by Derek Gunn
Harrington frowned.
“Let me explain. Before the vampires came these drugs were widely used for different ailments. Violent mental patients needed high doses of some of these drugs to prevent them from harming themselves or others. As a result, they needed constant care because, with such high doses, they would be unable to function themselves. On the other hand, a patient suffering from depression would need to be able to move about freely and function relatively normally in their day-to-day life while still gaining a benefit from the drugs that targeted their depression. The vampires needed elements of both of these drugs, but there wasn’t one drug that fit the bill, so they combined them.”
“Go on,” Harrington urged.
“You see, these drugs were never meant to be used together because they work against each other in the brain. One allows freedom of movement, but not of thought; the other promotes the opposite. To combine these drugs, one would have to experiment for a long time to get the balance right, and responses would vary for each person. The vampires obviously didn’t have the time or the inclination to worry about this, so they made up a batch and tested it. The dose they decided on is of a much higher strength than is actually needed and, because of this, is actually harmful to the people taking it.”
“How harmful?” Crockett asked leaning forward.
“It’s eventually fatal, I’m afraid.”
There was an audible intake of breath around the table before a number of people started to shout questions. Harrington could see that Smith was unable to cope with the volume or the desperation of the questioners, so he slammed his hand on the table to bring order to the proceedings.
“Is there a time frame for this kind of damage?” he asked when the noise had quieted sufficiently.
Smith caught the question as one would a lifeline. “Yes, there is. Now you must understand that this will be different for everyone--”
“Pat, just tell us,” Harrington prompted.
“About 2 years.”
A gasp rippled around the table.
“I believe that problems will occur in children first because their brains are less developed. Then we will see older people begin to have problems.”
“What kind of problems are we talking about here, Pat,” Harris asked and Smyth pursed his lips as he considered how best to answer the question.
“It won’t be easy on them if that is what you are asking. They will develop severe headaches at first,” Pat replied but kept his eyes firmly focused on the table in front of him. “A short time later, they will begin to bleed from the ears and nose. Their eyes will become bloodshot and burn like fire. The drugs will eventually corrode the brain, almost like an acid and it will take at least a week to die. It would almost be a kindness to kill them from the time the headaches begin.”
“But it’s been nearly two years since the vampires took over,” Crockett said unnecessarily.
“Yes, for some it has most probably already started.”
Chapter 22
The figure hunkered down and scooped up black ash from the ground. He glanced around the square and absently let it pass through his fingers. Dusk was approaching fast and shadows were lengthening around the burnt and broken buildings. The burnt out husk of a helicopter lay buried in the side of an abandoned building to the far west of the square, its tail rotor sticking straight up into the air as if proclaiming defiance. The figure smiled at the destruction around him. His eyes moved constantly, their dull grey colour perfectly complimenting both his personality and name.
“Steele.”
The figure turned in answer and watched Nero approach across the devastated square.
“Up a bit early, aren’t you?” Steele indicated the fading light from the sun and smiled at the vampire, though there was no humour in his eyes.
“After the centuries I’ve lived,” the vampire replied, “I’ve developed immunity to all but strong, direct light.”
“Looks like quite a party you had here, Nero,” Steele commented.
“Do not mistake my patronage for familiarity, human.” Nero sneered, his voice undercut with a hard edge. “We have been made fools of and I do not care for such flippancy. I have brought you here because you have proved successful in the past. Your continued existence is wholly dependent on that continuing success.”
Steele looked hard at the Vampire Lord and betrayed neither remorse nor fear. He hadn’t survived the last two years by giving into these creatures, but he did have to be careful not to go too far. From the beginning he had proven himself more valuable to his masters when in control of his senses than as a helpless zombie. Steele had recognised the signs of defeat early on in the war and began to make plans to ensure his survival in the aftermath.
Steele was most comfortable when he was alone. Relationships had always been hard for him. An abusive father and alcoholic mother certainly hadn’t helped, and he had finally run away at thirteen leaving them to their shouting and violence. He also left his little sister, Catriona, and though he did feel some remorse for this, he also knew that his father would never hurt her like he did him. He wasn’t a pervert, just a mean bastard who took all the rotten things that had happened in his life out on his son.
He had lived on the streets at first, drifting from one end of the country to the other, sometimes working, sometimes stealing what he needed to survive. Five years he had wandered aimlessly, getting involved in more serious crimes as he got older and made contacts in the more lucrative, but shady, end of the market. For the first time in his life, he had money and soon learned that money meant power. He liked power because it allowed him to make his own rules.
