by Derek Gunn
Below him he saw the thralls eagerly watch him fall back into their grasp. His body began to shut down. His great strength began to ebb away; his eyesight began to grow unfocused, like it was before he had become a vampire. The pain swept over him in waves, and then he felt the impact as he struck the ground. After the first few spears tore into him he became completely numb. He remained conscious, but he couldn’t feel anything. Not until the big bastard who had rallied the thralls approached him with an evil smile and a wickedly sharp machete.
Carter pulled away from the vampire and presented its head to the cheering thralls around him. He reveled in their cheers and a feeling of triumph and relief flooded through him. They had won. He looked along the line of the border and saw fires and destruction as far as he could see. The other thralls had not fared so well, obviously. The vampires had already moved on, oblivious to what had occurred here.
The repercussions of what they had achieved would be far reaching though. Thralls had stood against their masters and won. The world was changing and all they had known before was now gone. The balance of power would shift, especially if he could rally his forces before the vampires realized the importance of what had happened.
“Master,” one of his men shouted over the cheers of the other men. “Wentworth’s thralls are on the move.”
Chapter 20
Steele thundered through the dark, feeling reckless and alive. He ran the risk at this speed of being heard by thralls or seen by a passing vampire, but, if half of what Dee had reported was accurate, then it was unlikely that he was in any danger from patrols. The engine throbbed between his legs, its drone monotonous and hypnotic, almost lethargic in its uniformity. In fact, combined with the drugs he still took to keep the pain at bay he would have nodded off long ago had it not been for the freezing air that snatched at him and chilled him to the bone.
His mind was filled with conflicting emotions. The last time he had traveled this road he had been on his way to suppress a vague threat for Nero. The vampire master had not provided much detail to the council when he had requested a specialist in guerrilla warfare. It took a lot for a vampire to appeal to the council for aid, the loss of face alone was substantial and the favor they would ask in payment would not be small.
He had always known deep down that the happiness he had found with the other survivors would never, could never, last. It was only a matter of time before he would be missed. While he was not that important, Von Richelieu would miss his pet eventually and send someone to find out where he was. It would also be unusual for Nero not to contact the council after his troubles were overcome; the council would require their payment and would send an envoy to Nero eventually. When that happened the fledgling human population would be discovered and the full power of the vampires would descend on them. It was too late for him, but hopefully he would be able to delay that inevitable encounter as long as possible.
He really did not know if such a small community could survive in the long term, all the odds were against them—and that was with everyone working together. With the current fractured leadership, he despaired. However, if anyone could find a way, Harris would do so. He thought briefly about Harris as he crossed the border into Von Kruger’s state.
Harris was haunted by something that even Sandra knew nothing about. At first Steele had been fairly certain that Harris would self-destruct. Whatever was hidden deep inside him would eventually be too much for him and he would either, take one chance too many and die on one of his missions, or he would just give up under the weight of everything that was stacked against him.
But that had not happened. Steele could see the haunted look in Harris’ eyes still, but he seemed to be able to use it to fuel his resolve rather than letting it swamp him. That was quite impressive in someone so young. Tonight was going to be pivotal, though. If they could use the conflict between the vampires to their advantage then they could certainly add dramatically to their numbers, but how many could they realistically cope with? He didn’t know, especially with a ruling council riddled with petty power posturing and downright evil intent. They didn’t have enough food for any large intake of people, and they didn’t have sufficient beds to cater for that many serum withdrawal patients, either. Not that Harris would consider that anyway. He was focused on the rescue only and making sure that there would still be humans left alive next week and next year to rescue.
Steele didn’t think that he would have the strength of character to make those decisions, as Harris has done. Maybe that was why he had given up so long ago when his sister had died, and Harris had not. He did not know much about the man’s background, none of them really talked about what they had been before the war, it just seemed so pointless. But something had happened to Harris that drove him so relentlessly.
Whatever it was, Steele hoped it would be enough to get them all through the next few hours.
Harris was as ready as he was gong to be. There was no time for in-depth planning. There weren’t enough of them to rescue the number of people that would be in the holding cell and there was no way that the community could handle the number he would like to bring back anyway. But, he was ready regardless.
Already he could hear the deep thumps of distant cannon fire and the lighter, more rapid chatter of machine guns. They were only a few miles from the border here, and the occasional flare of light pinpointed the scene of the battle being fought in the distance.
They approached from the south; there was no point in being careless and coming from the direction of their base—just in case they were seen. The thralls had repaired the town’s meager defenses and they had to waste precious minutes dismantling the wall around the town so they would be able to get out quickly if required later on. Harris signaled his team out of the truck and motioned for the engine to be cut. He listened intently to the noises of the town and scanned the darkness as best he could for any sign of the thralls.
