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Nightfall
By VampireHunter_D
NIGHTFALL
The Beginning
How long will it take the world to end? By my standards, I’d say it was already over; but then again, everyone always said "what the hell do you know?". How many people have to be dead before it can be considered THE END?
It’s been a week since I’ve heard anyone on any of the radios, not what you would call a good sign.
I remember when this all started, just over a year ago, and how fantastic it had seemed. A vampire had been caught in LA. A real, honest to goodness, blood sucking creature of the night. It was kind of weird, being televised all over the country, having been filmed by one of the realistic, in your face cop shows.
Every body’s innocent until proven guilty, and the politicians claimed that that even went for a vampire. The state appointed attorney argued how the man wasn’t at fault, driven by supernatural desires that no one could resist.
I remember thinking how funny that was.
Then there was the argument that he should be studied for science, that his healing and regenerative powers needed to be understood. The boons for humankind would be fantastic if they could only unlock the secrets of his physiology.
God, were we ever ignorant.
A deal was struck, supposedly of the vampire’s own accord, and he was sequestered away in a facility of the top bidding medical research company. In less than a month they had a formula that they tried on a volunteer cancer patient.
The entire world cheered when the woman’s cancer was wiped from her body in a matter of hours. The FDA never approved a drug for wide spread testing faster than it did NRE002; Nosferatu Regenerative Enzyme number 2.
Six months after it’s capture, the vampire had given us a substance that supposedly cured over a thousand people.
Then the hunger came.
The first test patient, the woman, had vanished. While authorities were investigating her disappearance, more of the test patients changed over. It happened like a giant wave, spreading faster than anyone ever dreamed.
With every night, hundreds, then thousands, would become new victims. It swept over the country, then the world within three months, nearly three quarters of the world’s population turned into vampires.
You would think that the small cities would fall early, but the blood suckers went for the big ones first. A more dense selection of food, I guess. Easier to find a meal. Easier to get lost in the hustle and bustle of the big city, where most people were strangers.
Of course, in the end, they did make it here, to the small cities.
Sunlight, crosses, and fire were our only weapons, and there was never enough of any, the sheer number of vampires overwhelming anyone that tried to stand against them.
If not for Ben’s helicopter, we would have perished a long time ago. But now, here on the roof of the tallest building in the city, I know our time is running out.
Or, more specifically, my time is running out.
We set down here yesterday, low on fuel, just miles short of where Ben’s map showed an airport to be. He left yesterday afternoon, confident that he would be able to fill the dozen cans we had found and return with fuel before sunset.
He never came back.
Last night had been the longest night of my life, each tiny noise making me certain that a vampire had scented me out. But sunrise had finally come, still no sign of Ben, and I thanked God for another day.
But what was I going to do with it?
Ben was the mechanical one, the one with all the knowledge. You would think that in the last few weeks I would have picked up something, but I hadn’t. Ben was the one who could get a ravished car to work, to be able to drive out of here, not me.
The vamps took few chances, long ago disabling any vehicle around. They didn’t like to hunt their prey, they liked it easy to find. And now I was stuck here in this little city in Ohio, Mansfield I think it was called, and I have no hope of escaping.
I can only pray that there are still some humans out there, hiding somewhere beyond the vampires’ reach. The blood suckers have doomed themselves also, wiping us out like this.
What will they eat when we’re all gone?
Maybe, someday, after they’ve all starved, any people that did manage to hide away will come out to reclaim this desolate world. Then again, maybe there really isn’t anyone left but me.
The point is moot, the sunlight’s quickly fading, I can barely see to write this now. They’re already moving about, below in the streets, keeping to the shadows. I can’t help but wonder how close Ben is; if he’ll come for me himself or lead others here.
I hate to think of a dozen or so vamps fighting for my still warm blood, the last they’ll probably see for a very long time.
Maybe some one will find this; my short, incoherent account of the end of mankind. Who knows? All I can end this with, for who, or what, ever finds it, is to let you know that I didn’t waste the entire day up here, dreading the coming nightfall.
No, I didn’t waste it all. This building is the city’s government, housing within it the police department. It took a while, not only finding the room but also finding the tools to break into it, but I did it. I got a twelve gauge shot gun, and I’m ready to use it.
I’m not going to end up like one of them.
Funny thing is, I use to like to watch the nightfall.
"Survivors"
Thin red tendrils of light stretched from the horizon, mixing with the invading darkness to cast the sky in shades of dark purple. From his vantage point atop the small building, Bill could see that he did not have much time left. He had spent most of the evening up there, writing down scattered memories of the past year, mostly a suicide note to any that might eventually find his body.
He decided he had put it off long enough, they would soon be venturing up the stairwells of the building to seek him out. He did not want to end up as one of them; as nearly everyone else had; as a vampire. He had spent the afternoon breaking into the police armory, claiming only a shotgun and a handful of shells. That was all that he needed to end it; he had no delusions about escaping the city.
He thought of his parents, long gone when the attacks first began, and of friends that vanished one after another as the wave of vampirism swept the globe. He thought of his last friend, Ben, who had kept them alive this long and was now undoubtedly a vampire himself.
Tears began streaming down his cheeks, burning his eyes as he let them flow freely, the emptiness building worse than ever. It had to be now, while he was accepting the realization that there was no future; no way to escape what had happened to the entire human race.
He placed the double barrels of the shotgun under his chin, closing his eyes as he wrapped his finger around the trigger. He concentrated to slow his breathing, suddenly realizing that it had been coming in fast, short gasps. In his mind he began to countdown from three, building his nerve to pull the trigger and end it.
Three.
Deep, slow breath.
Two.
Deep, slow breath.
"I don’t think you want to do that," came a man’s voice that nearly startled Bill enough that he almost pulled the trigger any way.
Bill opened one eye, barely making out three shapes in the near darkness of nightfall. Enough of them could be seen to make out that they were human, still, and not the dreaded Nosferatu searching for their newest meal. A short laugh escaped from his lips, expelled more as a gasp of surprise than anything.
"You’re not alone," spoke the same voice, coming from the center of the trio of shadowy forms. The man stepped forward, his features becoming discernable, and Bill could not believe who he was seeing.
The man was a priest. That was a double shock; the members of the church had been the preferred targets of the vampires when they had first spread. With those strong in faith quickly out of the way, the vampires had an even easier time spreading. The man’s white smile was a bright contrast to his dark skin, his African heritage having given him a very dark complexion.
"I don’t believe it," stuttered Bill, rising from his seated position. "I…I didn’t think anyone else was still alive!"
"We won’t be for long if we don’t get out of here!" warned one of the others.
Guessing her to be in her mid-twenties, Bill smiled at meeting the woman that stepped up beside the priest. Stout in figure, she looked both bored and anxious at the same time, with dirty blonde hair that took away from the shine within her eyes. She had been a friendly person at one time, but then surviving the last year in world overrun with vampires will do wonders to your looks.
