Human Revolt 02 - Vampire LA

by Phil Tucker

  They studied each other. The reporter’s face was gaunt, her eyes red, her lips pressed into a thin line. A rash of fresh puncture wounds lined the side of her neck, raw and inflamed. Somehow she still managed to look beautiful, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, her raw grief and fear only emphasizing the fragility of her cheekbones, the thin arches of her brows.

  “What?” Selah couldn’t take it anymore. “I can’t hurt you. I’m chained here like an animal.”

  “I,” said Fernanda, voice faint, and stepped to one side, back against the wall, and into the corner. “I’ve got to interview you.”

  “Interview me? Are you kidding?”

  Fernanda shook her head. “No. Arachne wants it. A confession. You have to pretend to be her.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “It doesn’t matter if you do. Michael can—I mean, I can edit it. Make it seem as if you did.” Her voice had grown increasingly faint.

  “Michael. Where is he?” Fernanda looked away. “He’s dead? Did he die? Did they kill him?” Fernanda remained pressed against the wall, trembling, her jaw clenching and unclenching. With great effort, Selah reined in her fury. From the very depth of her being, she fought for a softer tone of voice. “What happened?”

  Fernanda sank onto her heels and set the camera on the floor. “They killed him, after. When Louis—when Louis abandoned us at Huntington. So many lies. Arachne’s vampires showed up. We tried to tell them we were the press, that we didn’t want trouble, but—but—”

  Fernanda’s eyes brimmed with tears and Selah watched her fight for control. She took a sudden, deep gasp of air and blinked rapidly, gritting her teeth and taking up the camera. “So, please, can we film this? Please?”

  “Fernanda. Wait.” Selah thought quickly. “Do you have an Omni?” Fernanda shook her head. “OK, look. You need to escape. Are they watching you closely?”

  Fernanda hesitated, and then shook her head. “Not really. I thought they had forgotten about me until this.”

  “Good. Perfect. There’s an Omni down in Theo’s car. It’s parked at the base of the Observatory, the first street you hit if you go straight down and to the houses. You need to get to it. You need to call Chico.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Listen to me. The vampires are planning something. I don’t know what, but it’s going to be big. Everything is going to change.” Selah felt acute frustration arise within her. She needed more details. More facts. “I don’t know what, exactly, but Arachne’s behind it. She said there was one last shipment of Blood Dust going out. She’s giving me to the military to buy time. You have to warn Chico. Tell him to talk to his people in government and warn everybody.”

  “What is it? What’s going to happen?” Fernanda’s voice was wild, nearly panicked. She was under too much strain already.

  “I don’t know. But listen to me. Stop, just calm down for a second. Once you get them this interview, they’ll probably ignore you for a bit. Do they lock you up?” Fernanda shook her head. “What about Cloud? Is he locked up?” Fernanda nodded. Hope dimmed within Selah’s breast. “Under guard?” Fernanda hesitated, and then shook her head. “OK. Try to grab him. He’ll help you get out. Tell him what I told you, and escape. Get to the car. Call Chico. Tell him what I told you, and then drive to the Wall and get out.”

  “But what? What am I telling him?”

  “Within the week. The vampire’s are going to make a play. They’ve been selling the Blood Dust just to bribe the military into looking the other way. To lower their guard. I think the vampires here in LA are going to break the Treaty.”

  Fernanda stared at Selah as if she were speaking gibberish. She shook her head again. “That’s crazy.”

  “No, it’s not,” Selah said. “I’m telling you what I’ve heard. You need to do this.”

  “They’ll kill me.”

  “They’re probably going to kill you, anyway.” Fernanda’s face turned even paler. “So don’t wait for them! Act! You have to.”

  Fernanda dug the base of her palms into her eyes, shook her head, and exhaled shakily. “OK. All right.” She dropped her hands. “What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll do it. I can’t promise I’ll be able to get Cloud. First street. Is the car locked?”

  “Break the window. You just need the Omni.”

