Dominion of the Damned

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

  “How often do I have to tell you, darlin’? I never mind taking care of this angel.” Careful not to wake him, she gently moved Noah into her lap. Chris was already on his feet, and he helped her up. “Okay,” said Hannah. “We’ll see what the situation is outside, and we’ll let you know if it’s clear.”

  She unlatched the door, and readied her rifle as she stuck her head out. A sprinkling of soft rain still fell, but the sky was beginning to clear, revealing stars and a bright moon. The coast looked clear. Hannah stepped outside, followed by Chris. “It looks clear,” he said.

  “Shh.” She thought she heard something. “Listen.”

  There it was, not far in the distance: a moan. And then another.

  Chris heard it, too. “That sounds like…”

  The moaning turned into a chorus, and Hannah’s stomach filled with dread. “The fence,” she said. “The tornado took out the fence.”

  “Shit.” Chris turned back to the shelter. “We need to get everybody to the old fort. That’s where we holed up the last time they got in.”

  “We don’t even know if the old fort’s still there,” said Hannah. “Everyone should stay in the shelters. They’ll be safe in there. If a tornado can’t breach them, then neither can the shamblers.”

  “But those things aren’t made to stay in indefinitely” said Chris. “There’s no food, no water, no place to use the bathroom. And there’s no way to fight.”

  “I’ll go find Alek,” said Hannah. “We’ll scope out the rest of the camp and see what’s there, and we’ll come up with a plan. But for now everybody needs to just sit tight. We need to let the other shelters know that they shouldn’t try to leave.”

  “I’ll do that. You go find the doc before the shamblers get here. And Hannah, be careful.”

  “You, too.”

  She cocked her rifle and headed off in the direction of the old jail house. The moon cast enough light to reveal debris scattered everywhere, downed trees and damaged buildings. She hoped that her house had made it through unscathed. Rounding a corner, Hannah stopped in her tracks, a chill shooting down her spine as she heard a loud groan. It sounded close. Bodies lay among the debris, some in the street, some flung into trees, and one dangling off the edge of a roof, all of them writhing and moaning.

  Hannah turned to try another route, but more shamblers were scattered on the ground behind her, and they were starting to get up. There were too many for her to take them all out with her rifle. She backed up to the other side of the street and tried to edge past the fallen ones without drawing their attention, but it was too late. They were getting to their feet, and they seemed to lock onto her.

  She smelled gasoline, and looked around for the source. A jeep had been dropped on its roof in the middle of the street, and it was leaking fuel. She put it between her and the shamblers, and backed up to a tree that still stood nearby. She took position behind the tree, aimed at the puddle of fuel, and waited. The shamblers had to pass by it to get to her. One reached the jeep, and then another, each moving with their slow, shuffling gait, teeth gnashing at the air, their faces otherwise expressionless. Four or five were gathered near the jeep now, then six. If she waited any longer, they’d move too far past it. She pulled the trigger, and missed.

  Her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then took aim again. Fired. This time the bullet struck the jeep, and sparks ignited the puddle of fuel. Hannah ducked behind the tree and covered her ears. The explosion caused the tree to vibrate against her back, raining leaves down on her. A blast of heat enveloped her. Then she heard a wet plop beside her, followed by another. She opened her eyes to see a pair of severed legs, one on each side of her. Another plop, and an arm fell between them. Something wet landed on her head. Hannah knocked it off, and recognized an ear.

  “Aw, God, that’s nasty,” she muttered, and waited until body parts finished raining down around her. Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet and peeked around the tree. The shamblers closest to the jeep had been obliterated. She’d already seen (and touched) what happened to the rest. Hannah didn’t waste any more time. She turned in the direction of the old jail and ran.

  FORTY-THREE

  Zach’s umbrella was inside out and useless by the time he reached the old jail house, leaving him soaked to the bone. Heading down into the dank basement, he began to shiver. Even in the lingering heat of late summer, the old underground cells tended to be chilly. Ignoring the moaning coming from Bob 2.0’s cell, he made his way past it into the slightly larger cell where he’d set up a makeshift laboratory to salvage his and the doc’s research. A century-old underground jail cell seemed like an unlikely place to conduct sophisticated biochemistry research, but that was exactly why Zach had chosen it. If any more would-be saboteurs managed to get into the camp, at least they’d have a hard time finding the lab. Hopefully, the vampires would have an equally difficult time, buying Zach some extra time to find the vaccine.

  Inside the lab, he lit a Bunsen burner, more for heat than anything else, before stripping off his shirt and hanging it to dry. He pulled on his lab coat and buttoned it up, then checked on the rats. They were all huddled together in a corner of the cage, sound asleep. He put some fresh food pellets in their bowl, and promised to get them some fresh water after the crisis passed.

  Then he got to work. He felt bad about missing the assembly, and as much as he wasn’t really made for combat, part of him wanted to be up there with Doc and the others, getting ready for the fight that faced them. But he knew that continuing the vaccine research was the most important job he could be doing. They were running out of time. If the vampires shut them down before they could come up with the vaccine, then humanity would forever be at their mercy.