The third person was another man, carrying two large containers marked fuel. Though short in stature, with black hair that hung down about his shoulders, the man had a hard edge to his face that conveyed his capability for violence. Bill had seen that look before, years ago on the face of a man that had robbed a fast food restaurant that he had been dinning in at the time.
"I’m Father Cameron," introduced the priest. "Father Roy Cameron. This is Diane Price," he continued, tipping his hand towards the woman. "And Ron McCrae."
"Bill. Bill Hopkins." He shook hands with the priest, still amazed that others were here with him when moments ago he was ready to end it all because he had thought himself the last human on earth.
"As Ron said, we haven’t much time," continued Cameron.
"This is insane," argued Bill. "Why did you wait until night to come up here? Why are you up here?"
"For the helicopter, idiot," spat Ron, stepping around the two men to start dumping the fuel into the setting machine.
"Diane, would you see what’s keeping Jim?" asked Father Cameron before turning to explain things to Bill. "We spotted it this afternoon. After checking it out and finding it only to be out of fuel, we went to retrieve some."
"That must have been while I was breaking into the armory."
"I can fly us out of here, but we haven’t much time. It took us longer to find the proper fuel than we thought it would."
"You can fly the copter?"
"I’ve learned a thing or two during my missionary days."
Guns shots echoed up to them through the open roof door, followed by cries for help from Diane. Bill and Roy ran to the doorway, nearly colliding with Diane as she backed out onto the roof, firing down into the darkness.
"We’ve got company," cried Diane, squeezing off the last two rounds of her rifle.
The group ran for the helicopter as Ron finished pouring the last of the fuel into it. Roy clamored into the pilot’s seat and began flicking switches while Diane reloaded her rifle. Bill covered the door, holding the shotgun that he had been planning on using on himself, ready to fire on anyone that came through the door.
"Where’s the rest of the cans?" asked Ron.
"I couldn’t get to them," replied Diane. "Jim’s dead. That bloodsucker got him."
"Damn it!" cursed Ron, slamming his fist into the side of the copter.
"Jim was his brother," informed Diane, catching Bill’s questioning glance.
A black shape was suddenly at the door, it’s awkward movements conveying that it was one of the newer vampires, not yet graceful and fluid-like in it’s motions. Dressed in ragged clothes that told how violently it had died at the hands of the vampires, something clicked in Bill’s head. The clothes seemed familiar, and when the creature turned to stare at them, he knew why.
"Oh, God," he nearly whispered. "Ben."
"Billllll," it hissed, smiling at the man. "I though I would find you here."
The copter whirred to life, the blades beginning to slowly spin as they built up momentum. The noise that the craft made seemed like a roar in the silence of the dead world, no other sounds existing to challenge it. Every one of them hoped it wouldn’t take long for the craft to be ready; the others undoubtedly were already on their way.
"Damn it, Ben. Why weren’t you more careful?"
"It’s not as bad as we thought, Bill," spoke Ben, his voice smooth and relaxing. "We’re friends, Bill. Join me."
The shot gun boomed, Bill emptying both barrels into the vampire. One massive black hole appeared in Ben’s chest, nearly knocking the vampire back, but failed to kill the creature as Bill had intended. The vampire looked up from the rapidly healing hole in it’s chest to stare Bill in the eyes.
"Is that your final answer?" asked Ben.
Twip!
A small, wooden shaft suddenly appeared in Ben’s chest, directly where his heart should be, and a look of shock came over the vamp’s face. The wet gurgling sound he was making ended as he fell to the ground, death finally coming to him.
Bill glanced over to see Ron holding a pistol sized cross-bow.
"Let’s go, people," shouted Roy out to them. "We don’t have enough fuel to be wasting it on waiting for the others to show up!"
The group climbed into the copter, Roy pulling back on the stick to lift the machine up into the darkening sky. Dozens of forms flowed out onto the roof, some of the creatures leaping franticly in a vain attempt to latch onto the copter’s landing struts.
"Here’s why you couldn’t get anyone on the radio," spoke Roy, showing Bill a burnt fuse he had removed from under the console. "We’re going to have to set down and try to fuel up at the airport…quickly. Should be able to find some fuses there, if we’re not overrun."
"Then there’s more people out there?" asked Bill, a feeling of hope building in him. He had thought he would never feel that way again.
"Yeah. Not many of us, but enough."
"For what?"
"To reclaim our world!" shouted Ron from the back of the copter.
"Building A Mystery"
"Anything?" asked Roy, inverted on the copter’s seat so that his head was under the control panel.
"No, not yet," replied Bill, fiddling with the radio controls.
The problem with the helicopter’s radio had turned out to be more than a burnt fuse, the fuse having gotten that way from an overload that had still managed to short out a few wires. Roy had set them down at a small airport near Galion, Ohio, and though they had found plenty of fuel, other supplies were scarce. He was attempting to repair the radio without the proper parts, hoping that it would last long enough for them to re-establish communications with the other groups of humans.
"Wait a minute!" shouted Bill, a burst of static filling the cabin. He adjusted the controls, finally locking in a clear signal.
The voice was strong, full of authority, and rushing along in a completely foreign language. Bill thought it somehow seemed familiar, the tones hitting a cord somewhere in his memory, but he couldn’t place it.
"German?" asked Ron, sticking his head in through the open door next to Roy.
"I think so," agreed Roy, sliding out to look up at the two men. "It’s been a long time since I’ve heard it, but…Yeah, I think it is."
"Why are we hearing German?" asked Bill. "This radio ain’t that strong. Besides, we’re in the heart of Ohio."
"It is time, my children," whispered Roy, barely loud enough for the others to hear. "Return to the great cities of man."
"You speak German, too," admonished Bill, clearly impressed.
"Some what. But like I said, it’s been a while," replied Roy.
"It is time, my children?" repeated Ron. "What the hell is that suppose to mean?"
"Shhh!" commanded Roy, straining to hear the broadcast. The voice continued on, a few minutes later becoming evident that it was a recorded message that was looping.
"A hand, please," directed Roy, letting Ron help him shift himself around so that he could get out from under the console he had been working on. Once on solid ground, he pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping his hands off.
"Well?" demanded Bill, staring at the man standing outside of the copter. "What was it saying?"
"This is worse than we thought."
"How can the world being overrun by vampires be any worse?" asked Ron. "Fighting for our lives against hordes of frenzied bloodsuckers seems to be at the top of my we’re fucked list."
"They’re organized," Roy informed the stunned men.
* * * *
"Are you sure this stuff will work?" asked Bill, nervous as hell about what they were attempting to do.
"No," answered Roy, honestly. "We used it before, with no problems, but there’s always a first time."
Bill and Roy were dressed in camouflage fatigues, hunting suits recovered from a desolate farm house, hidden in some foliage off of state route 71, just outside of the Columbus city limits. Besides their garb, they had dowsed themselves with liberal amounts of "Buck Scent: The Hunter’s Helper". Roy claimed that it helped to cover their natural scents, hiding them from any casual observances by vampires.
Ron and Diane were similarly outfitted, hidden on the opposite side of the split, double laned highway. They were investigating the message that Roy had deciphered from the radio earlier that day, the message that was still playing and was calling for all vampires to return to the larger cities.
