"Captain Cadaver"
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dochermes"Captain Cadaver"
A Trom Girl Mystery
12/1-12/3/2004
I.
"We haven't been allowed to do an autopsy on Woertham yet," the local Medical Examiner grumbled as he unlocked the morgue door and flicked on the overhead fluorescent lights. He looked like he would be grouchy as a matter of course, with a sour face that had deep vertical lines around the mouth. George Allcott was sixty-one, losing his hair fast and not an imposing figure in any case. He stood no more than five feet eight, and the white lab coat over the old-fashioned tweed suit did not give him an air of authority.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs outside the morgue entrance, Megan Salenger was as serious and restrained in manner as usual. Only a few inches over five feet tall, wrapped in a red flannel shirt too large for her and faded jeans with the cuffs rollede up, she looked considerably younger than twenty-three. The Trom Girl had thick tousled black hair, cut short over an inquisitive foxlike face. As she entered the morgue, she glanced around and retained every detail with a near-photographic memory.
Behind her, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Archie McAllister followed her through the door with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. He always looked like he needed a nap, a haircut and a shave, and today was no different. Archie had on his down-filled parka but it was unusually warm outside for the first of December and he had left it unzipped. When he glanced around the morgue, it was with only mild curiosity.
"The FBI requested you to delay the autopsy until we arrived," she said in a tone that indicated it was not a question.
Allcott scowled more than usual at the comment. "Yes. The sheriff's department is not happy about having the case taken over the Federal authorities, I can assure you. Here he is. The late Lewis James Woerther." There were two autopsy tables in the room, and he led them to the one which had a sheet-covered body lying on it. Something was holding the sheet up over the corpse's torso to produce a tentlike effect.
"It's freezing in here," Archie observed.
"It's a morgue," replied Allcott in a tone just as cold. He yanked on blue latex gloves from a box sitting on a counter filled with tools and instruments. Without asking, Megan took a pair for herself and nodded at Archie to do the same. As they tugged on the gloves, the Medical Examiner for Winchell County pulled down the cover sheet to reveal the naked body of a man with a wooden stake in his chest two inches thick. The corpse showed blue and green discoloration, puffiness in the face and some sloughing of the flesh in general.
"I already pierced the abdomen to release the gas which had been generated," Allcott said. "I thought it better to do that before civilians arrived."
"Thank you for sparing us that," Megan said, stepping closer and scrutinizing the corpse intently. "This is the body that was found buried in the woods three miles from the reservoir, then? I would judge he has been dead four to five days, taking into account the cold state of the ground."
"Oh, very good," Allcott replied. He gave Megan a curious glance. "You're accurate. A couple hiking in the woods saw their dog become agitated and start sniffing the ground and barking. They noticed freshly turned earth in a shape consistent with burying a human body, so they notified the police. In short order, Mr Woerther was exhumed and brought here."
"Cause of death might seem obvious, but it's always good procedure to check for earlier trauma." She was so close to the corpse that she seemed about to sniff it but she was looking for bruises or scrapes. "What do you make of these two puncture wounds on the right anterior of the throat?"
"Snake bite, almost certainly. There is no discoloration or swelling around the wounds, which would seem to indicate death from other causes followed before the venom could act."
The Trom Girl pointed at the bloated arms and legs. "The punctures are too widely spaced for any known snake species. I see no abrasions from ligatures. He wasn't tied down when the stake was driven into his body."
That made Allcott blink in surprise. "Are you a trained investigator, Miss Salenger? The FBI described you only as a consultant."
"I hold a PI license for the State of New York," she answered absently. "I don't believe he was held down by bare hands, either. It appears that this person was already dead when the stake was inserted." Megan actually reached down and flexed the fingers of the corpse to test their state of rigidity. Normally, Allcott would have yelled at her not to do that, but he was impressed with her clinical attitude.
Glancing up, the Trom Girl frowned. "I assume tissue and blood samples have been taken?"
"Yes, of course. The lab is backlogged as usual and they promise results tomorrow. I do have to say I had extraordinary difficulty drawing any blood. There seemed to be almost none left in the body. How that happened is a puzzle--"
"Oh, come on already!" blurted Archie, speaking for the first time. "I mean, seriously. A body with two bite marks on the throat and no blood remaining, buried with a freaking stake through his heart. Haven't you watched any horror movies in your life?"
Alcott gave Archie an offended stare which was wasted on the big mechanic. "Young man, this is a medical facility. We do not consider folklore or Hollywood fantasies when making our examinations. I assure you a more prosaic explanation will be found than what you suggest."
"With all due respect, doctor," Megan said. "I have faced and destroyed genuine vampires. Not delusional living persons but the actual Undead. That is the reason Department 21 Black of the FBI wanted us present when you remove that stake."
Her voice was so calm and self-assured that Allcott did not know how to react to it. "Have everyone lost their good judgement? Young lady, I can promise you that when that foreign object is removed, as it should have been when the body was first brought here, that the cadavar will not spring to life and attempt to bite any of us in the neck."
"Let's hope not," Megan said with complete seriousness. "Are you ready? Archie, perhaps you will pull the stake while Dr Allcott and I hold the body steady."
"Sure, sure." Under his breath, the big man muttered, "Looking forward to it."
As the Trom Girl and the doctor pressed down on the corpse, Archie grasped the stake with both hands and yanked up sharply. It came out smoothly, more easily than he expected, and he stood there holding it awkwardly.
"You notice the stake is clean," Megan said to both of them. "There is no fluid or tissue adhering to it."
"That's odd," Allcott mumbled as he reached over to take the stake and examine it.
He swung around at a sudden sucking noise right behind him. The body had collapsed into a semi-liquid mass of putrescence, dripping off the edges of the autopsy table down to the white tile floor. The stench filled the morgue in a wave.
Gagging, hands clapped over his mouth, Archie ran from the room. Before she joined him, Megan calmly gave the stinking mass another appraisal. "Undead do that sometimes. At least he did not return to life and attack us," she said completely straight-faced.
II.
Outside in the parking lot, Archie was walking around and taking in huge lungfuls of the crisp winter air. As Megan approached, he grinned sheepishly and said, "I'm okay now, hon. That took me by surprise."
"It was very unpleasant," she replied in her understated way. Opening the back of her cherry red Jeep Cherokee, the Trom Girl took off her flannel shirt and rolled it up inside one of the clean garbage bags they kept in there, then dug for her denim jacket and yanked it on. "I am afraid some of that odor might cling to my shirt, so I did not stay there any longer."
In a wide weathered face with two day's stubble, Archie's gentle blue eyes gave away his true nature. "I feel bad for that coroner guy, having to clean up that mess. Hoo-wee... What a job."
"Department 21 Black will take over," Megan said, giving him an affectionate side hug. "And they will swear him to silence under the imperative of National Security and
avoiding public panic. He will not be able to tell even his family."
As they stood there in the clear chilly sunlight, they saw a black SUV with tinted windows approach from the other end of the parking lot. Three men in black suits with shirts and narrow ties emerged, as well as a woman in the same outfit excewpt for a modest pleated skirt. Megan and Archie had met them earlier in the day when they had taken this assignment.
"Hello, Agent Corbett, Agent Meredith," said the Trom Girl as two of them approached. Another man and the woman headed toward the hospital side entrance, carrying satchels.
"Those two have stronger stomaches than I do," said Agent Meredith. He was a short stocky man with a bulldog face. "They were med students and almost graduated before 21 Black recruited them."
Megan informed the two special agents what had happened in the morgue. "My conclusion is that the subject was killed by a vampire but immediately staked and buried before he could rise himself. Usually that takes one to three nights. Therefore, there is a vampire active in this area but he could not desire competition."
"Yeah, well, that sounds smart of him. Once the curse spreads, and you start having multiple bloodless bodies found, even the public catches on." Agent Meredith stared at Megan uncertainly. "I've never worked with the Kenneth Dred Foundation before. You guys have an impressive record but I have to say, no offense, you seem awful young for this kind of work."
"I was raised from childhood for this career," Megan replied casually. She did not mention that she had been a Human infant taken by boards of Trom scientists to be brought up as a liaison between the two Races. "Like the little girls whose parents start them on gymnastics at the age of five."
"Wow. Well, anyway," he went on, "my team is going to be investigating under our own procedures and policies. But the big shots at the Bureau requested that the KDF be brought in. They specifically asked for someone named Bane, Jeremy Bane."
"He is not available at present," the Trom Girl said without resentment. "My partner and I will look into this with the thought it might be connected to the vigilante killings near Buffalo."
Agent Meredith frowned, reconsidered and nodded solemnly. "That's occurred to us, as well. Good luck. We're so far north you could run across into Canada without getting out of breath, the big cities are sparse here." He hitched up his belt and turned to his partner. "Okay, Bill, I guess we need to see how those two are doing in there."
