American Blood: A Vampire's Story (20 page)

Squalls was standing over a lump, looking at them. “Both dead, Sergeant. Pieces of the one are all over the place, looks like he took a direct hit, or near enough. This guy right here got it from the front. He completely bled out.”

Sergeant Bob walked over to the dead man and took out a small flashlight. “He’s whiter than snow . . . don’t see where the blood went, though.”

Ryan stood beside the two rangers. He looked at the dead man and noticed that except for two small red puddles at the ends of his handless arms, there wasn’t much blood near the body.

Squalls kneeled down and placed his hand on the man’s forehead. “He’s still slightly warm, must have died maybe fifteen minutes ago.” Squalls then pushed on the dead man’s head and turned his head over.

“What is that? An exit wound?”

Squalls turned the man’s head the other way for a moment. “I don’t believe so, Sergeant. There’s no entry that I can find.”

Ryan thought back to the description Siri had given him of Christopher’s neck. What he was seeing matched his mental image of the bite wound seen by her.

I needed the blood.

“Well, he’s dead, nothing can change that.” Sergeant Bob made a quick scan and noticed that there were several unfired RPG’s lying on the ground. “Set up two M86s and let’s get out of here.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” Squalls removed two grenade like devices from his bandolier. As they walked away and stepped over several body parts on the ground, some recognizable, some not, Squalls tossed the devices back into the hollow.

“They’re small anti personnel mines,” Sergeant Bob explained to Ryan as they headed away and down the slope. “As soon as they hit the ground trip wires deploy. Just a little present for when their friends check in on them.”

“Sergeant, look at those.” Squalls pointed to a trail of slender depressions that led away from the post and ran along a patch of snow.

Sergeant Bob kneeled down, examined the depressions, and took out a pair of torn sandals. “More prints. She’s barefoot and bleeding a little, but it doesn’t look too bad.”

“Where did you find those?”

Sergeant Bob looked at Ryan. “They were about twenty feet from where she landed . . . so what is she, an Olympic athlete or superwoman?”

“Call it something in between.”

“She’s got my respect, whatever she is.”

“See her steps are even and with that spacing . . . looks like she was running,” Squalls observed. “Doesn’t seem like she’s hurt too bad.”

“I’m guessing she won’t have a problem with hypothermia either, is that right?”

Ryan shrugged.

“Okay, let’s get moving. I want to make the cave within the hour. Our mission has been moving forward and we need to catch up.”

H
er feet were bleeding, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. Calida didn’t even realize that her sandals had been torn away when she hit the ground. It was only when she glanced down at the severed leg that she noticed she was barefoot. At least the cold wouldn’t bother her.

The blood meal had barely satisfied her. The dying Pashtun’s heart was already weak when she came upon him and had stopped after only five minutes of feeding. Calida tried for several minutes to suck out the still warm blood that oozed up from the deep hole she had made, but it soon became more work than it was worth. The man’s blood had a faint vanilla flavor that reminded her of saffron, which didn’t surprise her. The use of the spice had always been part of this region’s native cooking.

Calida entered the upper reach of the
Sardar’s
valley. She had traveled two miles from where she jumped and continued to run as the terrain allowed. She kept alert for the presence of anyone nearby. She angled toward the eastern wall of the valley and came upon a dried streambed that after another half mile became a gully. She guessed this was the very same gully that was described during the briefing.

Calida slowed down. Someone was just ahead of her. She silently climbed out of the gully and came to a stop. There was a man in heavy outer garments and a black turban standing next to the entrance of a small cave. She also sensed that there were two others inside the cave, sleeping.

Her instincts would have been to kill the guard and steal away, but she backed off from the cave. She carefully skirted along the gully’s western edge and continued toward the valley’s floor. The odor of food being cooked was in the air. Calida bounded up the gully’s steep wall and went into a low crouch behind a loose mound of rubble. The compound sprawled out in front of her and she could see several men with assault rifles talking to each other.

Calida listened to what they were saying.

“There was a bright flash upon the mountain, and shortly after a loud thunder.”

“Yes, I heard it also . . . shall we go see if trouble has befallen our good friends Asim and Nufail?”

“It is very cold tonight, and we are needed to protect our
Sardar
. I fear that Asim and Nufail must find warmth in their little hole.”

