Megan moved close beside him, he felt the warmth of body pressed against his side as they both stared out into the grey, misty air.
‘I know what you mean,’ she said, shrugging, ‘I suppose one day we’ll get used to it… that’s evolution for you.’
‘Well for one, I hope we never do,’ Jake’s response contained an unmistakable edge of bitterness and he felt her tense slightly, ‘I’d like to remember that it wasn’t always this way. I have to believe that one day, somehow, it might be different.’
Megan didn’t respond. The latent anger in his tone was something that still took her by surprise, regardless of how many times she heard it. It made her wonder if Jake would ever find peace from his nightmares, whether he’d ever come to terms with his life, however dark and painful it was.
‘Where’s Trent and your father?’ he asked, seemingly oblivious to the effect his response had caused.
Megan turned, looked up into his face as if trying to read his thoughts. At first Jake tried to avoid her gaze, choosing instead to stare resolutely into the bottom of the battered tin mug, but he couldn’t for long and so he turned, briefly looking down into those dark brown, questioning eyes. For a second neither of them spoke, lost in the moment.
Megan hesitated. She wanted desperately to ask him about the nightmares but knew, as always, that he wouldn’t talk about them anyway, so instead she just answered his question, ‘the crypt, where else?’ She looked back into the mist.
‘I suppose Max is there, too?’
‘I guess,’ she sighed, ‘Jake you know, perhaps you should...’
Jake threw her a sideway glance and watched as Megan shrugged. He desperately wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure how to. He wondered if he’d ever be able to explain how he truly felt to her.
‘How’s the school coming along?’ he asked, changing the subject quickly.
‘Good actually, it makes me feel I’m doing something that really makes a difference.’
The pride in her voice was obvious, it made Jake feel warm for a second, ‘that’s because you are,’ he said with real conviction.
For a minute they both stood side by side lost in their own thoughts, before Megan once again broke the silence.
‘How’s the drink?’ she asked.
Jake smiled, ‘good, thanks, as always.’
He took a last swig, draining the remnants and handed her back the mug. It was a ritual they repeated each morning. Whatever time he woke, Megan always seemed to be there. He suddenly realised that he wasn’t sure what he’d do without her and a finger of fear streaked through him.
‘I’d better get going,’ he muttered and with a last smile he turned to walk away.
‘Jake?’ Megan called out softly behind him.
He turned. She hesitated, and then simply shook her head. ‘Nothing…’ she said, ‘…don’t worry.’
Megan watched as he walked away with his head down, and her heart felt heavy as she tried to imagine the terrors he’d been through.
The community Jake now lived in consisted mostly of a ragtag group of survivors together with a handful of escapees. The survivors had chosen to try and create a new beginning, a new life, rather than become enslaved by the demons that had risen from the ashes of the war to take control of the City of New York; their City. The escapees were the lucky few that escaped from these demons.
Their community was one of a scant number that had sprung up in the surrounding areas of Brooklyn, Queens and New Jersey. In order to survive they had learnt to keep a low profile and not to cause any problems to the vampires that now ran New York City. In return they found they had been mainly left alone. But things were changing.
The community was now around seventy strong and they had already created an impressive infrastructure including a council to make decisions, a church for much needed prayer and a school for the children.
The school was Megan’s idea and passion and she taught there daily. In fact it was Megan that had been the driving force in setting the school up in the first place. It was situated in the remains of a small neighbourhood primary school right in the centre of what they considered to be ‘their area’. But it hadn’t been easy. At the start, Megan had needed to fight to get the Council’s agreement, even though Megan’s father was the Council Chief. The Council had been split, concerned that large gatherings were dangerous and preferring children to be schooled a home. One or two had even the queried the importance, questioning the value in a world where the most important skill was simply staying alive, a world where they were now the outsiders looking in.
But Megan had won out, arguing strongly and pervasively that they needed the structure, needed to learn social skills and needed to learn what had gone before the death and destruction that was all some now knew. She has said that it was essential if they were to have a future, lest they all become animals themselves. Finally, after much arguing, the Council agreed and she had worked tirelessly ever since to deliver not only a safe environment that their children could learn in, but also a structured curriculum that balanced academic subjects with the practical lessons needed to survive in the world they lived.
The Council was where all major decisions were now made. It had been set up to manage their small, but growing, society and to try and stop the endless arguments about what was, and what wasn’t important, arguments that had seemed to define the early days of their lives. It was made up of a small elected committee, consisting of five members, of which Jake was now one. But times were becoming more strained and Jake new it. There was a rift that was beginning to grow between its members, and the feeling of dissatisfaction with the status quo was becoming stronger by the day.
Security continued to be a major issue, not only had they to remain hidden from the vampires, a task that had become more and more difficult over the past months due to a dramatic increase in what were known as search and destroy parties, but there were other risks too. Perhaps the most disappointing were the ad hoc raids carried out by other survivors from the other groups and clans that had grown up on the outskirts of the city.