He motioned for Dee and Warkowski to scout ahead, and the others began to tear at the newly laid bricks across the road. The wall was only four feet in height, but it was high enough to damage any vehicle that might force its way through, except a tank, of course but they didn’t have one of those. Harris sweated as they began to tear the wall down. No matter how silent they tried to be they still had to break the wall, and the noise seemed to reverberate around the streets like pistol shots with each blow of the sledgehammer. The cement was not completely dry from the day’s earlier repairs but was sufficiently hard to require a hammer to loosen the mortar.
They wasted over thirty minutes clearing the road, stopping regularly as other sounds intruded. Once he heard engines fire into life mere streets away and he imagined that the thralls had heard them and were on their way in force. Another time he heard the easy banter between two thralls as they walked along the next street. He signaled everyone to remain silent and each of them stood silently, most of them with broken bricks still in their hands, as they waited for the guards to pass. Sherman looked at him with his eyebrows raised but Harris shook his head. It was too early in the night to take out guards whose disappearance may be noticed at the wrong time. Better to leave them to their patrol for now.
Finally they had cleared sufficient space for the truck to pass through easily and everyone climbed gratefully back into the truck, many of them sucking on numerous grazes on their hands. There was a glow of light ahead of them where numerous lights powered by a generator were positioned around the main square. The low hum of the engine throbbed in the air and Harris was grateful for the noise as it allowed them to get their vehicle close to the square without undue attention.
Unfortunately, it also meant that there was probably a larger guard presence in the square than they had planned for. There was no way the thralls would waste precious fuel to light an area just for their human captives. Harris looked at his team. He had planned a speech, something to mark his pride and gratitude for their confidence in him but, in the end, he found that his mind dr
ew too many parallels between this and the last time a group of friends had placed so much trust in him. He looked at his small group now but all he could hear were the screams of that other group as they had died two years ago in Boston.
He was embarrassed by their trust in him. He felt unworthy in light of what had gone before. No matter how many times he had brought them back safely it just never seemed to dull the pain of the time he had survived and everyone else had died. He did not know why he had survived—many times he wished he hadn’t. At least then he would either be dead or a mindless captive somewhere. He couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was different, though. Yes, he was nervous. His past was foremost in his mind, as it always was as he began a raid, but something felt different tonight.
After tonight everything would change. If Steele completed his mission the vampires would know all about them. He had wrestled long and hard about sending Steele. He was well aware that their small community could never survive a direct assault by vampires, but with the war escalating as it was, he hoped that the vampires would be too busy with their own troubles. If they did stop using the serum then they would have to completely change how they incarcerated their captives. This would not be easy considering the sheer numbers of humans they held, and Harris hoped that it would allow them the time they needed to prepare. He knew he was taking a terrible chance with the lives of all the men, women and children in their small community. He was only too aware that he did not have a mandate from the people to do this, either. But the alternative was to let millions die from the serum, and he could not do that. Even if it meant they would all die in the effort. There was no doubt in his mind that their small group could not survive long term anyway in their present numbers. They had to grow as a community or risk dying in isolation.
He rationalized his actions with the knowledge that the serum had to be stopped to ensure everyone’s future. Once he had done that he hoped that his guilt would ease, though it was not for himself primarily that he did this. There could be other small groups of survivors in other parts of the world. He fervently hoped that there were. He prayed regularly that the people he had helped escape two years ago had actually gotten away and were even now building a future. There had to be other groups, but they would all die if the vampires lost their sanity and their main source of food. They would destroy everything in their rabid search for blood. They were bound to uncover any survivors, no matter how well they were hidden.
In many ways it would be simpler if he did not come back from tonight’s raid. His presence in the community was becoming more tenuous every day, and he had had enough of fighting, both with the vampires and with the constant bickering in the council meetings. He was drained. He had been given two years and he had done everything he could to ensure the community’s survival, but he felt now that he had come to a crossroads.
He felt a strange calm inside him that he didn’t usually feel once the mission had started. Normally his stomach would be knotted with tension at this point. He accepted his fate. He should have died two years ago anyway.
“You all know your positions,” he scanned their faces. He felt tears welling in his eyes and he hastily drew the balaclava over his head to hide them. “It’s been an honor knowing you all.” He saw their confusion at his words but he did not elaborate.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Warkowski frowned as he listened to Harris. He was talking as if he did not plan on coming back. He had seen men before in his years in the military that had that haunted look. Usually just before they took a stupid risk or crashed out of the army for mental reasons. He would have to watch him. Harris was their focal point. His was the will that drove them all. Warkowski was honest enough with himself to know that he would never take such risks for others if Harris was not so dedicated to doing what was right.
