Aztec Treasure

Doctor’s POV

Decommissioned Oil Platform #328, Gulf of Mexico

I looked up from the test results and put my head into my hands. The subject was not cooperative, and so far, my tests were not showing promise. The DNA results showed nothing different between the subject and human DNA. The sperm samples showed no difference either. Whatever it was that made him different was not on a cellular level.

The mechanism of Werejaguar reproduction was unknown, but the exposure of werewolves to the world months earlier provided valuable clues. When a werewolf and a human mated, the offspring was another werewolf. I couldn’t see why, but our plans were proceeding regardless. We had collected Julio’s semen and had it shipped to a fertility clinic in New Orleans. There, the sperm fertilized donated eggs before implantation in surrogate females. The children would be collected and raised within my program to establish a captive werejaguar population under our control and training.

You had to think long-term, as Julio was a poor choice for Company field work. My bosses understood this; as career employees, they knew the best deep-cover agents took decades to develop. In the interim, I needed to find a way to change existing agents into werecats. The Werewolves proved this could happen, both with Frank Grimes and Deputy Mark Brighton. We knew from this that humans could change if we replaced enough blood volume with were blood. I had already collected and stored one bag and would collect more every six weeks until we had enough to treat the first volunteer.

I heard the helicopter just before it landed, and the guard knocked and told me to report to the pad. I closed my laptop and walked out of my office. I followed the guard up a few levels to the top and out to the landing platform. The twin-engine Bell helicopter’s door opened, and I recognized the man coming out.

Daniel French, the CIA’s Deputy Director of Covert Operations.

His arrival wasn’t a good sign, and it got worse when he called the head of the Black Site over and instructed him to set charges and abandon the station. “The site is no longer tenable,” he told the gathered men. “Gather everything of importance and get on the helicopter. We’re relocating you immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied. His men took off to implement the contingency plan. The site chief had briefed everyone on the contingency plan for “sanitizing” the secret prison. Explosive charges attached to the flotation tanks would detonate on a timer after we left by boat or aircraft. Minutes later, the rig would slip beneath the waves and end up two thousand feet below.

I walked to Daniel and spoke into his ear since the helicopter was still going. “What about my research?”

“It’s over, Doctor. Julio is a loose end, and he belongs on the bottom of the ocean.”

He couldn’t shut me down, not now. “No! I’m not done yet! I still need him, and I need his blood, or we won’t be able to change any humans!”

He looked at his watch. “The helicopter is taking the men out, and then a boat is coming for me. What can you do in an hour?”

“I can’t bring him with us?”

“Not happening, Doctor.”

I thought quickly. “I can remove as much blood as I can before we leave. It’s a mistake, though; he’s too valuable to leave behind!”

“He’s too dangerous to leave alive. Get it done, quickly.”

I grabbed two of the guards and gave them instructions while I went to my office to get what I needed. When I arrived in the treatment room, they had Julio secured in a five-point harness to the table. “Remove the collar. I need access to his neck,” I told them.

“That’s against standing orders, Doctor.”

“I don’t give a shit. Take it off, then get on the helicopter before it leaves you behind.” One of the men left to get the key while I set up my bags, while the other went back to sanitizing the platform. The veins in the extremities would collapse before those in the neck, but I got a bag started on his right arm while I was waiting. Julio had about ten pints of blood in his body, and I wanted to get at least six before his heart stopped.

The guard returned, removing the explosive collar. “Be careful, Doc. We’re out of here.”

“Go.” I was too busy inserting needles to look back at him. A few minutes later, I had five bags filling from veins in his arms, legs, and neck. I heard the helicopter engine spin up before it took off. Thirty seconds later, an explosion shook the platform.

I looked out the doorway in shock, walking to the door as dust filled the air. I was not paying any attention to the patient behind me, and that was a fatal error. I turned when I heard a growl, and my head exploded in pain. The last thing that went through my head before I died was Julio’s canine teeth.

Maria Meztli’s POV

Arrowhead Woods

Lance and I got dressed in the garage changing area. When I walked out, I was in a one-piece racing suit with sewn-in armor and padding, armored boots, and a full-face helmet. My hair was braided and tucked under my racing suit, making it impossible to identify me. One man and two women were waiting for us on the ATVs near the door. “We patrol the property four times a day now with ATVs during daylight and have done so since our exposure,” Lance explained. “We do have cameras and motion sensors around the perimeter, but nothing beats a patrol if people sneak onto our land. It happens more times than you might think, though many are groupies.”

“Groupies?”

“Yep. Humans who want to become werewolves and think they are entitled to make the change. We get more of them than the human purity factions. Anyway, we use ATVs during the day, and at night we do patrols in wolf form. The trails are pretty obvious, but they can be challenging. How experienced are you at riding these?”

I just smiled at that. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll keep up,” I told the group. I mounted my ride, a Polaris XP1000 in camouflage colors. The big ATV had cargo racks front and back, a front winch, and a quick-detach mount for an AR-15 inside a protective plastic sleeve. Lance always carried a pistol at his hip, but I was surprised when he handed me a gun belt and holster. “We never head out unarmed,” he told me as I put it on over my suit. The others had pistols on their hips or shoulder holsters, and the women had scoped bolt-action rifles. I also spotted a medic bag and some gear bags on the guard’s racks. “We have two trails, one on the border, another a quarter-mile or so in from that. You and I will be taking the inside route; we’ll pause periodically to sniff and listen. Ready?”

“Hell yes.” The door opened up, and our group started our ATVs and headed down the road along the lake. I pulled into the tail position behind Lance, slowly getting a feel for the power and handling of this big ATV. The ones I’d ridden before were 750 cc models and were smaller and more maneuverable. The leaders took off near the back entrance along the fenceline while Lance slowed down and turned onto a trail behind the lakeside pavilion.

I was having a hell of a good time following the winding trail up and down the hills when Lance held up his hand and stopped. I pulled up next to him, turning off my ATV after he did. “Security picked up a group of men entering our property on ATV’s and heading towards the Pack House,” he told me. “The Pack has gone on alert. The three guards will sweep around between them and the road, and we are to take up a blocking position on the trail. Follow me.”

He wasn’t holding back on our driving as we cut east along a little-used trail. I was struggling to keep up. Five minutes later, we parked below a hill and turned off the engines. “There is a ridge up there that runs along the trail. It’s a good ambush spot.”

I followed him up the rise and heard gunfire in the distance. “What’s the situation?”

“Four men on ATVs, two disabled, two coming our way. They’ve fired on us, so it’s weapons-free. Be careful of the guards behind them.”

I looked at my pistol; it was useless from this distance. I took off the gun belt and started stripping as Lance took a position at the edge with his AR-15, the reflex scope scanning the trail. “What are you doing?”

“I’m an ambush predator, and this is an ambush,” I told him. Once naked, I looped the gun belt over my neck and shifted into my jaguar. I ran down the hill to the trail, jumping up into a large pine tree. Climbing fast, I hid in the branches and waited.

We set up just in time, and the noise of their engines was getting louder. Lance opened up as soon as they were in range, sending round after round towards the men. I watched as one hit the shoulder of the lead rider, making him swerve off the trail and crash. The second man didn’t stop, and the trees would be in the way in seconds. I roared, then leaped from the overhanging branch with my claws out just as the last rider approached.