by Maxey, Phil
“So what you think of the camp?” he said.
She looked at him as if being woken from a dream. “Oh… umm, you seem to have a good system in place.”
“Good system? We sweated blood and tears to get that place up and running! I’m especially happy with the fact that we now have three coffee shops!”
She smiled. She knew the captain wanted to talk, but visions of hordes of vamps, their eyes dark but emitting a green glow, clambering across the fields and over the walls of the prison, kept pushing itself into her mind. She had hoped that such thoughts would pass now they had found a safe haven, but they clung to her psyche, reminding her that nowhere was safe. Her instincts were just doing their job she thought.
Pachmayer saw the anguish on her face and leaned forward towards her.
“So any news on the corporation's forces?” she blurted the question out in an effort to get outside her own mind.
Pachmayer looked disappointed at the seriousness of her words and rested his head back on the frame. “You’ve had more meetings with the general than I have over the past day. You tell me.”
“We should be doing recon north of the camp. Send some squads to satellite towns—” She stopped, seeing he was smiling.
“Done and done. Like I said, the general is a smart lady.”
A few yards away Dalton sat against the back wall of the car, his top half lost in shadow. Geri sat awkwardly nearby, intermittently glancing his way hoping he would start a conversation. Finally, he did.
“There’s something you want to say?” he said without looking at her.
“When did you find out you weren’t like the other vamps? That you were a wolf.”
He sighed. “Long story.”
“Well, we—”
The train jolted again, but this time it was followed by the world outside slowing down rapidly.
Pachmayer got to his feet, hanging onto the door frame and leaning outside. He went to lift his radio to his mouth but stopped on seeing the scene along the track.
“Shit.”
“What?” said Carla, standing. She leaned outside and saw the same as Pachmayer.
The train jolted one last time and came to a stop. They jumped down onto the side of the track as other soldiers in the car behind did the same.
A hundred yards ahead of them was a scene of mangled metal carnage. Cars, trucks, semis. Vehicles of all types and sizes laid crushed and smashed across the tracks. Above them, a fifteen-foot piece of barrier along the side of a highway, which passed over the tracks was missing.
Pachmayer and Carla walked past the train engine and up to the first of the crumpled vehicles. A maroon sedan, which was under a dark blue pickup. He raised his radio to his lips, as he looked at the low position of the sun on the horizon. “Telford. When you get back to the camp. Tell them, we’re not going to be able to make it back before tonight. Over.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Daniel Copeland stood in the living room of his parents Beverly Hills’ home. The doors, which ran around two sides of the walls, were open to the two acres of land outside, and the breeze coming in was not doing much to cool him.
His mother was lost somewhere on sunset boulevard, but his father was home. He was always home having retired at the age of thirty-seven when he cashed out in the mid-eighties. That was twenty years ago.
His father leaned back in the designer leather chair and picked up his cocktail. The staff made him one promptly when the sun was nearing the horizon each day. Today’s choice was a Bloody Mary.
“So go ahead then. You say you have something to tell me?” said his father.
The younger Copeland straightened his back. “I’m dropping out of university.” Despite his nervousness, the words came easy. He had been practicing all night.
When the actual event took place, his father merely smiled, and wished him luck on his new endeavor, not caring what his son did. But that was a memory, and this was a dream. And in this dream, his father was Rynon.
The king was dressed immaculately in a white suit and tie. And the cocktail had been made with real blood.
Copeland looked back to the garden, it was gone, replaced with a desert. A sun-baked surface on which even invertebrates couldn’t survive.
“You say you have something to tell me?” repeated Rynon, his words booming.
Copeland looked at him, but now he was on a black stone throne and rather than standing in his parents’ home he was in a temple-like space, with pillars many feet thick and an arch stone ceiling that was lost in shadows hundreds of feet above.
Copeland thought to say the same thing again, that he was dropping his business course in favor of a startup opportunity when he realized he was older now. That was years ago, now he was serving the kings.
“Take him back to his cell, he has nothing to say…” bellowed Rynon. His brothers who were seated in smaller thrones either side of him started laughing. Rynon joined in.
Copeland couldn’t understand what the joke was, but then looked at his hands… human hands. He looked at his arms and legs. All human. He was no longer even a Drak. He was back to what he used to be. A lowly human.
“Yes you are right, brother, let us all feed upon him. He will at least tide us over until dinner!”
They all got off their thrones and started walking towards him, their eyes turning black, and their hands becoming claws. He was to be eaten.
Copeland jolted awake in his cell, opening his eyes, and then immediately closing them as pain shot through his pupils and into his brain.
He wanted to cry out for them to turn the lights down, that he could not take the constant light a moment longer, but no words came from his lips. Not that he was being brave, he knew there was no point. Nobody would respond. They didn’t even care enough to torture him directly.
His eyes felt moist.
Tears?
He scoffed.
Pain, not tears. I cry in pain.
