Elizabeth tossed the smoke grenade into the bullring. Red smoke billowed from the grenade, which caught Raton's attention. He lowered the Huey into the ring.
"Okay, guys," Elizabeth ordered, "follow me. Dawn and Grace, be ready to assist with covering fire. And here we go!"
Elizabeth ran the short distance to the chopper and threw herself behind the M60. Once more she began returning fire into the stands with the machine gun as Dawn bolted from cover and jumped into the helicopter. Dawn also put down some covering fire as Grace told Scott to take Doug and go, which Scott did. Scott tried to make Doug as small a target as possible.
"Ouch!" Doug said. "You do know, I got a bad back!"
"Yeah, well, that's gonna be the least of your worries if you don't keep your head down!"
Scott pushed Doug into the helicopter. As Doug took a seat, Raton Ramirez turned his head to see his passenger.
"Hey!" Raton said, "I know you! I brought you here, didn't I?"
"So that was you. You were in a hurry to get out of here the last time. Why not now?"
"More money."
"Ah, that would do it."
Scott and Doug were followed by Grace, who had been providing covering fire with her captured G36. Grace took the shotgun seat.
"Well, hello, little lady," Raton said. "My name's Raton. What's yours?"
"Seriously? We don't have time for that shit!"
To accentuate her point, Grace thrust the rifle out the passenger's window and began firing at a group of commandos. Her aim wasn't the best due to the angle and the vibration from the chopper, but her fire did keep the commandos from advancing any further.
Next was Jeremiah. He too had taken a rifle from a fallen commando, but he hadn't fired it. He tossed it aside as he prepared to enter the helicopter.
"Now, Cressida, come!" He cried.
Cressida hesitated briefly. "Do you want me to come, Jeremiah? Do you really, after what I did to you?"
"Yes! Of course I do! Please! We need to leave!"
Cressida nodded, then left her cover and headed toward the Huey.
However, she did not count on Gibson. He dragged himself from his stupor and saw his enemies preparing to get away. He could not allow that.
"Cressida!" Jeremiah cried. "Look out!"
Cressida did not have the time to react as Gibson fired a single shot from his 1911 that hit her in the upper back. She fell to the arena floor. Jeremiah jumped from the Huey and scooped her up in his arms.
"No, Cressida, not this way," Jeremiah said as tears came to his eyes.
Blood began gurgling from her mouth. "I am so sorry, Jeremiah, my love..."
"You've taken to calling me Jeremiah!"
"It... it's your name. I am glad... I am glad to have known Malek, but even more glad to have known you, Jeremiah..."
Her eyes slowly closed, then they opened one more time. It was not pain Jeremiah saw in those eyes, but abject horror.
"He wants you back, Jeremiah! He's coming for you! He is coming!"
"Who is coming for me, Cressida? What do you mean?"
Cressida's eyes closed once more as her life ended. Jeremiah dropped her limp body to the arena floor. He could not hear the multiple shouts for him to get into the chopper. He focused on one thing and one thing only.
Gibson. Gibson, who was trying to pull the trigger on his .45, but to no avail.
"What the fuck is wrong with this thing?" He asked no one in particular. He then looked at the pistol's ejection port. "Ah, failure to eject. I must have limp wristed the bitch."
Jeremiah's burning anger began to inform the vampire within. He wanted blood, and he would have it.
"No!" Scott cried. "You're under direct sunlight! Jeremiah, you don't want to do this! Come on!"
"Oh, go ahead, Jeremiah," Gibson said. "Let it out. Show the world what kind of beast you are, and, in the process, cause your own death."
"Jeremiah! Don't listen to him! Please!"
"Oh, I know what you want, vampire. You want blood. Come and take it."
"No, Jeremiah, it isn't worth it. Please. We still need you. I still need you!"
"Don't listen to reason, vampire! Listen to your desire for vengeance!"
"Jeremiah, you turned from that life long ago, remember? This isn't you. This isn't you!"
"Of course it's you, vampire. You know it."
Jeremiah blinked. Slowly, the vampire retreated as he felt the burning heat of the sun on his skin.
"No," He said. "It is not me, not anymore. I will not give in. Let us go, Scott."
Jeremiah turned and got into the Huey as it began to lift away.
"Well, that sucks," Gibson said. "In any case, it's easily enough remedied."
Gibson worked the slide of his pistol, clearing the jam and chambering another round. Elizabeth intended to sweep Gibson with fire from the M60, but she had just run out of ammo and needed to reload.
"Ah, fuck that guy," She said, as she grabbed a hand grenade from her vest, pulled the pin, and flung it right at Gibson. "Hey, Yahoo Serious! Have a pineapple!"
"Oh shit!" Gibson cried as he tried to jump out of the way. Elizabeth threw the grenade with both accuracy and distance. There was no way Gibson could escape as the blast of the grenade blew him across the arena floor. The chopper cleared the ground, allowing them to escape the blast. Elizabeth did not make time for self-congratulation as she reloaded the M60 and started firing once more.
Jeremiah sat, looking out the open door of the Huey. Scott put his hand on Jeremiah's back.
"I'm so sorry," Scott said.
"As am I," Jeremiah responded.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Jeremiah?"
"No. There is nothing. The pain I feel is no less than I deserve. Surely it must be part of my penance."
"No. It's part of being human."
"Human. Perhaps... perhaps I should be glad for that. But I do not feel it. No, I do not feel it."
"If there's anything I can do for you, Jeremiah, just know that I'm here for you, okay?"
"Thank you, my friend."
