The Beast Within (Book One of the Changes Series)
The Quiet Before the Storm (Part 19)

-Killian’s POV-

I took my seat at the crescent-shaped table in the briefing room and watched as everyone else took theirs. Even though the room looked as it always had, I couldn’t help but notice the difference in the room’s atmosphere. It was the day before our mission, and the air was teeming with apprehension. Or maybe that was just me.

The major entered the room with her usual heavily-starched uniform. Still, even she appeared slightly off today.

Dr. Chaplin had already gone through her instructions earlier in the day. Going over when to self-administer the LT4. Each dose was good for four hours, and we would all have five vials at our disposal. There shouldn’t be any reason to use more than the initial dose, but it was better to be over-prepared than under.

The second half was spent going through the potential side effects and what we should do if they occur. I found the last half a ridiculous waste of time. It was clear that Dr. Chaplin had spent most of her life in a lab and had no idea how to prepare a team for a field mission. I’d never stopped in the middle of a hot operation to check my pulse and respirations. I was pretty sure Garvey didn’t know what respiration meant, let alone how to check it.

We’re military plain and simple. You give us a task you need to be done, and we perform until it’s accomplished or we die trying. Still, I couldn’t blame her for not grasping that concept; it’s definitely not for everyone.

As the major continued her prep, rifling through her papers, I noticed McPherson kept his eyes trained on her. His leg had a nervous tremble to it.

I leaned over so as not to be overheard by anyone, “Hey, are you okay?”

It seemed as if I startled him out of deep thought. He tried to paste on a thin smile before answering me. “Yeah, I’m just ready to get going, you know? All this waiting is killing me.”

I nodded but didn’t buy his response for a second. McPherson was going through something. Still, a man’s thoughts were his own. I only hoped he was able to focus when it counted. He went back to watching the major, but I noticed he stayed mindful to keep his leg planted on the ground this time.

The fluorescent lighting dimmed as the screen descended from the ceiling, notifying that the briefing had officially started. All eyes that weren’t already on Hardaway quickly were.

“Good Afternoon, Mission Wolf’s Bane is a go at o-two hundred tomorrow morning. Your bird should reach your destination at approximately o-five hundred, and then it’s showtime. There isn’t any room for failure of any kind.” She paused, taking a moment to scan our faces. “The compound is around thirteen hundred klicks west of our present coordinates. Usually, a special reconnaissance mission would’ve been done first. However, due to the natural abilities of our targets, the-powers-that-be didn’t want to take the chance of alerting them of our presence before we were ready to strike.”

The screen behind the major came to life.

The major continued, “This is our objective people. As you can see on the wall behind me, the satellite transmissions show the facility is on around four acres of land, mostly covered by the building of interest. From the gauged heat signatures, it doesn’t appear to be running at full capacity. The locale is a very rural portion of Ballarat, California, to be exact. The facility itself is positioned on private property.”

The familiar click of the projector took my attention off of Hardaway and back to the screen. I studied the map in front of me. From the apparent area of our airdrop to the distance of our objective, it was evident that we would be using a High Altitude High Opening drop.

I glanced over at McPherson to see if he had put the puzzle together. He must have had military freefalling exercises in SEAL training. Though I doubted any of his teachings were during the darkest hours of the morning with nothing but a lighted wrist compass to guide him to his destination forty miles away. McPherson wasn’t the only one I worried about our team. I wasn’t knocking S.W.A.T. I had a hard time believing Washington had much reason for cross-country parachuting.

Hardaway’s voice broke into my thoughts, “We need to maintain the element of surprise. So the CV-22 Osprey will be airdropping Killian, Garvey, Hernandez, and Davis once it reaches sixty-four klicks away from your target. Deploy parachutes at twenty-seven thousand feet people, following the GPS signal thirty-eight miles to the designated area. Killian, you’re squad leader, so you take the lead on the jump.”

“What a joke,” Garvey murmured to Hernandez.

“Do you have a problem with my decision?” the major barked in Garvey’s direction.

“No, Major. Sorry, ma’am.” Garvey said, turning country beet red.

Hardaway focused back onto the team.

The major continued with the outline of the mission.

“The extraction plan will be initiated no later than one hour after the team touches ground. Hernandez, your objective will be to wire explosives at the exterior of the building. The specifics are in the packet in front of you. Killian and Garvey, you need to keep Davis secure. When you three reach the heart of the facility, I want Garvey to continue following Davis throughout her objectives. Killian, if Garvey doesn’t need your assistance, break away and set an explosive in the central hub of the building. You have the outline of your optional objective in here.” She handed me a manila envelope. “Washington and McPherson will stay with the aircraft. Washington, you will be an extra gun/helping hand if there are any injured to assist during extraction. McPherson, you will be stationed on the loading ramp’s M240 machine gun to provide cover for your teammates. By o-six hundred, the facility should be blown to hell, and you all should be on your way back to the base.” McPherson’s leg started fidgeting again; his mouth displayed a creased frown. I didn’t have to invade his thoughts to know he wasn’t thrilled with his B-Team status in the mission. Hardaway didn’t seem to notice, continuing her spiel, “There is one other meeting in the armory for the rundown of weapons and equipment needed for this mission. Afterward, your time is your own until o-two hundred when you will be suited up and ready.”