“Why did you leave me, Father?” said Jasper dressed in all white in the opposite corner of the cell.
Copeland wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or closed, but he could see his son, nevertheless.
Not real. Madness.
Jasper was not wearing his usual sunglasses, instead, his natural eyes looked upon his father.
“You are not real!” said Copeland.
“I am alone, Father.”
“No, no. You are with them. The enemy.”
“I wander the wasteland, Father, looking for you…”
Copeland’s rage burst from him. “No!” he screamed across the cell.
He was alone. Only blank walls looked back at him. The air in his lungs sunk from his lips and he sat back on the small bench.
*****
“What was that?” said Carla, looking into the wall of trees just visible at the edge of the pool of light cast by a lantern that was resting on the gravel.
Dalton, Geri, and a group of soldiers heaved on the back and side of a silver pickup, one of the last to be moved. It slid off the back of a coupe then rolled back away from the track.
Dalton stood sniffing the air. “We got some visitors. About a mile out.”
“Human or vamp?” said Pachmayer.
“Vamps,” answered Geri.
The broken highway above them was at the edge of a small town. Some of the soldiers had already explored some of its streets and buildings not finding any sign of life, vamp or otherwise.
They all looked at the last remaining vehicle. A black semi-truck that was laid on its side across a part of the track. Its loaded trailer had landed on its wheels and was to the side behind it.
Dalton walked to it, pressed his hands onto the chassis and heaved. His form started to enlarge and muscles bulged but he remained in human form. It remained fixed to the spot. He relaxed and stood upright. “This is gonna be a problem,” he said over his shoulder to the others watching.
More creaking of wood came from the forest at the top of the nearby bank of l
ong grass.
Pachmayer looked at the soldiers. “Baxter, Hume, and Cantrell. I want your M4s on that bank of trees.”
The soldiers walked away from the track, each covered in sweat and knelt pointing their rifles at the woods.
The captain looked back at the obstruction on the track and then at the train.
Carla knew what he was thinking. “It might work,” she said to him.
He nodded and looked at the engineer that was still in the train engine’s cabin. Waving his hand in a circle he shouted. “Fire it up, we’re going to try and push this truck out of the way!”
The clatter of gunfire filled the air as three vamps sprinted out of the darkness of the trees and were almost on the soldiers when they were dropped.
Dalton walked towards them, then looked back to the others. “Lots more coming!”
“Everyone back on the train! We’re getting out of here!” shouted Pachmayer.
Everyone, including Dalton and the soldiers, got to their feet and ran to the train jumping up inside the open cars.
Pachmayer climbed inside the train’s engine cabin and hung out of the open door. “Take us forward,” he said to the driver.
The older man increased the throttle and the train jolted then slid forward slowly.
More vamps burst from the trees, each of them only getting a few feet before neon streams cut them down.
The train neared the wreckage.
“Slowly now…” said Pachmayer.
The piercing sound of iron and steel scraping against each other filled the night as the front of the train collided with the truck’s cabin and immediately started to shunt it along the track.
“Come on…” said Pachmayer under his breath. “Give it more juice,” he said to the driver.
The train increased in speed pushing the truck further forward. Suddenly, its trailer pulled it back and it slid off the track and onto the gravel.
Sparks flew up as the train's wheels hit the front of the truck, making Pachmayer pull back inside, but soon they died down and the train was moving without restraint.
He looked at the driver. “Faster. We need to get this train back.”
The forty-minute journey to the camp was uneventful. As they neared the section where the walls intersected the track, the barrier had been removed and the train and its collection of freight cars moved inside, and a few miles later stopped in the middle of town alongside an old building that used to store grain. A number of soldiers, officers, and the general were waiting.
Pachmayer jumped down from the engine as the others did the same from the cars. He walked to the general and saluted. “As ordered, one locomotive, ma’am.”
She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. She looked at Carla who was also smiling, then to the rest of the soldiers. “Job well done, people. Now get some rest. You’re all leaving on another mission in six hours.”
Stifled groans came from the soldiers as they filtered away.
Carla looked around for Geri and Dalton but they were nowhere to be seen.
In the street over from the tracks, the bell rang above the coffee shop door, heralding new customers.
Dalton and Geri walked inside, exhausted, and sat heavily on chairs.
Some of the customers nearby held their noses and the waitress approached them awkwardly.
Before she opened her mouth, Dalton spoke.
“Coffee.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Joel sat in the passenger’s seat of the Humvee looking out into the absolute darkness, wondering if there was any human life still out there. He also wondered if that still mattered as he wasn’t sure what the difference was anymore. He was human, at least mostly. It had been tens of thousands of years since Homo sapiens had to co-exist with other humanoids. They did it before so maybe they could do it again. But then, that didn’t work out too well for the Neanderthals.
Would that happen again? Would there only be one type of us left standing at the end of this?
