by Phil Maxey
She pushed herself up with the help of the side of the pickup. “Nah. I’ll talk to him. He’s just scared.”
The two men looked at each other.
Kizzy walked forward towards the store. Slower than the first time. She held her hands up. “Don’t shoot…! Err… again.”
There was a hesitant pause from inside. “I shot you girl. In your chest. Even a vamp wouldn’t survive that!”
“I was wearing a bullet proof vest. I threw it off back there. It stills stings a bit.”
A door creaked somewhere in the shadows, and a spindly figure walked forward. The barrel of the shotgun he was holding glinted in the moonlight.
“We’re not here to steal, or fight, or whatever. We just wanted to stop for a bit, and maybe buy some stuff from your store. That okay?”
The man, wearing a grime-laden white shirt, and braces holding up worn brown trousers came more into the light. “You got cash? I ain’t got no use for plastic.”
She nodded.
“Only you then. Your boyfriends there, stay near the pickup. Got that?”
Kizzy smiled and walked forward, walking past the old man, and into the shadows of his store. “I’m going to need some light in here to see what you got,” she said over her shoulder.
The old man frowned and followed her inside.
As flames from a few candles illuminated the shelves and walls of the small store, Dalton leaned back against the hood of the pickup and sighed. Amos noticed all his appendages were distinctly human again as were his thoughts.
“How you end up in San Jose?” Amos knew the answer, but asked anyway.
“I wasn’t. I was from a penitentiary out east, run by the corporation.”
Amos could see images of men in chains being fed one by one into bright clean rooms where scientists and nurses were waiting. Each of the inmates were seated then injected with something. Amos couldn’t tell what it was, and Dalton at the time didn’t know either.
“You were injected with the scourge virus!?”
Dalton, in one swift move, grabbed Amos by his arms and lifted him up. “I said stay out of my head!”
“Okay! Okay. I get it, you want privacy. Just making conversation.”
Dalton dropped him and pulled the driver’s door open and got inside.
Amos pulled his mind from Dalton’s but allowed himself to stay angry. The corporation had been injecting prisoners with the hope that they would find some that weren’t the garden-variety vamps. He was sure the same procedure had been repeated wherever the corporation owned a facility.
He still had no idea why Dalton was in jail in the first place, but he presumed it must have been for a violent crime.
The creaky, store door opened, and Kizzy and the old man appeared with her arm around his. They were busily chatting.
She extracted herself. In her other hand was a bag of non-perishable groceries.
She walked away smiling.
*****
Men, women, children, and other things stood in the cold northerly wind in front of the white huts in the quarantine section of the Westlands camp.
They had all been waiting some time before a column of pickups arrived, and out of one walked Chad Holland.
After Joel got back to his hut seven hours before, he found all the Hybrids waiting for him in the restroom. He barely had time to climb back through the window before Anna, Marina, and Evan tore his satchel from him, and devoured most of the blood bags contained within. He had to wrestle it back to be able to save what was left and have some for himself. After an hour, they had all been replenished, and the hunger which was threatening to overcome each of them had receded back to the dark place in their souls.
He then explained how it had been Donnie that had taken it, and the young man’s actions had now landed them all in a whole heap of problems. They discussed and argued, but it was obvious those who ran the camp were going to know that there was a vamp now inside the fence. And there were a number of humans sleeping in the beds nearby who might not be completely trustworthy if their own necks were on the line.
It was around 9 a.m. when guards came to all the huts demanding everyone wake and gather outside. That was thirty minutes ago.
Holland moved to a spot in front of the column made up of just over a hundred people.
“Last night, the blood bank was broken into and some blood was taken. That only means one of two things. Either one of you has taken blood for someone that has turned and you're hiding them somewhere, or maybe one of you are one of these different kind of vamps that I keep hearing rumors about. But whoever it is, you have a choice. Either you come forward now, or all of you are going to be leaving this camp within the next ten minutes…”
While ripples of discomfort, anger, and fear ran around the row of people. The guards, who were watching everyone intently, loaded their guns.
“You can’t throw us out! We didn’t do anything!” shouted a man.
Holland walked up to him, flanked by two guards.
The man held his ground, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety.
Holland leaned into the man until his boxer-like features were only a few inches from the man’s.
“Before it all went to shit, in certain circles I used to be known as ‘Raker’…” Holland held the man’s gaze with his own then stood back upright.
Twenty or so people to the right, Joel cocked his head.
Raker?
A distant memory started to bubble up in his mind.
Where have I heard…
An FBI report appeared in his mind that happened to be posted on the FBI’s internal system. It wasn’t mandatory reading, but he glanced through it at the time. It was on a court case for a crime syndicate which operated on the Canadian-US border. The head of the family was known as ’Raker.’
Chad ‘Raker’ Holland! That’s where I knew him from.
Holland, along with some members of his family, was convicted of criminal conspiracy as well as a wealth of other charges which meant he wasn’t ever getting out of jail.