His luck had run out when he was eighteen. An armed robbery had gone wrong. The guy with him panicked and shot an off-duty cop. There was no hiding for cop killers. None of his “friends” would touch him; and it wasn’t long before the cops caught up with him. It also didn’t take the jury long to convict him. His lifestyle had given him a callousness and indifference to his fellow man that was immediately obvious and attractive to the men in suits who visited him in prison. They talked about National Security and the need for a certain type of person who could perform certain difficult jobs. Steele really didn’t care; if it got him out of prison he’d go back and kill his own father for them, in fact he’d do that for free. They offered him a deal and he accepted. After three years of muscle tearing and bone breaking training and undercover missions he was a very dangerous man indeed.
He had been told that his parents had died a few months before energy crisis had really taken hold. A car accident he was told. He felt nothing when he had been given the news, no hatred, no sorrow, but he had come looking for his sister who was still only eleven and, rather than let he go into an orphanage, he had taken her with him back to the camp. Not that he had much choice anyway as she kept running away from any homes she had been sent to and kept turning up at his camp demanding to see him. He had requested and received permission for her to live at the camp with him and those had been the happiest times Steele could ever remember.
They had quickly bonded again, despite their long separation, but once the war had started he had been far too busy infiltrating the vampire nests and thrall camps to spend much time with her. He ensured that confusion reigned in the covens and slowed the vampires' inexorable advances by promoting infighting and fearful uncertainty. And while he was out trying to save humanity his little sister had been raped and killed by men in his own platoon. They had tried to cover it up by telling him that she had been involved in a terrible accident and she had been buried in a closed casket before he had returned because they did not know when he would get back from his mission. While it was true that his missions sometimes took far longer than they were originally scheduled for he felt cheated that he had not been at her funeral. This frustration soon turned to guilt for not being there and his superiors noted that his missions were beginning to suffer as he became less focused and more prone to mistakes.
T
o try to bring him back to himself they sent him to counselling and it was at this point that he began to suspect that all was not right with the story of his sister’s death. Everyone he talked to seemed to have the same story. Exactly the same story. It was as if they had learned the words from the same script.
He began to investigate in earnest and a few cracked heads and broken limbs later he finally got to the truth. Four Special Forces grunts had come calling while he was out on a mission. They had been drunk and had decided to stay and have some fun with his sister. Things had gotten out of hand and she had resisted. He had thought her how to defend herself and she had hurt them before they had raped her and knocked her about. They had left her after they had finished and she had died sometime during the night from internal bleeding. Had they called an ambulance she would have survived.
One of the men involved was the son of a General and he had covered up what had happened by abusing his power. Steele had been betrayed all his life and this latest betrayal convinced him that humans were just not worth saving. He had found and killed all of the men involved in the most violent and painful way he could imagine and then he had strolled into the General’s office and beheaded him in front of a delegation from Washington.
He had simply disappeared then, easily escaping the camp using the very training that the army had given him against them. He had been consumed with rage and hatred for his fellow humans and he had infiltrated the nearest thrall camp, made his way through their woefully inadequate guards and announced his presence by throwing the General’s head at the commander’s feet and offering his skills. Over the next few months he forced himself not to think about what he was doing. Each time he killed he did so with a calm ruthlessness but saw only the faces of his sister’s killers with each life that he took. In all the time he had worked for the vampires he had never killed an innocent and always did his best to spare all the women and children he could. Now though, his rage was no longer as consuming as it had been and he had begun to wonder what his sister would think of what he had become. Somehow he didn’t think she would approve.
Steele suddenly shrugged and turned away with a smile. “Okay, boss, what do you want me to do?” he asked of the vampire.
“I want this cell of resistance found and crushed. You can have whatever you need, resources, thralls, anything.”
“Are these the same guys who kicked your ass last month?” Steele asked innocently.
The look Nero gave him was beyond withering, and he wondered briefly if he had finally gone too far. He was surprised to note that he almost wished he had. The last few years had made him tired and lately he had begun to yearn for something, he wasn’t sure what, but he felt empty inside. No, it was more that. He felt incomplete. This sort of thing had never happened to him before. Whatever it was, he didn’t like how it felt. He was aware of pushing his masters that little bit further of late, but couldn’t really bring himself to care.
“You tread a very thin line, human. I hope that you are still smiling at the completion of this mission. If you fail, believe me, I will enjoy watching you beg for death.” With that, Nero stormed off and quickly disappeared in to the growing darkness.
Steele watched him go impassively.
“Are you sure?” Dan Harrington asked incredulously.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Pat Smith replied. “It will have wildly varying time frames depending on people’s metabolisms but, basically, the end result will be the same.”
“Is there a cure?” Crockett asked.
“I’m afraid the only way to reduce the build-up of these chemicals in the brain is to stop taking them. Then, over time, the body will erode the excess.”
The committee was stunned. Silence reigned as people just looked at each other, not quite knowing what they should say. Sandra felt tears in the corner of her eyes when she thought of all the children and their terrible fate.
“Well, at least it answers your question.” Father Reilly broke the silence. Sandra turned to him, relieved to have a new focus. He addressed his comment directly to her father. “You were looking for a goal, something to strive for in the face of our changed circumstances. I believe we have one.”
