Wayward Son (4 page)

“Barely,” Doc stated through clenched teeth.

“Is there a chance he’ll turn?” She turned and faced Matt. “He wouldn’t want that.”

Matt shook his head. “No. He can’t turn from what Doc’s doing. And Evan said that he wasn’t bit, this was all done by claws. He’s not infected.”

She trembled as she stared at the scene, unable to see her husband behind the flurry of work. “I need to be by his side.”

“Of course. Let me…”

“He’s flat-lined!” a tech stated, pulling a stethoscope from his chest before pulling the rubber sheeting away. “Prep a heart needle!”

Tracy froze and her grip on Matt’s hand tightened. “No.”

“Let them work,” Matt’s whispered voice soothed. “He’s a tough old bastard. He isn’t going out like this.”

“I couldn’t take it if anything…” She turned and buried her face in his shoulder. Matt clumsily stroked her shoulder.

From the lab he watched the tech look up to Doctor Peters and shook his head. “He’s gone.”

3

As Marco pulled away from the docks in the black SUV, Paul cradled his brother’s burnt body in the back of the vehicle. “We need to get blood in him fast.” He kept his voice steady, but the urgency was apparent.

“We have emergency blood stored off-site. I’m heading there now.”

Paul glanced out the window and watched as rows of commercial buildings whizzed past. “Emergency blood? Do you mean animal blood?”

“No, sir. Emergency as in human blood.” Marco took the left turn a little too quickly and caused Paul to lose his balance, slamming into the side of the SUV. “It’s bagged blood, but it’s human. It will have to hold him until we can get a donor.”

“Donor?” Paul glared at the driver. “Take me someplace where there are people, and I’ll convince them to donate.”

Marco’s eyes hardened as he stared at the vampire in the rear view mirror. “Monsieur Thorn wouldn’t want it that way.”

“Rufus may have no choice!” Paul leaned across the rear seat back and pointed at Marco, “Get me a live person. He needs fresh, human blood, and lots of it. I don’t care if it’s a prostitute, a homeless person, or the president of the United fucking States.”

Marco ground his teeth as he accelerated the large SUV through the commercial areas. He knew a place where professionals worked. Ladies of the night…but at this early morning hour, he doubted any would still be lingering. The dock workers would be too obvious and there would be too many prying eyes if he approached any. That only left the homeless or the illegals. Shaking his head, he turned toward the heart of the city. “This is on your head.”

“Of course it’s on my head,” Paul repeated. “Not that he’ll actually remember it once he’s come back.”

Marco drove near the closest home improvement store. He spotted a few day laborers hovering near the entrance and slowed the truck. “Stay low while I lure them inside.”

Paul sunk low in the rear of the SUV. “Nothing like ethnic food.”

Marco rolled down his window and whistled to the small handful of men. In Spanish he announced that he needed two men for a day’s work. A pair of young men jogged toward the truck.

“What are you working on?” the taller one asked.

“Just cleaning up a rent house. Mostly hauling off trash maybe a little painting. If things work out, it might turn into a couple days’ worth of work.”

The two men nodded and slipped into the truck. One crawled into the rear seat while the other sat up front. “How far is it?”

“Not far. In fact, just a few blocks from here.” Marco pulled out and turned back toward the warehouse district. “First we need to pick up some equipment though.”

As they drove, the man in the backseat leaned forward. “Hey, do you smell something burning?”

Marco studied him in the rear view mirror and shook his head. “Nope. Damned allergies, I can’t smell a thing.”

He pulled into one of Thorn’s abandoned warehouses and hit the button to shut the door of the building. As Paul leaned across the back seat and grabbed the man closest to him, Marco punched the other man in the front seat, effectively knocking him out cold.

“Try not to make a mess, will ya?”

*****

“Move!” Evan yelled as he spat the rubber tube from his mouth and slid in next to Major Tufo. Raising his fist into the air, he brought it down hard onto his chest, effectively shocking his heart into beating again. “I need a heart needle and adrenaline.”

The technician near Mark’s head held a stethoscope to his chest and listened. He pulled it away and shook his head. Evan pelted his chest again, careful not to hit too hard lest he shatter the ribcage and send splinters into his heart. An assistant slipped in next to Doctor Peters and handed him the long needle. “Adrenaline.”