Food had become a scarce resource. So there were only limited choices: steal from the vampire’s in the city, with all the associated risks, or find a way to grow your own, something that was easier said than done in the inhospitable landscape created by the Great War.
However, against the odds, this is exactly what Jake’s community had managed to do. Together they had recently started a small food production facility in an old abandoned warehouse. The output provided much of what they needed and the rest was obtained from the insurgent attacks on the vampire stronghold where they stole the rest of what they needed. But only what they needed.
However there were others, as there had been for time immemorial, that decided there was a third option; one where it was easier to steal, by force, from those that had, rather than struggle to support their own. There now seemed to be an ever increasing number of bandits and lawless individuals that had grouped together to take the easy option of stealing and sometimes worse, rather than try and build a viable, sustainable community.
Then there were the dangers that lay further out. Although not common, they had heard news of the things that lived, if that were the right word, on the fringes; things that might once have been human, but that were now far less so. This meant that they had to spend time watching not only the city, but also remain aware of possible attacks that came from all sides, at all times. It brought a level of nervousness and unease that threatened to become almost unbearable.
It was with some of these thoughts running through his mind that Jake headed through the back streets, unconsciously always checking his surroundings, always careful that he was not being followed, just in case, towards the church, that sat right at the centre of their community, and the crypt within.
Chapter 3
The Crypt
It was inky dark in the Crypt, the large space only being lit by two old oil lamps that provided nothing more
than a feeble attempt at illumination. Angry shadows flickered across the walls and the heavy wooden door that sat far away and almost out of sight in the darkness at one end. In the middle of the room was a large stone tomb, covered with maps and other debris that was currently acting as a makeshift, if somewhat inappropriate, table.
Around this makeshift table, oblivious to the heresy, were clustered four men, like phantoms in the lamplight. Acrid smoke hung in the dense air, generated by a tall wiry man holding a cigarette loosely in one hand as he spoke. He stood at just over six feet two, but was so thin he appeared much taller. His hair was pulled tightly back into a greasy ponytail that was tied with a thin coil of silver wire. He went by the name of Lano and as he spoke he was unable to keep an edge of frustration out of his voice.
‘Look Nathan, I’m just saying that I think Max has a point. Things are getting worse, much worse. We’ve had three attempted raids this month alone. More than we used to get in perhaps a year. Something's changed I tell you. Something’s spooked them, real bad. So maybe it is time we took the fight to them, rather than just wait for the inevitable.’
When he spoke he addressed his remarks to floor although they were clearly intended for the man that stood directly opposite him.
The man that he couldn’t quite look in the eye was Nathan. He stood at the other end of the tomb, watching Lano closely and listening quietly, his pale and intelligent eyes not moving from Lano’s face once. It was this calm dispassionate, unwavering stare that had the effect of ensuring Lano’s focus stayed resolutely on the thick stone slabs under his feet.
When Lano had finished speaking, Nathan allowed a heavy silence to descend in the crypt. The only sound came from the hungry flames of the old oil lamps as they sucked greedily at the musty air.
Slowly Nathan shifted his stocky frame; he stretched his back, the clicks popping audibly in the damp room. He looked older than his fifty years would have suggested. His hair, which had turned a pure white when he was only in his late teens, was only now beginning to thin. He glanced between Lano and Max, a well-built man standing to Lano’s right. Nathan noted with interest, but not surprise, that it was this man, rather than Lano who waited expectantly for his answer. Max was in his early twenties; his light brown hair was tightly cropped and he watched Nathan closely as he absently chewed on an unlit cigar that hung loosely from the corner of his mouth.
Nathan, having stretched his back, then rubbed his neck slowly before attempting any reply. Finally he looked away from Max and centred his gaze on Lano. His eyes were sad but remained full of power. To look into those eyes was to know instantly that they belonged to someone who had seen much, perhaps too much, in their time.
‘I understand what Max has been saying Lano, but it’s still too dangerous. We’re simply not strong enough yet. Most of our resources are concentrated on protecting what we have and feeding our own.’ He glanced quickly at Max, as if expecting a response before continuing. ‘Look, as long as we all keep our heads down and don’t provoke their wrath, they’ll continue to leave us alone. You know if they ever really felt we posed a viable threat they’d…’
‘- They’d what? There’s not even that many of them left.’ It was Max that spoke now and you could sense the latent anger in his words.
Nathan sighed.
‘Max, you, better than most, know they don’t need that many. If they ever felt we were a real threat, then they’d hunt us down, each and every one of us and then they’d kill us all. Even with the numbers they have.’
‘So we just carry on hiding, is that it?’
‘For the moment, yes, we carry on hiding,’ replied Nathan calmly although his eyes burned brightly, ‘because that way, we might just stay alive.’
‘Alive? For what?’ Max retorted bitterly.
Nathan frowned, ‘Look Max, I know what you’d like to do, but the time just isn’t right. Not yet.’
Max stared at him, his eyes hard. By his side Lano continued his close inspection of the ground, his eyes fixed resolutely on the tips of his shoes.
