1600 words more...
Okay, here is more on the story...close to teh end i think. Maybe not...we'll see.
Break
The jacked up four wheel drive pulled into the gravel parking lot of the storage facility and parked right in front of the climate controlled warehouse. A very lovely brunette hopped down and slammed the door shut. Torg took her picture using the tripod mounted digital camera setup. Ralph used the attached laptop to scan her face into the CODIS and NICS databases along with a request to INTERPOL and Scotland Yard Special Unit. The information took only a few minutes and the girl's face popped up on warrants from several South American countries. She was wanted for questioning in the death of several police and military personnel, robbery, some minor violations, and felonious escape and evasion. Mexico had several inquiries regarding her involvement in a few deaths, but no evidence was found and they hadn't caught her yet. Ralph finished reading as Torg finished saying something he hadn't heard.
“What was that?”
“She went into the building wearing some weird cloak or hoodie.” Torg repeated. “Don't know who she is but that's one hot lookin' Sheila.”
“Well her real name is Melledonia De Gerardo. Biochemist genius from about age fourteen. Finished college two years ago at the age of seventeen. Heavily involved in environmentalism. Belonged to a group called Del Norte Liberte. Some eco terror group that set fire to logging company equipment and spiking trees. She's been arrested at least a half dozen times. Turned to a Wiccan in jail. Heavy occult ties. Disappeared for a year in the Brazilian jungle. Popped up about eight months ago with a lot of influence and somehow involved in murdering prominent industrial figures.” Ralph scrolled some more.
“Ain't she the busy bee then, mate?” Torg's question was rhetorical. He wasn't expecting an answer, but got one anyway.
“One helluva busy bee!” Ralph emphasized. “Her primary thesis for her Masters was on Brazilian rare birds and their biochemical contributions to the environment!”
“The hummingbirds, I'll wager.”
“Bingo, Taz!” Ralph teased. Torg hated that damn cartoon character, so Ralph felt obligated to remind him of it.
“Well fuck me!” Torg cursed as he jumped off the camera and reached for the firearms bags.
Ralph looked through the camera and saw a thick cloud of weaving and wavering headed their way. “Shit!” Ralph grabbed the large cylinder with the pack belts on it. He cranked the charging valve all the way, opened the top valve, and lit the propane torch on the end of the fire wand after the last buckle clicked home.
Torg was already firing the Saiga automatic shotgun as fast as he could at the terrors approaching the pair. The beasts were only a hundred yards away and closing fast. Torg emptied the drum magazine as the birds were being blown to bits by the number six bird shot. He reloaded and began to spray the second barrage of lead into the birds as they swarmed around the truck. Ralph unleashed the hellfire from the Flamethrower. A cocktail of napalm like ingredients shot forty yards out and stuck to the vermin dragging them down. This cleared the vicinity for a short time as the birds backed off and took up a higher and safer orbit overhead. The sounds the evil creatures made was terrifyingly high. Like hunger mixed with pain and death. Ralph shot a second burst to keep them at bay. Torg loaded yet another drum mag and held his fire.
“What the bloody hell? You order squab for lunch?” The Aussie ex-pat spat in anger and fear. He wasn't going down without birds dying.
A lone figure approached them from fifty yards away. It was hot looking the brunette. She looked calm and as if nothing was going on. This pissed Torg off and made Ralph wary.
“You might as well give up.” The sultry voice floated into their ears and touched something deep inside them. “I am your Queen, now. Obey me. Die like men and I will reward you with eternal power.”
The voice. Her voice. It was as if sound had been made into velvet and slipped into his soul. Ralph could think or even breath. He tried to pull the trigger but couldn't move his hand. She was beautiful. No! She was evil! They had to destroy her! But her voice? It was angelic...demonic...it made him want to stay like this forever. “I...you...stop it.” He croaked as he felt his knees bending and his body lowering the flamethrower. His eyes heavy with desire. He was hers to command, and he couldn't do anything about it. Ralph saw Torg fighting it but to no avail. They were both doomed.