It was nearly three in the morning, and so far the group had spied over a hundred vehicles roaring down the road, heading directly for Columbus. They had no idea what it all ment, only that someone was calling for the vamps to regroup, and, strangely enough, the vamps were obeying.
"How long are we going to stay out here?" came Ron’s voice over the walkie talkie. "You’ve proved your point, Preach."
"We might as well stay put until daylight," responded Roy. "We’ll be safer holding off than trying to trounce through the woods."
"You guys stay here," rebutted Ron. "I’m heading back for the house."
Roy merely shook his head, tired of fighting to keep Ron in line. The man was an excellent fighter, having dispatched more vamps than any of them, but his past life kept surfacing to challenge the only order left in this world.
"What the heck’s his problem?" asked Bill. He had joined the group only two days ago and had not gotten a chance to learn much about any of them. He was thankful for them having shown up, staying off his intended suicide, but wanted to know that he could count on them past that impromptu meeting.
"I think Ron should be the one to tell you that," offered Roy. He may have been the ‘designated’ leader of the group, only occasionally challenged by Ron, but he was still a priest, and he still tried to follow his own teachings. "Let me just say that, when I found him, Ron was not in a position to go anywhere."
"Jail?" asked Bill, already knowing the answer. "Jes…er…sorry. He’s a criminal, isn’t he?"
"This is a new world that we live in, Bill. I think that we need to put the past behind us if we’re going to survive in it."
"That’s a nice sentimentality and all, but can we trust him to cover our backs?"
"I have, several times already."
"Hmm."
The two remained, silence settling over them as they continued to watch the occasional car or truck go whizzing by. It was strange to see the vehicles on the highway, almost so normal seeming as to make Bill want to flag down one of the cars for a ride. He had to fight the urge, reminding himself all the time that the drivers of those vehicles were no longer human, and that they would consider him a fast food stop.
"This is just too weird," spoke Diane, over the walkie-talkie. "It’s like they’re going back to their previous life."
It was obvious that the girl was getting nervous, now left alone in the dark on the other side of the highway. Bill wished that he could trade places with her, though he doubted he would be any less scared, that he could ease her fear.
"Uh, hey, Father Cameron?" called Diane, her voice now filled with concern.
"It’s okay, Diane," he replied. "We’re still over here."
"No, it’s not that. There’s a truck coming," she told them. "It’s coming from the city!"
Being on a slightly larger hill, Diane had the advantage of seeing over the small rise in the highway, spotting the truck before the two men had. Roy and Bill both turned their attention south, making out the dull, pre-shine of approaching headlights. A large, black truck suddenly came over the rise, it’s roof covered with a myriad of antennas and radio dishes. Tall, white letters on the side of the truck read S.W.A.T., and confusion began building in the humans.
The truck screeched to halt on the road, at a point directly between the humans, and four shadowy forms emerged from it. The vamps were decked out in full tact armor, each of them carrying rifles. One of the vamps was also carrying a large piece of electronic equipment, constantly fiddling with the numerous controls on it.
"What are they doing?" came Diane’s voice, Roy silently praying for her to be quite. "Father, are you there?"
"Are you going to answer her?" asked Bill, his mouth immediately covered by Roy’s hand.
The vamp with the gizmo began speaking excitedly, the distance making his words unintelligible, and pointing in Diane’s direction. The other vamps charged across the road, their powerful strides carrying them almost faster than Roy or Bill could follow. These weren’t newbies; these vamps had been around a while, developing their strengths and becoming skilled with them.
"We’ve got to do something," hissed Bill, straining to be quiet.
"What do you suggest?"
Bill was caught, he had no idea how they could stand against four skilled vamps. Hell, he wasn’t sure how they could stand against unskilled vamps! He continued watching, as did Roy, as the vamps began thrashing through the brush, drawing ever closer to Diane’s hiding place.
One of the vamps turned and yelled at his comrades, probably something along the lines of "Over here", and suddenly stumbled backwards, a large bolt sticking out of his chest. He had been right on top of Diane but she was definitely not going down with out a fight.
Bill could barely make out her form as she rose, sighting on another of the vamps and firing her crossbow. The bolt missed it’s mark, striking the side of the S.W.A.T. van with a metallic twang, and the vamp raised his rifle in response.
Tensing, dreading the coming boom of the rifle, Bill and Roy were both surprised when all they heard was a flat hissing sound. A bright, pink spot appeared on Diane, a dart hanging from her arm as she looked down at it in confusion. Two more soft pops rang out, two more darts hitting the woman.
Diane’s eyes rolled back, showing nothing but white as she slumped to the ground, unconscious. The remaining vamps were on her in a second, lifting her body effortlessly and carrying her back to the waiting truck.
"Wh…What are they doing?" whispered Bill. His emotions were running the gauntlet at the moment; shocked that she hadn’t been fed from, thrilled that it seemed like they wanted her alive, and confused as to the whole thing.
"I don’t know," replied an equally stymied Roy. "But come sunlight, we’re going to find out."
"Revelations"
The vamps had left behind the body of their fallen comrade, at least one of their cold traits holding true, but nothing could be learned from it; it had become a skeletal pile of dust. Roy and Bill searched the uniform, finding that vampires apparently did not carry any personal items on them, and nothing else.
"What the hell was up with these vamps?" asked Bill, still confused about what had transpired last night. "How did they find us? Diane?"
"They must have triangulated on our signals," offered Roy, not sounding too sure of the answer himself. "When they got close enough they just homed in on the strongest signal source, and since she was transmitting…"
"That’s crazy," admonished Bill. "They can’t be using the equipment!"
"Why not? Do you think that just because they’ve become vampires, that these people would forget everything about their previous lives?"
"Yes. No. I don’t know. But why? Why did they take her? They didn’t even try to feed from her."
"We need to get back to the farm house and tell Ron what’s happened."
Bill started to unhook the walkie-talkie from his belt when Roy’s hand fell on his arm, stopping him.
"We need to stay off those, too, for now."
"But it’s daylight, they can’t track us now."
"Just because it’s light out doesn’t mean it’s light where they are. They could track us from inside a building. Even if they can’t come after us right now, there’s always later. Besides, we don’t want to give away too much information about us."
Bill nodded in understanding and fell into step behind Roy, the pair starting the one mile track back to the farm house. While Bill kept trying to fit all of the pieces together, Roy was busy devising a plan of action.
The S.W.A.T. van couldn’t have gone too far, it had been close to sunrise when they had finally left. They had enough fuel left to get to Columbus Airport, and then they could fuel up and begin an air search, looking for anything strange.
Roy’s only concern was how they would define that. In a world overrun with vampires, what would constitute as strange?
* * * * *
Things had not gone well upon the duo’s return to the farm house. Ron’s indifference to Diane’s…kidnapping…had resulted in a confrontation with Bill that almost led to a fight. Roy had done some fast talking to keep the two men from each other’s throat; that plus placing himself between them since neither one of them was willing to strike the priest.