The men laughed among each other and Calida took that moment to move behind an old weathered truck parked next to a large machine gun emplacement. She took off the jacket she was wearing and tossed it under the truck. She quickly placed the
burqa
over her head and moved to the back of the vehicle. There was a small mud dwelling past the emplacement with thick smoke rising up from an ill-repaired chimney. There were lights coming from behind wooden slats covering the windows. Calida looked over at the men and picked up a stone. She threw it over their heads and as soon as it hit the ground, she ran past the emplacement and came around the back of the dwelling.

Calida peered around the corner and could see two women in
burqas
carrying large buckets from a well that sat along the main road, which ran down the middle of the settlement. Calida walked over to the well and picked up an empty metal bucket. She attached it to the stringer, lowered it into the well, and after a moment brought it up. She took it off the rope and started walking in the same direction as the other two women.

A man with a slung rifle and long black beard who was standing in front of a large fire pit turned toward her. “Where have you come from my little ghost?” he asked. “Is the well to be drunk dry tonight?”

Calida bowed to the man and continued to walk down the road.

“Do not be late for
isha’a
, little ghost. The
Sardar’s
first wife will not be pleased.”

Calida began to walk faster and caught up to the other two women carrying water. One of them glanced at her but didn’t say anything. It was always safer for women to walk in a silent group when possible, even among their own tribe. As the three women made their way farther into the compound, the dwellings became larger and of better construction.

They came to a single story building of salmon colored bricks with uneven mortar squeezed out between the gaps. Calida followed the two women along an outer wall and to a doorway from which light seeped out.

One of the women turned toward Calida. “I will take your water,” she said.

Calida handed her bucket over and she could see the woman’s eyes peering down at her hand from behind the veil.

“Amina, what are you doing with water tonight?” the same woman asked. “It is not your night.”

“And why are you walking barefoot in the cold?” The other woman with an older sounding voice pulled up Calida’s
burqa
. “If you are seen like this you shall be beaten.”

“I’ve lost my sandals and only wanted to wash the dirt from my feet and hands.”

“What is wrong with your voice, Amina?” the older woman asked.

“Why do you speak so strongly?”

“I only wish not to be beaten again, today.”

“The
Sardar
and eldest sons have been hard on all of us, Amina.” The older woman let go of Calida’s
burqa
. “Their women must not bring shame to them before the
Amir
.”

“Tonight is not the time to bring unwanted attention,” the younger woman added. “Have you not heard today’s news about Orzala?”

“Amina was washing clothes at the well today,” the older woman said. “She might not know.”

“What has happened to Orzala?” Calida asked.

The two women drew closer to Calida. “Remember last week we were told by the visiting Tareens that Orzala’s brother and a man from their
tabar
gave their sisters to each other as brides?” the older woman asked in the traditional Pashtun women’s manner of storytelling.

“I do remember.”

The older woman’s eyes became large behind her silver mesh veil as she dramatically shook her head beneath her
burqa
. “A very terrible fate befell both young brides.”

“A very terrible fate,” the younger woman said.

“You must tell me what has happened,” Calida said, knowing her part.

“Orzala’s brother feared his bride had
known
a man before their marriage so he killed her on their wedding night.”

The younger woman who already knew the story gasped. “And what of poor Orzala?”

“The other man discovered his sister’s fate and took Orzala to his sister’s grave,” the older woman said. “The man made Orzala walk around the grave and then cut off her hands and feet—he murdered her upon the fresh dirt.” The older woman shrugged beneath her
burqa
. “The Tareen had to protect the
namus
of his sister for the shame Orzala’s brother brought upon the Tareen’s sister was very great.”

“It was a great shame and Orzala was unlucky.”

“Yes, luck was not with Orzala that night,” the older woman said.

“But was the Tareen’s sister guilty of this shame?” Calida asked.

“My innocent, Amina,” the older woman began, “why does it matter? A husband may take his wife if his honor or that of his sister has been shamed. A
jirga
has already decided the killing of Orzala was within the Tareen’s right as husband.”

“And the ill timing of this has the
Sardar
troubled about tonight’s
jirga
with the
Amir
,” the younger woman said.

“We must all be even more dutiful tonight,” the older woman said. “So why have you chosen such foolishness, Amina? Are you not one of the daughters to be placed before the
Amir
?”

“Have I not told you being so pretty would bring you poor fortune?” the younger woman asked.

Calida reached into their minds, but the women’s thoughts were murky with fear and distrust.

“Will you not help me?” Calida asked, her voice subdued, pleading.

“Come with me,” the younger sounding woman said. “We shall find you sandals.”

