by Paul Cave
Ben pulled the rope tight, securing the makeshift crate to the right skid of the Huey. “That should do it,” he said. The small group stood back to examine their handiwork.
“Do you think it’ll hold?” Lieutenant Hutson asked.
“Sweetheart, that’ll hold King Kong,” Ben told her.
“King who?” she asked.
Tate shook her head. “Never mind, honey, but yeah, she’ll hold.”
“This plan of yours is madness,” Jacob commented.
The huge guy at his side disagreed. “Not insane, ingenious.”
“Yeah,” Nick agreed.
Hutson grinned. She had to admit, this strange band’s plan was indeed incredible and ingenious at the same time. “Jacob, we need the ride, and anyway we’ll still reach Ezekiel’s camp with time to spare, in this.” Her face was a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The object before her instilled fear and a sense of the unknown. What would it be like to fly? She tilted her head upwards and looked at the swollen clouds above, and her heartbeat quickened with the thought of being so close to the churning mass.
Ben read her anxiety. “Don’t worry. We’ll be staying well away from those.”
Hutson grinned nervously. “I’m not worried. Tate’s got my confidence.”
“Yeah, but it ain’t gonna be easy flying with only one leg,” Tate said. She turned to Jacob and gave him a reproachful look.
The tracker raised his hands.
Ben came to the rescue. “Honey, what if Jacob flies co-pilot, and if you need help operating the right pedal then he could do it.”
“Hang on a minute,” Jacob interjected nervously, “I know nothing about flying.”
Tate’s look of irritation turned to one of mild amusement. “Well, I hope you’re a quick learner.”
“I don’t think I can,” Jacob said. The thought of being so high had bleached his face white.
“Shee-yit,” Nick chimed, followed by a whistle, “found ourselves a goddamn pussy marine.”
Jacob’s jaw twitched. “Maybe you’d like to march through New York all by yourself?”
“Nope… ” Nick replied.
“Then I suggest you keep your wise-ass comments to yourself,” Jacob snarled. It seemed he’d only just got rid of one asshole, Banantyne, to be instantly confronted by another.
“Jeez… what did I say?” Nick moaned.
Ben stepped between the two men. “It’s about time we made tracks.” He turned towards the Buick, which was parked off at the side of the highway. “What are you gonna do with your… pet?”
Inside the Buick, Jacob could just about see the outline of the bound and gagged vampire. “Once we’ve finished in New York, I’m still following the original plan,” he replied, “so, I guess he’s coming with us.”
“Hell no,” Nick spat, “I ain’t breathing the same air as that thing. Don’t know what you’ll catch.”
The red light that revolved above their heads turned Jacob’s fangs blood-red. “Perhaps you’d like to test out our new crate?” he asked.
“Wait a minute,” Hutson said, “why don’t we put him inside the crate?” She looked towards the vehicle.
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Tate remarked.
“Yeah,” Ben agreed.
“Okay,” Jacob said, raising his weapon. “Let’s show … Pet his new home.”
Ten minutes later, the small group stood back from the crate, with the vampire held securely inside.
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Ben said.
“Perhaps,” Jacob conceded. “But it’s the only one I’ve got.”
“You should stay with us, after New York.”
Jacob placed his hand against the giant’s arm. “I can’t. I need to head north. Once we get The Ray of Hope, you should head to the underground I’ve told you about. Ask for a guy named Squirrel. He’ll help with the final stage.”
Ben huffed, “You’re a brave man, Jacob Cain. Fangs or no fangs, I wouldn’t like to spend ten seconds in the heart of their lair.” His woolly chin gestured towards the vampire bound inside the crate.
“If my plan works, then it should buy us enough time to get ready for whatever the vampires throw at us.”
“I guess,” Ben agreed.
“Hell,” Jacob began, “we haven’t gotten through New York, yet.”
Hutson read something unexpected in his eyes: fear. She twitched nervously. The thought of the man standing before her being genuinely scared frightened her to the core.
