“Forward! Forward!”
The wave moved forward, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Other trucks drop off the cannon fodder, we have reached a discharge point almost lossless, helicopters destroy a single truck. In the giant traffic jam the panic increased - they have seen those who were heading towards them. So, now those who survived the shelling fled toward the military.
From the destroyed camp a machine gun opened fire, then a second, and a third. An automatic grenade launcher started working, our shooters opened fire in response. They shot badly, failing to take advantage of shooting from the roof and upper floors of high-rise buildings. This was not surprising; most of our rookies were streets bandits with little chance against the soldiers. They had never held machine gun before, and now shot in long bursts, spending cartridges foolishly without changing positions. Soldiers took advantage of this; grenade launchers destroyed our shooters one after another. It was good that we hadn’t sent our police there; we couldn’t lose our best men.
“Forward!”
I moved forward, hiding behind cars, avoiding the bodies lying on the pavement. Some of them had already started to rise to join our army. Soldiers shot at hungry, soldier shot at bandits, and they didn’t shoot at me. Other snipers opened fire.
That was the first target – a tanker officer who disappeared in the hatch of his tank. Next shot…
38. Operations Centre 3
“How did they manage it? How did they break our codes?”
“Zero Group has experienced professionals for cyber-attacks and electronic warfare. They prepared for the fact that we would pull reinforcements to LA and decided to use it for their own purposes. It was cleverly devised – they requested fire support, and brought it to our own position. The north quarantine barrier collapsed and now we have to build a new line of defense, so that the infection doesn’t spread further across the state.”
“Where is this hacker?”
“The signal has moved, he is using a car. Helicopters shot a lot of cars on the streets after the imposition of martial law, so he might have been destroyed. But perhaps not.”
“We have confirmed the identify of several bodies from one of the downed aircraft. They were all drug cartel fighters, and all were considered dead or missing.”
“They knew whom to bring into their army - thugs, whose disappearance would not cause any suspicion. The constant wars between cartels and trafficking provided them with the huge amount of blood they needed. So they waited unnoticed for three years, gathering strength and preparing to go to war against us. How much cargo they have dropped?”
“Eighteen light aircraft and drones dropped into the city, some with paratroopers, and some with containers. We managed to pick up two containers - pistols, AK-47, RPG, ammunition. They have MANPADS, and have shot down three of our helicopters and several drones. Some guns previously belonged to the Mexican army. These are now the weapons for the infected; those who agreed to carry out their orders. Those who didn’t agree were killed; we saw that from the air.”
“Order with an iron fist.”
Jimenez was still sat on a small chair, listening to the conversations in the operations center. They were clearly preparing to leave headquarters. Soldiers handed out weapons; officials packed equipment in large metal suitcases and sent a stack of papers into a portable incinerator. There was shooting from beyond the walls, and a couple of times the building shook from nearby explosions. This was a retreat after losing the battle.
“Officer Jimenez, you are coming with us to our people. In the country we will meet up with the army, and I think the Pentagon wants to see you. This is for you.”
Mr. Jones handed her the trophy submachine gun and three full magazines, and then returned her Glock.
“I hope it's not necessary, but we may have to break out of the city with a fight. There are more and more of them, and almost all barriers in Los Angeles have been taken. In any case, good luck.”
“Mr. Jones! Who are they? Who or what attacked our city?”
Mr. Smith looked at Mr. Jones.
“There is no reason to hide the truth, gentlemen, your secrets are ended. If you want me to help you, you have to tell me who we are fighting. What kind of enemy it is?”
Mr. Jones turned to the window and looked for a couple of seconds at the huge, dazzling Californian sun.
“Vampires, Miss Jimenez, vampires. We are in the epicenter of a war with the vampires.”
39. Gus 3
“Left, he is coming from the left!”
“I see!”
Angel crouched low in his chair, and Gus made a sharp turn, but a burst hit him, adding new holes in the fuselage. One bandit in the cargo bay received a bullet to the head, but Angel doesn’t think about him. All that was important now was that Gus could still fly, despite the hail of bullets.
He had experienced bad luck this time at the end of the route. After dropping the first group, he successfully returned, flying low over the ground as usual. An alarm had already been sounded, and the enemy had raised their air interceptors and AWACS. They explored the boundary airspace with powerful radars, and had knocked many other planes out of the sky, and Gus was using an explored corridor. Flying at low altitude in this hilly terrain was difficult and dangerous even for an experienced pilot like Angel, but it was worth it - the same hills concealed Gus from radar beams, allowing them to remain unnoticed by the enemy. So he was able to return without incident and landed on the reserve base, since the home base had already been bombed. Gringos came around quickly, and understanding where the threat was, immediately started to work with heavy bombs on any airfield where aircraft could fly from. But Gus was so good that did not require an airfield.