  “Okay. Oh god. Okay.” A final deep breath, and then she nodded, picked up the camera, and aimed it at Selah. “Are you ready?” She thumbed on the recording switch, activating a small red light. “This is Fernanda Ribeira. I’m here with the vampire Arachne, who is going to confess to killing Colonel Caldwell.”

  Selah stared at the lens. She felt nothing. Nothing at all. She lifted her chin, and began to talk.

  Chapter Twenty One

  They came for her an hour later. Two vampires she didn’t recognize, one so large he had to turn sideways to slip in through the door, the second shorter, slender, and looking like a clever fox. They ignored her questions, and the larger vampire hit her so hard that the world spun away. By the time she pulled herself back together she’d been hauled to her feet, and her wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles had been bound once more. They dragged her out of the room, through a lobby area and up a flight of stairs. Dizzy and nauseous as she was, Selah couldn’t focus on much. She received an impression of great doors behind them, a large atrium with painted murals high overhead, and a well around which they walked before stepping outside into the night air.

  The military was parked outside all over the grass. Four Humvees and a truck. Their high beams were on, and Selah was dragged out into their ghastly brightness. She didn’t even try to resist. What was the point? Freedom to fall on the ground and writhe in her chains? So she relaxed and allowed them to dump her at the feet of a group of soldiers.

  “There she is. All yours. With sincere apologies from the rest of the vampires in LA.” The fox spoke smoothly, almost mockingly, and sketched an amused bow to the tense men.

  Their leader was a tall, sour man, his face pulled into a disapproving frown. He looked down at her as if from a great height, chewing slowly with his mouth open as he examined her. “So this is Arachne.” It wasn’t a question. He shook his head. “Not so tough now, huh?”

  Selah looked back up at him. The world seemed unreal, the vastness of the night sky impossibly distant beyond the glare of the headlights, the circle of harsh, unfriendly faces looking down at her. She felt impotent, furious, resigned. Arachne had been right. What point was there in protesting her innocence? It would sound absurd.

  “All right. Good.” The leader—was he a general?—looked to the vampires. “This should help calm things down. We’ll be in touch.”

  “Of course,” said the fox. His smile was anything but pleasant. “Do you need help getting her into the truck? Be careful, she bites.”

  The general arched an eyebrow with disdain. “No, we’ll take it from here. Hendricks, Danforth.”

  Two soldiers reached down gingerly for Selah’s arms. They hesitated, and then lifted her easily. She hung limp, mind spinning furiously. What could she do? They dragged her across the grass toward the truck, a number of other men keeping pace, guns trained on her. They brought her around the back and then hauled her up into it. It was lit from within by a dome light, and she was strapped her down onto a stretcher, band after band of black straps looped around her until she was nearly mummified.

  Selah tuned out. The truck rumbled to life. The soldiers sat on benches that ran down the length of each side of the truck, guns held ready, muzzles pointed at the ground. Somebody closed the back doors, and they pulled away.

  Selah allowed her mind to drift. Something huge was going to happen, but what? That British courier had told Colonel Caldwell that there was only a one more shipment of Blood Dust coming. Arachne had confirmed that some sort of plans were in the works, that this was the last week. That Selah had set them free with Sawiskera’s death. Free from what? His oversight? Theo had been set free
of his bond when he had drunk of Selah’s blood, which had allowed him to help her kill Sawiskera. Had all the vampires broken free of a similar bond with his death? Or were they simply free of his oversight? Were they planning to break the Treaty? But they’d failed to win the last war. How could they plan to win this one? Was it related to the Blood Dust? If so, how? Selah lay still, eyes closed, the straps holding her so tight she didn’t even roll or jostle with the movements of the truck.

  They drove down a series of long, winding roads. The silence was oppressive, each soldier watching her as if expecting her to sprout fangs and burst her straps. Selah examined the ceiling. She should be feeling terrified, should be feeling a desperate desire to fight, to live, but she couldn’t muster much more than resignation. She had been fighting for too long, against odds that were simply too steep. If this was to be it, then that was fine.

