“So, first we’re gonna stop by Uncle Willy’s place which is just about 30 miles from here.”
“Who’s Uncle Willy?” Dustin asked.
“Uncle Willy ain’t nobody. Uncle Willy is a place. It’s a long story. But we’ll have plenty of road ahead to talk about it later. Anyway, after that we’ll be heading for the Queen’s hive down South in New Orleans.”
“What about Necropolis? Dad told us to meet him there,” Toby said.
“Little buddy, Necropolis is gone. Last I heard everybody hightailed it outta there. Left the whole city in smoke. And I bet you anything they’re headed the same place we are. So just sit tight and I’ll get you to your dad as quick as I can. But keep a lookout in the mirror for Imperial cops. We get stopped and we’ll be goin’ nowhere reeeeeal fuckin’ fast.”
Toby nodded and sat back in his seat. They were all quiet for a long while. Toby watched as tall grass, wheat fields, and distant smoke plumes passed in the window. He wondered if he would see his father when they reached New Orleans. He hoped so. He wanted nothing more in the world than to see him again, hug him, and apologize for all the hell he had put him through.
* * *
It was the first ray of sunshine lighting fire to Jack’s hand that woke him from a deep dark sleep. He half howled, half screamed with the pain of it. It motivated him beyond anything he’d ever encountered before. Weak as he was, he pulled the stake free from his chest and the ground beneath him and tossed it aside splattering blood onto the ground and the leaves and branches of a nearby tree. Probably the same tree whose shade was saving his life.
His eyes were black with bloodlust from his nearly drained condition, but he knew that what he needed now more than ever was shelter. To get away from the sun’s smoldering UV rays before it was too late. Then he could rest still alive to wake up and feed later. He dug and clawed at the ground, tearing out huge chunks of leaves, dirt, clay, and tree roots. When he had made a hole big enough to fit his upper body he dove in and began to dig even deeper. Once he was deep enough that his feet were underground he kicked at the soil, breaking it loose and causing it to fall over him. Before long he was deeper in the ground and enough soil was loose that it began to avalanche until he was fully buried within. Rage filled his every cell as he lay there in the wormy filth like his ancestors. He hated it. Hated the boy for being so elusive. So slippery. But most of all he loved him. Wanted him even more. He didn’t care one lick or fuck about the Emperor and his deal anymore. He would find the boy and drink him. And nothing would stand in his way.
* * *
A short while later the big green Chevy rustbucket pulled onto an old gravel road that looked like it had been originally built for horses and carriages. Brownish white dust-smoke rose up in clouds around all sides of the truck as it raced along the bumpy road crunching gravel underneath. Beyond the dust, barren fields the color of dead leaves, dotted with old dilapidated barns and houses, accompanied each side of the road stretching downhill as far as the eye could see.
After about half an hour filled with more and more of nearly the same exact scenery Jonathan finally slowed the truck and swerved into one of the long gravel driveways leading up to one of the run down barns. It wasn't the largest one Toby had noticed along the way but it was pretty close. The wide structure towered crookedly into the sky, the right side of its triangle-sloped roof caved in with broken boards and pieces hanging loose like a man whose teeth have just been punched out. The color must have once been a dark brown but had since faded to a dull gray with occasional hints of its original hue in the form of random chips of paint still barely hanging on.
As the truck dragged its way up the bumpy driveway that was made more of potholes than gravel, Jonathan pulled out a small walkie-talkie and spoke into it.
"Cougar 1-4, Cougar 1-4, over?"
Static filled the cab of the truck for a moment then was replaced by a high-pitched screech followed by a thick southern accent nearly drowned in distortion. "Affirmative, Cougar, open sesame." Jonathan put the walkie-talkie away without another word and slowed the truck as they came close to the barn's entrance. A moment later, the large door opened and a tall man in thick brown overalls with rustled black hair and a face that looked like it hadn't been washed in decades followed behind it, pushing it open then bracing it with a large rock. He rubbed his hands together and then waved, a huge grin wrapping around his face.
