by Clark Hays
“Lenny,” Tucker said, “you are a genius. You’ve been busy since I left.”
He nodded. “Figured you’d need some help soon.”
The heat took its toll as the day dragged on. The three men sat in the shade and contemplated how many beers would be okay without impairing their abilities, come the evening.
The Adamite security force sweated silently, patrolling the walls and peering out into the shimmering waste. Down below, in the comfort of air conditioning but with nerves frazzled by tension, others scanned monitors or else sat rigidly, listening through electronic ears.
Despite the wall of electronic defense, Rex sensed them first.
He sat up to sniff at the air, a puzzled look on his face. Alexandra opened an eye to watch him.
“What’s wrong with your dog?” Dad asked. “He’s acting funny.”
“He always acts funny,” Tucker said and pushed at Rex with his boot heel. Instead of lying back down, Rex whined and looked anxiously toward the gate. Alexandra sprang up, looking back and forth between the shimmering sky and Rex.
“Rex, what the hell’s the matter with you?” Dad said.
“Aww, shit,” Tucker swore. “They’re here.”
“They can’t be. It’s the middle of the day.”
“I’m telling you, Rex ain’t never wrong about when the shit is about to hit the fan. Take cover.” He grabbed hold of the dogs and pulled them close as Dad and Lenny looked around bewildered. “Get down.”
The first rocket fell, looking more like an errant firework, some lost remnant of the Fourth of July drifting lazily over the adobe walls.
“What the …” Dad started to say but Lenny took him by the arm and dragged him under the table.
“Incoming!” he yelled.
The explosion ripped through the courtyard, sending shards of sandstone through the air like a swarm of angry bees. Smoke swirled thick and there were cries of alarm as armed soldiers moved toward the walls. The mounted guns swiveled in unison and began to chatter with an endless roar that rained burning brass in glittering arcs.
“Jesus Christ,” Tucker shouted as the hiss of another rocket filled the air.
Lenny scooped up the massive sniper rifle and climbed up onto the wall, bolting a live round in and scanning the desert. Across the vast expanse, he sighted in on a dusty cloud of rocket vapor and a group of grim-faced men in desert camo. One was already staggering back under the impact of launch. The miniguns locked on to the descending missile and a hail of bullets detonated it harmlessly in front of the walls. Lenny sighted, gently stroked the trigger, and with an echoing blast, sent a bullet racing across the desert. It caught the soldier just above the belt and drove him stumbling backward, the launcher falling to his side. The rest of the group scattered, their faces mirroring disbelief. He racked another round in and drove a shot into the launcher, smiling with tight satisfaction when it jumped sideways from the impact.
Dad crawled up beside him on the wall, lugging the modified stake gun. “Shoot them bastards with this, shoot them with this. They won’t stay dead.”
“These ain’t vampires,” Lenny said. “They’re humans. Have to be. It’s daytime.”
As if on cue, a contingent of camouflaged men rose up out of the dust and scrub of the desert, their heads swathed in mesh and leaves. They leveled automatic rifles toward the compound and round after round crashed into the walls and skipped off the stones. Two men fell away, mortally wounded. A third cried out and spun away from the wall, clutching his shoulder.
“Shit,” Tucker said, joining them, “I don’t think Lazarus counted on this.”
“When you say Lazarus,” Lenny said, calmly, feeding another shell in, “you don’t mean the real Lazarus, do you?” He squeezed off another shot and another man fell.
“I sure do,” Tucker responded, shouldering a Steyr bullpup offered by a frightened young man ducking out of view below them.
“So this guy actually knew Jesus?” Lenny asked.
Tucker rattled off a long burst and grimaced at the responding shriek of agony. “Knew him, hell, Jesus raised him from the dead. Made him a vampire.”
“This sure does change things,” Lenny said. He pointed at a box of ammo at the table below and Dad handed it up to him.
“You mean the battle plan?” Tucker asked.
