The Ancient Storm (The Scourge Book 3)

by Phil Maxey

  “Have I not kept all of you safe from those things outside? The fact that all of you are still breathing, eating, and shitting is down to me. I did that. And I’m telling you now that the prison is our only chance to survive what’s coming for this town. Now, you all have tonight to get your stuff together. Be outside your homes at eight a.m. tomorrow to leave. You all got that? Or I gotta fire this gun to wake you all up again?”

  Murmurs of acceptance rippled around the crowd.

  Holland walked to his pickup where Art was waiting.

  The older man had a radio in his hand. “We found the pickup. Just one man hiding out in an old factory about ten miles across the border.”

  “How was he talking to his boss?” said Holland.

  “Looks like they can still use cell phones. Some kind of special satellite network that the corporation can access.”

  “Did he send on what we wanted him to say?”

  “Took some persuading, but he did it eventually.”

  “Good, now he’s done that keep him there—” Holland put his arm around Amos’s shoulder who flinched. “—I want my little friend here to have a look inside his head.”

  *****

  Joel jumped from a second-floor balcony impaling one vamp upon landing. He pulled the broken iron pipe from the dead body and ripped it across a second vamp that had already been hit twice by M4 rounds and was about to lunge at Bishop. The creature fell, clawing at the ground just a few inches from the soldiers boot.

  She pointed her rifle down at its head and let out one more burst, killing it dead. She looked at Joel and his eyes returned to their human versions. “Err… thanks.”

  Joel, covered in blood from the last few hours of slaying vamps, nodded as he walked past her back into the hallway which acted as a hub between the last remaining vamp-infested cellblocks.

  He leaned down, picking up an old rag which he had already left there as well as the radio, and started cleaning his hands as he clicked on the radio. He told the others that cellblocks ‘F’ and ‘H’ were clear.

  Keller’s voice came through the speaker along with gunfire.

  “You need our help?” said Joel.

  “No—” The cracking of bullets splitting the air came to a stop. “—The dining hall is clear. Over.”

  Carla’s voice then came from Joel’s radio. “That was the last location with signs of vamps. I think we’re done. Everyone meet in the dining hall. Keller, we’re coming to you. Over.”

  Some of the soldiers with Keller finished piling the bodies of vamps on top of each other as Joel and Bishop pushed through the green double doors into the large square room. Twenty others sat on chairs and tables looking tired, but happy with their work.

  Joel walked up to Carla. “Any injuries?”

  She knew what he really meant was, were any cut and could possibly be infected.

  “Lots of bruises and they will be sore in the morning, but no one’s infected.” She turned to the others. “Good work everyone. We need to get all the bodies outside. We can’t burn them because it will draw too much attention, so tomorrow we’re going to create a pit to throw them into.”

  Joel noticed how different she looked from when he first saw her. This woman had hope for the future whereas the person before was just pretending they did.

  Joel spotted Anna talking to some others. “Did you get a chance to check out the medical facilities?” he said, walking over to her.

  “I did, one ward with five beds, a small theatre for procedures, and a small lab for blood work. It’s better than nothing.”

  Twelve miles to the south-east, Amos got out of a pickup and approached the blocklike building with trepidation. The fear of the bound man deep inside was radiating off the walls like heat.

  Holland and Art, along with two other guards pushed open the door, and walked inside. Amos followed.

  Weaving around large pieces of metal bent into pipes, wiring, and other shapes that Amos couldn’t see any purpose for, they finally arrived at a narrow staircase which they climbed and entered a small office which looked out over the factory floor.

  Even without the smell it was obvious the man had been living in the forgotten space for some time. The floor was littered with open cans, their contents rotting inside. In the center of the room sat the enemy, his hands bound behind his back, his feet tied to the chair, a gag across his mouth, and a blindfold across his eyes.

  His head picked up when the new group walked past the two men guarding him.

  Amos knew what Holland wanted of him, but when he discovered he could read the thoughts of others, this is not how he saw his future. Poking around the mind of a condemned man.

  Holland looked at Amos. The young man nodded, and sighed.

  “Well… do your thing!” said Holland.

  Amos knew if he told Holland that he already extracted the important pieces of memory, the man would be dead a few moments later. “I need more time.”

  Holland shook his head, frowning, then nodded to the others in the room to leave. He then stepped to the door. “You got five minutes. You got that?”

  Amos nodded.

  What the fuck do I do?

  Trickles of blood ran down the man’s face, and dark red patches covered his pants and shirt. He was already in a bad way. Usually his need for blood wasn’t accelerated by the smell and sight of it, something else which made him different to most vamps, but, for some reason, the individual in front of him looked like a prize thanksgiving turkey ready to be feasted on.

  Maybe I should do it. Put this guy out of his misery. Maybe…

  The flimsy door opened, and before Amos had a chance to cover his ears, the small space was filled by the boom of a single shot and the stench of gunpowder. The chair and man fell over backwards.