In order to give both the men time to cool off, it was decided that once they arrived at Columbus airport, Ron would borrow a vehicle and go on a supply run. The group was running low on both food and ammunition, many stores still filled with merchandise despite the wide spread riots and looting that had occurred. Roy and Bill would carry out the search, looking for any signs of recent activity, and rendezvous with Ron back at the airport at five o’clock.
With a range of nearly four hundred miles, the Jetranger was covering a lot of ground, Roy mixing in flight training for Bill while they searched. Bill was picking things up rather well, eager to learn as much as he could since the incident with Ben. He wanted to make sure he was never stranded again, unable to use a full day’s worth of light to get as far away as possible.
Bill was in control of the copter when they spotted something that was definitely out of the ordinary with everything else that they had seen. They were over the north-west part of the city, working their way inward from where they had encountered the vamps, when they located a large structure, akin to that of an enclosed stadium.
It wasn’t the stadium that was strange, it was the fact that the acres of parking lot surrounding it were all full. Hundreds of cars were neatly parked around the building, a very strange sight since all public gathering had ceased long before the final fall.
"Uh, I think you better take over, Roy," said Bill, relinquishing the controls of the craft. Flying slow and easy was one thing, making tight maneuvers to circle about and land was another.
As they drew nearer to the building, they could make out one entire section of vehicles that were nothing but law enforcement or military in origin. Several large trucks like the one from last night were setting within the sea of metal, and they were certain they had found what they were looking for.
The question now was what was it?
Roy set the copter down in front of what appeared to be the main entrance to the building, and the two exited the craft cautiously, uncertain of what they would find. Looking about the vast parking lot, a chill ran through Bill as the silence crashed down on him, the lack of noise going against his every experience.
"Kind of grates on the nerves, doesn’t it?" asked Roy as if reading Bill’s mind. "We aren’t use to prolonged periods of silence like this. And seeing all this, all these signs of habitation, there’s something…sad to all of it."
"Roy?"
"Yeah?"
"There’s someone in there," informed Bill, pointing to the large glass front of the building. "And I don’t think they’re a vamp."
Roy turned to see a lone, dark figure standing within the structure, his details lost in the distance despite that he was within the light. The man turned and moved back into the shadows of the interior, bringing yells from the two men.
The two men raced towards the building, half way there when the mysterious man reappeared, now brandishing a machine gun. Bill and Roy came to an abrupt stop, waiting hesitantly to see what the man would do next.
They did not have to wait long.
The man opened fire on the pair, the two glass walls separating him from his targets smashing down with a thunderous crash. The bullets tore up the ground, making a trail for Roy and Bill as the man drew a bead on them.
Bill dropped to one knee, raised his rifle and fired, hitting the man at least once before Roy joined in. The two’s combined shots quickly brought the man down, the sun to their backs having given them a slight advantage.
The rush of adrenaline still making him shake slightly, Bill released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He turned towards Roy, and was gripped by fear when he saw that his friend was lying face down on the ground, a small puddle of blood forming around him.
* * * * *
Ron floored the pickup through the mostly deserted streets, few obstacles in his way as he raced along Broad Street, heading for a gun shop that he had picked out of the phone book. He had found several corner quickie marts, snatching up all of the canned food he could find. Some jugs of water, and a case of beer, finished out the food part of his shopping spree, weapons and ammo next on the list.
The pickup fishtailed as he rounded a corner at fifty, laughing wildly the entire time. He hadn’t had this much fun since he had been arrested, rotting in that crummy little Mayberry jail until the Preacher had found him. He almost sobered at that thought, realizing that he owed his life to the man, but he pushed those thoughts away, anxious to have his fun while he could.
Pushing the pickup even harder, he snapped the wheel around as he took another corner, the vehicle nearly rising up on two wheels in response. Ron’s crackling laugh caught in his throat as he heard a boom, the truck suddenly lurching right. He fought to regain control of the pickup, the truck careening wildly out of control in response to the high speed blow out.
Ron managed to straighten out the pickup just in time to see a building rushing up before him. The impact slammed him forward, only the air bag saving his life, the front of the truck crumbling up like a pop can. The back end jumped five feet into the air, dropping back down with a crash that spilled glass and bits of metal.
White stars swimming in a black sea, Ron was dimly aware of an annoying buzzing sound ringing in his ears. Pain, sharp and clear, shot through his back and neck to end up hammering at his head. Through the splintered windshield he could see the cracked, grey block of the building he had run into, then things blurred to blackness.
* * * * *
Diane gasped for air, as if coming up after having been under water for too long, and was surprised to realize that she was still alive. Her other senses began relaying other information to her, and she could tell that she wasn’t alone. She slowly opened her eyes, hoping that her last memories were a nightmare, and stared in astonishment at the sight which greeted her.
She was laying on a pile of straw, surrounded by dozens of…people! Not vamps, not black-clad blood suckers come to take her away, but actual people. She sat up, ignoring the wave of nausea that swept over her, and tried to stand.
"I wouldn’t do that just yet," spoke a voice next to her.
Diane turned to see an older woman setting beside her, dressed in rags and smelling of urine and filth. Alarm bells began going off in Diane’s head as she started looking at the other people, seeing that they were all in similar condition to the lady next to her.
"Drug should wear off soon enough, but it feel like a New Year’s Eve hangover," added the woman.
"Where am I?" asked Diane. "What is this place?"
"You’re in the pen. It’s a pen. We all are in the pen."
"What are you talking about? I was shot…"
"Tranquilizer. They don’t want to damage the food."
"Food?" asked Diane, still not following what the woman was telling her.
"Boy, you haven’t been around have you," replied the woman, stating a fact. "This is a pen, dearie. We’re kept here for food. The younger you are, the longer you’ll live. That is, as long as you can breed."
Diane stared straight ahead, the realization of where she was sinking in.
"Comes The Night"
Bill was relieved to find that Roy’s injury was not fatal, a lone bullet had torn through his upper left arm, leaving a ragged hole and spilling a fair amount of blood. Bill cut the sleeve off of his jacket and used it for a tourniquet, stanching the flow of blood as Roy became semi-conscious.
"I know you ain’t no doctor," spoke Roy as Bill helped him sit up. "But how bad did it look?"
"It went clean through, but we’re going to have to find some antibiotics for you, and some real bandages. I don’t have any idea about stitches, though."
"Soldering gun," replied Roy. "We can cauterize it."
"I’m really starting to wonder about you, Father."
"Don’t worry, I’ve seen many rebel soldiers do it for field dressings. Some times it’s the only choice you’ve got."
"Exactly what missionary services did you perform?" asked Bill, thinking that he was really only acting on faith, accepting what ever the others told him.
"Mostly in third world countries," replied Roy, rising groggily to his feet. "I usually ended up in areas where there was a lot of fighting going on."
Roy’s knees buckled and Bill had to grab him to keep him standing. Bill helped Roy along, directing him back to the copter, then had to actually pick him up and place him in the passenger section. Considering Roy weighed nearly two hundred, and Bill was in less than perfect shape, it was not a task easily done.