Jacob recognised her anxiety. “What is it, Lieutenant?”
“What’s waiting for us in New York?”
Jacob and Ben made eye contact. Both seemed reluctant to speak, as if adding a voice to their fears would somehow empower the thing that awaited them there.
Finally, Jacob said, “Hell, Lieutenant. That’s what’s waiting for us. Hell.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jacob Cain felt the cockpit tilt and he gripped onto the sides of the flight-seat. Through the communications of his helmet, he heard Captain Tate Williams laugh. The noise sounded tiny and distant, and not from the mere yard that separated them. He turned in her direction and watched in horror as the flight-stick dipped forwards. The nose of the Huey tipped towards the ground, pushing Jacob’s guts up into his chest. He gripped the chair for dear life, and another metallic crackle of laughter scratched at his ears. The desolate ground below sprang to life in a blur of hard shapes and threatening shadows.
“Enough okay. You’ve made your point,” Jacob said.
Instantly the helicopter straightened out.
“Like I said,” Tate began, “it ain’t easy flying this bird with just one leg.”
“How many times can a guy say he’s sorry?” he asked.
“I don’t know, I’m still counting,” Tate replied.
For the last two hours they’d been flying towards the heart of New York - Manhattan Island. There, they hoped to find what Ben called ‘The Ray of Hope’ - a single object that could turn the tide of battle when the vampires launched their inevitable attack.
Earlier that day, they had arrived at the abandoned town of Glen Eagle. It had taken a few nerve-racking minutes for Captain Tate to land the aircraft, twice having to pull up at the last minute due to Jacob’s ineptitude. On the third attempt, however, they got it right.
Disembarking, they quickly followed Lieutenant Hutson to the stockpile of weapons, hidden, surprisingly, in the ruins of a toy store. Moreover, like an over-eager child, Ben had scooped up an armful of pistols, rifles and even a M16 assault rifle, and had returned to the helicopter, his face beaming. Jacob had been close behind, his arms laden with canned food. They camped inside the Huey for a while, eating a banquet of beans and peaches. Delicious.
Without the need to operate the right rudder, Tate had taken effortlessly to the sky. As they left the deserted town, Jacob had chanced a look at the retreating streets and avenues. What he saw had sent a shiver down the length of his spine.
He saw countless shapes appear behind them, spilling from the deserted streets like liquid shadows. The lead figure looked to be twice the size of those that followed. And, even though he couldn’t see for sure, he imagined the beast in the fore wore a coat of peppered fur.
Jacob shuddered. The pack had traced his journey northward as far as Interstate 76, and then amazingly to Glen Eagle, even though he had not taken a single step by foot. He remembered the strange whisper of voices: Let it be… And, I am your saviour…
The town dwindled to just a tiny speck and the wolves became a dark, disturbing uncertainty. Yet, as they crossed over this subdued landscape, the tracker failed to shake the whispering ghosts that haunted his thoughts.
Let it be…
I am your saviour…
He concentrated again on the advancing horizon. He had the distinct feeling that he would find out soon, and when he did, he might wish he’d stayed ignorant.
A sudden tilt to the right pulled him away from
his thoughts. He looked out of the cockpit and found a huge body of dark water underneath them. The Hudson River was a still, lifeless mass of sluggish water. The Huey cut through the night, drawing its cargo closer to the heart of Manhattan. The streets below rushed by in a dark blur. The whole district of East Village appeared to be a ghost town and the once thriving suburb had now become a graveyard. The helicopter banked harder, and through the cockpit window Jacob watched the decay that had once been Washington Square Park rush by.
As the Huey levelled out, the tall buildings on either side embraced the aircraft in an alleyway of granite. The clatter of the rotor blades echoed along 5th Avenue like thunder. The downwash stirred debris up off sidewalks that hadn’t felt the footsteps of anything human in a long time.
