by Paul Cave
Thalamus took a second to gather his strength. “The boy is what this is all about. My master’s strength is also his greatest weakness. He loves the boy – truly loves him – and his plan for an allegiance was in the hope of setting him free, to set the whole world free. You think we are nothing but savages, only interested in the spilling of blood. You’re wrong. We have the ability to care, protect, love, dream. My master will show his people the way forward, we will prosper.”
“It doesn’t sound like his plan is going too well,” Jacob commented.
“There are those who seek to destroy any hope of peace,” Thalamus explained.
Jacob frowned. “Like who?”
“Like Raphael, and others in this army too.”
“What good does this do against all them?” Jacob asked, and held the weapon up.
“It’ll help you to save Ezekiel. Find him and you will find a way to save your people. Trust me – he and your boy hold the key to saving what is left of this battered world we share.”
“I don’t have time for this bullshit,” Jacob grunted.
“Time?” Thalamus began. “If you don’t succeed, time is all you’ll have. An eternity of hunger awaits all those who fail to look further than this night.”
The vampire’s garbled words meant little to the tracker. His thoughts were focused solely on his son and the people of the underground. If Thalamus was right about Raphael’s involvement, then the humans’ fight had just gotten all the more difficult. To defend against one army was desperate; to defend against two would be near-extinction.
Thalamus coughed again and a great globule of red phlegm bubbled and burst from his mouth. He shuddered, as if his body had somehow remembered how to respond to the cold, and then lay still.
Jacob stepped away from the giant’s body, then chambered a round into the weapon. He crouched under a crumpled part of the roof before stepping out into the chaotic maelstrom of battle.
The ground was scattered with broken bodies and the injured, and the soil had begun to turn into a red scab. Screams for help punctuated the night, but most were left writhing in agony, bleeding out and dying alone. The tracker stepped over the dead and dying alike. A vampire, his left arm ending in a bloodied stump just below the elbow, cried for help. The soldier looked barely out of his teens, no more than a boy really, and all alone. The call for assistance sounded disturbingly similar to that of any human. Fear filled its eyes, and Jacob understood instantly it was the fear of being alone.
“Please help,” the injured vampire moaned. Blood pumped from the terrible wound. His other hand clutched at the mess of bone and tissue, but the stream of crimson leaked heavily from between his fingers. The thing’s face looked waxen and drawn - its life’s energy pooling out around it.
“Please,” the young vampire cried again.
Jacob looked around, unwilling to involve himself. His quest was to find his son and then somehow help save his people, not tend the wounds of the ones he loathed.
“Please …”
Jacob became trapped by indecision – what could he do, anyway? The vampire had already lost too much blood, and there was nothing that could save him now. The thing’s eyes looked back pleadingly. It didn’t want to die here in the mud all alone.
“Goddamn it,” Jacob spat. He knelt down beside the vampire. “What can I do?” he asked, knowing the end was near.
“Please,” the vampire said, “take my hand.” Its remaining hand moved away from the stump. The jet of blood had slowed to a trickle. Jacob quickly checked his hand for any cuts or abrasions. He found none so took the soldier’s hand in his. It felt cold and bony.
“Thank you,” the vampire said, and his head slipped sideways as the last of his energy began to ebb away.
“What’s your name, son?” Jacob asked, forcing compassion.
“Jonas,” he replied quietly. Then he forced himself upright and gritted his teeth. They were bright white in contrast to his sickly grey skin. “No,” he said defiantly. “My name is Jason.” He seemed to regain some strength, dragging the last threads of life from his very being. “They,” - he nodded towards the vampires that raced all around them - “They call me Jonas, but my name is Jason.”
“Okay, Jason. Take it easy.”
“I’m dying, aren’t I?” Jason asked.
The tracker began to shake his head, but the look of acceptance in the vampire’s eyes stopped the gesture short. “Yes,” he admitted. “You’re dying.”
The vampire surprised Jacob. He smiled, a soft genuine look of gratitude. “Good,” he said, “I didn’t want to end up like the rest. Killing others so I could live. It’s not right. None of this is right.” He looked around at the terrible world they found themselves trapped in. “I won’t miss this place.”
