The Vampires Of Livix Twin Pack (Volumes #2 & #3)

by Smith, J Gordon

  Another sword struck into the fuselage probing for stowaways not disembarked yet. Then a second sword pierced the other side of the plane near the cabin. Brett looked and saw a face with hands shielding her eyes from the rain mixed glare of the mercury vapor light hanging against the aircraft shed splashing across the cabin glass. A yell outside and the swords stopped probing and started slashing along the length of the plane body, one from the rear on one side and the other approaching the rear from the front. Brett knew he would end up in pieces – here or – he burst through the door into the rain. He tucked himself into a forward roll, not knowing how far away the grass of the runway wriggled from the door. He rolled away from the plane.

  A sword sliced through the raindrops near Brett’s ears.

  “Sorry,” Uncle Tremper said as his sword came back and blocked the blow from an assassin in front of him. The other assassins converged on them. Brett scrambled back through the grass on his hands and knees and rolled under the truck. Water pooled a few inches deep here but the rain did not scratch at his body. The assassins ignored the human under the truck – for now. Lightning lit the field striking one of the other metal storage sheds. Brett’s ears crackled with static and he wondered how long before the building next to him or the truck received such a strike while he lay fatally immersed in this puddle.

  Uncle Tremper hit at them with his sword. Five of the assassins sprinted around him in a deadly tightening circle of sword points. Like young wolves pestering an old grizzly, they struck and retreated. The bear growled and lunged, getting quick jabs that flung the assassins back but the group morphed and followed the shape of his attacks. He managed killing one and then a second of the assassins but he became severely wounded during his last overextension.

  Water sloshed off the vampires and washed into the puddle under the truck. Lazy rivulets of red meandering between the blades of grass stuffing themselves under the vehicle in contrast to the violently rapid sword strikes occurring a dozen feet away. Uncle Tremper held the three assassins back and while the fight seemed balanced now he could not seem to gain any advantage. Brett wondered how long they could keep going until one or the other made a serious enough mistake to turn the fight.

  One of the assassins stepped back leaving two of them to press their attack on Uncle Tremper. Brett saw her reach to her belt and unlatch a grenade and pull the pin with her teeth. The grenade looked different, but then Brett remembered the curious construction details of Uncle Tremper’s bomb. She held what must be a live vampire grenade in one hand and rejoined the fray with her sword in the other. Then another assassin faded to do the same thing. Then the third assassin held one. Brett didn’t see where the battle could go but badly now. If Uncle Tremper killed one assassin then he died with all of them. The assassins played a serious game.

  Brett scooted deeper under the truck and out the back against the corrugated steel wall of the shed. He scrambled for the door and flipped the knob to slither inside the old structure finding the building empty. The owners did not keep a plane here and must not have thought keeping any other tools or equipment important. The whole place appeared swept clean except for a dusty and grimy office chair that sat crooked with a missing caster in the middle of the building.

  Brett knew nothing useful could be in the truck since Uncle Tremper liked to keep his truck and plane tidy. Then he had a thought, “Could the truck be the weapon?” That could unbalance the three assassins and allow Uncle Tremper to deal with them in spite of their dead-man grenades. A back corner of his mind prodded his thoughts that they could throw a grenade in the back of the pickup as he drove through them, but he already rushed at the truck cab.

  He punched his thumb into the handle latch and the door clicked open. He jumped into the cab, slammed, and locked the door. He reached forward to twist the key and bring the big truck to life and found the ignition empty! Brett looked around the cab but could not find anything resembling the key anywhere. He remembered when he last saw the key but couldn’t remember if Uncle Tremper put it in his pocket or left it on a ring of keys still in the plane.

