After The Fall: Children Of The Nephilim

by Paul Freeman

  Once she got a fire going she huddled into one corner using the flames as a barrier between her and the outside world. They say to be turned by a vampire was to be lost from the sight of God for all eternity… that the soul became so tainted and corrupted it would never find its way into Heaven. But, if she were to put the barrel of the pistol she clutched tightly to her breast into her mouth and pulled the trigger she would be equally as damned. At least it would put an end to the terror in her heart.

  The heat of the fire stole the chill of night from the air as the dancing flames caught her in its hypnotic web. When she was a child she’d seen her father shoot her mother who had become a blood-craving monster. It was an image that replayed itself every night before she closed her eyes and sank into the cold peace of sleep. She missed her mother… missed not having one. Her pa had done his best by her, but there are things only a mother can give, emotions and advice, the cement of a mother-daughter bond. “I miss you, Mom,” she said to the fire as she tried to remember her mother’s face and conjure it in the flames. The face she could not even picture in her mind.

  The heavy smell of burning wood quickly filled the small ruin, stinging her eyes even though the smoke drifted out of the open doors and windows and upwards towards the many holes in the rotting roof. She hugged her knees to her chest, still keeping a tight grip on the pistol – ready to blast at anything that came through the door. She rocked back and forth as she used to do in her mother’s arms. Colony was a small, close-knit community, she supposed most survivors of the Fall lived huddled together in tight communities. Her pa had often told her stories of how it was before the vampires had chased the world from the night forcing mankind to cower behind walls. She knew she would never go to a prom – she didn’t even have a school. She would never go to the mall with her friends, or to the movies on dates. Malls and movie theatres were nothing more than crumbling scars on the landscape – if any even survived at all. Then one day her mother was turned by a feeder and her pa put a bullet in her heart. After that she didn’t think anything could affect her in the same way again – that was until a couple of days previous when she and Will were attacked by a vampire. She would never go to the movies and eat popcorn and hold hands with her date while he tried to steal kisses in the back row.

  A small whimper escaped from her shivering form when she heard a bestial hiss coming from the darkness. The blazing fire created a ring of light and heat she prayed would keep any feeders at bay. Her imagination made monsters of every shape and shadow beyond its touch. She raised the pistol, pulling back the hammer.

  Feeders usually travelled and hunted in clans, she knew this. She also knew that occasionally lone vampires stalked the night. Often ones freshly turned. Alone or in a group they were always hungry for blood. She hoped the draw of sweet, warm blood pumping rapidly through a teenage girl would not be temptation enough for a feeder to overcome its fear of the blaze. She reached down and snatched some of her stockpiled wood and threw it on the fire. The flames writhed like a demonic dance and sparked as they welcomed the added fuel, making the air even stuffier than it had been. She could taste the wood-smoke in the back of her throat as she rubbed her stinging eyes with the back of her hand.

  She looked up sharply at the sound of debris on the floor of the cottage being disturbed. She peered into the darkness; the fire illuminated a circle on the floor but made it even harder to see beyond the flickering glow. Her hand shook so much she needed to grip the gun in both. She longed to see her pa walk through that door with Pastor and the other men he rode out of Colony with. Was it only that morning they left? She wondered then had the marauders been watching, or had Penny and Bart somehow sent them a signal?

  Had something shifted in the darkness? Or was it her imagination. Maybe she was simply hearing a fox, investigating the stranger in his domain. Although she’d lived with the threat of vampires all her life she realized she didn’t know a whole lot about them. Are they smarter than me? She knew what people said – that they were driven by their need to gorge on human blood. That somehow they were faster and stronger than they had ever been when they were living. But to be stalked by one… why weren’t folk taught what to do then? Maybe people caught in the realm of a vampire don’t live long enough to tell the tale of how they survived.

  The hiss became a snarl and then a growl – not a fox. She stood up, her legs quivering, barely able to take her weight. She pressed her back against the wall, as far she could without actually sinking into the bricks – she would if she could. The gun wavered and wobbled in her shaking hands. She pictured the evil mask her mother wore as she ran towards her and her pa, her wickedly sharp fangs bared, her eyes blazing with hunger. She remembered the feeder sinking his teeth into Will’s throat, blood fountaining from the fresh wound as the vampire hungrily fed on him.

  The darkness moved, a shadow shifted and in the blink of an eye the grotesque face of evil was before her. Amy screamed and fired, an explosion of noise and smoke filled the small, ruined cottage.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  He opened his eyes and saw Jeb looming over him. “I don’t know what kind of dreams you have, but I sure am glad I ain’t got them.” Jeb handed him a small loaf of bread and a wedge of hard cheese wrapped in a cloth.

  He took the food with a nod of acknowledgment. George Muller was watching him from the far side of the dying fire. He looked away and bit into the bread, tearing off a chunk. His gaze wandered to the marble altar and the blank wall behind it, a stark empty space where the symbol of Christ would have once hung. A shiver ran through him as a breeze gusted through the high arched windows, long since emptied of the stained glass. The high-ceilinged room made for a drafty and eerie place when the wind was up.

  “Could be there’s some bad weather headin’ this way,” George said.

