Night School Book 2: Vampire Legion

by Alex Dire

  “Who moves first?” said Frank with eager words.

  Norman wanted nothing more than to delay this fight for as long as possible. Give Nebulous a chance to save the day. Frank seemed to want to speed things up. Who knew what his story was or what type of revenge he’d been waiting to extract.

  “Rae,” said Norman.” Try to get a hold of Matt.”

  She tapped her phone and lifted it to her ear, dialing back the number Matt reached her on before. “It’s us. Any idea how long until you’re ready. Okay. Sounds good.”

  They all looked to Rae as she slipped the phone back to her pocket.

  “They’re working as fast as they can.”

  The sounds of boots marching in unison filled the spaces between her words.

  “An hour. Maybe less.”

  “Jesus,” said Norman. “The sun will be up in fifteen minutes. We need them now!”

  “That’s what he said,” replied Rae.

  “We can’t win,” said Jack.

  “No choice,” said Norman.

  “I’d rather die tonight anyway,” said Frank.

  “Mr. Bernard,” said Felicia. “I think there's a way.”

  Just then a cracking sound emerged from somewhere in the marching legion.

  The whole group looked away. A stream of smoke led into the sky in a great arc from the Corps. V lines toward the White House behind Norman.

  “They’re attacking the White House,” said one of the protesters.

  “No,” replied Rufus. “Take cover!”

  A moment later the object hit the ground in front of them with a metallic clank. It skipped and rolled toward them leaving a thick trail of smoke as it went.

  Norman looked hard at the object revealed by the brightening sky. It was a thin canister with an LED on each end.

  “The bombs from the warehouse!” said Rufus. “Get back!”

  The group moved to retreat. Too late.

  The object exploded with a searing yellow light.

  Norman hadn’t had time to turn and felt a layer of skin crisp and blow off his face. He fell back. The lower parts of his body shaded his face from further exposure.

  A hand gripped his collar and dragged him away. He tried to look back at what had happened. The instant before all the moisture in his eye evaporated he saw Frank kick the object back down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the advancing column. Norman’s last image was of Frank’s foot exploding as the canister sailed away.

  Rufus dumped Norman behind a parked car off to the side. The whole group had dispersed except for a few. Three crisps of former vampires lay near where the canister had exploded with its yellow light.

  The way was clear for the Corps. V attack.

  Black char sloughed off Norman's face as skin regrew. “We need to sneak at them from the sides.”

  “Too late for that,” replied Rufus. “I’m going in there.”

  Rufus blurred away toward the street. He grabbed the badly damaged remnants of Frank, dragging him behind the car as well. “I like you. You up for this?”

  Franks pink healing lips managed some words. “Yes, sir,” he said in pained rasps.

  “They’ll just hit us again with one of those bombs. We need to get among them. They can’t shoot if we’re in close,” said Norman.

  Georgios shuffled up to their position. He left a trail of smoke in his wake. “We need to move now.”

  “No, we need to attack,” replied Norman. “Give Matt more time.”

  “There’s no more time. They’re here and the sun will follow in minutes.”

  Felecia crept up and joined the group.

  “We’re going to charge right into their flanks,” said Norman. “Only so many can strike at us at once. Who’s left?”

  They all lifted their heads and looked across the hood of the car. Rae hid behind another parked car nearby. Across the street, a small group of the protesters huddled by another.

  Norman craned his neck and looked over to the White House. The lawn bustled with men in suits shouting into their wrists. Soldiers openly ran across the roof taking positions with heavy caliber weapons.

  “We need to attack before they do. If they spread the Corps. V, we’ll never slow them down. Now!”

  Norman ducked behind cars and blurred back to the center of the marching column. He watched as each line stoically strode past him. Then he leapt up over the side of the formation and landed on a soldier in the center. He drove the point of his silver tipped spear down into the top of the soldier’s head. It pushed through his bone and flesh like jelly. Norman rode him to the ground and yanked his spear free. He swung it wildly, slicing into the soldiers, carving out a radius around himself and created a nexus of chaos in the center of the formation.