  Brett peered through the windshield blinking his eyes from rain dripping out of his hair. Uncle Tremper batted against two swords, spun, and lunged at the third assassin. His sword pierced its partly open mouth and blew through its spine. The creature fell back loosening its grip on its sword and the grenade. The other two assassins lurched forward with their swords striking into Uncle Tremper and severing his leg and back. He reached for the tumbling grenade but fuse timings on vampire grenades are faster than human grenades and detonate in a quick angry burst. Brett watched the buzz-saw flash of shrapnel and explosive fire fan out in bloody rings that kicked through Uncle Tremper and the two assassins. Those assassins fell apart and released their two grenades. The other two grenades blew more slicing rings through the rain and into the vampire bodies shredding them into bubbling red piles diluted by the falling rain. The fire that burst from the weapons flamed hot but the rain doused them quickly.

  The shrapnel carried out and sheared half the plane apart. It cut across the front of the truck removing the tip of the hood and the top third of the windshield and the whole top of the cab. The metal cap on the roof settled down like the lid of an opened tin can. Brett peeked his head above the dash and watched through the red mist that sprayed the rest of the cracked windshield until scrubbed away by the rain.

  Water sloshed through openings in the roof of the truck cab. Brett opened the cab door and it squeaked and ground against the bare cut edges of glass and steel. He walked to the remains of Uncle Tremper and searched for his pants pocket in the red ruin. The keys to the airplane as well as the truck came out of a shredded greasy pocket, jangling in his now shaking fingers. Brett looked at the plane and its complete state of demolition. He dropped the useless plane keys off the ring back onto Uncle Tremper’s bloodied shirt. Brett crushed the truck keys in his hand, “How are we going to finish this?”

  -:- Twenty-Two -:-

  I heard the raucous noise of vampires battling around me on the forest floor. The continuing thunder overhead. The abrupt shudders of the tree I clung to at every wind gust. Rain pouring down from the sky threatening to melt me off this tree branch and fall – through how many feet of mists before I struck the rocks and timber scattered at the feet of these giants? Among the horde of vampire assassins? The sharp stings of steel on steel wafted up through the rain. The solid thump of bodies thrown against tree trunks. Boulders bouncing against trees, smacking against other rocks, or rolling across soggy saplings. Shouts of anger, pain, and direction cut through the hard rain. Then Branoc and Garin appeared on the branch next to me. Blood covered them from their own wounds as well as our enemies. Their clothes rent in too many places, some of their wounds showed advanced healing through their clothing while other traumas still gaped wide, bloody, and flapped jaggedly. But they healed.

  “We’ve got to go.” Garin held his hand for me. I stood and reached for him. When my fingers touched his he snatched me to himself.

  “Where are your swords?”

  “Can’t use them now.”

  “What happened?”

  They leaped higher in the tree and launched from my tree to another nearby.

  Garin said, “Too many of them. Branoc saw them stream out of the building like an angry hornet’s nest. We held them off as much as we could and killed some but I don’t see what we can do other than run.”

  Garin and Branoc moved through the trees like giant squirrels leaping from branch tip to branch tip. I hung onto Garin but feared slipping off him in the rain and then feared he might not grip the tree branches well enough to avoid falling.

  But more, I feared the assassins I heard in the trees behind us and calling to each other on the floor of the forest. Athletic and nimble when made into vampires and tuned for killing over how many decades or centuries. How would we escape them? I heard more noise than I could imagine. A scary army of vampires chased us like a plague of locu
sts. How could we flee … and live? A few more jumps and I said, “They must think we’re really important, to send so many assassins.”

  “Yes. Or elusive.” Garin gripped the next branch.

  “We need to go back to the plant.”

  “Why? –”

  “You’re not a monkey. You’re faster on the ground.” Even though they are too. How can we make them think we keep going away when we return? “– Diversion. We need a diversion.”

  “– That might work.”

  “Can you throw a boulder in a pond?”

  Garin jumped closer to Branoc, “Anna has an idea. Follow me. And grab a big rock.” Garin dropped through the tree branches and we landed on the ground running. Garin ran over a small ridge and into a little cut at the shore of a rain pricked swamp dancing with duckweed as the rain pounded down. He pointed toward the water as we sped by, “Branoc throw the rock here in a high arc giving us more time to get away.”

  The cloud of vampire locusts chewing frantically toward us seemed louder.

