Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1

by Doug Dandridge

  “My mother and father were with my younger sister,” said Fenstermaker. “They were on a trip to the Holy Land. Something my father had always wanted to do. And he wasn’t about to let a little thing like a brewing world war put that off.”

  “Then I pray for both of your families,” said Jackie, bowing her head. “And for mine.”

  “Are you a religious woman, Jackie?” asked the company commander, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  “Not particularly,” she replied, looking over at the man. “I never had much time for God. There were always studies, and sports, and training.”

  “My father was a Lutheran priest,” said the Hauptman, looking up to the sky. “He said that wherever you are, God is with you. In your heart.” Meklis hit his fist against his chest and looked over at the woman. “God promises nothing. Not life, not food, not comfort. What he does promise is strength and courage to face what we must, if we have faith in him and do the next right thing.”

  “And what is the next right thing?” she asked, remembering her recovering uncle who used to always quote those words.

  “To do what we must to protect the people who look to us for protection.”

  Jackie thought about that while she addressed the food in front of her. She hadn’t realized how hungry she had been. She had felt strong and wide awake all day. And she had never felt so strong. Not even when she was competing on the men’s track team at The Point.

  “I will try to remember those words, Hauptman Meklis,” she said, looking over at the man.

  “Do not despair, Fraulien,” said the Hauptman, standing up. “There is always hope. Now, I must see to my men, and make sure they are not goofing off.”

  “I doubt that,” said Jackie under her breath as the two officers walked away. She knew that Meklis loved his men, just as he loved his country and his family. And because he loved them he stayed on them, so they wouldn’t give up their lives to inattention or stupidity. Because now they were the only family he had. Just as the U S Army was the only family she now had.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Halt and give the sign,” called out the cockney accent of the sentry. “Cobra.”

  Major Paul Mason-Smyth halted in place and turned his head toward the sentry.

  “Mongoose,” said the executive officer of the Sherwood Foresters in a loud whisper..

  “Advance and be recognized,” called out the sentry.

  The officer walked smartly toward the post, his eyes barely making out the camouflaged helmet of the man in the fighting position, leaning over a light machine gun.

  “Sir,” said the man, recognizing the officer and straightening to attention, foregoing the salute. They were, after all, in a combat situation, and no one liked to be picked out of the crowd as the commander.

  “How is everything, Private?” asked the Major, standing next to the position and looking out into the night. A night that held who knew what.

  “Good so far, sir,” said the enlisted man, his face somber and intense at the same time.

  Don’t blame him that, thought the Major. After all, they were very definitely in Indian Territory, as the Americans called it. And they were not among their own, like the Germans. While it was almost a certainty that England had been hit by some nukes, and therefore some people from England must be on this new world, they weren’t anywhere nearby. So we get tasked with protecting our old enemies and new allies while our own people could be threatened by something horrible. It didn’t seem quite fair. But then in Paul’s experience life never was.

  “Well, keep the watch Private,” said Paul, turning toward the interior of the perimeter where the company was laagered. “Wake your mate when it’s time to change shifts. No feeling like you’re doing him a favor by letting him sleep.”

  “Aye, sir,” said the Private as the big officer strode away and into the camp.

  Mason-Smyth passed one of the boxy APCs about twenty meters in. The vehicle was parked with its front out, the autocannon turret looking outward into the night. The Major could see the top of the helmet of the crewman doing sentry duty at the night vision scope. A hand waved at him, letting the officer know that the man was awake.

  Not that I would blame him for sleeping, thought the Major. Except he would, since guard duty was serious business. Especially out here in the shit. But everyone was tired from the events of the last two days. It was amazing that most of the men hadn’t lost their sanity.

  Fifty meters further in was a mortar track, again with a single sentry on duty while the rest of the crew slept. Along the winding path through the woods the Major was amazed at the scents of flowers that wafted on the night breeze. This was a beautiful place, to be sure, though he still would have preferred to be in his native Essex.

  The Major approached the company command track in the center of the perimeter. Some lights were strung up within a tent attached to the track. Three moons were up in the sky, so there was a lot of ambient light, even if none of them were full. Paul would have guessed at least a dozen times more than a moonlit night on Earth. Enough to read by, if one strained somewhat.

  “Knock knock,” he called out as he pushed aside the outer flap of the tent. Several men sat within the structure, sipping cups of something hot. They jumped to their feet as their superior officer entered the structure.

  “At ease,” said the Major, waving them back to their seats. “Do you have any more of that beverage, Johnny?” he asked the young Captain who was the commander of A Company.

  “Yes sir,” said the officer, gesturing toward a steaming tea pot which sat on a camp table with sugar, cream and a pair of empty glasses.

  “Decided to do a midnight stroll, sir?” said Lieutenant Mathers, the second platoon leader.

  “Still a bit jumpy about being out here in this wilderness,” admitted Mason-Smyth, himself a city boy. “I’ll be happier when the battalion is joined up with the other two English units we know about. And even happier when we’ve linked with the Krauts and the Yanks.”

