Authors: Heath Stallcup
“But it’s expensive Matt. I just don’t carry that kind of pocket change.”
“How expensive?” Matt asked as he turned and headed toward the hangar. Jay fell into step behind him. “My funds are limited as well, and after what happened, I can’t just drop a chunk on bulk silver.”
“I understand…wait. What happened?” Jay asked as they stepped into the hangar. His eyes took in the effects of the carnage and he stood still in shock, his eyes darting from scene to scene.
“This is after we’ve cleaned up and repaired most of the damage.” Matt’s voice was low and quiet. “We got hit.”
Jay felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him toward the elevator doors. “Who in the hell would have the balls to attack you guys? Don’t they realize what you do?”
“We’re working on it.” Mitchell pressed the button and pulled Jay back so the doors could close. “My team is tracking every scrap of information they can. As far as we can tell, they’re using weapons stolen from South American military units. Most likely sold on the black market.”
“Son of a…”
“You were talking about silver.” Matt held the elevator door for Jay who stepped out and moved toward the offices.
“I’ve got an idea. I don’t know how effective it would be, but it might stretch the silver out quite a bit.” Jay entered Matt’s office and took the first chair. “You know we manufacture the Trident round, right? It’s a machined brass alloy that breaks into three distinct pieces once it hits its target, but it’s still effectively armor piercing.”
Matt shook his head. “Honestly, I hadn’t kept up. Too many other irons in the fire.” He took his seat behind his desk and poured a cup of coffee. He held the pot up for Jay who waved him off. “Are you wanting to machine some Tridents out of the silver?”
“Yes and no.” Jay smiled mischievously. “I want to use the same cold dipping procedure we use on the .30 caliber rounds on our Tridents. They’d still have a brass core, but they’d have a silver jacket. If we make them as thick as the .30s, I really think they’d be just as effective.”
Matt leaned back in his chair and considered Jay’s idea. “How much further could you stretch the silver?”
“At least three times. Maybe slightly more, but effectively, let’s say three times. As far as cost, it will be about the same, because each round has to be hand-machined. You can’t cast these bullets. But once they’re silver jacketed, you’re talking a nasty silver round.”
“I’m guessing you have the ballistic testing to back up your claims.” Matt sipped from the bitter nectar and watched him carefully.
“You know I do or I wouldn’t be suggesting it. You can go to our website and see a lot of the testing, and I’ll give you the password to see the stuff that nobody else can see. The armor piercing tests, the gelatin tests, the Kevlar tests, etc. I keep all of that on a secure server.”
“What about the .223 ammo? Would you be loading them with your Tridents as well?”
“I can if you want me to. I think once you see what this round does in gelatin; you’ll probably want me to have some heavies machined up for the .308s as well.”
Matt nodded as he thought about Jay’s offer. “If your silver jacketing is as thick as what you did for the .30 caliber stuff, I think it will work.” He sat up and placed his coffee cup on the desk. “But, Jay, this may be a stopgap. If the rounds don’t measure up in the field…”
Jay stood and held his hands up. “I understand completely. If they don’t perform, there’s no sense in using them. Hell, send them back and I’ll reload them with the solids for you. But I really think you’ll like them once you field test them.”
“Make it happen.” Matt turned and walked to his safe. “Now. How much do you need to get this bulk silver?”
*****
The largest of the three boulders behind the hangar gave a soft yellow glow before a seam appeared along the edge and a brighter golden light burst forth. Wallace, Gonzales, and Gus Tracy all stepped through and took up defensive positions. Once they determined the area clear, they radioed the hangar guards and informed them that the rest of the island team was coming through the portal. When they received an ‘all clear’ signal they waved through the rest of the party.
Gnat stepped out into the darkness followed by Azrael and Jack. Kalen stepped out last and waving his hand over the portal sealed the boulder behind them. “Home sweet home, eh, Chief?” Pedro remarked.
