Vampire's Day (Book 1): Epicenter

by Hamaganov, Yuri

  9. Priority

  “Look!”

  “No way,” Officer Colvin said, looking towards where his partner pointed. They had been called here, but they knew nothing, and were preparing for the worst. The reality surpassed all expectations. They heard shooting, voices through the radio talked about riots, overhead buzzed a couple of helicopters, and a completely naked girl ran straight towards them. No, correction, she was not quite naked – she wore black high-heeled boots and had a phone in her hands, but that was all. The girl ran into the middle of the street, howling and waving her hands. They needed to stop this violation of public order.

  “Stop!”

  Colvin confidently grabbed Stacy, and pulled her to him, feeling the heat of her body.

  “Hey, lady, stop… fuck!”

  “What's happening?”

  His partner saw something grab Colvin on his right leg, and, at the same moment, it seemed as though a huge wasp clutched his shoulder.

  “What a bitch shoots? Come out, bastard!”

  Number Eight didn’t go when Colvin’s partner call and ran into the alley, where a minute ago drove a fire truck. Priority, he reminded himself, priority. Fire: hot flame created a few minutes ago by a bottle of Molotov cocktails, greedily devouring the remains of a liquor store.

  The fire brigade deployed its equipment, the chief shouting something into his mike. At the far end of the street several people, somewhere near the brakes howled, then a heavy blow, clinking glasses and triggered alarm.

  Raise, aim, fire. He don’t shoot the residents; he needs the firefighters. Shot, shot, shot. The Chief saw him a second before Number Eight caught him in his rifle sight, and he even managed to pull the pistol, but the air rifle was faster, striking his shoulder. The firefighter recoiled a step, but didn’t drop the gun, and exchanged a couple of shots, although he didn’t manage to hit anything.

  Sirens, gunshots, helicopter noise, screams - all this is becoming too loud and Number Eight decided to hide in a nearby house, but then he saw the ambulance. He slid behind a dumpster, waited a few seconds, and then fired from a distance of three meters into a passing car, right in the open window.

  “Doc, hold on!”

  “I'm OK, it's only a scratch!”

  “We were supposed to meet the police here, but I don’t see them. What's going on, doc?!”

  10. Mr. Johnson

  “We have to run!”

  “No, it’s better to stay here, under police protection, as ordered. You hear the sirens? They have already pulled more cops here, so now it’s better to stay in the building and not leave.”

  “Is that Rodney King again?”

  There were five people in the small grocery store - the shopkeeper and four customers. Mr. Johnson had come here with his granddaughter to buy her an ice cream when the shooting started, and then a police car drove up and the crew via speaker ordered citizens in the vicinity not to leave their houses, while they imposed order on the situation. When asked how much time it would take, they were unable to give a reply.

  “What's in the news?”

  The shopkeeper mumbled something unintelligible in his own language, and switched channels on a small TV. The same story was featured on all channels: live news about riots all across the city. The first reports had come in half an hour ago, and since then more and more, but nobody seemed to know yet who had organized these riots and why. Many had already been killed and wounded. The police had shot someone, and someone had shot a policeman in retaliation. Firefighters were being called to more and more fires, and citizens were being advised not to leave their houses.

  “Look!”

  A pair of cops had detained a completely naked girl, handcuffed her and put into the back seat of their car, despite her cries of protest. It seemed that one of the cops was lightly wounded, but where and when he received the wound, Johnson couldn’t see.

  “No, we have to run!”

  Opinions were divided, and two customers left the store, but the cops didn’t pay attention to them, their focus elsewhere.

  “Take it.”

  Mr. Johnson gave the shopkeeper a couple of bills, removed a bag from a rack and began to throw in a bar of chocolate, canned meat and other objects that he thought might be useful in this situation, including batteries, a tool kit with a hammer, and a medical patch.

  “What are they doing?!”

  The cops roughly dragged the naked girl out of the car and threw her onto the hood. They raped her, thought Johnson in shock, squeezing the handle of the hammer, they rape… A moment later, he realized that he was wrong. They didn’t rape her, they killed her. One grabbed her throat, and the second tore into her shoulder with his teeth.

  “Shut the door!”

  The shopkeeper pressed a button hidden under the counter, and the lock clicked loudly. The cop looked up from his feasting and stared at them with bloodshot eyes. He no longer looked like a human being. His hand reached for holster.

  “Run through the back door!”

  The shopkeeper grabbed his shotgun, jumped over the counter and disappeared into the back room. Johnson followed him, pushing his crying granddaughter. On the screen the local channel showed a screaming anchor girl as the studio door behind her was beaten with a heavy object.

  11. Family business

  The sign on the door showed ‘closed’. Usually the shop was open through lunches and weekends, fourteen hours a day without fail, no matter what happened. But today they were closed.