  “Time we was movin’ on,” Pastor said before pulling himself to his feet. His knees clicked and his back and leg muscles screamed at him as he stood.

  “You think you’ll even find this kid again?” Jeb asked, as he packed away his gear and any food left uneaten into a leather saddlebag.

  “I don’t know, Jeb… maybe,” he answered before walking over to the heavy door. The wood creaked as he pulled it open letting morning light spill through the entranceway. More wind blew swirling debris with it. He let the fresh air wash over him before he stepped out into the open. All around the long grass stirred in the wind like a living carpet. Overhead was gray with intermittent pools of blue appearing here and there. In the distance casting an ominous shadow over the waving grass, much darker clouds formed a thick blanket covering the sky.

  George led the horses out into the open while Jeb did what he could to clean up after them. The smell was not likely to be too welcoming for the next travelers, but at least the building would give them some shelter for the night. As the last man to leave he pulled the door closed behind him and then stood gaping.

  “Hey, Jeb, what…” George began and then stopped as he turned around.

  “Pastor,” Jeb called quietly and evenly.

  The three men stood staring at the entrance to the church and the closed wooden door stained red with a cross.

  “Is that…”

  “Blood,” Pastor answered before Jeb finished the question.

  “That weren’t there when we arrived yesterday evenin’,” George said.

  “No,” Pastor agreed.

  “Someone put it there last night,” George said, unnecessarily.

  “Yep.” Pastor took a step closer.

  “Is it human blood?” George asked.

  Pastor swung around towards him. “How in the hell should I know that?”

  “Yeah… I don’t know… it’s just a bit of a shock, sorry,” George stammered.

  I’m coming for you. The words from his dream hung like a lingering ghost haunting his memory. A warning and a threat now engrained in the wood of the door, the very fabric of the church. He shook his head at such foolish nonsense an
d strode away, snatching the reins of his horse from George. “Quit your standing around gawping and mount up,” he barked at the others.

  With a final glance over his shoulder at the isolated church he led the small group of men out into the grasslands. They rode with one eye on the sky as dark clouds rolled ever closer to them. Although the sky over their heads was clear and the sun bathed them in warmth he knew that would change soon enough. There were few enough places to shelter out on the prairie – he should know he’d traversed it often enough – a few dilapidated buildings here and there, where once small towns would have stood. As always it amazed him at how quickly nature had reclaimed the land and how life, be it animal or vegetable, thrived where once man had scarred the earth with concrete and steel structures. There were cities still standing of course, leastways the shell of them, but most of them lay in the Dead Zone where nothing lived – nothing you’d want to meet anyway.

  The Dead Zone; his mind pondered over the destruction wrought by man on the earth and each other. The feeders had been the trigger, the catalyst, but man himself had brought the apocalypse. Most of the world was now uninhabitable and would likely stay that way for generations. Even in places like the prairie stretching out for miles around him, seemingly vibrant and thriving, were not untouched. Or Colony, where folks died from cancers, untreatable then, even more so now. Foul winds blew across the land from the Dead Zone, spreading corruption and man-made poisons across the world.

  A splash of rain on his face shook him from his deep thoughts and the wind began to pick up.

  “Whoa! Look!” George pointed barely containing his excitement.

  Pastor smiled at the herd of bison slowly wandering across the grass plain. Some things had improved at least. A lot of animals had escaped from zoos and parks after the Fall, some were more suited than others to life in the wild and to the climate. The strong had survived, and with a vastly diminished population of man, had thrived – like the bison. There were others too, more dangerous animals, predators who preyed on the great shaggy cows of the plain, such as lions and wolves and of course packs of wild dogs. The world had become a dangerous place where there were more threats than just vampires.

  Jeb had a big grin on his face. “Now that’s a sight worth seein’,” he said.

  “We’ll need to be careful of predators hiding in the grass,” Pastor warned, then felt guilty for ruining the men’s enjoyment of the natural wonder of the world. A growl and a sudden burst from the long grass gave truth to his warning. The men watched as three female lions burst from their hiding places and isolated a calf from the rest of the herd. Skillfully they shepherded it away from its mother and the other more dangerous adults and harried it to exhaustion before they pounced for the kill.

  Pastor kicked his horse away from the scene as the dark sky momentarily lightened with an electric flash, shortly followed by a deep rumble. “Let’s get to shelter,” he said, raising his voice over the rolling thunder. Sheets of water were raining down on them, making visibility almost impossible.

  Shelter was the shell of a building that may have once been a motel or even a small shopping mall, its identity long since lost. Vines and weeds twisted their way over and around the building, while tree roots upturned what was left of the concrete foundations and ripped into the walls, leaving many of them shattered and in chunks on the ground. They managed to find a section where the walls weren’t too badly damaged and the roof remained relatively intact.

  “Get a fire going,” Pastor instructed as he flung his gear and weapons over his shoulder and carried them into the building. He checked the chambers of the shotgun before snapping it closed. “I’ll make sure we’re alone in here.” He stomped back out into the rain leaving the other two men behind.

