by Derek Gunn
“We faced down the thralls before,” Regan argued lifting himself straighter in his chair.
“That was a bluff that worked because you were lucky,” McAteer replied. “Carter obviously wasn’t convinced or he wouldn’t have sent his Elite squads in. He wants this community something bad and we can’t stop him if he throws his full strength at us.
There was silence in the auditorium. Harris hadn’t wanted to discuss so much in front of the whole community. In his mind it was best to present the solution to everyone rather than argue each point and show the divisions and uncertainty within their leadership. But he was no longer part of the leadership so this was the best he could hope for.
“Maybe I’m missing something,” Phelps frowned as he spoke, “but how the hell do we get two thousand people out of here and safely away without anyone seeing us and attacking us in the open? Maybe you’ve forgotten, Harris, but we have wounded and children to consider.”
Harris paused as he looked out over the sea of faces. The idea that was forming in his mind was still raw and he would have preferred to have talked through some of the details first but if he didn’t say something then he wouldn’t get another opportunity.
“There is a way, but you won’t like it.” Phelps cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. When no one said anything Harris continued reluctantly. “A few months ago we rescued nearly a thousand people and managed to get them back here…”
“The train,” Phelps interrupted. “Are you seriously suggesting that we just pack everyone here on to an antiquated train and travel across the country? Now I know you’re mad, Harris.” He laughed and turned his attention on the crowd. “My friends, he is suggesting that you travel on the only mode of transport that forces us to follow a pre-determined route and belches smoke into the air just in case our enemies don’t hear the ferocious noise of the antiquated engine. I don’t know if anyone remembers the carnage that the thrall guns caused to the people cramped into those rail cars but I certainly do. That train would be suicide. The thralls would know where we are and where we are going the moment we pass through the first town. And as for the vampires, they could hardly miss a moving train.”
“All true,” Harris replied, “and don’t forget that we don’t even know if the train will still work.” People frowned at Harris as he added another nail to the plan he had just posited.
“It’ll work alright.” Another voice across the room suddenly broke the confused silence and people turned towards a man near the back. Aidan Flemming mostly stayed in the shadows these days. The scars on his face were terrible. He had paid a heavy price for driving the train to safety and had been largely forgotten by the community despite his sacrifice. The flesh had actually melted when the steam had hit him and had healed badly. There had been no equipment or surgeon to help with the healing so he had been left with features that would give children nightmares; in fact he suffered many taunts from the children in the community. None of them realising that he had saved most of their lives. He tried to smile but he knew from experience that a smile on his face was not something that put people at ease. “I left the train protected from the elements. All it needs is for the fires to be re-stoked and allow a few hours to build up the pressure. We’d need fuel as well, of course.”
“Look,” Harris spoke again and everyone shifted their attention back to him. “I know it’s not ideal.” Phelps snorted but Harris ignored him. “The facts are simple, we have to move. If the radiation doesn’t kill us, then Carter and his thralls most certainly will. That’s a fact whether you want to believe it or not. Moving down the block is not going to help. We have too many wounded to walk any great distance so the train will get us out of the city and far enough away from Carter. It will take him a while to realise where we’ve gone. If we can get out of the state then it makes it difficult for Carter to follow without starting a war.”
“I see the logic but there are thralls in the other states, Harris. And vampires too,” Regan said. Harris noted that Regan wasn’t trying to discredit the proposal, just making a point. “Mister Phelps does have a valid point; we are pretty much stuck to a straight line on a train. Once we hit the first town the thralls will know where we are and where we’re going.”
“That’s only true to a point,” Flemming piped up again. “I have a pretty good rail map from our last excursion and there are a number of points where we can switch tracks and …”
“So the thralls need to cover two routes instead of one,” Phelps sneered. “Either way it won’t take much for them to have a nasty surprise waiting for us. Or they could simply destroy the tracks and pick us off at their leisure.”
“We’ll have more than two routes open to us from a number of central points,” Flemming continued doggedly. “We should be able to stay one jump ahead of them for a while.”
“A lot depends on surprise and luck, I admit,” Harris continued. “We can weld metal plate to the cars to protect those inside from enemy fire but this is a risk. It helps that the states do not talk to each other. If we can move quickly enough and switch routes often enough we should be able to get across each state without any major opposition. Once we get far enough away we can consider other transport options.”
“Do you have any idea where we would go?” Regan asked again and Harris noted the glare that Regan received from Phelps. Phelps had lost the initiative and what made it worse for him was that Regan had asked for Harris’ opinion.
“To be honest, no. I have no idea where we can go,” Harris said and waited for the murmur to quiet. “But we need to get to a warmer climate and we need to put some distance between us and Carter. The other states are not aware that we exist so we have the element of surprise. I am sure there are people in this community that are better suited to finding us a new home than I am. Somewhere remote, maybe in the mountains where we can hide our crops from the air.”
“And what about your mission to save the whole world from the serum?” Phelps was getting desperate to turn the initiative back to himself.