“You’re going to a better one,” Jacob told him.
“I hope so. God, I hope so.”
The vampire’s grip tightened for a second. The last of his strength slipped away. His hand loosened and fell into his lap. Jacob bowed his head for a second, offering the teenager a moment of silent respect.
Then he stood and looked at the figures around him, from one face to the next. What he found stunned him. Most looked terrified. Not hideous, as he had originally thought. They ran from one position to the next, either trying to take cover from the incoming shells or ducking to avoid gunfire. They were uncoordinated and scared. Not an army of evil bloodsuckers with no morality or sympathy in their veins, but a bedraggled group of individuals desperately trying to survive. Ezekiel’s crazed ramblings of peace for the two races now made sense. Why fight, when peace was the obvious solution for both? Their chances of survival rested on them finding a way to exist together. Not killing each other. In that second, Jacob reached the same point that Ezekiel had. Peace between the two races really was the only guarantee of their continued survival. They must end this confrontation and seek a less destructive solution.
He spun around in search of Elliot. The young tracker was nowhere in sight. Jacob took a deep breath. He would have to leave the safety of his boy in Elliot’s hands. If he couldn’t stop the vampires and humans from killing each other, then there would be no future for his son anyway. He took one last look at the surrounding woodland and made his decision. His son could be anywhere. Elliot had as much skill as he did and, more importantly, a good head start.
Jacob headed towards the front line. There, he expected to find the leader of the vampires, and possibly the only man who could save what was left of the human race.
***
Elliot found himself stunned for a second. Dirt fell out of the sky in a shower of mud and soil. A deep crater had been blown out of the earth less than ten feet in front of him. He climbed to unsteady feet and tried to gather his senses. The cries for help had vanished and in their place, a continuous ringing sounded in his ears. Distant explosions reverberated through the woodlands as the battle continued to rage.
The woods behind him lit up and the trees before him jumped to life as they lurched out towards him with skeletal arms. The flames of the explosions dimmed, the macabre shadows retreated, and the trees once again became lifeless husks. One shadow, however, continued to move. It was this very real threat that Elliot urgently pursued. He bounded through the trees and closed in on the retreating shadow. Another cry for help found its way through the darkness and its urgency spurred the tracker on, making him dive headlong into the wooden labyrinth without caution. His breathing became laboured, but between gulps of air, he heard the snap of twigs and more muffled cries for help. Elliot looked up and saw the dark figure slip gracefully between two large trees. The tracker changed his position and headed to intercept. He tore past the tree to the right and charged down on the dark apparition.
They collided and all three tumbled to the ground. The air in Elliot’s lungs exploded outwards as he landed heavily on his back. For a few desperate seconds he lay there, struggling to draw breath. He bent his head between his legs and forced his l
ungs to pull in oxygen. His chest expanded and the rush of oxygen cleared his head. He looked up to find a tall, lean figure standing over him. A hand rose and Elliot caught the dark glint of gunmetal.
A shadow moved in the corner of his eye. The little boy appeared and his short arms reached out towards the weapon. “NO… Please… ” his young lips cried. The figure flicked his wrist, almost casually, and the barrel of the pistol dealt a glancing blow against the boy’s skull. He dropped heavily into the undergrowth. His plea for mercy died instantly.
Elliot jumped to his feet, but the weapon was jabbed close to his head and the threat pushed him backwards, against a tree. The figure stepped closer, keeping the muzzle close to Elliot’s head. A thin, cruel face broke through the gloom.
“Move and I’ll blow your brains all over the place,” Isaac warned.
Elliot’s hands rose. “Just don’t hurt the boy.”
“I’ll do as I please,” the lean vampire hissed. The look of hatred and spite confirmed his words. His eyes held no mercy or reasoning.
“Where are you taking him?” Elliot dared to ask.
Isaac’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What concern is it of yours?”
“None,” Elliot replied, too abruptly.
