Something of the Night Page 12

“But how?” Jacob asked, open-mouthed.

  “Me and Black Bird go back a long way,” Ben said wistfully.

  “How long? This thing must be ancient.”

  “Wait – no,” Ben replied, with a shake of his head. “You’re thinking of ‘Nam, right?”

  “Must be,” Jacob said.

  A soft chuckle escaped from the large guy’s hidden lips. “Think again. The US Army remanufactured the old UH-1N as the UH-1Y, at the beginning of the new millennium.”

  “Really?” Jacob said. “And what’s that mean?”

  “It means this baby didn’t come into service until 2003 at the earliest. This baby has been modified to withstand a 23mm round direct to the main and tail rotors.” His hand patted the fuselage with loving affection.

  Jacob looked back blankly.

  Ben continued, “Look, the Hueys that flew missions towards the end of Vietnam were susceptible to ground-fire. So, the Army added additional armour-plating to the hull and replaced the old aluminium rotors with special composite ones that can withstand a direct hit. It’d take something with a real punch to knock this baby out of the sky.”

  “Impressive,” Jacob remarked.

  “There’s more,” Ben said. “Follow me.” He led the tracker round to the front of the aircraft. “This is a fully integrated glass cockpit with night-vision goggle compatibility. Combine this with the TopOwl Helmet and you’ve got yourself advanced visor projection, with image intensifiers and forward looking infrared. That’s the good news. The bad news is: the satellite communications interface and modem are useless. We’ve lost navigation and the weapons management system too. Still, we’ve got the GAU-17A machinegun up front – that puppy fires 3,000 rounds per minute – and two 0.50 Brownings aft and starboard. The GAU-17A is a simple point and fire, whereas the Brownings require individual gunners to control them.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jacob said. “If you’re not looking for fuel and you’ve got all this firepower, then what the hell is it you are looking for?”

  Ben placed his hands over his hips. “Have you any idea how heavy the Brownings alone weigh?”

  “No… ”

  Ben remained silent for a second as his mind flicked through the flight manual that was stored somewhere inside his head. “A lot,” he answered, unable to find the exact details.

  “So?”

  “So, we need mobile munitions to accomplish our directive.”

  “What directive?”

  “To exterminate the legions of undead.”

  “What, with this?” Jacob asked, holding up his handgun.

  “No, stupid,” Ben chided. “But we need them to help us salvage what we do need.”

  “Which is?”

  Ben’s face turned sombre. “Man’s last hope.”

  “Man’s last hope?” Jacob repeated.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Ben confirmed.

  “What are you talking about?”

  An exaggerated sigh escaped from Ben’s lips, “No imagination,” he said, with a mournful shake of his head. “Look, bombs and bullets may well kill the vampires, but what we need is something that’ll wipe out an entire platoon in one go.”

  “But what about this?” Jacob asked, his hand resting against the barrel of the Browning. The thing looked deadly with its long black snout.

  “Okay, the GAU-17A machinegun is easy to use, you just point Black Bird’s nose in the direction you want to shoot and pulled the trigger. It’s like cutting grass; you could do it with your eyes closed. But these Brownings, they take a considerable amount of skill. Have you any idea how difficult it is to hit a moving target when you’re two hundred feet in the air and cruising at eighty mph?”

  “No… ”

  “Very!” Ben exclaimed. “And I know, because I’m good with these things.”

  “Wait,” Jacob said. “How the hell can you fly this thing and shoot that?”

  “Fly?” Ben questioned.

  “Wait a minute, you’re not the pilot?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Then who is?”

  Ben sighed again but this time he seemed genuinely distressed. “Now therein lies the problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “The problem, Jacob, is you shot our only pilot.”

  They were unexpectedly joined by a group of three other people. A short woman hobbled over to them, the one Jacob had shot, and both Nick and Hutson quickly followed her.

  “This is all very cosy,” the woman said, limping up to the two men.

  Ben looked suddenly terrified. “Honey, I was just showing Black Bird to our friend here.”