  “So you walk by yourself between the companies on this strange world?” said Johnny Peters as Paul poured himself a cup of tea. “No telling what might come out of the night and take you, what. Even a heavily armed chap like yourself.”

  Paul laughed as he taped the haft of the ax that was hanging off the left side of his belt, then touched the butt of his nine millimeter pistol. The ax did not feel out of place on this world, though he knew he would miss the pistol when he ran out of ammo, which would be sure to happen.

  I feel like bloody Conan the Barbarian, he thought. The ax was one he had made for himself on Earth, to match the armor he had fitted. The armor was still in his command car, along with a matched set of sword and parry knife, back with headquarters company. He had practiced a bit with the battle ax earlier and had been amazed at the strength he felt coursing through his body. He knew the gravity appeared to be lighter here. Everyone seemed to comment on how everything was a little lighter. But it was more than that. It was if an energy that he had not felt on Earth was streaming through his every fiber. He thought that if anything came out of the night it might get the shock of its short life.

  Paul took a sip of the tea and smacked his lips in appreciation. Johnny always had good tea in his command tent. Yet another reason to take a walk into the night to A Company. Plus that feeling that something was about to happen in this area. Something that he might need to be in a position to effect.

  “Have a seat, sir,” said the Captain, pulling his feet off the only empty seat around the tac table.

  “Thank you. I will,” said Paul, lowering his muscular bulk into the flimsy chair. “I will enjoy my cup of tea and a little conversation with you chaps, then walk back to HQ and turn in for a bit of sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep when we have more of our friends around us,” said Lieutenant Sanders, the youngest of the platoon leaders. “It’s bloody unnerving to be out in this wilderness with people who would just as soon slit my throat as look at m
e.”

  “Amen to that,” said Paul, nodding. “I was thinking much the same myself while walking over here. But we do have stout English lads guarding us this night. They are professionals, and in my opinion as good of soldiers as we’ll find on two worlds.”

  “Here here,” said the Captain, raising his cup of tea. “A toast to our English lads.”

  “Here here,” echoed the tent.

  “Would the Major care for something to add to the tea to help him sleep?” asked the Captain, pulling a bottle of good scotch from under the table. “Something to toast the King.”

  “I’m all for toasting the King,” said Paul. “Though I wonder what we’ll do for liquor when what we have is gone.”

  “Cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Peters, pouring a dollop into the Major’s out thrust cup. “But enjoy it while we can. To the King. May he reign in every Universe.”

  “To the King,” echoed the company, clinking glasses and bringing them to their lips.

  Paul smacked his lips at the taste of good Scotch, and thought that they just might have to find a way to distill some when it was gone. After all, where there was a will there was a way. And he and the lads had a lot of will.

  * * *

  Private Nathanial Parker felt scared out of his skin as he scanned the night outside his fighting position. He still wasn’t sure how much of this different world thing he believed, but he knew he wasn’t in Germany. The night was bright with the three globes in the sky, especially the light from the largest orb, which was bigger than the moon he was used to and had visible oceans, clouds and greenery on it. But the bright night sky just intensified the shadows that stretched across the landscape and brought out his fears of the unknown. That and the calls that sounded through the night from unknown birds and animals.

  What’s that, he thought when he saw one of the shadows move. He flipped down the night vision glasses on his helmet and stared at that spot in the forest for a moment, but could see nothing move. He flipped a switch on the glasses and changed them to infrared view. The night switched to a series of heat images, but none hot enough to indicate a person or large animal.

  He pushed the goggles up over his helmet and stared again into the night with his mark one eyeballs. Glancing down at his watch, which had been set to what they thought was an approximation of local time, he was glad to note that he should be relieved in another twenty minutes. Let some other sod stand watch and jump at every sound, he thought. He was looking forward to the rest his active mind needed if he was going to go through another day like this.

  * * *

  Breggara could hear the heartbeat of the mortal that was to his front. His Ellala hearing had always been strong. Add to that the hearing of the night hunter and he could find prey by the sound of blood pulsing through their veins alone. He moved through the shadows, the night as bright as day to his vision.

  The prey he was hunting was upright in a hole in the ground, pointing one of their strange weapons into the night. Breggara wasn’t sure what the weapon would do to his kind, but he knew it would have to have great enchantment to actually kill him. And he didn’t think these strangers had enchantments such as that.

  The night hunter could sense four of his brothers and sisters in the darkness, all picking a target at this outer perimeter of the stranger’s camp. All moving in for the first kill of the strangers. Feeling the life force they would take this night. Imagining the lives they would take after the first, as they took down more of the strangers, who were obvious day dwellers, in the shadows of the night.

  The queen will take interest in how these strangers react tonight, he thought, taking a stealthy step forward. Queen of the Undead Kilesandra Lishana was back in the capital of the Empire. It was beneath her to actually have to hunt her prey. Food was brought to her in her chambers, where she was ever accessible by the Emperor.