  Branoc glanced at the swamp, “We need a longer start. Go that way.”

  We burst across the forest. Branoc scooped up a boulder and taking a turn threw the bolder as a Greek Olympian might throw a discus. The bolder spun through the air in a long graceful arc, cracking off smaller branches and cutting through the rain. We kept running, our speed increasing. Far off I heard the rock splash into the pond and the locust swarm diverted toward the water to investigate our possible fall from the trees.

  -:- -:- -:-

  “Looks clear.” Branoc said.

  “They must still be in the woods searching for us.” Garin said. “Think they found the car?”

  “Most certainly. Even hiding in wait around it hoping we try escaping that way.”

  “So you think this might work?” I said.

  “At least until they get settled down and back to some sort of routine. The hard part will be your hunger Anna.” Branoc said.

  “My hunger?”

  “You haven’t eaten in a while and we don’t have any provisions.” Branoc said. “Garin and I snacked while we fought.”

  “That’s convenient.” I felt nauseous though I knew they could do that.

  “Sometimes.” Garin said. Then, “Hey, I see a semi trailer going in. Let’s hitch a ride under it.”

  “Under?” I didn’t like that idea at all.

  “It’s easy, if you’re a vampire.” Branoc said standing to a crouch.

  Garin hung onto me and he and Branoc sprinted for the big truck slowing down to make the turn into the plant. We clung under the bottom of the trailer between two long C-channel beams running the length of the trailer, the steel sections deep enough to conceal us. The trailer rolled right inside the building. Now we needed to find a way off the trailer and into another part of the building without being seen. I thought for a few minutes that we might take such a trailer away from here. But the tractor unhitched and drove quickly out of the building. The shop door rattled closed. Workers switched off the lights in the bay. We waited in darkness for noises to quiet and be more likely we could disembark without notice.

  But through the quieting warehouse we heard the sounds of tires screeching, a racing motor, and a tremendous amount of crashing, banging, and clanging somewhere toward the center of the plant. Then silence returned to our shadows.

  “That is near the plastic bubble room. Think they had an equipment accident?”

  -:- Twenty-Three -:-

  Brett set his jaw and went back to the pickup. He climbed in and slammed the door. He stared out the window at the grisly rain drenched gore mixed with the grass while inserting the key and turning it. The engine puttered alive. He pressed into the accelerator and the motor responded with a gleeful roar that evened out into a steady hum. The gauges looked acceptable with no flashing warning lights. No way to tell if the radiator had been punctured, but not bad enough to mix alien green antifreeze fluid with the blood pooling under the truck. He tested the brake pedal and that seemed firm. He remembered the tires seemed to have survived the explosion.

  Brett reached up and pushed the roof free of the body and shoved it back into the cargo box. It crashed in there amongst the rain. This would be a wet ride. At least he had most of the badly cracked and jagged windshield to keep the stinging rain from his eyes.

  He pushed the clutch and shifted into gear. He spun the wheel around to move the truck clear of the bright crimson vampire debris dissolving into the vibrant chartreuse grass and accelerated. The slick greasy mud under the tires caused the truck to fishtail until he found the balance of steering and acceleration out to the street. The engine pounded the vehicle to speed on the road in a swirling mist.

  He quickly arrived at the house and pulled into the yard, backing the truck against the shed door. He went to the house. Shannon opened the door, looking passed him at the truck, “What happened? Where’s Uncle Tremper?” The kids milled around deeper in the house watching Brett soaked and dripping under the short stoop, the rain louder as it struck its metal roof.

  His shirt and jeans clung to his still shaking, cold frame. “Assassins followed the plane back to the airport. Uncle Tremper killed them but died. Some sort of vampire grenade that cut through them.”

  “Oh! –” Shannon said, putting her hands to her face. “Did any follow you from the airport?”

  “I don’t think so. But keep a watch. I have to finish Uncle Tremper’s project, without the plane.”

  Shannon knew what that meant. She stepped onto the porch and hugged Brett. “Be careful. Uncle Tremper told me what he thought they planned. They must be stopped.”

