by Derek Gunn
“Okay.” She handed over her own weapon. “But let me do it.” Harris nodded and moved back to the edge and checked Fleming’s weapon. A clip and a half, he thought. The engine suddenly began to slow without the fire being stoked but he dared not add any fuel with the pressure so high. They needed power not more fuel. Come on, Sandra, he urged silently.
Carlos Ortega saw the train in the distance coming out of the darkness like a demon through a white veil, screaming its defiance and spitting fury. He heart leapt with joy at first as he saw them moving, but then he noticed the high scream of the engine. That can’t be right, he thought as the whistle grew painfully high. He stood for a moment and watched the engine’s single light grow brighter as it burned through the night, but then he became aware of another sound. At first it sounded like a buzzing but he was at a loss to make it out as the wind screamed around him.
He saw two smaller lights in the distance, and then another two close beside them, and he frowned. The chatter of gunfire finally reached him and he realized that that there were vehicles chasing the train. He sank to his knees and pulled the heavy bazooka up onto his shoulder. He took his time as the vehicles were still out of range and he only had one shot. He had to make it count.
Wentworth struggled with the heavy explosives but forced his wings to beat faster. Wind whipped at him and snow froze his face and struck his eyes like sand. He had found the explosives among the dead but the pack was very large. He had no idea how to use explosives and was afraid that if he removed some of the contents to make it lighter that the remaining ordinance might not ignite. There were a number of wires sticking from the package but nothing that resembled a fuse that he could light. He doubted he could get it lit anyway in this wind.
There was a small metal box connected to one of the wires that looked like a detonation device, but when he pulled at it the package threatened to unravel, so he had taken everything. He would get close to Von Kruger, push the button, and get away before it exploded, if there was enough time. If not, then he would take the pain that the explosion would cause—there were plenty of humans back in the town to help him heal.
The battle still raged above him and the figure of Von Kruger was easily recognizable by its sheer savagery. Wentworth could see the other vampires continuing their own fighting but remaining as far from the demented figure as they could. He pulled harder against the wind and pulled himself up above the fighting. He was shocked to see that there were even fewer figures fighting now, and he unsnapped the explosives from his neck as he let his arms fall inwards and allowed his body to drop towards the raging figure of Von Kruger. His nemesis sensed him moments before he managed to secure the package around his neck so the strap fell free and the explosives slipped down Von Kruger’s body.
Wentworth had hoped that the explosion would remove his enemy’s head, but if he delayed any longer the package would be too low to do any real damage. He was almost level with Von Kruger’s eyes when he pressed the button, and he had one fleeting moment of satisfaction as he saw fear creep into Von Kruger’s eyes. And then his own arm disintegrated in the blast and he screamed all the way to the ground.
Von Kruger snapped out of his dementia as the pain brought him to his senses. He had seen Wentworth plummet past him but had not really registered the fact before something tore at his stomach and legs. The pain was intense, worse than anything he had ever felt before, and he felt himself fall as the strength drained from him in a flood. He tried to bring his wings up, but he had no energy. When he looked down he could see that his stomach was torn open and his organs were seeping through the open wounds. His armor had deflected the worst of the blast but the weight of that same armor was now dragging him down. He gave in to the inevitable and let himself fall, using one arm to try and slow his descent while the other gripped his wound in a vain attempt to hold his organs in while his body tried to heal.
He hit the ground heavily but the sheer number of dead cushioned his fall, and he lay there as he waited for Wentworth’s inevitable follow through. Now that his mind was clearer he looked up and noticed how few vampires flew above him and he despaired. It had all been for nothing, after all. What madness had taken them all? He lay wondering as his body began to heal, but there was so much damage he needed a huge infusion of blood or he would die. It was ironic that the very healing ability that strove to repair the damage and save him would kill him by exhausting all his remaining reserves. He saw another body fall from the sky and he braced himself as the vampire slammed into him and broke his arm and collarbone.
He was already so beyond pain that he merely laughed as he saw the blood seeping from the dying vampire’s wounds. He rejoiced as he sank his teeth into the creature and savored the fire that spread through him as he sucked the creature dry. His body took the sustenance and began to knit bone and stitch flesh back together. The agony was glorious.
Wentworth struggled to rise. He had to find out what had happened with Von Kruger. Was he dead? The explosion had torn his own arm from his body at the elbow and the flesh was shredded up to his shoulder and over most of his chest. The pain was incredible but he felt a certain satisfaction that he had brought down the mighty Von Kruger with his mind rather than brute strength.
He had to make sure it was over, though. He tried to rise but his body was shutting down as it used every ounce of his reserves to heal the damage done to him. He saw another vampire fall to the ground just a short distance away, and then he shivered as he heard a cry of triumph.
He felt fear grip him and he just knew that his gambit had failed. Somehow Von Kruger had survived and was already healing far more rapidly than he was. He forced his nausea away and struggled up with his remaining good arm. He looked out over the carnage and saw nothing but dark shapes fringed with white like a mad artist’s depiction of Christmas in Hell.
He forced himself to his feet and ignored the pain as his knees buckled. There was no way he was going to die on his knees.