That was a question for another day. For now, he needed to concentrate on the mission the general had asked him to be part of. He was surprised she did but was glad to be free of his babysitting duties at the warehouse. It also told him she wasn’t the kind of person to hold a grudge. ‘Trust is earned’ she said to him just before they left. And this was his and some others’ chance to do that.
He was in one of three Humvees carrying Amos, Kizzy, Dalton, Geri, Pachmayer, Keller, Carla, and another five soldiers.
The mission seemed simple enough. Go back to the camp up north. Observe and get intelligence. Report back to home base so they could prepare for what the corporation had planned.
Yeah, simple…
He knew from his days in the HRT there was no such thing as a ‘simple’ mission. Just simple plans that fell apart in complicated situations.
Still, large-scale war was not his thing. Targeted missions were.
He pulled the helmet he had been given off and leaned back. If they drove through the night they should just about arrive at their destination before sun up.
Closing his eyes, his mind drifted to Bill, the man who he thought was a little crazy when he first met but grew to respect.
We wouldn’t have gotten all this way without Bill.
Joel also liked Max and the other scientists. Including Josh, a usually quiet man that weighed in with important comments when they were needed.
My blood turned him into a killer.
Joel pushed the guilt from his mind. He was done with regrets and, instead, thought about the only positive thing from the last few days.
Marina doesn’t hate me anymore.
In the vehicle behind, Amos pretended to be asleep but was actually awake, scanning those around him. Kizzy’s head was leaned on his right shoulder which was weird for him. Any other time it would have been fine but surrounded by soldiers, and being driven into a possible battle, it felt off to ‘cuddle.’ He wanted to be seen to be a useful member of the team, not the weird guy with the weirder girlfriend.
He looked down at her and frowned but couldn’t feel awkward for more than a moment. It was the end of the world and somehow someone still gave a shit about him. And not just for his abilities, in fact, that was the one thing she disliked.
He thought about what the general had said to him some hours earlier. ‘Get as close to the enemy as you need to and find out what they’re up to. Then relay that information to one of the officers as quick as you can… oh, and don’t get yourself dead.’
She patted him on the back and sent him on his way. He wondered if he was now a real soldier.
Nah.
The road north was mostly straight and, without any light from towns or cities, seemingly endless. After six hours they passed into Indiana and Carla informed everyone that in two hours they would be there.
For most who were in that space between being fully awake and sleep the two hours seemed like two minutes.
The convoy slowed, then the lead vehicle pulled off the road and into a gas station parking lot. Headlights lit up an ice dispenser, and stacked chairs.
Joel lifted his head. He hadn’t been in much of a deep sleep. He had learned by now that as a partial vamp he could only really sleep comfortably during the daytime. Still, he was glad for the rest. “We’re here?” he said to Carla.
She nodded trying to see anything in the void outside. Then she remembered who she was sitting next to. “You see where we are?”
Joel blinked a few times then strained his eyes to their surroundings. To the south, a lone truck sat with one door open about twenty feet in front of them. Beyond that was small warehouses, fields then hills. He turned to the north.
“This road runs between some stores. Looks like a small town… and I think there’s a bridge up ahead.”
“Good, this is the right place.” She looked at her watch. “One hour till sunrise. We need to find boats real quick.”
*****
Iona Mathews looked out into the
pre-dawn sky from a first-floor building. It was one of the largest in the small town she and her compatriots had invaded and was formally the makeshift camp HQ. Around her abandoned desks were covered in pieces of paper containing lists of the town's supplies, the number of people that needed to be fed, and the future plans they had to expand. All of it now redundant. The two hundred odd former occupants had been sent back west to the growing number of blood farms, and the Alkrons they discovered had been sent to the specialized Alkron camps where they were being trained for the corporation.
Things were proceeding well. Which was why she was angry that Rynon deemed it necessary that his two brothers come to babysit her. Having spent seventeen years in the army reaching the rank of Lieutenant Colonel before being recruited by the CIA and eventually running her own station, she was used to others taking her lead. Still, the world had changed, and as her original CIA mentor used to tell her, ‘Adapt or die.’
She saw the two Alkrons walking up the street towards the building. In the burgeoning light, she could see the dark patches covering their lower jaw.
They have been feeding.
Her irritation was added to by who they must have been feeding on. Her soldiers. She made a mental note to do a roll call at noon, to see how many were now missing.
One of the brothers, the one with the long tied back hair, patted the other on the shoulder who seemed disinterested, then they disappeared from her view, entering the building below.
A tinge of fear ran through her knowing they would soon be standing close by, but she crushed it. She wasn’t Carla Antos, she wasn’t going to run just because her new masters had fangs. Copeland and now Rynon were ruling by an iron hand because that’s what was needed. The Scourge destroyed society. That wasn’t going to be put back together easily.
There was a light breeze, and she knew Tyror and Eltir were already in the same room as her. “I hope you did not kill too many of my soldiers.”
Tyror laughed and walked a few steps forward, standing next to her. “Why is it I can never sneak up on you? You sure you’re not like us?”