He landed on the edge of a small village, where the old bus was waiting for him. In the bus was the new team of thugs, who were to be moved across the border, along with rockets and other weapons. While they hastily loaded boxes, Angel listened to the radio. His bosses had provided him with the latest equipment, so that he could stay aware of the military business. Listening to the radio, he realized that the first group had already created a stir with their missiles. Now gringos have to fights everywhere, without the opportunity to focus on a single point. It was a surprise that they were now shelling anywhere, including their own territory. His thugs had already downed three or four helicopters, and even managed to bring down an attack plane returning from Mexico. With a fresh batch of missiles, it would go even better.
They crossed the border unnoticed, and travelled most of the way without problems. And then they met with the police helicopter, which now hung on Gus’ tail, shooting its machine gun. Bandits in the cargo bay tried to shoot through the open hatch and portholes, but hitting the helicopter was almost impossible, because there was no tail turret. Angel threw Gus from side to side, but the helicopter stuck behind him as if with glue. It is good, that the cops had the M249, not an old heavy Browning M2.
“Land!”
“Where, moron, land on what? He will shoot us in the open field!”
Another burst broke Goose on the tail, and there were two more dead in the cargo bay, but now he saw shelter ahead – a massive abandoned farm, where Angel sent the wounded plane.
“Hold on!”
Gus entered the passage between the two cowsheds, ripping wires. The left wing was flung aside, bumping into a lamppost. The chassis broke and Gus fell on its belly, draw a long furrow in the ground with a loud screech. Even before the broken plane stopped, Angel jumped out of the cab, clutching a long IGLA tube.
“Well, where are you?”
The sudden maneuver had deceived his pursuers. They’d forged ahead and now returned to the place of Gus’ final landing. The roar of the blades approached, and the helicopter appeared above the roof. Angel shot at almost point-blank range, twenty meters, no more. The supersonic missile struck true, breaking the windshield and exploding inside, throwing the helicopter down in a burst of flames.
Angel didn’t r
eturn to his plane immediately, fearing fire and the detonation of fuel tanks, but he was lucky, Gus wasn’t lit. First, he got out the first aid kit, and handled a wide cut on forehead. Then he looked into the cargo bay. The weapons were not damaged, apart from a couple of bullet holes in the boxes, but all the passengers were dead. Those who were not killed by machine gun hadn’t survived the crash landing. It was time to use the emergency transmitter. The men on this side of the border would come to get their goods, and save him. And while he was hiding in the abandoned farmhouse, he took out an injection gun with small scarlet single dose capsules – thanks to the scent of blood the Hunger had awoken earlier than usual.
40. Jimenez in the operations center 2
Jimenez looked out the window at sun and the lengthening evening shadows, and then turned to Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones.
“If I had not seen what I saw this morning and in the afternoon, I would laugh at your joke, but you're not joking. Real vampires, really attacking people and drinking the victims’ blood, I believe you. But what about this sun outside the window? I have met many of your vampires today, and none of them burnt like gunpowder in the sun. Vampires should die in the sun, should burn, isn’t that true?”
Smith laughed nervously.
“You see, miss, the reality is very different from Stephenie Meyer’s books. Vampires, who arrived in our city this morning by Flight 263 do not burn in the sun, they can’t even get skin cancer. These vampires don’t turn into bats, don’t stop to count spilled grain; garlic is just seasoning for them, and holy water the perfect remedy to quench their thirst. They can’t read minds, and they do cast reflections in mirrors.
“As you have seen, it isn’t necessary to use silver bullets and aspen stakes to kill them. Ordinary bullets give excellent results. And why? Because these vampires are not magical, they aren’t mythical creatures, or Satan’s messengers.
“We call them “vampires”, but the more accurate word would be “mutants”. They're all mutants. The virus struck their DNA, destroying their own blood and now they look for someone else’s blood. Getting blood is a matter of survival, and they will stop at nothing to get it. That's the truth, no romance.”
Jimenez was silent for a while. It seemed like a joke, but she didn’t want to laugh.
“So, they aren’t the living dead?”
“They are real people, modified by a virus. This gives us an advantage – it’s not difficult to kill them. All that would kill an ordinary man is also fatal for these vampires. Shoot, strangle, stab, break the skull with a baseball bat, or use poison in coffee - all work. In addition to blood, they need food, water, air and sleep. It's hot in the sun for them and cold in the winter, so, as you can see, they have a lot of weaknesses. All this makes them even more dangerous - weak people have to stay smart to survive.”
Jimenez remembered all the vampires she had seen today: civil, military, doctors, firefighters, police officers. Men and women, young and old, wounded and maimed.
“Wait, there's something that doesn’t make sense. You said that they are real people just like you and me, that they may die, and you can kill them in the usual way. Then why the hell don’t they die from blood loss?
“The girl with the camera, the first one I saw at the airport - her throat was cut from ear to ear. Anyone with such a wound would have died from blood loss in less than a minute; I remember that from my training courses in first aid. But she was not going to die, and attacked me with her bare hands. She only died when I hit her with three bullets. Why did the bullets kill her and not the blood loss?”
“That girl with the camera, do you remember how her dress looked?”
“It was a normal dress, just covered in blood, torn and hanging like a rag, too big for her. Wait…”
Jimenez raised her hand to prevent interruptions.