  “Friend?” she cursed, and stuck her injured leg out.

  Jacob raised his hands. “Listen, Ben’s explained the misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding?”

  “You attacked us, remember?” Jacob reminded her.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Attacked?”

  Both Jacob and Ben squirmed under her gaze.

  Hutson grinned.

  “Honey,” Ben began, “I guess we have to take some responsibility for the whole thing. I mean, it would’ve worked had you and Nick kept your heads down.”

  Her eyebrows rose.

  Ben’s defence crumbled.

  “No harm done?” Jacob said, and then he cringed, expecting a mouthful in response.

  The anger eventually melted from her face and a softer expression took its place. “I guess not,” she conceded.

  Ben’s hand rested against Jacob’s shoulder. They’d been spared, for now.

  “The name’s Jacob Cain,” the tracker quickly added, holding out his hand.

  “Tate Williams,” the woman said. “Captain Tate Williams - pilot of this bird.”

  “Jeez… ” Jacob moaned. “More military.”

  From behind, Hutson said, “Wait… That means you two are?”

  Captain Tate Williams turned to the woman and shook her head dismally. “It’s a hell of a world we live in, isn’t it?”

  “I guess,” the lieutenant agreed, unable to believe the small woman before her was the wife of the huge guy at Jacob Cain’s side.

  Finally, Tate accepted the tracker’s hand and, with a wink of her eye, she said, “No harm done, I guess.”

  “Good,” Jacob responded.

  They released hands.

  Ben breathed out a huge sigh of relief.

  “What’s this great oaf been telling you?” Tate asked.

  “That you need more of these,” Jacob replied, showing her his handgun.

  “We do indeed,” she said, with a nod.

  “But why?”

  She paused for a second. “Because where we need to go, we’re going to need plenty of firepower.”

  “What? Even more than this?” Jacob asked, and his hand fell against the cool metal of the Browning.

  “You haven’t explained?” Tate asked Ben.

  “I was just getting to it,” Ben replied.

  “What have you been doing all this time?” she demanded.

  Ben shuffled awkwardly from one boot to the other. “I was just about getting to it.”

  “Getting to what, exactly?” Jacob asked, his patience about worn out.

  “Jacob,” Tate began, “we need that kind of firepower because we’re going to New York City.”

  “What! Why?”

  “Because there’s something there we need. Something we all need,” she told him.

  “Which is?” Jacob asked. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He turned to find himself starring into Ben’s face. The big guy’s face had become deadly serious.

  “The Ray of Hope,” Ben announced.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A number of people were seated within the control room, situated around a large table, which occupied the centre of the room. At the head of the table sat Major Patterson, who looked uncharacteristically rumpled and puffy-eyed. Directly behind him stood two fully armed soldiers, both carrying machine guns. To Patterson�
�s right, Lieutenant Samuel Farr, an ageing grey-haired man, sat with his hands clasped tightly together. He looked deeply troubled. Opposite him was an empty chair, its usual occupant missing. Adjacent to the empty chair, Squirrel fidgeted awkwardly, his required presence a mystery. Alice Hammond sat beside him. At the bottom end of the table, the doctor and Sarah sat together, leaving three chairs between them and the others who were in attendance.

  “Elliot – Daniel,” Patterson greeted, as the two brothers entered the room. “Sit,” he said, gesturing towards the side Lieutenant Farr occupied. Both quickly took their seats. Elliot caught his breath when Alice turned towards him and flashed him an enthusiastic smile. He squeezed Alice’s hand in a show of affection.

  Squirrel squirmed in discomfort.

  Daniel offered Sarah a brief nod. She replied with a similar gesture. The doctor looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. His eyes shifted nervously from one face to the next.

  Patterson stood. “It seems we’re all present.” He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. “We received grave news yesterday with regard to Captain Banantyne. Unfortunately, he fell in battle while out rescuing our two colleagues here.” One hand swept towards Alice and the mechanic.

