Shining in Crimson: Empire of Blood Book One (A Dystopian Vampire Novel)

by Robert S. Wilson

  Regardless of what he wanted, next came the red flash taking him somewhere new in another time. It was dark and explosions erupted all around him. He was wearing his camouflage fatigues. One of the devil's men came out from behind the remains of a black truck. The man wore United States Army fatigues. These were the wolves in sheep's clothing. Caesar had taught his army this. The United States had turned away from God. Its government had abandoned him and Joseph Caesar and the Seven Seals of God had brought about God's great war, Armageddon, against them. It was the last war, Simon knew from reading his bible. It would bring about the peace on earth that God had promised.

  Simon pulled the trigger of his fully automatic Ak-47, bringing the man down in an instant. He watched with hatred as the man twitched for a moment then went utterly still. Then, Simon moved forward, stepping over the body, looking for more of them. He kept an eye out at all times for bloodsuckers. Ever since the war broke out, they seemed to be everywhere. They no longer tried to hide except in the light of day. They often attacked men from both sides. The constant spilling of blood had brought them here. He knew now, though he didn't then, why some of the vampires seemed almost human while the others were anything but. It was mostly natural vampires attacking men as they fought for the fate of the country. Either way, he hated them all the same. Except for Peter. Simon hated Peter even more. The sound of explosions echoed in the distance as Simon walked onward beneath a gigantic concrete bridge towering over him. It looked almost black in the moonlight. Simon was just about to look behind himself when the glowing started again.

  Everything became brighter in a brilliant white glare until flashes of red began occurring rapidly at random. This time they brought only images of different times and places in his life. He saw his father slamming the front door when he left for good. He saw his mother in her coffin on the day of her blessed funeral. He saw each and every face of the men he murdered during the great war. Then came the women. The women his disgusting addiction led him to desecrate himself with. He saw his own face struggling between pleasure and abhorrence as he let them tear apart his innocence and feel the pleasures of his flesh. Then, in a blur, he saw the Stratosphere towering in the sky as he felt a burning in his neck. At first he thought he was reliving his death, but then he realized he was physically seeing the Stratosphere.

  The next moment, he became distracted by intense agony all through his body. He was actually feeling his body. He was still lying on the sidewalk, the top of his head pressed against the brick building. But there was something else and it was all wrong. The side of his neck burned. Long black hair spread all around his right shoulder draping over different parts of his face. He screamed out hoarsely as he understood what he was feeling in the side of his neck and what the black hair belonged to. The thing smelled of mold and something else much more vile. As the burning spread out through all his veins, Simon’s panic mixed with confusion as he remembered he hadn't felt this way the first time being bitten. The sensation changed. It felt electrifying. His limbs vibrated with pleasure. He felt the vampire's fangs slide, somewhat painfully, out of his flesh. It reminded him of getting stitches after the numbing shot. The tingling he felt all through his body was much more important to him at this moment. The vampire stood up, fully in Simon’s view, and looked down at him. Its eyes were completely black and it smiled at him. Scraps of old black fabric hung from the crude dark tunic covering the natural vampire. Simon lay there motionless, afraid to do anything. A split second later, the thing burst into the air, still smiling down at him as it flew. Then, in a flash blurring southeast, it disappeared.

  Simon didn't get up for a long time. He watched the stars in the sky. He could see countless more than ever before, even on the clearest of nights. He could see water particles hanging in the air and small wisps of cloud beyond the vision of any human being. A wave of revulsion went over him as he realized what had happened, what he had become. He recalled all the years he had spent building his righteous life. He thought of all the horrible things he would have to do now if he was going to survive. His mind raced through his memory for everything he could recall about the filthy abominations. He began to sob as he lifted into a sitting position, bringing his knees to his chest. Tears flooded down his face. Even his emotions seemed to be amplified.

  He gripped the knees of his pants as he wept bitterly, ripping them. He looked at the torn material in both of his fists and threw it at the ground. He used his right shoulder to wipe away some of the tears. As soon as his shoulder was close, he smelled what he knew to be Peter's scent there. He wasn’t sure how he knew this, he just knew. His pain and horror faded to the back of his mind. He stood up quickly and deliberately. He could sense a trail of motion with Peter's scent. His heart was screaming out "Kill him." Simon made no hesitation. He broke into a run that caused the concrete and blacktop below him to burn into the rubber of his shoes. The friction of the wind warmed his body as he began following the scented trail. An exciting feeling came from inside his mouth. His canines extended. A shudder went through his body as he imagined himself ripping Peter apart with his bare teeth.

  Chapter 7

  The Shadow of Death

  A shrill scream came from behind Hank and echoed off the surrounding houses. Although it was distant, Hank recognized the shrieking. It sounded just like the first vampire he’d encountered. He hooked his thumbs in the straps of his backpack, took a deep breath, and ran. He could see nothing but abandoned houses and empty streets. He veered toward the house closest to him. The house had a more modern style than most of the others. What little he could make out of the fading, cracked paint on the outside walls was a very dull gray.