"I'm not eager about this part," grumbled the agent.
Heading toward the hospital, Mereditch called back, "Keep us updated, will you?"
"Absolutely," the Trom Girl said as she swung open the Jeep door and climbed up into the driver seat. Archie got in on the passenger side and they eased out in traffic. "Whew," he said, "Off to a rough start. So we're heading back down to Buffalo? You're putting some mileage on this baby."
Megan grinned unexpectedly, her whole face brightening with the expresion. "Fortunately, my boyfriend is a mechanic!"
"Yeah, right," he reached over to tousle her hair. "So, we've got another long ride ahead of us. We've been in this Jeep since eight this morning. What's the deal on this vigilante in Buffalo?"
The Trom Girl launched into an extremely long detailed summary of the case, making Archie wonder why he had opened that particular door. But he did want to know. The gist of it was that some individual had been attacking drug rings around the north country for the past four months. These were groups importing opiates and heroin in large amounts and then breaking the shipments up to sell further downstate. The vigilante evidently had military-grade body armor and devastating fighting skill, which led many in the law enforcement community to figure he was an ex-Navy SEAL or Green Beret, something like that.
Lots of bullets were fired every time the vigilante crashed in a deal house, but he himself apparently had never been wounded. He left a room full of broken bodies, destroyed the drugs down the plumbing or into the sewers directly by lifting manhole covers. Three times, a drug dealer had survived the attack and their descriptions were all the same.
The vigilante was not a big man, maybe five feet ten, and wiry. He dressed in simple black clothing, boots and sweatpants and sweatshirt, all available in hundreds of stores, nothing distinctive and impossible to trace. The man covered his entire head with black nylon pulled tight and had not been known to speak.
A few puzzling details were known. Despite his not wearing gloves, the vigilante left no fingerprints even on objects he had clearly been wielding as weapons. The dealers often had lookouts outside or at windows watching for cars but had seen nothing before the attacks.. not even a man walking up the sidewalk. It was a mystery how he arrived so unexpectedly and how he got away so quickly, often as the police were literally coming in the door.
Most ominously, six gang members had disappeared completely over the course of the vigilante attacks. They were known to have been on the scene at the time, but they were simply never heard from again.
Archie interrupted, "Wait, wait, I think I can guess where you're going with this! That body in the morgue today with the toothpick in his chest, Woerther whatever-his-name-was..."
"He was the most recent missing gang member," Megan finished for him. "Yes."
III.
They pulled into the small city of Nyoga, with Lake Erie clearly visible a few miles away. This had been a manufacturing town but when the mills closed down twenty years earlier, the population had dropped away. Local businesses struggled. Most of Nyoga could be considered the bad part of town, and it was here that a lot of the painkiller trade was centered. The most prosperous district was centered around a railroad depot where various shops and fast-food franchises were successful. Here also was the MIROSLAV HOTEL, a three story stone building kept in relatively good repair.
Pulling into the gravel lot behind the hotel, Megan hopped out. They had checked in that afternoon before going out to where the corpse had been found. The Trom Girl stretched and yawned.
Watching her, Archie said, "I know you're too duty-bound to mention it, honey, but we're both exhausted. We were out late last night. Between us, we've been behind the wheel since early this morning and it's past five now. I vote for hot showers, some sleep and then a big dinner before we go out to fight the Midnight War again."
She visibly drooped as she gave up on seeming to be alert and eager. "I'm too tired to even consider anything else, my love. Come on. We will function better when we're rested and fed."
They trudged through the ancient lobby with its ceiling fan and potted plants and prints on the wall of forgotten Kentucky Derby winners. At the desk sat old Miroslav himelf, bent over a newspaper so closely his eyesight was obviously nearing its end. They waved politely and went up the stairs to their rooms on the second floor.
The rooms were clean and airy, with two big windows overlooking the steet, and the usual furniture was provided. Their suitcases and knapsacks were where they had left him, as Megan could tell within a fraction of an inch. She took an oversized yellow T-shirt from her knapsack and headed for the bathroom.
"Want some help scrubbing your back, hon?" asked Archie as he started unlacing his heavy work shoes.
"No, sorry. That always leads to fun and honestly I don't have the energy right now. I really AM sorry, my love," came her voice through the door.
"That's all right," the big mechanic said agreeably. "There's always tomorrow."
He stripped down and grabbed a thin cotton robe from his own luggage. Archie was a big hairy bear of a man, muscular from years of garage work but not in prime athletic condition by any means. He was thick around the waist from a few too many beers.
As Megan came out in the 3XXX T-shirt that reached past her knees, her hair still damp as she toweled it, she smiled at Archie standing there naked. "Oh, I see something I like," she almost sang, "and he's looking at me the same way. I'll be asleep when you get done in there, though."
Archie kissed her lightly as she passed. "We both got lucky, hon. I had figured love was meant for everyone but me." He went into the bathroom and luxuriated in the steaming hot water and lots of soap. Archie took his time, making sure he got every bit of the foul stink from the morgue out of his hair and from under his fingernails. Then he toweled roughly dry, shrugged into his bathrobe which was at least a decade old and worn at the elbows, and stepped out.
The radiator in the corner was on. The room was warm, snug, dark and completely comforting. On one side of the double bed, Megan Salenger lay curled up on her side under the blankets. Archie took great pains not to wake her as he climbed onto the other side, got himself comfortable and was asleep before he knew it.
IV.
Just after eleven, they both awoke into darkness. The only light in the room came from the numerals on the bedside clock radio. Megan stirred, felt Archie sitting up next to her and said, "Good evening. Feeling good?"
"Great but I'm starving. It's a quarter after eleven? I wonder what's open in town?" He got out of bed and stood up by the nightstand. "Watch your eyes, I'm turning on the lamp." In the mellow amber light, he loomed up gigantic over her, stretching his arms up and behind him.
Megan had picked up her Link from the nightstand on her side. "It seems I received a call two minutes ago. Maybe that buzz was what awakened us. It's from the headquarters building." She patched in the regular phone system and returned the call. "Hello?"
"Let me guess who that was?" Archie grumbled as he started to dig for a fresh shirt and underwear.
"Unicorn? Hi. Did you just call? I know I sound drowsy. No, it is none of your business what I was really doing. Is there any purpose to your call other than your curiosity about my love life? Well, then, go ahead. I see. 21 Black told you this? I see. That is indeed interesting. Thank you. What? Yes, Ashley, I promise. If we need you to come to our rescue at the last second, I will certainly call you. No, I will not tell Archie you think he's all kinds of cute. When I get back, I will instead recommend that Sable give you many more duties, you obviously have too much free time. Hello?"
Megan lowered the Link back to the nightstand. "She hung up. I will never understand that girl."
Archie laughed at the baffled expression on her face, tucking a blue chambray shirt into his jeans. "She hero worships you, hon. If you took her on one or two of these 'Trom Girl mysteries,' you'd make her incredibly happy."
"Maybe at some point," Megan said as she went to her suitcase and started picking out clothes. "Honestly, Archie, I feel so comfortable working with you I don't want another partner even occasionally."
"What did Unicorn have to say? Other than teasing you?"
Getting out her field suit, Megan slipped into the snug silk-thin Trom armor that left only her head, feet and hands exposed. It dispersed impact over its entire surface, which protected her against anything up to an including a high-powered rifle bullet while leaving only a faint bruise. "Oh, she was pestering the 21 Black agents back in Manhattan. You know how she can pile on that charm. It's been kept from the public, but the vigilante up here has sent a series of notes to the police. The notes include details only someone present at the killings would know. He brags about what a public service he's doing, how he is cleaning the streets of vermin with no right to live. And he signs himself, 'Captain Courage.'"
"What the hell? Captain Courage? Sounds like he has some sort of super-hero delusion," Archie scoffed.
"Unicorn says many of the police are beginning to admire him. So far, he has not killed any innocent bystanders, only drug dealers and pimps. The way he is not harmed by bullets and kills armed gangsters apparently barehanded, only to vanish into the night, has given him a kind of mystique. He has fans."
Watching her tug on the heavy boots, tight pants and long-sleeved jersey, all black, Archie seemed troubled. "Honey, how do you feel about this? Are you maybe a little sympathetic to his crusade?"
Trom Girl stood up, tucking in her shirt and gave him a completely serious gaze. "I agree that accused persons have the right to a fair trial, no matter what the crime. That is your system of justice and the Trom approve with its principles. Admittedly, the KDF and I have sometimes broken those principles. It's a moral problem that I am troubled by, but I feel we have an obligation to act because of the superhuman adversaries we face."