Jack looked at the beat up old hangar and felt a sudden pang for Nadia. “Home is where the heart is, Popo.”
“Copy that, Chief.” The three operators slowly stood and with a final sweeping motion, fell into step and moved toward the hangar that had once been home.
“Someone approaches,” Azrael stated softly, his hand holding Jack back by the shoulder.
“Good to see your ugly mug again, Phoenix.” Dominic blocked out most of the security light as he stepped from the shadows. “As soon as they said you boys were coming in, I wanted to be first to welcome you back.”
Jack patted Azrael’s hand. “Friendly.” He turned to Dom and was nearly crushed in a bear hug.
Azrael studied the large man squeezing his commander and shook his head. “He does not appear to be acting friendly.”
Dom dropped Jack and stared behind him. “Whoa. Who are your friends?”
Jack sucked in air and placed a steadying hand on Dom’s shoulder. “These are my…team.” He pointed them out one by one. “Azrael, Gnat, and you’ve met Kalen.”
Dom gave them a toothy grin. “
Your
team? I thought you had a team of spec op wolves?”
Jack sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, so did I.” He turned back toward the hangar. “What say we get these kids settled into some kind of bunks and maybe get them fed.”
“Hell yeah, we can do that.” Dom slapped Azrael on the back and nearly jumped back as the gargoyle’s wings fluffed under his hand. “What the?”
“He’s a gargoyle. Grimlock’s baby brother.” Jack pulled Dom toward the hangar. “I’ll fill everybody in as best I can once everybody is settled.”
“Well, it’s still a mess. We’re trying to get shit picked up and fixed and cleaned up after we got hit and…”
“Wait. The hangar was hit, too?” Jack stopped and stared at Dominic. “The guys on the chopper didn’t say anything about that.”
“They probably didn’t know. The first thing they hit was our coms.” Dom pointed behind them to the large dishes that still had support cabling holding them in place while the concrete cured. “The chopper was dispatched just before the attack.”
“How bad was it?” Jack asked. “Was anybody hurt?” Pedro, Jimmy, and Gus all moved in closer to hear Dom.
“Yeah, well…Major Tufo got tore up real bad. Doc patched him up though. We think he might make it.” He sighed heavily and then turned to the three operators. “I’m sorry, guys, Bone bought it in the attack.”
All three operators were struck hard. They didn’t know the new SEAL that well, but he had seemed like a solid warrior and had more than pulled his own weight. Jack pulled Dom closer and stared at his eyes. “Who else? Was anybody else hurt?”
Dom nodded. “Yeah, we had quite a few hurt or killed. But those are the ones from the squads. The rest were support personnel.”
“Where’s Laura? Is she still…” Pedro asked, his voice nearly cracking as he asked.
“She’s still out. To be honest, I don’t know exactly where she is, but I think she’s headed back since all this happened.” Dom turned and headed toward the hangar. “Let’s get you settled and we can get you caught up.”
“Apollo was with the team that attacked us.” Jack didn’t know why he just blurted it out, but it froze Dom in his tracks. He spun on the smaller man.
“What did you just say?”
Jack nodded. “You heard me. Apollo led the wolves that attacked us on the island.” Jack could see the gears turning in Dom’s mind. The larger man glanced up and looked past Pedro, half way expecting Apollo to be standing behind his men and grinning at him as though it were a big joke.
“That can’t be. Not Apollo…”
“He said something about Maria and me lying to him and…” Jack trailed off, shaking his head. “Sheridan put him up to it.”
“Sheridan? Your old pal from Team One?”
Jack grimaced. “He’s not my pal. But yeah, same asshole.”
Dom stiffened and shot a glance back at the hangar. “The colonel needs to know this.”
*****
Damien unloaded the meager supplies and began setting them up under Lilith’s direction. He would make the smallest of adjustments according to her careful eye. He didn’t know why everything needed to be just so, but he knew that if his goddess wanted it so, it would be.
