by Paul Cave
“Are you okay, honey?” Hannah asked the young girl.
She nodded faintly. “Just a little sick, that’s all.”
Hannah wasn’t sure if the girl meant from the ride or the whisperings about the northern prisoners’ fate. She didn’t push the matter. Already, dreadful rumours of a mass banquet had begun to filter through the camp, from one prisoner to the next, and those remaining could only offer a prayer that the culling had been swift and merciful.
Suddenly, and without warning, a warm glow spread from the pit of Hannah’s stomach. The unexpected feeling caused her to gasp. It was not painful or uncomfortable but … pleasant.
He was close.
Very close.
She closed her eyes and allowed the sensation to grow. It swelled from her stomach to her chest, and her heart quivered with the effect. She tried to imagine what he would look like now, five years after they had taken him. Would he look like his father? Yes, she thought, surely he would. He would be six soon and a handsome young boy, and should have been close friends with fun and laughter, not a companion of the bastard that ruled the army of undead.
The truck moved on and the strange sensation dwindled slightly. She held onto it though, the feeling of love returning to her very core – a private treasure that could not be taken away from her captors.
No matter what.
***
Bara’s bloated face peered intently through the windshield. Most of the soldiers ahead had disappeared into the shadows of the woodlands. Forced to take the long road, the convoy of trucks had pulled away from the main body of soldiers and moved onto the deserted highway. A swarm of jeeps buzzed about them, acting as an escort; most were armed with fixed machineguns or other weapons of destruction.
Bara turned to the driver, her face a ghastly full moon of swollen flesh. “Step on it,” she ordered.
The driver pulled his eyes away from the road for a second. “We’re to maintain formation,” he responded. He twitched nervously and cursed his luck for being assigned to this transport.
“To hell with our orders,” Bara spat. “Step on it.”
The driver sighed. He pressed down on the gas and the rig roared with approval. Their surroundings became a sudden blur of darkness as they accelerated away from the main convoy.
Bara forced her ample frame into the back of her seat. She grinned, and the gesture was anything but pleasant. Her thoughts turned towards the ensuing confrontation. To hell with Ezekiel and his foolhardy alliance! She had plans of her own – plans that did not involve freedom or friendship or forgiveness.
Just one thing.
Pain and suffering.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
At last, the wheel cleared the ramp and Ben was able to push The Ray of Hope into the crate. He snatched up a length of rope and tethered the searchlight to the sides of the crate, holding it in the centre. Quickly crossing the platform he stopped at the coil of cable that Hutson had lost. He paid little attention to the weight of the thing, just scooped it up as if it were nothing and then raced back to the crate. There, he threw the cable inside, then lifted the ramp and secured the crate.
He stood back and looked up.
Black Bird hovered above. Through the glass cockpit, Ben could see Tate struggling with the flight-stick. The constant swirl of changing wind was making it almost impossible for Tate to hold the Huey steady.
A powerful gust swept across the observation deck, pushing Ben towards the balcony’s railings and casting Black Bird out into darkness with violent disregard. The helicopter reappeared instantly, Tate forcing the controls of the Huey to counter the turbulent airflow.
The rotors clattered noisily, adding to the already deafening pitch. Rotor-blades cut through the darkness and Tate was forced to use all of her skill to remain above Ben’s head. A rope with a hook attached dropped down and stopped inches above his head. Taking it, he clambered on top of the crate and hooked the cantilever into place. He double-checked its strength. He gave Tate a signal and another length of rope fell from the Huey. Ben had just enough time to jump back before a rope ladder uncoiled before him. It snapped from left to right with the same fury as an angry snake. He reached out, his intention to take it, when the ladder flicked backwards, battering against the underside of the hull. He understood instantly why they had been forced to climb 86 levels instead of being dropped off onto the observation deck. Even the smallest gust could have ripped them from the ladder, sending them spinning to their deaths.
