Barbara stifled her laugh. “Hey, you’re the fast one, I’m the slow one. You go right ahead and constipate.”
Laura nodded. “Right. No, concentrate.”
“That’s what I said.” Barbara tried to act serious. “So let’s go.”
Laura prepared herself again. This time when she opened the door, she snuck a peak down both sides of the hall and pulled the door open further. She stepped tentatively out into the hallway and pulled the radio out to call the security officers. Barbara chose that exact time to slap her on the ass, giving it a little squeeze, and say, “Good luck!” then quickly pulled the door shut.
Laura stood there a moment totally flustered and listened to the woman on the other side of the steel door burst into hysterical laughter. “I’m going to kill her.”
She quickly got herself under control and keyed the radio. “Security, Youngblood. Report.”
She paused a moment and listened to the static on the radio. When the voice came back it was hushed. “We’ve entered your level and we’re fanning out.”
“Fanning out?” she said aloud. “How many…” She keyed the radio, “Negative, we’re going to trap it in the stairwell. We can secure it on this side and escape through the next lev…” a scream in the distance cut her off. She pulled the radio away from her mouth and stared down the darkened hallway. “Oh no.”
*****
Neils and Dominic worked their way around the numerous buildings and warehouses and finally made it to the training area. The bunker was right behind them but the rear blast door was sealed shut from the inside.
“Dammit,” Dom cursed as he kicked at the steel door.
“That won’t help, brother.” He pointed to the steel support staff building adjacent to the bunker. “There’s a way in through there.”
The two men cut across the narrow alleyway and into the side door to the support staff building. They worked their way through the numerous offices and cubicles and hit the side door that fed the short hallway into the bunker. As they came to the other side, they entered the equipment storage and fought their way through the assorted crates and boxes and found their way to the stairwell that led to the command center. They hit the door at a sprint and ran into a nightmare.
*****
Damien converged on the mayhem in the command center and listened from outside. He could feel both Thorn and the Sicarii oozing power from where he hid in the shadows, and it made his entire body ache, wanting to sink his fangs into both of them.
“Easy, lover, your time is coming,” Rachel whispered. “Patience.”
He eased his way to the adjacent building and slipped inside, not knowing that his every movement was being watched by the sniper on the roof of the adjacent building.
Slipping into the darkness of the adjacent building, he followed the scent of death and destruction and hovered just outside the bunker’s steel blast doors. He listened to the hunters being attacked and tossed around like rag dolls. He chuckled inwardly as two hunters sliced the air with swords, trying to threaten or kill the Sicarii. As soon as he snatched the female and used her to block the others, two more kicked open another door to the room and Damien could taste their shock as they took in the destructive power of a true warrior.
Damien nodded, thinking, the time was ripe for picking when Rachel spoke to him once more, “Not yet, lover. Just a moment longer. No need to risk yourself when the hunters will risk themselves for you.”
*****
Apollo keyed his mic, “How’s it look topside, Sherry? I can’t see a damn thing and the command center has gone dead.”
Sheridan cursed under his breath. “I’m still not seeing anything, Apollo,” he lied. “The windows appear dark from here.” At least that much was true. “I’ve got a bad angle, so I can’t see inside the bunker, but if I had to guess, I’d say that something overloaded their systems and blew a breaker.”
“I don’t think so, baby,” Apollo shot back. “Look out at the lake bed. The satellite is still firing like clockwork. Unless they programmed the thing and put it on auto-pilot…”
Sheridan turned his scope to the battle and could see the destruction of the satellite as it continued to slice great paths through the vampire horde, now thinned greatly by the continued onslaught. “I’ll be damned.”
“Then maybe it’s just their coms?” Sheridan said. “Either way, I’m not going to abandon the post.”
“Did you catch what Jack said about the POD crews at the bunker?” Apollo asked. “My earpiece keeps cutting out on me.”
