by Jeff Abugov
“Pretty boom,” she would have said if she had words. “Pretty pretty boom boom.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The combined vampire-human forces had been kicking extraterrestrial-butt all night. The livid Alien Commander had adopted one new strategy after another, each one leading only to greater death and defeat. Most of his replacements weren’t even able to make it through the portals before being gunned down, and his soldiers on the ground had been diminished by more than half while there had not been a single human casualty since the V reinforcements had arrived so many hours ago.
The special V clock on the wall in the WTLV control room read zero hours, fifty-two minutes, and there’s no point in mentioning the seconds because they kept ticking down to dawn.
“You’d better bring them back,” said Laurel.
“Not yet,” Peyton answered, his eyes glued to the monitor that displayed the enemy Commander. “We’ve got the bugs on the run.”
“It’s less than an hour to sunrise, and they still have to make it across town.”
“Look at him,” Peyton said, transfixed on his counterpart. “He’s thinking retreat. C’mon, you bastard, just say it. ‘Retreat.’ Shout it out for your men. ‘Retreat.’ You know you want to. C’mon, say it for Papa.”
The truth was that Peyton couldn’t understand why his counterpart hadn’t called for retreat long before, and it was great cause for concern. With human victory so close at hand, it would raise too many questions if Peyton were the one to suddenly bring his soldiers home, and it would reveal the one giant flaw, the great kryptonite that had lied at the heart of his plan all along.
Vampires can’t fight in the daytime.
He had known from the start that he needed a victory so immediate and decisive that the bugs would deem Earth more trouble than it’s worth and fly off to find some other planet to conquer—or at the very least, regroup to return at a later date, hopefully at night. The problem was that he had achieved the exact kind of victory for which he had hoped and the damn bugs weren’t going anywhere.
And the seconds to sunrise were ticking, ticking, ticking down.
“Retreat, you son of a bitch! Your people are dying all over the place! Show a little compassion for the troops, man. What kind of general are you?”
Just then, for no reason discernible to man or vampire, the furious Alien Commander coughed out an order. He tapped on the symbols on his keypad causing the ground to shake violently, akin to a six-point-eight earthquake. The garage-sized wormhole from which the high command had watched the battle widened, spreading out far beyond the width of the great boulevards and parkways on which the fighting had taken place, and the swarms fled full speed toward it.
“And blackjack,” Peyton smiled then turned to Colonel Williams. “Let ’em go.”
The Colonel conveyed the order down through the ranks. The weary human soldiers lowered their weapons. The vampires returned to their human form panting, spent, stuffed. Some held their cramped bellies, swollen from over binging. Some threw up. But all noticed the earliest rays of dawn emerging in the distance.
As the last bug ran into the wormhole and onto the grassy meadow within, the Alien Commander tapped on his keypad again to cause another great quake. The giant wormhole snapped shut and vanished as if it had never existed at all.
It was done.
“Rot in hell you scaly bastards!!!” Major Shaughnessy shouted, which led to an eruption of cheers, laughter, whoops and hollers, pats on the backs and high fives.
In the control room, the same celebratory sentiments abounded albeit handshakes being more prevalent than high fives.
Laurel watched Julius on the monitor with moist eyes. She was so proud of him, and so confused that she could be proud of him. He was a monster, a tool in a war for survival after which he would return to his evil ways. He had said so himself, a “temporary truce” he had called it. But as hard as she tried to hold onto her hatred, she couldn’t help but smile and fondly whisper to her nemesis, “You did it.”
“Colonel, get those covered trucks out there now and get the Vs out of the light,” Peyton instructed. “Leave a third of the men where they stand, and have the others rotate in to replace them on three-hour shifts till the bugs come back—because they will. Then let’s get another thousand troops out there, fresh faces, ones the aliens haven’t seen, and put “V” insignias on their sleeves. I want those bugs to see V-Company marching out in broad daylight.”