Unexpectedly, from behind, a hollow boom of wood sounded. Ben spun round in time to see the access doorway swing outwards.
Vampires.
Lots of them.
He stepped closer and heard their wicked chatter from the dark landing. The Browning caught his eye, a dull gleam of metal and mayhem. He retrieved the powerful machinegun and returned to the door. Time for a bit of payback, he thought. About twenty rounds remained. Make them all count, he told himself. In the next instant the open doorway became a mass of squirming bodies. About six vampires swarmed through the opening. They tried to scatter, but Ben gunned them down before they had chance to clear the entrance. Another wave came and another wave fell to the platform writhing in agony, their limbs torn off or holes the size of fists punched through them.
“Yeah …” Ben whooped. “Rain dance!”
They fell over themselves, first to get at Ben, then to escape from the pain he bestowed upon them. The assault was short-lived. Almost as quickly as it had started the sound of gunfire ceased. The firing-pin hit an empty slot. Clunk! The ammo-belt was spent. An eerie silence followed. Then a vampire poked its head round the door. Two more heads appeared and their jaws spilt wide. They sensed the attack had ended so stepped out one by one.
Ben gave them his best snarl. He roared with the passion of a lion, and then threw the weapon at them. Wasting no time, he spun around, sprinted for the rope-ladder and then launched himself towards it.
In the next instant he was airborne.
***
The beast had slowed. The crisscross of girders had gotten narrower. Jacob slipped between two bars and fixed himself to the face of the lightning rod. This high up the wind tried to prize him free with icy fingers. He held on tight and continued to climb. With more space and manoeuvrability on the outside, he made better progress, reducing the distance between him and Hutson by nearly half.
The creature found itself wedged within the metalwork. It grunted and looked down. Its head shook angrily as it roared with disapproval. Jacob continued to follow. Still clutching Hutson under one arm, it swung onto the outside of the rod and then began to climb towards the summit.
Jacob watched as the beast scaled higher. He had to try and stop it from reaching the top. Better to keep it lower and confined between the girders. He slipped the rifle off his shoulder. Then took aim. He fired a shot three or four feet above the beast’s head. It stopped dead. He fired again, this time risking a closer shot. The bullet sung off the beam inches above its head. Jacob seized his chance. The thing was plenty big enough for him to get a direct hit, but he didn’t dare shoot it for fear of the lieutenant being dropped.
The tracker pulled the rifle tighter into his shoulder. He focused through the scope and trained the crosshairs onto one of the animal’s ears. The wind raged and he felt the end of the barrel waver slightly. Quickly, he calculated an allowance for the strength of the wind and the distance to his target. The muzzle shifted to the left and upwards slightly. Jacob’s calculation and skill were perfect: the bullet ripped away a chunk of black flesh.
Terrified now, the creature swung back inside the lightning rod. Unable to climb higher the beast sat there for a moment, confused. Then it pulled the lieutenant free and forced her to take hold of the metalwork. She held on for dear life. Feet that were more versatile than any human hand held the thing steady. It roared at the man below before beating out a warning against its chest.
Jacob roared back. “LIEUTENANT, ON MY MARK,” he yelle
d. He saw her shake her head. “HUTSON, CLIMB UP TO THE TOP. AS FAST AS YOU CAN.”
Again she shook her head.
Fear had riveted her to the girder.
The tracker climbed a few feet higher. “KATE,” he boomed. “YOU’VE GOT TO GO. I’LL KEEP YOU SAFE. I PROMISE.”
Her eyes fixed on his. From somewhere she tapped into a hidden reserve of courage, finding the strength to nod her head.
“OKAY.”
“GOOD GIRL,” Jacob called. “NOW, ON MY MARK.” He flicked the M16 to automatic and rested it against a horizontal strut.
“GO!” he ordered.
