Come With Me Now- The First Interlude
Less than six hours after the last vampire was liberated from the prison camp the Louisiana National Guard rolled in. Within moments they were packing up all the files, computers and samples that had been collected there over the past few months.
“I don’t want so much as even a paper clip left behind here!” General Clinton bellowed as he walked through the rooms, stepping over bodies and supervising his soldiers packing. Much information had been learned here in such a short time, and he had been tasked with retrieving that research and continuing to build on it somewhere else. Conscious that his men were hyper aware of his every move he suppressed a shudder as he thought about the newest member of his government research team. He could not stand to be in a room with him, and no matter what the folks in charge thought of him and what a great asset he would be to the project Clinton would never trust him.
In his soul he knew that there was another agenda being worked and it was not that of the U.S. Government. At least that is what he told himself to sleep at night. But he didn’t get to be a general by rocking the boat, at least not until he had a good seat and tight hold on the sides. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer they had told him”, like he was some green rookie in from his first tour. Fuck ’em. They’ll see that letting some enemies in too close would lead to having your throat ripped out. Anyone who would turn against their own was not a worthy ally.
General Randolph Clinton was fourth generation military. A member of his family had been in every conflict World War I. He had been raised to a code of honor and decency that seemed to be lost to the world today. When he spoke, he spoke as he had been raised and indoctrinated to speak. He spoke to the larger goal, and the greater vision and he took his orders from Uncle Sam. There had never been a task that he had not been called upon to deliver that had not been delivered above and beyond. When he thought though, he had started to wonder if the days of honor and meaning had passed on without him, making him a man out of his place and his time.
Since the great revelation that vampires lived and walked among them he had kept his eyes open and his mouth shut. Everyone had an opinion, and few of those opinions were formed on any factual information. Sometimes it seemed that Uncle Sam had become the kind of force that he had been raised to stand in opposition of every day of his life. To his way of thinking it was wrong to tax the vampires and still treat them as less than citizens. You could have it one way or the other, but not both. Taxation, representation, citizens, the very tenants this country had been founded on were being trod asunder in the way the vampire population was being handled. Well, unofficially handled. He sighed and looked around the room.
What he saw here was not unlike the stories his grandfather had told him about the concentration camps in Germany. What was it about the fact that these were vampires made this all right? Burrell had lost his little mind down here, that was for sure, but he was not the only one running this kind of government sanctioned facility. There were several, and they were all off the books. They had become a hive of activity when word reached them that Burrell had been murdered by a vampire and his camp had been liberated. Voices screaming on Capitol Hill calling out for vengeance. Randolph knew he had a duty to those voices and he was here to fulfill it.
Pushing back his personal thoughts, saving them for the wee hours of the night when he would pull them out again and share them with a glass of brandy, he moved down the corridor toward the executive offices. Halfway down the hall he heard a woman’s voice.
“When we say forever, we have to mean it…”
Clinton found two soldiers watching a video session of a female vampire on a couch talking to a psychiatrist. Christ, really? I had known some hard and twisted shit had taken place here, but I had no idea that they had started psycho analyzing them! What the hell had Burrell been up to down here?
“What the fuck is going on in here?” he barked at the two young soldiers who were intently watching the screen. They jumped about a foot off the floor and reached to turn the computer off. “Leave it!” he commanded, “And get the fuck back to packing!”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” they answered in unison, scrambling to get the files into the box and moving out the room as quickly as possible. Clinton looked back to the screen and saw that the vampire was now talking about her past.
“I thought that the connection between a vampire and the one who made them was unbreakable. What happened that drove you from the arms of your sire?”
“Maker. We call them our makers. The doctor scribbled down some notes. He looks like a smarmy little fuck, Clinton thought as the session resumed.
“Ah, your maker then. What happened that drove you from the arms of your maker?”
“Magical fairy flavored vagina.”
“I’m sorry, what does that mean?”
“Nothing. Can I have a drink now?”
Shaking his head Clinton turned off the computer screen. Fucking shrinks, they were everywhere analyzing everything, and usually it all went back to toilet training and shitty parents. Well, in this case possibly shitty ‘makers’.
“Sir,” his lieutenant called from the door. He turned, acknowledging the soldier. “We have the first truck loaded. Where is this stuff headed to, sir?”
“Nevada,” Clinton answered dismissing the soldier, and following him from the room, already looking for some safe place to park his well decorated ass and latch on for a tight hold.