"Stay with me, Father," coaxed Bill, grabbing a blanket from under the seat and covering Roy with it. "I think you’re going into shock, you need to keep talking."
"Radio Ron," gasped Roy, his breath getting a little shallow. "We’ve got no choice, we need to get out of here."
"Okay, but keep talking so I know you’re still with me, okay?"
Roy nodded and started singing in almost a whisper, bringing a smile to Bill’s face. Bill climbed into the pilot’s seat, turned on the electronics of the copter, and began calling on the frequency they had all agreed to use.
"They’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love…" came Roy’s soft hymn.
"Come in land," called Bill, thankful he had remembered the code names they had decided to use. They knew the vamps could be monitoring them and they didn’t want to give the creatures any more information about their group than they had to. "Air to land, come in land."
After five minutes, Bill was beginning to get worried. He knew Ron was a self centered jerk, but the man had help develop this plan in case of an emergency, he should have had his radio on. Figures he’d let us down, damn it! Thought Bill, his anger with Ron rising up again.
Roy had quieted, the fact suddenly hitting him, and Bill moved to check on the man. Asleep, at least Bill hoped that was all he was, Roy was once again breathing steadily and soundly, his bleeding apparently having stopped. He had no idea what he was going to do now, but he knew he had better come up with something soon.
Looking about the area, hoping for some divine indication of what he should do, Bill’s gaze fell on the still form of the man that had fired on them. No one else had come from inside to investigate, a good sign that the man had been alone, and a myriad of questions began running through his head.
Why did this guy shoot at us? Who is he? Is this place filled with sleeping vamps? Do the vamps have human servants like in the old movies? Is there anything in there that we can use?
"Car keys?" wondered Bill, aloud.
He ran to the closest vehicle and peered inside, not surprised to find no keys in the ignition. Two more similar discoveries confirmed his theory that the keys for the vehicles must be inside, hopefully organized or labeled in some manner.
It was just a little after three, at least four or five hours of sunlight left, and Bill made up his mind. He reloaded his rifle, grabbed a .45 from their small stockpile, and headed towards the building. He would waste no more than two hours searching the place, hopefully leaving enough time that he could get Roy to the distant stand of trees on the other side of the large parking lot where they could wait out the night.
* * * * *
Ron felt as if someone was smacking him in the head with a baseball bat, a feeling he had experienced before, and slowly opened his eyes in anticipation of finding himself in the middle of a bar fight. He groaned as the memories came flooding back, realizing that it was not a dream, he was in a world overrun by vampires.
He looked at his watch, the darkening shadows causing him to fear that he had missed the rendezvous with the others back at the airport. He cursed when he saw that it was broken, the crystal shattered and one of the arms missing.
That’s okay, he thought. I’ll radio them and they can pick me up.
He reached down, painfully, and grabbed the handle of the portable radio to set it on the seat next to him. The handle came up easily, part of the radio casing hanging onto it, but the rest of it a pile of broken pieces. He slammed the handle down, cursing, then threw it through the open passenger window.
"It’s because I give the preacher so much crap, isn’t it?" he asked, looking upwards.
Ron had to force his door open, slamming his shoulder into it a few times before it finally began to budge with a creaking resistance. He found that he had a greater problem when he went to get out; his leg was pinned by the smashed dashboard. A whole slew of profanities escaped his mouth this time, cursing everyone and everything, as he smashed his fists against the crumpled dash.
A wave of nausea washed over him, and he knew he was still in no shape to be carrying on like he had. Venting his anger had just depleted some of his strength, leaving him in worse shape than before. He had to calm down and think. He had to figure away of his predicament soon, the shadows were growing deeper.
Looking around the cab of the truck for anything that could help him, Ron saw his shotgun laying between the seat and the passenger door. Leaning over as far as his pinned leg would allow him too, Ron’s fingers barely touched the stock of the weapon. Taking off his belt, he looped it then lassoed the end of the gun. Using gentle tugs, Ron was able to inch the shotgun around the seat so that it fell towards him.
Retrieving the shotgun, Ron ejected the shells from it, then stuck the barrel down beside his leg. He wanted to use the shotgun as a crowbar but he didn’t want to blow his foot off in the process. Sweating profoundly, straining with all of his strength, Ron budged the shattered dash enough that he was able to pull his leg out from the twisted metal.
Ron grimaced as he saw that his leg had a nasty gash in it, his jeans ripped from his knee past the cuff to show the ragged wound. He then realized that he had been out for a while, the blood on the gash had already dried to start forming a scab.
How much time did he have left before sunset? He doubted that it was much, his own sense of time conveying that much to him. He had to get to cover, find some place to hide out the night.
Climbing out of the truck, grimacing as pain shot up his leg, Ron looked around at his surroundings, hoping to spot a decent looking place to hole up in. Most of the buildings were stores or service outlets, and he decided that one was as good as another. He tried the closest business, a copy/fax/mail service place, and was glad to find it unlocked.
Does that mean they’re already in here? he thought. I’ve got to quit second guessing everything!
Ron made a quick survey of the establishment, satisfied that it was empty, then began trying to figure out how he would hide himself. The business was just a small part of the first floor of a tall building, about twenty-five stories, and Ron found a door in the back of the shop marked ‘Maintenance’. The door was secured with a heavy lock, but like most businesses, the key was hanging right next to it.
The door opened on a small hallway and Ron followed it, his flashlight illuminating the hall in whiteness. He soon came to a room barely bigger than the hall, three more doors located there. The only door not locked from the other side was one that gave access to stairs heading down, Ron’s light unable to reach the bottom.
Trudging down the metal steps, Ron found himself in the large basement of the building, the entire area filled with mazes of pipe and machinery. Following the main isle through the pipes, Ron came upon a sort of office, just setting in a wide open space.
Several file cabinets sat next to a large desk, over which was draped a body. A closer examination revealed it to be the corpse of a man, probably a maintenance worker, and that he had died from a self inflicted gun shot to the head. Ron pried the gun from the nearly skeletal fingers and added it to his inventory.
Three large, metal cabinets sat to one side of the work area, and Ron stepped over to inspect their contents. He found only tools, cleaning solvents, and cans of oil. The items were exactly what he needed to help hide himself for the evening.
Moving deeper into the maze of pipes, Ron climbed into a thick grouping of the metal tubes and sunk down behind them. Removing the lid on one of the cans of oil he had taken from the cabinet, Ron began pouring it over himself. He doused his pants, his shirt, and even his hair. He wiped it over his arms, hands, and face, hoping that the heavy scent would mask his own.
Down here, among all of the machinery of the building, saturated in oil, he doubted that any passing vamps would scent him out. It had worked with the buck scent in the woods, so he figured it would work just as good here.
Of course eight hours spent cramped up between a bunch of cold pipes in the dark wasn’t going to be much of a picnic either.
* * * * *
"It’ll be feeding time soon," said an anorexic looking man next to Diane.
