Vampire Apocalypse: Fallout (Book 3)

by Derek Gunn

  The crowd began to chant, and it took Harris a while to make out what they were saying and a cold fear gripped his stomach. They were shouting for blood. Banishment wasn’t going to be enough. They had been pushed too far, Phelps had appealed to their basest fears and instincts, and now they were responding in kind. Harris went pale as the chant grew louder in some sections in the crowd. Others seemed to be shouting in anger at other elements in the crowd and the whole room threatened to blow.

  “That is enough.” Harris was surprised to see Phelps step forward and calm the crowd. “We are not here to kill one of our own like a rabid mob. We are here only for justice. I will not condone such behaviour. This man,” he pointed toward Harris, “may have acted rashly and against our better judgement, but he did act the way he thought was right. If I thought he could restrain himself from rescuing more people I would happily keep him among us, but I know him too well.”

  The crowd cheered Phelps for his charity and Harris began to wonder how much of this was staged and how much was just blind luck and good crowd management.

  “Harris,” Phelps continued, “it is with regret that I now pass sentence on you.” He looked over at Regan as if daring him to interrupt, but Regan knew when a crowd was beyond salvation and he remained quiet. “You will be removed from this community this very night, never to return. May God have mercy on your soul.”

  The crowd cheered and Phelps began to move to the side, waving to the crowd as he lapped up their applause. But not everything was to go as he had planned that night.

  Sandra Harrington stepped forward. “I will stand with Peter Harris.” The shouting stopped suddenly and Phelps found himself halfway across the platform with his hands still raised in triumph but with no applause to help him on his way. Harris moved to her side and tried to speak but she merely slid her hand into his and gave a tight squeeze, warning him to remain quiet.

  “My dear,” Phelps began, “there is no need…”

  “I too stand with Harris.” Philip Warkowski pushed his way through the crowd and lumbered up the steps with a snort of disgust and a baleful glare at the crowd.

  “Mister Warkowski,” Phelps assured him, “your part in Harris’ actions is not in question here. You are a valued member …”

  Phelps suddenly stopped in mid-sentence as he saw Warkowski looking at him with a quizzical expression.

  “What are you looking at?” he stammered and licked his lips nervously, uncomfortable with the big man’s glare.

  The huge man merely shrugged and replied. “I was trying to determine whose side you’re on, Mr. Phelps, and the answer does not fill me with confidence. You are sending this man alone into hell and I, for one, am happy to follow him there rather than remain where travesties like this can be allowed to happen.” Warkowski had never spoken more than a few words at any time before and this speech surprised everyone. “It has been his courage and passion which has allowed this community to flourish in the first place and it is your brand of hatred which will see it fall. You have twisted the truth tonight for your own ends and these people will see through you at some point. I pray it is before they live to regret it.”

  Silence descended over the meeting room and then Phelps coughed nervously and licked at his dry lips. “Surely you won’t subject your family to this, man. I mean, it’s …”

  “Certain death,” Warkowski interrupted with a raised eyebrow and Phelps lowered his eyes. No one had actually talked about what banishment would actually mean. No one had come out and called it a death sentence and Warkowski’s words had hit everyone hard. Phelps immediately offered a place in the community for all family members, regardless of the decision of any other members of their family, but Warkowski’s wife pushed through the crowd with their daughter’s hand held firmly in hers.

  “Mr. Phelps,” she announced as she crossed to her husband. “We are a family. Peter Harris and his team risked their lives to rescue my husband and he, in turn, crossed a city infested with vampires to rescue us. How can any of you expect us to abandon either of them? Shame on you. Shame on all of you.” Some elements of the crowd cheered her words and others shouted at those who cheered. People began to push as the crowd began to fragment into niches that reflected their differing views. Ian Phelps raised his hands to try and regain control, but just then April Cassavettes pushed her way through the crowd and made her way up the steps.

  She was totally unaware that her appearance had caused everyone to stop. She had not heard the shouting that preceded her appearance, nor noticed the silence that fell over the room as she made her way to the stage. Her diminutive size and determined expression made many blush with embarrassment. Harris immediately signed to her to stay but she responded with a blistering flurry of sign that few could follow, though her steely expression left nobody with any doubt as to her meaning.

  It had been a little like picking sides for a game when you are young as Harris and his small group stood defiantly to the side and waited for anyone who wanted to join them to come forward. Pat Smyth came forward but Harris had placed his hand on his friend’s shoulders and asked him to stay, his research was just too important and there would be no facilities where they were going. The little man tried hard to argue but Harris was firm and, reluctantly, Pat returned to the community, though, in an act of defiance, he remained apart from the main crowd.

  Father Reilly moved toward Harris as well, and a gasp of shock rippled through the community. He was still their only priest and his previous injuries still plagued him. His face was grey but determined as he crossed to the smaller group. Harris had been honoured that he had chosen to join them but, again, he had been forced to refuse his help. The community needed him too much.