Jacob checked his weapon, an M16 Assault Rifle. A tubular flashlight that still worked, amazingly, hung underneath the barrel like a large, fat slug. His pockets bulged with spare ammo clips. The toy store had yielded many playthings. He lifted the rifle and peered into the scope. The infrared detection system failed to pick out anything that beat with life. The weapon dropped back into his lap. “I still think this is a bad idea,” he said.
Tate responded, “Trust me. It’ll make things easier in the long run.”
Jacob shook his head, but the oversized helmet smothered the gesture. He hoped this was going to be anything but long. “Why don’t we just land out of the way and sneak through town?”
“We’ve tried that already”
“What do you mean?”
Tate’s chest tightened.
“What is it?” he asked.
“This isn’t our first attempt at recovering The Ray of Hope,” she confessed.
“Really?” Jacob said. “How many times?”
He received a long hiss of silence before the answer found its way. “Three… ”
“What?”
“We’ve failed twice already,” she admitted.
“Great… ” Jacob moaned. Then, he understood that their mission could already have been compromised. “What if The Ray of Hope’s been moved, or destroyed even?”
A chuckle of tinny laughter tickled his ears. “Jacob, have you any idea where it is?”
“No… ”
“There,” she said, and her gloved hand pointed towards the black sky above.
A dark colossus loomed over them, stretching far into the sky, almost tearing the clouds in two at its summit. Thousands of tons of glass, stone, iron, and man’s sweat rose from the lifeless streets in a magnificent tower. The sheer size of the construction filled Jacob Cain with childlike awe. Before him, rising out of the dark skyline of New York, stood The Empire State Building.
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked.
Tate glided down 5th Avenue, eventually stopping a hundred yards away from the building’s foreboding entrance. The Huey hovered meters above the deserted street.
“Okay, Jacob, this time I want a smooth landing, first attempt,” Tate said, lifting her visor.
Jacob turned to her and saw her eyes glint with fear.
“Bring us in closer,” he ordered.
“No, this is as far as I dare get,” Tate said.
“Come on Tate, give us a chance,” he appealed.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” She nodded towards the dark base of the tower, “The airflow found at the base of the building would send us spinning uncontrollably.”
He looked towards the dark avenue. Debris spun and whirled about, small demented tornados made from litter, which careered across one side of 5th Avenue to the next.
“Okay,” he agreed, “here will do just fine.”
Tate eased off the throttle and the helicopter dipped slightly. “Okay, she’s all yours.”
Jacob positioned his foot over the right rudder, and then, as if trying to step on an eggshell, but not crack it, he pressed down gently. The Huey dropped gracefully to the black tarmac. The second the skids touched down, Tate throttled back and the rotors above roared with power. With its rotors pitched downwards, the Huey was pinned to the ground by the direction of the airflow, and as Tate increased the speed of the blades, the noise of the engine deafened them.
Tate looked over her instrument panel, scanning the surrounding buildings. Jacob understood her fear. He followed her line of sight, examining the gaping entrances and shattered windows of the buildings around them. At first, they were pitch-black. But then small holes began to burn through the darkness. Blinking to life in groups of two. Hundreds of crystalline eyes appeared among the shadows, narrowing into tight slits as they looked malevolently upon the arrival of prey.
In the next instant, Hell opened its gates.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ezekiel raised his arms and the mob before him fell into silence. The dais he was standing on had become the centre of attention. He looked from one eager expression to the next. They all looked expectant. At the lip of the platform sat the young boy. His eyes looked puffy and their corners were clogged with the residue of sleep. He had been awakened prematurely. This meeting had been called without delay.
Standing at the front of the assembly were some of Ezekiel’s trusted lieutenants. The huge figure of Thalamus split the front row apart, his massive shoulders the width of two vampires. His dark hair hung in long, interwoven dreadlocks from which protruded bones, turning it into a mane of white scales. Like the man standing before him, Thalamus had risen from the brutal ghettos of the inner city; and together, he and Ezekiel had ascended from degradation to become leaders of this new world.