"Yeah? You're right, the monsters and maniacs you tackle could never be brought to court. Judges and prosecutors would either disbelieve the charges or treat them like regular criminals," Archie admitted.
"They would promptly escape. Samhain has gotten out of maximum security prisons five times. Imagine handing Wu Lung or Quilt over to the police. There would be a trail of murdered officers and the monster would be back out in the night within the hour." Megan picked up the waist-length field suit jacket, which had its own inner lining of the Trom armor. Concealed deftly on her person were now a dozen tiny gadgets and weapons in their concealed pouches and slits.
Archie always felt a little jolt of excitement when she got into that suit because it meant she was ready for trouble and anything could happen. His pulse sped up a bit. "So, any special gear for tonight?"
"Oh, yes." She hauled a canvas bag four feet long from under the bed and handed it to him. It had two straps to be carried over a shoulder. "Six stakes of ash, pointed at one end. I procured them from the KDF arsenal. The metal ring toward the flat end weighs them for throwing. We have a great deal of specialized equipment there. Here is a silver flask of holy water blessed with the full approval of Cardinal Valenti. Jeremy saved his sister once from a kidnapping. And here, I want you to carry this."
She handed Archie an ornate ivory crucifix seven inches long. The figure of Jesus was beautifully detailed. Archie studied the cross dubiously. "Megan, listen. I was brought up in a good Irish Catholic family outside Boston. I don't know if I'm comfortable using this as... well, a weapon."
The Trom Girl addressed his concerns respectfully. "The Cardinal has given us a dispensation. We are only to use these gifts to save innocent lives and to drive back unholy creatures of the night. I couldn't find the communal wafers he gave us, but I know we have some somewhere in the arsenal."
"Welll... if it's authorized by Cardinal Valenti, I guess I can go along with it." He slung the satchel over one shoulder and gently pocketed the crucifix.
"I must warn you that holy symbols do not always work," Megan said. "Unfortunately, there are varieties of vampires and some do not obey the traditional rules. These are just reasonable precautions."
"Great."
"We should get moving. This Captain Courage, if we accept his name for himself, usually strikes in the middle of the night. Say, three AM. We will want to find an all-night diner first for a late dinner."
Archie smiled sheepishly. "Until you said that, I had forgotten I was hungry."
IV.
Locating a slightly seedy diner on the outskirts of Nyoga, they settled down to order. Both decided on breakfast food, midnight being a bit late for a heavy meal, and soon were digging into plates of French toast, scrambled eggs and bacon with side orders of home fries. Archie had his black coffee, while Megan drank two glasses of plain water.
By established custom, they did not discuss the case while at the table. This improved the eating experience and gave them a break. Instead, they chatted about Archie's year of, as he put it, "bumming around Europe" after getting out of the Army. He was finishing a droll story about having to explain how he ended up leading an upset goat on a leash through a German town while looking for its owner who had in fact boarded a plane for Italy.
"I don't know if the police believed me so much as they didn't want to deal with the whole situation," he concluded, "But they loaded the goat in the back of the car and took her away. The last I saw was her little face staring sadly at me as they drove away."
Megan giggled, something rare for her. "I dare say she still misses you, Archie."
"The funny thing is, I did write to her but never heard back."
"Now I know you are joking," Trom Girl said as the check arrived. She glanced at it to see that the math was correct. "This is going on my KDF expense account, as is the hotel. Archie, are you getting tired of going on these cases with me?"
"Naw, not at all. You know the oddest thing is, at first I thought they were all gonna be regular murder mysteries and robberies and stuff. I didn't really believe the Midnight War was anything more than ghost reports and sightings of Bigfoot."
Megan picked up her platinum Visa card provided for her by the KDF and started to get up. "You certainly have seen a great deal of the genuine paranormal since then"
"Yep. And I love it. It's a whole secret world out there that most people never even suspect is going on." He put on his parka and shrugged. "Really fascinating and more than a litle scary."
As they left the diner, the night had gotten distinctly chillier. Archie pulled up the zipper on his parka but Megan's field suit was designed to keep her comfortable under much worse conditions. They walked over to her Jeep and she hopped up behind the wheel.
"I have memorized the map of local streets," she explained. "On the way back, it would be a relief if you drove."
"Sure." Archie buckled himself in. "You know what I was thinking? It'd be odd if this Captain Courage turns out not to be a vampire after all. He's just a Marine with body armor and more guts than good sense."
"Then we could simply detain him for the police. But what of the gang member who was exhumed and who decomposed instantly? He was clearly Undead."
"Aw, just a passing thought," Archie said. "I'm sure this Captain Courage would be better called Captain Cadaver."
Megan made the faintest chuckle. "Captain Cadaver..." She started up the Jeep and headed toward the section of town where the crime rate was highest. 21 Black had given her the addresses of three known deal houses and two suspected ones. Driving in circles around that neighborhood was a sobering experience. Boarded up stores, yards full of junk, teenagers standing in doorways at two in the morning. When they saw a grown man on a child's bicycle, Archie pointed it out as a sure sign of drug traffic.
"He can cut across yards and through alleys where police cars can't follow," he mentioned.
"Oh. I wondered about that." Megan started parking on dark side streets where there were no street lamps and watching the designated deal houses. One seemed more active than the others. Young black men entered in pairs, were inside for ten or fifteen minutes and then split up in opposite directions when they emerged. In a second story window, the outline of a head and shoulders stayed unmoving, watching the street below.
Suddenly, Archie jerked his head forward, staring up through the side window. "Hey! Did you see that go by? An owl or something?"
"More likely a bat." Megan lowered her helmet over her head and clicked the visor shut. "Reads good. Light enhancers on. Archie, please hand me one of those stakes."
Reaching into the back seat, he dug in the canvas satchel and handed her the ash stake with its sharp end. They were quite solid, he realized, and would be a deadly weapon against a living person as well. "Here you go."
She hefted the stake and opened her door. "My love, I want you to stand by and use your judgement. I am bulletproof in this suit but you are not and I do not want you in harm's way. Okay?"
"Yeah, I guess," he grumbled. "Maybe I should start investing in some SWAT gear."
"Right now, you are invaluable as my back-up. You should get behind the wheel." As she stepped out of the Jeep, a sudden commotion erupted in the deal house. Windows on the ground floor flashed white from gunfire and there were screams. Even as the Trom Girl swung around the Jeep, she saw the front door slam open. An obese blond man in baggy pants and Hawaiian shirt jumped out the door but was stopped short as a man in black seized him by the back of the shirt. With one hand, effortlessly, the vigilante flung the two hundred seventy pound dealer up off his feet and back inside the house.
Megan raced up through the open door into a room full of horrors. Two tables were piled with bags of pills, scales, money in thick stacks, disposable phones, the usual parapenalia. There were three dead men strewn around the room in grotesque poses where they had been thrown. As she watched, the black-clad vigilante held the fat dealer up with one hand and crushed the top of the man's skull flat with a slap from his other hand. He tossed the corpse aside, then turned as he was aware of the intruder behind him.
Clearly a young woman even in the all-covering field suit with the helmet covering her entire head, this stranger surprised the killer. His own face could not be seen through the nylon mask pulled down over his head but his attitude showed he was not alarmed but pleased. As Megan raised the wooden stake in both hands, Captain Cadaver hissed in an inhuman sibilant way.
Somehow, Megan felt foggy and confused. Where was her lifelong discipline? Her hands faltered and she raised the stake again by a conscious effort. The vigilante pounced across the room to bring her down to the floor. All of her Kumundu training seemed to have faded away. The monster pinned her down with irresistable strength, twisted her head to one side and pulled down the collar of her field jacket. Megan wanted to struggle, to fight back, but her body wasn't responding. With a horror she had never known before, she felt the sharp pain of two fangs sinking into her throat.
V.
Unexpectedly, the creature which called itself Captain Courage recoiled violently, falling over backwards onto the floor, gasping and choking. The silk mask had been pulled up over the lower face to reveal a mouth with two sharp blood-smeared canine teeth in the upper jaw. Megan sat up, feeling free of the oppressive force which had numbed her. She clapped one hand to her wounded neck and felt blood. The Trom Girl fumbled for the wooden stake which she had dropped. All her usual determination had flooded back into her. As she jumped up, the vigilante in black recoiled and backed away from her in either fear or distaste.
Megan got back to her feet, raising the stake point forward with one hand on its flat end, and took a step forward. The monster hissed, swung around and grabbed a moaning gangster by one leg as it ran away toward the back of the house. A second later, there was a splintering crash as the creature broke right through the back door, dragging the injured man behind him. The Trom Girl hesitated to pursue him and then she saw Archie coming up beside her. His solid, reassuring bulk was a huge comfort.