Toby was the only one to wave back. Jonathan just sighed and put the truck in gear and Dustin gave Toby a cautious glance of scrunched up eyebrows and wrinkled nose. When the truck was all the way in the barn, the tall man closed the big wooden door and latched it into place.
Inside, the place was mostly dark with bright rays of sunshine stretching inward from the collapsed ceiling and illuminating patches of ground covered in yellow hay and dried mud. Jonathan killed the engine and leaned over to Dustin and Toby.
"Well… here we are. Uncle Willy’s. Hang on right here, I'll only be a minute." He winked and got out of the truck, walked over to the tall man, and spoke in a hushed voice.
Dustin turned to Toby, "I'm not digging this place. It kind of gives me the creeps." Toby nodded and looked back at Jonathan and the man in overalls and attempted to read something of what they were saying on their lips. They were both facing the truck and Jonathan was pointing at the cab. When he was finished speaking, the tall man jumped up in the air like a child who's just won a prize.
"I wanna meet 'im—I wanna—can I, can I—please, please?"
Jonathan quickly hushed the man putting his hand flat against his chest just above the overalls. The tall man deflated and looked down at the ground with an exaggerated frown and drooped shoulders. He kicked at some dried mud as he muttered something inaudible back at Jonathan who in turn rolled his eyes and tapped the man's chest with the back of his hand and gestured toward the back of the barn. Once he had the man's attention, the two of them walked over to the far corner disappearing just beyond the brilliant beams of sunlight.
Dustin let out a heavy sigh as he sat nervously stroking his beard. "I'm really not digging this."
Toby didn't answer. Instead he took the moment to study what little detail he could in this old place. A moment later there was a loud thud that made both Dustin and Toby jump. Jonathan seemed to poof into view in the bright sunlight causing Dustin to put an arm against Toby's chest in some sort of strange reactive move to protect him. Jonathan's expression was one of annoyance and exhaustion. He waved for them to get out of the truck. "Come on. I thought we'd be able to just stop for a minute but the whole goddamn clan apparently wants to meet you two.
A moment later nearly a dozen men and women appeared from behind the blinding beams of light with big smiles on genuinely friendly faces. Toby put his hand on Dustin's arm that was still pressed against his chest.
"They look like nice people, D. Let's just go say 'hi.'" Dustin seemed to waver while he looked them over more. Toby took advantage of that moment to open the truck door and get out before Dustin could stop him.
"Damnit," Dustin said as he struggled to climb out of the truck after Toby.
The small crowd of men and women led them beyond the sunbeams where in the shadows a single trap door sat partially covered with hay. Several of the men walked up and kicked the straw out of the way and one of them pulled open the door. Single file, they led the way down the narrow stairway into a well-lit gray concrete room below. Each one of them wore a different casual country outfit, everything from the tall man's overalls to country western long sleeve shirts with fake jeweled silver buttons, blue jeans with huge belt buckles, loose hanging T-shirts, and long dresses that looked like they'd last been worn at the state fair's square-dancing contest.
When Toby looked over, Dustin was no longer by his side. He stood across the room staring at a wall covered in mounted handguns, rifles, and machine guns of all different shapes and sizes with his jaw hanging agape.
"Word," he said in an intense breathy voi
ce.
In the meantime Toby seemed to be surrounded by a circle of men and women who for a moment simply stared at him in awe. A short man with greasy dark hair in a black leather jacket and ripped-up jeans stepped forward and extended his hand to Toby. "Hi, I'm Scott Fryer, nice to meet you. Are you really the son of Hank Evans?"
"Uh, nice to meet you too. I'm Toby." He paused uncertainly. "Yeah, that's my dad. Do you know him?"
"No way, none of us have met the guy, but we all sure as hell know who he is. A lot travels by word o' mouth through the Fo-dah-ra-tee..."
"The what..."