Sheridan continued to watch the bunker through the rifle scope praying that his target would show his face. “No, Apollo, I didn’t. I think he said something about the POD crews being dead on their feet or nearly asleep,” he lied again. He knew damn well that they were dead. As soon as Jack reported it he viewed them all through his rifle scope and verified it. Each of them had their throats cut so cleanly and so deep that many of their heads fell completely off their bodies.
“Really? ‘Cuz it sounded to me like he said they was all dead,” Apollo said.
Sheridan jerked around to see the large, black mountain of a man standing directly behind him. “I can explain!” Sheridan shouted just as Apollo jerked him up by his blouse.
“I ain’t giving you a chance to explain, you lying son-of-a-bitch!” Apollo sent a jaw-breaking right across Sheridan’s face. Had he not still been holding the man, he surely would have been sent off the roof of the building. “You ain’t at your post.” Apollo punched him again, shattering his nose. “You lied about the POD stations,” he said as he uppercutted him. “And you been sneakin’ around like you up to somethin’.” He backhanded the man across the flat roof of the building.
Sheridan moaned as he tried to lift his head from the pea gravel of the flat roof and then collapsed back down. Apollo pulled a set of silver-plated handcuffs from his duty belt and cuffed Sheridan’s hands behind his back. He picked him up and threw the man across his shoulder. “I’ll let Pablo figure out what to do with you next.” He marched toward the roof access door. “I’m going to figure out why the fuck the OpCom ain’t responded to radio calls.” He shoved a finger hard into Sheridan’s side, “And if I find out you had anything to do with it, I’ll kick your butt so hard your nose bleeds.”
24
On the dry lake bed, as the much thinner herd of vampires quickly approached the inner markers, the gargoyles who had been circling the skies and directing the greater elves below now fell from the air and landed into the middle of the throng of the undead. The air support that had been keeping the vampires at bay had stopped bringing the fiery rain of silver death and the blood suckers had resurged with a new purpose.
The gargoyles, impervious to the bites of the vampires and uniquely massive in both size and strength, used brute force to rip the undead to pieces and even used the bodies of their victims to beat the others to death who were stupid enough to get too close.
Some of the gargoyles used their wings as slashing weapons, spinning their bodies and extending their bat-like wings to slice their enemies in half. Considering that their wingspan could exceed forty feet, it often left quite the path of destruction, but the vampire horde would quickly fill that emptiness, intent on vindicating the deaths of their brothers.
The gargoyles fought like demons, slashing and tearing, throwing bodies and using their great mass to hold back the advancing army while the greater elves slipped in and out of the ‘anywhere’ to kill, maim or destroy, then slip back to the safety of their own dimension without being seen. The group needed to buy just a little more time while their smaller, dirt dwelling compatriots finished their work.
Grimlock, the largest of the gargoyles and the leader of their warrior clan, directed them to hold the line no matter the cost. At nearly fourteen feet tall and with ebony skin, he looked like a gargantuan statue with deep red scarring throughout his body. A much smaller and faster griffin styled gargoyle kept to the air, zipping down to
pick up claws full of vampires to rip apart and rain their body parts down on the others.
Grimlock had just scooped up an extra-large handful of the beasties and squished them between his fingers like over-ripe bananas when he felt the earth tremble beneath his feet. He threw his hands out to balance himself and yelled out with his great rumbling voice, “To the air, brethren! To the air!” and leapt up, beating his great wings, scooping large pockets of air and lifting himself higher. He looked about to ensure that his compatriots had made it to the safety of the air and heaved a great sigh of relief when he had them all accounted for.
They all circled the vampire horde, many of whom kept a watchful eye on the winged monstrosities before advancing once again on the human stronghold.
“Come on, dammit,” Grimlock muttered. “Do it!” he yelled, just as the ground beneath the vampire army shuddered, knocking most of them off their feet. The earth itself shook and began to collapse inwardly, dropping into a giant sinkhole, its sides as straight and smooth as glass.
