Trail of Tears

by Derek Gunn

  Von Kruger had pulled further ahead and Ventredi struggled to catch up. He looked across at the others and saw that they were struggling as well. Von Kruger was stronger than them. They would follow him to Hell, he knew. He only hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.

  Ahead he could see a swirling of snow and fire. The cloud still hung over the site of the explosion and the wind pulled at him as they approached. The air smelled wrong, stale somehow, noxious. Goosebumps rose across his arms as snow mixed with ash and caressed him as if welcoming him. His senses began to cloud, his eyes could not penetrate the gloom, and his ears were battered by the howl of the winds. Below him he could see a glowing of the fires that still raged. They pulsed, like the heartbeat of some huge beast. Suddenly Von Kruger was in front of him, his face broken into a grin that looked terrifying with its sharp angles and protrusions of bone. He motioned for them to follow him and he swooped into the fires below. Ventredi paused only for a moment and then dropped his shoulder and followed his master.

  * * *

  Von Kruger felt the heat across his body. His skin prickled with the heat, tightening against the bone. His eyes stung and his lungs burned but he welcomed the pain. He had begun to feel lethargic in the last few hours. He had expended so much energy during his rebirth and then had flown across his territory, angling high towards the sun, and laughing at its beams. He had flown far and hard before returning to his lair. The gorging on the human still felt good to him, the warm blood filling his stomach but he no longer had a thirst to quench. But he had begun to grow tired.

  Did he now need to sleep? After all these years lying awake in some hovel as he hid from the Sun’s deadly rays. Hours trapped in a sealed coffin, alone with just his thoughts—his mind racing, plotting, and reliving past glories and defeats. And all the time growing more and more impatient to get back into the air, to tear flesh, to gorge on blood. It was enough to drive anyone to the brink of madness. Were there any sane ancient vampires he wondered? Did he now need sleep once again? Was this the price he must pay for his rebirth? It would be glorious to not to have to think all the time.

  He could still easily outpace his minions, but he felt as he had when the thirst demanded its due. This was different though in that he did not feel hunger, only a heaviness of the limbs. The fires replenished him though and returned to him the awesome strength he had experienced since his rebirth. Maybe this was what he needed, to return to the fires of his birth and bathe in their pure embrace. He watched the chosen of his cabal follow him into the flames. Their clothes disintegrated, their hair burned away. They screamed and he revelled in the pain of their rebirth. Every birth demanded a price of pain and blood.

  They would become like him. The chosen. Gods to rule the earth as he had been destined to do. He had no concerns in making them like him. Their loyalty was assured. He laughed again as he remembered their pathetic cowering when they thought him slain. His twelve chosen were lions when ordered to fight. They had terrorised humans across the known world and had followed him in his new war with the Council and other vampires. But they were sheep without him to command them. They would be the perfect elite soldiers.

  Their cries drifted to him even over the howl of the wind. Snow blinded him, or was it ash? No matter, he imagined he could hear their skin peeling, their bones splintering and growing back stronger than before. A thought suddenly caused him to pause. What would he do when the fires below finally died out? Would the radiation that would cling to the area for hundreds of years be enough to sustain him and his chosen or did they now need the cleansing flames? He didn’t know and the uncertainty made him uncomfortable. His mind began to drift to other concerns, to how he would tear through his enemies, the council…

  He forced his mind to concentrate on the fires below. He had noticed it was becoming harder to think too long on one thing, his mind tended to wander. That was dangerous. He would have to be careful. He would talk to Ventredi. His Lieutenant was good at thinking and planning.

  If the fires died, he would create more. This country was covered in nuclear facilities. All he had to do was ignite the spark and the searing fires would spring to life once again, consuming the old world with them.

  He imagined a world in flames with their power sustaining him and his chosen. Was that his destiny? To set the world alight, to destroy the old and bring a new birth? Was he the first of a new breed or was his destiny to herald in the true end of the world?

  He saw the first of his cabal emerge from the flames below, their faces and features changed. He could see from their expressions that they felt the power he had from his rebirth. They could now join him as his apostles. He would send them forth to spread his rule and between them they would bring a new dawn to all vampires. He looked down at the flames, still raging, consuming everything. He frowned. He saw five, no six figures rise from the shimmering heat haze. Where were the others?

  He saw a figure in the distance struggle. The vampire’s form was shifting so fast that he could barely maintain an upward momentum. It was as if he had lost control of his abilities. Another form stumbled from the flames, but a sudden flash of fire engulfed him and the figure fell screaming. Two more figures struggled to rise and slowly drew closer. Von Kruger’s expression of triumph was still frozen on his face as the first six transformed vampires passed him. They were full of their new power and energy and completely unaware of what was happening to the others. They rushed into the air, revelling in the sunlight.