"What a slaughterhouse!" he said. "I heard the bad guy crash through the back door and I had to see how you were. Megan! Your neck!" He pulled her hand gently away and gasped. "We have to get you to a hospital at once. Or maybe a church, I don't know...."
"It will heal in a few minutes," she told him. "See, the flow of blood has stopped. My tagra diet has given me that enhanced regenerative factor. You've seen me recover quickly from severe injuries."
"Well, yeah, but nothing like this!"
Megan Salenger tentatively touched the side of her throat and found the puncture wounds were in fact closing up. She felt fine. "Archie. Do you know what? I think that Captain Cadaver was repelled by the tagra in my system. My blood is reinforced with the healing elements of the tagra plant and he was repelled by it."
"Oh come on. Are you telling me that you have holy blood?"
"Not.. exactly. But the essence of tagra is a force for life and that creature could not bear its taste." She tugged the collar of her field suit back up and raised the visor on her helmet so that Archie could see her face. "We know now for a certainty that this Captain Courage is nothing more than an advanced vampire. He just took one of the injured drug dealers with him."
"I don't envy that poor soul," Archie said. "Captain Cadaver will suck his blood, kill him and then bury the body somewhere like he did Woerther. I bet this whole vigilante gimick is just to misdirect the authorities from the fact that a vampire's claiming victims."
Megan had been staring at the rear of the house, where the broken down door lay flat. She started tapping the flat end of the stake against one palm in a nervous gesture unusual for her. "Archie..."
"Yeah? You okay?"
"I'm fine. Archie, I think I am feeling hints of where the Undead is going. I can sort of see it in my mind's eye. It's vague."
The big mechanic put both hands on her narrow shoulders and squeezed. "You know, I read about this. Victims of vampires developed a sort of, I dunno, psychic link with them. I saw it in a Dracula movie too. You think you have a connection?"
"It seems so," she answered dubiously. "I hardly consider myself a victim, but I guess just being bitten without becoming infected is enough. Come on, Archie, we must hurry." She rushed from the shambles of that room, with its bloody corpses and walls pockmarked with bullet holes. Outside, they both jumped into the Jeep Cherokee and she peeled out, rounding the next corner just as they glimpsed the flashing red and blue lights of police cruisers pulling up where they had been.
"Never a dull moment," Archie managed to chuckle, glancing back. "How are you feeling, hon?"
"I do not think we have far to go," the Trom Girl said. "The connection is hard to explain, it is faint but persistent." She reached up with one hand and touched her throat. "The wounds have entirely healed. I doubt if I lost more than a few drops of blood."
"Here, hold this a second." Archie pressed the ivory crucifix into her hand and she turned her head for an instant to see what it was. She showed no reaction to the icon. After a few more seconds, he took the crucifix back.
"I wish we knew what really works and what can't be counted on," he said.
"Ah, that's the uncertainty of Midnight War," Megan replied, slowing down as they got farther from the crime scene. "That is a major reason why the Trom sponsored me and wanted me to join Tel Shai and the KDF. There is so much their science cannot explain or measure."
"Yeah, I can believe that," Archie said. He was silent then as they cruised through dark seedy streets, with buildings in poor repair and litter on the sidewalks. Check cashing places next to liquor stores next to second-hand clothing marts told the nature of the neighborhood. Finally, she pulled up near the corner of a side street and stared over at a delapidated one-story wooden house with an upstairs attic. No lights showed in that house. Parked near it was a late model GMC with a dented front bumper.
"I'm not completely certain..." the Trom Girl said as she reached down by her feet to pick up the wooden stake. "But I am drawn here and I can't imagine any other reason why this house would call to me." She had removed her helmet to avoid drawing more attention if a police car passed and now she reached in the back seat for it. "Please wait here, my love. This will not take long."
"No. Way. I'm going with you and no argument." Archie seldom used such an inflexible tone but when he did, he always meant it. "I've got the crucifix and the holy water and a satchel full of stakes. And I'm not helpless, Megan, your tax dollars went into teaching me to fight."
The Trom Girl did not argue. She leaned over and gave him a soft gentle kiss. "There is no one I would rather have beside me, Archie." She sat back and lowered the helmet over her head again. As she closed the visor, its surface acquired a faint pink sheen as the light enhancers kicked in.
Without another word, they got out of the jeep and crossed the pothole-covered side street up on to the sidewalk toward the house where they knew the monster waited. In the distance, a siren wailed as a police car sped to some other emergency.
VII.
Stepping up to the front door with its plain black numbers 427 marking it, Megan planted her feet, twisted from the waist and slammed her palm just above the doorknob. The lock snapped cleanly and the door swung open. It was not just strength behind this Kumundu technique, but the torque of her entire body channeled through her legs and torso into a single point. With Archie right behind her, each of them hefting one of the sharp stakes, they entered a dark musty living room.
There was no sign anyone lived here. The couch, the easy chairs, the television on its stand, the end tables with lamps... all were the usual furnishings one might expect. But there was no coat draped over a chair, no newspapers or magazines or half-empty coffee mugs or bowls of snacks that people tended to accumulate where they spent time. The walls were bare of framed family photos, the bookcase in one corner was bare.
Megan snapped on the searchlight built into the ridge on top of her helmet and a wide white beam swept over the room. Everything was dusty. If Captain Courage resided here, he did not spend any time in this room. She passed through an open doorway into a kitchen and saw the same unused look. The round table with its wooden chairs, the stove and oven, the sink with no dishes or glasses in sight, all gave the appearance that no one had been here since the previous renter.
In one corner of the kitchen was a narrow wooden door and Archie pointed silently at it. Megan tapped him on the shoulder and went over to pull it open. Wooden steps led down into the cellar. With the reassuring bulk of her partner right behind her, the Trom Girl went down those steps into a cellar with unfinished stone walls and no light except the beam from her helmet.
In an instant, they took in the whole nightmarish scene. Half the cement floor had been broken up with a pickaxe and shovel which were propped up next to the stairs. In the open dirt exposed by the hole, a cedar coffin with brass handles lay, its lid closed. Next to the hole in the ground was a redwood table on which was stretched the body of the drug dealer they had seen snatched away not an hour earlier. Protruding up from the corpse's chest was a wooden stake much like the ones they clutched themselves. The dead man's eyes were open and staring, and his neck was smeared with blood that had not had time to dry.
Swinging around and shielding his eyes with one arm from the beam of light was the being which called itself Captain Courage and which they had renamed Captain Cadaver. The Undead had removed its silk mask to reveal a pale bony face beneath a mat of dirty hair. The fangs were fully extended now, sharp as a rattlesnake's.
On the deepest instinctive level, they knew they were not facing a living criminal but something unnatural, something that should not exist. As if from a distance, Megan Salenger heard the stake clatter on the concrete floor when it fell from her hand. She felt dazed and uncertain again. All her usual sharp awareness had become wrapped in a mental fog when she stared into those red-irised eyes that were fixed on her.
Forcing one hand into his parka's side pocket, Archie managed to unscrew the cap on the silver flask and draw it out into the open. The monster had stalked in closer, all his attention on the Trom Girl as he literally licked his lips in anticipation. With a gesture he had not made in years, Archie McAllister drew the sign of the cross in front of him, splashing two streams of the holy water on the vampire.
Steam rushed up from where contact was made, and the creature convulsed with a shriek. He fell over backwards, struggling to get up. As he rose, they could see the skin on his face and hands had been corroded away down to the bone. His psychic dominance was broken. The Trom Girl snatched up the wooden stake from the floor and lunged forward. She kicked Captain Courage's feet out from under him with a low sweep and, as he fell heavily onto his back, she leaped up and came down with the stake using all her weight. The point sank cleanly into the center of the monster's chest and only stopped as it came out his back and hit the floor.
Megan stood up. She was visibly trembling. "There!" she yelled. "That's what you deserve!" This was so unlike her that she stared at her shaking hands in disbelief. Archie came up to put an arm around her and she exhaled sharply. "Oh. Oh, I never experienced that emotion before. It's so... primitive."
He rubbed her back and shoulders and she started to untense those muscles. "Raised by Trom but still completely Human," Archie said quietly. "Nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not. I'm glad," she answered. She held out her hand. "Give me that flask, please." As Archie watched, she carefully sprinkled all the blessed water over the remains of the vampire. Steam rose, not foul-smelling but fresh as a breeze, and the body fell apart into a sodden mass that was no longer recognizable.
The Trom Girl tightened the cap on the empty silver flask and returned it to Archie. "Let's get some distance away before we call 21 Black and report this. Our task is done but I do not feel like answering a lot of questions. We never found out his name or where he came from, but that doesn't seem important at the moment."
"I'm with you there," he said. "It'll be dawn in an hour. Let's drive until we find a nice spot to watch the sun come up. Then this will all be what happened yesterday."
