by Alex Dire
“You’re coming with us,” he said.
The frightened vampire nodded. His two companions unclenched their fists. Rufus lowered the man to the ground. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He let out a gasp as his feet reconnected with the Earth.
“They don’t seem so tough to me,” said Rufus. “I think…” Rufus snapped his glance up. Something had drawn his attention to the tops of the giant scrap stacks that surrounded them.
Norman heard it, too. A half-second later, so did everyone else. All the vampires now looked up at the tops of the stacks. Naseem, with his inferior human hearing, looked around at the group for a moment, and then looked up himself.
Norman made out the silhouettes of a large group of vampires along the tops of the garbage stacks all around them. A quick count told him there were probably fifty up there. They must all be vampires. Humans could never climb those stacks so quickly and quietly. Norman noticed one black figure in particular. This one stood out because of the white glow of reflected moonlight on its head, creating a kind of halo.
This was no angel, though. Skeete had joined the pursuit herself. It appeared, in fact, that her whole contingent had showed up for the event, outnumbering Norman’s group by two to one. Ian had underestimated their numbers.
Skeete made herself known. “So rude of you not to accept my invitation to my home, Norman.”
Norman stood, cursing his stupid plan. He wasn’t going to make it back. Who would save his students?
Skeete looked around at the group beneath her. “It looks like you’ve chosen the wrong side again, Norman.”
“I never chose a side.”
“Oh yes, you did.” Skeete and three others leapt to the ground, landing in the center of the circle Norman’s group had formed, right next to Rufus.
Rufus, now outnumbered, crouched and prepared to fight. Skeete stood motionless with her arms crossed as five henchmen charged Rufus. They lifted him up and hurled him into a pile of scrap metal with massive force. His body was driven into a sharp pipe and his head struck an engine block. He dangled from the heap, pierced and out cold.
Skeete turned to Norman. “No more tricks, Norman. The war ends now.”
“The war ended three years ago.”
Before Skeete could respond, it hit him. Skeete hadn’t been exacting revenge for the ravages of war. She was still fighting it. Norman, after all this time, had been dragged into it after all.
How, though, could Skeete possibly carry out the Corps V plan with so few adherents? It would take a huge army to kill or change the billions of humans across the world. Perhaps Corps V.’s goals had changed. Maybe they’d be content with decimating their vampire opponents and lurking in the shadows for the rest of time, taking their rage out on random innocents who ventured too far from the flock alone.
Norman mind contorted around the variables. He didn’t have time to think this through. Whirs and thuds sounded all around him as the rest of Skeete’s group landed amongst Norman’s contingent. Instantly, the sounds of combat surrounded him. He looked around to see his new allies fighting the superior horde. Skeete never took her eyes off Norman.
In a few moments, this would end badly. Norman looked around to see who needed help the most. They all did. He couldn’t help them all. A clang to his left. A scream to his right. Norman put his hands to his head and pulled down on his hair.
“Desperation does not become you Norman,” said Skeete, the corners of her mouth curling up.
Norman dropped his hands to his sides and returned her smile with an icy stare. Then he charged her, running at full-speed. Rage fueled his insane maneuver.
In the instant before he collided, he saw her expression change from certainty to fear. Norman had seen that look before. He saw it the night Skeete had attacked him in Richie Taylor’s room, the night Norman killed her. There it was again. But only for a moment.
His mass collided with Skeete and the two of them flew through the air, crashing through the gates of the scrap yard.
Norman stood first and looked back at the fighting through the fence he’d just smashed open. Then he looked down at Skeete, who lay at his feet.
She wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. “Go ahead and kill me Norman, if you can. It turns out you’re not so good at that.” Her smile returned to her face. “My Corps V will kill your friends anyway. Then they’ll kill you.”
“I’m not going to kill you, Skeete.” Norman looked back at the smashed gates, an escape route. Skeete’s smile faded. Norman shouted back at his friends with all the volume he could muster. “Run!”
