Snippet 4!

Okay, going to realease what I have left to post so you guys can see the best part incorporating what I had written in Sarah's Diner.

Ralph thought back twelve years to when he was invited into the family. He had been a small time Private 'Dick' back then, who seemed to have a knack at finding clues and pieces of evidence no one else seemed able to find. He also had an instinct that made him an asset. So the Army said when he tried to leave after six years. They always had him investigating for courts marshall and base murder investigations. Then he found evidence of a cover up so monumentally horrid the Army had the President himself order him never to speak of it ever again. Invoking some clause in his contract and security clearence that would throw him into a hole deep, somewhere nasty, and then throw away the key, and be forgotten about. 'Cease to exist.' He had said. On a personal and nasty level that alone pissed him off. Ralph was very glad he had no family left alive for them to threaten with. Well, maybe his new family of twelve years.

“So how'd the reports go?” Ralph picked up his coffee and took a swig. 'Still warm. Good.'

“Usual. Good thing you found that item. I think it might break these cases wide open. Heaven knows we can't seem to catch a crack on any of 'em.”

“Break.”

“What?” Torg's left eyebrow went up then he creased his forehead in confusion.

“Break. Catch a break. You dimwit 'roo brain.” Ralph really had to sit this man down sometime.

“Yeah, that's what I said.”

“No, you said..oh forget it. Cathe said you still owe her fifty and she'll get Jonathan on it.” Ralph turned his own chair around and sat down. Relaxing as the chair molded perfectly and eased his back.

“She's a cheat. She knows it. ESP mind games I tell you.” Torg was right about Cathe, but he couldn't blame her for using it. No one knew how she knew, but she did and that was good enough for Torg.

“Then don't play her at poker.” He scolded. “She'll beat you every time. I know first hand. Took me two years to figure it out for myself.

“Good point, mate. Good point.”

It was late the next day when the results came back. Jonathan had stopped by and, as usual, had been is solemn and serious self. Most of the stuff came back negative for anything unusual. However, the 'feather' was not traceable under normal circumstances so it was sent off to the Department of Ornithology at Ball State University. They had promised a quick response.

“So what do we know so far?” Chief Sanderson asked seriously. She was a solid boss as bosses go. Red headed spitfire, constantly riding their butts for results, but it was good to make it a point to keep them on their toes.

“Well, we know there have been ten incidents verifiable by the same modus operandi. Evening attacks between sunset and 2200 hrs. Either an open window or door, a few smashed screens or windows. All victims drained of blood via tiny needle like objects. At least we suspect that was the cause of death, blood loss.” Torg finished up his synopsis.

“Hmm...” Cedar creased her eyebrows together. “Toxicology?”

“Normal according to Jonathan. Nothing but that feather we found at the Donaldson place.” Ralph added.

“Anything back from Ball State?”

“Nothing yet. But hopefully soon.” Torg replied.

Ralph's desk phone chimed. “Laurens.” He answered. “Uh-huh. Yeah.” His eyes looked strange as he thanked the other end and hung up.

“Well?” Cedar demnded.

“Humingbird.”

“'Escuse me?” Torg burted out. “Hummingbirds? Well that was a waste.”

“What else?”

Ralph looked at the phone a second. “It's not native to North America. It's an extremely rare species only known a the 'Martin, Scarlet Throated Saphire' Humming bird.” He looked at Cedar. “It's been extinct for almost ninety five years.”

“So we have an extinct rare bird feather, found at a crime scene we are having trouble with, and we are no closer to finding out what's going on? Right. Follow up on all experts on hummingbirds. Get some help from the pool.” By pool she meant the newbies. The freshly hired batch of rookies needed to keep the place running.

“Yes, Ma'am. We'll get 'em on it.” Torg reached over and hit the intercom for the back office manager.

Cedar stood up from the chair in front of the duo's desk. “I'll leave you two at it. Get back with me by Friday morning.”, and with that she was off to the next set of desks and the next team. Ralph didn't envy her.

“CORE.” The voice on the other end stated. CORE stood for Cartage Obfuscation Rework and Education office. Hard to believe everyone started in the CORE office.