“I remember. The clothes on all of them hang, as if they are a dozen pounds thinner, and it happened almost instantly. Is this an answer?”
“You're right. When a hungry vampire attacks a man, he rips his throat. The blood loss is huge, and death from such an injury should occur very quickly, but this is not happening. The virus invader wants to expand its territory. It needs new carriers, and can’t let them die, so the virus takes care of their survival.
“We don’t know exactly how it happens, but when it falls into a new organism, the virus rapidly changes the body, modifies it. Fatty tissues begin to decay almost instantly, turning into what we call the "ersatz", a temporary blood substitute that starts flowing in their veins, quickly sealing the wound.”
“That is why they are so dramatically losing weight. The virus burns fat better than any fitness trainer, processing fat into ersatz. The main purpose of blood is to carry oxygen from the lungs to the brain, and ersatz can deal with that. It isn’t good for anything else, the virus isn’t able to consume this ersatz, so…”
“So they need real blood, and begin to search for it?”
“You’ve got it.”
41. Tiger
He slowly stood up, brushed broken glass from the girl, and looked her over - there was no blood. His ears were still ringing, but the shelling was over, and Tiger still lived. The cashier and his truck workers, too. They were saved by the concrete blocks which he’d brought here; they shielded them from the close blasts. He found this funny.
“Get up! You're not hurt?”
There was no more military camp, checkpoint or small rich town near the road. In their place were fires, shell craters, broken cars, and many dead and wounded. And there was shooting from there, from the city.
“What happened?”
“We were bombarded with our own ship.”
“Why did they do this?
“How should I know? Probably fucking friendly fire!”
Tiger called himself a motherfucker. He’d left his carbine in the truck, and now lost it – the truck cabin was broken, and spilt fuel began to burn.
“Quick, grab food, water, takes all the money too. Get out of town, on the highway. Take your family, find cars, motorcycles, even bicycles and leave.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the war.”
Pushing her from the looted store, and making sure that she was going in the right direction, Tiger moved toward the fence. He found a weapon almost immediately, taking a carbine from the hands of a dead guardsman and pulling out of his bloody pouch a pair of spare magazines. Better.
“Private!”
Not all the officers had been killed. Tiger found it a very good sign; he didn’t know what to do, he needed a clear order, and he got it. The lieutenant took him and a few soldiers forward. Bypassing the broken mobile hospital, charred remains of staff tents and burning convoy, they walked to the checkpoint. He could still hear machine gun bursts, the jackhammer sound of rapid-guns and grenade launchers, and the thunderous roar of tanks.
“Come on!”
Tiger’s position was in an overturned school bus. Behind the metal carcass hid three more soldiers, among them the tanker driver.
“After the shelling, the people in the traffic were attacked by a whole horde of crazies. There was a massacre. Now it’s your task to stop them. Soon tanks will be here, you must cover them from the grenade launchers. Some of our enemies are well-armed, they shoot from those high-rises, beware. Remember - everyone who is bitten becomes one of them, so no close-in fighting! Hold the position!”
The tank’s guns again fired against the high-rise buildings, and there was no return fire. For a short time it was surprisingly quiet, with only the occasional explosions from petrol in cars.
“Listen, when they run at us, will you be able to shoot? Among the rabid are many women and children, and they are indistinguishable from a normal person, as if we…”
“Shut up,” broke in Tiger. ”There.”
Ahead, behind a veil of smoke, were movements. From there came cries, double shots, and then people ran towards the overturned bus. Crazies chased them, and Tiger reali
zed that distinguishing them isn’t that difficult - they moved differently, and were all seriously wounded in the neck area.
One of the rabid knocked down the old man and began stabbing him in the back, blow after blow. His head was shattered to pieces by Tiger’s single shot. The other soldiers shot too, they repelled this attack easily. Through the smoke someone fired a shotgun several times, making a dozen holes in the orange bus roof. The tanker driver fired back, using his grenade launcher, and killed the unknown crazy with the shotgun. Surviving civilians huddled close to the bus, knowing that they would be protected here.
“Fuck!”
“What it is?” Tiger turned to the tanker driver.
“I’ve been hit. Do you have a bandage?”
42. Juke Box
Ivanov didn’t understand what happening; no one in his crew understood. Ten minutes ago everything was quiet, and then the calm was broken by heavy shelling from their own ship. Around the Juke Box military trucks and civilian vehicles were burning, and the command center had been blown into the air. The local two-storey houses were destroyed, blast waves and debris killing people. But there hadn’t been any direct hits on his tank, so Ivanov and his crew safely survived their first real battle. The shelling stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and through the radio chaos Ivanov finally managed to get in touch with a superior officer. The officer ordered them to go to the fence and support the few surviving infantry with cannon fire. Juke Box moved, pushing aside a flashing National Guardsmen truck and shifting through some burning wreckage, probably a Ferrari, Ivanov thought. They arrived at the checkpoint later than the other tanks in the platoon, so they only took one shot - they sent a high explosive into the old hotel’s upper floor, where machine guns were firing on the checkpoint. The firing stopped.
Vampire's Day (Book 1): Epicenter Page 8