28
Fight or Flight
Norman had hoped to create an escape route for his group, but each of them fought desperately to fend off two or three attackers. Norman had cleared the way, but he could see that no one would survive to take it. Should he try to help? Should he flee to rejoin his students? Despair set in.
He looked back down at Skeete, who also saw the scene unfolding. She clearly came to the same realization that Norman had. No one would come charging through that gate to escape. A smug smile returned to her face as she glanced up at Norman and raised an eyebrow. She sat up as words slithered out of her mouth.
“Looks like it’s you and me. Like it was meant to be.”
She always knew how to prick Norman’s anger. Rage and adrenaline threatened to overwhelm Norman’s reason. Norman drew his foot back and released it like a spring into her face. She sailed back six feet as Norman spun around and dashed back to the fight.
As he raced toward the scrap yard, a nagging feeling crept in on him. He’d felt this before. Why had it been so easy to get the best of Skeete, again? She used to be so strong. At many moments in their history, Norman had felt grateful to have Skeete at his side and shuddered at the thought of her as an enemy. But now…
Now, it seemed Norman beat her at every turn. He never should have been able to kill her three years ago in Richie’s room. She should have torn him to pieces during the scuffle in the office and again in the attack on his condo. He should have been killed the moment he charged her at the scrap yard gate. Was she playing with him? Was this part of some plan?
With no time to address the knot of worry in his gut, he sprinted into the scrap yard running right over to Rufus. The soldier had partially regained consciousness as he dangled from several sharp pieces of metal piping.
With a yank, Norman tugged him off the heap. His wounds, now unplugged, spurted blood which pooled on the ground. Norman sat him against the heap and slapped his face.
“Rufus, we need you,” he said.
Rufus’ wounds began to close quickly stemming the flow of blood. Soldiers were chosen, in part, by their exceptional healing abilities. His eyes blinked several times and his pupils returned to normal. The muscles around his mouth tightened in anger. He reached up and grabbed Norman by his collar and thrust him down to the ground by the neck.
The back of Norman’s head hit the ground hard. He hadn’t expected this attack. He began to regret his choice to rouse Rufus.
Rufus sprang up and grabbed the throat of a vampire who had a long, sharpened, wooden pole raised high above his head. Rufus sunk his fingers into the flesh on his neck and yanked out the vampire’s throat. The startled Corps V coughed through what remained of his ruined trachea, spattering blood and gristle on Rufus’ face.
Before the vampire could cough a second time, Rufus ripped the sharpened pole from his hands, turned the point, and thrust it through the attacker’s heart. An unreal scream vomited from the gore of his throat, along with a dark spattering of blood. Rufus lifted the dying vampire up into the air by the pole. His near-lifeless body slid down until it stopped at Rufus’ hands, bringing him face-to-face with his slayer.
“Nice to see you, too” spat Rufus. He then swung the pole around and flung the dead vampire at a group of three Corps V who had teamed up on one of his friends. Bloodlust in his face, he looked back down at Norman.
“Thank
s,” said Norman, still laying on the ground.
Rufus’ stoic look returned as he reached a hand down to help Norman to his feet. “Follow me,” he said, dashing off toward the center of the scrap yard.
Norman struggled to keep pace. As he ran, he saw five bodies on the ground, each surrounded by a widening pool of blood. Four he recognized as members of his group. One must have been Corps V The odds were getting worse. They needed to get out fast, but everyone was heavily engaged in fighting.
Rufus reached a pair of Corps V who had pinned a battered vampire up against a pile of cubed cars. Rufus dropped his stake and picked one vampire up by the neck and leg, holding him over his head. Growling, Rufus brought the wriggling vampire down with a mighty thrust over his knee. The opponent’s back struck Rufus’ knee with a sickening crack. He fell to the ground, bent backwards at an unnatural angle.
Rufus turned his attention to the remaining Corps V. The soldier’s stern face betrayed a hint of a smile. He clearly enjoyed this. The enemy vampire hissed with hate and bared his extended incisors. He leapt at Rufus, reaching for his throat.