Jonathan walked up then and interrupted. "The Foederati. The unseen. We've been building up an army ever since the beginning of the Empire. We're the North Texas chapter. Don't mind this bumpkin here, he spends way too much time out with the pigs if you know what I mean." Jonathan let out a bellow of laughter while Scott scowled.
"Kiss my ass, Jon, I'm just trying to be nice."
"Hey, hey now. Let the boy have some space and act like reasonable gentlemen for Christ sakes," a graying man in blue jean overalls and a bright red flannel shirt said and turned to Toby. "I'm sorry, son. We're all just really excited to meet you. We heard the uprising's about to begin and we can't wait to get started. It's been too damn long since the stars and colored stripes was raised." The man reached forward and shook Toby's hand firmly and then patted his head.
“Are you Uncle Willy, sir?”
The man laughed. "No, no, no. I'm Elder Joshua, son, it's a fine pleasure to meet you."
A couple of the men had wandered over to where Dustin stood gaping at the mounted armory. They seemed to all be in animated discussion about all things guns and ammo. Toby knew it had been illegal enough, Dustin having that handgun, but this place would warrant an Imperial Police bust complete with multiple one-way tickets to Necropolis. Except there no longer was a Necropolis anymore. For the first time, Toby wondered just what would happen to those who broke the law now. The image of all those vampires surrounding the Emperor flashed in his mind and he pictured vampires patrolling the streets at night watching over the houses waiting for the slightest excuse to attack anyone who happened to venture out into the darkness.
After shaking more hands and meeting more people than Toby could rightfully remember, the crowd seemed to slowly disperse and people went about their business. They headed off to many different doors that seemed to be used for various purposes. Toby managed to make his way over to Dustin who was talking with Jonathan and Elder Joshua.
"How is it I've never heard of the Foederati before? I know a lot that goes on in the underground scene. I buy a lot of illegal music and books and I even own a handgun. I would have been glad to join up years ago."
"Well, son, the Foederati mostly recruits in rural areas. Too many people are connected in the bigger cities and all too often in the past whole city chapters have been wiped out because of this. We've learned over time to steer clear of larger populations and do extensive research on those who might make good candidates. Sometimes word travels some and city folk will move out to the sticks just to be found by us and so we're always finding new recruits. But it's risky business and doesn't always go so well. Hell, you wouldn't even be here in this place right now if you weren't with this young man here." Elder Joshua glanced over at Toby and winked.
After some time, it was decided it was too late for the three of them to travel with the possible threat of the Empire's vampire army out there. Dustin and Toby were led down a long hallway of concrete walls lined with plain wooden doors each with a single brass doorknob. Jonathan opened one and pointed inside.
"This one's vacant. You guys can bunk in here and get some shut eye and we'll head out in the morning as soon as the sun sets." He sighed. "I hadn't planned on this, but I'm kind of glad it worked out this way. We have a long drive ahead of us and I could use the rest myself."
Dustin nodded. "So how come it's just you taking us down there? Seems like it would be safer to send more men with Toby."
Jonathan laughed. "The war hasn't started yet, man. We want to keep things as low key as possible. We send a truckload of guys down south and we might as well post up a sign that says 'WANTED TRAITORS' in the back fuckin' window. This way, we get down there nice and quiet and no red flags get raised."
Dustin nodded.
"Oh, and I almost forgot." Jonathan reached into his trench coat and pulled out the crossbow he had used to shoot the vampire in the woods. "Hold on to this tonight... just in case. We'll have men posted outside overnight, so you most likely won't have to use it, but we're not used to having wanted fugitives holed up in here either."
Dustin's eyes seemed to glaze over as Jonathan handed over the crossbow. "Sure thing."
The words "wanted fugitives" stuck in Toby's mind. He'd never thought of it that way. The realization of just how dangerous the situation was seemed to truly come into focus then. Even when they'd been attacked by the vampire outside the diner, it hadn't fully hit him. It all happened so fast that he only had time to flee in animalistic fear. But now his mind had time to really process that fear and distribute it with a sense of reason.