  “That wasn’t five minutes!” said Amos to the guard with the gun. A high-pitch whine resounded in his ears.

  Holland stepped back in. “I know you were stalling. You’re young and, even though you’re a vamp, don’t like the killing. I get it. But that’s going to have to change. So what did you learn?”

  Amos rubbed his ears while looking up at the taller man. “We have to step up the schedule they are already on their way.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Copeland watched the lights pulse and wane. Neon glows which trekked around the five chambers, seemingly with purpose, then died and were reborn again. He had been looking upon them at the back of the ‘emergence’ area as he had called it for over an hour, transfixed by the patterns and the possibilities of what might walk forth upon the earth when the time was right. He wanted to be there when it happened.

  How would he greet them? These kings of old. The first kings.

  Would they recognize him as their equal? Or…

  An annoyance spoke words to him from feet away. Some lackey whose life’s only meaning was to convey information of real importance to others.

  Copeland turned. “Yes?”

  “Iona Mathews is asking for you in the situation room.”

  Copeland nodded and the man walked away.

  The fact that he had to move from the dazzling sight at the end of the large scientific area angered him, but he wanted the defeat and recapture of the tablet and his son to be in no doubt, and that meant he had to oversee the planned events of the next few hours himself.

  He took one glance back at the sarcophagi and walked to the elevator. A few moments later he was walking along the dimly lit corridor, and then past two guards into a room full of shadows and neon glows. Humans sat working at computer terminals, and a large display, which showed a zoomed in image of the ground taken from thirty thousand feet, dominated everything. The fact that it showed farmland interspersed with blue-gray streaks told him it was old, because the sun had fallen below the horizon in San Jose.

  Mathews, dressed in black army fatigues, stood upright when Copeland entered the room.

  “Speak.”

  She looked to the large screen. “This was
the scene at the Westlands camp earlier today. They appear to be moving a large amount of people and supplies out of the camp to a new location. Approximately five miles from the town to the northwest.”

  He looked at her directly. “Our contact there told us all was quiet within the camp, that Antos had made contact with the informant and was working to get control of the tablet?”

  “Umm… that would appear to have been false—”

  He slammed his fist down on a glass-topped illuminated table, causing cracks to appear in the surface. Those seated around stopped their jobs for a moment then continued.

  “—But as you can see, they have no idea we have drone capability.”

  “How far away are my legions?”

  “A few hours, sir. And we have three tactical teams within strike range when you give the go ahead…”

  Copeland calmed his rage, he needed to not let it get the better of him. Garret will not get away this time…

  “Antos and our informant are presumed to be dead or compromised. Either way, we go ahead as planned. Do you understand?”

  “Umm, of course, sir, but—”

  “Yes?” His voice was deep and without mercy.

  “The location they are moving to is a maximum-security penitentiary. It will be extremely difficult to breach that structure. The vamps will be virtually useless and—”

  His eyes bored into her mind. She knew seeing the morning would depend upon on her being able to tell him that the mission had succeeded or not. She also knew the prison changed the plan from a guaranteed success to fifty-fifty.

  “I’ll get it done, sir.”

  “Inform me when it has begun.”

  *****

  A string of lights, like an electric eel, weaved its way across the dark moisture rich landscape along the single country road from the town to the prison.

  Joel stood in the west corner tower, the one known as ’Tower B,’ his vision extended by binoculars. He swept his view from the few points of light sparkling in the town to the south-east, the south, and then the west. The shapes of the occasional clump of trees and warehouse broke up the otherwise mundane landscape, but apart from that there were no obvious signs of danger.

  ‘They’re on their way’ were Holland’s words on the radio a few hours before, but Amos wasn’t able to give any ETA as the man they killed was absent of that information as well.

  He sighed.

  How long do we have?

  The vehicles in the convoy started to pass through the first gate which was now welded back onto its hinges and was working, being manually pulled opened and closed. The next two were almost back to full function as well as blue welding sparks flew into the night a few hundred yards away from the tower.

  Footsteps came from the rattling stairs behind him. He already knew it was Evan from his pattern of breathing.

  “Oh, I thought there was no one up here,” said the younger man, stepping onto the floor and putting his satchel down on the desk. A blanket stuck out of the top of the bag.

  “Just taking a quick look before I head back into the cellblocks.”

  “You spot anything?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Where’s Bill?”

  “With Max, I think…”

  Joel sensed the frustration in Evan’s voice.

  “There’s a lot to try and understand. It’s good Bill’s working with the scientists…”

  Evan remained silent.

  “So, you’re staying up here?”

  “Yeah, if that’s alright? It’s too crowded down there.”

  Joel placed his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “You are now Tower B’s official lookout officer.”

  Evan grinned.

  “You got a radio?”

  “Yeah, in the bag.”

  “You been taking the blood rations?”

  Evan nodded.

  Joel offered him the binoculars. “You want these?”

  He shook his head. “My grandfather gave me his pocket scope.”