Rufus thrust out his arm to meet the airborne opponent and caught him by his face. Two of Rufus’ fingers went through the vampire’s eyes, piercing his brain. His thumb had cracked out several teeth on its way into the mouth. The unconscious vampire dangled by his face from Rufus’ outstretched hand. Blood flowed quickly along Rufus’ arm.
Rufus dropped the incapacitated vampire into a heap on top of the other. He reached to the ground and picked up his sharpened, wooden pole. He raised it above his head and drove it down in two quick thrusts, then tucked the pole under his arm. Blood sprayed for a moment from the holes. The vampires screamed. Then, they were gone.
“Why didn’t you just stake them in the first place?”
Rufus shook some of the blood of his arm. “This way is more fun.”
“We’ll never win at this pace,” said Norman. “We may take a few down with us, but…”
“The more the better,” said Rufus. “That’s good enough for me.”
It wasn’t good enough for Norman. He could probably run and escape the fracas. He could go into hiding again. His students would surely not survive, though. Could he save a few? Maybe. However, the longer he stayed in this fight, the smaller his chances got. At least he had two soldiers on his side.
A scream from the other side of the yard shattered his thought’s. Norman twitched his head toward the sound.
Across the clearing four of Corps. V shoved Seamus onto five or six jagged pipes that protruded from a pile of rusted steel plumbing. They held him in place and beat his face mercilessly. Clearly, their strategy was to take out the military members first. Three other Corps. V lay on the ground in pools of their own blood. Seamus struggled to free himself, but his enemies had stapled him to the pile of scrap.
Rufus dashed off with his spear to save his brother-in-arms.
“No, wait!” shouted Norman as his best chance of survival raced into the thickest part of the battle.
29
Bag of Tricks
From nowhere a vampire leapt in front of Rufus. The new opponent brought an arm down in a shiny blur.
“Rufus growled as his pole-hand was cut from his wrist. Blood pulsed from the stub.
Norman sprang back in pure reflex. The Corps. V vampire held a samurai sword pointed down at the ground. He leapt over Rufus, landed behind him and thrust it through his back.
Rufus looked down at his chest where the point of the shiny blade punched through. He reached to grab it, but the stump where his hand had been merely batted at the blade. His hand had begun to regrow, but it wouldn’t be useful to him for a few minutes. The vampire tried to pull the blade free but it remained lodged in Rufus.
Without the two soldiers, Norman’s group could not survive this fight. Norman sprinted to Rufus, who was batting at his back, attempting to swat off the vampire who still pulled at the sword handle.
From nowhere, someone landed on Norman. He sunk his fangs into Norman’s neck, bit hard and spat out a mouthful of muscle and sinew.
Norman fell to the ground, shrieking. He gripped his hand around the back of his neck as blood spurted from the wound. He knew this wouldn’t kill him, but damn, it hurt. Norman looked up to see a small skinhead standing over him with a homemade wooden knife.
Norman mustered his remaining energy and tried to lift himself off the ground. He fell back in pain. The skinhead wiped his mouth of Norman’s blood and spat.
“Disgusting,” he said.
Norman wondered why assholes always felt the need to say something smug when they’d vanquished their enemies. He saw this all the time in Night School among the many bullies who roamed the halls.
The small indulgence, however, would prove to be this little punk’s undoing. Just as he raised the wooden knife above his head, two large arms grabbed him from behind. They embraced him in a macabre bear-hug. The point of a samurai blade erupted from the left side of the little skinhead’s chest.
Rufus stood there with one vampire dangling from the sword-point stuck through his own chest, and another struggling to hold on to the handle at his back.
Norman scrambled along the ground and grabbed the pole with Rufus’ severed hand still clinging to it. Rufus reached for his belt with his good hand, extracted his wooden assassin’s blade, and in a blur, stabbed twice into the chest of the vampire skewered in front of him. Blood erupted from the wound and the little punk screamed his way into oblivion.
