Vampire Apocalypse: Descent Into Chaos (Book 2)

by Derek Gunn

  The first pass left Von Kruger and his squad dazed. Wentworth and his vampires tore through them, ripping flesh, breaking bones and leaving their victims reeling with the shock of the attack. Wentworth and his squadron continued high into the sky and banked almost lazily as they came back for a return pass. Von Kruger and his vampires were already healing from their wounds but the pain was intense as the damaged flesh and bone began to knit back together. The energy needed for such healing was incredible and only their previous gorging had allowed their bodies to mend at all.

  By the time the others came back towards them most of the serious damage was already repaired, though each of them was close to exhaustion. Von Kruger saw Wentworth among the pack and he rose into the air to intercept him. His body cracked painfully as he changed. Muscles ripped and stretched, bone popped from sockets and broke to accommodate the changes. Flesh tore and blood flowed around his changing body. For a brief second he felt blackness threaten to overwhelm him and he thought for a moment that he had gone too far, but he forced his mind to focus on the change and he used the pain to keep his thoughts clear. He was an ancient vampire and he would not be defeated. He let his anger boil through him, giving him strength and clarity and then, suddenly, the change was complete and he lashed out at Wentworth with a huge talon.

  Wentworth was too new a vampire for his flesh to metamorphose like Von Kruger and the vision that transformed before him gave him pause. It was a creature from a nightmare. Its face was contorted into an insane snarl, its teeth long and far too numerous for its mouth. Its body was like that of a lion but it had wings sprouting from its back and talons that ended in viciously sharp points on its legs and at the tips of the wings themselves.

  Wentworth ducked beneath the first blow but he did not see the wing that followed the first swipe and he felt the point tear into his side and gouge a long furrow along his side. Blood spurted from the wound, quickly drenching his clothes. Blood was the most precious commodity to a vampire; if they lost too much they lost their strength, their healing abilities and finally their very life essence. Wentworth began to lose height, his body already beginning to heal around the wound. But he had lost a lot of blood and vampires could not replenish blood by themselves. He would have to feed.

  He looked upwards and saw Von Kruger following him down, his face pulled back into a grotesque grin, a parody of the creature he had become and the remnants of his own features. Wentworth hit the ground hard and he felt a bone snap in his shoulder. He rolled away as fast as he could but sharp talons raked his back and pain exploded through him. Von Kruger landed lightly next to him and seemed to shimmer as he changed again. He still wore that insane grin on his face as he bent towards Wentworth as if to whisper.

  Suddenly one of Wentworth’s vampires flew directly into Von Kruger, bending the master vampire double and carrying him away as the two figures struggled. Wentworth looked around quickly and took in the situation. Von Kruger’s vampires were all much older than any of Wentworth’s and they fought with a ferocity borne of ancient abilities and arcane knowledge. They had all changed to a fighting shape they were comfortable with and they held their foes, outnumbered though they were, easily at bay. Every vampire he could see was bleeding from deep wounds that ravaged their bodies, but still they fought.

  Wentworth pulled himself to his feet and felt the world swirl around him dangerously. His body was no longer healing but fluids still seeped from his ruined flesh. He heard a groan to his left and he looked over toward the shredded ruins of a tank. He saw one of his own thralls pulling himself from the wreckage, his eyes glued to the scenes of violence around him.

  “My Lord,” he began as he noticed Wentworth stagger towards him. Wentworth ignored the soldier, grabbed his head roughly and bent the thrall’s throat to him. He sank his teeth into the thrall’s exposed flesh and blood spurted into his mouth. Immediately he could feel warmth spread through his body. Liquid fire seemed to thunder through his veins at incredible speeds, filling him with strength. His wound began to heal again almost immediately as he continued to suck greedily.

  All too quickly the blood stopped and the thrall was empty. The hunger still gnawed at him but it had been enough, barely. He looked for Von Kruger and he saw him behead the vampire who had saved him. Wentworth suddenly grew cold with fear. He had attacked Von Kruger and his vampires but he had never had any intention of actually killing any of them. It just was not done. His attack had been merely to stop them tearing his thralls and their equipment to pieces, and if they inflicted a little pain then so much the better. But to kill another vampire went beyond insane. Wentworth watched as Von Kruger flung the dead vampire to the side, and then the ancient master saw him and snarled.

  Wentworth could see no sanity or control in those eyes, only battle lust. For the first time since he had become a vampire Wentworth knew true fear. He looked around him and saw that his cabal was busy, and then he noticed something else. The sky was beginning to grow lighter. In all the confusion he had lost track of time. It was nearly dawn.

  The first tentative tendrils of light began to scratch at the sky. It would not be long before the light spread out towards them and killed them all if they did not leave now. He screeched out a call to his squadron and, with a last look at Von Kruger, he spread his arms, the flesh shimmering and changing as his wings grew, and then he launched himself into the sky and headed back towards his side of the border.