Hutson exploded into action. She sprang upwards and reached for a beam above her. Her fingers wrapped around cool iron. She kicked out with her feet and folded her stomach in half. The momentum carried her out into the night. The beast snatched at the trail of her hair, but a rain of bullets blocked its attack. Hutson’s legs swung upwards, above her head, and she somersaulted over before finishing half-balanced on the beam, the metal cutting across her waist. She threw her leg out and climbed up onto the flat strut.
“GO! GO!” she heard Jacob chant.
She did exactly that.
Jacob watched as she quickly climbed through the centre of the lightning rod. He took a step lower and the beast followed. Its attention firmly fixed to him now. It swung down, quickly reducing the distance between itself and the small irritation below. A blast of air pressed hard against Jacob’s back. He tried to pull himself away, but the invisible hand held him fast. Twisting around, he found the dark outline of Black Bird just above. The rope-ladder dangled tantalisingly close. Tate and Jacob made eye contact. Her visor was up and her eyes looked full of fear and anxiety.
One gloved thumb jabbed upwards.
Jacob nodded. He understood what needed to be done. The rotors were already mere inches away from the metalwork. Tate had steered the Huey as close as she could. The ladder was still too far away. He gave her the thumbs-up and Black Bird tore away, disappearing into the darkness above.
He pushed himself out and looked up. The rod vibrated violently as the beast descended. It was coming fast, rage pushing it on. Jacob checked his weapon. He’d already spent over half the magazine. He flicked it over to single-fire and held his ground, and his breath.
Jacob held his position right up until the last second. The thing landed on the girder just above his head. A deafening toll rang out. The dull ring capitulated to the sharp crack of gunfire. The M16 recoiled against the tracker’s shoulder. In a shower of red gore, a huge chunk of flesh ripped away from the beast’s shoulder. Jacob wasted no time. He ducked inside the metalwork and jumped across open space.
***
Hutson’s vision was reduced to less than two feet. The metal tower had punched through the clouds and a thick swirl of dust made it difficult for her to breathe. Nevertheless, she pulled herself higher, the fear of the beast driving her on. The rod reduced in width and eventually she was forced to climb on the outside, now finally reaching its summit.
The dust parted, as if the sky itself had sighed heavily, and Black Bird appeared like some huge, majestic beast. The Huey dropped closer and the rope-ladder dangled just above Hutson’s head. Looking higher, she saw Ben gesturing urgently towards the ladder. He opened his mouth and spoke, but the words were drowned out by the thunderous clatter of rotor-blades. Still, she understood their meaning. She reached up and her hand found the first rung of the ladder. Her hands climbed higher, rung by rung, until her foot stepped onto the ladder. Ben reached out, taking her by the wrist. Then, as if she weighed no more than a child, he pulled her effortlessly into the safety of the cabin.
***
Jacob landed heavily on the opposite side of the lightning rod. He felt the assault rifle slip from his grasp. Gravity and fate conspired against him, and the weapon pulled itself free from his hand. For a second he watched hopelessly as it bounced and clattered its way to the base of the tower. Then a triumphant roar pulled his attention back to the beast before him. Its jaws opened and four huge canines snapped together. A swipe of its hand almost took Jacob’s head from his shoulders. The tracker jolted back, the attack missed, barely, and the tower rang out as his head connected with it like the hammer of a bell. Bright stars burst before his eyes. He kicked out blindly and his boot met something soft. His vision returned and he found the beast clutching between its legs.
The thing’s head shook violently. It roared in a fit of anger.
“No hard feelings?” Jacob asked, hopefully.
The beast responded by snapping its jaws an inch from his face.
“Guess not.”
He reached up, ready to pull himself higher. It mirrored his movements. He stepped lower and again his actions were shadowed. Now understanding its prey was trapped, the beast struck. It launched itself through the air towards him. Jacob did the one thing he could. He pulled in his cheeks, drew a mouthful of phlegm, and then spat out. The globule of spit arced out and met the beast halfway. The saliva spattered into the thing’s eye. And there it felt like liquid fire as it burnt at the tender orb. Landing on Jacob’s side, the beast trapped him in a blind embrace. Jacob’s knee shot upwards and he caught it in the groin for a second time.