She had spent the last few hours walking around the pen, finding that it was nothing more than the floor of some stadium, covered with piles of straw and filled with several portable pits for fires. What light was given off from the fires showed a twelve foot high wall encircling the floor, the many exit doors fully secured from the other side.
"How many of us will they take?" asked Diane.
"Depends how many of them are here tonight," he replied, turning to look at her with sunken eyes. "Sometimes only a few, other times…."
"Obstacles Faced"
The large halls of the arena were ominously quite, a state that grated on Bill’s nerves as he cautiously made his way through the structure. The body of their attacker had proven to be fully human; even had an ID on him that stated he was a FBI agent. What in the hell he was doing here in Columbus, apparently guarding what Bill and Roy feared might be a vamp nest, was anyone’s guess. Bill had relieved the corpse of it’s machine gun, glad for the extra firepower, and started his search.
Directly inside the entrance was a ticket/customer center, a quick search showing that it held nothing useful except for a small first aid kit and a flashlight. Bill took both, heading deeper into the building in hopes of finding an office or, better yet, a nurse’s station. He was going to need more than what the first aid kit offered if he was going to do Roy any good.
Bill had been keeping to the center of the wide hall, shining his light back and forth to check for doors. He had passed nothing but closed concession stands and entrances to the stadium, and was beginning to think that it was a lost cause when his foot bumped something. Aiming the light down, he was surprised to see that it was a hand, attached to an arm that faded into the darkness. He trailed the arm with the light and found that was safely connected to a body.
An ice cold terror griped him and he nearly dropped the light, biting on his free hand to keep himself from screaming. It was a vampire, sleeping along the edge of the wall, laying on some scattered dirt. The vamp was wearing only jeans, his shirt and shoes setting neatly next to his head.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Bill cursed silently, his light showing a similar pile of clothes at the feet of the vamp.
Moving the light further down, following the edge of the wall, Bill found a second vamp. And a third. And a fourth. And a fifth…
The entire hall was lined with sleeping vamps, most of them only wearing their pants as they slept on top of loosely piled dirt, even the females. Sweat was streaming down his face, his hand trembling enough that the beam of light was bouncing around as he turned to check the other side of the hall.
More vamps lined the opposite wall, all of them laid out like their brethren. His vision was blurring, his eyes filling with his own sweat, and the hall suddenly became unbearably hot. Panic nearly griped him, his mind screaming at him to turn and run from the building before the vamps awoke, but he fought it down, asserting to himself that he had at least two hours before dark.
But do they know that? His mind screamed back at him as he clicked off the light, afraid that even the dim glow of the flashlight would waken them.
"And I’m telling you I heard gunfire," came a voice from far ahead.
Bill could make out the glow of a flashlight coming from a bend further up the hallway. Someone was coming, probably comrades to the man he and Roy had shot, and there was no way he could get out of there without them seeing him.
"Probably Chuck shooting at birds again," replied another voice.
"If he is, I’ll have his ass working the pen," said the first voice.
"Speaking of which, we’re suppose to be getting them ready. I don’t think Mathias will be too happy with us if he has to wait for us to open the arena so they can feed."
"We got plenty of time. Hell, they sleep like the dead until sundown!" The man laughed at his own joke, his buddy joining in as they continued down the hall.
Bill felt the light shine on him, quickly passing as the two guards headed for the main entrance. When the footfalls had grown faint enough, he rolled away from the vamp he had laid down next to, fighting with all of us will to keep from screaming. Rising to his feet, he began trailing after the two men, trying to come up with some idea of what he was going to do.
The men would soon find their slain friend, and the helicopter, setting outside with Roy unconscious in the back of it. The men would either kill or capture his friend, assuming that he was on his own.
Bill didn’t know if he could take both of them, but he knew he had to try. He figured he at least had the element of surprise on his side, since he was now behind the two, but he was doubting his skills. He wasn’t even sure which one of them had shot the first guard; him or Roy.
I’ve got to, he thought. Roy doesn’t stand a chance unless I do something.
* * * * *
Images floated through Ron’s mind, scenes from his past that flowed with the incoherent energy of dreams. He saw himself and the Preacher, finding his brother Jim holed up in their old house. He saw the trio spending the night fighting off most of the former population of their little town. He saw them finding Diane, on her knees in the yard in front of her house, the staked bodies of her husband and daughter inside. He saw the Preacher killing a vamp with his faith, his silver cross glowing brightly as the creature cringed in terror, bursting into flame.
He saw Jim getting torn into by dozens of vamps, though it had not happened that way, his mind magnifying the emptiness that he now felt. He saw Jim’s blooded corpse floating in a pool of blackness, his eyes popping open to stare his still living brother down.
Ron jerked, the image wakening him from his sleep, and stared about the darkness in confusion. He knew he hadn’t been out long, passing out from exhaustion brought on by his recent ordeal, and he closed his eyes once again.
"This is going to be a long, friggin’ night," he muttered.
* * * * *
"How can you people let this happen!" screamed Diane at the milling crowd.
Most of them ignored her, having been a food source for the vamps so long that they were little more than shells of their former human selves. A few, the healthier looking ones, did return her stare. She could see fear in their eyes, but also shame and humiliation at their own lack of will.
"We need to get out of this place," she continued, directing herself at those still listening. "We can reach the top of this wall if we work together. There has to be a way out of here."
"It’s no use," croaked a whited haired man. His features were severely weathered, apparently having spent a lot of previous life outdoors, and he seemed to be in his late sixties. His skin had that old, loose look of someone that had lost a lot of weight as they had grown older.
"And how do you know that? How can you be so sure that there’s no way out up there?"
"Because I’ve been up there," he replied, his eyes growing wide with excitement. "Do you think we haven’t tried? I was up there, searching every nook and cranny for the first two months that I was here! It’s nothing but seating. Rows and rows of seating for this damn place."
"Not to be cruel, sir, but someone of your age…"
"I’m thirty-two," informed the man, trying to stand proud. "This is what six months here will do to you, too."
Diane fought down her shock, she had to maintain her composure if she was going to get any of these…people…to help her. She had a plan, but she would need help. Help to reach the top of the wall, and help to set an ambush for their soon to be arriving diners.
"Do you want to see thirty-three?" asked Diane, keeping her voice full of determination. "I’ve been fighting these bastards for the last three months, and I know how we can beat them."
"Confrontations"
Bill sped up his pursuit of the two guards, eager to catch them before they exited the building, hoping that the soft thumping of his sneakers only seemed loud. The darkness was beginning to recede, and Bill knew he was drawing close to the entrance, just past a curved bend in the hall. He drew himself up to the curve cautiously, slowly peering around to spy what the two men were doing. Their voices came to him clearly, full of hostility and fear, echoing through the hallway loudly.
"Shit, man. Mathias is going to be pissed," came the voice of man number one.
"What are you bitchin’ about?" asked man number two. "You’re his second favorite. With Chuck gone, that makes you number one."
"This ain’t funny, Gary."
"Bite me, Steve."
"How about I suggest that to Mathias?" asked Steve.
