by Derek Gunn
“Oh, she’s not too bad, I suppose,” Amanda answered, and then she blushed as she realized she still held his arm. Maybe I could make an exception in this case, he thought. It has been so long after all.
“I hope you won’t think me too forward.” Sherman dropped his eyes again as he continued. “But would you be free later? Maybe we could …”
He left the sentence open ended and waited.
She reached for his arm again. “I’d love to.” She smiled and her smile was far more knowing and mature than her years. They arranged to meet later after her shift, and she quickly shuffled back towards the medication trolley. He continued looking at her as she hurried away, and he shrugged. This might work out better than he had thought. He might even be able to learn a little about the more toxic medications from her before he gutted her. He preferred them far more innocent, but any port in a storm would do for now. Whistling gaily, he followed her directions and knocked on the door to number four and entered to visit a pleased, but surprised, Steele.
Preparations continued all through the day, and Major William Carter watched it all with a growing sense of dread. It was only when the sun rose that the full reality of the night’s violence had become clear. He had stood shaking on his armored vehicle as he watched the darkness peel slowly back, revealing more torn bodies and shredded metal than he could count with each passing moment. The dawn’s weak orange glow cast its eerie light over the grisly scene. Smoke from the gutted vehicles spread a thin veil, almost like a morning mist, that thankfully obscured the scenes in the distance. He had no doubt that the carnage hidden beyond the veil mirrored the slaughter he could already see but he was thankful that he was spared the full impact of the night’s madness. He considered clearing the worst of the debris and burying the bodies, if for no other reason than because the sight of the terror on some of the faces of the thralls unnerved him. But there just wasn’t time.
He had to prepare for when the vampires came back. He couldn’t give a shit what they did further along the border, but he wanted his designated area to be presentable and defensible. The border he was now in command of spanned a distance three times the size of that which he had been in charge of last night. And he had no more guards or resources to police it and prepare for the coming darkness.
That was another problem, as well. Von Kruger had not left any word as to his plans for the oncoming night so Carter would have to prepare his men both offensively and defensively so as to cater for whichever mood Von Kruger woke up in. He had seen the brief and violent meeting of the vampires, thankfully from a distance, but the unexpected escalation terrified him.
He had never seen vampires attack each other before—for that matter; he had never seen vampires actually attack anyone before. Their power was more assumed than witnessed, mainly because there were no survivors of any action taken against the vampires themselves. Once they had revealed their presence to the world two years ago they had already gathered a large number of soldiers and it had been the thralls who had fought and died for their new masters. It seemed that they were about to fight and die again now two years later, only this time the masters themselves were doing some of the killing. He knew that the vampires frequently disagreed over territory and resources, but he had never heard of those disagreements escalating to this scale before.
His main worry now was not the actual extent of the deaths he had witnessed but more that it had been his report that had set this whole situation into motion. This was no time for any of the vampires to begin to question what had led them to these circumstances in the first place. He would have to make sure that he was ready for anything and had everything under control so they did not look to apportion blame in his direction.
His men grumbled that they had had no sleep or food since yesterday. They also complained about the bodies and that they would begin to smell as the day progressed. He had told them plainly that they were free to clear away any bodies after they had dug enough trenches, cleaned and checked the engines of those vehicles that were still operational, topped up the fuel and generally ensured they were ready to move out at a moments notice if required. He had also reminded them that they were free to explain their discomfort to Von Kruger when he returned if they so desired. As he expected, no one was up for that so the complaints died away during the morning.
Carter spent the rest of his morning doing an inventory of his supplies, men and equipment so that he would be fully briefed when the vampires asked. It wasn’t a situation he was looking forward to reporting. He had two hundred thralls, having added to his previous compliment with the stragglers from those areas that had been attacked last night.
Wentworth’s men had been incredibly successful during their raid, frighteningly so, and more than a hundred thralls lay dead along the border. The number of dead didn’t worry him half as much as the fact that he had been only a few feet away from being one of the dead himself. The equipment, though, was far more worrying. Twenty tanks had been completely destroyed, nine more could be scrapped once they salvaged the parts that still worked, and five more were too damaged to move but could be used defensively. That only left him with a further eight tanks in his section that were fully serviceable. He had twelve trucks, having lost just three of those, and fourteen armored cars remained from a pool of twenty-two.
He had no idea what the situation was in the other sections but if they were anything like his then Von Kruger would go demented when he found out. Though, based on his actions last night Carter believed the Vampire Master was already mostly beyond reason as it was.
He decided to spend the afternoon trying to work out a way he could report the bad news and still retain his head.