As they flew over the villa, Elizabeth called to Grace. "Hey! Pass me that satchel by your feet."
"Sure thing," Grace said as she handed the satchel to Elizabeth. "It's kinda heavy. What's in it?"
"About 10 pounds of C4."
"Uh, oh. Okay..."
Elizabeth took the satchel and pulled a cord, igniting a fuse. She then dropped the satchel on to the already heavily damaged villa. "Don't worry guys," She said, "there is a delay. Hey," Elizabeth looked down at the vehicles parked outside the gates of the villa. Some of the Suburbans were damaged by machine gun fire and rockets, but there was one vehicle missing. "Wasn't there a stretch limo there?" She asked. "There was! Follow those tracks, Raton! They veer off to the east!"
"Look, lady," Raton said, "We're running short of fuel. I think a bullet may have hit the tanks. Plus we got all this extra weight now. I can't be flying all over hell with that!"
"Fine," Elizabeth huffed. "It looks like Jack got away, then."
"Sorry, Elizabeth," Scott said. "Well, on the bright side, you got me!"
"Yeah, right. Bright side."
As the Huey started to make its way back to Chihuahua, the satchel charge exploded, causing the remains of the villa to collapse into rubble.
"Wow," Scott said. "Very impressive!"
"Hey, Scott," Doug said, "If I didn't say it before, thank you. Thanks for coming to my rescue. You're a great brother, even if you're a vampire."
Scott took Doug's hand. "No need for thanks, Doug. We're brothers. That's what we do."
"And you saved the day yet again," Dawn said.
"Well, I had some help."
Scott and Dawn then kissed, gently but deeply.
"Oh god," Elizabeth said, "are they making out again?"
"They're young and in love," Doug said. "Okay, she's young and in love."
"Shut up," Scott told his brother. "By the way, Dawn, we never did decide on a honeymoon destination!"
"No, we didn't," she responded. "Do you have an idea now?"
"Yeah, I do!"
"Wait. It's not in Mexico, is it?"
"Uh, well, okay, I don't have an idea, after all."
Jeremiah remained silent, looking out the door of the Huey at the sparse beauty of the Mexican desert. A single tear fell from his eye.
*
The sun was low in the sky, casting a dull orange glow over the desert sands as it declined into the west. The stretched Hummer sat in the shadows of the old mission as those shadows grew long. The driver had attempted to conceal it from aerial view as best as he could, but Don Calderon was not quite confident.
"Do you hear them?" Calderon asked. "That helicopter. Do you hear it?"
"No, Don Calderon," Jack said. "I ain't heard it for a while. I really do think we're safe now."
"But that big explosion you heard!" Torres cried. "What was that?"
"I don't know. All I know is it wasn't us."
"Well, then," Calderon said, "it seems we have survived! And now, I have a new Santa Muerte!"
"What about the Aussie?" Jack asked. "Are we gonna try to rescue him, or is his shrimp on the barbie, so to speak?"
"Who cares? Fuck him. Mescal, Jack?"
Calderon took a bottle from the mini fridge. He poured some glasses for himself, Jack, Torres, and the bodyguard who accompanied them.
"Here's to a new business relationship!" Calderon said. "Salud!"
Glasses clinked, and the men drank. "I haven't had mescal in years," Jack said.
"Oh, you will have all the mescal you want!"
"I am liking this arrangement!"
"Excellent. Then I am sure you are ready for your first assignment, no?"
"Lay it on me!"
"Good. First, I want you to find the son of a bitch who flew that helicopter and kill him."
"Okay. It shouldn't be too hard to track down the owner of a helicopter gunship. What next?"
"Well, then, I want you to kill Douglas Campbell. He still owes me!"
"Doug Campbell. Got it."
"And then I want you to kill Scott Campbell. Since you are both vampires, I am sure this will not be difficult for you. Then I want you to kill his family and friends. I want you kill anyone associated with Scott Campbell. Oh, maybe all that is not necessary. What is necessary is that Scott Campbell must die."
Jack looked at the shot glass, as though he were trying to get a reading from the remaining drops of mescal. "Scott Campbell."
"Yes. Scott Campbell must die."
"I see. Well, Don Calderon, that doesn't really work for me."
"Huh? Why does this not work for you?"
"Because I don't want to kill Scott Campbell."
"Why is this? And why do I care? It doesn't matter. This is the job you signed on for, Jack. You said you would kill anyone for me. It is simple. Kill Scott Campbell."
"Oh, I don't think I will."
"But we had an agreement!"
"That agreement has been altered."
"How?"
Jack reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the remote control for the shock collars he had been wearing – which, by the way, he was no longer wearing, unnoticed by Calderon or anyone else. "This is how."
Don Calderon began going through his pockets as sweat started beading on his brow.
"Oh, now, Don," Jack said. "This is it. Right here. You ain't gonna find a second one. And by the way, I've turned it off."
"How did you do this?"
"When I pulled you out of that bullring, you were far too preoccupied to notice little ol' Jack going through your pockets. It's an old pickpocket strategy, which works even better for vampires. And I am, after all, a vampire."
Calderon looked to Torres. If Calderon was now feeling fear, Torres was feeling it double. Torres attempted to open the door of the stretched Hummer, but was far too slow. Jack's fangs came out and he bit into Torres' carotid. The arterial spray hit Calderon in the face. Calderon's bodyguard drew his Glock and shot Jack multiple times, but since the bullets were not warheads they had no effect. Soon, the entire passenger compartment of the limousine was awash in blood.
The last to die was the chauffeur. He tried to run. He never made it beyond the shadows of the old mission.