  As he passed over the remains of the battlefield he could still see sporadic fighting. It would be a whole day before he could count the cost of tonight’s carnage. Though one thing was certain; things had changed irrevocably.

  Major William Carter watched the dark shapes of the vampires launch themselves up into the brightening sky. He had only caught the end of that encounter but the vampires had moved so quickly that he was not entirely sure what had happened. His forces had made their way through five camps and all enemy forces had now been repelled back behind their own lines.

  However, as he surveyed the smoking husks of the destroyed and damaged vehicles around him he realized that the cost had been far too high. Hundreds of thralls were dead, thousands of gallons of fuel had been destroyed or stolen and even some of their tanks had been captured and driven back across the border. In all, it had been a debacle. There were few survivors in the camps they had retaken, though any who had survived would take the full responsibility of the failure and he did not envy them.

  He had been lucky that his forces had been beside the attack zone and not part of the front that had been breached. His luck was still holding, but he realized, the rules had just changed yet again. The repercussions from tonight would be far reaching. There would be worse to come and he no longer relished the chance for further advancement. It was getting too dangerous in this new world.

  Chapter 12

  Harris and his small group arrived back at the headquarters five hours after polling had started. Any good the committee had managed to salvage from their open meeting had been quickly eroded when news that their main candidate had failed to turn up for the election.

  They tried hard to explain that Harris was out saving others, that his actions were critical to all of their futures, but it was hard to sway people when your candidate was not present. It was made worse as well by the fact that Regan had made an amazing speech. He had managed to apologize, appear contrite and garner new support all at the same time. It was a masterstroke of public speaking and a testament to the man’s abilities. It was just a shame he was such a rat.

  There was a late surge of support for the original committee when Harris arrived back at the base with another thirty bedraggled and under-fed prisoners newly rescued from their mission—but his insistence in seeing his wounded safely to the hospital, though commendable, did not endear him to those still undecided. They wanted to be wooed for their vote, and by the time Harris did finally appear at the polling station his ragged appearance and bloodstained visage put some voters off. In the end
, the result was predictable.

  It would not be announced officially till the end of the week, but few doubted that Regan would win the election and the scramble to fill the various positions of power began almost before the poll closed.

  Harris was bone tired as he left the polling station and headed towards the rooms that served as a hospital. He had not had the time yet to check in on Sandra and he felt guilty as he walked along the corridors of their new building. People passed by, some of them nodding to him and others quickly looking away as if embarrassed. He didn’t recognize most of them and he realized with a start that he really had been away on missions too often of late.

  Everything had changed. The community was growing faster than he could keep track of. Decisions were being made that would have an impact on thousands of people rather than just a handful. What had begun as a small resistance had grown to a level that had outgrown him, and he felt isolated. It was getting so that he was more comfortable out on missions that he was in one of the number of buildings that now comprised their headquarters.

  It was no wonder that he were losing support. He had been brought up to date on what had happened and he could see that his actions had only made things worse. But he would do it again if he had to, as he still saw that what he had done was the right thing to do. They had saved another thirty people and had set in motion a plan that could save many more lives. He could have stayed home and shook hands with the voters, could have pleaded for his seat on the government, but he was not prepared to do this at the expense of people’s lives. Everything they did now had an impact on their future and carries with it a responsibility that was bigger than any one person. Even the simplest of decisions were more complicated and he was no longer sure he was the right man for the job.

  He was finding that issues of morality sometimes had to take a backseat to necessity. Choosing who would be taken with them and who would have to stay till the next time, if the next time ever came at all, were gnawing at him. What right did he have to choose? It was better that some were saved, of course, but he just did not feel qualified to have the last word. The faces of those he had left behind haunted his dreams and he did not know how much longer he could go on.

  Even though he had not spent too much time studying their faces he was able to recreate their features perfectly when he closed his eyes. Their faces joined those of the men and women who had died in Boston, and it was too much for him to bear. And now, if they lost the election—or when they lost the election—would anybody care about the millions who would die from the serum’s effects? Was Regan serious about ignoring the evidence? Did he not realise that if the vampires had no food that they would scour the planet for the last drop of blood?

  His thoughts were interrupted as he came to the room that now served as the recovery and observation ward. Sandra was sitting up, watching the new arrivals being shuffled towards beds where they would spend the next few days being weaned off the serum. Harris inhaled sharply as he saw her and forced a smile as she noticed him. She looked terrible. Her eyes seemed to have sunk further into her skull, her normally luxuriant hair was flat and lank, and her face was pale, so pale she nearly blended in with the pillow propped up behind her.

  He had been told that she had been overdoing it but the reality of her appearance was still a shock.

  “Hey you,” he smiled as he drew closer and leaned in to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

  “I’ve waited two weeks for you to come back and that’s all I get.” She smirked up at him and grabbed the back of his head and pulled him close for a full kiss.