“It’s too late for that,” Harris sighed. “We have done what we can; now it’s time to save those that are here and start again. We need to get somewhere remote so that we are far enough away from the vampires. If we’re still here when the food runs out and the madness takes the vampires, the radiation and Carter will be the least of our worries.”
The swell of agreement swept the room and Phelps began to knock the gavel on the table with increasing desperation. When the noise finally reduced enough to be heard Phelps continued. “Well, thank you for your thoughts, Mr. Harris. We will take it under advisement. For now we will vote on the other proposals raised; the first I believe was to move our wounded to the east side of the city while we negotiated with this Carter. How many in favour of…”
“Oh don’t be so stupid, Ian,” The sharp voice came from the edge of the stage where the committee sat and everyone turned to see Patricia Lohan make her way slowly to her seat. She limped across the stage on her wounded leg but her voice had lost none of its vigour. A ripple of applause swept over the audience and Harris was pleased to see that Lohan had the good grace to blush. The people in the community were well aware of who had stayed to protect their retreat and who had led that retreat.
“Thank you,” Lohan began as she raised her hand for quiet. “I have done many things in my life,” she began, “Some of them I am not proud of but the recent attack on this community has driven home a few harsh truths. I have disagreed with Harris most of my time here and sometimes I have been right to do so, albeit for the wrong reasons. If Harris wasn’t so damn driven most of us wouldn’t be here, I can admit that now. Yes, we are in danger now but that is not Harris’ fault, Mister Phelps.” She glared at Phelps beside her and he was about to interrupt when she cut him off.
“I recently discovered what it meant to risk one’s life for someone else. To even have someone else I was prepared to risk anything for was a revelation to me I can tell you. Now
I can see what drives Peter Harris, his compassion, his love for others, and his desperate wish to save as many of us as he can. He hasn’t always been right and we are right to question him but he has always acted with honour and with our best interests at heart. I sat at this table and allowed a great wrong to occur not very long ago, but I will no longer perpetuate that. I formerly apologise to Peter Harris and reverse my vote that banished him from this community.”
There was an eruption of applause in small pockets of the audience but most were too stunned to respond. Ian Phelps’ face was pale as the words hit him, but Lohan continued before he could recover.
“I don’t believe that we have time to examine every proposal raised here tonight, most of them are not worth looking at anyway. Carter will not negotiate and Von Kruger was half mad before the recent escalations so we can expect no quarter from him either. Whether the serum effects are real or not, whether the threat of the radiation is real or not let us be very clear. We have to move. Without delay. We need to gather everything we can and escape before the thralls level this city. Once that reality is accepted it reduces our options considerably. In fact, there is only one proposal that makes any sense, no matter how half-assed it may appear. I propose that we vote to get majority agreement and then spilt into various groups to best decide how to get our loved ones, our food and supplies to this train as quickly as possible.”
Ian Phelps stood while banging his gavel, trying to bring order to the applause that rose from the audience.
“She is a powerful woman,” Warkowski shouted into Harris’ ear.
“Yes, and now that she has something to live for we can at least trust her motivations.” Harris had to admire Lohan. This was the first time she had not fought against everything he had said and, by the reaction of the audience, it was clear who the people thought should be in charge.
“Order!” Ian Phelps finally managed to be heard over the swell of approval. “While we are delighted to see Miss Lohan feeling better there are a number of other proposals that we need to consider…”
“I do not think there are,” Regan interrupted and Harris imagined he could see the very ground beneath Ian Phelps turn to quicksand. Phelps had built his power from the banishment of Harris and had emerged as the key figure on the council, though Regan still held the chair. Now the power was shifting again, carried along by Patricia Lohan’s speech. Harris could see that Regan was doing what he did best, ruthlessly taking advantage of the shifting power base.
“I call for a majority vote,” Regan continued.
“Seconded,” Paul Williams announced. Williams always sided with the winning side and, despite what Phelps might think, the vote was already over. Harris managed to catch Lohan’s eye and she nodded once. There was no smile, no smirk or gloat of victory. All he saw was a very tired and sore woman who had dragged herself from her bed to do what was right. Maybe there was hope for them all yet.
Chapter 8
Tanya Syn watched the patrol as it approached. At this distance it was just a billowing of dust, but she knew it would comprise of three trucks containing food with a fourth truck filled with up to eight thralls. There would also be at least one armoured truck and a jeep with a .50 calibre mounted gun. She crouched behind a small outcropping of rock and, despite the imminent danger, her mind wandered. Her every waking thought was of her son, Mark.
She knew that Josh had been right to force her to leave when he did but her heart would not forgive him or herself. She was overjoyed to have Jillian safe, but the thought of her son still being bled by the vampires was like a hot knife through her soul. She looked over at Josh and saw him intently watching the approaching patrol. Her emotions were too fraught to be anywhere near fair and she glared at him. She wanted to storm the vampire camp and rescue her son and instead he had her out here in the middle of nowhere attacking a food convoy.