  Groaning, Squirrel now understood his attendance had been called upon for an ass-chewing.

  Alice bowed her head respectfully.

  Patterson continued, “Unfortunately, Father appears sick, so rather than the expected memorial, I’d like you all to bow your heads for a minute’s silence and offer a prayer for our fallen comrade.”

  One by one, heads fell.

  Daniel took his time. He started to lower his head, but then, noticed the two guards behind Patterson had done the same. Idiots! With great care, he slipped the machinegun off his shoulder and let it rest across his lap.

  The minute continued to tick by with agonising slowness.

  Daniel looked from one face to the next. All looked grief-stricken; well, all but the woman at the end of the table. For, although she had her head bowed and her eyes closed like the rest of the group, her lips appeared to be curled up slightly, as if she was somewhat amused.

  Daniel frowned. Admittedly, she had never met Captain Banantyne, but still, the group’s feeling of loss was tangible, and even she should have felt some of their sadness wash over her. Her eyes opened and she turned her head towards him. She smiled briefly before dropping her head again.

  Daniel’s eyes widened. It had been such a fleeting gesture he could not be sure of the intentions behind the smile, or even if his eyes had deceived him. Had it been a sympathetic look of unity, or something much more malignant?

  “Okay,” Patterson began, raising his head, “let us begin.” He took his seat and then spread his arms out flat over the table. He sat poised this way as he looked at the two newcomers at the foot of the table. “I’d like to start by officially welcoming our two new guests, Sarah and Doctor Miller.” The Major’s hand rose and he swept it in their direction. A few moments of awkward welcoming followed.

  “Now, down to business,” Patterson said. “As you are all aware, Ezekiel and his brethren are soon to be within striking distance.”

  Squirrel coughed nervously. “You mean to strike at us?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Jeez …” the mechanic moaned.

  “But what of Jacob Cain’s plan?” Alice enquired.

  The Major clenched his fist. He needed Jacob now more than he ever had. “Jacob appears to have found a possible weakness in the vampire’s hierarchy.”

  “He bargains the safety of everyone in this complex with a foolish plan. What if he’s captured?” Lieutenant Farr snarled.

  Patterson’s hand fell onto the ageing soldier’s shoulder, silencing the complaint. “My old friend, I don’t believe Jacob would allow himself to be captured... alive.” The finality of the statement hung in the air for a second like the dimming chime of a bell.

  “So what do we do?” Farr asked.

  Major Patterson shifted his attention to Elliot. “We do nothing.”

  An audible gasp sounded.

  “But what about Hannah?” Alice asked. Once, a long time ago, Hannah had taught a younger Alice how to salvage and survive.

  Two hands fell onto Elliot’s shoulders. “We do nothing. But I need one brave individual to find Jacob and tell him our news of Hannah.”

  Elliot looked up and said, “No need to ask. When do you want me to leave?”

  “Are you sure, son?” Patterson asked. “It’s a dangerous undertaking.”

  “Yeah,” Elliot nodded, “I’m sure.”

  “Thank you.”

  Daniel twitched for a second, himself desperate for the thrill of the chase, but he stayed quiet, for he already knew he had become the Major’s unofficial personal bodyguard. And, instead of complaining, he tightened his grip on the weapon in his lap and silently swore to himself that as long as he drew breath nothing would stand between him and the Major’s safety.

  Elliot jumped to his feet, ready to begin this most important of missions.

  From the corner of his eye, Daniel saw the doctor flinch, as if the sudden movement had been a precursor to violence. Daniel’s eyes narrowed. There was something about the guy, and the woman, that he simply did not trust.

  The Major returned to the head of the table, sat and looked from one face to the next. Then, with a wave of his hand, he signalled for Elliot to retake his seat. “Believe me, it came as a great shock to hear of Hannah’s continued imprisonment.” He nodded towards Sarah in a gesture of appreciation. “And I’d like nothing more than to send our entire army of soldiers northwards in an attempt to rescue her. But the simple truth is we can’t afford to launch a full attack on Ezekiel’s turf. We wouldn’t last a day against such numbers. I love my daughter dearly, but even that has to come second to the survival of this colony.”

