The Ancient Storm (The Scourge Book 3)

by Phil Maxey

  Marina snorted. “You mean that monster actually cares for his son?”

  “Not sure I would phrase it like that. He sees him as a future heir to his throne. Until then he just wanted to use him to help track his enemies.”

  “That makes more sense.”

  Silence briefly returned.

  “Umm…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry about what happened at Haven.”

  “I’m sure the people that died there and were driven from their homes will be happy to know that.”

  Carla sighed and looked away, back into the darkness.

  More silence.

  “So, why the change of heart?” said Marina, still looking out of the side window to the fence nearby. “You seemed to enjoy selling out the human race.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Wasn’t like what?”

  “I took no pleasure in helping Copeland. Until Colvin died, I thought that maybe Copeland could be persuaded to do the right thing, that the corporation could help stabilize things until what was left, if anything, of the legitimate government could step up.”

  “How’d that work out for you?”

  “I’m here now. I’ll help you stop him.”

  “Good to know…” Marina picked up the noise of rubber, and rattling. “There’s someone coming…”

  Carla looked around. “Where? I don’t see any headlights.”

  “On the other side of the fence.”

  They both leaned over and watched as two dark rectangular shapes slid up to the fence near them. A figure got out, and in an instant leapt to the top of the shape at the back. He then hopped over the fence.

  Joel approached the truck as Marina opened her door.

  “All I could find was this pickup and a horse trailer.”

  Carla nodded. “Looks good, we should be able to get everything in there. Let’s start.” She banged on the metal wall behind her head, and the back of the truck opened.

  Dalton, Evan, and Kizzy jumped out.

  Joel had previously questioned the usefulness of the skinny young girl in helping them carry the two hundred pound crates to the back of the truck, but then watched amazed as she trebled in size to be as large as Dalton.

  Marina backed up the truck to as close to the electrified fence as she could get.

  Forming a human chain, Dalton and Kizzy lifted the crates up to Evan and Marina who carried them across the roof of the first truck, stepping over the gap, then onto the roof of the trailer, where Joel and Carla helped them down to the ground, and into the back.

  Luckily the headlights which they had previously spotted did not return, and Marina parked the first truck behind some trees, then leapt over the fence and jumped in alongside Joel. The others were in the back and soon they were heading towards the prison.

  Carla could hear breathing, but couldn’t see anything in the dark of the trailer.

  After a few minutes of silence she pulled the small flashlight out of her jacket and switched it on.

  Dalton was leaning back with his eyes closed, Kizzy was examining a flash grenade, and the young man she didn’t know was staring off into the distance.

  “So, you have been with Joel for some time?” she said to Evan.

  Evan looked at her surprised. “Err… yeah. Since Bellweather where I lived.”

  The trailer bumped along whatever country road they were on, causing Carla to tighten her grip to the crate she was sitting on.

  “You were in the army before working for Copeland?” said Kizzy, tossing the grenade back in with the others.

  “Yeah, I was a second lieutenant.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Copeland?”

  “Yeah.”

  Carla went to talk but stopped, there were no easy definitions of her former boss. Her thoughts were too clouded by her hatred of him. “He’s someone that we need to stop.”

  The trailer slowed.

  Everyone but Dalton stood and tried to see what they could through the small slits at the side of the trailer.

  The backwash from the headlights just about gave enough light to see the first of three substantial metal fences. Unlike the hastily put together barrier that surrounded the town, this stood twelve feet high, and had barbed wire across the top.

  Upfront, Joel and Marina watched carefully as they drove through open gates and onto a forecourt.

  Joel slowed the pickup to a stop, the headlights illuminating the gray concrete outer wall of the prison. A secure-looking door sat at the bottom of it, and just visible in the gloom a few hundred yards away, at each corner, were circular towers.

  “Looks more like a European castle than a prison,” said Marina. They were the first words she had said since they set off.

  “If we can secure this place, we might survive whatever Copeland throws at us,” said Joel. He pushed the door open and walked to the trailer. “I’m going to check out inside.”

  The metal gate to the trailer swung back and Carla jumped out with Dalton. In her arm was an M4 rifle.

  Dalton kept on walking past Joel towards the door.

  “I’m coming too,” said Carla.

  Joel nodded then looked to the others. “Keep watch for any vamps. If you see anything, honk the horn.”

  Evan nodded.

  Joel looked into the complete black of the night around them. Even though the prison was located in the center of miles of boggy ground, with the occasional forest breaking up the landscape, there were no sounds of frogs crackling or any movement of birds. The world around him was devoid of animal life.

  “You coming?” said Carla at the main entrance to the prison.

  He ran and caught up with her, stepping over the threshold of the thick metal door and into a wide corridor.

  Carla swung her flashlight’s beam around to a scene of ruin. Glass lay scattered across the otherwise smooth floor. It belonged to a small office off to one side. Further along was a tangled mess of metal gating, and beyond that; gloom. Joel leaned through were the reinforced window would have been. A filing cabinet along with a computer screen laid on the floor, both covered in torn books and pieces of paper.