“You are lucky that Iffat is always kind to the younger girls,” the older woman said. “Take her now before anyone else sees her.”

Iffat put one of the buckets down and grabbed Calida’s hand. “Hurry, we shall go to the women’s and children’s quarters . . . I have some old sandals hidden there.”

Calida allowed herself to be led around the building to another door that she was quickly taken through. They entered a room with many small children lying on blankets. They crossed the room, went through another doorway, then down a short hallway that opened up into another room. Rugs of all different sizes covered the floor and no furniture.

“Sit down and wash with the water,” Iffat said. “If you would go before the
Amir
unclean you would receive worse than a beating.” Iffat then went to a small rug and lifted it up. There was a small hole in the dirt floor that she reached into and removed a pair of sandals. “These will be fine . . . I shall clean them for you.”

“Thank you for helping me, Iffat.”

“Do not thank me. If you are chosen we shall never see each other again.” Iffat wiped the pair of sandals with an old rag. “We must hurry, you are to be before the
Sardar
as soon as he finishes
isha’a
and we are already late for our own.”

“By way of deception, thou shalt do war.”

—
Israel’s Mossad

“T
onight is definitely for shit,” Sergeant Bob said as he looked through his night goggles.

Ryan was bent over with his hands on his knees. “Do all of your missions go like this?”

“This is the best mission I’ve ever been on . . . ain’t that right Corporal?”

“Been on worse, Sergeant.”

“All right, our cave is just up ahead to the right where that fissure comes down the rock face.”

Ryan slowly straightened up but still needed a moment for a sudden dizziness to pass. “What am I doing here?” he asked no one.

Sergeant Bob grinned. “Single file, Squalls has point.”

The three men moved away from the cave toward the middle of the narrow valley. Ryan labored to keep up. Since jumping out of the Black Hawk, he had only walked about two miles, but it was all going up and over rocks while at the same time moving down a steep unforgiving mountainside. He noticed that as they progressed deeper into the valley the boulders and rock formations gave way to large areas of cultivation. They even chanced upon a fruit tree orchard that meandered from the valley’s middle and up the western slope. The early spring buds could easily be seen on the branches. There were also large, carefully planned rectangles of freshly tilled earth through which irrigation trenches had been placed. The land here was in sharp contrast to the arid desert on the Afghanistan side of the pass ten kilometers to the north.

Sergeant Bob raised his hand and came to a stop. He studied a spot on the valley wall for several minutes. “The cave is right there.”

“I don’t see anything,” Ryan said, panting hard. Where Sergeant Bob had pointed appeared to be a cliff wall that rose up a thousand feet and defined the valley’s western side.

“That’s because it’s not a big round hole. From outside it’s just a crack in the rock face. Let’s get inside and get warm. Corporal?”

Squalls led them up the valley’s eastern slope for several hundred meters to a small crevice that was just one of hundreds. Ryan watched the corporal turn on his flashlight and squeeze through the dark crack.

“Get moving,” Sergeant Bob said to him. “There’s nothing inside that will bite, except maybe a cobra or camel spider.”

Ryan muttered something and followed Squalls into the opening. After a few feet, the tight passage way opened up into an oblong area with a low five-foot ceiling. Both Squalls and Sergeant Bob inspected the small cave’s interior with their flashlights.

“Everything looks good,” Squalls said.

“Disarm the package, Corporal.”

Squalls motioned for Ryan to stand still and he bent down and appeared to be doing something to the rocky floor. A second later, an audible click reverberated inside the cave.

“All clear,” Squalls said.

Suddenly the entire cave lit up with a soft white glow from a small battery powered lantern that Sergeant Bob was holding. “We got five gallons of kerosene so let’s get the heat going.”

Ryan collapsed on the floor. His legs were cramping from the lactic acid build up in the muscle. As he suffered through his pain, he noticed there were several small plastic crates sitting behind a large rock protrusion that dominated the right side of the cave. Sergeant Bob picked up one of the crates and opened it. He reached inside and tossed a plastic packet to Ryan followed by a bottle of Gatorade.

“It’s an MRE, a meal ready to eat . . . a military ration for heaven’s sake. So eat. The drink will help with the cramps.”

“I thought these were wrapped in foil?” Ryan asked, always the scientist.

“They just started sending these packaged in zein. It’s a corn based—”

“I know what zein is, Sergeant.” Ryan grunted then coughed twice. “It’s a biodegradable polymer made from corn gluten. Kind of ironic that the military uses depleted uranium shells by the thousands while at the same time it’s worried about environmentally friendly packaging.”