Gary just glared at him, holding his tongue. He knew when Steve was in serious mode, and now was not the time to mess with him. Not when the man was going to be the new Lieutenant for the Master of this Region.
"Maybe now Mathias will listen to me when I tell him we need radios. He might not trust us, but, damn it, we need to be able to do what he wants."
"So what do we do?" asked Gary.
"I’ll wait here, you go around to the south end and get the others and bring them back. We’ll start searching for the shooter then."
"Hey, that ain’t one of ours," said Gary, pointing out at the helicopter setting a few meters from the entrance.
"Shit, no it ain’t," agreed Steve. "Okay, let’s check it out first."
Now, now, now, now! thought Bill.
"Aaaaaaaagggghhhh!", he screamed, stepping around the bend and opening up with the machine gun he had taken off the fallen Chuck. The gun boomed rapidly, it’s roar deafening in the close confines, it’s shots tearing through the hallway.
Bits of glass, wood, concrete, plaster, and metal jumped through out the area as the slugs tore up the place, a small could of dust blossoming into existence. The machine gun clicked empty, and Bill let off the trigger, his eyes wide and his heart beating thunderously in his ears.
Steve and Gary were still standing. The two men were hunched over slightly, covering their heads with their arms, but they appeared to have been completely untouched by the volley of rounds that had ricocheted through the entrance way.
"You stupid shit," cursed Steve, straightening to face Bill.
"You are so fucking dead," added Gary, grabbing at the sub machine gun hanging at his side.
The two men raised their weapons, and took aim. Bill squeezed his eyes shut, praying silently as he waited to be blown to hell. The expected burp of the machine guns never came, just two rapid booms penetrating his senses instead.
Bill opened one eye to see the two men sprawled on the floor, both missing a significant portion of their skull. Blood and grey matter were splattered on the wall, the pair of them having been shot by someone outside.
Roy stepped through the shattered glass of the entrance way, his trusty .357 in hand as he smiled at Bill.
"Oh, God, I thought I was dead," thanked Bill. "I thought you were out cold."
"Kinda hard to sleep through all that gunfire."
"Sorry about that. I can’t believe I missed them, I was using a damn machine gun."
"Doesn’t matter how many shots you get off if you can’t aim," chided Roy. "Guess that’s something else we’re going to have to work on with you."
"Nest! This is a nest!" said Bill, remembering what he had found just down the hall. "I saw a lot of them, sleeping in the halls."
"Vamps?" asked Roy in disbelief.
Bill just nodded in confirmation.
"And none of this woke them up?"
"Are you kidding? I had to lay down next to one when these guys showed up!"
"We don’t have much time, we’ve got to do something," said Roy.
"Like what? You’re in no shape to be doing much of anything, Father," countered Bill. "I can’t get Ron on the radio, and we need to get out of here before sunset."
"We can’t pass up this opportunity, Bill! So many of them in one spot, we have to at least try and kill some of them."
"How? With what? You just want to walk through the hall, staking them as we go? News flash, we don’t have enough stakes. Besides, I heard these two guys talking, and there’s more of them around here. More human guards."
"I’m well enough to fly, we’ll be able to get out of here quick, so don’t worry about that. What we need to do is start with those police vehicles. The big trucks."
"Start what with them?"
"Searching them. Explosives, Bill. I know that many of the special units carried explosives with them. Not a lot, but with the number of vehicles here, we should be able to round up quite a bit."
Bill glanced at his watch then back at Roy. "Damn, Father, but you’re going to get us killed."
"That sounds hypocritical coming from someone who was ready to take their own life just two days ago."
"Let’s do it," agreed Bill, resigning himself from further argument.
* * * * *
"Why does the Captain always make us search the basements?" came a deep voice that broke Ron out of his slumber.
"Probably because you bitch so much about it, Kawolski," replied a female voice.
Ron sat up as best he could, pain shooting through his leg as he used it to brace himself. His vision was slightly blurred, and he could tell that he was running a fever, but he could make the glow of lights from somewhere else in the basement. He had only heard a few vamps talk before, and none of them had sounded as normal as the two voices he was hearing now.
"This is a waste of time," complained Kawolski. "Come on, Shirl, let’s get back topside."
"Quit you bitchin’, would you?"
Two forms came into view, their images hazy, but slowly coming into focus as they neared his position. Ron propped his shotgun up between two pipes, keeping it trained on the approaching couple. He had a nagging feeling that maybe they weren’t vamps, but he had no way of being sure. He knew the shotgun wouldn’t kill them, but at least it would damage them enough that he should be able to escape.
"If anybody had told me that, two years after joining the army, I’d be sweeping buildings looking for survivors or vamps, I’d bought them another beer and told them to shut the hell up."
"You talk too much, Kawolski," retorted Shirl.
Ron could now make out that they were wearing green army fatigues, armed with M16s and crossbows, and each sporting a weapons harness that was covered with stakes and crosses.
"Humans!" cried Ron, painfully standing up within his cramped hiding place.
"Shit!", yelled Kawolski, bringing up his crossbow and firing into the spread of pipes that Ron was standing in.
With a wet thud the bolt tore into Ron, and punctured the pipe behind him, pinning him there.
"Aaaaaaahhhh!" screamed Ron. "You stupid shit!"
"Stand down, Kawolski," ordered Shirl, running towards Ron. "Can’t you even tell a damn vamp from a human yet?"
"Ah, shit, that hurts!" Ron grabbed the bolt and tried to pull it out, at least to free himself from being stuck to the pipe, but he didn’t have the strength. He was too weak from his previous injuries. "Get this damn thing out of me."
"Hold on," offered Shirl, slipping into the tight space to help him. She looked the injury over for a moment, then got a firm grip on the bolt. "This is going to hurt."
"Like it doesn’t already!" yelled Ron. "Just get…Aaaaaaahhhhh!"
Shirl jerked the bolt cleanly out of the pipe, and Ron’s shoulder, freeing him so that he could slump down in delirium. She grabbed him under his arms and held him up, turning him so that Kawolski could pull him out from the other side.
"I hate you," mumbled Ron to Kawolski as the soldier helped him out.
"Sorry, buddy," offered Kawolski, feeling like shit already. He felt that way not because he had shot a human, but because he knew he was going to get one hell of an ass chewing from his CO. "It was an accident."
"How…how’d you find me?" asked Ron as the two helped him thread his way through the basement.
"Are you kidding?" asked Shirl. "You left a pretty clear trail of blood. I really didn’t think we’d find you alive."
"Getting sloppy," muttered Ron.
"You’re pretty banged up there, guy," pointed Kawolski. "Probably didn’t even notice it, did ya?"
"Just take it easy," instructed Shirl. "We’ll get you back to base and the doc’ll take care of everything."
Ron decided to follow the woman’s advice. He really didn’t have much of choice in the matter, his brain shutting down yet again. His world went black as he felt himself being carried up the stairs, and he hoped that he would wake up again.
* * * * *
The arena consisted of eight levels, each containing rows of seats four deep, the top two levels of which were now on fire. Diane had managed to rally five to help her, forming a human pyramid to help her reach to the top of the arena floor’s wall. They had then gathered up bushels of straw, setting it ablaze with the pits, and passed it up to their newest ‘leader’.