“With all due respect, sir,” began Colonel Williams, “Why leave the men there? The bugs can wormhole anywhere they want, including right into our camp.”
“They can,” Peyton explained professorially, “but they won’t. Don’t think of this as a war because the enemy doesn’t—and you don’t exterminate your hornets by jumping past a massive clump of the nastiest of them. No, this enemy will show up wherever our fighting force stands, and the other side of town is fine by me.”
“Um, sir?” the Canadian Lieutenant began tentatively. “Regarding the extra thousand troops—we don’t have extra troops. We’ve been all-in from the get-go.”
“We have the civilian trainees.”
“They’re not close to ready for battle, sir. Most of them can’t even fire a gun.”
“That’s all right, son,” Peyton assured him. “V-Company doesn’t use guns.”
*****
The soldiers were halfway to base when they caught up with the trucks that had been sent back for them. Although the sun was not yet visible, the light over the horizon was getting brighter. The humans were exhausted, and the vampires weak from the burgeoning dawn as well as their all-night binging—but you wouldn’t know it from their boisterous spirits as they filed into the covered transports.
Julius was furthest from the trucks for he had led the charge. He walked with a group of human soldiers—his new admirers—when Denison approached him.
“Julius, I owe you an apology,” said the slayer Guide. “I was certain that you would betray us, but you prevailed in the highest of form. I was wrong about you, sir, and I thank you for proving me so.” Then he put out his hand.
Julius looked at the hand with suspicion at first, but despite centuries of warfare with the likes of Denison, he was moved by the gesture. He smiled and clasped Denison’s hand with both of his own. “You are most welcome, my friend.”
Just a little bit ahead walked Prague and Africa, the two next-eldest vampires, Julius’s second- and third-in-command. Africa delighted in teasing her best friend and lover, playfully taunting her into submission. “So? So? Nothing more to say?”
“Okay, it was fun,” Prague granted. “I concede it. Exhilarating, delicious.”
“And humans?”
“Well, perhaps they’re not all bad.”
“That’s monumental growth for you, my treasure,” she said with a smile.
Just a bit ahead walked a squad of human infantry, laughing and joking, with Plato only steps behind, his eyes locked on the back of a soldier’s neck. The vampire licked his lips and hissed softly, sprouted his fangs and moved in for the kill. Prague saw it not a moment too soon and jerked out her arm in a palm-heel strike. She touched nothing, but Plato fell to the ground as if he had been punched in the head.
“What did Julius tell you?!” Prague shouted as she moved toward the boy.
Suddenly, the ground shook. Four ninety-feet-tall, cylindrical wormholes shot straight up from the ground, each one enveloping one of the four vampires who had yet to make it into the covered trucks, along with the human soldiers around them.
It was nothing like Julius had ever seen. The center of the cylinder remained Jacksonville—the Bellfort Road pavement still under his feet, the traffic light ahead, the fire hydrant on the curb—but five yards beyond him in every direction was the alien world, the sunny, grassy meadow from which the bugs had come and gone.
Before anyone could process what had happened, two alien swarms emerged to blast every human who had had the misfo
rtune of walking by the vampire’s side. Denison was the first to die, followed by everyone else. The bugs then harnessed their rifles over their shoulders and approached the vampire with alloy spears, ingot ropes and electronic metallic nets. Julius deduced that they had been ordered to take him alive, but he had ideas of his own. He turned to mist and charged.
*****
The humans outside the cylinders drew their M16s to rescue their new allies as they gaped at the giant pillars in stunned awe. What the hell were these?
Major Shaughnessy cautiously reached out his arm to touch the black wall, but he felt nothing. He slowly moved his hand into the pillar, only to see his arm protrude out the opposite end ten yards away, his forearm seemingly detached from his elbow like a cheesy magic trick. He peeked inside to take a look, only to find his head appearing ten yards away as if detached from his neck. He took a single step into the wormhole, then was instantly exiting the other side—those watching did not lose sight of him for an instant. It was as if the wormhole wasn’t there at all.