9/23/2016
A Trom Girl Mystery
12/1-12/3/2004
I.
"We haven't been allowed to do an autopsy on Woertham yet," the local Medical Examiner grumbled as he unlocked the morgue door and flicked on the overhead fluorescent lights. He looked like he would be grouchy as a matter of course, with a sour face that had deep vertical lines around the mouth. George Allcott was sixty-one, losing his hair fast and not an imposing figure in any case. He stood no more than five feet eight, and the white lab coat over the old-fashioned tweed suit did not give him an air of authority.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs outside the morgue entrance, Megan Salenger was as serious and restrained in manner as usual. Only a few inches over five feet tall, wrapped in a red flannel shirt too large for her and faded jeans with the cuffs rollede up, she looked considerably younger than twenty-three. The Trom Girl had thick tousled black hair, cut short over an inquisitive foxlike face. As she entered the morgue, she glanced around and retained every detail with a near-photographic memory.
Behind her, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Archie McAllister followed her through the door with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. He always looked like he needed a nap, a haircut and a shave, and today was no different. Archie had on his down-filled parka but it was unusually warm outside for the first of December and he had left it unzipped. When he glanced around the morgue, it was with only mild curiosity.
"The FBI requested you to delay the autopsy until we arrived," she said in a tone that indicated it was not a question.
Allcott scowled more than usual at the comment. "Yes. The sheriff's department is not happy about having the case taken over the Federal authorities, I can assure you. Here he is. The late Lewis James Woerther." There were two autopsy tables in the room, and he led them to the one which had a sheet-covered body lying on it. Something was holding the sheet up over the corpse's torso to produce a tentlike effect.
"It's freezing in here," Archie observed.
"It's a morgue," replied Allcott in a tone just as cold. He yanked on blue latex gloves from a box sitting on a counter filled with tools and instruments. Without asking, Megan took a pair for herself and nodded at Archie to do the same. As they tugged on the gloves, the Medical Examiner for Winchell County pulled down the cover sheet to reveal the naked body of a man with a wooden stake in his chest two inches thick. The corpse showed blue and green discoloration, puffiness in the face and some sloughing of the flesh in general.
"I already pierced the abdomen to release the gas which had been generated," Allcott said. "I thought it better to do that before civilians arrived."
"Thank you for sparing us that," Megan said, stepping closer and scrutinizing the corpse intently. "This is the body that was found buried in the woods three miles from the reservoir, then? I would judge he has been dead four to five days, taking into account the cold state of the ground."
"Oh, very good," Allcott replied. He gave Megan a curious glance. "You're accurate. A couple hiking in the woods saw their dog become agitated and start sniffing the ground and barking. They noticed freshly turned earth in a shape consistent with burying a human body, so they notified the police. In short order, Mr Woerther was exhumed and brought here."
"Cause of death might seem obvious, but it's always good procedure to check for earlier trauma." She was so close to the corpse that she seemed about to sniff it but she was looking for bruises or scrapes. "What do you make of these two puncture wounds on the right anterior of the throat?"
"Snake bite, almost certainly. There is no discoloration or swelling around the wounds, which would seem to indicate death from other causes followed before the venom could act."
The Trom Girl pointed at the bloated arms and legs. "The punctures are too widely spaced for any known snake species. I see no abrasions from ligatures. He wasn't tied down when the stake was driven into his body."
That made Allcott blink in surprise. "Are you a trained investigator, Miss Salenger? The FBI described you only as a consultant."
"I hold a PI license for the State of New York," she answered absently. "I don't believe he was held down by bare hands, either. It appears that this person was already dead when the stake was inserted." Megan actually reached down and flexed the fingers of the corpse to test their state of rigidity. Normally, Allcott would have yelled at her not to do that, but he was impressed with her clinical attitude.
Glancing up, the Trom Girl frowned. "I assume tissue and blood samples have been taken?"
"Yes, of course. The lab is backlogged as usual and they promise results tomorrow. I do have to say I had extraordinary difficulty drawing any blood. There seemed to be almost none left in the body. How that happened is a puzzle--"
"Oh, come on already!" blurted Archie, speaking for the first time. "I mean, seriously. A body with two bite marks on the throat and no blood remaining, buried with a freaking stake through his heart. Haven't you watched any horror movies in your life?"
Alcott gave Archie an offended stare which was wasted on the big mechanic. "Young man, this is a medical facility. We do not consider folklore or Hollywood fantasies when making our examinations. I assure you a more prosaic explanation will be found than what you suggest."
"With all due respect, doctor," Megan said. "I have faced and destroyed genuine vampires. Not delusional living persons but the actual Undead. That is the reason Department 21 Black of the FBI wanted us present when you remove that stake."
Her voice was so calm and self-assured that Allcott did not know how to react to it. "Have everyone lost their good judgement? Young lady, I can promise you that when that foreign object is removed, as it should have been when the body was first brought here, that the cadavar will not spring to life and attempt to bite any of us in the neck."
"Let's hope not," Megan said with complete seriousness. "Are you ready? Archie, perhaps you will pull the stake while Dr Allcott and I hold the body steady."
"Sure, sure." Under his breath, the big man muttered, "Looking forward to it."
As the Trom Girl and the doctor pressed down on the corpse, Archie grasped the stake with both hands and yanked up sharply. It came out smoothly, more easily than he expected, and he stood there holding it awkwardly.
"You notice the stake is clean," Megan said to both of them. "There is no fluid or tissue adhering to it."
"That's odd," Allcott mumbled as he reached over to take the stake and examine it.
He swung around at a sudden sucking noise right behind him. The body had collapsed into a semi-liquid mass of putrescence, dripping off the edges of the autopsy table down to the white tile floor. The stench filled the morgue in a wave.
Gagging, hands clapped over his mouth, Archie ran from the room. Before she joined him, Megan calmly gave the stinking mass another appraisal. "Undead do that sometimes. At least he did not return to life and attack us," she said completely straight-faced.
II.
Outside in the parking lot, Archie was walking around and taking in huge lungfuls of the crisp winter air. As Megan approached, he grinned sheepishly and said, "I'm okay now, hon. That took me by surprise."
"It was very unpleasant," she replied in her understated way. Opening the back of her cherry red Jeep Cherokee, the Trom Girl took off her flannel shirt and rolled it up inside one of the clean garbage bags they kept in there, then dug for her denim jacket and yanked it on. "I am afraid some of that odor might cling to my shirt, so I did not stay there any longer."
In a wide weathered face with two day's stubble, Archie's gentle blue eyes gave away his true nature. "I feel bad for that coroner guy, having to clean up that mess. Hoo-wee... What a job."
"Department 21 Black will take over," Megan said, giving him an affectionate side hug. "And they will swear him to silence under the imperative of National Security and
avoiding public panic. He will not be able to tell even his family."
As they stood there in the clear chilly sunlight, they saw a black SUV with tinted windows approach from the other end of the parking lot. Three men in black suits with shirts and narrow ties emerged, as well as a woman in the same outfit excewpt for a modest pleated skirt. Megan and Archie had met them earlier in the day when they had taken this assignment.
"Hello, Agent Corbett, Agent Meredith," said the Trom Girl as two of them approached. Another man and the woman headed toward the hospital side entrance, carrying satchels.
"Those two have stronger stomaches than I do," said Agent Meredith. He was a short stocky man with a bulldog face. "They were med students and almost graduated before 21 Black recruited them."
Megan informed the two special agents what had happened in the morgue. "My conclusion is that the subject was killed by a vampire but immediately staked and buried before he could rise himself. Usually that takes one to three nights. Therefore, there is a vampire active in this area but he could not desire competition."
"Yeah, well, that sounds smart of him. Once the curse spreads, and you start having multiple bloodless bodies found, even the public catches on." Agent Meredith stared at Megan uncertainly. "I've never worked with the Kenneth Dred Foundation before. You guys have an impressive record but I have to say, no offense, you seem awful young for this kind of work."
"I was raised from childhood for this career," Megan replied casually. She did not mention that she had been a Human infant taken by boards of Trom scientists to be brought up as a liaison between the two Races. "Like the little girls whose parents start them on gymnastics at the age of five."
"Wow. Well, anyway," he went on, "my team is going to be investigating under our own procedures and policies. But the big shots at the Bureau requested that the KDF be brought in. They specifically asked for someone named Bane, Jeremy Bane."
"He is not available at present," the Trom Girl said without resentment. "My partner and I will look into this with the thought it might be connected to the vigilante killings near Buffalo."
Agent Meredith frowned, reconsidered and nodded solemnly. "That's occurred to us, as well. Good luck. We're so far north you could run across into Canada without getting out of breath, the big cities are sparse here." He hitched up his belt and turned to his partner. "Okay, Bill, I guess we need to see how those two are doing in there."