Grimlock shot straight up into the air and cast his eyes out over the dry lake bed. Only a few stray vampires had escaped the trap and they were running in the other direction as fast as they could. He let loose with a dragon’s roar that echoed off the foothills and sent the werewolves into howling fits.
As he landed beside the great pit the earth behind him began to tilt and tremble as five giant heads broke up from the ground. Immense rock trolls slowly pulled their large bodies from the sandy earth, ridden by gnomes.
The little gnomes slid down from the trolls and approached Grimlock. The trolls simply sat on the ground and looked around like large retarded moles and scratched themselves in unmentionable places or picked at their noses.
“Damned smelly creatures,” the little gnome commented as he brushed the dirt from his clothes and walked to the edge of the deep pit. He looked down at the trapped vampires trying to leap and claw their way out, failing miserably. The sight brought a smile to his face and a tear to his eye. “Ah, but they make fine excavators.”
“That they do,” Grimlock’s voice a low rumble.
“Do you think the Wyldwood would let us keep one? Or maybe two?” the gnome asked. “They’re not the easiest thing in the world to operate you know, but they do make short work of big jobs.”
Another gnome stepped beside the first and admired their handiwork. “And it sure beats running from them to keep from being eaten, I’ll tell ya.”
Grimlock shook his giant head. “The Wyldwood was specific. The spell is temporary. The stupid animals have to go back before it wears off.”
Horith and Kalen appeared from nowhere and looked down into the pit. “Good work, gentlemen. Very good work indeed,” Horith commented.
“Thank you, sir,” the first gnome replied. “Hey, do you think you could put a word in with the Wyldwood for us?”
Grimlock leaned down and growled at him.
“Not to keep one!” he exclaimed, holding his dirty little hands up in defense. “Just maybe she could convince the filthy things that they don’t like the taste of gnome anymore?”
Horith smiled. “I can ask.”
“Thank you,” the gnome said defensively. “I couldn’t afford to feed something that big anyway,” he said over his shoulder as he walked off.
“What will you do with them?” Grimlock asked the elves.
Kalen hiked a brow. “I know what I’d like to do with them.”
Horith placed a hand on his twin’s shoulder. “We’ll leave that to the humans.” He turned and looked to the horizon. “But it won’t be much longer and the sun will take care of it for them.”
Grimlock nodded. “Speaking of…”
“Yes, I know,” Horith stated. “Let’s check in with the humans and then we’ll see you off.”
*****
“Tell me, traitor, why I shouldn’t kill them all and bathe in their blood?” the Sicarii hissed.
“Can you not feel your power ebb? Your own people have dwindled to a mere fraction of what you once held,” Rufus said softly as he slowly advanced, his eyes pleading with him.
“It matters not. The apocalypse will still come. I will still be the harbinger of doom. I will still bring about the undoing of His creation—”
“Non,” Rufus interrupted him. “You will not, mon ami.”
“You are not my friend, traitor!” he spat. “I do not know how you broke my conscription, but it does not matter. You will pay for your actions with the true death along with these human hunters.”
“Non. I will not.” Rufus knew he had to keep him talking. If he was talking, he was not killing. If Rufus could save just one human life…
“Oh, you will, little vampire. I can smell the fear on you.”
“It is not the fear of my own death,” Rufus explained.
While Rufus spoke, Hank had recovered his sword and slowly moved out of the Sicarii’s sight. Rufus kept advancing, but at an angle, causing the dark one to turn ever so slightly to keep Sanchez between him and the other vampire. Hank used that to slip behind him, but he feared that any movement would be heard and this damned vampire was just TOO quick.
“I fear the death of others. I fear their deaths being on my hands when I might could do something to stop it.”
“You can do nothing,” the dark one hissed. “Your allies can do nothing! I will still destroy the world, and I will enjoy watching it burn!” He tightened his grip on Maria’s throat and she grabbed at his arm with both hands, struggling to pull it away, to gulp down the slightest bit of air.
