Served Cold (eBook)

Keith Jarvis Jr. (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
506 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-0-00-113008-1 (ISBN)

Infos

Set in the area of the Vietnam war in the middle of a war zone, a united states military squad are sent in for an rescue missiom. An ambassador who is a bridge between the United states and a secret vampire is held in a villiage cut off from escape. When the troops arrive their assaulted by flying corpse of the pervious inhabitants. And there ambassador is a dark hybrid vampire whos sercrets could get them all killed. With the flying corpses and a greater threat lurking in the jungle they will need to depend of this monster to escape.

Textauszug

Chapter 1: The Humid Veil of War

The air in the makeshift briefing room was thick, not just with the oppressive humidity of the South Vietnamese jungle, but with an unspoken tension that clung to the sweat-soaked fatigues of the men gathered. Outside, the incessant hum of cicadas formed a relentless, almost mocking, soundtrack to their grim reality. Inside, the drone was amplified, reflecting the stifled anxieties of the Night Stalkers as they awaited the unknown. Gunnery Sergeant Hannibal Price, a man carved from granite and stoicism, stood at the front, his gaze steady, betraying none of the unease that had begun to coil in his gut. He’d seen his share of the bizarre and the brutal in his years of service, enough to make the hairs on his neck prickle at the slightest deviation from the norm. This deviation, however, felt like a seismic shift, a tremor that threatened to crack the very foundations of his understanding of warfare.

Captain Sterling, a man whose crisp uniform seemed to defy the jungle’s oppressive embrace, unrolled a map across the battered metal table. His voice, usually a smooth baritone, was tight, strained. “Gentlemen, what I’m about to tell you is classified above your clearance. This isn’t about capturing territory or eliminating enemy combatants. This is… different.” He paused, letting his words sink in, his eyes sweeping across the faces of his men, seeking any flicker of recognition or understanding. He found only grim anticipation. “Our objective is the extraction of Ambassador Minh. He’s our key to ongoing negotiations with… a party we’ve had very limited contact with.”

 

Price’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “A party, sir? Who are we talking about?”

 

Sterling hesitated, a flicker of something akin to apprehension crossing his face. “We’re talking about what some believe to be an ancient, reclusive nation. Let’s just call them… the Nocturne.” He spat the name out as if it tasted foul. “They are… sensitive. Their existence is a closely guarded secret. The peace talks are at a critical juncture. If Minh is compromised, it could ignite a conflict far more devastating than anything we’re currently engaged in.”

 

A ripple of murmurs passed through the squad. Vampire nation? The words hung in the air, absurd and terrifying. They were soldiers, trained to face enemy soldiers, to overcome fortifications and clear enemy positions. They were not equipped to negotiate with… what? Mythical creatures?

 

“Ambassador Minh is located in the A Shau Valley,” Sterling continued, his voice regaining its professional edge, pushing aside the unspoken doubts. “A contested region. Intel suggests he’s holed up in a small, abandoned village, near a tributary of the Song Ve. We don’t know if he’s alone, or if he’s… compromised. Your mission is to get him out, intact. Without drawing undue attention. This is a black operation, gentlemen. Utmost discretion. Any hostile contact should be engaged only if absolutely necessary, and only if it impedes your primary objective. We cannot afford a diplomatic incident, no matter how… unconventional the circumstances.”

 

Price studied the map, tracing the route with his finger. The A Shau Valley. A notorious kill zone, a labyrinth of dense jungle and treacherous terrain that had swallowed countless patrols whole. This was not a simple extraction. This was a descent into the unknown, a gamble with stakes far higher than any he’d previously considered. The intel was thin, the enemy unknown, and the objective shrouded in secrecy. The Nocturne. The name itself was a whisper of darkness, a hint of something that lurked beyond the mundane horrors of war.

 

“Sir,” Sergeant Major Barnes interjected, his voice a low rumble, “what kind of threats are we anticipating? Conventional forces? Local insurgents?”

 

Sterling’s gaze shifted to Barnes, and for a fleeting moment, the captain’s professional veneer cracked, revealing a chink of genuine fear. “That, Sergeant Major, is the million-dollar question. Our understanding of these… Nocturne… is limited. They are said to possess abilities beyond our comprehension. We’ve received… fragmented reports. Disappearances. Unexplained phenomena. Tales that have been dismissed as battlefield hysteria or folklore. But the implications of this mission suggest otherwise. Your rules of engagement are to be extraordinarily strict. Avoid engagement if possible. Observe. Report. Extract. But if you encounter resistance… be prepared for anything.”