  “But no pressure,” he muttered to himself as he went over his notes for about the eleventy-billionth time.

  And then he saw it.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head as he went over the math. “That can’t be it. It can’t be that simple, and my life can’t be that easy.” But after more than an hour of painstakingly reviewing the formula and accounting for all of the variables, he could find no reason why it shouldn’t work.

  He got to work assembling the components and meticulously combining and processing them. When he finished, he held up a vial of what could very well be the catalyst for the restoration of human society.

  He loaded five CCs into a syringe before pulling on a pair of protective gloves and retrieving one of the rats. She sleepily rubbed her eyes and wiped her whiskers as he transferred her to the isolation cage, where he injected her with the potential vaccine. Then he sat back to watch and take notes. Five minutes passed with no ill effects. Then ten. Twenty. At the half-hour mark, when the rat still seemed normal, he decided to move on to the next stage of testing. Ideally, he would keep her under observation for twenty-four hours before introducing the virus, but there wasn’t time. Besides, he was more confident than ever that he actually had the vaccine this time.

  But he couldn’t be positive until he tested it against the virus, and before he could do that, he needed to retrieve a fresh sample. After his close encounter with Bob 1.0, Zach had taken to keeping a pistol handy for whenever he needed to get samples from their pet shambler. He retrieved the gun and made sure it was loaded.

  This Bob was trussed up in his cell like Hannibal Lecter. A saliva sample would have been sufficient for Zach’s needs, but that would have required going near the shambler’s mouth, something Zach had learned never to do. He reluctantly tucked the pistol under his arm to free both his hands while he used a syringe to obtain a fluid sample. Bob moaned and thrashed against his restraints, but thankfully, he stayed restrained. Zach hurried out of the shambler’s cell, securing it behind him before taking the syringe back to the lab.

  He went to the isolation cage and reached in for the rat. “Sorry about this, girl,” he told her as he injected her with the infected syringe, “but if I’m right, you’ll be just fine.” He
stroked her behind the ears and set her back on the floor of the cage. Only when she sunk her teeth into his finger did he realize he’d forgotten to put on his protective gloves.

  Zach jerked his hand out of the cage and slammed it shut. Then he just stood there, staring at the bite as blood welled up from it, unable to believe his own stupidity.

  Then it hit him. “Oh, shit.”

  There was no plumbing downstairs, so he rushed upstairs to the bathroom sink to flush and clean the wound. Downstairs, he hadn’t even been aware of the storm, but up here he could hear the wind howling, and the building creaked and moaned under the beating it was taking from the weather. Zach cleaned the bite as well as he could, then hurried back downstairs. In the lab, a sinking feeling filled him as he approached the isolation cage.

  The rat lay curled up on its side, clearly dead.

  “Oh, God.” He knew he only had one chance. He ran to the work table, grabbed the vial that held the vaccine and used it to fill a sterile syringe. He rolled up his sleeve and pressed the needle to the skin over his vein, not bothering to swab it first. But he paused before injecting himself. Did the virus kill the rat, or did the vaccine? Either way, the vaccine clearly hadn’t worked. Even if it did, it was too late for it to do Zach any good. He already felt sick, his limbs growing stiff and weak. He put down the syringe, and went to check on the rat.

  Already it had begun to twitch, its body re-animating before his eyes. Before it could regain full movement, Zach reached into the cage and snapped its neck.

  Then he went back to the work table, and began going over his notes yet again. He estimated he had at least half an hour to figure out where he had gone wrong and to leave a message for the doc. He set his gun on the table, and set a timer, and then got busy making the most out of the last half hour of his life.

  ***

  “Zach!” Alek called as he burst into the old jail house.

  “Down here!” a voice called, faintly, from the stairwell. Alek followed it down to the basement, to the maximum security cells underground. He found the cell where Zach had set up their makeshift lab. And he found Zach slumped over a table, furiously scribbling notes.

  “I screwed up, Doc,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Alek. “A tornado’s coming. We need to stay put down here until it’s over.”

  “It is over,” said Zach. He put down his pen and turned to look at Alek.

  “What are you talking abo—” Alek stopped, and stared. Zach’s face looked pale, and slightly green. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles forming under them. He looked like death. “What happened?”

  “I thought I had it. I think we’re close. But damn it, I was so sure I had it.”

  “Zachary, what did you do?”

  “I knew we were out of time, with the Council coming. So I was testing it.”

  Alek couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You… you let Bob bite you?” He looked Zach up and down, but didn’t see any tell-tale bite marks.

  Zach giggled, a little maniacally, and held up his finger. “Number Three bit me, after I introduced the virus. I forgot to put my gloves on before handling her. Stupid, I know.” That giggle again. It made Alek shudder. “I guess I sure learned my lesson about proper lab safety procedures.”

  “Zachary…” Whatever he was going to say died on his tongue. What was there to say? Tears stung Alek’s eyes. He’d already lost too many friends. He couldn’t lose this one, too. “No,” he said. “No, we can still fix this.” There was one thing he had always wondered about, but had never had the opportunity to try it. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance Zach had. “I think I can save you,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Alek crossed the room to Zach. “Let me turn you.”