“Brad, we need you to get some people on research for the Donaldson case, ASAP. Sending the details via email now. Special priority from the Boss.” Torg hit the send key and the information went off to the CORE office.

“Got it. Will have some people on it shortly.” Brad replied and hung up.

“Might as well get some lunch. We missed the rush so Joseph's should be pretty clear.” Joseph's was Ralph's favorite. He just had to have that Kobe beef. The finest around and aged to perfection.

“Sounds good to me, mate. Usual?”

“Sure. You need to pay this time though. I used up my allotment for expenses.” Ralph told Torg with a cheeky grin.

“As usual. You love that tucker too much, ya glutton.” Torg teased again.

Joseph's wasn't too busy as the pair entered the the courtyard gate and chose a nearby table with a great view of the fountain in the center. The waitress was dressed business casual and Torg admired her figure as she walked away and through the kitchen entrance to place their orders.

“Love American Sheila's.” Torg smiled at Ralph with a crinkled nose.

“Hey, remember your manners. This place is upscale dining and the Chef here can turn you into a pretzel. No matter your special training. He's got you by a hundred pounds and he's all muscled former Marine. So don't play stare at the eye candy.”

“Can't help myself. Your girls dont fight back when I smooch 'em. In fact they adore me.”

“Like Lucy?” reminded Ralph.

“That wasn't right. How was I t'know about her Tae Kwon Do background and Baptist upbringing?”

“Uh-Huh. Like Tracy or Linda?”

“All misunderstandings, I assure you.” Torg felt chagrinned. Maybe his luck with the ladies wasn't that great after all. But still...Lucy had been worth it. He stole a kiss from her lips and ended up on the ground with his air knocked out of him and wondering what Lorrie had hit him. Painful. But so worth it.

The drinks came around and Ralph chose a loacl beer. Torg had his new favorite, an Iced Long Island Tea. The usual home made bread and honey butter for appitizer and then the cheeses. All excellent faire. When the steaks arrived sizzling on the large plates the smell drove their noses insane and the steak drove taste buds wild. Such tender, succulent meat was paradise. Ralph dove in and devoured his large sirloin as Torg consumed his fillet with abandon. The seasonal vegetables were perfect as usual. The butter infused desserts afterward, devine.

“It's about two, better head back before CORE beats us to the answers.” Ralph said as he shoved back the chair. “Hope they find more info about those birds.”

“I think I might die happy. Promise me you bury me here so I can always smell what's cookin?”

“Come on Dundee, time to go so pay the man.”

After using the company card, Ralph and Torg walked the two small blocks bsck to the HQ. Again went through security and found two rookies waiting at the desks. They looked young but capable. One was a young lady. Brunette. Short but cute. Maybe hundred and ten soaking wet. The other a tall man, maybe six two, a bit heavy at maybe two thirty or forty. Blonde hair back in a short ponytail.

“Okay rooks, what you got?” Torg snapped. All newbs got the same treatment. Just the facts.

“Plenty.” The tall man replied. “The species of Humming birds your feather belonged to was supposed to have died out about 1925ish. Some type of specific bird plague supposedly wiped them out. Evidently they are very much alive.” He cleared his throat. In other news, there have been related reports recently throughout Arizona, specifically around Pheonix, about a plague of some sort. Homeless, illegals, many others dying from a mysterious disease. Nothing confirming blood loss, yet. Most of the bodies were so decomposed it is improbable to tell cause of death according to the coroner's offices down there.”

“That's not all.” The Brunette spoke up with confidence in her voice. “The feather we pulled from the crime scene was fresh. So, the lab did a blood analysis on the tip of the lost feather and found that the bird was extremely anemic. To the point of almost no red blood cells, anemia. Iron is nonexistent. Calcium and Magnesium levels were way off even for birds. The DNA? It's, uhm...dynamic...ever changing.” “Changing? How's the DNA changing?” Torg asked while sipping another cup of coffee he had liberated from the fresh brewed pot.

“It mutated as they were running the tests. It morphed in the machines as they were multiplying the chromosomes. Totally weirded them out.” The tall rookie answered.

“Shit! Vampire Hummingbirds. Dynamic DNA. What the hell?” Ralph exclaimed while throwing up his hands in emphasis. Part of his mother's Italian heritage passed on to him.