Rufus then bent forward at his waist. The dead vampire slid off the blade and crumpled to the ground. The motion also lifted the vampire on Rufus’ back. He now kicked feebly and held tight to his only weapon, still firmly embedded in Rufus’ back.
The pain in Norman’s neck began to subside. He stood up with the sharpened, wooden pole. He quickly peeled Rufus’ severed hand off and jabbed it like a spear into the back of the Corps V swordsman.
For a brief second, the samurai vampire struggled as if he could fight what was happening to him. Then came that scream. No human could create such a sound. He released his grip on the sword and his weight fell back onto Norman, who collapsed under the load. Norman shoved him off and looked up at Rufus. A new circle of blood spread at his back next to the sword. Norman had stabbed right through the swordsman and nearly pierced Rufus as well.
Rufus reached down to help Norman to his feet. The huge vampire grunted as he moved with the sword still stuck through him. Norman gripped the handle of the blade.
“Make it quick,” said Rufus.
Norman pulled hard and the blade slid out.
Rufus looked over his shoulder. “You nearly staked me.”
“Sorry.”
“Uniforms are hard to come by these days, teacher.” He clenched his newly forming fist. “Are you up for this?”
Norman nodded. They looked back toward Seamus. He had somehow wrenched himself free of the pipes and now three Corps. V vampires held him to the ground. A fourth had a wooden stake and shouted at the others to get out of his way.
Norman knew that in a second, it would be over for Seamus. He’d never get to him in time.
Rufus sprang to action. With a heart healing from a samurai sword-wound and his back recovering from a stake, he charged into combat to save his friend.
Norman chased after him, unable to match the soldier’s speed. As he ran, for a fraction of a second Norman caught a glimpse of Naseem, huddled in a nook in the trash. His little cubby was almost completely dark. Norman could sense his terror. He fumbled at his backpack, fear making his actions less precise. Norman wondered what he hoped to retrieve from his pack that could possibly help him: a stake? This combat was too intense for a human. Perhaps Norman would escape with some of his original group. However, he was certain Naseem would not be among them.
When Norman reached Seamus, Rufus had already lifted an enemy over his head. His good hand grasped the enemy by his hair, balancing the rest of the body on his
still-reforming hand. Rufus attempted to throw him into a column of metal scrap, but the vampire struggled and his wriggling caused him to slide off Rufus’ not-quite-ready new hand.
A Corps. V vampire who’d been holding Seamus down rose to fend off Rufus. Norman kicked him in the head before he could get up. His neck snapped and his head assumed a right angle with his body. He fell to the ground, paralyzed for now.
Rufus still held the stake-wielding vampire dangling by his hair. The Corps. V kicked at Rufus and tried to direct the point of his stake toward Rufus’ chest. Rufus lifted the vampire and twirled him around his head. After two spins, Norman heard a sickening tear. The vampire flew across the yard and tumbled along the ground. Rufus still held the vampire’s scalp in his hand, blood dripping from the bits of muscle and connective tissue on its underside.
A very damaged Seamus, amazingly still conscious, grabbed the foot of a vampire who’d been holding him down. He gave a quick yank and the surprised Corp. V thudded to the ground. Seamus then drew a small, wooden blade of his own. Before Norman could tell what had happened, blood sprayed from the enemy vampire’s chest as he screamed his last breath.
A few feet away, Naseem still hid in the shadows. Norman could make out a few patches of light-colored clothing. He could hear the jiggling of the backpack. Norman wished he’d stay quiet. It was his best chance.
Rufus reached down to help Seamus to his feet with his newly healed hand. Slashes and bloodstains marked Seamus’ ruined uniform. Rufus nodded at Seamus, who returned the gesture. They both turned to Norman.
“We need to gather all we can and make for the exit point,” said Rufus. “You get to the gate. We’ll send any survivors we can your way and follow close behind.”