Once he had everything exactly as she thought it should be, he stood to the side and watched her. She walked around the ceremonial site twice and inspected everything exactingly. Damien had painted the glyphs on the floor exactly as she stated they should be. He painstakingly placed each object where she stated they needed to be. He even located where true north was rather than trust a compass to tell him where magnetic north was. He didn’t dare be off at all for her.
“Mistress, if I may ask…” His voice was dry and hoarse as he whispered his question. She continued to study the placement of each object, staring with an intensity that he couldn’t comprehend. “What is the meaning of all of this?”
“You may ask.” She stood and strode purposefully to the next item, studying it’s placement for what seemed an inordinate amount of time.
Damien cleared his throat and stood slightly taller, “Mistress, what is the meaning of all of this?”
“I already told you. To call my Legion to me.” She continued to study the placement and shook her head. “Something is
off
, but I can’t tell what.”
“What is your Legion, Mistress?”
Lilith stood and stepped away from the pentagram on the floor, the double layered circle around it drawn and painted with perfection. Slowly she turned to him and cocked her head slightly. “Poor little vampire. You truly have no idea, do you?”
Damien tried not to cower in her presence, but he could feel himself shaking as she stared at him. He watched with a fascinating horror as she raised her arms to him, inviting him closer. “Come to me, child.”
Damien wanted nothing more than to run and hide. To put as much distance between himself and her as he possibly could, but…her call called him like a magnet pulled steel. His body moved toward her as though he no longer controlled it. He wanted to scream or cry or plea for forgiveness as her arms wrapped around him and he felt her fingers stroke his hair. “You want nothing more than to sink your fangs into me and taste true power, isn’t that right, little vampire?”
Damien tried to recoil with horror. “N-no, Mistress. I would never…”
“Tsk-tsk, Damien. You and I both know that you prefer the ghoulish ways. You prefer meat in your stomach to blood.” She held her arm out to him and taunted him. “Go ahead, child. Eat of my flesh.”
Damien felt revulsion even as his mouth opened and he felt his lips wrap around the tender flesh of her arm. He could taste the copper of her blood as his fangs sliced into her flesh and although his mind screamed ‘no’ his body refused to listen as it bit deeper into her muscle and ripped a large chunk free from the bone. He could feel her warm blood running down his chin and neck as he chewed and savored the taste of his goddess.
With horrid fascination he watched as her flesh renewed itself before his very eyes, his mouth still full of her flesh and blood. He swallowed and felt…not a surge of energy from millennia of power built walking the earth, but memories. Memories of a simpler time. When mankind wore skins to cover himself and protect from the elements. When the first thoughts of civilization began to take root. When man first domesticated animals for food and beasts of burden. When plants were first cultivated…he was watching it all from her eyes. And he knew. She wasn’t the first vampire…
Damien fell to the ground as his body fought the flesh now churning in his stomach. Images continued to flash across his mind and the harder he fought against them, the harder they pierced the veil of his own memories, forcing their way to the forefront and threatening to explode his eyes from their sockets.
He saw mankind as it manipulated fire. As it prayed to rocks and clouds in the sky. As it made gods of anything it didn’t understand. He watched as the hairless apes slowly developed into things more akin to the food source he knew today.
Damien rolled over and got his knees under him, pushing up and trying to force the foreign flesh from his body. He gagged and hurled, lurched, and spat; but the offending flesh clung to his guts like a parasite, forcing the memories into him.
Damien saw the garden. The beauty of it astounded him. He saw the Adam through her eyes and, although it called to him, she pushed it away. She had been created from the earth itself just as the Adam had been. She was his equal and would not be subjugated. He watched as she left…hovering just outside the gates…watched as the Eve was created from the Adam’s rib. He could feel her anger, her betrayal. He watched as she ran blindly into the wilderness.
Damien tried once more to expel the flesh but it refused to give up its grip on him. He gasped for air as he lay on the cold cement floor. Rolling to his side, he curled into the fetal position and surrendered to the visions.