What Happens in the Darkness

by Monica J. O'Rourke

  “Please!” the vampire cried, “kill meeeee! Have mercy!”

  The woman laughed as she dripped the water down his throat. He gurgled as he tried to speak, coughing back the holy water as it sprayed back and ate away at the rest of his face.

  They left him there to sizzle away until he was no longer undead, until he was not coming back, and then they moved on to the next vampire.

  Rebecca and a handful of her group managed to break through the sociopathic humans and rescue the vampires, but by that time nearly a dozen had been murdered by the humans.

  The attacks with the water guns had been effective but short-lived. The vampires were just too damned fast. By the time the attack was over, several hundred humans lay dead in the streets. Every person who had opposed them was dead.

  Dagan grabbed Rebecca. “We don’t have much time!”

  She stood in the center of the carnage, a look of shock contorting her beautiful face. “We only wanted to help them,” she cried. “Look at this! What if it’s the same everywhere, Dagan? What if we have to keep doing this?”

  “Come on, we have to hide. The sun’ll be up any minute.”

  “I know.” She looked around. The remaining vampires had gathered around, desperate for guidance.

  The Merchant Savings Bank across the street would have a vault, and Dagan hoped it would be large enough for the thirty of them.

  ***

  Patrick returned to the storeroom and found his new family waiting patiently for him.

  He smiled, seeing they had followed his orders. There was hope after all.

  He led them into the countryside and they hunted, descending upon a platoon of enemy soldiers who had made base near a lake.

  This was the vampires’ first kill, and it was on their own kind—enemy attacking their own—but Patrick discovered he needn’t have been worried.

  Their loyalties were with him.

  The new vampires hungrily attacked the Global Dominion soldiers, tearing out chunks of flesh from their necks and heads, sucking the salty blood from their gushing wounds. Terrified soldiers screamed as their comrades—vampires still wearing their GD uniforms—savagely attacked and destroyed them.

  ***

  Later that day, after the sun had once again settled on the horizon, Dagan and Rebecca cautiously returned to the scene of the carnage.

  “No one’s been here,” he said. “I thought there would be others.”

  Rebecca nodded, examining the charred, skeletal remains of the deceased vampires. The sun had incinerated their bodies, until all that remained was chalky bone residue in the outline of their former bodies. A soft wind scattered the remains flake by flake.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked him. “Go back? Or forward?”

  Their vampires formed around them, standing or sitting, waiting patiently in small circles.

  “Let’s go on,” Dagan said. “We have an assignment.”

  Rebecca pulled her hair back over her shoulder. “Agreed.”

  They traveled west again, reaching California in a handful of hours.

  The first thing they did was find shelter. The sun wouldn’t rise for several hours, but Dagan and Rebecca wanted to be cautious this time and not have a repeat of the previous night.

  In the town of Laramie, they came upon a colonial house, now deserted. The finished basement was large and windowless, and they decided to call it home base for a while.

  Dagan called his followers, and they gathered around him. “We still have several hours of moonlight left. We’re splitting into two groups. Rebecca or I will lead you either north or south. Remember your mission: to destroy the enemy.” He hated stating the obvious, but he wanted to make sure they knew their responsibility.

  “Questions?”

  No. They had been thoroughly trained.

  “Remember,” Rebecca added. “No prisoners. No killing Americans if we can avoid it. Kill only Global Dominion soldiers.”

  “And no sires,” Dagan said.

  ***

  Dagan led his followers north, along the coast. Within minutes they came across an enemy base and a prison camp. They infiltrated the camp, easily overtaking the soldiers and rescuing the prisoners.

  Attitudes were different on the west coast. Rescued prisoners were grateful.

  A woman ran up to Dagan and threw her arms around him but stopped short. Instead, she dropped her arms and cocked her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Covering her mouth with her palm. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I—”

  “It’s okay,” he said, touching her shoulder.

  She flinched, and that seemed to embarrass her. “I’m afraid,” she said, tears rolling down her face. “I know you saved us—me—but I’m still afraid. Please forgive me.”

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said gently, but she backed slowly away, smiling sadly at him, and she disappeared into the crowd of rescued humans.

  Dagan gathered his vampires, and they moved on to the next area.

  ***

  Rebecca was having a similar experience. Destroying the enemy soldiers had been easy—they still had the element of surprise because no one ever saw them coming, even if they were much better prepared these days—but the freed prisoners still seemed more afraid of the vampires than of the Global Dominion soldiers. Old habits died hard, after all. And Bram Stoker sure had given vampires a black eye.

  She freed a group of people who were reluctant to leave the confines of the cage.

  “I won’t hurt you!” she snapped, perhaps more angrily than she’d intended.

  They poked their heads out until they finally began their exodus.

  One prisoner stopped on his way to freedom and paused to take a long look at her. “You have the face of an angel,” he said.

  “Not an angel. Angels are pure. They’re beautiful.”

  “Then you are an angel.”

  She laughed. “There’s no need to flatter me. We don’t react the way you do. It’s not necessary to try to impress me.”