  Four figures were visible now; one of them struggled to rise with the body of another vampire weighing him down. Von Kruger recognised Ventredi as his Lieutenant helped a younger vampire out of the flames. Ventredi glared at Von Kruger in accusation, but this was not the time. Von Kruger swooped down to help the others and they limped out of the searing flames. Von Kruger’s mind swirled with questions. It was obvious that not all vampires were to be chosen by the flames. But half their number was a huge attrition rate indeed. His domination might not be quite as assured as he had thought.

  Chapter 7

  The room stank of unwashed bodies and fear. Conversations droned everywhere; some cried, others shouted only to be hushed by friends or family and still others stared blankly ahead cutting themselves off from those around them. Peter Harris looked out over the sea of faces and despaired. They had been attacked by a small patrol of these thralls and over five hundred of their number lay dead or dying. How many more were already on their way? The dust had hardly settled on the attack when the call had come out to come to the auditorium. Not everyone was here, of course. Many still roamed the corridors and searched the outposts for loved ones. Medical staff worked feverishly to save those who had been shot, trampled or injured from shrapnel. There still a number of people recovering from the serum that Sandra had brought back from the power plant. These people were like babies, totally helpless for the first few days and required a lot of resources to look after them. Still others packed the small room that served as Father Reilly’s church, praying, shouting their anger or pleading for deliverance from this nightmare. Had any of it been worth it? All the deaths and suffering of the last year, had any of it been worth it if such a small number of thralls could come among them and cause such death and devastation?

  Faces swam in Harris’s mind of the dead. Familiar names like Steele, Carlos Ortega, Dee Ratigan, and Rodgers he had carried for some time, but now he had to add Denis Jackson, Delilah Franklin and Adam Wilkins. Where would it end? He still didn’t know if Sandra would survive; she had lost so much blood and their reserves were so low. Those who had survived were so in shock that they did not think about donating blood so it was a slow process getting the resources they needed to heal the wounded. But they couldn’t corral the survivors to take their blood, wasn’t that the very thing they were fighting against? But to lose even one person due to the lack of a transfusion was unthinkable. That was one of the reasons for the meeting. The other was to decide what the hell they were going to do.


  Outside the temperature had plummeted and the rain had turned to snow. At first it had not stuck to the wet ground and work to identify the dead and bring them to the designated burial area had continued. But it was so cold now that the pools of rain had turned to ice and retrieving the bodies was impossible. Many of the dead were still lying at their posts, already freezing, silent sentinels guarding them for eternity. It seemed a poor reward for saving the lives of the people in this room but there just wasn’t time.

  An estimated five hundred dead, the corridors were already beginning to stink. How could they bury them all? Was a bigger force already surrounding them? Harris had sent out patrols to check their perimeter but the weather was delaying their return. At least he hoped it was just the weather. Philip McAteer had been in the last batch of people Harris and the others had rescued so Harris didn’t know him. He had become the main military figure in the community while he had been gone but, to his credit, he hadn’t batted an eyelid when Harris had thrown out the orders. A few of the men had looked to McAteer for confirmation but the man had merely nodded and the patrols had gone out.

  Harris had pulled McAteer aside and apologised for taking over, but McAteer was a professional and saw the wisdom of the patrols. He had asked for the courtesy of a heads-up before Harris reorganised anything else though and Harris had readily agreed. He was amazed that Regan had had the foresight to put McAteer in charge at all, but the story behind that would have to wait for another time.

  They’d had a few reports from messengers some of the patrols had sent back with initial findings. There was no sign of any further forces, but visibility was poor and a storm was coming in so they could not relax.

  “Come to order,” Phil Regan’s voice was drowned out by his own clattering of a wooden gavel. There were hundreds of people packed into the room, pressed against each other, all of them terrified, and the Council on the raised plinth did not instil confidence. Each of the members looked bedraggled, hollow-eyed and just as terrified as the people looking to them for deliverance. Regan sat in the centre and was flanked by Ian Phelps and John Kelly. The three looked far less dishevelled than anyone else and Harris wondered where they had spent their time during the attack. It certainly had not been standing with Patricia Lohan or Ben Thackery putting their lives on the line for the children. Lohan’s chair was empty; she was still recovering and had two very protective nurses watching over her. Philip Scholes and Paul Williams made up the next two seats and then a woman Harris had never seen before. Penny Arkwright occupied the last seat.

  Regan seemed like a deer caught in headlights as the room quietened and everyone looked to him. Harris didn’t envy him. He and Regan had always been like flint and stone, sparking in almost everything, but Harris never doubted that the man tried to do his best. Yes, he was a coward and yes, he was weak and easily manipulated by others, but he did try.

  “We have experienced a terrible tragedy today,” Phelps began, his face infused with just the right amount of sadness and compassion. “I know you all have questions and we will answer what we can but after this meeting you must trust us for to act on your behalf. There are decisions that have to be made immediately that will decide the fate of everyone here. Decisions that cannot be questioned, or voted upon at every turn.” He paused as he scanned the gathering. “We are the duly elected council and we ask that you trust us to make these decisions on your behalf.”