“Where are you, Von Kruger?” he shouted and felt his head swim with the effort.
“It nearly worked, I’ll give you that,” Von Kruger replied as he stood up suddenly a few feet away. For a moment all Wentworth could see were the whites of his eyes, but then the clouds passed over the moon and silvery light illuminated the blood-splattered countenance of his nemesis. Von Kruger had lost the madness that had plagued him earlier, and the master looked every bit the invincible monster he was reputed to be. He rose swiftly to his full height and crossed the short distance between them and laid a hand on Wentworth’s shoulder in an almost fatherly way.
“Something is happening to us, my friend.” Wentworth was surprised a Von Kruger’s calm words and merely nodded. “The blood lust has never been so strong for our race. Something has enhanced it and we must overcome it or we will all die.”
For a moment Wentworth thought that there might be a chance of reconciliation, but then Von Kruger smiled and looked deep into his eyes. Suddenly his body convulsed as Von Kruger’s hand plunged into his chest and ripped his heart out in one fluid motion.
“Of course, we will have to find out what it is without you.” Von Kruger lifted Wentworth’s heart up to his enemy and then plunged his teeth into the soft flesh. Wentworth died with that vision imprinted on his eyes and carried it with him to hell.
Harris pressed himself against the coal in a vain attempt to merge with the rocks and avoid the bullets slamming into the carriage around him. The jeep was level with them and the heavy bullets were destroying the controls. Tanner lay slumped against the door of the furnace, and his sizzling flesh was overpowering even in the open compartment. Tanner was either dead or would wish he was when and if he woke. Blood oozed from a wound in his chest where the Browning had shattered his breastbone and it left them completely unprotected on that side.
Sandra had managed to wake Flemming, but he was in shock and still hadn’t released the pressure in the engine. The trucks had caught them easily as they had lost speed and,
while they were still traveling at a fair speed, it wasn’t enough to outdistance the other vehicles.
He dove around the small cover he did have and sent two three-round bursts at an armored truck that had closed right against the train. His first burst caught a thrall just as he was about to grab hold of the first carriage behind him and pull himself aboard. The bullets slammed into him and caused him to miss his intended mark, and the thrall fell between the train and the truck and disappeared under the wheels.
His second burst bounced harmlessly off the armor around the truck’s front panels, but the sparks caused the driver to slam on the brakes and they fell behind quite some distance before the thrall managed to recover and regain his speed.
He had no idea how Mitchell was doing but he hoped he had taken care of the thralls at the back of the train or they could expect visitors any minute. Flemming shook his head and leaned on Sandra as she lifted him up to the controls. Bullets clanged around them and Harris flew over to the other side of the train, taking a moment to pull Tanner away from the hot metal and lay him on the floor, before sending a burst at the jeep with the Browning. He could see an officer in the passenger seat, and the bastard was smiling as the jeep bounced across a grass verge and closed to within a few feet of the engine compartment.
Harris pulled the trigger again but the gun clicked empty. He scrambled to reload. He saw the Browning line up and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was over. There was no way they could miss. He clenched his muscles as if by doing so he might deflect the bullets.
Falconi braced himself as the jeep bounced over the uneven surface but his blood sang in his veins. I have them, he gloated as he struggled to keep his weapon level. He could see the sparks of the Browning’s heavy ammunition as it struck the metal of the carriage, and he laughed into the wind. There were only four figures in the engine compartment, and two of them were already out of the fight. This was going to be easier than he had thought.
He motioned for the driver to pull closer, and when nothing happened he looked down angrily at the driver. The driver was staring in front of him, ignoring Falconi’s shouted abuse. Falconi felt a strange sensation grip him. On impulse he turned his head to look out in front of the jeep and his blood turned to ice. He had only a moment to prepare a scream but the sound never made it from his lips.
The jeep suddenly disappeared in a fireball, and the ruined remains tumbled end over end, actually pulling ahead of the train for a moment and then hitting a power pylon and stopping dead.
Harris had no idea what had happened, but he wasn’t about to question it. He finished reloading and checked where the other thralls were. Two trucks still followed on this side but both had dropped back to avoid the flaming remains of the jeep. He switched sides and sent a burst at the truck that he had hit earlier, but the driver was ready this time and only swerved a little when the bullets sparked around him.
He looked back at Flemming and Sandra. Sandra was bent over Tanner, and Flemming was pulling and cursing at levers and turning dials as he tried to repair the worst of the damage and coax more speed. Harris left the two of them alone and felt the train pick up speed again. He looked over the fuel compartment but could see nothing but swirling snow and grey smoke. Where was Mitchell?
At that moment Scott Mitchell was easing his way along the roof of the train. The wind bit and snapped at him, freezing his fingers and face as he tried to maintain a grip on the carriage. The force of the wind made it impossible to rise above a crouch, and he found it hard to breathe as smoke from the engine poured back around him and filled his lungs. He couldn’t see anything except for grey smoke and white flecks of snow, and he questioned again why he had decided to do this.