"I'm not eager about this part," grumbled the agent.
Heading toward the hospital, Mereditch called back, "Keep us updated, will you?"
"Absolutely," the Trom Girl said as she swung open the Jeep door and climbed up into the driver seat. Archie got in on the passenger side and they eased out in traffic. "Whew," he said, "Off to a rough start. So we're heading back down to Buffalo? You're putting some mileage on this baby."
Megan grinned unexpectedly, her whole face brightening with the expresion. "Fortunately, my boyfriend is a mechanic!"
"Yeah, right," he reached over to tousle her hair. "So, we've got another long ride ahead of us. We've been in this Jeep since eight this morning. What's the deal on this vigilante in Buffalo?"
The Trom Girl launched into an extremely long detailed summary of the case, making Archie wonder why he had opened that particular door. But he did want to know. The gist of it was that some individual had been attacking drug rings around the north country for the past four months. These were groups importing opiates and heroin in large amounts and then breaking the shipments up to sell further downstate. The vigilante evidently had military-grade body armor and devastating fighting skill, which led many in the law enforcement community to figure he was an ex-Navy SEAL or Green Beret, something like that.
Lots of bullets were fired every time the vigilante crashed in a deal house, but he himself apparently had never been wounded. He left a room full of broken bodies, destroyed the drugs down the plumbing or into the sewers directly by lifting manhole covers. Three times, a drug dealer had survived the attack and their descriptions were all the same.
The vigilante was not a big man, maybe five feet ten, and wiry. He dressed in simple black clothing, boots and sweatpants and sweatshirt, all available in hundreds of stores, nothing distinctive and impossible to trace. The man covered his entire head with black nylon pulled tight and had not been known to speak.
A few puzzling details were known. Despite his not wearing gloves, the vigilante left no fingerprints even on objects he had clearly been wielding as weapons. The dealers often had lookouts outside or at windows watching for cars but had seen nothing before the attacks.. not even a man walking up the sidewalk. It was a mystery how he arrived so unexpectedly and how he got away so quickly, often as the police were literally coming in the door.
Most ominously, six gang members had disappeared completely over the course of the vigilante attacks. They were known to have been on the scene at the time, but they were simply never heard from again.
Archie interrupted, "Wait, wait, I think I can guess where you're going with this! That body in the morgue today with the toothpick in his chest, Woerther whatever-his-name-was..."
"He was the most recent missing gang member," Megan finished for him. "Yes."
III.
They pulled into the small city of Nyoga, with Lake Erie clearly visible a few miles away. This had been a manufacturing town but when the mills closed down twenty years earlier, the population had dropped away. Local businesses struggled. Most of Nyoga could be considered the bad part of town, and it was here that a lot of the painkiller trade was centered. The most prosperous district was centered around a railroad depot where various shops and fast-food franchises were successful. Here also was the MIROSLAV HOTEL, a three story stone building kept in relatively good repair.
Pulling into the gravel lot behind the hotel, Megan hopped out. They had checked in that afternoon before going out to where the corpse had been found. The Trom Girl stretched and yawned.
Watching her, Archie said, "I know you're too duty-bound to mention it, honey, but we're both exhausted. We were out late last night. Between us, we've been behind the wheel since early this morning and it's past five now. I vote for hot showers, some sleep and then a big dinner before we go out to fight the Midnight War again."
She visibly drooped as she gave up on seeming to be alert and eager. "I'm too tired to even consider anything else, my love. Come on. We will function better when we're rested and fed."
They trudged through the ancient lobby with its ceiling fan and potted plants and prints on the wall of forgotten Kentucky Derby winners. At the desk sat old Miroslav himelf, bent over a newspaper so closely his eyesight was obviously nearing its end. They waved politely and went up the stairs to their rooms on the second floor.
The rooms were clean and airy, with two big windows overlooking the steet, and the usual furniture was provided. Their suitcases and knapsacks were where they had left him, as Megan could tell within a fraction of an inch. She took an oversized yellow T-shirt from her knapsack and headed for the bathroom.
"Want some help scrubbing your back, hon?" asked Archie as he started unlacing his heavy work shoes.
"No, sorry. That always leads to fun and honestly I don't have the energy right now. I really AM sorry, my love," came her voice through the door.
"That's all right," the big mechanic said agreeably. "There's always tomorrow."
He stripped down and grabbed a thin cotton robe from his own luggage. Archie was a big hairy bear of a man, muscular from years of garage work but not in prime athletic condition by any means. He was thick around the waist from a few too many beers.
As Megan came out in the 3XXX T-shirt that reached past her knees, her hair still damp as she toweled it, she smiled at Archie standing there naked. "Oh, I see something I like," she almost sang, "and he's looking at me the same way. I'll be asleep when you get done in there, though."
Archie kissed her lightly as she passed. "We both got lucky, hon. I had figured love was meant for everyone but me." He went into the bathroom and luxuriated in the steaming hot water and lots of soap. Archie took his time, making sure he got every bit of the foul stink from the morgue out of his hair and from under his fingernails. Then he toweled roughly dry, shrugged into his bathrobe which was at least a decade old and worn at the elbows, and stepped out.
The radiator in the corner was on. The room was warm, snug, dark and completely comforting. On one side of the double bed, Megan Salenger lay curled up on her side under the blankets. Archie took great pains not to wake her as he climbed onto the other side, got himself comfortable and was asleep before he knew it.
IV.
Just after eleven, they both awoke into darkness. The only light in the room came from the numerals on the bedside clock radio. Megan stirred, felt Archie sitting up next to her and said, "Good evening. Feeling good?"
"Great but I'm starving. It's a quarter after eleven? I wonder what's open in town?" He got out of bed and stood up by the nightstand. "Watch your eyes, I'm turning on the lamp." In the mellow amber light, he loomed up gigantic over her, stretching his arms up and behind him.
Megan had picked up her Link from the nightstand on her side. "It seems I received a call two minutes ago. Maybe that buzz was what awakened us. It's from the headquarters building." She patched in the regular phone system and returned the call. "Hello?"
"Let me guess who that was?" Archie grumbled as he started to dig for a fresh shirt and underwear.
"Unicorn? Hi. Did you just call? I know I sound drowsy. No, it is none of your business what I was really doing. Is there any purpose to your call other than your curiosity about my love life? Well, then, go ahead. I see. 21 Black told you this? I see. That is indeed interesting. Thank you. What? Yes, Ashley, I promise. If we need you to come to our rescue at the last second, I will certainly call you. No, I will not tell Archie you think he's all kinds of cute. When I get back, I will instead recommend that Sable give you many more duties, you obviously have too much free time. Hello?"
Megan lowered the Link back to the nightstand. "She hung up. I will never understand that girl."
Archie laughed at the baffled expression on her face, tucking a blue chambray shirt into his jeans. "She hero worships you, hon. If you took her on one or two of these 'Trom Girl mysteries,' you'd make her incredibly happy."
"Maybe at some point," Megan said as she went to her suitcase and started picking out clothes. "Honestly, Archie, I feel so comfortable working with you I don't want another partner even occasionally."
"What did Unicorn have to say? Other than teasing you?"
Getting out her field suit, Megan slipped into the snug silk-thin Trom armor that left only her head, feet and hands exposed. It dispersed impact over its entire surface, which protected her against anything up to an including a high-powered rifle bullet while leaving only a faint bruise. "Oh, she was pestering the 21 Black agents back in Manhattan. You know how she can pile on that charm. It's been kept from the public, but the vigilante up here has sent a series of notes to the police. The notes include details only someone present at the killings would know. He brags about what a public service he's doing, how he is cleaning the streets of vermin with no right to live. And he signs himself, 'Captain Courage.'"
"What the hell? Captain Courage? Sounds like he has some sort of super-hero delusion," Archie scoffed.
"Unicorn says many of the police are beginning to admire him. So far, he has not killed any innocent bystanders, only drug dealers and pimps. The way he is not harmed by bullets and kills armed gangsters apparently barehanded, only to vanish into the night, has given him a kind of mystique. He has fans."
Watching her tug on the heavy boots, tight pants and long-sleeved jersey, all black, Archie seemed troubled. "Honey, how do you feel about this? Are you maybe a little sympathetic to his crusade?"
Trom Girl stood up, tucking in her shirt and gave him a completely serious gaze. "I agree that accused persons have the right to a fair trial, no matter what the crime. That is your system of justice and the Trom approve with its principles. Admittedly, the KDF and I have sometimes broken those principles. It's a moral problem that I am troubled by, but I feel we have an obligation to act because of the superhuman adversaries we face."
"Yeah? You're right, the monsters and maniacs you tackle could never be brought to court. Judges and prosecutors would either disbelieve the charges or treat them like regular criminals," Archie admitted.