  There was a knock on the glass door. Mr. Clarence looked up and saw through the glass a girl of about twelve years on roller skates, with large black knee and elbow pads, and a bright orange helmet on a light brown head. She wore jean shorts and a white T-shirt featuring an anime cartoon princess, drenched with blood from a ruptured throat. Pressed against the glass, the girl on roller skates noticed him and she wanted to get inside, pounding on the door with bloody hands. The glass was durable, and she can’t break it, but others could see her, and she was bringing too much attention to the shop.

  Clarence took a chrome-plated Walther PPK in left hand, turned the key and opened the door. The girl threw herself at him, and then froze, her large gray eyes staring at the shopkeeper.

  “Go away! Shoo!”

  Clarence pushed her back on the sidewalk; she grabbed the lamp post, to keep from falling. Then she noticed some people nearby - neighbors who were quickly loading up their car. The girl pushed away from the pole and skated towards them, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

  Clarence peered outside, watching the TV news helicopter, and then locked the door, took out a cell phone, read the message and put it back. A police car with flashing lights and howling sirens drove down the street, in the sky to TV helicopter joined Marines Black Hock. There, where the girl has gone, the shooting started.

  Clarence walked briskly across the shop, headed around the counter and went through the small door leading to the garage. Inside there were welding lights, crashing tools, and the smell of hot steel - work was in full swing here.

  “They are here,” he said to his wife, who was standing at the welding equipment. He raised a sledgehammer and went to the far wall, where large white bricks were lying. He had finished removing these bricks half an hour ago, and now only thin plasterboard separated them from the house next door.

  There was a sudden knock-knock on the plate, first twice, then three, then two. Clarence knocked three times in response, raised the sledgehammer and, with a few strong blows demolished the plate, opening a passage for his early guests. Here they were – two men and a woman – all three in medical suits, weapons are not visible.

  “Why make it so difficult? Why we couldn’t enter through the main entrance?”

  “There is a police camera installed in the house at the front, it might still work. And the arrival of the ambulance crew to the neighbors behind the wall will not cause any suspicion. Those neighbors will not be able to say that they didn’t call any doctors, I have visi
ted them in the morning.”

  12. Clash

  “Fuck off!”

  The creature, which was, a few minutes ago, a naked girl in high black boots, was not going to fuck off. Instead, she again rushed into the attack; the board in his hands didn’t frighten her. She jumped at him from the corner, at the same moment that he ran across the street from his crashed car. Their short trip ended at the crossroads when he drove with one hand and beat Doc, who tried to grab his throat. They landed on a crashed car, the driver saved by his seatbelt, and Doc was thrown against the pawnshop wall. The driver didn’t stop to find out what had happened to him. He ran to where he could see police car lights, at a time when she attacked him. Girl was of medium height and thin, but the driver was thrown to the pavement, as easily as a billiard ball.

  “What are you doing, bitch?!”

  The girl didn’t explain her behavior, and repeated the attack, and only then did he notice that her eyes were the same as Doc’s eyes. He also noticed a laceration on her neck. It looked as though it should be a fatal wound. She should have died from blood loss, why hasn’t it happened? He reached out for the board and sent a heavy blow to her right knee.

  “Fuck off, bitch!”

  Her hands were cuffed behind her back, so she fought only with her head and legs. He figured that this gave him a decent chance against her, so he attacked, breaking her jaw and giving several hard blows to the head.

  “My God.”

  There was no pulse, she was clearly dead. Why had she died now, and not a few minutes earlier from the huge blood loss?

  “My God.”

  He heard steps. A police officer arrived.

  “I didn’t want to kill her, but she attacked me and I had to, it was self-defense. I had no choice, do you hear me? She probably contracted rabies, she tried to bite me…”

  He didn’t finish, because now he could clearly see the bloodstained uniform jacket, ragged wound and Officer Daniels’ eyes. The driver jumped away from the corpse of the girl and ran away. He ran and ran until was caught by Daniels’ bullet.

  13. Family business 2

  “When did you buy this store?”

  “Twelve days ago I was issued with the papers. I bought it on credit; on Friday I made the first payment, and next four days accepted the goods.”

  “These are your men?”

  “Yes, laborers. Yesterday I hired them for the day. All three can drive, shoot and know the city well, which in this case is very important. Here, look.”

  The host brought the guests to three vans that stood at the gates.

  “Four-wheel drive, reinforced brake system, an ignition I tested personally. The doors, hood and gas tank are covered with steel plates. The keys are in the ignition, and they have full tanks.”

  Clarence threw back the tarpaulin - in the back were green wooden boxes.

  “That's all I managed to buy. I understand that you hoped for more, but I had no time. Handguns – thirty-six pieces, shotguns – forty-nine, semi-automatic rifles – thirty-one, a total of one hundred and sixteen, plus ammunition. Radios, spare batteries, flashlights, maps, flares - all are here. It is for the first time, the rest took on the ground, like a trophy.”

  “Good. Where will our base be?”

  “Look carefully.”

  Clarence laid out the map of the city.

  “Here, here and here – large parking’s, helicopters and drones can’t keep track of what is happening inside, the CCTV systems are disabled. Here you will collect the first groups and send them down to the city. My team will be at location number four, there is a good workshop.”