*****
“Did those bugs just steal my Vs?!” Peyton screamed as he jumped up from his seat. “They’re my goddamn Vs! Let ’em get their own goddamn Vs!”
*****
Inside the cylinder, Julius fought valiantly but soon came to realize that the effort was futile. The all-night gorging had exhausted him, and the opening at the mouth of the cylinder ninety feet above showed the Earth sky growing ever brighter.
The alien ropes and nets merely passed through his mist-self, but he knew that wouldn’t last long. He was starting to find it difficult to focus, difficult to remain as mist, his human form popping in and out. And for every enemy soldier that he managed to kill, a new one emerged to take its place.
He made a quick assessment. The Earth sun should still be below the horizon, while the alien sun seemed to be at its noon-strongest. Even if he was wrong, he thought, he’d still rather suffer the excruciating death-by-sun on his own planet.
He focused every last bit of his intellect on remaining mist, then soared straight up ninety feet to the mouth of the cylinder. As he had thought, the sun had yet to appear but it was close, too close. The moment he rose above the edge of the cylinder’s opening, he was blasted in face and chest with the sun’s agonizing rays.
He screamed in mortal pain as he was reverted to human form against his will, losing his ability to fly. He summoned his last bit of strength to make one final lunge forward before gravity took hold and heaved himself over the edge of the cylinder wall, freed from the alien world, whereupon he crashed down on the concrete road ninety feet below.
The ground shook, the cylinder vanished and Julius lay face down on the ground as the light burned fire through his pores. It was only a matter of time till the sun would reveal itself, and he knew his end was near. But giant oak trees offered shade just on the side of the road, only two car-lengths away. He knew they wouldn’t save him, but they could at least offer some temporary relief from his agony. He lacked the strength to stand so he crawled like the little baby he had been almost three millennia ago, the two-car-length distance feeling like a thousand miles.
You had a good run, ole boy, he told himself. Longer than most. Well done.
*****
The cylinder in which Africa had been trapped held the same underlying properties as the one that had contained Julius—five yards of Jacksonville on all sides of her that were impossibly surrounded by the alien world. She had made the same basic decisions as her leader—an initial instinct toward combat in which she slaughtered one alien soldier after another, followed by the awareness of her exhaustion and limitations, followed by the calculated risk of flight. (Plato had jumped straight to the flight instinct and hadn’t bothered to fight at all.)
She flew straight up the ninety feet to the mouth of the cylinder just as Julius had, and was also blasted in face and chest with the sun’s agonizing rays. She too screamed in mortal pain and was reverted to human form. But unlike Julius, she was unable to make that final lunge over the edge, and when she crashed down to the ground she was still within the cylinder borders, surrounded by alien soldiers intent on capturing her, her paranormal abilities gone.
Before she could rise to her feet, two bugs tossed their electronic metallic net upon her. The net immediately began to wrap itself around her as if possessing a mind of its own. Africa struggled to free herself but the more she did so, the tighter the net became, as if fighting back of its own volition.
The alien soldiers took half a step away to watch from a safe distance as they laughed at their once ferocious foe, knowing she would soon have no struggle left. One of them looked back toward the meadow and coughed loudly. “We caught one!”
The others rubbed their ungues together in a hideous parody of applause.
*****
The great oak trees were only yards away, but Julius was too weak to crawl even an inch more. The sun would soon be visible, but by now the vampire welcomed it—a quick, stinging death being far preferable to this slow, tortuous one.
Through the haze of his blurred vision, he could see a Harley Davidson careen toward him. The bike peeled to a halt by his side, and a woman jumped off.
“Julius!” she shouted.
He recognized Laurel’s voice and deemed it a fitting end—far more dignified to be done in by a mighty slayer than to have been caught in the sun, a rookie error.
But to his surprise, Laurel made no attempt to kill him. Instead, she slid her hands under his armpits and dragged him the rest of the way to the great oaks.