  “Keep your eyes on the horizon. I have a feeling it won’t be long. There’s still five hours left of night—” He looked back at the attempts to get all of the outer gates attached. “—I can’t see them waiting until the sun’s up. There’s going to be one or two positioned up here with you with guns. The towers are the only position we have to fire back over the walls.”

  “I understand…” Evan turned away to look in his bag.

  Joel hesitated at the top of the steps. “We’ll get through this…”

  Evan looked back with a smile. “I know.”

  Joel made his way back down the stairs and onto the damp gravel outside, a few of the townspeople were contained inside the cages which the prisoners were allowed to use for their daily exercise. They watched him, muttering to themselves, as he walked to one of the side entrances.

  As soon as he walked inside, the echoes of the living were impossible to ignore. He found his way to one of the connecting corridors which was full of people, some moving with purpose, but most just looking confused.

  “Where are the restrooms, son?”, “Will the water be turned on?”, “Will food be handed out in the dining hall daily?” were some of the questions. He smiled and politely answered as best he could.

  He felt as if they were all on a ship… an ark perhaps, but this time it wasn’t animals, but humans fighting for their survival from the deluge that was about to crash upon them.

  Finally, he made it to a former staff common room which had become a makeshift center of operations.

  “Any sign of them?” said Carla.

  “Nothing yet.”

  “They could be watching. Staying just out of sight.”

  “Is everyone and everything inside the walls?” said Joel to Carla or Holland who was sitting in a chair sipping on some coffee just behind her.

  “Yup, the town is now inside the prison,” said Holland.

  “And the heavy stuff?”

  “Parked around back,” said Carla. “I’ve sent two long guns to each of the five towers with enough ammo to last them for days.” She turned to a large piece of stained paper laid flat on a table. It was the blank side to a poster which previously hung in the same room. On it was a rough plan-view sketch of the prison, walls, and ten or so miles of the grasslands around it. She, along with Joel, Holland, his son, and Art, looked down at it.

  “It’s pretty flat, so we’ll know when they are within a few miles from us unless they use the air.”

  “There are flying vampires?” said Holland confused.

  “Well, yeah, there are, but I’m more worried about the helicopters the corporation has. If they can get them here by a series of refueling stops, then they could fly over these walls and drop teams right on top of us.”

  “We’ll take care of them if they do,” said Boyd. He had two shotguns strapped to his back.

  “Well, point is, we need this place secure. All the main entrances within the facility need to be locked down. Then even if they do get beyond the walls it’s not going to help them much.”

  Anna entered the room. “Medical facilities are up and running. I’m working with Lee and the town’s doctors and nurses. It’s a bit cramped in there, but I’m confident our triage will work.”

  “And what of your kind? You ready for the fight?” said Holland to her.

  “‘Our kind are ready to do what needs to be done,” said Joel, answering for her.

  Carla’s radio came to life, informing her that all outer gates were now locked, and the main entrance. She looked at the others. “Now, we wait.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Shannon laid back on a lower bunk in a cell looking at a magazine. One from a number she had collected up from other cells. She was on the fifth from the small pile.

  She was glad that the heavy door did a good job of keeping sounds and smells out as the world just a few feet away was one of chaos. The sounds of babies crying combined with a constant rumble of fearful questions as to
what would happen next. A part of her missed her parents’ home, and the solitude, despite the dangers that came with it.

  She ignored the glamorous-looking women, turning the pages slowly, and then stopped, almost in shock, as a handsome young man jumped out at her from a professionally taken photoshoot. It was a man she now loathed.

  She wanted to quickly flick through the pages, getting to whatever lifestyle article came next, but instead she started reading about Daniel Copeland. The confident-looking CEO had given an interview some years before describing his intentions to find the ‘cure for aging.’ His interviewer struck Shannon as slightly arrogant, asking questions which quite clearly were designed to paint the entrepreneur as unhinged, but Daniel avoided the pitfalls stealthily, and by the end of the piece Shannon couldn’t help but like the interviewee.

  She wondered how the person on the slightly soiled pages between her fingers was now the monster that was threatening to destroy one of the last remaining refuges of humanity that she knew of.

  “What happened to you?” she said to the final photo.

  A knock came on the door.

  Like a prey animal, she froze. Maybe they would go away.

  The small opening in the door slid back, bringing with it Kizzy’s face and a barrage of noise.

  Shannon wondered if she could be seen in the shadows cast by the single candle that was burning nearby.

  “Hey, can I come in? I’m going to kill someone if I stay out here.”

  She had seen the strange quirky young woman around, and wondered what her ‘story’ had been. She also heard she was an Alkron, although she wasn’t sure what that actually meant.

  “Please?” said Kizzy, grinning while pushing her face up against the bars in the gap.

  At the back of Shannon’s mind, a voice was wondering how the girl outside could reach the opening in the cell door, with it being almost six-feet off the ground, and Kizzy only being around five-foot five.

  “Sure…” She looked back down at her magazine, moving past the Copeland article.