Department 19: Battle Lines by Will Hill Page B

down. There were only a handful of cars parked on this level, spread out between the thick concrete pillars that supported the dilapidated structure. Water dripped steadily from numerous cracks in the ceiling, and the smell of petrol and grease was thick in the air.
    “Where is he?” asked Jacobs.
    “On this level somewhere,” said Angela. “Spread out and find him.”
    The three black-clad figures moved slowly towards the centre of the car park, spacing out as they walked. Angela was on the left, her T-Bone resting against her shoulder, her breathing shallow and steady. Through the thermographic filter on her visor the car park was a landscape of grey and blue, cold and uninviting.
    “Stay alert,” she said, via the comms system that linked them together. “Let’s take him down clean and easy.”
    Three pairs of boots clicked quietly across the concrete. In the distance, Angela could hear cars making their way along the bypass, but the car park itself was silent. She felt a chill run up her spine as she remembered the speed the vampire had shown in the train yard, but tried to ignore it.
    Nothing to worry about. Just a routine kill.
    She looked across the wide concrete space and checked her squad mates. Jacobs was five metres to her right, moving steadily, with Carlisle the same distance again beyond him. A grim smile rose on her face as she watched them, an expression that froze in place as a voice suddenly echoed around them.
    “Leave me alone,” it growled. “I just want to be left alone.”
    Angela stopped dead. “Hold,” she said, then flicked her visor up as her squad mates did as they were ordered. She surveyed the empty space, looking for the source of the voice, suddenly acutely aware that the structural pillars were more than wide enough for someone to hide behind.
    She reached down and twisted the control dial on her belt. “Why don’t you come out?” she asked, her amplified voice booming through the car park. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
    “I’m not afraid!” screamed the vampire. His voice was shrill, reverberating against the flat concrete walls. “I’m not I’m not I’m not! Leave me alone!”
    “We can’t do that,” she replied, her voice steady. “Just come out.”
    There was no reply.
    Angela scanned the area slowly, looking for any sign of their target. There was nothing: no shadow, no movement, nothing to give away his position. She looked at Jacobs, his T-Bone resting in his hands, then at Carlisle, standing easily between two pillars with his MP5 at his shoulder.
    Then something white moved. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak, but it was already too late.
    The vampire emerged from behind one of the concrete pillars, so suddenly it was as though he materialised from thin air. Carlisle began to turn, bringing his gun around, but was far too slow; one of the vampire’s fists crashed into his visor with a noise like a clap of thunder. The purple plastic shattered beneath the force of the blow, sending jagged shards into the Operator’s face and neck, drawing pulsing blood from innumerable cuts. Carlisle crashed unconscious to the concrete floor, his body spasming, his legs drumming involuntarily on the ground.
    The vampire howled, an ear-splitting bellow of triumph, and turned its crimson gaze on Jacobs as the veteran Operator raised his T-Bone.
    Alex Jacobs pushed down the fear that was pressing on his heart and slid his finger inside the trigger guard, his attention focused completely on the monster before him. The vampire was almost naked, his modesty spared by the fluttering scraps of what had once been his hospital gown. The man was skinny, almost malnourished, and his shaven head was covered in whirls and loops of pink scar tissue. His eyes blazed red and his mouth hung open, revealing gleaming white fangs.
    The T-Bone settled against Jacobs’s shoulder; he aimed down the barrel, sighting the centre of the vampire’s chest. He began to