The TV light flashed against the thin cheaply finished walls revealing cracks and an occasional hole about the size of a fist. So Mr. Trailer Trash liked to punch in his walls, huh? Jackie thought she would too if she lived in a place like this. Not that her life was anything better now. She was undead and on the run from the Empire. Why the hell was she even still going along with them? The Empire had vampires too, she'd heard that man say it. The one who was driving the truck now. He seemed important to some of them. To Simon and Ishan for starters.
Maybe after the kill she would start thinking about her future. She stepped into the hallway slowly, letting the purple light wash over her as she continued on into the quaint living room. The man was transfixed on the screen. Plates and bowls with silverware in them were stacked along the small lopsided coffee table in front of him and on the floor beside his chair.
The scent of his blood was taking hold now. She found her body moving forward of its own accord. Before she could stop herself she had her hand gripped over his mouth holding it shut as he screamed into her palm.
Her teeth sank into the hairy flesh of his neck. And then the blood came. In trickles at first, then sips, finally in mouthfuls. Her pupils shrank into pupils again as her chocolate brown irises took shape around them.
The man's boring, uneventful life played out around her in her mind. What a waste. And now it was over. At least she hadn't taken some doctor or important scientist. Not that she expected to find anything of the like in this place. Before long the man was drained, his empty life filling Jackie's body with energy and draining away her thirst just as quickly.
She raised her head and howled up into the air from the excitement of it all. A moment later several other howls rose from a distance in reply. All happy sounds of well-fed vampires enjoying the real hunt for the first time (ever for Jackie) in decades. There was a camaraderie in that howling. All questions of parting ways with the other vampires slipped away at that moment. She let the blood drip from her fangs onto her tongue and enjoyed the taste of the kill.
* * *
They had been traveling West on I-40 in Tennessee for about an hour now. It had been a little difficult finding the highway again, but thanks to the multitude of maps Jonathan had brought, they seemed to be covered. Toby looked out the window at the passing fields and the large rock mounds where the hills had been cut out to make room for the roadway.
The radio was playing something light and pop-ish. They'd been turning it on from time to time the whole trip in order to keep up with what the Empire was doing. Of course the radio stations could only report what the Emperor wanted them to, but he seemed to be just fine with updating the people on what these new vampires of his were doing.
Jonathan had said it was probably to help instill fear in the people. The possibility that Necropolis would no longer be a means of keeping the people in line needed some balance with something new. And these vampires did the trick just fine. Not only were they as deadly as the vampires of Necropolis, but they did what the Emperor told them and they were held at bay by no boundaries.
Already several reports of criminals being drained in public were surfacing. And even though they claimed to be underground reports, they were spreading like wildfire and the Emperor had even corroborated some of it on the air of one Nashville radio station, his voice void of compassion. But Jonathan and Dustin both agreed that this more aggressive control would likely end up backfiring on the Emperor if he kept it up. The people were happy being sheep led along by the staff and the rod, but when you let wolves into the pen, the sheep are liable to run. And people are much more inclined to fight back than sheep are. And these were people after all.
Even if they had been brainwashed into believing they were sheep.
The early morning sun rose in the east reflecting off of the cars ahead as another news report piped in on the radio. "We interrupt this program to bring you up to the minute exclusive coverage of the war against Necropolis. In Arkansas, a truck trailer full of Necropolis vampires was stopped trying to cross over the state line and was intercepted by several Guardians. The Guardians set the trailer on fire, killing the vampires that were inside. The Emperor has issued an official order for all citizens to watch for any trucks marked with the company name Darvender Industries. If you spot one of these vehicles you are to contact your local Imperial authorities immediately.
"In other news..."
Toby's hands had slick with sweat. He stared ahead trying to keep the nagging question in the back of his mind.
"I'm sure your dad wasn't in that truck. If he had been those vampires would have had more than they could have bargained for," Dustin said.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that. I mean, sorry. I mean about being more than they could bargain for, anyway. But yeah, he wasn't in it. The Foederati have a complete list of who was on that truck, came through this morning. I just didn't think to tell you. Sorry," Jonathan said.
Toby sighed with relief.
"Sorry, kid. Sometimes I don't think before I speak. I'm sure your old man can kick some serious ass, but these vampires are some mean mother—um, yeah. You know what I mean. I heard about how he escaped from Necropolis and all that and it's not that I don't think he's kind of a badass or anything, it's just..."
"Don't worry about it. I understand," Toby said. Part of him wanted to believe his father was invincible, but he knew better than that. No one was invincible. The thought of death crept into Toby's mind and he felt that sudden sensation of falling from an immense height. What was there beyond death's door. Toby often wondered. His worst fear was that there was nothing. Nothing at all. Just a black emptiness. A void of no return.
* * *
The smell of sulfur was nearly choking as Hank rounded the corner of a tall brick building that looked to be barely holding itself together. Screams, gunfire, and explosions sounded from nearly every direction. Except one. In that direction there was only the sound of a quickly beating heart.
Toby's.