He was in jail…
Joel ran through his thoughts, trying to remember what the report said, but all he could remember was the computer monitor’s screen and a few words.
“You lot?” said Holland as he walked along the row of people and looked at Joel and the others. “You were the last to arrive yesterday.” He stopped in front of Anna. Marina, with Jess and Jasper, stood to her left while Bill and Evan were to her right.
Marina looked at him directly, not flinching once.
He moved onto Hickman who was looking more ill than ever to Joel.
“I know you’re infected, son, but that’s also why I know it weren’t you as the infected huts have the most security.”
He moved further along, now standing in front of Rachel, Josh, and Max. “Could one of you nerds have taken it? Maybe you’re helping someone else? Tell me and only you get thrown out.”
Rachel shifted on her feet.
A baby started to cry.
Holland moved to Shannon, Donnie, and finally, Joel. He stopped in front of Joel. “I get the feeling that you’re in charge of this group. You probably know who it was, don’t you?” He leaned forward. “Just whisper the name, son, and we can all get on with our day…”
After a few seconds Holland stood upright. “Screw it—”
Joel could hear the change in Donnie’s heart rate.
Don’t do it…
The young man went to step forward when Hickman did instead.
The guards around Holland immediately raised their rifles towards the sergeant.
“It was me,” said Hickman.
A look of confusion came to Holland who walked back to him. “There’s no way you could have gotten out of that—”
“I turned last night—” the soldiers aimed their weapons directly at Hickman’s head. “—Had to have blood. I pretended I needed to take a leak then climbed out of the window.”
Holland still looked uns
ure. He looked to a man standing near the pickups still. “Alonso! Get over here.”
The man who spotted Joel outside the hut jogged over.
“This look like who you saw?” said Holland, nodding towards Hickman.
Alonso squinted and looked Hickman up and down. “I dunno. Maybe. Like I said, it was dark—”
Holland waved him away then sighed. He looked at the two guards. “Take him.”
“You can’t just throw him—”
Holland walked to Anna. “Keep talking and you’ll be right there with him.”
Anna bit her lip.
“That’s what I thought.”
The guards marched Hickman across the damp grass to the road.
Joel wanted to run after him. But instead he remained rooted to the spot as they all did. He looked to his left. Emotion threatened to overwhelm Donnie.
Keep it together, kid.
The power was turned off to the gate, and then opened. Hickman walked through, took one look back, then kept on walking.
Joel could tell Hickman hadn’t turned. The man walking away to his demise was still human.
Holland walked away.
“How long until we get to move into the town?” shouted a woman as he approached the pickups.
“Longer than it would have been.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Joel and eight others stood, leaned, and sat in the restroom in the hut.
Marina looked angrily at the young man opposite her. “What were you thinking?”
He went to reply but Joel beat him to it. “He’s new to this. Being out in the world and being different.”
“I can talk for myself!” Donnie looked at Marina. “You all got blood, right?”
“We could have been all kicked out!” She steadied herself. “I know you’re too young to know this now, but what each of us—”
“Responsibility! Yeah, I get it. I’ve lived that way my whole life on the farm. I probably get it more than you do.”
“I think what Marina is saying, is that we have to act together,” said Anna.
Donnie looked at Rachel, Josh, and Max. “Why they here? They’re not like us. And where’s Shannon? Why can’t she be here if they are?”
“She’s looking after Jess and Jasper with Mary,” said Marina.
“They know what we are, so that’s why they’re here,” said Joel. He looked across at the three humans, trying to read them. Most he hardly knew still. Josh stood with his arms folded; a classic defensive stance. Rachel looked anxious as she usually did, and Max looked like he hadn’t a bother in the world which made Joel smile.
Josh uncrossed his arms. Joel felt that perhaps the archaeologist was sensing he was being judged.
“All of you are obviously not your typical vamp. The scourge virus affected you differently to most of the population. That means you’re valuable and—”
Rachel interrupted the archeologist. “We need a lab, somewhere we can study your metabolism and how the virus operates within you.”
“Looking at that Holland fellow, he’s not going to want any part of that,” said Max.
“Leave Holland to me,” said Joel.
After agreeing to ration the remaining blood, they all filtered back out, and Joel made his way between the huts to the inner gate. The one which offered salvation.
He approached one of the two guards. “I need to speak to Holland.”
“And who might you be?” said a grizzly man lost behind a beard and a winter hat.
“Joel Garret. Tell him I’ve got information he’s going to want to hear.”
The man stepped closer. “Mr. Holland is a busy man, why don’t you tell me what you think is so important and I’ll pass it on.”
Joel smiled. “Or I could wait until I see him again, and tell him you could have told him sooner, your choice…”
The man frowned and walked away taking a radio from his pocket.
Moments later the inner gate was opening. The man waved Joel through.
“Wait here,” he said.