  “I’m not. I mean, I wasn’t.” The flustered man who had been trying to express his gratitude tucked his head between his shoulders and disappeared amongst the others.

  Rebecca shook her head, smiling. Had she ever been so human? She couldn’t remember. To be so self-conscious, so burdened with caring what others thought? Even when she’d been human some hundred-fifty years ago, she’d had a fascination with the supernatural. Ghost stories fascinated her; lurid tales of demons and banshees excited her. To spend an eternity as a creature of the night was never something she feared.

  Martin had approached her, perhaps on some level sensing this, and had pulled her into an embrace. She had felt fear for the briefest moment. And she had died a virgin but did not regret that. The companionship she felt with her vampire family had always been enough. Then. But it had never been physical, and until she had recently tasted her freedom, she didn’t give another thought to what she might have been missing. Even the food they had been given—the jailhouse prisoners and the skid row vagrants—had been nothing more than sustenance. She never desired more from them than their blood.

  But now she wondered. Her thoughts weren’t new, but they were resurfacing. Forgotten nuggets of passion and curiosity. Would she know how? Would it feel the way it was meant to, the way it would have felt had she still been human? The desire to feel a man inside her overpowered her, and it had to be a man, a human man. She knew she could satisfy herself, but what would the point be? She needed a warm, throbbing man inside her. A vampire wouldn’t share the passion she craved, wouldn’t fill her body with the hot, sensuous liquids a human could.

  Her vampires waited for her to proceed.

  “Go back to the camp,” she instructed. “Tell Dagan I’ll be along shortly.”

  They began to protest but she cut them off and sent them on their way.

  She gazed out at the ocean, the warm, salty air caressing her skin like gentle wet kisses. Movement to the side caught her eye, and she w
ent to investigate.

  A soldier lay wounded in the sand, blood seeping into his jacket from the wound in his chest. He stared at her with terrified, glassy eyes and tried to push himself away.

  She stepped over him and squatted, hovering over his stomach. Leaning over, she grabbed his lapels and pulled him up.

  He grimaced and tried to push her away, but he was no match for her formidable strength.

  “Please,” he whispered, “I don’t want to die.”

  The enemy. Would he be a willing lover? Would he be as good a lover as a non-enemy? He was wounded—would that matter?

  She ground her crotch into his and rubbed against him, feeling him harden through his uniform. Apparently, he wasn’t too badly wounded.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I want you to have sex with me,” she whispered, nuzzling his ear.

  “What?” he gasped, trying to pull away.

  “Have sex with me.”

  “What are you doing?” He struggled, his hands slipping to his sides, trying to wedge them between their bodies.

  She knocked him back down to the ground and straddled him, pinning his arms over his head. She licked the drying blood off his jacket and unzipped his pants with her free hand.

  His semi-hard penis reacted to her touch and grew rigid, despite his struggles. “Get the hell off me,” he yelled, thrusting his pelvis, kicking his legs. The pants around his thighs restricted his movements. She used her feet to pin down his ankles, hold him in place.

  She mounted him, driving his cock inside her, and she rode him, moving faster, grinding against him. He still wasn’t cooperating, but it didn’t matter. She raped him but paused long enough to punch him in his wounded chest.

  He screamed and tried to twist away onto his side, tears of pain and embarrassment leaking from his eyes.

  “Easy, boy,” she cooed, not meaning to be so coy, knowing he was in pain, and she felt a bit of empathy. After all, he wasn’t her enemy. It had just been his dumb luck that the Americans had the vampires on their side.

  It suddenly struck Rebecca as odd that the vampires were allies to the very people who had imprisoned them…

  Didn’t matter. She was enjoying the hell out of this fuck. She wondered if this was the best there was, or if it got even better.

  She moaned, her head dipping low, her eyes closed, her hips increasing speed.

  The soldier groaned. She opened her eyes to watch him, and he threw his head back. He came inside her, and she was suddenly coming too, a powerful orgasm ripping through her body … a feeling so wonderful and so strong she was unable to move for a second or two. She collapsed forward on top of him and felt his pulse against her face.

  “Get off me,” he cried, and when she did, he scuttled back like a sand crab, pulling up his pants.

  “Oh,” she moaned, smiling, still shuddering, “that was fucking incredible.”

  She caught up and straddled him again. “Again. I want to do that again.”

  “I can’t!”

  “You have to.” She touched his dick, but it didn’t respond. She looked at it, lying limply against his thigh.

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  She looked back into his face and leaned forward, licking the tip of his nose. “Then I have no more use for you.” Grabbing his head, she twisted, snapping his neck.

  The hour was getting late. It was time to head back to the camp.

  Chapter 16

  “Come with us,” Martin said. “You’ll be safer.”

  Janelle shook her head.

  “I won’t harm you.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. Martin had saved her life, and she trusted him. But the thought of being surrounded by vampires made her queasy. She would rather take her chances on the streets.

  “I can’t guarantee your safety if you aren’t with me. I can’t promise you won’t be—” But he looked away, and she thought she knew what he would have said.

