by M. D. Massey
Samson gave a slight nod. “None taken. If these vamps are young, second or third-gen bloodsuckers, I give my people even odds against any of them. But if they’re older? We’d need three-to-one odds to even stand a chance.”
Colin closed his eyes and knuckled his forehead. “Add to that any familiars she has in reserve, her potential ability to command the undead, and whatever other magical powers she possesses… I don’t know, Scratch. I’m just not sure we can beat her, at least not without suffering serious casualties.”
A high, nasally woman’s voice cut in as the door to the building opened. “Then why are we even planning to fight these vampires in the first place? Why aren’t we negotiating with them instead?”
I let out a short sigh of exasperation. “Nadine. How kind of you to crash our party.”
She stormed into the center of the room, eyeing me with the kind of contempt normally reserved for IRS agents and debt collectors. “And it’s just like you to leave out the common folk, Scratch. As if you and your weirdo friends are too good for us.”
“It’s not that, Nadine. I just didn’t want to start a panic.”
“Too late for that!” she screeched. “You’ve got those poor people all in an uproar, what with your secret meetings and consorting with these… inhuman creatures.” She spat on the floor for emphasis. “And, like always, you’re the one who’s the cause of all our troubles. I say we just hand you and your girlfriend over, and save ourselves the trouble of dying at the hands of these vampires. They can go back to Dallas with you two, and leave us alone like they have been.”
And that’s when our meeting erupted into chaos.
FATAL
Nadine was becoming quite the liability. As it turned out, she’d been secretly eavesdropping on our conversations for some time. How she’d managed it, I had no idea—but apparently the bitch had been filling the settlers’ heads with all sorts of nonsense. I needed to do something about her, and fast, before she turned out to be the death of us all.
After the meeting-slash-screaming-session was over, I headed back inside the Facility to find the Doc so I could fill her in; or, at least, that was my intention. I never found her, because a sea of people immediately surrounded me the minute I set foot inside. Folks asked me all manner of questions that I simply didn’t have answers for—or didn’t care to answer.
“Is it true you’re secretly conspiring with ’thropes?”
“Have you been infected?”
“Are those zombie dogs going to eat us all?”
“Nadine says you’re going to kick us out and leave us to the vamps. Is that true?”
And on, and on. Finally, I’d had enough. I drew my sidearm and fired it into the ceiling. That got their attention.
“Everyone just calm the hell down! We’re not ‘conspiring’ with anyone. You all know Bobby is a ’thrope, and that he helped rescue you. His Pack is now helping protect this facility—from the so-called ‘zombie dogs,’ I might add. No one is kicking anyone out, but I just might if you people don’t settle down and get with the program!
“I suggest that you figure out if you prefer living in a secure, underground facility with electricity, clean running water, and no deaders for miles around. Because if so, then I expect you all to stop squabbling, pitch in, and do what the hell you’re told. Otherwise, you’re dead weight—and frankly, I don’t have time to babysit a bunch of whiny-ass people while I’m trying to save them from hell on earth.”
Some two dozen sets of eyes stared at me as if I were mad… and I supposed I was. I realized I was waving my pistol around, and re-holstered it before I was tempted to accidentally shoot someone on purpose.
“Now, go about your business, and tomorrow I’ll start assigning job duties and work rosters, to ensure that everyone has a job to do and work to keep them out of trouble.” They continued looking at me, some with shock written on their faces, and others with defiance in their eyes. “Did I stutter? Dismissed!”
As the crowd dispersed with a great deal of mumbling and grumbling, I heard the Doc’s voice behind me. “Treating a group of civilians like they’re in the military is probably not the best way to gain their trust and support.”
I turned around to find her lurking in a nearby doorway, conveniently out of sight. “Nice of you to show your face, Captain Perez. Perhaps if you’d done as I asked and maintained some semblance of order around here, I wouldn’t have to.”