  The building – what was left of it – surrounded an open space, most likely once a car-park or maybe an open courtyard. Most of the dividing walls had fallen in making it hard to decipher the original, interior shape of the building. Broken glass crunched under his boots as he slowly walked into a large open space. The roof was still intact where he stood, making the interior dark and gloomy. He struck a flint and lit a torch. He was surrounded by a puddle of light as he cautiously pressed deeper into the gloom. His heart rate increased as he imagined all manner of shapes shifting at the edge of his vision only to disappear when he swung the flickering torch in their direction. It occurred to him that it would make a perfect place for a large feeder clan to hide from the fatal rays of the sun. Sharing the building with a horde of vampires was not a pleasant thought; he’d hunted enough of them to such places countless times over the years. He knew their favorite hiding places were deep underground or in the shadows where the sun could not penetrate.

  A noise echoing further along the corridor made him jump. Biting his bottom lip he raised his shotgun. The ‘plink-plonk’ of leaking water echoed all around him. I’m coming for you. He grunted as he shook off the words from his dream and squinted into the darkness up ahead. A peal of thunder cracked far above as he imagined all manner of shapes moving about in the dark.

  A growl – had he imagined it – the sound of something dragging, or being dragged. Feeders normally slept during the day, even secreted away in the shadows. He swallowed hard as he carefully placed one foot in front of the other. Scraping – He pictured exposed fangs, black evil eyes. He tasted blood in his mouth and realized he’d bitten his lip. Nothing good comes out of the dark, a stray thought wandered into his mind.

  He heard a snarl followed by scampering feet. He quickly pointed the shotgun in the direction of the noise and pulled back the hammer. The darkness shifted and a shape appeared out of the gloom. He fired. An explosion echoed around the confined space, deafening him as the shotgun kicked back against his shoulder. And then an even louder roar rent the momentary calm after the shot.

  “Oh shit,” he said softly, as brown fur and teeth emerged from the dark.

  A huge bear roared its anger at being disturbed as it stood to its full height. Panic surged through him at being so close to such a large animal, now wounded with multiple buckshot injuries. His fingers fumbled at his belt for two more shells, while the bear dropped to all fours. More shots rang out from behind him as he snapped shut the barrel of the shotgun and fired. Jeb and George were beside him now, both firing. The sound of the gunfire and the bears agonized cries were deafening. The bear slumped forward and with a final defiant growl lay still.

  The three men stood in silence for a long time staring at the huge pile of brown fur lying at their feet. Finally Pastor stoked his chin. “Reckon we’ve got some meat now.”

  “And a warm blanket,” Jeb added. Nervous tension came out in a laugh from all three men. Men who knew they’d looked death in the eye and didn’t like the experience.

  Later as they sat around a fire, George, with grease running down his beard from the freshly cooked meat spoke up, “When I was a kid my pa took me huntin’ for the first time into the woods near where we lived. We drove out in his truck, just me and him plannin’ on spendin’ the night in the wilderness, thinkin’ we’d bag a deer or two. I suppose it was sort of an initiation for me, bein’ my first trip.” He spat a lump of fatty gristle into the fire making it hiss and flare, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The one thing he impressed upon me in particular was not to panic if we came across a bear. And boy, we had some big ol’ grizzlies in them woods, bigger even than the one we’re chowin’ down on now. He said to me, ‘Boy, if we see any bears, don’t you move. You just stay real still and let him mosey off on his way.’ So o’course a couple hours into our hike and we come across a mama grizzly with her cubs, ain’t nothin’ more dangerous. And my ol’ Pa takes one look at me and screams, run!” George started laughing then choking on the laughter. “One look at that she bear and he was runnin’ for his life.”

  “What did you do?” Jeb asked wide-eyed as the laughter became contagious.

  “Well hell, I ran right along with him. Ain’t no e
asy thing to face down a grizzly.” He continued to laugh for a while before his expression turned maudlin. “I went back to the farm in the early days of the Fall, when the world was turnin’ to shit but none of us realized it yet. Neither of my folks was there. I found a pool of blood in the kitchen but never saw them again.” He stared into the fire as it crackled and danced in the draft blowing in from the storm outside. “I had my own place by then. They were gettin’ on and me and my brothers used to help my pa on the farm, even though we all had our own… it’s what you do, ain’t it?” He looked up from the fire into the eyes of Jeb and Pastor.

  Pastor could see the tears forming in George’s eyes as he dug through the past. When he looked into his own he found it difficult to see anything before the Fall. He had become used to having nothing but memories of blood and fear and killing. Perhaps it was best to leave some things where they were and just move on, to focus on the present rather than dwelling some place that is already done and dusted.

  “How about you, Pastor?” Jeb asked. “You got people somewhere do you think… who escaped the Fall?”

  He looked into Jeb’s eyes feeling resentment growing inside him at being asked the question – at being forced to face the realities of the past. He just shook his head and said in a soft voice, “ain’t a soul alive untouched by the Fall.” He knew he wasn’t answering the question, and in some ways felt guilty at pushing away another human being who was only trying to make a connection on some sort of emotional level. The guilt made him even angrier. He flung the remnants of his meal into the fire and stood up. “Weather seems to be easin’ off. Time to get back on the road.”