Squalls lit a match and touched the flame through the metal grate of a small portable kerosene heater. The fuel caught and the cylindrical element whooshed as a blue flame encircled it and gave off welcomed warmth.

“I’m not complaining about the heat,” Ryan said. “But isn’t the carbon monoxide from that thing going to kill us in about twenty minutes?”

“Cave’s ventilated.” Sergeant Bob pointed at the ceiling.  “That crack there leads to another opening about fifty feet above us.”

“If I suffocate in here what do I care?” Ryan asked. “I’m practically dead anyway.” He struggled for a few seconds to twist open his Gatorade.

“It’s 2145 . . . I want your tracker online.” Sergeant Bob finished off his Gatorade and grabbed another. “I want an update on her position in five minutes, but for the next four minutes I want you to tell me everything about super woman.”

“What do you want to know?”

“To start with, what is she?”

“She’s a woman.”

Sergeant Bob spit on the cave’s floor. “A woman doesn’t jump seventy feet from a helicopter onto rocks and run bare foot six thousand feet down a mountain.”

Ryan gave a tired shrug. “She has special abilities.”

“I’ll say . . . so why did she go pay a visit to that dead Pashtun?” Sergeant Bob took off his gloves and tossed them on the floor in front of his feet. “The one without any hands and a big chunk bitten out of his neck.”

“Bitten?”

“Mister,” Squalls began, “her footprints led in and out of that spot.”

“Does it really matter what she is?”

“Yeah, it fucking matters.”

Ryan took a long pull from his Gatorade and put the plastic bottle down. He rolled onto his back still panting. “She’s not human, not like us, anyway.”

“Figured that much, but keep going.”

“What were you told about her?”

“Just that she’s some kind of hopped up assassin.”

“That doesn’t do her justice.” Ryan grimaced as he struggled to sit up. “She’s really more of a highly evolved assassin.”

“You’re not making any sense, Mister.”

“Okay, Corporal Squalls, here’s a little quiz for you . . . sunlight will kill her and her diet consists mainly of a certain red liquid coursing through your veins. So what is she?”

“No fucking way.”

“Yep, she’s a one hundred percent, real life, blood-sucking vampire. And the US government has hired her to cleanup some unfinished business over here.”

“So what else is on her diet?” Sergeant Bob asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

“And it’s safe to be around her?”

“Not always. Did she harm you?”

“Not at all,” Sergeant Bob said. “In fact she’s been real nice.”

“Don’t be fooled. Her behavior is all about one thing. Did she touch you?”

“If you and her have something going—”

“Did she touch you?”

The sergeant nodded and let out a nervous cough. “Uh, yeah, she did.”

He touched me first.

Ryan chuckled to himself for a moment. “Well then, Sergeant Bob, you’ve probably been infected by specialized molecules secreted from her skin that target areas of your brain.”

“Do I really want to hear this?”

“Sure, I’m infected too. It’s her way of keeping tabs on us walking bags of blood for when she gets hungry. Relax, she’s not going to try and eat you or anything, well at least not while she’s over here, but you never know.”

You enjoy yourself too much.

Ryan caught himself shrugging.

“This is serious shit . . . I knew that makeup job was too good,” Squalls said. “And the way she acted during the briefing was because it was daylight outside the bunker, right?”

“All true,” Ryan said. “Now the only thing you two have to ask yourselves is whether you can still help her knowing what she is.”

Sergeant Bob got up on his knees. “What do you think, Corporal? Does it matter to you that she’s not a regular all American gal?”

“She still seems like a real nice lady.”

“If she can take out the
Amir
after we’ve tried and come up empty for seven years . . . I don’t care what she is.”

Ryan made a loud cracking laugh. “She’s not here to kill the
Amir
.”

Sergeant Bob looked directly at Ryan. “Then why is she here? And why are
we
here?”

“I don’t know what bullshit you were told, but what she’s really here for is America’s number one enemy.” Ryan looked at each man’s face in turn. “That is the mission, to kill the man who started this whole mess back home and over here.”

Sergeant Bob stared at Ryan and opened both eyes wide. “That’s just . . . God damn! It’s insane.”

“Well, that’s why the three of us are sitting in this cave right now,” Ryan said.