  Harris frowned. Martial law was what he was talking about. He agreed that the council could not have their every decision voted upon, but he hoped that they would listen to advice before deciding on their course. Accountants, especially ones who had spent most of their time before the vampires had come in a drunken state, did not make good tacticians.

  “How did they find us?” someone shouted and others yelled encouragement.

  “We don’t know,” Phelps raised his hands and motioned for silence. “It might have been pure chance or maybe we ran one too many missions; we will never know. That’s not important now.” Harris almost choked. Phelps had very neatly hinted that Harris and his missions had very probably brought this disaster upon the community. He saw a few people look towards him in anger.

  Stories of his return and his part in saving them were at odds with their belief that he had brought this terrible judgement upon them. He was convinced that if he wasn’t fully armed and dishevelled from the fighting that they would attack him. Of course, it helped that Warkowski stood beside him, looming over the crowd and glaring at anyone who might try.

  “We have to decide what we do now,” Phelps continued. “We will listen to all suggestions and then we will make our decisions for the good of all.” The room filled with suggestions, each one drowning out the next, and Regan had to bang his gavel until the shouted advice was brought under control.

  Harris was amazed. Most of the advice cantered around how to make their community more secure from attack or how to get everyone across town to a new home. Didn’t they realise that they couldn’t stay here, not in this city, not even in this state?

  Harris was bursting to speak but he didn’t know how his thoughts would be received. Would they tear him apart?

  “Are you not going to say anything, my friend,” Warkowski had remained silent until now.

  “I’m not sure they will listen,” Harris sighed and then the decision was taken from his hands.

  “Mr. Harris,” Phelps raised his eyebrows as he spoke, “you have been remarkably silent. Surely you have something to say.”

  Harris glared at Phelps. Many of the people in the room now turned to regard Harris but he wasn’t entirely sure what he was reading in their faces.

  “I’m not certain you will want to hear what I have to say.”

  “I did say we would listen to all suggestions,” Phelps replied and smiled like an alligator, all teeth and no compassion. “Surely these good people deserve to hear you wisdom.”

  Harris knew what Phelps was trying to do but Phelps was right about one thing. These people did deserve to at least hear the stark reality of their situation.

  “First of all,” Harris began and he could see Phelps’ smile grow wider. A trap can spring two ways though and Harris had learned from the last time he had been railroaded. “No one has mentioned the weather.” Harris looked out at the faces watching him and read their confusion. “I am sure you have all noticed that it’s getting colder. Soon we won’t be able to grow crops or even walk outside. The storms are increasing in frequency. There’s a storm outside right now, coming in from the north and bringing with it colder winds and whatever radiation is still airborne. I don’t think better defences will help much when that poison falls on your children.” People began to mutter but Harris wasn’t finished.

  “Adam Wilkins is dead and with him any hope of sustaining the wireless shield so there is no more protection from the vampires. Added to that, the thralls who attacked us were an elite force. They were sent to search this area, most likely as part of a larger search grid to try and find us. The fact that they are dead means Carter now knows where we are. Building defences or moving across town won’t save you. He will hit you with everything he has, tanks, rockets, and swarms of thralls. You won’t last a half day. You need to move. Away from the radiation, away from the thralls, and away from this weather.”

  The room was silent. He could see that his words had hit the crowd hard. Now that the words had been spoken, though, people finally had to consider them.

  “Are you mad,” Phelps asked him incredulous. “Move over two thousand people? Where to? The children wouldn’t last in this cold. We would be caught out in the open, annihilated by vampires from the air. Really, Harris, I expected more from you. And scaring us with the threat of radiation is a low blow. There is no guarantee that it will come this far as you are well aware. The rains would have washed a lot of it into the ground around the blast.”

  Harris shrugged. “No, I’m not mad, Ian. The radiation is a real threat. The distance to the b
last site isn’t that far with these northern winds. The rain will have dampened it, sure, but the smaller particles are still hanging in the air above the storm. As they come to earth the winds could pick them up and carry them here.

  “But that’s a slow death. Anyone who stays here won’t have to worry about the radiation; they’ll be dead within a week. Carter is already on his way here, I can assure you. I met the bastard. There is no compassion in him, just a hatred of what he once was. The weather can work in our favour. The vampires are badly affected by the cold and we can use it to cover our trail. As to where? South would be my recommendation and then west.”

  “He’s right.” The crowd shifted their attention towards the far end of the room where McAteer had gathered with his men. They stood out with their guns and black clothing. Many of them were smeared with blood and their faces were still blackened from weapon discharge. “Those thralls were elite. Sneaky bastards. I looked through their kit and found a map. This whole state is divided up into search grids. I don’t know if they reported their position or not; it’s entirely possible they didn’t until they were sure we were here. If they waited until they came within range of the shield then it would have blocked the radio signal so we might have a day or so. After that they’ll know exactly where we are. I can’t speak for the radiation, but we can’t stay here if those thralls are coming back.”