  Denis Johnson was the biggest surprise. The man moved forward confidently, his brightly coloured shirt almost glowing in its intensity against his dark skin. Harris had been too shocked to refuse the man. He didn’t know Johnson very well, though his actions since he had been voted on to the previous committee had proven to be fair and well thought out.

  As a current serving member on the council, his loss would only work for Phelps as Regan could now vote his own choice to the council. This would leave only Father Reilly and Lucy Irvine remaining who would have any sympathy toward Harris and his small group. This worried Harris greatly, but he did not argue with the big man. Instead he smiled warmly and shook Johnson’s hand. Both men knew the risks involved in taking this step but sometimes you just had to go with the flow.

  The addition of Johnson led to three more people coming forward, two men and one woman. The woman made it quite clear where she stood as she crossed and stood beside Johnson and slipped her hand in his. She gave him a quizzical look that led Harris to wonder if Johnson had really thought through what he was doing. His partner was obviously as surprised as Harris had been, though, to her credit, she had made her own decision quickly enough. She was a striking woman with short hair that fell to her shoulders and curled inwards to frame her face. Her eyes were almost cobalt and blazed with an intensity that was only heightened by her soft, chocolate skin.

  Her name was Delilah Franklin and Harris had known that Johnson and she had hooked up together, though her immediate reaction to his joining Harris’s group indicated how serious they were. One of the men was her brother Benjamin, never Ben, Harris remembered as the joking just never stopped with people carrying old $100 notes and asking the young man why his picture didn’t match his actual appearance.

  It had been funny for a while, but then it had worn thin and Benjamin had announced that he would prefer to be addressed as Benjamin. However, the level of fun people had with him was as nothing compared to when his sister walked into a room and people broke into spontaneous renditions of “Why Why Why Delilah?,” so he had taken the fun with good nature.

  He had been training with Harris since he had been weaned off the serum. He and his sister had been among those rescued a month or so before the huge rescue so they had already found their
feet in the community but were not there so long that they had formed strong ties. He had been a state trooper before the vampires had come, though at twenty-two he had only just joined the force. He was good at taking orders but still walked, or strutted, as any young man would who thought themselves indestructible. The other man was unknown to Harris but he seemed to be following Benjamin’s lead. His broad shoulders and huge muscled arms would be a great help, so Harris wasn’t concerned as to his motivations. Just as they were about to leave there was a commotion at the back of the room and raised voices caused everyone to turn.

  “You can’t go,” they heard a high-pitched voice plead, and then a young boy pushed through and looked defiantly at Phelps for a moment before he continued up the steps and joined the small group. The boy couldn’t have been more than fifteen and Harris searched his memory for the boy’s name, something like Rick, he thought, but wasn’t sure. The boy was an orphan, or at least his parents hadn’t been found yet, though they could still be alive somewhere.

  “Ricks,” a girl of around the same age finally made her way though the main throng of people until she stood half way between the two groups. She stopped suddenly as if unsure what to do next.

  “Conor,” she repeated more softly, “you can’t go. You’ll be killed.” The girl pleaded but seemed unable to move any further toward him. Just then a number of other children between the ages of thirteen and seventeen made their way though the main group and stood with the young girl.

  “I have to,” Ricks answered her. “Harris is the only one likely to rescue any more people and my parents are still out there.” He lifted his hands as if he was about to speak again and then dropped them in frustration when he couldn’t find the words he was looking for.

  “I have to,” he repeated with a sigh. “As long as there’s a chance.” He shrugged and looked at the girl and the faces of those standing behind her.

  There was a shocked rumble in the room as the young man’s words hit a chord.

  “Conor Ricks, you’re too young to fight the vampires,” the girl argued and then turned to Phelps as her face lit up, “Mr. Phelps, tell him you’ll continue to look for his parents.”

  Phelps looked as if he’d been slapped in the face and an awkward silence descended over the room. Harris turned to the young man who now stood before him.

  “Son,” he began as he looked the boy in the eyes. “I can’t promise to find your parents. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Maybe not,” the boy sighed, “but I bet you’ll at least try, won’t you?”

  Harris looked into the boy’s eyes. He should lie, he knew, he should tell this boy that he wouldn’t look for his parents and get him to stay with the community. But there had been enough lies told already and he had had enough.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I’ll keep looking until I find them or die trying.”

  “That’s enough for me,” the boy replied. “I want to help.”

  “Glad to have you, Conor.”

  “Ricks,” the boy interrupted politely, but forcefully, and Harris nodded.

  “No,” the girl sobbed and a single tear began to roll down her cheek. Ricks walked back to the steps and crossed to the girl, where he put his arms around her awkwardly. She leaned against him and Harris noticed that one of the other boys began to move forward but was held back by a much larger boy. The rest of the room remained silent as the scene played out.

  “Hey, Emma,” he said softly and she looked up at him.