‘The problem is Nathan, that according to you, it never is.’
Nathan didn’t take his eyes off Max as he responded with a small sigh.
‘Then, Max, perhaps it never is.’
‘You know what I think?’ growled Max, a flush rising in his face.
It was at that moment the forth figure spoke. His voice like gravel as it cut through the air.
‘Everyone knows what you think son. Don’t make you right though’.
Max turned to face the voice. The man that had spoken was known simply as Trent, and he returned the younger man’s stare with steady, cold, ice blue eyes. His weathered face showed every one of his fifty-five years as he broke into a smile, but it was a smile not mirrored in the slightest by those eyes.
Max opened his mouth, and then hesitated, ‘Look Trent…’
Trent’s cold eyes narrowed slightly, daring Max to say another word. He didn’t.
Long seconds passed before Trent continued, ‘At the end of the day, its Nathan who has the final say, and just in case it’s slipped your mind, it’s his leadership that has kept us safe for an awful long time. As far as I’m concerned it’s his call and our job, as the leaders of this community, to support him. That my friend is what’s meant by a democracy.’ He leant forward then, his hands flat to the stone slab, his cold eyes boring deep into Max’s. ‘It’s the little things like that, which make us different from them.’ The last word was spat out, dripping with pure venom and an even, cold hatred.
Trent relaxed his shoulders, stood back, and threw a casual glance toward Nathan.
‘Okay,’ continued Nathan, ‘let’s move on.’
Meanwhile, across town in the old United Nations Building, a different sort of meeting was underway. In stark contrast to the drab, dark, cold and dusty surroundings of the resistance stronghold this meeting took place in what might be best described as worn splendour. Ornate furniture sat sprinkled around, while real electric light, although slightly dim and with a definite flicker, illuminated the faded gold leaf on the cornice.
Two figures stood in deep discussion. Both were vampires, powerfully built, but one was significantly larger than the other. However it was the smaller of the two vampires that commanded by far the greater presence. His name was Karick and he was the vampire Overlord and head of the vampire council. This made him the second most powerful vampire after their overall ruler; Queen Amadus. The massive demon that stood with him was Lord Voltan, Karick’s second in command and his most loyal follower.
Theirs was a friendship that had developed over seventy years before, when they had faced each other in battle. Voltan had been overconfident and completely beaten had almost paid the ultimate price. However, Karick had chosen to let him live, seeing something worth saving and from this strange beginning a fierce loyalty had developed. It was a loyalty that had grown ever stronger over the years and had seen the two of them face many enemies, standing together shoulder to shoulder. Now both trusted each other implicitly and each would give their very lives to protect the other without a moment’s hesitation.
Although the vampire council had been in existence for centuries, it had only been since the War that it had matured into something approaching a formal structure. Originally created to provide support and guidance to the head of the nation, the vampire Queen, it now ran what remained of New York, managing the various programmes required to make a city function.
In truth the Council had originally been designed to provide some element of control against the overbearing dominance of the Queen, who for years, before the Council’s inception, had become almost uncontrollable. Many thought she was insane, but none would speak those words out loud, or even think them in her presence. For centuries she had remained hell bent on starting a war with all of mankind, even though it would have meant certain destruction for the vampires themselves. It had been the council that had managed to resist her blood lust. But that was before
the War. Before the destruction that had ended so much, including Man’s dominance on Earth. Now the Council had different priorities having been tasked with something that it had never imagined before - creating a society, one that could survive and prosper in what remained of the new world.
As Overlord and head of the council, Karick had risen to the task. He was now feared and respected as one of the greatest vampire leaders of all time. However it was no secret that his leadership worried the Queen, many believing she felt threatened. And Karick knew that the Queen’s paranoia had been fed and capitalised on by some of his most determined enemies. Enemies who wanted to unseat him and take power for themselves.
‘You say that more humans have disappeared,’ Karick was saying to Voltan as he shook his head. ‘I think it’s time we had a word with the Mayor. In fact I think it is time that we call a meeting of the full council.’
‘I shall make the necessary arrangements, my Lord,’ replied Voltan in a voice that was both deep and powerful.
Suddenly the doors behind them swung sharply open and both vampires span quickly, their jaws distended, their teeth bared. Voltan’s eyes narrowed and he balled his fists. Behind him Karick relaxed, raising an eyebrow at the pale skinned vampire with long blond hair, his sallow skin stretched over his sharp features, as he entered the room.
‘What is the meaning of this interruption, Rodan?’ hissed Karick, before realising that the interloper was not alone.
Stepping swiftly to one side Rodan bowed his head as a strikingly beautiful female vampire entered behind him. She was pursued by two more female vampires close behind. As she approached, both Karick and Voltan knelt before their Queen.
Her dark hair was silken, lustrous and long. Her sharp features gave her an almost hypnotic beauty as she glided across the room. She was dressed in the richly embroidered and elegant clothes that belonged very much in a bygone era. Slowly she looked between the two bowed figures at her feet.
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