Toby walked into the small room and climbed up onto the top bunk and lay down as Jonathan showed Dustin how to load and fire the crossbow. As he looked in their direction his mind went into a sort of daze and when Dustin clicked a long silver stake into place with a loud click, it made Toby jump and nearly fall out of the bed. He sighed and turned over, closed his eyes and attempted to get some rest. He knew he would not get much sleep now.
Chapter 18
A Candle in the Dark
George Nelson had been searching for his brother for weeks with very little to show for it. Several leads had been promising, but in the end they all only led to other William Nelsons with other lives from other families. All the while, George kept an eye on the news and studied up on the past 20 years he’d missed. He had almost forgotten entirely about Necropolis until the day the big news struck: The Emperor (of whose memory George could never scrub from his mind) had declared war against the city. But that wasn’t the part that had truly captured George’s fascination. He found the missing piece of the puzzle.
Vampires.
Necropolis was a city of vampires. And Joseph planned to fight them with an army of the same vile creatures; he’d even shown them on television. George understood now exactly why the people behaved the way they did, why they followed this terrible man blindly into the night. The risk was too great not to.
George sipped his coffee, the mug shaking in his hand as he watched the TV. Dozens of what, until now, George had known to be mythical creatures who sucked the blood from human beings in order to survive floated above Joseph Caesar as he spoke of his plans to attack the city. There were different ones too on the ground standing still as the dead, glassy eyes staring into the camera with a morbid sense of intimidation. They looked more human. They had human eyes anyway, human faces. But the fangs were impossible to miss.
When the broadcast was over, all he could manage to do was sit and stare at the television. Some soap opera had continued from the “unscheduled interruption.” But George wasn’t hearing the words the actors were saying; he wasn’t seeing the drama that was unfolding on the screen. It all made sense now. Even though he had never seen any fangs himself, but it had to be. The Emperor had to be some kind of vampire. It was the only thing that would explain what George had learned.
The book had arrived in Caesar’s mail all those years ago. It caught George’s eye immediately, so he decided to take a detour to his office before he brought it and the rest of the mail to Joseph. It was a single bound book with Joseph’s mailing address printed in black over a white background on the cover. No envelope or box, no return address. A thin string wrapped around it and tied it closed. It appeared to have been made at some kind of crude printing press, something not quite professional but good enough to print something of generic quality and had been bound securely enough to
mail.
The pages inside were printed photocopies of notes and longer handwritten accounts in various languages, drawings, and even some newspaper articles with pictures. Skimming through the pages, it appeared to be put together in chronological order starting as far back as ancient Roman times up to the very year and month the book had arrived. But what had haunted George immediately upon seeing them were the drawings.
Ancient drawings surrounded by ancient-looking handwritten text George recognized from his years of theological studies to be Ancient Greek. He didn’t know how to read or write the language, but he knew then that he would have to learn because the sketches that accompanied the text bore striking likenesses to Joseph. Some in generic profile and some in the midst of atrocious, sinful, and even murderous acts. From the blue eyes and gray hair, right down to the small scar on the left side of his cheek that most people barely noticed. But when you’ve been close to a man for as many years as George had been close to Joseph, you discover things that nobody else does. And George knew now that some of those discoveries can be dangerous.
The book had been weighing on him, floating in the back of his mind ever since he’d woken in that hospital bed. When he’d confronted Joseph about it, he hadn’t been stupid enough to bring the original. And he hadn’t even brought him the entire book. Only enough copied pages to bring the point home. The real book could still be where he had hidden it. Even Bill hadn’t known about it. Or Joseph could have found it, destroyed it, and could even expect George to come looking for it someday. But why hadn’t the terrible creature just killed him?
George realized then that his very life presented a weakness to the Emperor. A weakness that George would have to exploit. The news report had settled it for him. He would go and find the book if it was there to be found. And with hope, faith and God’s grace, George would reveal Joseph Caesar for the false idol that he was.
Empire of Blood (Book 2): Fading In Darkness Page 11