Hank knew that he had to do something, and fast, or this unholy creature would kill her. He couldn’t stand by and allow anybody else that he loved to be harmed at the hands of another damned vampire. In that briefest of moments his greatest fears all came to the forefront. All of the fear he felt when the vampires first attacked his little border town, the pain of losing his parishioners, the anguish of having his orphans ripped from him...all of it rushed back to him from that dark hole in his heart where he had buried it. It all rushed forward and sprung to the front of his world, blinding him with fear and rage at the thought that yet another blood sucking vampire might steal someone he loved and his body reacted before his mind could stop him or even formulate a working plan.
He tucked his legs and sprung for all he was worth, bringing the sword up and slicing down as quickly as he could, trying to slice the bastard in half.
As he sprung into the air, the world slowed to a crawl. Rufus saw what Hank was about to do, and his eyes widened just slightly. That action was nearly imperceptible, but enough for the Sicarii to notice, as he was always so observant when he was in predatory mode. He knew that something was behind him. He wasn’t sure what the threat was, or what kind of attack, but he didn’t dare risk being wounded again. If this group had a simple crossbow that could wound him as badly as he was hurt in the rafters earlier, he didn’t dare risk any other attacks. As soon as he noted the shift of Rufus’ eyes, he shifted his weight to spin to the side, intending to throw the girl’s body in the opposite direction and hopefully rip her head from her shoulders in the same movement.
He didn’t get the chance to complete his action as he felt the stinging bite of a silver plated blade slice through his shoulder and sever his arm as his body moved to one side and his other arm tried to throw the girl. He only accomplished in ripping her throat out as she was slung to the side, but the surprised look in her eye gave him a minor satisfaction just before he realized that he had completely lost his left arm.
In a dancing, spinning action, he scooped up the female’s fallen blade with his good hand and brought it up in one great, slicing motion. He sliced his attacker from inner thigh to collar bone before the blade was stuck and his bloody hand slipped from the handle of her sword. He finished with a roll to the side and time sped up once more. The pain and fury that coursed through him as he screamed an unholy curse was unmatched in the annals of time.
Hank collapsed to hi
s knees, Maria’s sword, once his own, protruding from his chest, arterial blood spraying out in front of him. He was surprised at the speed of the attack, and even more surprised at the lack of pain. He knew it was partly because of the razor’s edge of the blade, but also the speed of the killing blow…his brain hadn’t had time to register the pain yet. His eyes fell to Maria’s prone body and his heart broke…he had failed her. He wanted nothing more than to save her, again. He couldn’t save his kids, his flock, his town. He only wanted to save her.
As Hank slowly began to fall he stretched his arm out toward her...if he could just touch her one last time. But fate is a cruel bastard. His body fell just out of reach and he couldn’t extend his hand any further. His eyes turned to her and she met his gaze for just a moment, her mouth forming a word, but his mind couldn’t make out what she was trying to say...the blood rushing from her ruined throat preventing any last good-byes. His vision faded as the world went about its business, his last formed thought was of her.
The Sicarii looked down at the floor and saw his arm lying in a pool of his own black blood and his vision instantly went red. He poised to attack again when something solid struck him and knocked him back. He felt the unmistakable sensation of being wrapped in metal and then the bite of barbed silver spikes as they drove into his body and embedded into his ancient bones. The force of the blow knocked him to the ground and his anger suddenly knew no bounds. Who did these humans think he was? Mere silver could not contain him!
He flexed his good arm and swelled his chest, but felt only the burn of the silver against the stump of what once was his arm. He howled at the pain and jerked his eyes open to stare down at the contraption that held him. Logging style chain, made entirely of silver wrapped completely around his body and secured with spheres that had shot barbed spikes into his body? That should not have held him!
He flexed again and felt his strength drain from him. He began to panic as the Roman Centurion stood over him. “You are secured.”
Blood Apocalypse - 04 Page 31