"They would promptly escape. Samhain has gotten out of maximum security prisons five times. Imagine handing Wu Lung or Quilt over to the police. There would be a trail of murdered officers and the monster would be back out in the night within the hour." Megan picked up the waist-length field suit jacket, which had its own inner lining of the Trom armor. Concealed deftly on her person were now a dozen tiny gadgets and weapons in their concealed pouches and slits.
Archie always felt a little jolt of excitement when she got into that suit because it meant she was ready for trouble and anything could happen. His pulse sped up a bit. "So, any special gear for tonight?"
"Oh, yes." She hauled a canvas bag four feet long from under the bed and handed it to him. It had two straps to be carried over a shoulder. "Six stakes of ash, pointed at one end. I procured them from the KDF arsenal. The metal ring toward the flat end weighs them for throwing. We have a great deal of specialized equipment there. Here is a silver flask of holy water blessed with the full approval of Cardinal Valenti. Jeremy saved his sister once from a kidnapping. And here, I want you to carry this."
She handed Archie an ornate ivory crucifix seven inches long. The figure of Jesus was beautifully detailed. Archie studied the cross dubiously. "Megan, listen. I was brought up in a good Irish Catholic family outside Boston. I don't know if I'm comfortable using this as... well, a weapon."
The Trom Girl addressed his concerns respectfully. "The Cardinal has given us a dispensation. We are only to use these gifts to save innocent lives and to drive back unholy creatures of the night. I couldn't find the communal wafers he gave us, but I know we have some somewhere in the arsenal."
"Welll... if it's authorized by Cardinal Valenti, I guess I can go along with it." He slung the satchel over one shoulder and gently pocketed the crucifix.
"I must warn you that holy symbols do not always work," Megan said. "Unfortunately, there are varieties of vampires and some do not obey the traditional rules. These are just reasonable precautions."
"Great."
"We should get moving. This Captain Courage, if we accept his name for himself, usually strikes in the middle of the night. Say, three AM. We will want to find an all-night diner first for a late dinner."
Archie smiled sheepishly. "Until you said that, I had forgotten I was hungry."
IV.
Locating a slightly seedy diner on the outskirts of Nyoga, they settled down to order. Both decided on breakfast food, midnight being a bit late for a heavy meal, and soon were digging into plates of French toast, scrambled eggs and bacon with side orders of home fries. Archie had his black coffee, while Megan drank two glasses of plain water.
By established custom, they did not discuss the case while at the table. This improved the eating experience and gave them a break. Instead, they chatted about Archie's year of, as he put it, "bumming around Europe" after getting out of the Army. He was finishing a droll story about having to explain how he ended up leading an upset goat on a leash through a German town while looking for its owner who had in fact boarded a plane for Italy.
"I don't know if the police believed me so much as they didn't want to deal with the whole situation," he concluded, "But they loaded the goat in the back of the car and took her away. The last I saw was her little face staring sadly at me as they drove away."
Megan giggled, something rare for her. "I dare say she still misses you, Archie."
"The funny thing is, I did write to her but never heard back."
"Now I know you are joking," Trom Girl said as the check arrived. She glanced at it to see that the math was correct. "This is going on my KDF expense account, as is the hotel. Archie, are you getting tired of going on these cases with me?"
"Naw, not at all. You know the oddest thing is, at first I thought they were all gonna be regular murder mysteries and robberies and stuff. I didn't really believe the Midnight War was anything more than ghost reports and sightings of Bigfoot."
Megan picked up her platinum Visa card provided for her by the KDF and started to get up. "You certainly have seen a great deal of the genuine paranormal since then"
"Yep. And I love it. It's a whole secret world out there that most people never even suspect is going on." He put on his parka and shrugged. "Really fascinating and more than a litle scary."
As they left the diner, the night had gotten distinctly chillier. Archie pulled up the zipper on his parka but Megan's field suit was designed to keep her comfortable under much worse conditions. They walked over to her Jeep and she hopped up behind the wheel.
"I have memorized the map of local streets," she explained. "On the way back, it would be a relief if you drove."
"Sure." Archie buckled himself in. "You know what I was thinking? It'd be odd if this Captain Courage turns out not to be a vampire after all. He's just a Marine with body armor and more guts than good sense."
"Then we could simply detain him for the police. But what of the gang member who was exhumed and who decomposed instantly? He was clearly Undead."
"Aw, just a passing thought," Archie said. "I'm sure this Captain Courage would be better called Captain Cadaver."
Megan made the faintest chuckle. "Captain Cadaver..." She started up the Jeep and headed toward the section of town where the crime rate was highest. 21 Black had given her the addresses of three known deal houses and two suspected ones. Driving in circles around that neighborhood was a sobering experience. Boarded up stores, yards full of junk, teenagers standing in doorways at two in the morning. When they saw a grown man on a child's bicycle, Archie pointed it out as a sure sign of drug traffic.
"He can cut across yards and through alleys where police cars can't follow," he mentioned.
"Oh. I wondered about that." Megan started parking on dark side streets where there were no street lamps and watching the designated deal houses. One seemed more active than the others. Young black men entered in pairs, were inside for ten or fifteen minutes and then split up in opposite directions when they emerged. In a second story window, the outline of a head and shoulders stayed unmoving, watching the street below.
Suddenly, Archie jerked his head forward, staring up through the side window. "Hey! Did you see that go by? An owl or something?"
"More likely a bat." Megan lowered her helmet over her head and clicked the visor shut. "Reads good. Light enhancers on. Archie, please hand me one of those stakes."
Reaching into the back seat, he dug in the canvas satchel and handed her the ash stake with its sharp end. They were quite solid, he realized, and would be a deadly weapon against a living person as well. "Here you go."
She hefted the stake and opened her door. "My love, I want you to stand by and use your judgement. I am bulletproof in this suit but you are not and I do not want you in harm's way. Okay?"
"Yeah, I guess," he grumbled. "Maybe I should start investing in some SWAT gear."
"Right now, you are invaluable as my back-up. You should get behind the wheel." As she stepped out of the Jeep, a sudden commotion erupted in the deal house. Windows on the ground floor flashed white from gunfire and there were screams. Even as the Trom Girl swung around the Jeep, she saw the front door slam open. An obese blond man in baggy pants and Hawaiian shirt jumped out the door but was stopped short as a man in black seized him by the back of the shirt. With one hand, effortlessly, the vigilante flung the two hundred seventy pound dealer up off his feet and back inside the house.
Megan raced up through the open door into a room full of horrors. Two tables were piled with bags of pills, scales, money in thick stacks, disposable phones, the usual parapenalia. There were three dead men strewn around the room in grotesque poses where they had been thrown. As she watched, the black-clad vigilante held the fat dealer up with one hand and crushed the top of the man's skull flat with a slap from his other hand. He tossed the corpse aside, then turned as he was aware of the intruder behind him.
Clearly a young woman even in the all-covering field suit with the helmet covering her entire head, this stranger surprised the killer. His own face could not be seen through the nylon mask pulled down over his head but his attitude showed he was not alarmed but pleased. As Megan raised the wooden stake in both hands, Captain Cadaver hissed in an inhuman sibilant way.
Somehow, Megan felt foggy and confused. Where was her lifelong discipline? Her hands faltered and she raised the stake again by a conscious effort. The vigilante pounced across the room to bring her down to the floor. All of her Kumundu training seemed to have faded away. The monster pinned her down with irresistable strength, twisted her head to one side and pulled down the collar of her field jacket. Megan wanted to struggle, to fight back, but her body wasn't responding. With a horror she had never known before, she felt the sharp pain of two fangs sinking into her throat.
V.
Unexpectedly, the creature which called itself Captain Courage recoiled violently, falling over backwards onto the floor, gasping and choking. The silk mask had been pulled up over the lower face to reveal a mouth with two sharp blood-smeared canine teeth in the upper jaw. Megan sat up, feeling free of the oppressive force which had numbed her. She clapped one hand to her wounded neck and felt blood. The Trom Girl fumbled for the wooden stake which she had dropped. All her usual determination had flooded back into her. As she jumped up, the vigilante in black recoiled and backed away from her in either fear or distaste.
Megan got back to her feet, raising the stake point forward with one hand on its flat end, and took a step forward. The monster hissed, swung around and grabbed a moaning gangster by one leg as it ran away toward the back of the house. A second later, there was a splintering crash as the creature broke right through the back door, dragging the injured man behind him. The Trom Girl hesitated to pursue him and then she saw Archie coming up beside her. His solid, reassuring bulk was a huge comfort.