He was a good man himself but he would not risk everything as he had done over the last few months if he did not have a role model showing him what it meant to be selfless. He had been happy to take part in raids when it meant that he would hopefully find his family but, if he was honest, once he had rescued them, he would have been happy to become a farmer and let someone else look out for the captives. He had considered resigning but never had the courage to face Harris’s disappointment. He knew he owed his family’s life to Harris, most of his friends in the community did. It was just a shame that more people did not tell him how influential he was.
It took huge commitment to go against everyone for something you believed in, and Harris had had to do that constantly over the last few years. He saw the tears in Harris’ eyes and he felt a deep dread in his stomach. He would have to watch Harris this night or they might all lose something more precious than they realized.
Sherman watched the people around him as they prepared to leave for their positions. God it was sickening how bloody good these people were. He was finished with it all. Why should he risk his life for people he didn’t give a damn about? It had been fun in the beginning, and it beat farming for a living, but it had changed since then. Up till now they had gone on small raids where the risk was relatively low, especially for someone who knew how to appear to be involved while staying relatively far from the fire fights. But Harris had them invading a fucking town now. A town crawling with vampires. Next the bastard would have them storm vampire head quarters.
No, it was time for a change of leadership. It was unlikely that Steele would return from the vampires’ lair, and if Harris were to have a tragic accident then it would leave the top job vacant. And if the bloody thralls were too useless to kill him then he would have to make sure that the job was finished for them. Phelps had already come to him secretly regarding taking over Harris’s position, so, while it would be tragic, everyone was aware that Harris was forever taking too many chances. His death would not be questioned.
Bastard has a death wish anyway so I’ll probably be doing him a favor, he thought.
Chapter 21
Von Kruger was annoyed. He could see the brief bursts of light in the distance that signified the beginning of the offensive. He could hear the rumbles of explosions and the screams of terror, and he could taste the scent of blood in the air. And he was still too bloody far away to do anything about it. Wentworth and his cabal would decimate his thralls. His precious tanks and equipment would be so much scrap metal by the time he got there. He had miscalculated badly yesterday. He should have attacked Wentworth’s forces earlier in the evening. Why he had delayed he did not know. The old taboos and rules no longer held the same power that they once did. He wasn’t sure why but he felt more free than he had in years. The old ways were past. It was a new age; one where the strongest would survive and the all others would fall in line or die screaming.
He had taken an extra thirty minutes to organize his forces when he had awoken. There was no point in arriving at the border with only some of his forces and the rest arriving in uncoordinated pockets. His summons had been sent yesterday and he had lost four loyal vampires as they flew into the dawn to deliver his messages to the far reaches of his province. It had been worth it though. Cabal members were arriving with every moment and his confidence grew with each addition.
He gathered his youngest vampires to him. His cabal numbered more than four hundred in total and nearly two thirds were older vampires who had followed him from Europe. They would be his core. The younger vampires could still be very useful to him of course but their loss would not trouble him too much. They danced around him in anticipation as they sniffed at the air, and he cast his voice out to them all, extolling their courage and their loyalty. And then he sent them on their way.
They would be his first strike, his spearhead. They would target Wentworth’s forces and tear through them with all the eagerness of youth and raging hormones in their race to seek his approval. Who cared if they died proving their loyalty to him? They would weaken Wentworth’s forces and allow him to sweep in and destroy all those who remained after the first wave.
After tonight he would rule twice the territory, and then he would move against the others. He would use the new vampires as his main thrust and eventually they would all either prove their worth or die in his name. The council should never have granted them recognition anyway; they were far too young to wield such power. When he finished there would only be the strongest left. And he would rule them all.
The council was weak, and it weakened all vampires with its petty compromises. Vampires were creatures of violence, not farmers of mindless humans. They had all grown weak over the last two years. They did not hunt for their food anymore; instead they sipped from glasses delivered to them at a dining table. It sickened him how far they had been degraded. The council had to die. But first he had to deal with that upstart Wentworth.
The time was here. He launched himself into the air and he reveled in the power running through his veins. They had gorged on humans before they had left and when they had run out of them they had killed any thralls who had been close by. They were ready for anything. Their power was at a peak. Nothing could stop him.
Joshua Caine led the first wave of Von Kruger’s vampires, and he gloried in the power. The wind carried the scent of fear and blood, and his mind buzzed with anticipation. There was no plan; there was no need for one. He would destroy anything in his path. Human, thrall or even vampire. Von Kruger had told them that tonight they would rewrite the rules. They were to kill and feed on everything that stood against them. There were no boundaries, no rules and no ruling class.