Joel stood looking at the fields and dilapidated buildings that lived on them. He then noticed movement on the road in the distance, and a few minutes later a pickup was pulling up on the side of the road. The figure inside waved him over.
“Get in, I’m taking you to see the boss,” said Art.
As they drove, large warehouses appeared alongside the road.
“What’s in them?” Joel said, nodding towards the buildings.
“Mostly supplies.”
Soon, a mixture of hotels, gas stations, parking lots, and single-story homes gave way to larger versions. A confused mixture of structures seemingly placed with no particular plan, but which tried to catch the eye of those that were always passing through.
“Where is everyone?” said Joel as they drove down streets with early twentieth-century stores on one side.
“No idea. Folks usually keep indoors.”
As they moved from the central part of the town, the buildings spaced out, and lawns and trees replaced the concrete and pylons. Joel noticed a few people moving around in their yards, but the whole place still looked deserted.
“Not far now.”
The green expanded into fields once again, and they were moving up a slight incline towards a more forested area. A number of large radio masts peppered the landscape.
Signs indicated there were superstores nearby, and they passed a large hotel, travelling up a gravelly track. The area looked decidedly more pleasant than the boggy wilderness that newcomers had to stay in.
Art stopped at a gate. Two guards looked at him, and waved him and Joel through.
They drove a short distance up a long drive and stopped outside a large house. They both got out.
Looking back the way they came, Joel realized they were at the highest point in the town, and he could even see the five or so miles back to the huts. He followed Art, past more guards at the entrance, and into the warmer air of a lobby.
The space was like the outside, mostly white featureless walls, with only the occasional piece of furniture.
The sound of footsteps came from the hallway which ran alongside a wide staircase, itself curving around to a second floor.
Holland appeared, wearing an apron, with red stains. Joel could tell they were blood before he saw them.
“Joel Garret. I understand you have some important information for me. Information which, for some reason, you couldn’t tell me this morning when I was standing a few feet from you.” Joel noticed most of what Holland said was expressed as a statement, not a question, but he replied anyway.
“I needed time to think things through.”
Holland stood a foot away from Joel, standing a good few inches taller. “Is that so. Are you hungry? I’m making a steak meal.”
Joel enjoyed a good steak even before he lusted after blood, but he shook his head. “Already eaten.”
Holland turned and walked away. Joel wasn’t sure whether to follow but did so when Art prompted him to.
They all walked into a large kitchen and dining area combined. Like the hallway, Joel felt like he was walking into someone else’s home, one that did not belong to the man currently turning the slabs of meat over in the pan.
“You gotta flash fry it, that’s the secret,” said Holland.
“Chad Holland, head of the Holland crime syndicate. Convicted earlier this year, and should be residing—”
Chad continued moving the sizzling meat around. “Oh, I was ‘residing,’ as you put it, but then as luck would have it… the fucking world ended. Who would have thought that would have happened? I mean, my cellmate, Clay Cote, he would go on for hours about the secret government, ex-Nazis, and all that.” He looked at Joel. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’d be right. Clay was a little… shall we say light in the head, but bless him, his heart was where it needed to be, and that was with his balls in my hands!” He let out a brutish laugh then continued. “Anyway, good guy. The scourge took
him, turned him into one of those things, then we put him down. Had to put a lot down in the prison. After a while, the warden needed us not to be locked up. You know, no guards left and all that. So we got early release, and instead helped to keep the town a few miles from the prison alive.” He held his hands out, one of which contained the meat tongs. “And here we are. Doing just that. Trying to keep this godforsaken shithole alive.”
He put the tongs in the pan and turned the heat down. “What were you, police? No… something more federal… FBI?”
Joel smiled.
“I knew it! Knew it the moment I first saw you.” He opened a cupboard behind him. “You sure you don’t want any? We got a good head of cattle on one of the farms up here.”
“Thanks. I’m good.”
“Ah, your loss.” He got the plate and placed the medium-rare meat on it then started to cut small chunks from it while standing. He placed one in his mouth, and his face was so full of delight Joel wondered for a moment if he was actually a hybrid.
“So, start talking,” said Holland.
“Have you heard of the Copeland Corporation?”
“Sure have, they owned a large percentage of the prisons south of the border.” He placed another cube between his teeth.
“Well, the government might be gone, but the corporation is still around. It’s founder, Daniel Copeland, is not exactly human anymore.”
“He one of these hybrids?”
“Something like that… he destroyed the last town I was in…”
Holland stopped chewing. “Destroyed, how?”
“He can control vamps—”
“No one can control a vamp, it’s—” he waved his fingers near his temple. “It’s lost its mind. They got no control, they just want to eat.”
“A few thousand vamps attacked Haven. It was a town in the mountains, a few miles east of Salt Lake City. Some of us just managed to get away, but the town was overrun.”
“How do you know they didn’t just come from the city?”
“Because Copeland was there, directing them…”
“Like an army?”