“Naw. We’re fine, long as they don’t have any choppers or many more of them missiles. I’m talking about Jesus.” A bullet slapped into the edge and he winced, the slivers of stone cutting into his cheek. “The whole thing has always seemed so mysterious, but this guy knew the real thing. No mystery. No faith. Historical fact. Damn, Tucker, the implications are astounding.”
Tucker slapped a new clip in and peeked over the wall. “The only implications that astound me are how it’s going to feel being dead.”
The mercenaries outside fell back to the cover of some monolithic sandstone columns, just out of range of the miniguns but still well within the range of Lenny, who was casually drilling holes through anyone stupid enough to reveal themselves.
The sun bore down and the minutes dragged by. Tucker slipped away long enough to lead Dad and the dogs to Lizzie’s room.
Though reluctant to miss out on the action, Dad pulled up a chair, rested a thermite-loaded shotgun across his lap and held the Casull in one hand. Rex and Alexandra cowered under the bed.
Back on the wall, Lenny was watching the activity through the lens of his scope. “Uh-oh,” he murmured.
“What? What?” Tucker demanded anxiously.
“Nothing, just get your head down.”
Tucker ducked as two mercenaries sprang into view holding rocket launchers. The rest concentrated heavy fire along the wall, pinning the defenders down.
“If they launch another in here, we’re toast,” Tucker said and already the whoosh of a missile cut through the small arms fire. Then another.
They exploded forty yards in front of the main gate. Simultaneously, a new sound could be heard. A popping sound. And then electric flashes of intense light. “Jesus Christ,” Lenny said. “They ignited the bouncing Betties.”
They both peeked over to see the explosions triggering the sensitive mines. Hard rubber balls the size of plums were springing up from the sand and exploding with a sizzle, splashing thermite that, with its intense heat, fused the sand to glass.
“Crap,” Lenny said. “They ain’t here to kill us. They’re just softening us up for tonight.”
Tucker nodded grimly. “That means it’s gonna be a long night.”
“It won’t be long if there ain’t no mines left. The vampires’ll be able to walk right up and ring the doorbell like trick-or-treaters.”
“I got an idea. There’s a tunnel runs from here to some ruins over in those distant hills behind the bad guys. If we can find it, you could take that long rifle and hunker down in the rocks. I bet you could flush them out in short order.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lenny said. “Where should we start looking?”
Tucker peeked out across the landscape and tried to imagine the tunnel lying cold and empty below the rocks and cactus. He jumped down and entered the house, Lenny close on his heels, stuffing ammo into the oversized pockets of his cargo pants. They wound their way down into the cool caverns beneath the house and ran from door to door, opening them into various rooms.
Some were lined with books, others with pale-faced men watching video screens or else working at keyboards, manipulating the guidance systems of the guns. Other rooms were empty except for the bodies of vampires, peacefully dead to the onslaught above.
After fifteen minutes of searching, they had yet to find any sort of access. Tucker squatted down to think next to the pool where Lazarus had so recently soaked.
“Jesus, where the hell could it be?” He scuffed a pebble loose and dropped it in the water, staring at the rings it made.
Lenny was leaning on his gun. “We’re running out of time, Tucker.”
“I know. I know.
” He threw another stone savagely into the still water. “Has to be somewhere that’s easy to get to, but well hidden. He wouldn’t trust Lizzie’s only line of escape to something obvious.”
The empty chamber echoed his frustration and he swore under his breath. “Where in the hell would I hide a tunnel?”
Lenny scratched his ear. “Someplace obvious. Someplace you could look right at and still not know.” He looked up and Tucker was staring at him.
“Christ, Lenny.” He jumped into the water, his boot heels sinking into the sandy bottom. He ducked his head under and felt around the smooth walls. At the bottom was a hole not two feet across. He came up for a breath and then dove under. It was a tight fit into a narrow tube that horseshoed into a similar pool, this one rough and unfinished. Beyond the edges, lit by dim bulb, cavern walls reflected slightly in the gleam. The tunnel.
He returned to the other side and when he broke the surface, Lenny was already wrapping the gun in a plastic bag, the contents, Tucker assumed, of one of the many pockets of his combat vest. He clipped a flashlight to his waist, clapped Tucker on the back and disappeared with a splash.
