by Derek Gunn
John Pritchard approached the three workers who stood rigid with fear and tried to calm them. Jenny White raced around the room and pulled boxes and bottles into a bag, yelping with pleasure when she recognised certain items. Scott moved across to the cardboard boxes and looked down at the large, litre-sized bottles. The green liquid even looked evil. That was the only way he could describe it--evil.
“This bottle contains the single most devastating weapon against humanity,” he said.
By the time the humans had accepted the real threat of the vampires, the creatures had controlled half the country. However, they were, and still remained, a creature of stealth. The vampires were devastating at night; they cleaved their way through flesh and armour with wild abandon. Bullets and grenades proved useless against their ever-increasing numbers. The military wasn’t prepared for such an enemy and lost ground easily to the ravaging horde.
However, the acceptance of this threat, along with increasing public knowledge, finally began to hurt the vampires. A new type of war began to emerge: one of pitched battles with huge numbers on either side. And the humans had the advantage of a full twenty-four-hour day. The fact that the vampires were completely defenceless during the day had really begun to hurt them. Any advances they made at night were quickly lost during the day when they had to retreat to their darkened sanctuaries. Even the introduction of huge numbers of thralls only slowed down the inevitable and the humans had slowly begun to claw back their territory.
That was, of course, before the serum.
The vampires had introduced the serum into the food chain, infecting livestock, food-processing and water sources across the world. The humans never knew what hit them. In the space of a week the battle was over. Humans lost the ability to defend themselves and the vampires simply walled off the cities and carved up the territory between the different clans.
The world as we knew it ended and it was all because of the contents of this bottle. The thought burned inside of him, the anger grew until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “How can you help them?” he shouted the question and crossed to where the two white-coated men stood. “Answer me!” he shouted and lashed out at the bald man.
He had forgotten that he held the machinegun in his hands and Scott hit the man hard in the forehead with the barrel. The man flew backward and crashed into the boxes in the corner. Bottles smashed and the man cried out as broken glass pierced his skin. Still enraged Scott turned on the other man who cowered in the corner. He raised the weapon again.
“Easy,” his brother’s voice cut through the haze and Scott slowly lowered the weapon. “They’re not worth it. Let’s get what we came for and get out before someone comes.”
“I’m afraid it’s way too late for that.”
The voice came from the doorway and everyone turned just in time to see the thralls enter the room.
Chapter 15
“Is that it?” Henshaw asked. He nodded toward the small townhouse at the end of the street.
The area they were in had been an exclusive part of the city once. Set some three miles from what had been the city centre, the area boasted cute, three-storey houses dotted along a tree-lined manicured green, the perfect, relaxing environment to go home to after a hard day’s work.
“Yeah,” answered Harris. Henshaw could see that Harris wasn’t himself. It had taken fifteen minutes to get here since the initial assault and Harris hadn’t spoken once.
Group Nero, spread out across the green, used the trees for cover. The darkness was still dense enough to cover their approach, but the first tendrils of dawn were already beginning to make their presence felt on the horizon. Three thralls patrolled outside Nero’s lair.
“What’s the plan?” Henshaw turned to Harris.
“Plan?” Harris looked blankly at Henshaw.
“Are we going to hit front and back in a coordinated attack or …”
“Nope,” interrupted Harris.
“Then how are we going to get in?”
“We go straight through the front door, of course.” With that Harris rose and strode purposefully toward the house. He reached behind him and brought his machinegun to bear and let loose a sustained hail of bullets.
“Harris!” Henshaw shouted. “Wait you can’t…oh, shit!” He turned to the other team members. “Come on, we’re committed now. Let’s help the crazy son of a bitch.”
Harris burned with rage. The gun in his hands jerked violently and a constant stream of bullets ripped into the three thralls in front of the house. Their bodies flailed wildly with each impact, and Harris merely walked over the corpses while he reloaded and then kicked the front door in.
“Harris!” Henshaw shouted and grabbed him back just as bullets ripped through the air where Harris had been standing. “Harris!” he shouted again, this time shaking him violently and forcing the man to face him. “Getting killed isn’t going to help.” He held Harris tightly in place despite his struggling. “Snap out of it.”
Harris stared into Handsaw’s eyes and slowly the bloodlust receded. Bizarrely, he could see a reflection of his own features in Handsaw’s eyes. The visage reflecting back at him shocked him so much that he suddenly stopped struggling. His face was pale, bloodless even. The lack of colour was further exacerbated by the blackness of his hair, which hung limp and heavy with sweat.
Is that really me? He thought as he stared at the reflection. He shook himself and blinked at Henshaw as if awakening from a dream. “Okay,” he whispered, “I can manage from here.” Henshaw looked a little dubious at first but finally let him go, although he did stay close, Harris noted, just in case.
The sounds of gunfire continued to reverberate around the two men. More team members joined them by the door to shelter from the fire that rained down from the upper storey.
Two of the team lay on the street, blood pooling around their still bodies.
My fault, Harris thought. The rage still burned within him, but this time he would control it and use it to his advantage. He took two grenades from his clip, pulled the pins and lobbed both through the open door. The explosions rocked the entire building. Masonry and debris flew out on to the street.