  The screeching sounded again, coming without an echo this time. Hank looked back as he ran and saw three dark figures flying above the houses several blocks behind him. He faced forward again just in time to see the far corner of the house right in front of him. He grabbed it and slid down onto the dusty ground beside the structure as if he were sliding into home.

  Peeking around the corner of the house, lying on the ground, Hank could see the creatures still coming for him. Sense of smell, you idiot, he thought. Hiding was of no use unless he could hide somewhere that would block his scent. He sat back against the house, scrambling to figure out what to do. He thought about drinking more blood and making a good run for it. But after his recent clash with his surroundings, he decided that would not work.

  His next thought also involved drinking more blood but this time using its power to help him fight back against the monsters. But he knew he would have to use the remaining blood he had in order to pull it off. He was sure he couldn’t do that if he wanted to make it the rest of the way out of the city alive.

  A loud, piercing scream came from one of the vampires and echoed strangely off of the next house. They were much closer now. The instant the sound hit his ears, he jumped to his feet out of animal instinct. Seeing a solitary reflection of neon glow halfway toward the back of the building, he went directly for it. If he was right, the light reflected off a window. As he came closer, he confirmed it.

  The window hung low enough that he might be able to climb in if he could open it. He tried to push up on the window. It wouldn’t budge. He took a few steps back away from the house. Then with a running start, he jumped, shoulder first, and slammed into the glass, hitting it with a thud. He fell backward from the spring of the impact. The window seemed to stare back at him unimpressed.

  A shrill rattle pierced through his ears. He looked up and could barely see the outline of a figure coming into view just above the roof of the house. Two glassy black eyes from the pale face of the figure were the only things peering out from the darkness.

  * * *

  When Peter arrived at the top of the tower, he wasn't surprised at all by the less-than-warm welcome he received. As he opened the door leading out to the round balcony of the tower, he found all four of the other vampires waiting eagerly at their table when he knelt timidly befo
re Ishan. This did surprise him. Ishan sat at the head of the table as he always did.

  "Where is this convict and why have you not brought him to us?" Ishan asked while motioning for Peter to stand.

  "I almost had him. I followed the sound of his heartbeat to an old house and timed it perfectly. But he moved almost as fast as we can," Peter said.

  "You expect us to believe this?" Ishan asked.

  "Wait. There's more. His strength was like mine as well. That, combined with the blade he carried, gave him the upper hand over me," Peter explained in a rush. The council members not openly pitying Peter showed him obvious contempt. He looked at them pleadingly. Ishan gazed back at him with a dark expression.

  "Only a human vampire could match your speed and strength, Peter. What could you possibly gain from letting this man go?" Ishan asked.

  "No, he had a mortal heartbeat. I have nothing to gain from trying to deceive you. You have to understand. This man was different. He was..." Peter began shaking his hand in mid air as if the words were there for him to catch. "He - he - I could smell the blood of the ancestors on his breath," he finally got out in a quick, excited shout. A change came over each vampire's expression. They were all intrigued and some of them even a little confused. But Ishan looked concerned.

  "The blood of the ancestors?" Rachel asked as they all stared at Peter in awe.

  "Yes, it was on his breath and I could also smell some more. I think it was contained somewhere within a backpack he wore. In some sort of sealed container, I think. The smell was weak but different than just a trace would be. It was almost... subtle," Peter said beginning to calm down. He followed the rest of his equals as they turned their eyes to Ishan who sat in intense concentration.

  "Where is this man now?" Ishan asked.

  "He was traveling west. I came to warn you as quickly as I could. I sent four ancestors after him. The four of them should be able to finish him quickly if they haven't already."

  "No," Ishan said, bursting from his chair, lunging toward Peter and grabbing him violently by the collar. Peter's ancient master was beginning to frighten him. He now witnessed more emotion from the vampire than in the entire two centuries he had known him. He was unable to keep from showing the shock that he knew was all over his face. He opened his mouth to offer retrieving the man when, in a flash, Ishan was gone. The rest of the council sat, their mouths still gaping.

  * * *

  Hank's heart beat at an alarming rate as he looked up at the vampire circling the sky above him. The other two were getting louder now as they approached nearer to his position. He rose from the ground clutching his shoulder. He tried again to push the window up. As his hands slipped over the glass surface, more screeching bellowed out above him. He made a decision before he could stop himself and knelt down low as the vampire’s screams bounced off the nearest house. A moment later the backpack was open and he took a small, calculated swallow from the red thermos that was now very nearly empty. In movements faster than he could carry out or witness without the blood, he put the thermos in the backpack and slung it into place. Then he jumped, somersaulting himself through the window with a loud crash of breaking glass.

  For a split second he landed on his feet then fell backwards onto the dark, hardwood floor inside the house. He put his hands out to catch himself and cut open his right palm on some of the glass scattered on the floor. His hand started to heal before his eyes as he stood up staring at the seemingly magical process. Then, he looked around the room. The walls were colored with a light wood finish. The room seemed to be empty save for some familiar silver stringy patterns draped in random places.

  The screeching came again, grabbing his attention. This time it seemed to be causing a strange reaction in him. He not only heard the sound with his ears but he also heard it in his head. Only, in his head, he heard it as very simple words he could understand. The words he heard were man and house. When this clicked in his brain, Hank ran toward the back of the house looking for some sort of escape route. As the kitchen came into view, he saw a downward stairway and ran for it.