Tucker raced back upstairs, commandeering all the able bodies he could muster. Armed and ready, they squatted out of the line of fire and waited. He imagined Lenny making his way through the tunnel, prayed he was in shape enough to make it fast.
Fast indeed. Twenty-one minutes after parting ways, the first shot rang out.
From that distance, the report took several seconds to carry across. He saw a flash of smoke from the distant rocks. Then a man screamed and tumbled prostrate into the open. Only then did the low rumble of the shot reach his ears. From then on, the fighting took a turn for the grim. Trapped between an unseen sniper and a well-armed contingent, Julius’ mercenaries struggled to hold their own, and lost. Those who made a break for it were cut down by the men on the walls, and those who sat and prayed were only waiting in line for the next shot. Faced with no choice, they chose the obvious: surrender.
Tucker watched through field glasses as one of them waved a white flag. Thirty mercenaries, barely half of those that initiated the assault, slowly walked toward the compound, weapons left behind. Once in range, the big guns swiveled noiselessly to cover them, and Tucker stood on top of the wall and shouted.
“Howdy, boys. Strip down to your skivvies and then keep your hands up high. You got to know that you’re beat. Don’t make us slaughter you.”
The mercenaries obliged, swearing up a storm, and Lazarus’ men ushered them inside. Half naked and wholly demoralized, they were herded into a storage shed and locked up tight. Lenny came up from the basement, dripping wet, cradling the rifle. His eyes were glazed. “This is some nasty business, Tucker.”
“I reckon it’ll get worse.” Tucker eyed the horizon and the sun hanging poised there. “A lot worse.”
FIFTY-TWO
When Lizzie awoke, Tucker was holding her hand and speaking but the words were soft and incomplete, barely penetrating the fog of death slowly clearing in her head.
“… baby … got to wake up. Baby, wake up. It’s me.”
“Tucker,” she said sleepily. She squeezed his hand, careful not to crush the bones. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, now get up. They already attacked. We’re in a bad way.”
She sat bolt upright. “Oh my God. He’s here?”
“Worse. He sent some Adamites ahead to — shit, I can’t believe I just said that.”
“What?”
“Adamites. They were humans,” he said. “Anyway, we had a pretty rough go of it for a while. Didn’t lose many men, but we lost damn near all of our defenses. When Julius shows, the only thing between us and him is the wall.”
She was silent, then quickly stood to dress. “That won’t be enough. He’s close. Confident. We have to run. We can stay far enough ahead until the time has passed.” She tugged his arm.
“Come on.” He didn’t budge. “Tucker, let’s go. Get Dad and Lenny. And Elita. Let’s go.”
Tucker shook his head, his features drawn thin by lack of sleep and accentuated by the shadows. “It’s too late for that, Lizzie. If we leave here now, we’re done for. None of us would make it through this except you and then only ’til he was done with you. We’re stuck here.”
A flush of panic washed across her face, but she swallowed deeply and regained herself. “Has Lazarus been told?”
“Dad went to find Sully and him both.” As if on cue, the sounds of frantic activity from below swelled into a commotion as vampires burst into their version of life.
They could hear Lazarus, his voice booming over the confusion organizing the chaos into a last-ditch defense.
Thundering footsteps stopped outside the door. It was Lazarus, with Dad and Sully. Farther behind, was Elita, her normally calm face showing faint traces of fear as she looked over her shoulder. If this defense failed, she would perish. Julius would never suffer her to live. Old habits die hard and the will to live, taken for granted for close to three thousand years, was deeply entrenched and not something she was in a hurry to break.
Lazarus drew to a stop, his features pinched. “We have little time.” He took Tucker’s arm briefly. “Again, we owe you a great debt. Without you and your friend, all might have been lost.”
Tucker shrugged. “Pretty much everything was lost anyway,” he said.
“True, the perimeter defense suffered much. But lives were saved.”
“Lazarus,” Lizzie said, brushing past Tucker, “we have to leave. I can’t put the rest of you at risk.”