“A hearse with your casket is on its way, so you hang in there!” he heard her muffled voice as his backside dragged against the gravelly pavement.
“It won’t get here in time,” he muttered through his agony.
“It will! And I came back here to keep you safe till it does. So don’t you dare give up on me, monster! This war ain’t over yet, and we still need you!”
*****
Africa lay on the ground, fully restrained by the electronic net. With her arms squeezed against her sides and her legs squeezed against each other, the aliens were moving in to take her away. Still unwilling to surrender, she snapped her mouth open and closed repeatedly until two aliens, standing feet away from her on opposite sides, jammed an alloy rod in between her fangs to stop her. She now had nothing left with which to fight so she closed her eyes to pray.
The swarm moved in to lift her when she suddenly heard the loud bra-tat-tat of a submachine gun coming from above. She opened her eyes to see the thorax-chests of her captors rip open from the blasts as they each fell dead to the ground. A rescue harness dropped down from the sky next to her but she had no free limbs to grab hold. A powerful human arm yanked the alloy rod out of her mouth then scooped her up like a small child and clipped her onto the harness, net and all, and then she felt herself ascending up toward the mouth of the cylinder.
New aliens ran into the cylinder to blast their rifles up at her and the human, but Harve, her most unlikely hero, gunned them down before they had a chance to fire. Up, up, up soared the vampire and her vampire-hating savior until they cleared the mouth of the cylinder and were whisked off to the side where no bug could aim.
And then she screamed in mortal agony!
The sun had still yet to rise, but the now bright rays above the horizon seared into her soul. Harve used his body to shield her from direct contact as best he could, but the harness was twisting in the air as it ascended toward the helicopter above.
“Hurry!” Harve shouted into his wrist-mike over Africa’s howls of misery.
“The pulley is already set on high!” he heard Frank through his earpiece.
“It’s not fast enough! The poor kid’s burning to death! Let’s go!”
Small pockets of flame began to flare up on Africa’s arms and legs. Harve used his hands to pat them out, scalding his own flesh on behalf of the demon. When they finally reached the chopper door, Harve untethered her as Frank yanked
her into the bird then straight into an open coffin and slammed its lid shut.
Harve pulled himself into the chopper, then dropped to the floor exhausted.
“That was fun,” said Johnny from the pilot’s seat. “Let’s do it again.”
*****
Prague’s first instinct upon finding herself trapped in the cylinder had been to attack. But unlike Julius and Africa, her flight instinct never took hold. She had not felt bloated by the prior night’s battle nor weakened by the early rays of sunlight, so she had seen no reason to run from these insects that she had been devouring all night with ease. Fueled by the fury over their gall at daring to capture her, the mightiest of all female vampires reveled in tearing these bugs to shreds. (Only Julius was more powerful, which was why she was next in line to assume leadership.)
But as the sky above the mouth of the cylinder grew brighter, as the bugs kept coming and coming, her mistake grew rapidly apparent. She was no longer able to remain mist for more than a few seconds at a time now, rendering her ability to fly murky at best, and certainly not ninety feet straight up.
But ever defiant, ever superior, she was unwilling to quit—even if she had to fight as a human. When one alien lassoed its alloy rope upon her arm, she jerked the rope right toward her, pummeling her vampire knee into the bug’s head, crushing its insect skull. When two others threw an electronic metallic net toward her, she dropped to the ground and rolled under it, tore her fangs into one of the bug’s calves, and rammed her fist up into the groin of the other, penetrating its crusty scales and yanking vital digestive organs clean out of its insect body.
She stealthily circled the ground, fangs out, hissing, menacingly swiping her luscious fingernails at the air like a crazed mountain lion. The bugs, having been ordered to bring her in unharmed, were terrified of getting too close and the badass vampire took full advantage of it. She’d attack, withdraw, attack, withdraw, bite, claw, scratch, gorge, all the while wondering how long she’d be able to keep it up.