She tsked. “For one, I’m too busy trying to come up with a vaccine that’ll save you and all of them to be bothered with these petty spats and concerns. And second, it was your idea to bring these people here. What exactly did you expect would happen? Did you think they’d be appreciative? That they’d help you build a utopia and it’d all be unicorns and rainbows from here on out? Because if you did, I have news for you—that’s just not how people work.”
I sighed and rubbed my shoulder. It was healing, but it hurt almost as bad as my deader bite. “Sorry to snap at you. I’m just tired and fed up, is all.”
She tilted her head and gave me a grim, concerned smile. “I suppose I can give you a pass this time, considering how you were recently skewered by a vamp and all.”
“You heard, huh?”
“The chachalaca and my adopted niece filled me in, almost as soon as they got back. Gabby is some kind of upset with you, for putting yourself at risk again.”
“She’s a teenager. When is she not upset? Anyway, we have bigger concerns.” I glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and pulled up my sleeve. “It’s getting worse.”
The Doc looked at the site of my deader bite and hissed. “Scratch, you should have said something. The infection has spread again. The venom has progressed at least five centimeters since the last time I looked at it.”
I pushed the sleeve back down and clucked my tongue. “I was a little preoccupied, what with making it back from Austin in one piece and the deader dog problem.”
She grabbed my arm and exposed the bite again, turning it this way and that as she examined it more closely. “Yes, well… I may have something that can help that. Not a cure, mind you, but something to help fight off the infection. I’ve been working furiously with the last blood sample I took from you, and I think I might have made a breakthrough.”
“A vaccine?” She blinked her eyes, then nodded once. I whistled softly. “How soon before you think it’ll be ready?”
“That depends on how well my guinea pig responds to it.”
I tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough that made my shoulder and head ache in equal measures. “Your guinea pig is falling apart as we speak. Whatever it does to me, it can’t possibly make things worse.”
“Famous last words,” she said, sucking on her lower lip as she regarded me gravely. “Meet me down in the lab in thirty, and we’ll find out.”
“Will do. And while we’re at it, I’ll fill you in on everything that happened on our little excursion to Austin. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Doc.”
“How so? We’ve dealt with bad situations before, Scratch.”
“Yeah, but not like this. Somehow, I think our troubles are just beginning.”
Downstairs in the lab, the Doc gave me several injections that stung like the dickens and made me woozy. “What the hell is in there, Doc?”
She hooked me up to an EKG machine, a blood pressure cuff, and a pulse oximeter to monitor my vital signs. “It’s a toxoid vaccine. It won’t kill the deader vyrus, but it will help your body build up an immunity to its effects.”
“How’s it work… or do I even want to know?”
“Up until now, your body has been attempting to ‘wall off’ the deader venom. It’s been an effective stop-gap measure, but only that. This should get your entire immune system to kick in and create antibodies against the toxin created by the deader virus. The vyrus infects by first killing live cells, then it enters them and takes over, reanimating the cell. Cell death is a prerequisite to zombification—the gangr
enous lines you see emanating from your bite scar are evidence of that process. This vaccine will boost your immune system as it prevents that from spreading, and perhaps even allow your body to eradicate it over time.”
My head began spinning, so I laid my head back on the gurney. “So, people who get this vaccine won’t turn into zombies if they get bit, but they’ll still be infected.”
“That’s exactly right; they’ll still be carriers. They’ll need to take precautions around anyone who hasn’t received the vaccine.”
I closed my eyes, waiting for a wave of nausea to pass. “Still, it’s something to give people hope…”
My words were cut off by klaxons sounding and spinning lights flashing in the lab. I sat up and nearly fell off the gurney due to the effects of the vaccine. “Doc, what the hell is that?”
She jumped in front of a computer monitor and keyboard and typed in a few short commands. “Damn it—it’s the sensors on the upper level. We have undead inside the Facility.”
“Crap.” I tore off the monitoring cables and blood pressure cuff as I swung my legs off the side of the gurney. My head was still spinning, but I’d fought battles in worse shape. “Help me get to my gear.”