Chapter 16
The community was in an uproar when they heard Dee Ratigan’s breathless report. She had driven all the way on a motorcycle, disregarding many safety guidelines put in place to protect the community, in her rush to tell the others what was happening. No one thought to reprimand her when they heard her news though. Details were carried by word of mouth more swiftly than the official runners could hope to match, and each retelling led to more and more embellishments to a story that, in reality, was already terrifying. It was shocking enough that a war had started but the news of the preparations to cater for large numbers of humans in the border town could only mean one thing: The vampires were coming in force. And that made their own situation a precarious one.
“You see,” Regan spluttered as he shouted to be heard above the general din of panicked conversation in a vain attempt to regain control and mask his own growing dread. “This is exactly what I warned against from the start.” He paused for a moment as he tried to stop his hands from shaking and hid his discomfort by slamming one palm on the table as he thrust out his other hand and pointed at Harris. “You’ve brought them to our very doorstep, Harris.”
The committee had hurriedly called a meeting to discuss the situation but it had quickly degenerated into chaos. Harris sat quietly and listened on one level to the rising din of overly loud voices around him but his focus was miles away on a border that was about to erupt into chaos. His mind was not on the danger the situation posed, but on the opportunity it presented.
“Now, it’s hardly on our doorstep.” Father Reilly tried to calm the room by speaking calmly, though with no less volume than Regan. The other members of the committee seemed to sense the calm of his tone and a number of them stopped their own conversations to listen. There was still a low din of whispered conversations but these too dwindled away as they seemed to notice the quiet descending over the room. “I mean,” Reilly continued in a softer tone than still held those around the table riveted to what he was saying. “The border is nearly a hundred miles away.”
“What if it escalates?” Regan countered. “What if they come here?” Wisely he did not ask any other questions. Panicked he may be, but he knew how to command a room and he could see that he had struck a nerve.
Father Reilly, too, knew when
to speak and when not to. There was no answer he could give. The vampires could very likely come here either to seek aid from their neighbor or even as an independent witness in the escalating struggle. Even if they did not come looking for Nero it would be very suspicious if Nero did not guard his own borders with forces of his own. In such a situation it would not take long for them to discover the fledgling human community, and that would only serve to unite the vampires against them.
They were in trouble either way as far as he could see.
Reilly looked over at Harris. His presence at the meeting in full combat fatigues made it clear that his attendance was merely a formality as far as he was concerned. He had already decided what his next course of action would be and it did not involve hiding away and hoping the situation would resolve itself. Reilly knew that even though Harris sat at the table his mind was already planning how he could use the distraction of the conflict to rescue some of the people that would be brought to the front to feed the vampires. Reilly sighed. While it was admirable that he was trying to help others, he cursed Harris’ shortsightedness. Why couldn’t he see past his burning need to save others? Some of the ones he had already saved still needed him. Why couldn’t the boy see that?
“It’s not ideal, I’ll grant you.” Reilly knew immediately that he should have kept quiet but he had felt compelled to fill the void after Regan’s question, and it was obvious that Harris was not about to answer.
“Not ideal.” Regan jumped on the words like a lion on wounded prey. “It certainly isn’t ideal that all we have worked for—in fact, the very future of the human race, as Harris constantly reminds us—is now under such threat because of his insistence in taking wild and unwarranted risks.” Regan leaned back smugly as whispers rolled around the table like a Mexican wave at a football game.
Regan smiled. “This is exactly what a number of us have been discussing before the news arrived.” Regan paused as he looked around the faces of the new committee. “We have been concerned for some time now about the way things have been done here. Certain members of this committee have wantonly put the safety of the entire community at huge risk to salve their own egos.” Regan let his face show sorrow as he looked earnestly at the people before him. “We have decided - that is a number of us have decided - that it would be better if certain responsibilities were handled by, shall we say, more balanced people.”
“Now wait a minute.” Father Reilly leaned forward as he spoke but he looked over at Harris before he turned towards Regan. Harris seemed to be oblivious to what was happening. “Are you telling me that you have been having secret meetings…?”
“I think it is more accurate to describe it as an unofficial chat between concerned individuals.” Ian Phelps spoke from behind Regan and only leaned forward to address the rest of the table when he had nearly finished. “We did not want to bore the rest of the committee with trivia.”
“Rubbish,” Reilly spat the words in a fit of unusual anger. “Is this your plan?” He addressed his question towards Regan but then sought to involve the rest of the table. He was shocked to see more eyes drop from his stare than he had expected. My God, he thought, we’ve been played. “This is totally preposterous. Everything has to be voted…”
“Oh, I think you’ll find we have enough votes to make that a formality,” Phelps smirked. “In fact I think you’ll find that we have already filled the positions that matter.”
“What? But…”
“I wonder what your thoughts would be if you were out there and not here,” Harris spoke quietly and some of the committee members had to ask those beside them what he had said.