“No wonder the blood was missing. There had to be hundreds, even thousands of them to suck those bodies dry.” The brunette responded with a gasp of realization. “We'll check with SPARTAN to see if any other organizational entities have found anything else.” She looked at Ralph. “Shall we call the ball on this, Sir?”

“Not just yet. I'll tell the Boss. So we'll get going on that and tell us if you find more info.”

“Sir?” the young man asked to get Ralph's attention. “We left a list on your desk here about Humming bird experts who have dealt with this particular breed. But only two remain alive. A Doctor Stanley who is retired in Nova Scotia, he's one hundred and ten years old, and Professor Calvert in New Mexico. Hes' not as old but still teaches Botany at New Mexico Central University at last report.”

“Good job you two. You earned that dollar twenty five. Better get going on any other possible leads.” The two rookies rushed off as Torg and Ralph made their way to the Boss' office.

They found Chief Investigator, Cedar Sandusky, typing away at her terminal as they knocked on her door frame. She stopped what she was doing and turned to greet them.

“Come on in. Any news on the case?” She asked while signing some paperwork.

Torg and Ralph filled her in on the up to date information and their concerns about what the birds meant. She wasn't happy. If she had to call the ball, this meant that teams of 'Hunting' parties, contracted out for such a purpose, would have to be notified with all of the pertinent data about the infestation. Of Vampire Humming birds, no less. Not the oddest she had ever called but damned close.

“I want you two to go to Canada and find that retired professor. Get everything out of him you can. Document everything. Get it back to HQ as fast as you can. If we do have an outbreak we need to call it, find the hive, and have it destroyed.”

“Yes, Ma'am. Can we take the 'Goose' for a spin?” Torg hinted at flying the new G-12 business jet.

“Very well.” She couldn't say no to the Aussie and he knew it. “Just don't forget to file a flight plan and be in the air by 1800 hours.”

“Aye, aye. Boss.” Torg snapped to attention then he and Ralph turned and left at the sound of clicking keys. They collected their data on the way out after filing a flight plan to Nova Scotia using the International Authorization of Travel per prearranged codes.

The flight out of Fort Wayne international was uneventful. The new G-12 was the lastest model of the G line of corporate jets. Crazy expensive but worth every cent. With secure satellite gear and an array of sensors and computer systems on board, any investigative team could handle most situations.

After a few hours of flight and a few updates from HQ the plane landed at the prearranged Canadian government airbase. Both Torg and Ralph met the Base Commander as they disembarked the plane. No welcoming committee but the worried look on the Commander's face was telling. This man had no clue. No one had told him squat about their visit. Just that these gentlemen were coming and to give them full cooperation. Which meant escorting them to wherever they needed to go.

“Welcome to Gerard Airbase, Gentlemen.” The Colonel shook both of their hands. “No one told me who you were or why you were coming. Care to inform me of why I'm standing here after midnight hour welcoming you to my base?”

“Sorry, Colonel. Need to know and all that.” Torg informed the man.

“Australian is it?” The Colonel tried to pry using a friendly question.

“Colonel, we're tired and we have a long drive ahead of us. So if you don't mind we need conveyance and a driver.” Ralph presented the Colonel with a Special Investigations Interpol ID Card with a specific code marked in the front.

The Colonel nearly broke his back as he ramrodded straight as a board and saluted. He quickly turned and barked orders as his staff scrambled to get the nearby SUV and a Sergent handy as a driver. The young Sergent quickly opened the doors as Ralph and Torg entered the SUV and buckled up. The driver jumped in the front, buckled himself in and took off like a shot toward the road that would lead them off of the flightline, down a main road, then through a gate and off the base.

“Sergent, my name is Inspector Leo and this is Inspector Ares as far as you are concerned. Anything you hear or experience is at the highest security level possible. You never heard or saw anything. Period. In fact we were never here and you never left your base. Understand?” Torg gave the usual speech.

“Yes, Sir. I understand.” the Sergent reached inside his shirt pocket and showed his own special ID. “However, I am Inspector Hades with CCID. I was given the assignment this evening when you filed the codes. The Colonel wasn't pleased being out of the loop.”