  In the distance she heard the sound of a helicopter approaching. No doubt an Army chopper come to shadow them and light the way through the dark streets. The men glanced at each other. Selah felt a pinprick of curiosity. Not an Army chopper? She heard a faint whine that rapidly grew louder and then the driver slammed on the brakes and the truck swerved violently to the side. An explosion rocked the truck, causing men to cry out as it bucked up onto its two side wheels and came crashing back down. Soldiers seated around her grabbed onto hanging straps to keep from falling all over the place, and somewhere someone began screaming commands.

  The back door was thrown open and the men piled out. Selah lifted her head and looked down the length of her body, parting her feet to see out into the street beyond. The Humvee behind them had come to a stop, swerved to one side, and the soldiers were moving to stand behind it, pointing their rifles over its side as they began to unload ammunition into whatever was approaching. Selah had no idea who it could be: Theo? Louis? She had no idea.

  She fought the straps. Really fought them. Strained, flexing her core with all her strength until it felt like live filaments of flame were running down her stomach, tearing free of her ribs. She heard the metal of the stretcher groan, creak, and she rose an inch, then a second. Unable to hold on any longer, her breath exploded forth and she fell back.

  A second explosion sounded, and a wave of heat and raw sound rolled into the truck, searing her face and causing her ears to ring. Selah looked up once more and saw that the Humvee outside the door had been hit, was now a burned-out shell, flames licking up into the sky along with roiling black smoke, men lying on the ground, faces burned and scalded, bodies wrecked and tossed about as if by some giant, horrific child. More screams, and then a third explosion. Gunfire chattered into the night, and the scudding copter fell away. Even over the yells and the pain in her ears she heard the chopper crash into the ground somewhere close by, the furious whack whack whack of its rotor blades smashing themselves into oblivion against the road. Selah shook within her constraints, fought them once more. She wouldn’t simply lie here.

  She would not.

  Selah clenched her jaw again, and fought to sit up. There was more give this time; the stretcher groaned in protest as she rose once more, an inch, two, three. Selah felt a scream tear itself from deep within her, torn out as if by a rusted metal scraper, and with a snap the metal struts gave and she sat up, the straps tight around her waist, shoulders and neck, pinning her arms to her side.

  Someone came running up to the back of the truck, skirting around the burning Humvee. Short and powerfully built, he came right up to the doors and stopped, turning to fire his assault rifle off to the left. The sound was awful, cacophonous, and then he reached up for the top of the truck and hauled himself inside.

  Armando. Selah stared at him in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Saving your black ass,” he said, moving forward and drawing a knife from his side. “Don’t thank me. Chico put me up to it.”

  “Chico? What?” Selah winced as he slid his Rambo knife between her shoulder and the strap. “The Locos? But what about your turf?”

  “Whatever, yo.” He sawed at the synthetic material, glancing back over his shoulder as he did so. “Gone. Machado heard from the real Arachne. That’s over.” The first of the straps fell away and he began to unwind it from around her.

  “But … but how?”

  Armando savagely cut at another strap. “Diablos, mujer! You need to talk all the damn time?”

  Movement. Selah looked past Armando and saw a soldier step into view, gun raised. She screamed, but the man opened fire before Armando could turn. His body spasmed as several rounds hit him, punching right through his body. Blood splattered across Selah’s face, and she felt several of the rounds slam into her. Selah looked down at her chest and stomach. Bullet holes were sprayed across her, welling black blood as thick as tar. The pain was dull, distant. She shook an arm free of the last strap, and touched a bullet hole right over her heart.

  Armando collapsed onto her stretcher, and then rolled off it to the ground. The soldier simply stood there, watching as she fingered a bullet hole, then a second. He was young, and his eyes were wide with disbelief. Shock. Selah looked down at herself again. She felt as if she were watching from afar, hovering over her body. One, two, three—six bullet holes. Yet she didn’t feel the pain. Didn’t feel herself convulsing. Didn’t feel anything more than anger that was rapidly conflagrated into fury.

  Selah moved. She tore the last of the straps from her, swung her legs over the side of the stretcher, and leaped at the soldier. He’d backed up a step. He never got to take a second.