  A second later hands gripped Norman’s neck and threw him to the ground. His spear clanked away down the pavement. Two soldiers whipped out their assassins’ knives. One of them spoke, “Brave.”

  He only spoke that one word before the massive form of Rufus descended and stabbed through his head with his ornate wooden combat stake. The point pierced the top of his shoulder and drove down through his entire body, exiting out his hip. The soldier fell to the ground, skewered from above.

  It took barely another instant before Rufus smashed his fist into the face of the other knife wielding Corps. V. Norman was glad to have him on his side. However, the next move belonged to the enemy army and with it many drew their assassins’ knives, ready to end Rufus and Norman.

  However, as they began closing in on the two, a chaos emerged from the side of the column. Rufus took advantage of the moment and slashed his knife across the throats of two more Corps V. The skewered soldier remained on the ground, his wounds unable to heal while plugged with wood.

  A group of protesters had broken through the side of the line and were fighting their way toward Norman and Rufus. A scream rang out from the melee as one of them paid the price for the daring rescue.

  More soldiers rushed into the tiny circle Norman and Rufus had created. Norman stood and put his back to Rufus.

  “Here we go again,” said Norman.

  Rufus answered with a grunt and handed a knife back to Norman. “Use this. It won’t kill them, but it sets them back. We’re here to delay, right?”

  Norman accepted the weapon and stared into the face of the five soldiers that closed in on him. Five others came at Rufus. Another layer came just beyond them. Norman had been right, only a few could reach him at a time in the center of the formation. However, ten vs two still didn’t give him much of a chance.

  “Wait,” he said. “Let’s change positions.” With that he leapt into the air again, falling into a new, still regimented, part of the formation. Rufus caught on and shot up an instant after him. Three of the Corps. V followed.

  Norman and Rufus landed on two soldiers, bringing them down with stabs to the face. The three who pursued them attempted to land without harming their comrades but succeeded in taking out a few. Rufus stabbed and slashed at several surprised soldiers, knocking them to the ground and creating another little chaos zone in the midst of the marching.

  A soldier lunged at Norman, tripping over a fallen comrade. He gripped Norman’s arm as he fell, taking him down with him. On the ground, he pushed Normans neck into the pavement. Norman reached up and grasped at his neck, pushing as hard as he could. However, the soldier was much stronger than Norman. He reached down to his belt and flicked out his assassin’s knife. He raised it into the air to make the final stab. The stab that would take Norman out of the fight and out of the world forever.

  But Rufus’s thick-soled boot kicked the side of the soldier’s face, teeth and mucus flew from the Corp. V’s mouth as he flew off to the side.

  Another soldier grasped Rufus’ leg before it could re-connect with the ground and stabbed his knife into it. Rufus grunted through clenched teeth. He reached out to grasp the attacker but his opponent twisted his leg, whirling him to the ground. Another soldier fell onto Rufus’ bac
k and stabbed. Rufus, struggling face down made a difficult target. His gyrations caused the knife to miss its mark, instead tearing thought the flesh of his shoulder. Rufus grunted again. Norman could see the foamy saliva spray through his teeth.

  Two more soldiers fell on Rufus, stabbing into this flesh trying to deliver the final blow. Norman crouched nearby. They seemed to ignore him, probably taking out the greatest threat first. The thought gave Norman little comfort as a blurred figure shot through the air at him and struck him in the neck. He reached up to feel the hilt of a wooden blade sticking from his carotid artery. Blood sprayed out from the sides of the wound. He felt his head go cloudy as it became deprived of blood.

  He fell to the pavement onto his back. Lines of Corps. V marched around him as a few encircled Rufus and Norman to finish them off.

  He saw a sky devoid of stars, glowing with impending sunrise. He clutched the knife trying to pull it free. His neck wouldn’t heal as long as it was there. However, just touching in sent waves of pain through his neck. Blood began to fill his mouth as the artery pumped the fluid into his throat through the deep wound.