“We understand that as well sometimes, Inspector.” Torg replied with a smile.

“I need the destination if you don't mind. Paperwork and all that.” Hades asked.

“We're looking for Doctor Stanley, he's retired at this address.” Ralph handed Hades the paperwork.

Hades glanced at it and turned East once they were clear of the gate. “No problem. Should be there in an hour or so.”

The rest of the trip was spent going over the shared data between Canada and the US investigations. Canada had not experienced any issues with Humming birds or mysterious deaths with pincushion victims. Upon arrival at the small house on the outskirts of some unpronounceable native language named town, the Inspectors expected the man to be home this late at night. They were assured by his daughter that he was down at the local pub called 'The Hardt Life'. Evidently he was part owner and tonight was his night to close up. It was a short five minute drive and at three am not much was stirring.

Torg opened the door and yelled inside, “Anybody here? Doc Stanley?” A grumbling rebuke came from the back as an elderly gentleman holding a shotgun at the low ready stated clearly that they were closed. “Sorry to bother you, Sir. We're here to talk to you about something very important.”

“It's three in the bloody morning! I'm tired and it's been a long night. So good day to you, sir!” He replied.

“Sir, we need...” Ralph started to speak but the old man was quick to raise the shotgun up to aim at both Torg, Ralph, and the Sergent behind. Backing them up and out the door.

“I said, good day!” He slammed the door shut and locked the bolts to the steel security door.

“Mr. Stanley, we're here about Humming Birds!” Ralph yelled.

They heard silence. Then a question, “Humming birds? What kind of birds?” Stanley asked carefully. His voice muffled by the door.

“Martin Scarlet Throated Blue Sapphire.” Ralph recalled from memory offhand.

There was a very long pause. A set of clicks as the door was unlatched and then it opened to a pale faced man who seemed to have aged another hundred years. The man was over 110 for criminy's sake! They entered the darkened pub and were led to a small table at the end of the bar that had cleaned glasses stacked along one side.

“You said something about those birds?” Dr. Stanley said as he seated his ancient body on the chair.

“Yes, Sir. We need to know anything you could tell us about them. It is of utmost importance to us.” Torg replied.

The man seemed to sink a bit in thought. The face grew calm. But his eyes seemed to wonder back in time. “Hummingbirds...terribly fierce beasties, if I recall correctly. And I do. Fast, agile fliers with very long, needle sharp beaks. Can poke your eye out quick as a wink!” He embellished with a quick stabbing action using his forefingers. “I remember the Hummingbird Rebellion of 1924 at the Exotic Flower Show in London. Horrible event!” Stanley shook is head slowly. “Started when someone decided it would be a brilliant idea to release some three hundred South American Blood Throats, your Martin Scarlet Throated Sapphire you mentioned. The name was debatable back then since it's discovery was in dispute by two Ornithologists. Both deceased now I believe. They were to be used as an embellishment to the gathering. Thousands of Ornithologists, Horticulturists, PHD's in Gardening, and the like. The whole lot suffered severe eye, ear, and skin damage as the little monsters swarmed the crowds and took no quarter!” He heaved a great sigh then continued. Tears starting to flow down is cheeks. “It took the Royal Marines twelve hours to capture the menagerie of blood soaked birds.” his voice straining and cracking under the strain of remembering the horror. “Some were so drunk on the destruction they had to be euthanized on the spot.”

“What happened to the other birds?” Hades asked.

“The rest were turned over to the Academy of Arcane Sciences to discover why it happened. It still gives me nightmares and my PTSD acts up occasionally if hear buzzing or whizzing noises. Even today it sets off my triggers and a panic attack comes on suddenly.” The man was visibly shaken.

The old Doctor of Ornithology went on for another hour about the details of the birds and the circumstances surrounding the attack. What was done and who was involved. Some dozens of people had died and many others severely injured. Many loosing eyesight and hearing. Some lost limbs from the shear amount of blood that had been removed so suddenly that veins collapsed. Arteries were swiss cheesed by the eager beaks sinking in to gorge themselves on hemoglobin rich blood. The descriptions were grizzly and detailed. Vivid tales of what happened afterwards led them to understand that the Academy Of Arcane Sciences, now MI-15, had to have more information. Evidently there was now another active colony and it had to be growing.