“What I said at the beginning of this meeting still stands: the thralls will be ready next time …”
“Dan,” Father Reilly interrupted, “children are going to start dying in agony any time now. We can’t save everyone, but if we are going to sit here and let it happen, without at least trying to help those we can. Then what exactly are we fighting for?”
“With all due respect, Father,” her father continued, “for all we know this could be the only free human community left. We must look at the bigger picture and the survival of the human race. We can’t just throw lives away …”
“Dad,” Sandra saw him turn his attention toward her. “What would you do if I was still in there?” She knew that the question was harsher than he deserved, but they couldn’t just ignore this information.
“That’s unfair, Sandra.” She looked into her father’s eyes. She had always seen him as a larger than life figure. Even in the time he wasn’t around, she thought of him as aloof, unfazed by life’s turmoil and steady as a rock against any adversity. As she looked into his eyes now she could see that the pressure of running the community and the decisions he had to make were taking their toll.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered and turned her eyes from his, unable to bear the sadness she saw there any longer.
“Actually, I agree with Dan.” Harris’ss voice was weak. Everyone leaned forward to hear. Sandra was surprised that support for her father had come from Harris. He tended to disagree with him as naturally as breathing.
“We can’t continue as we have up to now. We’ll be slaughtered.” Harris paused to let his words sink in. “The element of surprise is gone, but that doesn’t mean we have to sit here and do nothing. We must adapt, change our strategy. If they expect a frontal assault then we go in the back way. If they expect a small raid, then we attack in force--and the first thing we have to do is blow up the hospital where they produce that shit.”
Steele walked into the barracks and smiled at the frantic activity around him. Thralls rushed everywhere, attempting to repair damage to walls and equipment and get departments re-activated after the assault. He reached out and grabbed a passing thrall.
“Who’s in charge around here?”
“General Evans, sir. He’s over there,” the thrall replied and indicated a large, heavy-set man supervising the erection of an office wall. Steele muttered an appreciative response and approached the General.
“General Evans, I presume.” The general whirled with surprising speed for one so large and, after a second, his face registered recognition.
“So you’re Steele,” he stated. An infectious smile spread across his face. “Your reputation precedes you. Indeed, I’ve even seen some vampires act sheepish at the mention of your name. Welcome to hell.”
Steele smiled, instantly liking this bear of a man. “Thank you, General.”
“Oh, don’t be so formal. It’s Jack.” The general thrust out his hand and enclosed Steele’s in a vice-like grip. “I’m only a general since yesterday when Nero flew into a rage and disembowelled the entire ruling council. Between you and me,” Evans looked from side to side conspiratorially, “I’ll probably only be a general until his next ranting session, so make it quick.”
Steele was shocked at this until he saw Evan’s grin split even wider. “I think I’m going to enjoy working with you, Jack.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Looks like a well orchestrated attack.” Steele indicated the carnage surrounding them.
“Wasn’t it just? You have to admire them don’t you? They timed it well and even took out a tank before getting clean away. Not a trace, I believe.” Evans laughed.
“You don’t seem particularly worried,” Steele observed.
“Well now, Steele, way I see it the vampires ma
y own my body, but my soul still belongs to me. I will follow their orders, God help me, but I don’t have to like them.”
“That’s pretty treasonous talk. I could get you executed for half of what you’ve just said.”
“Yes, you could,” Evans answered, “but I pride myself on the ability to judge a character from the get go, and I reckon I’ve judged you right. There’s also the fact that I couldn’t care less, of course.”
The two men looked at each other for a long time. Steele knew the risk both of them were taking and recognised the force of will this man must have to be able to talk like this despite his thrall to the vampires. Steele had argued when he had met the coven leader a year ago that making him a thrall would inhibit his own effectiveness and ability to infiltrate human camps. The fact that he had been deep inside the Vampire territory before he had been found lent quite a lot of substance to this argument. He had succeeded in convincing the coven and had never been bound to a vampire, but he knew the level of control that the vampires could exert over their thralls. To even think those thoughts, let alone voice them, showed how strong this man’s character was.
Finally, Steele nodded slightly and continued. “The supplies they took will only last them for a short time so we can expect more attacks before long.”
“No doubt. Any ideas on where they’ll hit next.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I noticed from the report that they took a prisoner.”
“Yes,” Evans replied, “one of the technicians from the hospital, that’s where they produce the …”
“Serum,” Steele finished. “Yes, I know.”
Chapter 23
Scott Anderson and Ken Rodgers slipped quietly over the rubble and melted into the shadows of the city. They had been surprised that the hole left from their previous excursion had not been repaired. A board nailed to each jagged end of the wall was the only deterrent. Of course, the thralls were in a much higher state of awareness than ever before, but the three guards had been dispatched easily enough in the end.