  “I know.” Brett turned and walked back through the rain into the shed.

  He pushed open the shed doors and dropped the truck tailgate. He backed the truck inside the shed until the rain only soaked the front half of the hood and turned the engine off. Climbing into the truck bed, he tossed the useless truck cab roof outside the shed.

  He knew he could never lift the bomb box designed for vampire strength. He unwrapped the belts and pried open the lid. The bomb still nestled tightly in the foam blocks. He’d have to roll the bomb being careful not to bang the end caps. But how to get it up to the back of the truck? The tailgate looked too flimsy to hold the dense weight of the bomb. The tailgate could be removed easily so he pushed it over the pins and unhooked the end cables to free the tailgate and balanced it across the top of the remaining cab. He found some landscape timbers stacked in the back of the shed that he dragged over and lined up in a ramp across the width of the truck.

  Brett located a metal ice spud and a piece of blocking to lever the bomb over in the box and onto the gravel floor. Then he worked rolling the cylinder forward. Do I really think I can roll this thing up that ramp? He knew he must. He worked at pushing that metal chunk full of explosives and shrapnel and electronics up the ramp. He rolled it carefully inch by inch. Straining his back and shoulders heaving it up. Soon he forgot about the rain, the chill, and the wet. His roller skating muscles he had strengthened this summer applied themselves to this new work of pushing and lifting and wrenching the steel assembly into the truck. Moment by moment he counted his hammering heartbeat. Straining at the edge of control and catastrophe, he pushed and lifted the thing. Finally, he got it to the top of the timbers and it rolled forward on its own. It hopped the eight inches to the truck bed with a thump!

  Brett reacted by falling back and landing on the gravel below the timbers but nothing could save him if the device went off here. Uncle Tremper’s words about designed for a ten foot drop thrust through his thoughts. He stood and removed the timbers stacking them in their previous place. Then decided he might want a pair in the truck to help block in the device and protect it on its journey.

  He rolled the device forward in the truck until it lay tight against the front of the cargo box, more worried about an abrupt stop than any other dynamic during travel. He wedged foam around it and lifted it slightly with the metal b
ar to wedge foam underneath keeping it more solidly stable. The two timbers fit at angles across the truck bed and a few other scraps of wood wedged things tight and stable. He put the tailgate back in to keep everything from rolling out.

  He looked up, seeing Shannon standing in the doorway holding an umbrella in one hand and a bowl of something steaming in the other. “I made the kids some chili. You might need something hot for the drive. There are some old coats and hats hanging in the stairwell that might fit you.”

  Brett took the chili finding the bowl comfortably hot, the smell irresistible, and an awakening hunger. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll get the coats.” Shannon paused as she turned. She saw the device sitting in the back of the truck. She wanted to inquire and know how Brett planned to unleash its destruction but realized she didn’t need to know nor really wanted to know. She scampered through the rain with the little umbrella back to the house. She returned and flopped the armful of coats onto the workbench, “They’re not fancy but they should keep the rain out.”

  “Thanks, these will help.” Brett finished tightly folding a scrap of a manila envelope he found on the workbench, “Give this to Anna, later. I originally thought I could wear my delivery company uniform and bring my clipboard with leftover shipping documents to get through their front gates. This truck will never pass for that now. I’ll have to improvise.”

  “It’ll work. Be careful with yourself.” She hugged him nearly too long and fled to the house.

  Brett finished the chili and thought about taking the empty bowl back to the house. Then decided that might be awkward so he left it on the workbench. He reached for the coats and layered one over the other buttoning them up. A baseball cap with a corn seed logo had been stuffed in the pocket of one. Brett adjusted the plastic tabs on the back of the hat so it gripped his head tight. He placed the metal bar in the back of the truck along with a pair of sledge hammers he found hanging on the wall between rusty sixteen penny nails driven into the wall boards. He really didn’t want to bring those hammers but he knew he couldn’t lift that device to fall the required ten feet. A vampire could do it but he did not have their strength and he did this alone. He searched the shed futilely for suitable weapons against the undead.