  “So Elliot’s expected to travel northwards, alone, well over fifty miles, to deliver a message?” Alice asked. Her anxiety had begun to grow, and now she was at risk of criticising the Major’s leadership.

  “Alice, I’ll be fine,” Elliot reassured her.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “No you won’t! How will you be?”

  He reached over the table, taking her hand. “I’ve travelled further alone, and I’ve always come back. Haven’t I?”

  “I guess,” she managed to say.

  “And I’ll come back this time. I promise.”

  “You’d better.”

  “I will, you have my word on it.” Elliot looked to Patterson then and asked, “So, when do I leave?”

  “Immediately.”

  “Okay,” he said, and stood.

  “Your orders are clear,” Farr began. “Notify Jacob Cain of Hannah’s situation and then return here immediately. We need all able bodies for the inevitable attack.”

  Elliot nodded, although at that point he wasn’t sure exactly how he would react once he’d relayed the news. For one thing, Hannah Cain was his aunt. And, if Jacob required his help, then he knew in his heart that he would not be able to just turn his back and walk away.

  “There may not be an attack if Jacob succeeds,” Squirrel piped up, hopefully.

  “What do you mean?” Alice asked.

  “If Jacob does kill Ezekiel then they’ll be leaderless, right?” he explained.

  “If only, Son,” Patterson said. “They are as desperate as we are. They’ll come, whether led by one such as Ezekiel or by another.”

  For the first time Sarah spoke. “Still, it would be an immeasurable blow to his army’s morale if they should wake to find their leader’s head on a spike.” She turned to Daniel and winked.

  “I guess…” Patterson conceded. The woman’s choice of words had made the hairs at the back of his neck stand.

  “I’ll bet Jacob will keep that in mind, when he displays Ezekiel’s head as a trophy,” Elliot told her.

  Her face became a mask of joy. “Yeah, sounds good to me.”<
br />
  Elliot bowed his head slightly, signalling his retreat.

  “Wait!” the doctor called, as Elliot withdrew. He stood and quickly moved towards the leader of the group. Underneath the table, Daniel’s weapon traced his progress. “There’s something else you need to know,” Miller said.

  Sarah visibly tensed; this was unexpected, unplanned, unrehearsed.

  Doctor Miller offered the woman a quick, nervous look before summoning sufficient will to continue. “There’s something else I must tell you.”

  Elliot paused at the entrance.

  The doctor appeared to waver, as if having second thoughts, but then he cleared his throat and began to speak. “This woman you talk about – Hannah, it isn’t quite as simple as it may seem.”

  Patterson’s look of steely determination seemed to evaporate instantly. “What is it?” he asked. Anxiety had clawed its way into his words, making them sound fragile.

  The doctor shuffled nervously. He felt two eyes burning into him. He cleared his throat. “Your plan, Jacob Cain’s plan… there is a major flaw.”

  Elliot returned to the table. “What flaw?”

  “Ezekiel keeps a boy close to him at all times, a young boy, a human shield.”

  “We know about those who keep the undead safe,” Patterson responded, “and I’m sure Jacob will do everything in his power to keep him from harm. But there are children here also who will suffer. We have to think about the greater good here.”

  “You still don’t understand,” the doctor said.

  “Understand what?” the Major quizzed.

  Doctor Miller opened his mouth but words failed to form. He took another quick, fleeting look towards the woman, appeared to almost falter, and then found his voice, “Ezekiel’s boy … he’s no ordinary child. He’s Jacob Cain’s son!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lashed to the side of the helicopter was a crudely formed crate of about six-feet by four-feet. The container had been made from timber collected out of the surrounding forest and what seemed like an endless supply of rope, which Ben had produced from the main cabin of the Huey. The container looked surprisingly sturdy, considering it had only taken the group just over two hours to complete.