“Out of the question. We have made our choice. No one is here against their will. We can defeat Julius. You will be safe here. Now you must excuse me.” He turned and lumbered down the hall, followed by a group of vampires with determined faces.
The ragtag group stood outside and inside Lizzie’s room, unsure of what to do next. Lizzie looked down the hall at Lenny lugging weapons toward them. He offered one to Elita, who curled her lip in scorn, then examined her fingernails as if offering confirmation of her weapon of choice.
Sully was not so proud, taking a shotgun and a bag of ammunition, and slinging it over his shoulder.
Lenny passed the same equipment to Dad, who took it and leaned with his back against the wall just outside the door, making it clear he was on duty again.
Every pair of eyes cast nervously about. Every pair of ears strained against the silence. Every nerve was drawn taut, but nothing stirred in the desert. No motion. No sound, not even the call of coyotes or nightbirds. Even the wind seemed dead, or at least undead.
Those who had more to lose than just their lives, more to lose than immortality, gathered together in the drawing room to say nothing.
“You okay, darling?” Tucker asked Lizzie.
“No, not so great.”
“It is probably the power inside you,” Lazarus said.
“It’s probably those goddamn cigarettes,” Tucker said, nodding his head toward Elita who leaned on the windowsill, smoking her exotic cigarettes and staring nervously into the night. She was dressed for war, a leather miniskirt paired with a sleeveless denim blouse and men’s combat boots shined to a mirror-like state.
She looked beautiful, which irritated Tucker to no end as he watched Lenny watch her as surreptitiously as possible. He glared over at her. “I don’t suppose you’d go outside to smoke those?”
She smiled coolly “I’d love to, but I might just run off. I’m not trustworthy, you know.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Let her be,” Lizzie said. “We’re all nervous.”
“Only thing I’m nervous about is dying from secondhand smoke before the vampires kill me,” Tucker grumbled.
“They aren’t going to kill you,” Lazarus said. “We are ready.” His voice lacked conviction, however, and his face showed the strain of two thousand years.
“Speaking of that,” Lenny said. “Reckon I’ll go make another circle.” He
hefted the odd gun over his shoulder and headed for the door.
“Mind if I tag along?” Dad asked.
Elita took his seat beside Sully, who instinctively shrank away from her. She stubbed out her cigarette and laughed, a sound at once welcome yet strangely out of place in the solemn room. “I can’t believe it comes down to this.”
“You don’t have to be here,” Lizzie said quietly.
Elita allowed herself a quick, wry smile. “It’s not about you anymore. It’s about me. About choices. About mistaken assumptions I’ve carried for a thousand years.”
“About love?” Lizzie asked.
Elita looked at Tucker until he was uncomfortable and had to look down, then her eyes turned to Lizzie. “Sometimes you have to live with the truth for a long time before you can accept it. I thought love was a game. Now I see that it isn’t.”
Outside, Lenny climbed the adobe wall and, resting on his elbows, scanned the desert with infrared goggles. The view blacked out and he ripped them away from his face to see a vampire, one of Lazarus’ men, standing in front of him. “They don’t work on us,” he said simply. “Unless we have recently fed and then they only reveal faint traces. Try these.” He offered an elaborate set of binoculars to Lenny. “These are motion sensitive and amplify ambient light. Much more effective.”
The illuminated landscape was silver and surreal. He panned them slowly across the sand and rock until a tiny comet ripped across the viewfinder, trailed by a streak of blue. He sucked his breath in sharply and tensed, but as the comet slowed, it was only a rabbit. Lenny smiled and slithered back down to the ground inside the wall.
Had he continued to watch, he would have seen the rabbit crouch in sudden fear as a pale hand darted out to snatch it back into deeper shadows.
“Nothing moving,” he said to Dad. “Maybe they ain’t coming after all,” he started to say, but then froze in midsentence. “Shit, I hear something.” From inside the house, muffled barks echoed confirmation and already a distinct thrumming filled the air.
“Choppers,” Lenny whispered, then shouted a warning. “Choppers. Choppers.”