  “Here,” said a gruff voiced soldier. “Let me help you with that.” The soldier grasped the handle and pulled the knife out of Norman’s neck. Blood first flowed quick and then began to slow as the wound stitched itself back together. It wouldn’t heal in time. “I have a better place to put it.” The soldier dropped to his knees and raised the blade with both hands.”

  Norman focused his mind. The world dropped away as a uniform thing. Each element was distant. He heard Rufus, his grunts had become outright screeches. Norman could hear Rufus’ resolve shaking as his body became riddled with wounds. How much longer could he punch and dodge?

  He heard the unison footfalls of the regimen that moved toward the White House. He saw the faint piercing light of the last star of the evening. The soldier, kneeling above him, took a deep breath. His heart rate increased. The bastard was excited. Norman saw his will floating above him, cool and smooth, with no place to grasp. He reached out anyway. He searched for friction.

  “Die,” shouted the soldier. Norman realized these were the last seconds of his life. Distracted by the thought, the smooth arcs of his will slid off the soldier’s orb.

  “Charge,” came a commanding voice from somewhere in the formation.

  The soldier tensed the muscles in his face as he drove the knife down.

  Suddenly he stopped. He sniffed twice. He smelled something. Norman smelled it, too.

  All fell silent. The instant of quiet seemed to stretch for hours.

  Then it broke. It broke in a pitch, high and terrible.

  The sound of a howling wolf wove its way through the vampires. Then two. Then three. Then too many to count.

  Dog. Norman was beginning to like the smell.

  30

  The Band

  A knife drove though the soldier’s head from the side, then quickly withdrew. Blood spurted out of the wound. The knife flew through the air as if on its own, stabbing through the soldier once again. This time it pierced his chest and remained in place. A short click and a tiny whoosh and the soldier screamed and writhed on the pavement. The knife flicked out of the anguished vampire’s chest.

  Only then did Norman make out the hand connected to the weapon.

  “Get up. Heal later,” said Felicia.

  Then the quiet turned to noise, rage-filled sounds with chaos and barking and flesh. Wolves rushed in from all sides, tearing into the formation, finally breaking its uniformity, accomplishing what Norman and his tiny band of defenders couldn’t do.

  Felicia took advantage of the chaos and lifted Norman up by his arm. She didn’t waste time with pleasantries, immediately turning to join the fight.

  “No,” shouted Norman. He grasped her arm and pulled her toward the side of the road. “We can hide there.” He pointed at a parked car.

  “I’m not hiding,” she replied and shook free. She leapt away and landed on the back of a soldier who held a wolf up by its neck. She stabbed him in his back, and he fell shrieking to the ground.

  Norman sprinted to her. “It’s too dangerous. They’re too many of them.”

  “I know,” replied Felicia. “That’s why I’m staying.”

  For an instant, Norman heard a soldier roaring up behind him. Then Felicia’s knife whizzed past his ear. It struck the soldier’s eye, deflecting his direction. Felicia caught him, re-gripped her knife, and activated a silver pellet.

  Another soldier flew, flailing through the air and landed beside Norman. Rufus, dotted with puncture wounds strode up beside him. “Time to end your chat. Fight.”

  Norman turned to face the bulk of the Corps. V army. They had descended into disarray. Perhaps one hundred wolves bit into their necks and dug at their hearts. Dogs flew through the air as they were tossed about by the invincible vampires.

  Some of the Corps. V sprinted along the edges of the fighting and toward the White House, determined to reach their target. As the stream approached the entrance, machine guns erupted from the roof. The bullets hit some, knocking them down and sending chunks of flesh splattering around the lawn. Some completed the sprint and entered the building.

  “We’re not going to make it. They’re in the White House!” shouted Norman.

  “Then that’s where we need to be, too,” said Rufus. He reached out and grabbed a soldier, who’d advanced on them, by the neck and lifted him off the ground. He prepared to thrust the beast to the ground, temporarily incapacitating him.

  “Wait,” shouted Norman. He recognized the brute. He had a tear across the chest of his uniform where Felicia had cut him open back at the self-storage.