  “You’ve never called me Emma before,” she said quietly and Harris felt a sudden embarrassment at listening to such an intimate moment.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  The moment stretched on, and then the girl suddenly leaned up and kissed him on the lips.

  “You’d better or I’ll kill you myself,” she smiled bravely and then turned to join her friends. Ricks returned to the platform. A woman who was probably the girl’s mother pushed through and put a hand awkwardly on her shoulder and Harris wondered if it was more an action of restraint rather than consolation. After that four more men came forward, all of them current trainees for Harris’s expeditionary force.

  “Geez, if the kid can go, how can we stay?’ one of the men said simply as he smiled at Harris and moved to join the others. And that had been it. In all, fourteen of them had left that night, though those who were left did not feel quite so righteous as they had expected to feel. The worried expression that Phelps had worn as he watched the small group leave, his tongue constantly wetting his lips like a demented lizard, had almost been worth it. The community too had been split, with many unsure whether the punishment was truly fitting. Harris had though he could see a rift forming even as he watched and then he had turned and walked out with his small band following.

  Harris had left in a daze that night. He could admit to himself now that he had had no idea where he and his small band of exiles could go as they left the city, but he was certain of one thing: Ian Phelps had just risen to his number one suspect for the traitor that threatened all their lives. He had wanted to counter Phelps’s arguments with the revelation that there was a traitor amongst them but it hadn’t been the time. For one thing, he would have been asked where his knowledge came from and, having to admit that a vampire had told him, even if that vampire had been Steele, would only have made him seem petty. And that would have only weakened his position further.

  He could not even use the fact that Von Richelieu had already known of their existence before Steele had reached him because, quite simply, he would not have been believed. It would have been seen as a desperate gamble and one that would only have alerted the traitor that his own existence was already known. No, he would have to take his defeat in this battle and prepare for the next round. He must keep his knowledge of the traitor a secret for now, especially when he still had no idea what the traitor’s motivation might be or even why Von Richelieu had allowed them to live all this time.

  Only Sandra, Pat Smyth, Father Reilly and Warkowski knew anything about the traitor and he planned on keeping it that way. He would keep an eye on the community and wait for the bastard to make a mistake, and then he’d pounce. The community may have turned their back on him but he had no intention of leaving them to their fate. There was something playing out here that he didn’t understand as yet. Did Von Richelieu really want to cull the numbers of vampires in the world and was he prepared to let millions of humans die in agony to ensure this happened?

  He wasn’t even sure if the traitor had already given away their actual location or just their existence. The community should move to be on the safe side but to do so with the traitor still amongst them was folly. And Von Richelieu obviously didn’t want them dead quite yet. He had something planned for this community. Though what it might be was beyond him at the moment.

  God, he thought. What a tangled web it had all become. He and his small group had set up camp just outside of the main city in a nearby suburb that was still within the protection of the wireless network. He had spent most of the night alone while the others got to know each other. It wasn’t that he was rude to them, but all could see that he had a lot of thinking to do so they had quietly introduced themselves to the group and settled down while he had sat away from them and considered his options.

  Their first problem was shelter. There were plenty of houses, of course, but the vampires would sense them in no time if they merely moved into the first house they found. They could not stay within the protection of the wireless network either or they would risk some form of action from the community. Harris had been over most of the state in the last year both before they had defeated Nero and during their expansion after his demise. There were many other settlements within what had been Nero’s territory but they had left these alone up till now.

  While it had made some sense to tackle these before moving into Von Kruger’s or Wentworth’s territories he had decided that the situation they were in at that time was both unique and time sensi
tive. He had thought that they could save far more people if they could set the states against each other, and he had been right, as it turned out.

  There was, of course, the chance that these other communities within Nero’s territory would, at some point, attempt to contact their now dead leader, but their extensive questioning of Nero’s defeated thralls had left Harris and the others happy that there had been little contact between the communities within Nero’s state when he had been in control. They shouldn’t notice anything untoward with the current situation, at least for a while yet.

  But their existence did, however, restrict Harris and his small group in how far they could actually travel from the community before they ran the risk of entering another vampire’s territory. His decision, therefore, somewhat reluctantly due to the memories that would be there for all of them, was to return to ‘The Cave’ where their last stand against Nero had taken place.

  The fact that it was underground would shield them from the vampires’ senses and it would keep them close enough to the community that they could return if they were needed. It also had the benefit of hidden areas where gardens were already ready for planting. It would take a huge cleanup effort before it would be comfortable, but it did make the most sense. Harris had already made a start on the cleanup of the Cave over the last few months without the knowledge of anyone else. He had long ago decided that their survival might very well depend on backup plans being made, and he had a number of caches of weapons and some small food supplies dotted around the city in case they were needed, although, even in his worst nightmares, he had never envisioned the situation he now found himself in.

  The Cave was far too big for the small team as it was, but it did give them somewhere to go while they took stock and made some decisions.

  The chatter of gunfire brought him back to reality like a slap. The battle had begun.