  “Where’s Dalton?” said Carla, pointing her light into the corridor.

  “Somewhere down there.”

  They walked forward, taking notice of signs which mentioned staff rooms, medical facilities, and exits to other wings, finally arriving at another open gate. It was made up of iron bars and was hanging off its hinges.

  “Vamps have definitely come through here,” said Carla.

  A noise echoed in the distance. Carla flicked her light in the same direction. “That’s probably Dalton, right?”

  Joel took two steps forward when a horn boomed out behind them. They both spun around then looked back into the corridor.

  The horn filled the air once again.

  “Go back and see what’s going on, I’ll find Dalton,” said Joel.

  Carla nodded and ran off.

  Joel looked ahead, back into the darkness as the light from Carla’s flashlight dissolved behind him.

  He jogged forward, looking through small, barred doors for any sign of movement. A sound of growling and scuffling came from behind a door just ahead. He ran to it, and without stopping flung it open.

  Vamps.

  He had emerged onto one of the cellblocks. Each side was two stories high, full of cells, and at the bottom, were what appeared hundreds of vamps, all dressed in prisoners clothing. Some of them were also now being flung through the air like rag dolls.

  Dalton had taken his wolf form, but despite his desperate attempts to fight off the legions of claws and fangs that were flailing at him, was being swamped under their number.

  Joel’s eyes turned dark with rage, and he sprang forward, tearing across the figures in the gloom, until he made it to the beast-man that was now cowered on the ground. Joel held out his hand. “Come on!”

  The thing Dalton had become snarled then
sniffed and uneasily got to its clawed feet with the help of Joel. He batted away other vamps as they tried to get close, and they both staggered back to the door, Joel slamming it shut as the things on the other side barreled into it. His eyes returned to normal just as Dalton shrunk back to his usual human size. Dalton was bleeding from numerous slices in his legs and arms.

  As Joel took Dalton’s arm and placed it across his shoulder, he suddenly became aware of the other sounds of fury that were now coming from all directions.

  The horn and gunfire was just audible in the distance.

  “We gotta get back, can you move fast?”

  Dalton nodded.

  They half walked half jogged down the corridor, towards the pickup’s headlights, and the sound of fighting.

  Vamps burst through the small door from the outside and scampered over the discarded gates towards them.

  Dalton tried standing upright, but then grimaced. “Just leave me and take care of them…”

  He leaned up against the wall while Joel grabbed a long, jagged piece of gate, and impaled the first vamp then pulled the spear out and decapitated the next monster.

  A flicker of light swept across the entrance, along with the clatter of gun fire and vamps grunting.

  Carla appeared in the doorway. “Come on, we have to go!” she shouted.

  Joel ran back, heaved the huge frame of Dalton across his shoulders, and ran forward along the corridor, and out into the night.

  Kizzy was fighting off vamps swinging multiple fists while Evan and Marina fired from M4s and used the butts when the bloodlusting creatures got too close.

  The pickup was sitting with its engine idling, uncoupled from the horse trailer.

  Joel lowered Dalton down to the back of the pickup. The big man crawled onto the bed at the back.

  “We can’t leave the weapons!” shouted Joel at Carla who was still firing as vamps ran at them.

  “Got—” she let forth a volley of bullets. “—No choice!”

  “Come on!” she shouted to the others. They ran and jumped on the back.

  Carla jumped into the driver’s seat while Joel jumped in next to her. Slamming her foot down on the gas, the pickup jolted forward. Dalton grunted while the others held on best they could and tried to hit the creatures that were running across the fields towards them.

  Soon they were back on the road and leaving their attackers behind.

  Carla briefly looked across to the blood on Joel’s hands. “That yours or Dalton’s.”

  “Not mine…” He looked down shaking his head. “Fuck!”

  Carla jumped and looked at him. “What?”

  “We stole the weapons just to lose them!”

  “We’ll get them back just gotta wait until daybreak. Until then, we get the rest and store them somewhere else. Plan stays the same… shit.”

  They both looked at the array of headlights that was streaming from just beyond the electric fence.

  Carla slowed to a stop. “What do you want me to do? I can turn around and get us out of here.”

  Joel shook his head. “Drive us to the fence.”

  A few moments later she stopped near where they left the camp almost an hour before.

  Flashlights now joined the vehicle lights pointing at them as she and Joel got out and walked towards the fence.

  “Hold up there!” shouted a voice.

  “I’m Joel Garret!”

  Behind the glare someone hurriedly got out of a pickup and stormed across the sodden ground to the opposite side of the fence. Joel could see it was Holland, and he was holding an M4. He raised it towards him.

  “Where’re my weapons!” the older man shouted.

  “At the prison…” said Joel.

  Two other men walked to Holland’s side.

  Even in the gloom Joel could see Holland’s face first become confused then quickly melt into anger. The barrel of the gun wavered then steadied, pointing at Joel’s head once again. “What the fuck are they doing there?!”