"What a slaughterhouse!" he said. "I heard the bad guy crash through the back door and I had to see how you were. Megan! Your neck!" He pulled her hand gently away and gasped. "We have to get you to a hospital at once. Or maybe a church, I don't know...."
"It will heal in a few minutes," she told him. "See, the flow of blood has stopped. My tagra diet has given me that enhanced regenerative factor. You've seen me recover quickly from severe injuries."
"Well, yeah, but nothing like this!"
Megan Salenger tentatively touched the side of her throat and found the puncture wounds were in fact closing up. She felt fine. "Archie. Do you know what? I think that Captain Cadaver was repelled by the tagra in my system. My blood is reinforced with the healing elements of the tagra plant and he was repelled by it."
"Oh come on. Are you telling me that you have holy blood?"
"Not.. exactly. But the essence of tagra is a force for life and that creature could not bear its taste." She tugged the collar of her field suit back up and raised the visor on her helmet so that Archie could see her face. "We know now for a certainty that this Captain Courage is nothing more than an advanced vampire. He just took one of the injured drug dealers with him."
"I don't envy that poor soul," Archie said. "Captain Cadaver will suck his blood, kill him and then bury the body somewhere like he did Woerther. I bet this whole vigilante gimick is just to misdirect the authorities from the fact that a vampire's claiming victims."
Megan had been staring at the rear of the house, where the broken down door lay flat. She started tapping the flat end of the stake against one palm in a nervous gesture unusual for her. "Archie..."
"Yeah? You okay?"
"I'm fine. Archie, I think I am feeling hints of where the Undead is going. I can sort of see it in my mind's eye. It's vague."
The big mechanic put both hands on her narrow shoulders and squeezed. "You know, I read about this. Victims of vampires developed a sort of, I dunno, psychic link with them. I saw it in a Dracula movie too. You think you have a connection?"
"It seems so," she answered dubiously. "I hardly consider myself a victim, but I guess just being bitten without becoming infected is enough. Come on, Archie, we must hurry." She rushed from the shambles of that room, with its bloody corpses and walls pockmarked with bullet holes. Outside, they both jumped into the Jeep Cherokee and she peeled out, rounding the next corner just as they glimpsed the flashing red and blue lights of police cruisers pulling up where they had been.
"Never a dull moment," Archie managed to chuckle, glancing back. "How are you feeling, hon?"
"I do not think we have far to go," the Trom Girl said. "The connection is hard to explain, it is faint but persistent." She reached up with one hand and touched her throat. "The wounds have entirely healed. I doubt if I lost more than a few drops of blood."
"Here, hold this a second." Archie pressed the ivory crucifix into her hand and she turned her head for an instant to see what it was. She showed no reaction to the icon. After a few more seconds, he took the crucifix back.
"I wish we knew what really works and what can't be counted on," he said.
"Ah, that's the uncertainty of Midnight War," Megan replied, slowing down as they got farther from the crime scene. "That is a major reason why the Trom sponsored me and wanted me to join Tel Shai and the KDF. There is so much their science cannot explain or measure."
"Yeah, I can believe that," Archie said. He was silent then as they cruised through dark seedy streets, with buildings in poor repair and litter on the sidewalks. Check cashing places next to liquor stores next to second-hand clothing marts told the nature of the neighborhood. Finally, she pulled up near the corner of a side street and stared over at a delapidated one-story wooden house with an upstairs attic. No lights showed in that house. Parked near it was a late model GMC with a dented front bumper.
"I'm not completely certain..." the Trom Girl said as she reached down by her feet to pick up the wooden stake. "But I am drawn here and I can't imagine any other reason why this house would call to me." She had removed her helmet to avoid drawing more attention if a police car passed and now she reached in the back seat for it. "Please wait here, my love. This will not take long."
"No. Way. I'm going with you and no argument." Archie seldom used such an inflexible tone but when he did, he always meant it. "I've got the crucifix and the holy water and a satchel full of stakes. And I'm not helpless, Megan, your tax dollars went into teaching me to fight."
The Trom Girl did not argue. She leaned over and gave him a soft gentle kiss. "There is no one I would rather have beside me, Archie." She sat back and lowered the helmet over her head again. As she closed the visor, its surface acquired a faint pink sheen as the light enhancers kicked in.
Without another word, they got out of the jeep and crossed the pothole-covered side street up on to the sidewalk toward the house where they knew the monster waited. In the distance, a siren wailed as a police car sped to some other emergency.
VII.
Stepping up to the front door with its plain black numbers 427 marking it, Megan planted her feet, twisted from the waist and slammed her palm just above the doorknob. The lock snapped cleanly and the door swung open. It was not just strength behind this Kumundu technique, but the torque of her entire body channeled through her legs and torso into a single point. With Archie right behind her, each of them hefting one of the sharp stakes, they entered a dark musty living room.
There was no sign anyone lived here. The couch, the easy chairs, the television on its stand, the end tables with lamps... all were the usual furnishings one might expect. But there was no coat draped over a chair, no newspapers or magazines or half-empty coffee mugs or bowls of snacks that people tended to accumulate where they spent time. The walls were bare of framed family photos, the bookcase in one corner was bare.
Megan snapped on the searchlight built into the ridge on top of her helmet and a wide white beam swept over the room. Everything was dusty. If Captain Courage resided here, he did not spend any time in this room. She passed through an open doorway into a kitchen and saw the same unused look. The round table with its wooden chairs, the stove and oven, the sink with no dishes or glasses in sight, all gave the appearance that no one had been here since the previous renter.
In one corner of the kitchen was a narrow wooden door and Archie pointed silently at it. Megan tapped him on the shoulder and went over to pull it open. Wooden steps led down into the cellar. With the reassuring bulk of her partner right behind her, the Trom Girl went down those steps into a cellar with unfinished stone walls and no light except the beam from her helmet.
In an instant, they took in the whole nightmarish scene. Half the cement floor had been broken up with a pickaxe and shovel which were propped up next to the stairs. In the open dirt exposed by the hole, a cedar coffin with brass handles lay, its lid closed. Next to the hole in the ground was a redwood table on which was stretched the body of the drug dealer they had seen snatched away not an hour earlier. Protruding up from the corpse's chest was a wooden stake much like the ones they clutched themselves. The dead man's eyes were open and staring, and his neck was smeared with blood that had not had time to dry.
Swinging around and shielding his eyes with one arm from the beam of light was the being which called itself Captain Courage and which they had renamed Captain Cadaver. The Undead had removed its silk mask to reveal a pale bony face beneath a mat of dirty hair. The fangs were fully extended now, sharp as a rattlesnake's.
On the deepest instinctive level, they knew they were not facing a living criminal but something unnatural, something that should not exist. As if from a distance, Megan Salenger heard the stake clatter on the concrete floor when it fell from her hand. She felt dazed and uncertain again. All her usual sharp awareness had become wrapped in a mental fog when she stared into those red-irised eyes that were fixed on her.
Forcing one hand into his parka's side pocket, Archie managed to unscrew the cap on the silver flask and draw it out into the open. The monster had stalked in closer, all his attention on the Trom Girl as he literally licked his lips in anticipation. With a gesture he had not made in years, Archie McAllister drew the sign of the cross in front of him, splashing two streams of the holy water on the vampire.
Steam rushed up from where contact was made, and the creature convulsed with a shriek. He fell over backwards, struggling to get up. As he rose, they could see the skin on his face and hands had been corroded away down to the bone. His psychic dominance was broken. The Trom Girl snatched up the wooden stake from the floor and lunged forward. She kicked Captain Courage's feet out from under him with a low sweep and, as he fell heavily onto his back, she leaped up and came down with the stake using all her weight. The point sank cleanly into the center of the monster's chest and only stopped as it came out his back and hit the floor.
Megan stood up. She was visibly trembling. "There!" she yelled. "That's what you deserve!" This was so unlike her that she stared at her shaking hands in disbelief. Archie came up to put an arm around her and she exhaled sharply. "Oh. Oh, I never experienced that emotion before. It's so... primitive."
He rubbed her back and shoulders and she started to untense those muscles. "Raised by Trom but still completely Human," Archie said quietly. "Nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not. I'm glad," she answered. She held out her hand. "Give me that flask, please." As Archie watched, she carefully sprinkled all the blessed water over the remains of the vampire. Steam rose, not foul-smelling but fresh as a breeze, and the body fell apart into a sodden mass that was no longer recognizable.
The Trom Girl tightened the cap on the empty silver flask and returned it to Archie. "Let's get some distance away before we call 21 Black and report this. Our task is done but I do not feel like answering a lot of questions. We never found out his name or where he came from, but that doesn't seem important at the moment."
"I'm with you there," he said. "It'll be dawn in an hour. Let's drive until we find a nice spot to watch the sun come up. Then this will all be what happened yesterday."
9/23/2016