The Doc reached into a nearby drawer and grabbed a Beretta nine-millimeter pistol and two spare magazines. She tucked the mags into a pocket of her lab coat, then ducked under my arm and helped me over to where I’d left my gear. I strapped on my belt and holster and slung my rifle’s one-point sling over my head, checking the mag and chambering a round.
The Doc led me to the exit. She helped me up the stairs, and we leaned against the wall on either side of the door to the upper level.
“You ready?” I asked, rifle at the ready.
“As I’ll ever be.” She typed in a code on the keypad and the door slid open. “The system will lock anyone out who doesn’t have that code. If something happens to me, Gabby knows it.”
I stumbled through the doorway, but the Doc stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “Scratch, if it’s as bad as I think it is, you may see a side of me you haven’t seen before.”
“I know you can take care of yourself, Lorena. Just watch your ass, alright?”
“I… sure, Scratch. Now go. I’ll cover you.”
I weaved my way into the hall and around a corner as the door whooshed closed behind us. Inside the halls of the upper level, it was chaos. Gunfire, cries of pain, and screams of terror echoed from every side, along with the moans of the dead and snarls that I hoped were coming from Bobby and the Pack. Bodies were strewn here and there, ripped open by claws or teeth, and the floor was slick with blood wherever our people had fallen.
I staggered toward the mess hall, using the wall to support myself. That was where I suspected the survivors would be making a stand, as most of the gunfire was coming from that direction. I looked back to check on the Doc, but she was gone; I’d just have to trust that she was capable of taking care of herself.
I turned another corner and found three of those damned deader dogs tearing a human body apart. I shot each in the head, then drew my sword to finish the job. Adrenaline was doing its work now, and though I still felt dizzy, it wasn’t as severe. I tried to avoid looking at the body, compartmentalizing the casualties for now. I’d have time to sort that out later, but for now they were just corpses to me.
Something blurred into the hallway ahead of me—a short, wiry Caucasian man with slicked back red hair and a goatee. He wore khaki BDU pants, a black long-sleeved rash guard, and desert combat boots. His hands and mouth were covered in fresh blood and bits of gore, and blood flecked his face here and there in stark contrast to his pale, freckled skin.
“Well, fancy seeing you here, mate. The boss said you’d be here, but unfortunately you’re a bit late to the party.” He spoke with an Australian accent, which told me he probably wasn’t that old. The accent hadn’t fully developed on the continent until the mid-1800s, which meant this bloodsucker wasn’t likely to be as ancient as Piotr or Calypso.
That meant I might have a chance.
I drew my sidearm and charged the vamp, running with my sword in my left hand. He wasn’t nearly as quick as his boss, and I was loaded with silver-tipped hollow points. So, when my bullets punched three neat holes in his chest and torso, they had an effect. The vamp staggered, looking down at his chest.
“Well, that’s hardly sporting, innit?” he said, then lunged at me, faster than any human or ’thrope could move.
I’d expected it. From what I’d seen, these higher vamps had little sophistication in their method of combat, and they relied on brute strength and speed over finesse and skill. While this asshole could move like Agent Smith, I didn’t need to beat him to the punch.
All I needed to do was be in the right place when he moved.
One side effect of the Doc’s serum that hadn’t failed me yet was an increased perception speed. Although my body hadn’t sped up much, my brain seemed to process visual inputs much, much faster. That allowed me to react to what my opponents were doing almost as soon as they moved. The vamp had a good dozen feet to cover, and while he was doing that I dropped the pistol, crouched, and swung at knee level with my sword.
My blade severed his right leg neatly, just below the knee. It was good, traditionally-forged Japanese steel, and I kept it razor sharp. The stroke combined with the vamp’s forward momentum meant that I felt little resistance while the katana passed through the vamp’s leg, even when it severed bone.
