Jack County Demons by AK Waters, Vincent Hobbes

to death. Get them rolling. Get them over there right now."
    Sandra turned in her seat, and began her protest.
    "Sir, if they're detected—"
    "Let me worry about that!" he interrupted. "At the moment, we can on ly hope they are alive. One of them, at least. If so, we need to get them help. And our cleanup crew can't get there fast enough."
    Then, another voice, this one male, joined the conversation. It was Agent Tomohiko. He was also in his late twenties, and his workstation was near the Commanders'. He walked over, cautious, eyes on the screen as well. "Sir, if I may . . . this is a delicate situation, as you know. If we send in local authorities, our boys may be in a tight spot. They could be arrested. Actually, I'd venture to guess they will be arrested."
    "Damn it, not now!" Jacobs stated loudly. "Our only concern is the well-being of our team. It's a damn bloodbath down there. We've received no word from LT, Red or Whisky. If they're hurt, this is the only way to get them help, regardless if their cover is blown. I'm not going to have our operatives left behind while we follow protocol."
    "I understand, sir," Agent Tomohiko said. He was troubled, as was everyo ne else. This mission had gone south quickly. Lowering his voice and nearing the Commander, he asked, "Is there a chance these guys are for real?"
    But Jacobs didn't respond. He didn't want to go there. Not yet.
    After a few minutes of silence though, he did finally speak. What he said caused everyone to sit upright in their seats. Jacobs didn't realize his headset button was on. "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
    Peters was the one who spoke up first. "Sir?" he questioned.
    Then, to everyone in the room, Jacobs replied, "Yes. Yes there's a chance."
    Lopez then interrupted, saying, "Battery life is at forty-eight percent, sir."
    "Roger," Commander Jacobs acknowledged.
    Agent Tomohiko neared even closer. He spoke in a hushed tone. "Sir, putting a recon element on the ground will get us the Intel we need."
    "Negative," Jacobs said.
    "But sir—"
    "No! There's no time for that. Lopez," he then said into his mica, "I want you down to five hundred feet. And Jacobs," he said, turning to the man, "I want a thermal and I want it now."
    "Descending to five hundred," Lopez said begrudgingly, pushing the drone lower and lower and not wanting to. "Beginning the turns. Thermal on."
    Minutes later and the drone flew even lower. It swooshed through the sky, bearing down on the location. Thermal readings were computed and a live feed was broadcast on the wall screen in the Control Room.
    Commander Jacobs sipped from his mug. He valued good coffee and had it shipped in. It was one of the few luxuries he indulged in. He eyed the screen carefully as Lopez reports.
    "Sir, we have visual of the target. No movement."
    "Okay. Peters?"
    "Yes, sir?" the man asks.
    "How many satellites are we connected to presently?"
    "Nine, sir."
    "Switch servers. Relay all 911 calls to the Control Room."
    "Yes, sir."

Chapter 10
     
     
    LT left the bar a bit dismayed, and a bit buzzed. He had hoped to learn more, to know more about what exactly was terrorizing the town. He realized the people inside the bar either had no clue, or were holding a great secret. He assumed they were scared, and instead of facing it, facing their demons, they would instead ignore them.
    LT turned to walk back to his motel. It was late, and he had much to do tomorrow. He was going to go out with the team, take a ride with the boys. There were a few old factories and warehouses that needed looking into, and that's exactly what they would do. The demons had to make home somewhere. It was Commander Jacobs who figured it would be somewhere outside of town. Somewhere they could plot and plan, somewhere they could take their victims and none would know better.
    And as he stopped in front of the pub, LT fretted more on the matter. The local police, the sheriff, they were of no help.