  He couldn’t protect her from the vampires.

  “What can I do then? To protect myself?”

  He looked at her incredulously and then barked out a laugh. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?”

  Flustered, he muttered a series of syllables but formed no words.

  “I’m just a little girl. You have to help me protect myself.”

  “Something tells me you’re quite a resourceful little girl.” After studying her for a moment, a look of amusement spread on his face. “You’re right. Can’t leave you defenseless.”

  “I’ve seen lots of scary movies with my dad.”

  “Have you?”

  “So I know some stuff about vampires.”

  “Really? I suppose that’s good.” Martin squatted beside the small campfire and studied her.

  “Are you cold?” She rubbed her hands briskly over the low flames.

  “Nah. Vampires don’t get cold.”

  “Never?”

  “No. Hot neither.”

  “Except in sunlight. Right?”

  He smiled. “Right.”

  “Sunlight can kill you, right?”

  His smile faltered. “I’m sorry, Janelle. I’m no longer comfortable with this conversation.”

  Standing, she stretched her arms over her head. “Is it true, about garlic and crosses and holy water?”

  Martin considered her question but didn’t look at her.

  “So is it? Is it true?”

  He stood up, somewhat upset by her eager questions and her burning eyes. “I thought we were all supposed to be getting along. We have to learn to live with one another. You can’t plot to kill us. Do you understand?”

  She stared at him, not responding.

  He sighed. “Wear a crucifix. Avoid enemy troops, because that’s where the vampires are headed. To defeat the enemy.”

  “Oh yeah?” She smiled, cocking her head like a puppy.

  Suddenly, he didn’t care for the look in her eyes. And just as suddenly, her bloodthirsty and cavalier attitude was pissing him off.

  “Look, kid,” he said, moving closer, their faces inches apart. He flashed a partial smile, intentionally exposing the razor-sharp tip of tooth so white it looked bleached. “The vampires are helping your people. Do you understand? I would think you’d show more gratitude. Without us—”

  The hand she’d had tucked away in her jeans pocket flew up to her neck, and the small hunk of metal in her fist gleamed in the light of the fire.

  Martin stepped back, not knowing why he was suddenly afraid but knowing to trust his primal instincts, to understand his own reaction to things no matter how odd it may feel at the time. Even after all these years he was still reacting. The conditioned response had never fully left him.

  She lifted her hand to her lips and kissed the crucifix. “I already have one,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I’m sorry, Martin. I know you saved my life, and I’m grateful. But I have to protect myself. At least now I know this really works.”

  “It works,” he said quietly, but there was anger in his voice. “Why are you doing this? You must understand it isn’t necessary.”

  But she didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed her backpack and ran in the opposite direction.

  Martin let her go, watching her disappear down the barely lit streets, swirls of crispy leaves the only sign of movement.

  It was time to head back to the army base. The vampires would be returning soon, and he needed to be there waiting for them to learn about their progress.

  ***

  After leading his family to food—a barracks several miles away—Patrick brought them back to the storeroom.

  There were hundreds now, packed into the room, and they had turned dozens more that same night.

  He addressed the crowd, and they listened raptly, adoringly. “We grow stronger every night, and our numbers continue to grow. You should all be proud!”

  Blood-smeared faces peered at him with black, curious eyes. Looks of confusion mingled w
ith looks of pride.

  “You’ll all understand soon enough,” he told them. “It’s them against us. Never has vampire gone against vampire. But that’s what we must do, if we’re to survive. For now, we bide our time. We wait for the right time to strike, and we will be triumphant. All I ask is that you trust me and obey.”

  He stepped back and watched the rippling effect his words had on his family. His tongue licked remnants of his last meal from the corner of his mouth.

  “Time to rest now. You’ve earned a good sleep. And when we next wake, we begin the next phase of our plan.”

  They huddled together, bodies piled on top of one another for lack of space. The door was shut, closing them in the tomb-like blackness, where they rested, sleeping the dead sleep, dreaming of nothing at all.

  ***

  Rebecca returned to their camp, an old library with a windowless basement used for book archives.

  Decades of mildew coated the shelves, dust particles swirling in the sparse candlelight.

  Rebecca sauntered in, slammed the heavy door, and bounded down the stairs.

  “So what have you been up to?” Dagan asked, a wry grin on his face.

  She returned the smile. “Experimenting.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That so? What was he like?”

  “Young. Handsome.”

  “Ah.” Dagan leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “Am I to assume you din’na bring the laddie?”

  “Enemy soldier. Besides, he became useless.”

  “I think we’re done here,” he said, changing the subject. “My group and I covered much territory.”

  “Now what?” She sat on a wooden chair behind him. “Inland, or coastal?”

  “Perimeter, I think. Follow the coast.” He pulled out the map he’d been working with. “We can follow along here, the Gulf of Mexico.”

  He chewed his lip and shook his head. “The Twins went north, right? Patrick went south. How did Martin expect us to cover the rest of this whole damned country?”