He tumbled over me in a heap, catching me on the shoulder with a swipe of his claws as he passed. I felt them cut deep, but adrenaline and anger allowed me to ignore the pain. I grabbed my pistol and spun, firing a single round into his skull before he could recover. Then, I walked up to him, weaving just slightly, and chopped his head off.
The pistol and sword combination seemed to be working for me, so I switched the katana to my strong side and held the pistol in my left hand as I entered the mess hall. By the time I arrived, the battle was already over. Several fully-transformed werewolves were standing in a circle around a small group of six or seven humans. There were dead bodies everywhere; I assumed the single decapitated corpse had been a vamp.
Gabby stood among the survivors, armed with her kukri and pistol and covered in blood that I hoped wasn’t hers. I recognized Bobby’s ’thrope form standing next to her, scanning the room for threats along with his packmates.
“Gabby, sitrep!” I yelled as I approached the group.
She lowered her weapons, but kept looking around as she replied. “As far as I know, we’re the only survivors. Everyone was sacked out, but Bobby and I stayed up playing cards in the mess. One minute we were playing rummy, and the next the vamps swooped in, killing everyone in sight.”
“Any threats besides the vamps?”
She shrugged. “About a dozen deaders that I saw, and a bunch of those deader dogs. We took out the hounds and deaders, but the vamps were a little tougher than I expected. We only got one of them, but they got one of the Pack, too.”
One of the ’thropes howled a mournful cry that ran chills down my spine. I looked at the werewolf and gave what I hoped was an expression of sympathy. “I agree, but we can count our dead later. Right now, we need to find out how they got in and seal that opening. Bobby, take a team and find the breech, then secure it. Lock it up tight if you can, and if you can’t, stay on guard at that exit.”
He nodded and signaled to two wolves, and they bounded out of the room. “Gabby, you’re with me.” I looked at the remaining four ’thropes. “I could use one more, if that’s alright.”
A shorter werewolf with dark fur stepped forward. “I’m game. What’s the plan?” I recognized Trina’s voice—albeit a huskier, gravellier version of it.
“We need to do a sweep for any survivors, as well as any remaining threats. I’ll need the rest of your packmates to stay here to guard the remaining survivors.”
The half-dozen women and children who were left were obvi
ously scared, but several had armed themselves. The fact that they weren’t going to go down easily triggered something inside me. I got a nod from a large ’thrope in response to my request, and I took off out of the mess hall with Gabby and Trina behind me.
We checked every hall and room—even the armory, which had been locked up. Along the way, we killed a few deaders and a deader dog who was chewing a corpse all to hell. The attack had come in through a single access point, an emergency escape hatch that could only have been opened from the inside. The hatch itself had been ripped off the hinges, so we’d have to weld it shut once daylight came.
Bobby and his packmates were guarding the breached hatch when we finished our sweep. Bobby waved me over and led me to a nearby storage room. Inside, Nadine laid on a pallet made from metal storage boxes, bleeding from several nasty vamp bites.
“We found her like this, near the breach,” Bobby said.
Unlike the vamps in the movies, these things didn’t leave two neat little holes that healed up with a lick. The woman had been savaged on one side of her neck, at the fossa inside the elbow joint of each arm, and inside her left thigh. How she was even still alive was a mystery to me, but I suspected it had something to do with the vyrus. She’d turn once she died, for sure.
I walked up and touched her shoulder, and her eyes blinked open in response. “Nadine, what happened? Did they break in on their own?”
The accusation was plain in my voice.
“I… I thought they just wanted you,” she whispered. “They said they only wanted you.”
“Damn it, Nadine—if they’d have wanted me, they would’ve killed me back in Austin when they had the chance.”
“Didn’t… know. How many died?”
I hung my head and squeezed the bridge of my nose. “A lot. Maybe half the survivors, in fact.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Kill me.”
“Oh, I intend to, but not as punishment for what you did. You’re infected, and you’ll turn once your heart doesn’t have enough blood to pump. Maybe you’ll become a deader, or maybe something worse like a ghoul or a rev. I can’t let that happen.”