  Zach stared at him a moment. “Into a vampire?” He gave a disbelieving laugh. “Do you really think that’ll work?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

  Zach thought about it for about two seconds before saying, “I don’t want to die.”

  “Then hold still,” said Alek, as his fangs extended. “This will only hurt for a moment.”

  FORTY-FOUR

  The shelter vibrated as a loud bang sounded in the distance. “What is that?” asked Paula. “Another tornado?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Chris. “That sounded like an explosion.”

  “What in the world?”

  “There’s no telling,” said Captain Burrel. “If the tornado went through the camp, it probably turned over vehicles, left gas pipes broken and exposed… lightning could have struck a fuel leak, or a transformer…”

  “Or Hannah could have blown something up,” said Chris. “Or something could have blown her up.”

  “Hush, son,” said Paula. “Don’t talk that way.”

  He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let her take off alone.”

  “That girl knows how to take care of herself. We need you here more than she does.”

  “What for? To sit in this box and wait to be rescued?”

  “You’ve already had enough of an opportunity to prove you can be a hero,” his mother scolded him. “You just sit tight. The doc’ll come get us sooner or later.”

  “Unless he got blown up.”

  “Christopher, you shush!”

  At the back of the shelter, a little girl began to fidget in her mother’s arms. “Mommy, I have to potty.”

  “I know, sweetie. So do I. We just have to hold it right now.”

  Chris stood up. “What if they’re not coming back? We can’t just sit here all night.” Frustrated, he slammed the palm of his hand on the shelter wall. “I shouldn’t have listened to Hannah. I should have moved us all when we still had a chance."

  In his mom’s arms, the baby fidgeted and started to fuss. “Christopher, you’re starting to upset everyone. Sit down!”

  “No, he’s right,” said Captain Burrell. “We can’t stay in here indefinitely, and we can’t even know for sure if Dr. Konstantin is able to come back for us. And the High Council’s troops are still coming. If we stay here we’ll be sitting ducks. We still have to do all that we can to get ready for them.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” asked the young mother at the back. “You want us to take our kids out there with those things?”

  Other voices joined hers in dissent. The captain raised his hands in a placating gesture. “They’re drawn to sound. Right now they’re probably all headed toward the source of the explosion. That gives us a window.”

  Yes, thought Chris, finally someone is talking sense. “I’m in,” he said, dropping into a crouch next to the captain. “What’s the plan?”

  The captain looked from him to the other expectant faces staring at him with rapt attention. “Do we know where Ned is?”

  “Yeah, he’s in the next shelter over.”

  “Okay. Everyone with a weapon who’s willing and doesn’t have a child to care for, we go get Ned, and get him to the tank. I can also drive a tank, if we can find another one that’s operational. Then we use those to ferry everyone to the old fort.”

  “And just how long are the rest of us supposed to sit and wait for you to come back?” asked Paula.

  “If we run into trouble,” said Chris, “we’ll break and everyone will head back here. Enough of us are going that somebody should be able to make it back here.”

  “You’re not going,” said Paula. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Mom, I have to.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed, exasperated, and looked around at the other men and women standing up and checking their weapons. “Because I’m not a kid. Look, I know how I let Dad down by not joining the Army—”

  “You don’t have anything to prove to your father. And he was proud of you. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”

  “I know that, okay? I do. But I’ve got enough of him in me that I can’t just sit
here while other people risk their lives for us.” He stood up. “I’m going.”

  His mother’s lips trembled as she fought back tears. As if sensing her distress, Noah began to cry. “You be careful,” she told him, then looked at Captain Burrell. “You watch my boy’s back.”

  He nodded. “Ma’am, your husband was my drill instructor. He made me who I am today. Don’t worry. I’ll watch him like he’s my own boy.” He turned and put his hand on the latch. “Ready?”

  Chris looked down at his mom, who was hugging the baby tight. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be fine.”

  Captain Burrel had been right. The coast was relatively clear, thanks to most of the shamblers heading toward the explosion. The fire lit up the night sky, bouncing off of what was left of the clouds to help light their way. In single file, the volunteers left their shelter and snuck to the one next door. Captain Burrel tapped out “shave and a haircut” on the door. A moment later, it opened, and Tim peeked out at them. The captain relayed their plan, and they were quickly joined by Tim, Ned and a couple of other volunteers.

  The brief window of time that the explosion had given them was already starting to close. They heard moaning coming from the opposite direction, more shamblers who had apparently found their way through the breach in the fence. As silently as they could, the group made their way across the base toward where Ned’s tank had been parked.

  Their route took them by the farm. As they drew closer to it they heard the sounds of animals in distress. Chris found himself wishing he could have gone his entire life without knowing the sound of a cow screaming in fear and pain. It was mingled with the sounds of squawking chickens, and more moaning.

  “Shelby!” Ned cried, and tried to break for the farm. The others grabbed him and held him back. “Those sons of bitches got Shelby! There might still be a chance for her calf!”