asked, her voice almost cracking. “Is he hurt? What did they do to him?”
“It’s bad, but I talked to him and we came up with a plan to get him out.”
“What’s the plan? How do we get him out of there?”
“Try to stay calm. They’re not going to kill him; not yet anyway. He’s too valuable a specimen. With Morgan being the only creature of his kind, they need to keep him alive.”
“Why don’t they just call in the priest who changed him? They could have an army of non-vampire vampires.”
“From what I know, the priest, nor anyone from his order, can be found. It’s feared they were either wiped out or went into hiding.”
Karen’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to let them dissect my friend,” she said angrily. “I don’t care if he’s been through it before. I’ll walk in there and fry all their minds, turn the place into one giant microwave.”
“I like your attitude,” Paul said, “but we need to stick to the plan. As powerful as you’ve become, you can’t take on the entire facility.” Paul chuckled. “At least not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
The man shook his head. “Damn. I let my ego rule me sometimes. Pretend I said nothing. We need to—”
“Paul?”
The man sighed. “I’ve been working on something… Something that might help amp up your abilities. A ‘just in case’ button, if you will. But it’s not ready. Not by a long shot. It hasn’t been tested and quite frankly I hope we’ll never need to use it. For now, you need to worry about tomorrow night.”
“I know what’s at stake. It haunts me every second of every day.” She stared off into the distance, letting her fury subside. After a minute of silence, she looked at Paul. “So are you going to tell me about the plan to free Morgan or do I have to pick your brain?”
“I’ll let you know the gist of it, but since you’re not going to be involved, and we are going through with the first step of taking down The Murphy Unit tomorrow, we better concentrate on that.”
Chapter 49
The next day, after a restless and agonizing night, Karen received a text message from Paul. He’d managed to find out where some of the guards were going for their night out: a tavern called McKinley’s. With Paul’s work schedule so unpredictable now, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to pick Karen up. She might have to find her own way there by taxi or bus.
With all the craziness going on, the only good news Karen had heard since Morgan’s capture was with the spaceship situation. The Murphy Unit’s prime objective was still the craft, but following Morgan’s capture they no longer concentrated one hundred percent of their resources on the goal.
At six p.m., Karen walked to the diner. Paul sent her a text message, informing her that he would be able to pick her up and was in fact on his way. Karen sent him a reply, telling him that she was at the diner and to meet her there. Eating became much easier, the food going down smoothly, after hearing that Paul would soon join her.
Ten minutes after he picked Karen up, they arrived at the bar where the soldiers were. Opting not to use the parking lot, Paul parked the car a little ways down the street and out of view from McKinley’s.
The bar was cedar-sided, a popular choice during the late ’70s and early ’80s. Two small cottage windows with illuminated neon signs advertised brands of beer. Above the entranceway, written in sun-faded and weather-beaten green and white script, was the name McKinley’s. A few motorcycles and cars were parked out front.
“You brought the wig and clothes?” Karen asked.
“Bag’s in the back seat,” Paul said, motioning unnecessarily over his shoulder. “So, we’re all good on what’s happening?”
“Yes,” Karen said, “you get them good and drunk, text me, and then I come in.”
Paul smiled. “Simple enough.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“See you in a bit,” he said on his way out of the car.
Looking totally out of place in his white button down work shirt and tan slacks, Paul walked across the street and down the sidewalk, then disappeared into the bar’s parking lot.
Karen maneuvered into the backseat and quickly grew tired while waiting for Pauls’ text, which arrived two hours later. She put on the blonde wig and changed into the clothes Paul had purchased for her: a short black mini-skirt, red heels, fishnet stockings, and a low cut top that revealed plenty of midriff. Karen had never felt so vulnerable in her life. How the hell was she supposed to pull off wearing such an outfit? She had a good figure and was pretty, but she’d never worn anything so slutty. She felt like a cheap whore, then remembered that was the part she was supposed to play this night.
She adjusted the wig one last time in the rearview mirror before stepping out of the car. Not used to the needle-thin stilettos, her legs wobbled like she was already half in the bag. She’d worn heels before, but never one’s so high and thin, ones worthy of a porn star. She had to be at least a foot taller in the things.
When traffic cleared, Karen hobbled across the street. Making it up the sidewalk and across the parking lot without falling, she managed to draw more than a few stares from patrons hanging outside the bar smoking cigarettes. A shiver tumbled down her spine and consumed her flesh in concentric circles. She looked up and met numerous sets of eyes, both male and female, and didn’t have to connect with their minds to know what they were thinking; especially the women, the resentment evident on their scowling faces.
Karen suddenly felt scared, her confidence reduced to almost nothing. She thought of what was at stake, of Morgan. Grinding her teeth, a measure of her confidence returned. She was undercover, and her performance would decide whether or not the mission got accomplished. Her body was transformed, her appearance altered. Now she needed to do the same with her mind.
She strutted her stuff: shoulders back and breasts out. Karen owned the outfit; the outfit didn’t own her.
As she approached the door, one of the male smokers moved aside. A whistle sounded off to her left, making her want to blush. She bit down on her tongue, not enough to draw blood, but giving her the extra push she needed to appear like a hardened woman.
She was hot, sexy, and had a role to play. She was an actress in a movie, giving the performance of a lifetime. She needed to do this for herself, for Paul, for the world, and most of all, for Morgan.
Chapter 50
The interior of McKinley’s was low-lit, most of the place hidden in shadow, save for the rear where the pool table shimmered under the soft golden glow of a hanging lamp. A jukebox next to the pool table played The Doors’ “Riders on the Storm.” A group of men Karen assumed were locals stood around the pool table laughing, holding pool cues and drinking bottled beer.
The bar’s countertop ran the length of the right wall. Tables and chairs took up most of the floor area, with booths along the left.
Karen scoped out the men she was sent in to probe. They sat around a table, Paul among them. The soldiers were dressed in civilian clothes, each with the same short cropped hair and square jaw. From their size, they could’ve been mistaken for a group of linebackers. She stared at them for a moment. Paul didn’t give her a glance, making her unsure whether or not he even knew she was there.
Karen sauntered to the bar and leaned over the counter’s edge, allowing her ass to become a focal point for men’s eyes.
Paul, as planned, nudged the man sitting next to him, then nodded Karen’s way. The soldier looked up and gawked, his eyes widening. The other men at the table followed suit and soon they were all glancing at Karen and commenting to each other.
Karen ordered a White Russian before turning around to survey the room. After getting her drink, she pulled a ten out of her pocket and told the bartender to keep it.
“Hey there,” a voice said.
Karen turned to her right. An emaciated man in a ripped and stained T-shirt and jeans had moved next to her. The smell he exuded was a nauseating mixture of sour milk and whiskey, and it took all of her willpower not to gag. She needed to stay stone cold and told the dirty skeleton to piss off.
“Lenny,” the bartender said. “Leave the lady alone.”
“Was just making conversation. Geez,” the guy said, and skulked away like a beaten dog.
“Sorry about him, Miss,” the bartender said. “He’s harmless.”
“It’s okay, just keep him away from me and the tips will keep coming.” With that, she pushed away from the bar and strode over to one of the booths, taking a seat that faced the Murphy men.