 

Anything. The word echoed in Price’s mind. He’d faced ambushes, booby traps, and enemy patrols. He’d seen the savagery of war firsthand, the visceral reality of combat. But “anything” felt different. It felt like a door being opened to a realm where the rules he understood no longer applied. A shiver, unrelated to the oppressive heat, traced its way down his spine. This wasn't just another deployment; it was a plunge into a darkness that felt ancient and primal.

 

“Understood, sir,” Price said, his voice steady, projecting a confidence he didn’t entirely feel. He met Sterling’s gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. “We’ll move out at 0200. LZ will be designated for a silent insertion. We’ll do what needs to be done.”

 

Sterling nodded, relief washing over his face. “Good. The helicopter will be prepped. The intel package is minimal, but it’s all we have. Consider yourselves on your own once you’re in. And Price… tread carefully. Very carefully.”

 

As the Night Stalkers filed out of the briefing room, the oppressive silence seemed to press in even more heavily. The cicadas’ drone, once a mere environmental noise, now felt like a prelude, a rhythmic pulse of anticipation for the horrors that awaited them in the humid veil of war. Price lingered for a moment, staring at the map, at the speck of a village in the heart of the A Shau Valley. He felt it then, a profound sense of foreboding, a premonition that this mission would redefine his understanding of darkness, of combat, and of the very nature of survival. The jungle held its breath, waiting to exhale its secrets upon them.

 

The rotor wash of the UH-1 Hueys churned the humid air, a violent symphony that battled the oppressive quiet of the A Shau Valley. Inside the cavernous belly of the lead bird, Gunnery Sergeant Hannibal Price surveyed his men, their faces grim masks illuminated by the dim, red emergency lighting. Each man was a coiled spring of tension, their M16s cradled, eyes scanning the impenetrable darkness that pressed in from the jungle canopy. The choppers, their navigation lights extinguished, were ghosts themselves, slicing through a sky devoid of moon and stars, a black canvas that mirrored the emptiness in their gut. They were entering the maw of the beast, a place whispered about in hushed tones, a valley notorious for swallowing souls whole. This was no ordinary insertion. The intel, sparse and unsettling, spoke of an abandoned village, a spectral settlement deep within the valley’s embrace, supposedly the last known sanctuary of Ambassador Minh.

The descent was a prayer whispered on the wind. The pilots, ghosts of the air, navigated by instinct and the faint glow of their instruments, their every maneuver a testament to countless hours honing their craft in environments that would break lesser men. The air grew heavy, laden with the scent of damp earth, decaying vegetation, and something else… something subtly metallic, like the tang of old blood. Price’s senses, honed by years of war, screamed at him. This was more than just enemy territory; it was a place that felt wrong, fundamentally out of sync with the natural order of things. He felt the collective anxiety of his squad, a silent current running through their comms, each breath measured, each shift of weight a calculated risk. The rustle of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, the scuttling of unseen creatures in the undergrowth – every sound was amplified, dissected, and cataloged by their hyper-alert minds. Each whisper of the wind through the dense foliage felt like a sigh, a lament from the jungle itself.

 

The Hueys touched down with a jarring thud, their skids sinking into the sodden earth. The moment the ramp lowered, the jungle seemed to exhale, a humid, cloying breath that enveloped them. The silence that followed was not the absence of noise, but a

presence of quiet, a void that felt actively maintained. Price was the first out, his boots sinking slightly into the damp soil. He scanned their immediate perimeter, his M16 at the ready, the beam of his flashlight cutting a hesitant swathe through the oppressive dark. The village was ahead, a collection of skeletal silhouettes against the even blacker backdrop of the surrounding trees. It was, as the intel suggested, abandoned. Huts, crudely constructed from bamboo and thatch, sagged under the weight of time and neglect. Overgrown paths, once trodden by human feet, were now choked with vines and creeping roots, remnants of a life long extinguished.

The air here was different, colder, despite the pervasive humidity. It carried a subtle stillness, an unnatural tranquility that set Price’s teeth on edge. There were no signs of recent habitation – no cooking fires, no discarded tools, no sounds of life, not even the usual cacophony of insects that normally pulsed through the Vietnamese night. It was as if the jungle had swallowed this place whole, leaving behind only its hollowed-out shell. The silence was a...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 21.12.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Geisteswissenschaften ► Sprach- / Literaturwissenschaft ► Literaturwissenschaft
• ISBN-10: 0-00-113008-0 / 0001130080
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-113008-1 / 9780001130081