  When his momentum brought him headlong into the linoleum-floored kitchen complete with ancient pale appliances, he found the floor in this room much slicker than where he’d taken off from. His feet slipped out from under him and he fell hard on his back. He felt a slight crack in his vertebrae and then a moment of excruciating pain later it seemed to be gone. He quickly lifted himself up from the floor and dove for the stairway as the sound of shattering glass filled the room from every direction.

  As if to corroborate what Hank was hearing, a sharp pain shot through his left shoulder blade. He reached back and touched a piece of glass with his hand. One of the dirty, powdery-faced creatures watched him with cat-like eyes as it struggled to get the rest of the way through the window. Hank pulled out the piece of glass, turned, and threw the blood-smeared shard at the vampire. It stuck into the creature's chest, unnoticed. Hank turned back around and quickened his pace. He had no idea where he was going and started to realize he might not have anywhere to go. He was glad he drank the vampire blood when he did since he could now see well inside the lightless basement. He hoped against hope the basement might lead to some sort of trap door or otherwise hidden exit he could use to escape the house and his pursuers.

  Another screech came from upstairs sounding inside his head as simply underground. The sound was followed by several explosions of wood, insulation, and drywall all around him. He was surrounded by a white cloud of dust beginning to clear and revealing three vampires poised like cats ready to attack.

  One of them jumped on Hank's right shoulder and sunk its teeth into the back of his neck. Hank leaned forward, grabbed the vampire with his left arm, and flung it over his body, causing the vampire's teeth to rip out a chunk of his flesh. A strong burning sensation came from the wound as he lunged forward before the other two vampires could get hold of him. As he came forward, the vampire he’d thrown got back up just in time for Hank to slam into him head-on. Then, inertia kept the two bodies going and they smacked into the cement wall. The vampire fell to the floor and seemed to be scooting away. Hank was a little dizzy but otherwise okay.

  He shook his head for a moment to bring back reality. He took a quick look at the wall then back behind himself. The wall was solid, a clear dead end. The two vampires still in the fight were launching forward, their yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. Hank saw them in the dark in a sort of negative film view as they flew toward him.

  He went for his machete, but it was too late. One of the vampires latched onto his right shoulder with its teeth. The other grabbed hold of his arm and sank its teeth in, its eyes glazing over. Hank's right hand rested on the machete handle as they drank his blood where he stood. He tried to shake them off and pull the machete free.

  The pain in his shoulder made it daunting to lift his right arm with the weight of the blade. But he managed to punch the vampire in the face, knocking it loose from his shoulder and freeing the machete at the same time. He brought it upward from its sheath, striking the vampire he just knocked from his shoulder underhand.

  The blade sliced open its abdomen and the creature fell backward onto the floor. He then brought the blade back towards himself and thrust it into the other one's back. The vampire broke free from his arm and hissed at him as it tried to make its way for his neck. He tackled the creature from himself and bolted for the stairway that brought him into the basement.

  He made it to the top of the stairs with one long jump. Then he leapt again even farther, sending himself through the opening that had been the window the vampire came through. As he fell to the ground, he heard new screeching from directly above him. He fell about ten feet down to the ground and landed on his hands and knees. He sprang clumsily to his feet and ran toward the neighboring yard.

  He could move without any pain now. After a few minutes of running through the dust and tumbleweeds, he heard two screeches erupt in the air just behind him. He turned to j
udge their distance, turned back, and without nearly enough notice, saw a tan wooden fence he hadn’t spotted before. Right after seeing the fence, he struck it hard with his entire body, unable to slow himself down in time. He busted through and fell face down on the ground.

  Before he could get back up, the two vampires behind him had leapt on him, holding him down to the ground and sinking their teeth in his back. He tried to struggle, but could feel the life force drain from him as they helped themselves to his blood. The extra senses started to fade and he started to panic. Before long, his normal vision became blurry and the sounds of the creatures sucking his blood faded off in the distance.

  Hank no longer had the strength to hold back his pain. He wept as Diana's pale, lifeless face appeared in his mind’s eye. She looked just like she had the day he buried her. Except for the mouth. Her long, silky, straight black hair framed her face and her vivid, blue eyes looked desolately into nothing. But now two long pearly fangs protruded downward from her mouth. Her soft lips formed into a savage grin. The image abruptly vanished as two more pairs of fangs pierced into his flesh.

  * * *

  In what were to him a series of simple motions, Ishan caught the scent of the man from Peter's body, turned, and dove off the side of the tower in the span of a microsecond. The wind gusted up around him as his body fell toward the pavement below, the man's scent still fresh in his mind. The experience wasn't particularly thrilling to him, though it was certainly a break from his usual routine. What was really compelling, he thought as he plummeted, was what Peter had told him about the convict. Convicts didn't last long in the city. It never dawned on Ishan the blood of the ancestors might, on its own, have any effect on a human. From what the human vampire scientists had learned so far, the ancestors produced a venom that, when released into a human blood stream, caused the transformation from human to human vampire.