Flanking the towering Thalamus were Brothers Trask and Franklin. Barely reaching as high as Thalamus’s chest, Trask had a disposition that would have looked more at home in a suit and tie, rather than the plated armour that decorated his ample bulk. Once, in a life almost forgotten, he’d served an administration corrupt with greed, operating in the field of intelligence. Now, he was servant to the man before him and the thirst that ran through his veins. His round face looked almost childlike with its ruddy cheeks and red pout. Only when he smiled to expose sharp fangs did his true identity disclose itself.
Brother Franklin was the complete opposite: thin to the point of emaciation, with sharply angular features and a pair of grey, lifeless eyes. These terrible orbs only twinkled with the hint of life when he indulged in some act of brutality. For, Franklin was servant not only to Ezekiel and the bloodlust, but also to pain and suffering, the pain and suffering of others. Before night fell on this world, he worked in a slaughterhouse packing meat, but the darkness had revealed his true nature, and now he had become a butcher of innocents.
Lieutenants Isaac and Jeremiah stood off to the right, chatting anxiously; and Bara and three of her higher-ranking officers filled in on the left. The rest of the group consisted of soldiers of rank or figures of prominence.
“Brothers,” Ezekiel called, silencing the murmur.
At once the gathering fell quiet.
“Brothers, our time of battle is near. The humans’ hideout has been located, and we move to intercept soon!”
A difference of opinion split the group. Some expressed an eagerness to begin, others counselled caution.
“What are we waiting for?” an agitated voice asked.
Ezekiel didn’t need to search out the speaker’s face. “Bara, your insatiable appetite may be the cause of our demise.”
The jailer’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“That your vile tongue has already led to the near-extinction of man. Had we offered more restraint, then our situation might have been more prosperous.”
Isaac’s lust for command got the better of him. “How much prosperity do you need?”
Ezekiel’s eyes bored into the lieutenant. “Brother Isaac, do not confuse prosperity with profligacy. Do you want a guise like hers?” His finger sought out the female jailer. “Look what prosperity has done to her. She’s become a fat, bloated ogre, who knows nothing of moderation or self-discipline.”
Bara hissed in the group’s direction, “This fool leads us only to starvation!”
An audible gasp sounded.
“Bara, do you think you could lead us to deliverance?” Ezekiel asked.
“Yes!” she said, her bloated face indignant.
Ezekiel smiled with an exaggerated look of pity. “How?”
“With these,” Bara said. She turned to the nearest soldier and withdrew the firearm from his hip. Before anyone could react, she stepped closer and trained the weapon on Ezekiel. Instantly, Thalamus stepped between her and the vampire leader. And, even though the young boy at the foot of the dais had being paying scant attention, he too jumped to his feet. “Danger! Danger!” his young lips cried.
Ezekiel stepped down from the platform. He laid his hand on the young boy’s head, patting him gently. “Good boy,” he said, calming the boy’s unease. “Brother Thalamus, let her speak.” The huge vampire sidestepped, allowing the ogre to pass. The gun levelled towards Ezekiel’s head. He didn’t flinch, for he had no fear of the woman before him. She had always had passion, once towards the very man she now threatened, and Ezekiel knew her anger was directed at him because of what they had lost personally, rather than his capacity to lead.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Ezekiel thought. How true.
“What’s on your mind, my dear Bara?” he asked.
The gun wavered. His words had sounded like sweet music to her ears. She opened her mouth, but her spurt of venom had received a temporary antidote. Her resolve quickly returned, however, “I’ve had enough of your games. We will take the humans’ lair with or without you in command.”
“And how will you take these humans that are so rightfully yours?”
“With this and hundreds like it,” she replied, showing the assembly the weapon in her hand. “What are we but an army?”
“Good! Then I shall step back and allow you to continue.” Wearily, Ezekiel stepped onto the dais and returned to the table. He sat heavily, beaten.