  “So, let's not waste time.”

  The gates opened very quickly - just a few seconds and the first pickup left the garage, followed by the second and third, then the gates were lowered just as quickly. After escorting his guests to their tasks, Clarence took a small radio, gave a few orders and returned to work.

  “The kids are back,” his wife said, as she opened the steel door and let in a boy and a girl of about sixteen, carrying sports bags, in which they hid air rifles.

  “I made nineteen hits, including two cops and an emergency doc.”

  “I made twenty-three, but no cops - only a couple of firefighters and some repairers. The rest are civilians, they ran in the right direction.”

  “Excellent. The new wave of hungry will attack the cops who are trying to keep the south and the city center. Their defense will be crushed. Help Mom with her loading.”

  The children fill the last car with boxes of weapons and items, putting a few short, thick tubes on top.

  “What are these?”

  “Home-made mortars, I saw these in Afghanistan. They’re primitive, but they work. There are mines in those green boxes, be careful. Is that all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let's go.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Clarence, with their children, promptly jumped into the car and left almost immediately. Mr. Clarence shouted, “Give it five minutes and then go!”

  His men complied with his order with precision. They waited five minutes, then opened the gate and drove out of the garage on light motorcycles with big black bags on the pillion seat. The last one slowed and threw a burning match into a big puddle of gasoline spreading from the overturned two hundred liter barrels. Meanwhile, the first one had reached the intersection. He stopped at a hydrant, pulled heavy steel coils out of his bag and threw them onto the road. The metal clanged on the asphalt, and turned into a long spiked strip. Thirty seconds later, these spikes pierced the wheels of the first car, which crashed into a lamp post at full speed. Another twenty second passed and the spikes pierced the next car.

  14. Crossroads

  “We urgently need reinforcements!”

  “Call the medics!”

  “We have two dead and one injured…”

  “Firearms, repeat, there are firearms being used against us!”

  “Civilian casualties, the number isn’t clear, a lot of…”

  “I was forced to open fire…”

  “No connection to the third car…”

  “Repeat, didn’t obey…”

  Number Three listened to the police radio, noting with satisfaction that things were moving according to plan, and perhaps even more swiftly than originally intended. Panic was growing, covering more and more city areas, with the enemy rapidly losing control of their forces. It was necessary now to continue on the offensive, keeping the momentum high.

  “Faster, come on! At the crossroads you’ll get help, don’t stop. Faster, you need to evacuate quickly!”

  The crossroads ahead was blocked by a pair of police cars, with an ambulance stood behind them. She counted five patrols and a couple of doctors. They had been sent here without any explanation about what to do, simply because no one knew what was going on. They heard shooting from the back of the block and saw running civilians. Women and children at the front, she needs a lot of noise.

  “Officer, what's happening?!”

  Police uniform, sewn especially for her, didn’t disappoint, camouflage worked.

  “Terrorists, fanatics! There are about twenty, all with rifles and hand grenades – they are shooting everyone, going from house to house. We were ambushed and they killed my partner. I received orders to withdraw the civilians. We need help, we have many wounded!”

  “I wasn’t informed about this. Do they have a hostage?!”

  The senior officer didn’t finish because shooting started from the top floor of three-storey house at the next crossroads. Two civilians were killed, and the driver of the police car was seriously injured – all according to plan. Officers opened fire in response, while the doctors tried to evacuate the civilians. Sheltered in the porch, Number Three used her service weapon a couple of times, firing in the direction of the attackers, and then extracted from her sleeve a small air pistol.

  In the rage of the brief battle the police officers and doctors didn’t notice the tiny wounds caused by the little b
ullets. The clock is ticking. After a maximum of six minutes, the shooting will stop and this crossroads will be captured, the same as the previous two. Number Three waited, occasionally looking out of the window for another patrol team, or fire truck. She continued listening to the radio – the panic rose further.

  15. Ark

  If a driver used the same car for a long time, he usually gave it a name, and Miss Gloria was no exception - she had driven this bus for seven years, and called it Ark. She was not particularly religious, and the story of Noah and his friends didn’t mean a great deal to her; she just liked the name, a symbol of peace and security in the middle of road chaos. At the moment it was quiet on Ark board, although she didn’t like what was happening outside.

  “Miss Gloria, we're already late!” A girl in the front row with a ponytail looked at her expensive wristwatch. The driver peered at the digital clock on the dashboard and agreed with the girl - they were late.

  “Today the entire city is late, don’t worry. I'm sure that the school principal already knows about it.”

  Over the years she has driven Ark and carried children on board, there have been many times that she had to stand in traffic jams. Usually jams occurred due to the fault of another incompetent driver or someone speeding, imagining himself to be a Formula 1 racer.

  But today the road was blocked by police – she couldn’t remember a similar case. What these guys doing here, trying to catch some crazy in a stolen sports car? But the road has been blocked for a long time, and the police have simply stopped traffic, why? She thought she knew the answer, and it is one she doesn’t like – it must be because of the hijack of a plane at the airport, and the reported shooting.