Evan slipped it between the ribs near the sternum and plunged the liquid directly into the muscle. “Come on, dammit. Beat!” He began doing chest compressions while another assistant bagged him, effectively breathing for the man. After the third round of compressions, he stopped and they checked for a pulse again.

“I got it!” The tech moved the stethoscope up near his neck and listened for the heartbeat at the jugular. “It’s weak, but it’s there. Let’s push more blood.”

Evan stepped aside while they hung another bag of blood then donned clean gloves. He waited for the go ahead to begin stitching the man up again. None in the surgical area heard the sobbing from feet away as Mitchell kept the major’s wife from collapsing.

Evan continued to work at a feverish pace, praying to any god that would listen to a vampire’s prayer that he could save the man. He barely noticed when a masked woman appeared near the major’s face and took his hand in hers. She whispered sweet words of encouragement in his ear as he continued to work.

Mitchell paced, his eyes casting furtive glances toward the surgery. Finally he approached the group and asked, “How much longer?”

Without looking up, Evan reached for another suture and replied, “I’m about to close his lower abdomen. I’ve stitched together his insides as best I can.”

“Will he make it, Doc?” Mitchell’s voice cracked, dry from worry.

Evan shrugged slightly. “To be honest, Colonel, I’m shocked he’s made it this far.”

Matt stood by and watched as Evan inserted drain tubes, then wrapped Mark with layer upon layer of sterile gauze. The entire team then wrapped him tightly with thick tape then placed him ever so gently on a clean gurney with fresh sheets and prepared to wheel him to a room. Evan pulled the mask from his face and Mitchell cringed at the coagulated blood crusted around his mouth and stuck between the lines of his teeth. He felt a sickening twist of his guts as he realized
where
that blood had come from, but he shook it off. Mark wouldn’t be breathing if it hadn’t been for Evan’s efforts.

“What are his chances, Doc?” Mitchell watched as they wheeled him off to a junior officer’s quarters and prepared to convert it to a recovery room.

“Don’t ask me that, Colonel.” Evan stripped his gloves and pulled the smock from his chest. He worked his mouth and spat a coagulated glob into the floor drain. “By all rights, he shouldn’t have even made it down here, much less survived the surgery.”

Matt lowered his face and felt his eyes threaten to betray him. “But you’re sure he won’t…”

“No. None of the damage was from a bite. And from the amount of blood we pushed into him, I would hazard a guess that we thoroughly transfused him.” Evan nearly collapsed into a chair and ran a hand through his hair. “Not that a transfusion would save him had he been infected. I was just saying that…well…no. He’s not infected.”

“You’re exhausted, Doc. The sun’s up. You should get some rest.” Matt patted the man’s shoulder as he stepped past him. “Whether he makes it or not, I need you to know that I…” Matt’s voice trailed off as the words caught in his throat.

“I understand, sir.” Evan stood and met his gaze. “Perhaps you should check on the rest of the operation. Make an appearance anyway. Let them know about Major Tufo.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Matt turned and headed for the doorway to the stairwell.

“I’ll check in on him and I’ll have my field medics rotate in and out as well.”

“Thank you, Doc. If there’s any change in his status, let me know.”

“Of course.” Evan watched as Mitchell disappeared through the doorway and sighed. He stared at the pile of bloody gauze and sponges that lay at the floor of his lab and the coagulated puddles that jellied as they streamed toward the floor drain.

He knew that he should clean his lab now while it would still be somewhat easy, but he debated with the demon inside. Major Tufo was loved by all. He would be missed as much or more than anyone with the squads. He knew in his heart of hearts that the man couldn’t survive his wounds. He had been so tempted to ‘accidentally’ cut his finger or stab himself while suturing and squeeze enough blood into a major artery that perhaps…

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. No. He wouldn’t wish his existence on anybody.

Still…

What would Mrs. Tufo do?

*****

“Jack!” Nadia tried to waddle-run to him in the soft sand, and Jack rushed to meet her. He smiled at the sight and prayed that she would think that he was simply happy to see her. Picking her up, he swung her around then kissed her gently before setting her back on her feet.

“Nadia, why are you here?” He walked her toward the castle and further from the slowing blades of the helicopter. “If you had shown up earlier, it could have been very dangerous.”