  The Ellala hunter froze for a second when he sensed the eyes of the human on him. The human pulled something down over his face and continued to look in Breggara’s direction. He fiddled with the device for a couple of seconds, then pushed it back up onto his strange helmet. Whatever it had been it had not revealed the night hunter’s position. The human looked down for a moment, then away to the side. As his vision left the vicinity of Breggara the night hunter moved swiftly and silently forward, calming his own anticipation at the life force within reach.

  Take as many lives as you can, had been the words of the local hunter Lord. Something that was not often countenanced, as the living rulers of the land did not like the hunters to kill many of their servants. Allow them to rise as members of our order, had been the second unusual order. For his people could spread like a plague if they did not stop their own increase. And then all would starve. But the masters wanted these newcomers to experience the full horror that was the undead on this world. And the Ellala Vampire was happy to oblige on this night.

  A little closer he crept, pulling the shadows around him by force of will. The prey still had not noticed him. Then the prey turned fully toward him and its mouth opened, words came out, and it raised its weapon. Too late.

  * * *

  “Halt, who goes there,” yelled Private Nathaniel Parker as the shadow to his front turned into a human form, dressed in black clothing that blended it into the night. The form did not answer, and the mouth opened to reveal an alarming set of teeth that shone in the moonlight. The creature moved forward, red eyes boring into the eyes of the Private.

  Most beings would have been hypnotized by the gaze of a Vampire. In fact the creature’s hypnotic powers were strong enough to overpower the will of the Earth human. But the buildup of nervous energy in combination with training allowed the human to go through the motions of defending himself. Which involved pointing the light machine gun center mass of the approaching creature and pulling the trigger, sending a burst of five rounds into the chest of the monster. The rounds pierced clothing, flesh and bone, exploding redness out into the moonlight and rocking the creature back on its heels. It rocked back quickly though, and continued forward with serpentine grace to tower over the human before he could fire his weapon again.

  Strong hands with ripping talons for nails grabbed the Private by the shoulders, cutting into the fabric of his uniform and digging into the Kevlar of his body armor. He was lifted into the air like he was a baby and not a two hundred pound soldier carrying another forty pounds of equipment. The creature held him out as its mouth opened, revealing the long canines in its upper dentition. The Private could hear the shouts of other soldiers and the banging of weapons as the teeth thrust into his throat. A sharp pain erupted from his neck, and Parker could feel the life flowing out of his body to feed the unnatural life of the Vampire. Blackness clouded his vision while his heart fluttered. His last conscious thought was that death seemed to be a peaceful state of mind. Then he was falling to hit the ground that felt like a bed of feathers, and he knew no more.

  * * *

  Breggara felt the shock as the quintet of small objects blasted through his chest. He had never felt anything like them, something like the heads of arrows with no shafts attached, but traveling much faster and with a lot more energy. His blood spurted into the night and he rocked back with the force of the impacts. The objects went all the way through his chest cavity and exited into the night, and the undead hunter could feel the wounds begin to close instantly, muscle and bone knitting shut. So the weapon did not have enchantment, and the night hunter felt relieved that the weapon did him no more harm than any of the other non-enchanted weapons of this world.

  With a swift movement he was on the human, reaching down and grasping him with razor sharp talons. The claws ripped through the fabric of the stranger’s garment, then stopped as they hit another layer of fabric that seemed somehow stronger. As strong as steel without the enchanted feel that normally went with fabrics that were stronger than they were supposed to be. But the man lifted into the air easily enough, and the night hunter pulled him
forward and sank his fangs into the throat.

  The ecstatic feeling of life force flowed through the connection. He could feel the blood gushing onto his tongue and flooding down his throat. But that was really only the symbolic link to the actual energy of the victim, which the night hunter fed upon, feeling his own strength grow with each gulp. He felt the last vestiges of life leave the body, then he fed a little of his own energy back, instinctively, overriding the training he had been given that kept his kind’s numbers down. With a flick of his wrists he threw the body away from him and tracked onto the next target, while listening to the screams of other men while they were attacked.

  The second victim fired his strange weapon at Breggara, pushing more of the small fast moving pellets through the night hunter. With the same effect, and the undead hunter closed on the prey and took another life, feeding his own reserve of energy and increasing his strength.

  A high pitched scream caught Breggara’s attention as he was focusing in on the third victim. Another night hunter had caught some food that didn’t agree with him, thought Breggara, and he saw one of his brethren, a young female, recoil back from her strike, her mouth smoking as blood bubbled and boiled. The victim was thrown hard to the ground to lay stunned while the female brought a hand up and attempted to wipe the blood from it, while her other hand reached over her belly. The mouth continued to smoke, then burst into flame while the female screamed in fear and agony. Then her belly burst into flame, followed by a stream of blood that flowed like lava through her flesh. The female fell to the ground and twitched in agony as more and more of her flesh flashed into fire.

  Breggara looked around and saw that none of his other brethren had succumbed to whatever that one had gotten. The humans were continuing to fire, and more and more of the night hunters were hit, though none seemed to be taking anything like serious injuries. What they were taking was healing quickly. But Breggara was more interested in whatever force had killed one of the brethren. Because it had obviously come from the body of the human that hunter had attacked, and he did not want a repeat of that effect on himself.