Back home at HQ the next day, Ralph and Torg learned MI-15 was an utter disappointment. All of the contacts that had been made in the past had been reassigned very recently to other departments or quickly retired. Even the new people they were dealing with were either limited or couldn't access the information. Over and over the answers eluded their grasp. It was time to take this to the next level.

“Sorry, Boss.” Torg put the data drive on her desk containing all of the information and testimony about the birds. “They're vampiric bastages. Utterly fearless. Can drain a body in under a few minutes when swarming.” Torg, dressed in his usual khaki pants and company polo, had turned away to look out into the common work area after laying the drive down. His demeanor was grim.

“I see.” Cedar admired the view for a few seconds before picking up the drive and plugging it into the secured data port. Moments later the drive was scanned and decrypted. The data popped up as a local drive and she accessed the files. The information confirmed the status of the bizzare Humming birds behavior. She made the call. “Initiate Quarantine. Notify the Bureau and Contractors. See if we can nip this in the bud.” She sent the data off to Requisitions and Planning. She closed the files and removed them from the drive to the database. A click later and the portable drive fried itself out. She removed the device and dropped it into the portable incinerator box. A quick zap and it was gone. The smell of ozone permeated the air.

“I still think we should follow up with the professor in New Mexico.” Ralph pointed out.

“No need.” She replied. “The team we sent to New Mexico, while you were away playing in Canada, found Professor Calvert and his wife dead in their bed. No sign of struggle. Completely drained.” Cedar closed her eyes a moment. The images taken were flashing before her eyes. A sequence of death she'd rather forget. But it was her job to be strong for everyone here and remember the goal of the company. 'Seek. Find. Destroy.'

“Birds?” Torg almost didn't have to confirm it.

“Birds.” Cedar said coldly. “Get with the other team and find the source. Pass that along so the intelligence can get where it will do most good. In the hands of those hunting who will need it.”

Torg and Ralph left her office. The rest of the rookies filled them in on the couple dying a very bad death along with the reports of two more attacks from further north of the Donaldson residence. It was getting more frequent. They had to find the home where the swarm was going to ground.

DARK

Hundreds of thousands of extremely agile, fast, furiously hungry darts of murder flew by the woman in dark green attire. Melinda Ann Two-Foxes was dark skinned, raven haired, black eyed, and extremely beautiful. She was a testament to natural attributes any woman in the world would be proud of and actually consider herself desire personified. Though the outside was gorgeous her soul was dark hatred. A smile crossed her cute face turning into an evil grin. Her little minions were growing and reproducing at unheard of levels. New batches of offspring every week for over a year. This supplied some forty thousand death spikes she could wield against the the deniers of man's corruption to the Earth Mother. Her plans were simple. Make the betrayers of Earth pay for their stupidity. Thousands died supplying her fiends with enough blood to breed her army.

She had just arrived in the United States not more than three months ago. The city of Pheonix, Arizona was just a short stop for needed feedings. A bunch of homeless, a few residents, a lot of illegals out in the desert, and the deed was done. Then they moved on to New Mexico. Plague they had called it on the news. A few hundred at most the tv media said. 'Stay indoors and seek medical attention.' Melinda laughed as the birds settled in for the day. The huge underground cartage house they now inhabited near Terre Haute, Indiana had been a perfect place to stay. The temperature was controlled and the place remote enough not to arouse suspicion. Besides, she had done her homework well. Josepheus Buckley, the owner Terre Haute Staging and Cartage House Inc., was a lonely and single man. No family to speak of, middle aged, looking for that desperate love of his life. He was a bit portly but not at all unattractive. Melinda had been stringing him along for a few weeks now. Joe was totally in love with her.

Such a sap. He loved her for being flirty. He loved that she cooked and cleaned. He loved that she wore barely anything when they went out to the local bars and eating places. Joe's buddies, their eyes bugged out at her perfect figure, would fall all over themselves helping her out. Their wives and girlfriends totally jealous of the beauty she possessed and not afraid to say so.