Ten years ago
Timmault was not the oldest he had ever been, but he was getting close. At 56, his right knee ached every time he put weight on it. He suspected that he would only make it worse that night. He stood alone at the edge of the ramp of a C-130. Twenty thousand feet below, street lights lit Berlin like yellow veins throughout.
His headset muffled the intense roar of the aircraft, and for a moment, Timmault managed to feel at peace.
A voice clicked into his headset.
“T-minus 90 seconds, sir.”
“Copy that . . .” what was the pilot’s name? He couldn’t remember. “Copy,” he repeated. He gave up on any semblance of a relationship with any of the wardens a long time ago. He didn’t see a point.
Except for Ben, whose voice clicked into his headset. “Can I appeal to your sense of reason?”
“You cannot,” Timmault said smugly, clicking his headset off. He reached his hand through the opening at the side of the ramp to feel the wind against his skin.
A hand grabbed his inner arm and pulled him back up the ramp. Ben stood at the top, clinging tightly to a handle.
Timmault begrudgingly clicked his headset back on. “We’ve been over this, Ben. This is the only chance I’ll get.”
“But this isn’t how we do things, Timmault.” Ben’s legs shook underneath him. He was terrified of heights. “The intel doesn’t pass the smell test.”
“Come now, Ben,” Timmault smiled. “You have somewhere better to be?”
“T-minus 30 seconds.”
Ben pressed his back against the interior of the plane. “As a matter of fact, I do. My granddaughter graduated today. I’m supposed to call her.”
“Tess graduated high school?” Timmault asked. “I forgot how old you are.”
“You’re one to talk,” Ben said. He looked down at his feet and back up at Timmault. “This is rushed. We’re ill-equipped. Underprepared. We haven’t verified the intel.”
Timmault walked across the ramp to Ben, ignoring his throbbing knee. “They broke edict, Ben. All four house leaders are under the same roof for the first time in a thousand years. I can end this. Once and for all.”
Ben shook his head. “What if you don’t, Timmault? If you fail, they’ll be more powerful than ever. We can not afford to lose another ten years.”
Timmault reached for Ben’s belt and pulled a crudely carved stake from a holster. “Why do you carry this, Ben?”
Ben hesitated. “To kill vampires,” he relented.
“And why did you join the order?”
“Times up! Times up! Drop zone! Drop zone!”
“To help you kill a lot of vampires.”
Timmault pressed the stake against Ben’s chest until he took it back. “Thank you, Ben.”
Timmault took two steps backward down the ramp and pulled goggles over his eyes before turning around and jumping from the aircraft.
He plummeted through the Berlin night. He maneuvered to a belly-to-earth position before calibrating his fall toward his target. He reached speeds over 100 miles per hour, and the ground was coming quickly. The wind pressed against his face, pushing his cheeks back. Timmault locked onto the ExpoCenter and adjusted his trajectory accordingly when something whizzed past him, smacking against his leg and sending him spiraling.
He fought the urge to panic and spread his arms at his sides to steady himself.
“What the hell was that?” he yelled. He looked at the sky around him but couldn’t see what had hit him.
His headset clicked on.
“We’re under attack! Timmault, they’re in the air!”
Something crashed into him again. This time, it came from above. It hit him so violently that it took Timmault a minute to realize that whatever it was ripped through his parachute. He pulled the cord, but only a ribbon unfurled from the pack and nothing else. The chute was destroyed.
It was a trap.
Timmault rolled so that he fell with his back toward the ground. He looked through the sky above him. Finally, high above him, he spotted something hovering in place. Not something, he realized. Someone.
It was over. Timmault yelled into his headset. “Coordinates, pilot. Now!”
“Right, erm. Hold on!”
“Now, pilot. Time’s up!”
“Okay, okay, okay. Coordinates. Right. Latitude: 40.0536. Longitude: -75.0628. I repeat -”
“I got it. I got it. 40.0536, -75.0628. Copy. Ben, you there?”
“Timmault!” Ben yelled. “I’m here!”
“Ben! You were right! I’m sorry you missed Tess’s graduation because of this.”
The vampire that hovered above him started to move toward the C-130. Slowly at first, and then faster.
“Oh no,” Timmault whispered.
The vampire reached the plane. Right before Timmault’s head splattered against the Berlin street, he watched the plane explode in a fiery blaze.
And then Timmault hit the ground. And he was dead.
To Be Continued . . .
Check out Episode two: Becky’s Castle.
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