“That’s not the point…”
“No,” Harris interrupted, injecting an edge into his voice but keeping the volume low. The room quietened completely as all the members of the committee turned towards him. “That’s exactly the point. How many of us here would be free right now if Dan Harrington had decided that he was too scared to take a chance to save others? His memory is soiled by the actions of us all.” Harris paused and looked around the table. Some of the people tried to meet his gaze defiantly but they soon withered under his intense stare. People shuffled uncomfortably under his scrutiny and Harris let the silence draw out until it was almost unbearable. He saw Regan open his mouth to speak but Phelps motioned for him to stop. Like a good lapdog, Harris thought.
“We have become complacent and comfortable. It is this very insular and selfish attitude that led the human race to this situation in the first place. I don’t profess to have all the answers but I do know that this is not something we have a choice in.” Harris paused and took a breath as he surveyed the faces before him. “Do not fool yourself into believing what you may have been told; these people are being brought to the border for one reason only. To be torn to pieces as food for those vampire bastards as they tear each other apart. I for one cannot, and will not, sit idly by as this happens. You can do what you want.”
“You no longer have the authority for…” Regan began as he stood up.
“Authority,” Harris spat the words back at him and Regan ended up half standing as Harris continued. “Do you think I care how your precious committee carves up the power structure? It means nothing if we can’t save enough people to survive.” Harris shook his head. “Can’t you see that there is no future for us as we are? We will never survive in this world when the food begins to run out. The vampires will tear this world apart looking for blood when they begin to starve. The madness will take them and they will gorge on every living thing without remorse and without any concept of tomorrow. Do you really think that our pathetic defenses can withstand their power? We have to grow quickly or we’re all dead anyway.”
“That’s enough!” Regan shouted as he banged his hand on the table and the sharp contrast to Harris’ low voice made everyone jump. “The people of this community have chosen how they want their future secured, and they have entrusted me…”
“Oh grow up.” Harris raised his voice for the first time. “This is not about securing a power base. It’s way too late for that. This is about the lives of every human left on the planet.”
“It’s always the same with you, Harris,” Phelps reached out a hand to Regan and eased him back into his seat. “You’re like a broken record. ‘We have to save everybody’” he mimicked as he raised his hands and shook them. “We can’t save them all, Harris. Accept it. If the serum is working as fast as you say then it’s already too late. We’ve moved on from your Lone Ranger days.”
“Phelps,” Harris pronounced the name as if it were a curse. “We really can’t afford your brand of grandstanding. This is real, people. It won’t go away just because you ignore it. These three,” he pointed at Regan, Phelps and the still silent Patricia Lohan, “do not care for your future. They only care about their own. The rest of you won’t even have a future if you bury yourselves here.”
“That’s quite enough, Harris,” Regan stood again. “You are no longer required to manage our external security; John Kelly will handle that from now on. The rest of the positions will be…”
Harris didn’t listen to the rest. He turned from the table and walked out of the room. It was time to organize his team. He would tell them all what had happened and let them all make their own decisions. He was going to the border either way—alone, if he had to.
Chapter 17
It was afternoon and the shadows were already lengthening. Darkness was only two hours away and they were nowhere near ready. Falconi watched as the final touches were put to the huge enclosure that now filled the centre of the town. The humans already huddled in the centre of the enclosure looked pathetically small in the huge space but they would be crushed when the others arrived.
Falconi had accepted the fact that the majority of the humans would not be here in time for the vampires’ arrival. In fact it would be another twenty-four hours before all the reserves got here, but he would have over a thousand here before dark, he hoped.
> He looked at the terrified faces of those humans in the enclosure and felt nothing. He was no longer human himself. Why should he care? They had chosen to be food by not joining the vampire’s thrall army. He was well aware that not all humans had been accepted as thralls by the vampires. After the serum had crushed the humans’ will to fight, there had been thousands of defections by desperate humans promising their allegiance. But by that time, there had been more than enough thralls and there was a severe shortage of food. The vampires had ordered all the others herded into the cages across the country and the serum had soon silenced their cries of despair. In the last two years Falconi had learned to ignore any pity he might have had. He had his own worries and would waste no time on the doomed rabble in front of him.
The town’s defenses had been rebuilt but they would not survive a sustained attack by tanks. He had seven hundred men in and around the town with a further fifteen hundred due over the next few hours. Transport was their biggest problem and he knew that garrisons had been stripped bare all over the state, dangerously so, and the excess thralls were even now being force-marched here. Thralls were amazingly resilient compared to what they had been before the change. They would be well able to jog for miles without a break and still be able to fight when they arrived.
His biggest worry was that all of these resources would not actually be here for when Wentworth arrived. And while he knew he could not have done anything more, he worried that Wentworth would not be satisfied and that he would simply rip him apart in a fit of anger. There was no way to be sure, so he merely turned from the enclosure and looked up at the sky. There was a stiff breeze coming from the north and he could smell something in the air. He noted a huge bank of cloud roiling across the sky, its black core pregnant with rain, and he shivered. There was snow on the way. He sighed. A storm was coming, in more ways than one.