Beatrice rose, turned and started toward the SUV, noticing the driver had exited and was headed her way. “Stars and garters…look at you! Guess those tiny balls of yours finally dropped out from underneath your tallywacker.”
He looked clumsily at her. “Ma’am?”
“Sorry,” she tittered, “it’s a colloquialism…an idiolect, a figure of speech. A way of pointin’ out you gettin’ over your…fear of the unknown.”
He looked even more clumsily at her. “Fear of the—ma’am, I’m not sure what you mean. I’m only doing my job. And a big part of that job is being vigilant…focusing on and establishing scene safety.”
“Oh, stick it where the sun don’t shine. This scene is plenty safe.” Beatrice held a hand up and smirked. “I’m just giving you hell—though I probably shouldn’t. You’re coming across to me as the…rare diligent type. I take it, as such, you called this in like a good little meticulous subordinate?”
“Yeah…I-I mean, yes, ma’am. I just got off the horn.” The driver’s stare revisited the bloody scene. “A response team is en route along with EMS in case anyone needs medical attention.”
“Medical attention?” Beatrice chuckled. “Sweetie, are you blind? Stupid? Or both?” She gestured behind her. “See all that red back there on top of the snow? That’s blood. And those chunks of whatnot all over the ground? That’s a hodgepodge of muscles and organs—once vital human muscles and organs—some of them hearts. And not a dang one of ’em is beatin’.”
“You—you’re sure of that?”
“Hon, no one here’s been left alive—you can, of course, check for yourself, but you should probably take my word for it.” She turned away from him, frowning. “And while you’re at it, terminate the response team and flush the EMS. All we’re in need of here is a cleanup crew, some janitors…and oodles of body bags.”
The driver nodded, looking helpless and dumbfounded. He went to turn away but caught sight of the holes peppering the MRAPs’ exteriors and pointed. “I thought Cougars were armored. What could’ve caused that level of damage to them? Aircraft?”
“The first two letters in the MRAP abridgement stand for ‘mine resistant’ and mean exactly that: resistant to mines. Their reinforcements exist all over but are focused primarily on the undercarriage; and that doesn’t do much against armor-piercing incendiary rounds spewed forth from a smokin’ barrel at twenty-nine hundred feet per second.”
“I…understand that,” the driver said mid-gulp. “It’s just that…I guess I’m just having a hard time putting all this together. I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.”
“You and a lot of folks, I reckon,” Beatrice lamented, “regrettably though, I have.” She gestured at the SUV. “Go on, now. Make the call.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Observing his hurried departure for a few seconds only, Beatrice reached into her coat pockets and removed a flip phone and a pack of cigarettes, then went about lighting one while punching in a number. She then placed the phone to her ear. “Mornin’. This is Deputy Director Carter. Wake the RPA crew and gas the eagle. I need a recon flyby toot sweet. I mean it, make it snappy, now.” She inhaled a deep drag and exhaled from her nostrils. “That’s right, initiate on my position and hold. I’ll advise a course in person.”
She ended the call and made another. “Hey there. Made it to the office yet?” A pause. “Why not? Well, pop a few of those li’l happy pills of yours and feel better, silly goose.” She huffed. “Yeah, I’m here. Survivors? Not a soul. What’s it look like? A plum mess…one big, cumbersome, sticky situation, just like I thought it would be. That’s why I’m callin’ you now and not delayin’ for later. Listen…you and I have ourselves a…problem to discuss. Yes, another one. Look, I’ll be there in twenty minutes or so; you can pitch a fit about it all you like then, okay? See you there.”
Chapter 2
DHS Shenandoah Outpost
Woodstock, Virginia
Thursday, January 6th
Beatrice glided into the reception area external to Doug Bronson’s office and shot Tori an evil eye. The regional commander’s young, typically perky assistant was seated casually at her desk, legs crossed, her head buried in a paperback novel.
Beatrice spared no time moving in for the kill, stopping inches before passing Tori’s desk. She rapped a set of freshly honed fingernails on the faded wood desktop and sent along a disapproving glare. “Mornin’, Tori. I see you are, once again, as usual, getting a whole bunch of diddly-squat accomplished today.”
Tori nervously lowered her book but didn’t say anything.
Beatrice set fire to an ultrathin cigarette. “Tell me somethin’…is it your intention to stay put in this department? Thereby remaining employed amongst its staff within the confines of this cozy li’l ole office…for the long term?”
Tori placed a bookmark between pages and set the novel down. “Y-yes, ma’am, it is, and I’m sorry. I swear…it isn’t me…I mean, I’m not going out of my way to be unproductive. It’s just that…there’s not much to do now an—”
Beatrice snapped her fingers. “It was a simple yes or no question, dear. Had my goal been for you to expound, I would have worded it thus.”
Tori nodded her understanding while her head sank.
“What sort of drivel has you so enthralled day in and day out?” Lips holding fast to her cigarette, Beatrice snatched Tori’s book and squinted at the jacket. “Charming cover. Very…up to the minute. Into which category does it fit? Dark, supernatural romance mumbo jumbo? Blood-suckin’ vampires with diamond skin, furry, salivatin’ werewolves and all