Isaac stood back, gathering his thoughts. The lieutenant’s plan to overthrow Ezekiel’s reign had already suffered a huge setback.
Earlier, he and Brother Jeremiah had watched as the prisoners climbed to safety. Both had stood twitching anxiously as their plan neared its conclusion. They expected the last remnants of the human resistance to come fleeing from their hideout and drop to their knees, begging for mercy. Instead a long convoy of trucks broke through the darkness; Isaac’s secret army having done little or no damage to the humans’ numbers. Then, to their horror and dismay, Raphael’s army appeared. Jeremiah turned to his accomplice, ready to ask for guidance, but his questions were drowned out by the scream of artillery. And then Jeremiah was no more. Isaac blinked and the long-haired vampire had disappeared in a flash of fire, along with almost half of his breakaway faction. In one second they’d been standing, about to bask in their victory, and in the next, they were reduced to less than ten men. More shells fell from the dark sky and the lieutenant fled with the cries of his dying men in his ears. In a blind rage, he headed for Ezekiel’s Airstreamer, intent on the vampire leader’s demise. But he arrived too late, as Raphael’s missiles had already rid him of his hateful adversary. Or so he thought. The little boy was dazed and wandering and Isaac had snatched him up and carried him into the woods, intent on devouring the innocent’s soul in revenge.
Now, he was hindered by the human who stood before him. His skeletal finger pulled the trigger further. His initial thought was to kill the human now, then devour the boy in ravenous glee. Isaac’s finger relaxed. His eyes narrowed and then his thin lips parted in a ghastly grin.
“There should be a witness to my triumph,” he said, and stepped back. The gun, however, stayed pointed at Elliot’s head. The vampire leaned to the side slightly and his free arm disappeared into the tangle of undergrowth. His hand searched around before reappearing with the boy’s limp figure clasped between his cruel fingers.
“What are you doing?” Elliot asked urgently. The look on the vampire’s face had turned his blood cold.
Isaac’s jaws opened and a deathly fit of laughter bled out. “I’m going to show you just how seriously I take Ezekiel’s promise of freedom. I’m going to bestow the ultimate gift of life. Death!” Isaac lowered his jaws towards the boy’s throat. The gun wavered slightly and Elliot seized his chance. He catapulted off the tree before throwing himself towards the vampire. They collided and the gun went off. Elliot felt the skin of his chest sear with pain. He staggered back. Looked down at his chest. A patch of blood was rapidly spreading outwards from a small hole just above his heart.
His legs buckled and he fell heavily against the tree.
Chapter Fifty-One
Jacob Cain raced towards the front line. He zigzagged over open ground, avoiding the many lines of gunfire, and reached the inner column of soldiers unscathed. The deep line of vampires had started to break down, holes appearing within their ranks as more and more shells rained down from the sky. The screech of artillery was met by the screams of those who felt the brute force of Raphael’s firepower.
Jacob pushed his way through to the front. It wasn’t hard. Most of the vampires were falling back in a desperate attempt to flee. The tracker broke clear to find a wave of solid metal before him. Some of the armoured vehicles were pushing forwards, slotting themselves between the rows of trucks, closing the line and halting the advancing army’s progress. The front wave of attackers scattered in a spray of dismembered limbs. The machinegun-fire from Ezekiel’s men cut them down like a scythe harvesting wheat. But as quickly as they fell, others took their place, and the onslaught was never-ending.
A group of vampires bearing Raphael’s insignia swarmed over the jeep to Jacob’s right. The driver and gunner were pulled towards a bloody death.
“There’s too many!” someone yelled at his side. A face full of terror filled his vision. “Let’s get out of here,” the soldier cried. He snatched Jacob’s arm and tried to pull him away from the carnage. Jacob felt himself pulled suddenly along. A series of bullet holes stuttered along the vampire’s back. The soldier fell forwards, taking Jacob with him. Another line of bullets punched through the side of a jeep, directly where Jacob had been standing, and the soldiers inside were cut to pieces.