Hardaway glanced over the whole of the room, talking to all but focusing on none of us. “To serve as a reminder, we are not the only players in this game. We are, however, its future. Dismissed.”

Dr. Chaplin ran to the front of the room as we started gathering our things to leave.

“Wait, would everyone please take your seats for a moment? I know the mission is chock-full of things for all of you to do and leaves little room for extras. Still, if you come across a specimen or two you can safely get to the helicopter during extraction by any chance, please do so. There will be two cages on the transport and a few tranquilizer guns for this purpose. Don’t bother bringing back werewolves that are dead or injured by your quicksilver ammo because they—”

Hardaway butted in, “Follow your primary objectives for the mission, and only if you deem the situation beyond favorable should you try to collect any of those beasts, dismissed.” The major turned towards Davis, “Come with me,” Hardaway demanded.

“Yes, sir,” Davis said as only she could.

Hardaway filed out of the room with Davis in tow. As I rose out of my chair, I noticed Dr. Chaplin looked as if she had been slapped. She didn’t murmur another word as she gently straightened the wrinkles out of her ankle-length skirt, waiting for us to leave her alone with her humiliation.

I wanted to say something, but I thought better of it. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. It had been a while since I’d had to worry about navigating around hurt feelings.

Dr. Chaplin happened to look up from her primping right before I walked out the side door. I gave what I thought to be a supportive head nod before exiting into the hall. I didn’t bother slowing my pace to see how my gesture was received.

McPherson was waiting for me, his back flush against the wall opposite me. As soon as he saw me, he kicked off the wall, making a loud thud that echoed down the hall before following me towards the next briefing.

“I know my way to the armory, McPherson.”

“I know. I just thought you might want someone to walk with.”

“If you try to give me your lettermen jacket or class ring once we get there, you should know that I know how to break a man’s neck five different ways.”

“Don’t worry, Killian, you’re not my type.” He chuckled. The smile on McPherson’s face was short-lived. “Can you believe how screwed I got on this mission? I mean, anyone can man a fucking gun. I can call my grandmother to operate the fucker.”

“Really? Your grandma is pretty badass.”

“Stop messing around, man. It’s not cool. I’m way better than my objective, and you know I am.”

I understood why he was upset, but his outburst only showed his immaturity. Every job was an important one on a mission. The only thing that mattered was that we met the objectives the way we were ordered to meet them.

I sighed, “Okay, all jokes aside. You didn’t get what you wanted, and that sucks, but our asses, my ass, are depending on you to make a wall of cover if we need it. So suck it up and do your fucking job tomorrow.”

I didn’t give him time to answer. I took the lead, not paying attention to McPherson’s sulking behind me.

The equipment meeting seemed longer than needed, and I was happy it was coming to an end. Most of the equipment we all knew about already. Our combat packs held two handguns: a Sig Sauer P226, an H&K Mk23 Mod 0 45-caliber with a suppressor and laser aiming module, and a Mark 3 knife. My side-mission put me over the weight limit, which would typically allow me to carry an MP5 assault rifle.

Still, the quicksilver ammo and the microfiber chainmail fatigues were excellent add-ins. Anything that gave us an edge was greatly appreciated. In earlier training sessions, it was made clear that werewolves were brutal to kill. So, many myths on how to kill them were exaggerations at best.

Dr. Chaplin reasoned that the truth was lost by the werewolves hiding from the public at large and a generational game of telephone. The silver bullet being the cure-all, was the most famous of these myths. Other than causing a nasty rash, silver in-and-of-itself wasn’t harmful to werewolves, but quicksilver was a death sentence.

Unfortunately, mercury happened to be highly toxic to humans as well.

Wolf’s bane was also deadly to the beasts. Those two substances were the only elements that could be introduced into their bodies that they couldn’t excrete and heal from.

There were other ways to kill them, but all of the up-close and personal variety. A werewolf’s heart and brain had to stay intact and functional, or they would die. If any of a werewolf’s body was entirely severed, it wouldn’t be able to grow back. Fire could also be used, werewolves were known to be skittish around it, but it was only deadly if they were stuck in it long enough to destroy the brain or heart.

When the class finally came to a close, I was relieved to see McPherson hadn’t waited for me again. I needed some time to get my head on straight. My plan was to go to chow, shower, and take a long nap. Some soldiers have a rough time relaxing before a mission, but I never had that problem. I might as well enjoy the quiet before the storm.

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