  “We, umm, wanted to persuade you that the prison was the right place to go to…”

  Holland’s face hardened then he swung around in frustration. He turned back towards those on the other side of the fence. The gun was now at his side. “And now you know why I said the prison was no good, right? Now you have lost us a good amount of our hardware, you realize? Tell me you get what a stupid idea that was?”

  “Umm… we didn’t know…”

  “Nothing’s different—” said Carla.

  Holland’s face scrunched up once more. “What?”

  “I told you we couldn’t trust them!” said Boyd, holding his own weapon.

  Holland ignored him.

  “The prison is almost impenetrable. If we can—”

  “No, what you’re going to do, girly, is get back in that pickup of yours, and go back and get my weapons. Then you’re going to bring them into the camp then turn around and get the fuck out. And if I see any of you again, I’m going to kill all of you.”

  Joel heard Art’s sigh from yards away. The older man leaned into Holland and whispered something into his ear. Holland looked at Art in surprise then frowned. Both men then walked away, back into the darkness while Boyd held his gun and grinned.

  Joel could hear the conversation between Art and Holland despite their attempts to keep their voices hushed. After a few moments Holland stood, shaking his head, then turned and returned to the fence.

  “How many vamps are at the prison?”

  “Hundreds, but we killed a good many of them on our way out,” said Joel. The first part was a lie, he thought there must have been closer to a thousand locked in the hallways and cells. But the prison was their only chance.

  “And you think you can clear them all out?”

  Carla nodded. “With some help from the rest of my people and some of yours, yeah, we can do it.”

  Holland was shaking his head again. He looked back at Art who was standing nearby. The older man nodded.

  *****

  Amos stared at the wall of his hotel room. Despite most of the inhabitants being asleep, there were still enough awake to keep him in the same state. Their thoughts easily penetrating the striped orange wallpaper which was plastered across the walls around him.

  When the scourge hit ‘Fog City’ his parents were away in the Far East on a second honeymoon. He had been given the chance of going with them, but the chance of getting free rein of their apartment which looked out over the bay was one he couldn’t pass up. He had it all planned out, two weeks of playing online games in his underwear coupled with, if he was lucky, a date or two. After hiding all of his parents pictures, no unsuspecting girl would know the five bedroom place wasn’t his. He was definitely going to lose his virginity this time.

  Then the world ended.

  The last he heard from his parents was they were going to catch a plane back to the states, but the airports were jammed, so it might take them longer than expected.

  After a month, he knew they weren’t coming back.

  He had heard the screams from the adjoining apartments and watched what looked like crazy people running around the streets seven floors below. All of which meant it was only until the point he started to contemplate eating the houseplants that he slid the locks back on the door and ventured outside.

  He made it as far as the lobby when he ran into a vamp. He spotted it before it saw him, and, at first, he thought it was some poor soul with deformed features, but then he saw the gloss of blood across its claws and jaw and knew this was something completely different. Unfortunately, he was so transfixed by the monster from nightmares that he hadn’t heard its friend creeping up behind him. It tore across his back, pushing him forward, back into the elevator which automatically closed and started rising.

  He staggered back to his apartment, closing the door behind him then examined the wound. It wasn’t as bad as it felt, and it felt bad. Maybe a few inches long, not that deep.

  He decided he would gi
ve it another day then instead of going out of the building he would check out the apartments next to his and on the other floors if needed.

  The following day he couldn’t get out of bed. He was burning up, and his joints felt as if he had ran the San Francisco marathon.

  Great time to get the flu, he thought.

  He didn’t realize it at the time, but that night he changed. He woke up the next morning more hungrier than he had ever felt in his life. He didn’t care about what could lie around each dark corner. He threw his clothes back on, and ran out into the hallway.

  The first apartment he found with an open door, he also found a body. A middle-aged woman. Her neck torn open. At first, the sight almost made him retch, but instead of moving past the unfortunate woman to investigate what food they had, he found he couldn’t take his eyes from her neck. He then found he enjoyed how her remaining blood tasted. And that’s when he realized the scourge was no normal virus, and that he was now something different.

  It wasn’t until a week later that he discovered he also wasn’t like other vamps. He had control of his faculties. He wasn’t a mindless killing machine like the others that searched the streets at night for prey. And more than that, he could hear their thoughts. If that’s what you would call them. Mostly, it was scenes of blood and gore played on an infinite loop which only seemed to slow when the creatures were feasting.

  That was also how he avoided them and honed in on what humans were left. He preyed on the old, those that were going to fall victim to the monsters anyway. He saw it as being merciful.

  On the start of the third month he felt as if the city was his. Nothing could get near him, and when they could, he had a way of turning their own rage against them which meant the monsters tore each other apart rather than him.

  He knew Copeland’s mercs were near the apartment complex. Heard their plans and, in his ignorance, thought he could go with them and avoid being their hostage by knowing what they wanted before they did. He would convince them of how useful he could be to them. They would give him a job, maybe even see him as an equal.

  A day later, he was in a cell being kept like a lab animal. He could hear the thoughts around him, but could do nothing about it. Every time he tried to project feelings out to those that were keeping him captured they would shock him. That grew boring real quick.