  Norman looked close. The brightening light illuminated the enemy’s skin. It had changed. It retained its pale pallor but had a barely perceptible green cast. “Put him down,” said Norman.

  “I intend to.” He lifted the huge vampire over his head.

  “No! Wait. We need him.”

  “What for?”

  “An experiment,” replied Norman.

  Rufus placed the soldier onto the ground. “Happy?” Then he punched him in the face. The muscular soldier fell to the pavement, unconscious.

  “We need to get into the White House. It may already be too late,” said Norman. He looked over the fighting to the vast green lawn. Corps. V soldiers broke out of the main combat and ran into the ornate white building. More rushed through the fighting to join them.

  “This way,” shouted Norman. He rushed to the edge of the fighting mob and ran along the side toward the White House. Most combatants ignored them, as they engaged the snarling wolves.

  They neared the iron fence that surrounded the president’s home. Machine gun fire continued to rain down from the White House roof.

  Rufus stopped. “We should avoid that if we can.”

  The small group of vampires looked around for ways to get in without being torn to pieces by large caliber rounds. It might not kill them, but it could keep them out.

  Norman ran into the fighting mob again and emerged dragging a Corps. V soldier. The combatant had streams of blood oozing from his throat, which had been torn open and now seemed a mass of undifferentiated gristle. “A shield.” Norman heaved the limp form over his head, a bullet umbrella.

  “Ha,” said Rufus. He disappeared into the melee next. Moments later he flew out and smashed to the ground tumbling to Norman’s feet. Blood streamed from his nose. He groaned and stood up as if waking up from a long night’s sleep.

  A massive vampire charged out of the fighting mob after him: Cornelius. “I didn’t think I’d get another chance at you. Killing dogs is one thing. But a chance to kill a real soldier? It’s an honor.”

  Rufus stood up and tried to shake off his grog. Cornelius smiled and place his knives back in his belt. “I might as well enjoy this.” He spun and kicked Rufus square in the chest. The stunned vampire flew back and smashed into a parked car, punching a crater into its door. He sl
id to the ground. Bits of his flesh stuck to the sharp corners of sheet metal that the impact had created.

  Cornelius relaxed his combat pose a little. “Too easy.” He withdrew a knife once again and flitted around the air in a display of dexterity.

  From behind him, a high-pitched scream of rage announced Felicia’s charge. She flew past Norman and careened dagger first into Cornelius.

  The large warrior dodged the point but her bulk impacted him, and they tumbled to the ground. They rolled and came to a stop. Felicia sat atop him trying to grab at his arms.

  Norman blurred toward them, grasping Felicia away from the superior fighter. She slashed as he dragged her, trying to slice into him before he was out of range. She struggled and knocked Norman off balance. He tripped and, they fell to the pavement.

  “What are you doing?” yelled Felicia.

  Before Norman could reply, a point of wood pushed through his stomach. The rest of the long ornate stake followed nearly piercing Felicia as well.

  Norman yelled as the pain of a million splinters of wood, tearing out his insides, surged through his body.

  Cornelius lifted Norman up by his soldier’s spike He lifted the stake high over his head. Norman slid down the length of wood, leaving strings of gore lining its carved surface. He stopped when his wound slipped down to Cornelius’ hand, and his face was inches from the invincible soldier’s.

  “You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, teacher, “said Cornelius. “But everything comes to an end.”

  Norman tried to mouth a response but the pain gripped his throat and only spit and blood shot from his mouth.

  Cornelius grasped the handle of a knife in his belt.

  Before he could withdraw it, Felicia lunged at him from the ground. Cornelius stomped on her hand, smashing it and her dagger to the ground. She shrieked as her bones cracked and her knife skidded across the pavement with a metallic tinkling.

  Cornelius heaved his stake and smashed Norman to the ground. The jerking of the wood, tore at Norman, ripping him apart from the inside. Cornelius’s stoic soldier’s face betrayed a hint of a smile. He yanked hard at the stake, rending it from Norman’s body.