Teeth smashed down at the side of his head. They connected with solid iron and one tooth shattered in an explosion of bone. Tiny fragments stung at the side of Jacob’s head. Seizing his chance, he folded in on himself and slipped backwards, through the crisscross of girders. Something dangled at the corner of his eye. He turned to find the rope-ladder hanging near. From behind, the beast roared with pure hatred.
“Fuck this,” Jacob grunted. He folded his arms inwards, crouched low and then sprung out into the air.
He missed the ladder by a mile.
He hung in darkness for a second before tumbling towards the earth. Yet he only fell for a short moment before hitting something solid.
The crate.
Amazingly, he had landed on the crate!
He rolled onto his back and laughed out loud. He made eye contact with the gunner above him. Ben shook his head disbelievingly. Jacob grinned back.
A bolt of light flashed, ripping the dust clouds apart and the forked lightning connected with the tower in an explosion of sparks. The resultant light played starkly across the beast’s face. Its single eye pinned Jacob to the crate. He shuddered. They had had a lucky escape. The beast roared mightily - a fist pounding against its chest.
Jacob offered the magnificent beast a salute, then held on tightly as the Huey dropped the crate towards the rushing earth.
They’d made it.
Just.
Chapter Forty
Black Bird dropped gracefully from the sky. The rotor-blades thudded with a rhythmic clatter and the Huey appeared out of the clouds. The aircraft banked to the left and dropped towards a natural basin. It disappeared into the depths of the valley for a few seconds before shooting out at the other end, taking its valuable cargo further southwards. The Ray of Hope was firmly fixed to one of the Huey’s skids, the pilot at its side now steering it towards its ultimate objective.
Tate flipped a switch and the outside world became a landscape of green hills. The infrared system revealed a desolate and barren landscape, one that had not felt the warmth of sunshine for nearly two whole decades. She pulled back on the flight-stick and Black Bird climbed back towards the dust above. At her side, Jacob yawned and rubbed away the crust of sleep from the corner of his eye. Tate’s metallic voice scratched at his ears.
“You were out of it for a while there.”
He turned to her, but the dark bowl of her visor concealed her face. He’d spent the last three hours in a near-coma. “I had a somewhat busy day,” he told her.
She laughed, a genuine sound of amusement. “Seems like everywhere you go, trouble follows.”
“Comes with the job description,” he said.
She laughed again, and Jacob thought it was a sound that should be heard more ofte
n. It gave him hope and the feeling that not all had been lost.
“I still can’t convince you to stay with us?” she asked.
He shook his head, and then understood the slight gesture would have been missed as Tate concentrated on the world ahead. “No,” he replied, simply.
“Okay, but I want you to know that it isn’t just your battle. You can’t win this all by yourself. Everybody needs help, even you, Jacob Cain.”
“I’ve got help,” he responded.
“Who?”
“Our friend in the back.”
“You mean, Pet?”
“Yeah.”
Tate turned to him and her gloved hand pushed the dark visor away. She looked at him with affection, but said, “You’re a fool. That thing will get you killed within three seconds of entering the vampires’ camp.”
“Then I’ll have to make sure I achieve my goals within two seconds.”
She opened her mouth, but her argument failed to form. He wasn’t going to be talked out of it, no matter what. She sighed heavily, and Jacob hoped her laughter hadn’t gone for good.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re a special man, Jacob Cain. We need you.” She meant the human race as a whole. “Don’t go and get yourself killed, or I’ll be really pissed.”
“I do have a vested interest in just that,” Jacob told her, and the welcome sound of her laughter returned.
“I guess you do at that,” she agreed.
They flew in silence for a few minutes, each occupied with their own thoughts. Up ahead, just on the horizon, a slight glow began to burn away the darkness.