The boy had been running from Hank and Hank didn't understand why. Up the rubble-littered street, he caught the boy's scent somewhere. Hank ran toward that sweet smell. Longing for it. Wanting it like he'd never wanted anything ever before. What was wrong with him? He couldn't understand the feelings—desires—mixing within him.
Toby's scent grew stronger as Hank came near an open alleyway—one of the few free of debris. A blue dumpster stood on the right, one of its black hatch-like lids wide open and leaning against the red-brick wall behind it. The boy was in there. It was too obvious. The trash and filth inside weren't strong enough to cover up that glorious aroma.
Hank walked up to the dumpster, leaned his body against the cold thick metal of it and reached inside. His hand came up pulling Toby's shirt by the collar, the boy screaming and scratching at Hank's stone-hard fingers. But they just kept on pulling him upward until that sweet pulsing flesh of the boy's smooth neck was at Hank's mouth. His fangs nearly pushed through his lips at the urging to be used. He opened his mouth and then—
The cab of the truck was shaking violently as Hank woke in tears pushing himself backwards suddenly. He'd been trying to stop what was about to happen in his dream. Only it wasn't a dream. He knew the difference now. What Hank had seen was a glimpse of the future. All this time he'd longed so much to protect his son, but who would protect the boy from him?
He'd come to terms with the fact that he had become a killer. That he would have to be even more ruthless on a much larger scale. But what price would he pay to become this great leader? He wouldn't give up his own son. He would rather die and have the Empire carry on even stronger than give up his little boy. The Queen would know what to do. He would ask her. She would tell him. She would have the answer.
Chapter 24
Feeling Around in the Dark
The entire trailer of vampires in Darvender truck #307 awoke as one, and some began to rise, some lay staring at the ceiling, and still others stretched and made the gene
ral sounds of rising from slumber. Simon was one who rose immediately. He no longer had time to stare off idly. The responsibility of many lives had brought his sense of duty to the forefront. The reality of this was accented even more by the fact that he hadn’t been able to hear Ishan’s thoughts for several days now.
The truck was immobile, as Simon had requested it to be around this time every evening. A loud thump came from the back of the trailer and the two doors popped open letting in the warm humid air of the south. Within moments half of the vampires were gone, apparently ready for another night’s hunt. Simon, having never lived as a vampire outside of Necropolis, and not having lived as a vampire for very long so far, found the open spaces intimidating. Like any moment would bring masses of people with pitchforks and torches. Far more likely would be the threat of those other vampires.
Simon walked to the back of the trailer at a human pace and jumped down to the dirt-covered ground behind the truck. The smell of fresh cotton and honeysuckle captured his senses. The truck was pulled off into a wooded area between two large trees and a small creek, from the somewhat distant sound of traffic, not far from a major highway. Beyond the left tree, the larger one by far, a small yellow-and-orange-striped cat was stalking small prey, its paws stepping through the tall blades of grass in utter silence. Its eyes glowed as they turned abruptly to the sounds that Simon made stepping away from the truck. Simon watched the feline for a moment and then turned to go. When he was at the cab, the driver side door was already open and Craig Johanson was sitting sideways, his legs kicking back and forth carelessly from the seat.
“Two more trucks were burned today. Heard it over the horn from Base. Apparently, they didn’t have time to cover up the Darvender stuff and traded off trailers instead. Bastards just followed the trail from the abandoned trailers,” Craig said, and made a loud crunch as he took a bite from a large red apple.
Simon caught himself nearly slobbering as he watched the man eat. A flash of horrible memory came to him. Vampires watching him just as greedily as he choked down a plate of crab legs. He knew now it wasn’t the food that had captured their attention. It was watching their prey eat. Something in the smell of their saliva, and the flash of their teeth and tongue sent a convulsion of bloodlust through their bodies. Simon turned away and looked up to the stars as he regained his focus.
“Werw in Loosana, though,” Craig mumbled as he chewed.
“How far to New Orleans?”
Craig sat up, swallowed and turned around inside the cab of the truck. His voice came hollering back from inside. “Just another 70 miles or so. If your friends don’t take too long we can be there with plenty of time to spare before dawn.”
“Good. Go ahead and get some rest when you’re ready and I’ll have Tobias take over when he comes back from feeding. Thanks for all your help, Craig.”
“Oh, no problem, chief,” Craig said as he turned back to Simon and winked. “We get to the hive, I’ll be good and ready to get this show on the road. Been preparing a long time for this.”
Simon nodded and turned back to the trailer to send any remaining vampires off to the hunt so they could get on the road soon. He was ready to be there. Part of him longed to be near the Queen, but even more importantly the rest of him wanted to be somewhere that felt safe. And the hive was as good a place as any. Stepping up into the trailer, Simon realized that not only did he need to get the rest of the vampires moving if they were going to hunt, he could also no longer hold back his own need. It was time for his second feeding. There would be no more delay. The times of hesitation would need to stay behind him. Now that he knew how much he truly wanted to live.
Vampire or not.