  She was upon him before the decision to attack was fully formed. Leaped straight out of the truck and onto his chest, riding him down to the ground. Before he could scream, she broke his neck with a savage twist, and then rose to her feet, his assault rifle in hand. It was as light as a toy gun. The fire and heat coming off the blasted Humvee was intense, but after the burn of the Blood Dust it felt like little more than a warm glow.

  More gunfire. Selah looked around. A handful of soldiers were crouched her left, firing sporadic bursts beyond at a handful of cars pulled up behind them perhaps twenty yards away. Selah opened fire on them from the hip, leaning back and keeping the trigger down, feeling the gun buck and shake in her hands, the recoil wanting to twist it away from the men, but she held it firmly. The soldiers fell apart, collapsing to the ground in a spray of bullets, shattered asphalt, and blood. The assault rifle’s clip emptied and Selah threw the gun away. No thought. No feeling. No emotion. She turned and hiked herself back up into the truck.

  She knelt by Armando. His powerful body was as light as a child’s. Blood slicked the truck’s floor, thick and warm, soaking into Selah’s jeans. It smelled intoxicating. She cradled his head. His eyes were half open, and he was shivering. “Armando,” she said, but he didn’t respond. He was making a strange clicking sound, as if a little machine were broken in his throat. There was no way to help him. She held him until his shivering stopped, and then closed his eyes. Lay his head back down on the floor, and looked at his face as it went slack. He’d come for her. Had saved her, at the expense of his own life. Why?

  More gunfire. Selah looked at her hand. It was black with his blood. The tang of blood filled the truck, the air, so that it felt she was drinking it in through her nose, the taste coating the back of her throat. Selah brought her fingers to her lips and licked their tips. The blood was hot, electric, enthralling. She shuddered, the sensation running from the tip of her tongue right down to her core, and snatched her hand away as if burned. The urge to lower her face to the floor and lap up the blood like a cat was overwhelming. She knelt, paralyzed. Fought with herself. Touched her tongue tentatively to her teeth, and realized that her canines had grown sharper, a little longer. It was happening.

  Selah jumped to her feet and staggered back. Looked down at herself, at the bullet holes. They were closing. With a breathless scream Selah leaped out the back of the truck. She wanted to run, to sprint, to escape herself. To flee the d
ark power that was healing her, mending her body. She stopped. There was nowhere to run. She stared at the Humvee where it burned before her, and then was knocked violently off her feet as something within it blew, her body slamming into and bouncing off the truck’s bumper, sending her crashing down to the ground. An impact that would have killed her but a few days ago. Meteoric shards of the Humvee lit up the night, trailing sparks and smoke as they sailed through the sky.

  Selah stood up. She wasn’t even stunned. She examined herself once more. The bullet holes were gone. She touched the skin. Smooth. Pressed down hard, felt no pain, but deep within her she could feel the bullets. They were lodged within her. She looked up at the sky, at the stars and moon, barely visible through the columns of smoke. This was it. She was finally becoming a vampire. The thought, the fact, emblazoned itself across her mind, branded into the very fabric of her being.

  Selah rounded the truck. A group of soldiers were huddled behind the last Humvee, their backs to her, facing a second blockade of cars. The second Humvee next to it was a flaming wreck, hit by whatever the helicopter had fired at the other. She didn’t have a weapon, but she didn’t need one. She was the weapon now. She walked toward them, making no attempt to hide. One of the soldiers ducked down to reload and saw her. He screamed a warning. Two others turned, whipped their rifles around, and opened fire.

  They never had a chance. For the first time she felt the true might of Sawiskera, the first moment when his ancient evil had full access to the world through her. She simply moved aside. She was amongst them even as they opened fire, and they fell and died around her. She wasn’t even aware of what she did to them, but they collapsed, bones shattered, necks broken. Within a moment they were all dead. Silence. Some hesitant gunfire from the cars beyond stopped, and then Selah leaped atop the Humvee, her body backlit by the other burning hulk.