Jacob climbed to his knees and watched as the attackers broke through the files of trucks and eighteen-wheelers. They swarmed towards him like a legion of upright ants. He pointed his weapon and dropped the first two. They fell to the earth and the boots of their own comrades squashed them into the mud. Shots were fired in his direction. The air sizzled all around him. He rolled to his left and fired into their path. A vampire’s knee exploded in a shower of red pulp. The soldier fell forwards and two more were brought down with him. Jacob squeezed off the rest of his ammo, then turned and ran. With his shoulders hunched over, he cut his way through the darkness and headed diagonally away from the ensuing horde. He lost them in the dark, changed his direction, and headed back towards the front line.
“Hold the line!” he heard.
Ezekiel was standing high at the rear of a jeep, behind the smouldering barrel of a machinegun. The weapon chattered and a dark wave of flesh was torn apart. The vampire leader’s face was spattered with the blood of the fallen and his eyes had glazed over, temporarily intoxicated by the bloodshed.
“Ezekiel!” Jacob yelled.
Jacob jumped up into the rear of the jeep and grabbed the vampire’s arm. The stutter of bullets ceased immediately. Ezekiel turned. His face sneered at this unwanted interrupter. Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but the vampire’s fist silenced any reasoning. The punch landed at the side of Jacob’s jaw and he toppled back, his foot slipping over the back of the jeep. He fell, landing heavily on his back. For a second the darkness threatened to close in all around him. He sucked in air before climbing to a sitting position. Above, Ezekiel leered over him like a demented ghoul. The vampire reached for the pistol in his waistband.
“NO… ” Jacob cried.
Suddenly, a deafening clap of thunder sounded and the ground lurched upwards as a shell exploded directly in front of the jeep. The driver and engine-block disintegrated in a shower of flesh and metal. The jeep’s rear tipped upwards, throwing Ezekiel clear, and then it somersaulted forwards, crushing the wave of attackers as it bounced and spun, disintegrating in a deadly mass of wreckage.
Something heavy landed on Jacob’s chest. He found the vampire’s dazed face above him. Ezekiel shook his head and the red veil recoiled from his vision.
“You?” he said, now recognising his captive.
“My boy? Have you seen my boy?” Jacob asked.
The vampire looked back blankly for second. Then his eyes widened with comprehension. “He’s
your son… ” Ezekiel stated.
“Yes. Have you seen him?”
The vampire shook his head. “He’s with Thalamus.”
Jacob mirrored the vampire’s gesture. “No, he isn’t,” he responded. “Thalamus is dead.”
Ezekiel’s large hand thrust out to catch Jacob by his jacket. “What?”
“He’s dead,” Jacob repeated.
“Bastard!” Ezekiel spat.
Jacob gripped the other’s hand. “Not by me,” he said. “The trailer took a direct hit.” And then he surprised himself. “I’m sorry,” he added, with genuine conviction.
Ezekiel read the human’s sincerity. “He died… quickly?”
“Yes,” Jacob lied.
“Good,” Ezekiel said. He climbed to his feet then held out his hand. Jacob took it. “We must find your boy,” Ezekiel said.
“No,” Jacob disagreed. “We must defeat Raphael, or my son won’t stand a chance. None of us will stand a chance!”
“But we can’t just leave him, for them.” He gestured towards his own men. “They don’t understand,” he said. “Life has to be cherished.”
“My nephew, the other prisoner, he’ll take care of the boy. We need to take care of them.” Jacob’s bloodied finger pointed to the opposing army.
“Okay,” Ezekiel agreed. “But how?”
“Follow me,” Jacob ordered. He moved away and dropped to his knees, next to a fallen soldier. His hands moved over the corpse in a blur.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ezekiel asked, drawing alongside.
“Looking for these,” he explained, and offered his hand upwards. A round grenade appeared, clutched between tight fingers.
“What good are they?”
“Trust me,” Jacob said.
The tracker jumped to his feet and crouched over the next body he came to. “Help me,” he urged. The vampire dropped over a third body. His examination proved fruitless. He moved to the next body and came away with two more grenades. After a quick search, they had amassed an assortment of both frag and smoke grenades.