“Melinda?” Came a voice in the distance, calling the woman. “What they hell is going on here?” Joseph Buckley walked toward the woman and the birds flying thick overhead. The woman turned. Her eyes in shock as she yelled for Joe to run away. Her marking shot out fire and flew off her body to merge with the deadly flock. It took just a few seconds and the menagerie shot straight at Joe. He gasped as the birds closed on him and enveloped him. Melinda, Melledonia De Gardo, screamed and ran to Joe. She threw herself into the mix to save Joe somehow. She was too late. The birds in their hunger had painfully drained Joe in under ten seconds. It was ten seconds of blood curdling screams and thrashing about as every millimeter of his body was sucked dry of life. Melinda retched as the birds rapidly processed Joe and shit him out onto the ground around her. The smell alone would have made a werewolf spew his breakfast. What was left of Joseph lay in a heap of clothes, bones, loose skin, and an inch of solid bird droppings. Melinda wept bitterly for the man she had started to love. The striations melding in the flock of birds flashed and flared in anger at her insolence. They whipped her with energies and lashed out at her clothes stripping them from her body until she was bare. She felt every sting and and slash. Cried out in anger and frustration but the writhing mess continued until she was laying on the ground and passed out. The markings reappeared on her body and starting moving around covering her entire body. Melinda rose up lightly on her feet. Her eyes glowed ominously green. Her fingertips and markings fiery red and her hair a black abyss of beautiful death.
Ralph had watched all of this and tried to move. He was frozen. Like someone had stripped his will to move. Torg seemed no better. The black bitch was moving closer. All he hoped for was a monologue about the usual taking over the world and shit. But as the thing moved closer the first birds sank into his skin. The burning was intense and the pain unbelievable. He was going to die here and now. More pins pierced his back and shoulders. 'God, don't let me die like this!” Was his last thought when the world blew up.
The black bitch bit SUV bumper as Cedar nailed her from behind at about seventy five miles and hour. Somehow she managed to only kiss Torg and Ralph with the side of the vehicle. The black bitch was pulped and splattered all over the hood and grill. Cedar opened the door against the airbags and hauled out her PPSH-43c and sprayed thirty five rounds of 7.62mm by 25mm silver laced hollowpoint into the remaining body on the ground. The birds, in the confusion, fled back to the climate controlled warehouse. Ralph, now able to move again, ran to the open door at the back and emptied the content of the flamethrower into the building. Not one bird escaped the hellish carnage that Ralph's flames, backed up by his colorful words, issued upon the species of his hate. Torg lay on the ground bleeding profusely. Cedar applied all her first aid knowledge and skill. He would live, but it would be a while before any of them were in good shape. Cedar knew she should have put on her seat belt before slamming into that thing. Her neck and face would remind her for weeks.
Cedar stared at the now dead girl. The tattoos she had worn were gone. Not a trace. But even after she had been hit by the car and shot by Cedar, she had managed to crawl the few yards over to what was left of the gentleman and lay on what had been his chest, her face buried there. Cedar stared out at the returning Ralph. He was staggering like a drunk sailor on Saturday night. Somehow he made it and helped Cedar patch up Torg and himself.
“Damned birds.” Ralph said quietly, applying another up-tenth bandage to another bleeding pinhole. “Had to be vampiric. Just had to.”
“And the cavalry arrives.” Cedar pointed sorely at the vans and suvs pulling up the drive behind them as the fire trucks pulled into the storage parking lot and sprayed water onto the raging flames.
“You the scene commander?” A burly man in dark armor, clutching an AR rifle asked.
“Chief Sandusky.” She replied. “We had to improvise. Last minute.”
“Some improv! Hate to see what you guys do when the shit hits the fans?” He laughed as others with guns and some with medical gear started securing the area.
Cedar dreaded the report that was going to be made about this. “Thanks for the help.”
“No problem. But we get twenty five percent for support and response fees.”
“No problem. Just get us out of here.” Cedar passed out at that. Damned air bags.