Sergeant Bob glanced at his watch. “Okay, Ryan, your four minutes are up. Get your tracker going and let’s get a position on her.” Sergeant Bob finished off his second Gatorade. “My respects to the
Amir
, but this mission just became a lot more interesting.”

A
fter washing away the dirt from the mountainside, Calida followed Iffat through a maze of hallways to another room where dozens of women were beginning their evening prayers. Four large, hand woven rugs with intricate red and yellow symbols of their tribe, the
tabar
, covered the floor. Candles of all sizes in varying states of consumption provided the room’s light. Iffat immediately found a place near the front of the gathering, removed her sandals, and knelt down. Calida continued to the back of the room and found a space where she also joined in with the ongoing prayers.

Calida sensed great fear from many of the women and yet there was also relief from others. As she reached outward, her immediate concern was finding Amina before any confusion resulted. As the prayers neared their end, she couldn’t narrow down where Amina was in the room. There were just too many minds to search and not enough time.

The final verse was repeated by the worshippers and after a respectful silence a woman at the front of the prayer gathering in an immaculate, dark blue
burqa
with white and silver embroidery, rose to her feet. Calida caught a glimpse of her hand and noticed that her fingernails were painted dark red, which was a sign of her most favored position as a woman within the tribe.

“Faithful women of our beloved
tabar
,” the woman began in a calm, strong voice. “I have spoken to you about our most beloved
Sardar’s
gift to the
Amir
.” She used her hands in exaggerated movements showing off her painted nails. “I was given the honor of choice for those to be presented, which is my right as first wife to the
Sardar
.” She then bowed to the other women. “It is time for the chosen to come before me.”

“But why have you not chosen any of your own daughters?” a woman on the front row asked.

“Yes, Zamda, you chose only the prettiest from outside of your
khel
.”

“And so it is my misfortune not to bear daughters as beautiful as others,” Zamda said. “Yet your
khel
is also part of this
tabar
.

“And yet your misfortune allows you to keep your only daughter,” a third woman shouted out.

Zamda raised both her hands in the air. “Perhaps you would like to go before the
Sardar
and speak of this grievance.”

“We love our daughters also, Zamda,” the first woman said. “We do not wish them to be taken away.”

“It is a great honor to be chosen . . . to be placed in the service of the
Amir
.” Zamda stepped closer to the three women in the first row that had spoken. “Why have you forgotten that the Talibi have banned the beating of women? These are silly concerns and I shall listen to them no more.” She stood there for several moments, but the three women didn’t speak and she turned away. “I shall now call for the six . . . Kashmala, Pamir, Roshina, Amina, Ghazala, and Nafisa.”

Several women began to cry as the chosen with their heads bowed walked from their places to the front of the room.”

“But Nafisa is too young,” one of three woman pleaded.

“Pamir and Roshina are my only daughters,” another cried out and then fainted.

Calida silently watched as the six women stopped before the
Sardar’s
first wife who went to each one and revealed their faces.

“Yes, such pretty daughters, the
Amir
shall have a hard time making his choices, but only
Allah
knows which three it shall be.” Zamda turned toward the others. “After the
jirga
the three who remain shall return without dishonor or shame.”

Calida looked upon the face of Amina. Tears were in her eyes, but she stood braver than the rest.

“Now all may come and wish them well.”

The gathering of women pressed forward and many were crying. Several more fainted and were helped up by others then led from the room. Calida moved into the center of the women and eventually found herself close to Amina who was being fussed over by her mother. Calida recognized Iffat drawing near.

“Amina, I pray you come back to us,” Iffat said.

Calida moved in behind Iffat.

“I have accepted my fear,” Amina said. “Yet I only want my life to be here with my family.”

“May the gift of the sandals bear you well,” Iffat said.

“What sandals? I do not—”

“Amina is very wise.” Calida said.

Zamda turned and looked at Calida and Iffat. “Amina accepts the will of
Allah
. It is time to see the
Sardar
. You two shall walk with us to his audience.”

Calida bowed and waited for the mothers of the six daughters to finish hugging and praying for their safe return. Zamda allowed this for a few minutes, but then she motioned for the women to stand back and let them pass. Calida fell into the rear with Iffat and they followed the six daughters outside where they quickly walked down the main road toward the largest building within the compound.

M
any armed men were outside the
Sardar’s
house and as they walked, even Zamda stayed close, respectfully bowing to any man who looked their way. They came to a large entrance in the brick fortified building and were allowed to pass inside by two men with heavy caliber rifles.