When he had seen the thralls jump onto the back of the train he had acted automatically. The train had still been negotiating the town’s outer limits and the trail of carriages had not straightened out so his vision had been unimpaired. But then the train had hit a straight run and all the smoke and crap from the funnel flew directly back along its length. He would have been better off letting the thralls come to him and let them suffer the choking smog. He passed the gap between the first and second carriages and decided to drop down for some clean air. As soon as he dropped level with the carriage roof the pounding noise and fury of the wind stopped and it was as if he had closed a door. The sound of the wheels clicking on the tracks still assaulted his ears but the mad whistling of the wind was gone. The air still reeked of smoke but there was fresh air too and he gulped gratefully and coughed as the clean air hit his lungs and they tried to expel the grunge.
He looked up and noted that he had quite a good view a few feet in each direction despite the swirling snow. The ground whipped past below him in a blur as the train began to pick up speed. The carriages shook as the wheels trundled over the tracks, but he decided to stay where he was and wait on the thrall invaders to come to him.
It seemed like an age before he saw the head of the first thrall appear above him. He moved slowly and carefully, bent forward to cut through the wind and with his eyes squinted tightly, almost closed, in an effort to keep the smoke and snow from blinding him. Mitchell pressed back against the far carriage as the thrall jumped over the gap and continued on.
Mitchell allowed his XM8 to drop around his back by its sling and then pulled himself up the small ladder onto the roof. Smoke and wind and snow immediately sought him out and his eyes watered terribly under the assault reducing his vision to vague, indistinct shapes. However, there was only one thrall and his shape was easily identifiable against the grey background of the smoke and snow. Mitchell stayed on the ladder and kept low to avoid the worst of the smoke and brought his weapon to bear. The thrall never heard him and arched upwards as the first bullets hit him in the back. Mitchell felt no pity or embarrassment about shooting the creature in the back—the bastards had killed his entire family and he whooped in joy as the thrall slipped and fell from the carriage, disappearing with an almost girlish scream as he dropped into the gloom beneath the train.
Mitchell pulled himself up onto the roof and was about to make his way back along the carriages when he heard a harsh chuckle behind him despite the roar of the wind. He turned and started as a second thrall raised something and slashed outwards towards him. Mitchell had just enough time to see a glint of steel, and then his hands were clutching his throat as he fell to his knees. He was still alive when the thrall kicked him to the side and he felt himself slide off the roof. He lashed out with everything he had left and grabbed at the thrall’s leg. His hand was slippery with his own blood and his weight was already pulling him off the roof, but his grip was that of a desperate man. The thrall kicked at him but the added weight had pulled him off the centre of the roof where the wood had less support. It was old and it gave way with a sharp crack.
Mitchell felt himself fall but held onto his victim, and both figures were caught by the wind and sucked down towards the wheels. There was a brief, agonizing pain and then both figures disappeared under the relentless passage of the train.
Chapter 28
Steele was almost frozen by the time he felt the vampires begin to lose altitude and glide down to the small town below. He had no idea how long he had been in the air but it had felt like a lifetime. The vampires flew so high that the air was like ice and his breathing was painful and labored. His hands were numb, and he had long ago lost feeling in his face. His eyes were frozen into mere slits but he could still see enough to identify the lights and buildings of Von Richelieu’s stronghold.
Von Richelieu liked the heat and had set up his base along the West Coast, taking territories that were well supplied with nuclear power and humans. He had ample access to everything he and his thralls needed to survive for centuries in perfect comfort. In fact, the only downside would be if there was a major earthquake. Even that, though, would not be enough to set him back for long as he could merely move further inland and start again.
The town was large enoug
h to house Von Richelieu’s personal guard, thirty ancient vampires that were religiously loyal to him, seeing him more as a God than a fellow vampire. Von Richelieu’s town lit up the night’s sky for many miles in every direction as his over-abundance of power was flaunted in the faces of those less fortunate vampires surrounding his territory. Steele could see the pens filled with humans as they drew closer. There were thousands of them held in huge cages, far more than Von Richelieu could possibly ever need. The humans slept in the open and small fires dotted the entire expanse of their camp, throwing weak light over the cruel reality of their existence. Steele could see the smaller bodies of children huddled near the fires, naked and skeletal in their cruel treatment. He felt his heart beat with hatred as the reality he had ignored for two years finally tore down the last of the walls he had erected after his sister’s death.
Steele’s skin began to tingle as the warmer air washed over him and, by the time he landed and fell to the ground, his body pulsed painfully as his blood began to sear through him. Much of it was the pain of the blood pumping through parts of his body that had been almost frozen, but his hatred for the vampires, and his own shame, burned painfully within him as he struggled to rise.
“Stay here,” the vampire who had carried him ordered and then strode off to make his report. Steele threw his rucksack over his shoulder and followed the vampire without a word. A thrall stepped in front of him, chest puffed up with his own self-importance, but Steele glared at the soldier. For a moment the thrall held his gaze. But then he seemed to lose some of his height as he saw something in Steele’s eyes that made him reconsider. The thrall dropped his eyes and Steele pushed past him and followed the vampire.