  “How are you?” he asked when she finally let him go.

  “Bored,” she pouted. “They won’t let me leave.”

  “That’s probably because you’ve been sneaking out too often for the last few days.”

  “But someone had to try and remind people that there are other issues to consider other than hiding away and hoping the vampires will just disappear.” Harris could see the spark in her eyes. She cared too much. Ever since her father had been killed she had tried to keep busy, though her wound had kept her bedridden for some time now. She did not want to spend time thinking, she wanted to do something. Unfortunately, things in the community were changing too quickly for her to be able to keep up and the enforced rest was driving her mad.

  “I know,” he soothed and reached for her hand.

  “How did it go?” she asked, squeezing his hand and smiling. Harris could see the toll his absence had taken on her. As well as losing her father and nearly losing her own life, Harris had been gone for nearly two weeks and the stress and worry were taking their toll.

  Harris filled her in on the events of the previous days, mentioning, but not dwelling on, the wounds both Steele and Roberts had received.

  “So what happens now?”

  “Well, hopefully by the time we go back out both sides will be too busy watching each other to notice us pilfering their supplies. If the fighting escalates we might be able to get to the outlying towns and rescue more people if more guards are pulled to the front. But there’s just no way we’re going to get into the cities.” Harris had agonized over it for a long time now but there was just no way he could justify a major assault and risk so many lives when the chances of success were dubious at best. It still didn’t stop him from feeling guilty, though. Millions would die over the next few months and there was nothing they could do.

  “Anyway,” he brightened, “I’ve had a talk with the doctor and he’s going to let you out tonight. I’m going to cook you a meal and I’ll have you back by nine. How does that sound?”

  She nodded and then yawned.

  “You get some sleep and I’ll be back later.” He stood and watched as her eyes grew heavy. She was a long way from being recovered yet but the doctor had been optimistic, as long as she let her body recover. He moved away and went in search of Steele.

  His wounds were not as simple. One of the bullets had lodged close to a nerve and they did not have a surgeon, let alone one skilled enough to remove it.

  Down the corridor he heard an eruption of shouting and cheers. Through the din he heard a name being chanted over and over. Oh God, he thought, that’s really all we need. The words seemed to mock him as they reverberated along the corridor. REGAN, REGAN, REGAN.

  It appeared that there was a new sheriff in town.

  “Hey, Pat,” Harris stuck his head around the door and greeted the small man bent over his desk.

  “My dear boy,” Pat Smith beamed as he recognized Harris and pulled away from his microscope, blinking myopically as he adjusted to the focus. Smith’s face was usually quite somber from spending most of his time in his lab searching for a way to help in the fight against the vampires. He had already done so much. He had discovered the fatal side effects that the serum would soon wreak on those humans still held in captivity.

  He had also invented the coating that allowed their ammunition to tear the vampires to pieces. Harris had no idea how it worked but it had something to do with using the properties found in wood that accelerated the vampires’ metabolism. In short, it leveled the playing field—somewhat.

  There wasn’t an endless supply of ammunition, by any means, though they had a good supply in their stores that they had found in a nearby army base. The ammunition they had found did not fit the weapons that they had wanted to standardize, though, so they still had to issue too many different types of weapons and it was difficult to keep track. Training was also a problem as people were trained on one weapon and had to make sure they were issued with the correct ammunition or there would be chaos if they were attacked by surprise.

  And that only related to normal ammunition. When dealing with the special bullets each one had to be coated individually with the coating and then repacked into the clips so it was impossible to keep everyone happy.

  Smith beamed at Harris, crossed the room quickly and hugged the younger man. “We were worried about you,” he said and Harris could see
the stress behind the man’s smile. Regan’s stunt had been directed to cast doubt on Smith’s findings for the purpose of increasing his own support, but it had done far more damage than that. Father Reilly had pulled Harris aside after he had visited his men in the hospital. He felt that Smith had taken the charge against him personally and his inability to answer it at the time and save his friends the problems they now faced had sent him scurrying back into his lab. He had not emerged since.

  “What’s this I hear about you disappearing in here?” Harris hugged the man tightly.

  “Forget about that, Peter,” Smith moved back to his desk and picked up a number of sheets of paper. “I was hoping you’d come to me before the meeting.”

  Harris frowned. He knew that Regan had called a meeting to discuss how the reins of power would pass from the current council to his newly elected, and already chosen, new government. The man wasted no time. Though why Pat would want to attend was beyond him. While he was part of the council he rarely attended unless he was specifically needed.

  “What’s wrong, Pat?” Harris asked as he saw the nervous twitch at the man’s mouth.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” he began but then looked at the papers in his hands as if unable to look at Harris. “Some researcher I am.”

  “Pat,” Harris reached for the man’s arm and smiled reassuringly. “Pat, you have to stop taking everything on to your own shoulders. You have done more than anybody to ensure everyone’s survival. Now tell me what’s up”