On one level she could see the logic. There were too many thralls during the day and attempting anything at night when the vampires were awake was suicide. She knew that, but she wanted to do it anyway. Josh had told her repeatedly that by attacking the food convoys that fed the thralls and humans it would force the thralls to send patrols out to look for them and to increase the number of guards in these convoys. Eventually, the numbers of thralls around the pens would reduce as the thralls were forced to send more and more of their resources out and away from the camp. When enough resources had been pulled away then they would attack the pens and rescue Mark.
She could see the logic, but it wasn’t logic that drove her right now. It was fear for her son and what the bastards would do to him. And it was a burning hatred for the vampires and thralls. They had raped her and then ripped a child from her womb for their insatiable appetites and left her for dead. She would see them all burn for that. There was no room for anything else. Except guilt, of course. Not even the joy of having Jillian in her arms was enough and, at some level, she knew that Jillian was aware of this. Her daughter might not understand the emotions but she did know that her mother wasn’t there for her as she should be. And so the guilt fuelled the hatred and left her bitter and ashamed.
She felt the rumble of the heavy trucks through the ground and frowned. The patrol was taking longer than usual to reach them. They must be travelling at a much slower speed. That didn’t make a lot of sense, surely if they were worried about an attack they would travel faster?
The main camp where the humans were kept in the pens was in the middle of what had been an inner city area, so food could not be grown and livestock had nowhere to graze. Because of this, the food was produced outside the city and had to be driven into the main camp twice a week. This was their third attack since their escape and, already, the number of guards had trebled. The deep rumble of heavy diesel engines reached her and she risked a quick glance and watched as the vehicles began to emerge from the dust. Her heart thumped in her chest as she saw the lead vehicle. No wonder the patrol was travelling so slowly.
She hissed towards Josh to get his attention. “Tank.”
Josh nodded as if she had merely stated that the sun was shining. How in hell were they supposed to take on a tank? There were twenty of them in this guerrilla force with a further hundred people in the mountains, deep in a shelter under the rocks. It wasn’t quite a government shelter but seemed to be where one might have been planned before the economy had crashed. The groundwork had been completed, the rock removed and smoothed out but no living quarters had been built. It was enough for now though; it was deep enough so that fires could be lit in safety with a number of tunnels cut into the rock to ensure the smoke dissipated before rising. They had raided the city where they could and had brought back enough bedding and supplies to see out the winter.
She hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the briefing, preferring to sulk while the others made plans that would not only feed their small band of survivors but also make possible the rescue of her son. She suddenly realised that her petulance might have put them all in danger. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Had Josh anticipated a tank? How could they hope to penetrate the armour? Her thoughts were interrupted as the rumble of the tank became deafening and drew level with her position. The ground shook violently and she felt terror rise within her. Surely they weren’t going to att…
The explosion was so loud that she dropped her weapon. The ground heaved and the rock she hid behind vibrated as it was struck repeatedly with large objects. Her hearing was gone. She looked over to where Josh had been, but there was no sign of him. Her ears were filled with a ringing. And something else. There was another sound, a chattering in the distance but she couldn’t hear it very well.
Gunfire! She suddenly realised. She scrambled to retrieve her weapon, almost dropping it in hands made damp with sweat. She popped her head out from around the rock and it took her a few moments to make out what she was seeing. The tank was stationary with thick black smoke billowing from its turret. Dust still hung over the scene making it diffic
ult to make out details but she could see a number of bodies strewn around and other figures darting through the smoke and dusk firing, rolling, running and dying.
She was frozen for a moment longer as her brain tried to catch up. Her friends were risking their lives right in front of her and she wasn’t helping. She felt a burning shame scald her cheeks and she ran into the fray. For the moment her mind was finally free of its nagging worry for her son.
* * *
Tanya rocked in the back of the truck as they left the scene of the attack. Thick black smoke still climbed steadily into a sky already darkened with clouds pregnant with snow. Her hands shook from the cold and the aftermath of the adrenaline rush. It appeared that Josh had anticipated the tank after all. She had totally missed that part of the plan that had Gerard Tolliver dig a hollow in the middle of the road and cover it with a sand glazed metal plate where he had hid until the tank rolled over him.
Still, they had lost two men. Men that she suddenly realised she did not even know their names. She looked over at Josh and was about to speak when he moved over to her. She expected another pep talk but his face was surprisingly hard.
“Tanya,” he began with a sigh, “this has to stop.” She felt a sudden flaring of anger and took a breath to respond when he cut her off.
“No, this time you’re going to listen to me. You were no use to anyone today; in fact you were a danger to us all. The others don’t trust you and I can’t blame them. Most of them are doing this for you and you don’t even acknowledge them. There are easier ways to steal food than taking on fucking tanks you know.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm and her anger rise.
“Go on, tell me the name of at least one of the men who died today and I’ll stop.”
She closed her mouth in shock.
“And what about Jillian? Jesus, it’s not her fault Mark is still a prisoner. I promised you we would get him out and we will, but it would be suicide right now. We have to do this first. We have to pull them away from the camp or all of this is a waste. It’s working. If you took the time to look you’d see that the convoys are growing in desperation. The thralls are starving. It’s working. And now we need you to play your part. Next time you will do as you are told or you will stay back in camp where you will remain until you have regained our trust. ”