* * *
What was the first thing George Nelson realized when he got home with the little book? He needed allies. He needed to surround himself with others who had a similar goal. He needed to find other people willing to fight by his side. But how do you look for a traitor when nearly everything that happens is overseen by the government? So, George started to do some research. He was very good at research. In fact his skills in researching were a big part of how he got the job working for Caesar in the first place. How ironic would it be, George wondered, if those very skills helped to bring the Emperor down to his knees?
A thin cool breeze hit George as he stepped down from the bus onto the sidewalk. A couple of impatient kids that had been waiting at the bus stop nearly knocked him out of the way as they jumped onto the rubber staircase of the bus. George shrugged them off and started east toward Jefferson Street at the next block. The gray clouds and damp concrete were nearly enough to drain the life from George's spirit. He put his hands in the deep pockets of his trench coat to warm them, trying to keep ahead of the game.
After all, he was doing the Lord's work—not the work of this blasphemous wolf in sheep's clothing—the true Lord's work. This was George's calling and he would accept it with humbleness and if the Lord willed for him to suffer in carrying it out then George would duly suffer and his deed would be done. Amen.
George nearly slid into the street as he turned on the wet-brown sidewalk at Jefferson. The alley was lined with two-story dark red-brick apartments each with narrow brown stairways extending down to the sidewalk. He slipped his hand inside his coat and ran his fingers across the damaged pages of the small book just to make sure it was still there. Quickly, he pulled the coat tightly around his body and shoved both hands back into his pockets.
The fourth apartment down caught his eye. There was a young girl, maybe four or five years old, half-dressed, drenched, and playing at the top of the stairs. He wanted to ask the poor girl where her dreadful parents were. Why they would leave her outside unsupervised on such a cold dreary day. But he swallowed instead and kept walking, knowing if he did take the time to do such a thing, he would miss his appointment. And this man he was supposed to meet—Charlie Duncan—he was not the type of man you kept waiting for long, if at all.
A few more stairways further, a dark narrow alleyway hid in between the red brick apartment building and a second darker blue one just like Charlie said it would. George slowed to a stop, looked across the street then behind him, and when he was fairly sure he wasn't being followed, he stepped into that dark wet opening, a puddle splashing under his foot. The deeper within he walked, the more the sunlight shriveled away and the outside world became an echo somewhere behind George.
He had already worked for what he'd come to believe might be the devil incarnate, and yet he was afraid of the people he would now have to deal with. What were some simple street thugs compared to such a vicious demon?
Up ahead the vibration of bass leaking out along the ground and walls from one of the nearby doors caught George's attention. A moment later that same door came bustling open and a man blasted out and landed face and shoulders first into the far wall and then fell into a heap.
"And don't you fuckin' come back here without no money, motherfucka, ya hear?" a thick black man said, staring down at the crumpled man. The bouncer had long hair pulled back tight into a ponytail, a toothpick in his mouth, and a thick brown aviator's jacket that was far too big on him. The poor soul on the ground only moaned in reply. The man with the ponytail went to go back inside when he noticed George standing there and staring. He gazed back at George like a vicious dog ready to bite.
"Watchoo want, ol' man? What the fuck you doin' back here?"
George held together his nerve and stuttered out some words.
"Charlie... Duncan... appointment..."
The man with the ponytail's snarl became a huge grin and he laughed wildly, his head tossing back over his shoulders in an exaggerated display of hilarity. "What's an ol' motha' fucka' like you doin' lookin' for Charlie Duncan? Mu’fucka, you look like you late fo’ church." He continued to burst with laughter. Each cackle only added to the tension in George's shoulders. He wanted to turn and run more and more with each second.
The man stopped laughing finally and sighed long a
nd hard still grinning from ear to ear. "I'm sorry, gramps, we don't get many ol' folks in here. Come on, let's get you in and out of here in time for lights out at the nursing home." He snickered again, holding his arms in a "you first" gesture toward the door.
George stepped forward and hesitated in front of the entrance not wanting to take his eyes off of the man with the ponytail. There was a push and the next thing he knew he was catching himself against the wall inside. The ponytail man's hands slapped against his back to shove him again and George had just had enough.
"Take your hands off me. I can walk on my own without any help from you."
The ponytail man's smile smeared from his face. "All right then, gramps. Get to fuckin' movin' then." He spit the toothpick out of his mouth on the floor and looked back up at George. George turned and walked at a steady pace, putting extra force into each step. He wasn't going to be bullied around by some thug less than a third his age.
The thunder of bass grew louder as George made his way. Eventually some amber light crept in and led them out to a big open room that looked like the main part of a bar or club. All around, people sat at round tables playing games of cards and drinking from small clear glasses filled with ice and various colored liquids from dark black to a color matching the yellow overhead lights.
Half a dozen or so red-cushioned booths lined the walls at both sides of the room also filled with people playing different kinds of games, drinking beverages or eating hot steaming greasy meals. George stood in the middle of the room just taking it all in when ponytail man tapped his shoulder much more respectfully than his previous interactions.
"You lookin' for Charlie, you'll have to wait here. I'll go talk to boss man myself and make sure this appointment is still on. You stay right here and don't go anywhere, ya hear?"
Empire of Blood (Book 2): Fading In Darkness Page 15