“Ashley, Kelly, you stay here and watch our backs. The rest of you follow me.”
The scene that met them when they entered was one of total devastation. The spacious hall they entered led to an open living area and kitchen. Furniture lay strewn about and the bodies of three thralls lay limp and bleeding over the broken remains.
“You know the drill, guys,” Harris ordered as he walked through the house. “Check the bodies, make sure they’re dead. Clean out any others. Three upstairs, four down here, and the rest of you find that bastard’s coffin.” Harris snapped out the orders with his usual authority and Henshaw finally relaxed.
“Are you sure he’s here?”
“He was last night. Most of the clan set up in large houses with their own grounds. The thralls patrol during the day, and that’s what made it so easy to track them. Nero, however, is clever. He set up in an ordinary house where no one would expect to look. It took us months to find him and we only stumbled on to this place by pure accident.” Harris spoke while he walked through the house and tapped the walls to check for a basement or false panel.
Suddenly terrible screams came from upstairs. Gunfire erupted and then, just as suddenly, there was silence. Henshaw started to run for the stairs.
“Wait!” Harris warned. He crossed to the door and looked out at the sky. “It can’t be a vampire,” he stated when he saw the bright sky. “Okay, let’s do this in relays of twos. We’re good for ten minutes before we have to pull out.” Henshaw grinned at the irony that Harris was now the one advising caution and then the two of them started up the stairs.
Once they reached the top of the first landing the next team leapfrogged past and entered the first room.
“Clear!” came the shout from within and the next team kicked in the door of the second room. They continued unt
il all of the rooms had been searched.
“Okay, next floor,” Harris ordered.
A dark shape suddenly appeared on the top landing. Harris caught an impression of fur and teeth and a smell of decay, and then the shape launched itself down the stairs. It crashed into Parsons, who had been halfway up the final stairs, and the two bodies tumbled down to the landing. In the small second floor area the group were tightly packed together when the struggling pair came crashing among them. Bodies flew everywhere like pins in a bowling alley and Parsons screamed frantically as the creature tore flesh from bone. The screams stopped suddenly when the creature ripped his throat out, and then Harris saw the creature turn toward them.
The blood that still spurted from Parsons” neck drenched the animal’s chest and face. It growled and pulled back its lips to reveal wickedly sharp teeth that seemed too large for its mouth. It had once been a large dog, but not anymore. Its paws had large talons protruding so far out that the creature rested on their points rather than the paw itself. Harris saw all this in an instant, and then the creature leapt again. Its speed was so great that it seemed to simply disappear.
Men started to scatter, but in the landing’s close confines they merely tripped over each other. Two fell down the stairs. Harris tripped over the severed arm of one of his companions and fell backward into one of the bedrooms. He watched the creature land on top of two other men and then lost sight of it as he hit the floor. The smell of blood and faeces made him gag. He clawed his way back to his feet, only to slip again on the gore that covered the floor. The creature finished gorging on its latest victim and then, as if on cue, turned to face him.
Harris backed up frantically, brought his gun to bear and pulled the trigger. He screamed continually as the gun bucked in his hands, and his finger still gripped the trigger long after he had run out of bullets. The force of the shots threw the creature against the far wall, and blood and gore splattered the surface with sprays of colour. Harris grinned, his face maniacal with fear, blood and triumph.
The landing area was a charnel house; bodies and parts of bodies were everywhere. Harris couldn’t even make out the number of dead in the pale light. Just then the creature stirred and, with a shake of its head, stood up. It was covered in blood, but its wounds were already closing as he watched. Its eyes were deep red and it glared at Harris.
“Jesus!” Harris gasped and backed away further. His foot caught on one of the bodies and he tripped, falling back helplessly as he flailed wildly for something to grab onto. His hands brushed material, the drape, and he grabbed it with all his might to avoid falling. He seemed to hang precariously, as if time itself had stopped, and he thought for a moment that he would be able to steady himself when the creature suddenly sprang into the air and crashed heavily into his chest and sent them both sprawling to the ground. In all the confusion Harris had somehow maintained his grip on the drape as he fell and the material ripped along the rod and dropped heavily to the floor. Light suddenly burst into the room and Harris was forced to shut his eyes. The creature, however, recoiled and yelped with pain as the light washed over it.
Harris was on his back, looking straight up at the thing. Its flesh contracted over the bone and wisps of smoke appeared all over its body. The creature swung its head frantically from side to side; its teeth passing inches from Harris” face but it seemed oblivious to his presence. Harris was too afraid to move in case his movement attracted the thing’s attention but if he stayed where he was he could be torn to shreds with one brush from those teeth. Harris tried to think but the teeth flashing before him seemed to scatter his thoughts. The creature continued to howl as its flesh began to crack and melt in the bright sunlight and then everything went black.
“Harris!” He heard the shout, but it sounded far off at first. He tried to open his eyes but he couldn’t see anything.
“Harris!” It was closer this time, but still faint. He felt hands claw at him, a veil seemed to lift from his eyes, and then he saw Henshaw.