She stopped and jerked his arm. “It was dangerous whether I was here or not, Mr. Thompson.”

Uh-oh. He knew that tone. “Sweetheart, that’s what I do. Remember? I’m the head of…”

“Do not pretend with me, Jack!” Her voice caught him off guard with her genuine concern. “You enjoy battle. Even with my warning, you stayed here in hopes…” Nadia’s eyes fell on Pedro, Jimmy and Gus.

Jack followed her gaze then tried to set her mind at ease. “No, Nadia…no.” He spun her back around and faced her. “No, they’re the good guys. They arrived here to help and they did. They helped to fight off the attackers and…”

“And who were the attackers?”

“They were, uh, wolves.” Jack pointed to the bodies of some of the fallen that were slowly shifting back to their human form. “Yes, we did lose a few Lycans in the battle, but we came out victorious in the end.”

Nadia huffed and pushed past him. “The castle is in ruins. The outbuildings are destroyed. The stables have been demolished. The beaches are mutilated. Were you not able to save anything?”

Jack looked around at the destruction and shrugged. “There were a lot of them.” She glared at him, as if he had just proven her point for her. “They had a helicopter gunship. It’s sort of hard to beat one of those.”

“If you had listened to me in the first place—”

Jack interrupted her, his tone suddenly a mixture of anger and bitterness. “Then I’d probably be dead. I invited my squad mates here and they had the experience and skill needed to turn the tide of this battle. If they hadn’t been here, we’d have lost a lot more Lycans, and more than likely Robert and I both would be dead.”

She nearly staggered back from the tone of his voice, her eyes wide. “I never…I mean…I saw the attack and you were…”

“Yes, we were under attack, Nadia, but my people weren’t the ones behind it. As you can see, they’re still standing and the only reason I am is because they were here.”

“Ahem.” Kalen cleared his throat and leaned heavily on his bow.

Jack blushed then stepped toward his warrior Elf friend. “And Kalen and Horith as well.” He paused and turned quietly to Kalen. “If you need to check on him, I totally understand. With Rufus AWOL, I’m betting the mission to Geneva is off.”

Kalen shook his head. “They will send word one way or the other.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “Words can’t express how bad I feel for what happened.”

“What did happen?” Nadia asked from behind him.

“Horith fell in battle.” Kalen stated plainly. “I sent him back to the Wyldwood.”

“We counted nine leaving by boat,” Bartholomew stated as he approached the trio. “Considering the bodies scattered about, they had a force of over fifty. Heavily armed, too.” He tossed an assault rifle on the ground at Jack’s feet.

“And you have no idea who sent them?” Nadia raised a brow at Jack, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

Jack knelt and retrieved the assault rifle. “This is a Sig 552 Commando.” He wiped the sand from the receiver and pulled the spent magazine from the weapon. “Practically new, too.”

Kalen reached for the weapon and examined it. Sniffing it he wrinkled his brow and handed it back. “All I smell is wolf. And gun powder.”

Jack looked around the remains of the battlefield. Motioning to Robert, he held up the rifle. “Have you collected their weapons?”

“All that we’ve found are being stacked near the entrance to the castle.” Robert hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the pile.

“Are they all Sigs?”

“Yup, commandos and a few P226 Tacticals.” Robert turned to Jack and closed the distance to the small group. “Why? What’s up with the weaponry?”

“It’s just that…these aren’t exactly common weapons for the U.S. These are SOG weapons for most European teams.”

Robert nodded in agreement. “And some South American nations use them as well.”

“As soon as the bodies finish shifting, get a collection of prints. We need to get them to Colonel Mitchell and see if he can run them for us.” Jack turned to Pedro. “Break out your coms, Popo. You need to fill the colonel in on what’s happened here.”

“What exactly do you want me to tell him? Are we headed back to Tinker?”

Jack rubbed at his chin and tried to avoid Nadia’s eyes boring a hole into his head. “Tell him the mission to Geneva is cancelled. I’m sending the Lycans back to the pack with Nadia for now. Meanwhile, I’ll come back with you and we can regroup.”

“And what of us, Chief Jack?” Kalen shifted his weight on the bow. “We were promised a chance at vampires and yet…we’ve only taken a few wolf pelts.” He glanced at the gnome near his leg and smiled.