“Christ you’re a mess.” Henshaw smiled down at him and wiped the ichor that had been covering Harris” eyes. The smell hit him then and he nearly passed out from the stench.
“What was that thing?” Harris asked.
“Fucking vicious is what it was,” Henshaw quipped and helped Harris to stand up. “I managed to shoot it in the head but I don’t know if it was the bullet or the sunlight that killed it to be honest.” Harris tried to speak but the horrors of the last few minutes were still too raw in his mind and he merely nodded his thanks and patted Henshaw on the shoulder. He looked around the room and blanched at the scenes that met his gaze.
“How many?” he finally managed and his voice cracked with emotion.
“We’ve got four dead here and two outside,” Henshaw dropped his head. “Kelly and Ashley are still on guard out front.”
“Come on, we have to finish this.”
The two men slowly ascended the stairs, their bodies tense, and ready to react to the slightest movement. On the third level hall they found more carnage.
I didn’t even know their names, Harris thought as he made his way through the gore. “Be careful,” he whispered, “there might be another one of those creatures.”
Of the three rooms on the last floor, the first two turned up empty. The two men were petrified, their clothes were soaked with sweat and their hearts hammered in their chests. Harris pointed to the last door and both men prepared to enter. Henshaw put up three fingers and began to count down by closing each one in turn. On the last count both men kicked the door and barged into the room.
“At last,” Henshaw whispered. The coffin was in the middle of the otherwise empty room. Both men relaxed visibly as they approached the casket. They had finally made it. Henshaw ripped at the drapes covering the only window in the room and almost laughed as the material fell to the ground and the sunlight flooded the room. Both men seemed to take strength from the clean warmth that seemed to banish any lingering evil in the room. They nodded to each other and gripped the lid at each end. The two men, covered in blood and dust, smiled at each other in triumph despite their ordeal. They lifted the cover up, sent it crashing to the floor and looked down.
Empty.
“Bollocks!” Harris swore and then noticed a blinking LED screen at the far end of the coffin.
“Oh, Shit.” Henshaw saw the box at the same time, then saw the display.
5 Seconds.
Harris knew they wouldn’t make it down the stairs. He sprinted toward Henshaw, caught the other man in a low tackle, and continued on to crash through the window behind him. The two men flew through the air just before the room exploded. Dust and debris flew after them as they plummeted the three stories to the garden below.
Chapter 16
Warkowski made his way through the city. The streets were deserted, but he kept to the shadows as much as possible. The sounds of battle raged behind and each gunshot, each scream, tore at him. He didn’t like leaving his position, letting his new friends down, but to be so close to Sarah and Jill and to do nothing was unbearable.
Jill was only nine years old, their pride and joy. Her long fair hair reached down to her waist, despite her many efforts to train it into curls. Warkowski could still see her pretty little face scrunched up, her lips beginning to tremble, as she removed the rollers in the morning only to have any curls fall out. Her hair remained stubbornly straight. She was the image of her mother, the same high cheekbones and deep blue eyes that Warkowski had fallen in love with ten years before when he had first met Sarah.
“I’m coming, Sarah,” he whispered and continued resolutely to their old apartment.
Dawn was beginning to take hold on the city when Warkowski turned the corner into the street. He could see the window to their old apartment and his heart thundered in his chest.
Are they here? Are they alive? The thoughts raced around his head, consumed him, and he picked up the pace. His stomach tied itself in knots and he broke into a r
un. He was so intent on the building that he didn’t notice the patrol until he literally crashed into the first thrall.
The two men tumbled to the ground. Warkowski was totally unprepared for the impact and he felt the air rush from his body when he fell across the thrall. He lay on the ground and sucked air, trying to feed his starved lungs. The thrall recovered quickly and sprang back to his feet with a nimbleness that belied his rather portly physique.
“Look what we have here.” The thrall directed his comment at someone out of Warkowski's field of vision. “We don’t need that,” he said indicating the machine gun, “let’s have a bit of fun.”
“But the alarm, we have to go,” the second thrall complained.
“Don’t worry; this’ll only take a minute.” With that he planted a kick into Warkowski's ribs that lifted him clear off the ground and sent him sprawling against an abandoned car. Warkowski felt a rib break and pain shot through his body. His vision blurred and then he felt himself being lifted by the thrall. “These humans are so frail,” the thrall laughed.
Warkowski coughed up all the phlegm he could muster and spat into the thrall’s face. The spit was laced with blood. He looked up at the window of his apartment. So close, he thought, and then he was flying across the street again. He landed on his face and scraped the skin against the road. Cuts opened all along his cheek and he felt himself lose consciousness.
The thrall laughed and approached him again. Warkowski pressed against the area around his broken rib to make the pain act as an anchor. His head cleared. He watched the thrall approach and steeled himself for one last effort. The second thrall followed the first tentatively, but stayed some ten feet behind.
“Peters, we really have to go. Hammond will feed our guts to the hounds if we don’t report back.” Warkowski listened to the second thrall complain and nearly laughed that the fearsome brute should have such an ordinary name.