Diane had run up the concrete stairs, reaching the top row in just a few minutes, and set the chairs on fire. Throwing the handfuls of straw about on the chairs had helped the fire spread quickly, and soon the entire section was glowing red. Bits of plastic and other material that ran along the ceiling, close to the fire, had also caught, spreading slowly along their strung out patterns.
The small bits of fire burning on the ceiling suddenly blazed up, the flame having reached huge, black curtains that had been rolled completely up. The curtains burnt rapidly, their bindings snapping from the flames and heat. Like a plummeting meteor, the flaming mass of curtain fell from the ceiling trailing red hot embers and smoke.
Panic ripped through the people in the pit, screams crying out as they raced for the sides of the pen, seeking shelter. One end of the curtain’s binding still held it in place, swinging the burning bundle away from the pen and towards one of the large, sealed door ways to the arena.
The stretch of binding snapped with an audible twang, the fire ball smashing into, and through, the metal doors. The crash was horrendous, the doors screeching out in protest as they were knocked open, chains and braced poles shattering on the other side of them. The opening was a tinged red from piles of burning debris, the human’s means of escape clearly lit for them.
"Come on!" yelled Diane, leaning down over the wall.
The corralled people rushed to her spot, trampling one another in their desperation to escape. The mob fought each other to be first, each person fighting to be the first to reach up to the waiting woman. Diane saw one lady get knocked violently aside, the woman’s eyes looking up emptily from where she had landed, the blow having killed her.
"Stop it!" screamed Diane, withdrawing her hand. "STOP IT!"
The crowd quieted some, a few of them still leaping vainly to try and get a grasp on the edge of the wall. Those few finally quit their pointless struggle, staring about in confusion as to what they were suppose to do.
"You have to work together," directed Diane. "We can all get out of here, but you need to help each other."
The group began nodding, agreeing with her logic, but then started clamoring at the sides, each certain they should be first.
"No! The weakest first, you have to help push them up," she shouted.
"Listen to her!" shouted the man that Diane had mistaken for being in his 60’s.
"The woman first," order Diane, once again leaning over the wall.
Three of the men gathered below Diane’s position, directing people to them. The frail looking woman that had been there when Diane awoke was the first. The men worked together, picking her up and lifting her toward Diane’s outstretched hand. The woman’s fingers were just brushing Diane’s when a violent wind swept over them, the woman screaming as she rose into the blotchy darkness.
The humans flocked away from their positions, many of them screaming in terror. Diane watched in shocked confusion as the woman’s body came to a halt, far up towards the ceiling, dimly lit by the patches of fire that were still spreading.
"Oh, God," gasped Diane, the red glow allowing her to see how the woman had been snatched away to fly into the air.
A massive black shape was holding onto the woman, held in place by the flapping of huge, leathery wings. It wore the remnants of shredded clothing, obviously having recently been human in appearance, but now so much more.
Red eyes that were mere slits stared down at her, it’s entire hide seeming like a thick, black leather. It’s hands and feet were tipped with sharp looking claws, points of blood flowing from the woman where the it currently dug into her to hold her.
The creature bent obscenely, it’s feet latching onto the woman at her hips so that it held her completely. The vamp twisted right with it’s hands and left with it’s feet, ripping the woman apart at the waist, and let the pieces of her body drop to the arena floor.
"None shall escape me!" roared the floating abomination.
"Out With A Bang?"
Roy hobbled along the hallway, stopping every few dozen feet to plant a prepackaged explosive charge. The charges, roughly the size of an 8mm video, were designed to blow one foot holes in reinforced doors. He hoped they would have the same effect on the outer walls of the arena, letting in what little bit of sunlight was left. He had no delusions about taking the whole place out, he just wanted to get as many vamps as possible.
On the next level up, Bill was counting off steps, trying to keep his charges placed approximately above Roy’s. To say his nerves were on edge would have been an understatement. His shirt was already drenched in sweat, his hand constantly wiping at his eyes to clear his vision. Vamps lined the hall, and no matter what he had previously witnessed, he was certain that they would wake any moment, disturbed by his intrusion, and feast upon him.
Placing his last charge on the wall and activating it’s remote detonator, Bill turned to retrace his steps when he was thrown to the floor by an explosive crash just a few feet behind him. One of the many arena entrance doors, that had been chained up and braced with rods of steel, had been knocked down from the other side by a huge fire ball of burning material.
"Oh, shit," cursed Bill, sprawled face down on the floor. He laid there, unmoving, anticipating being attacked any moment.
Seconds seemed to pass like hours, his only vision the black blotch of floor that he was starring down at. Ever so slowly, Bill raised his head, not believing what he was seeing. Chunks of burning material were spread throughout the hall, a number of them on or against sleeping vamps that still did not rise. He could see three bodies that were fully engulfed in flame, several more that were beginning to catch from fallen embers.
A tremendous wind whipped through the hall, a large black shape shooting by faster than Bill could follow. The shape abruptly turned, disappearing through the now open entrance to the arena. The shape could have only been a vamp, but it was faster than any Bill had ever seen.
And flying?
None of the others had mentioned hearing, or seeing, that they could do that. They knew from experience that the newer the vamp, the slower it was, but it had only been a year. Who knew what kind of powers they developed after time? How much of the old legends were true? What did this do for their chances of survival?
"Bill?" called Father Cameron, his shape visible in the red glow of the flaming piles.
"Yeah," answered Bill, standing up.
"I don’t believe it," whispered Roy, looking about at the still sleeping vamps that were burning to death. "Even this ain’t waking them up."
"They can fly."
"What?"
"They can fly. Or, at least, one of them can. It flew in there," said Bill, pointing towards the ruined door. "Fast. Very fast."
"We’ve got to see it," stated Roy.
"Are you crazy?" Bill nearly yelled. "We have to get out of here!"
"Then go. I don’t expect you to stay, but I have to see it."
Bill looked like he wanted to scream. He was waving his fists about, clenching his teeth to keep from yelling the obscenities that were boiling up within him. He spun around once, letting out a gnarled growl.
"Ahhhhhhkay," finished Bill, turning the growl into an affirmative. "Make it quick.."
The two men crept through the smashed doors, halting in surprise as the scene which greeted them. A woman, torn into two pieces, was dropping through the air, killed by the winged creature that hung in the air. Diane stood at the edge of a concrete barrier, the arena below her filled with humans screaming out in terror.
"None shall escape me!" roared the vamp.
Three rapid booms rang out, the creature rocking slightly from the slugs that tore into it. Roy had pulled his gun and fired his last three shots, knowing that it wouldn’t kill the vamp but hoping, at least, to incapacitate it for a few minutes. Laughing at the men, the vamp dove at them, Roy dropping his gun and reaching into his jacket in response.
Roy pulled a large, silver cross out of his inner pocket, the metal glowing brighter as the vamp drew nearer. The vamp drew it self up short of the men, hovering in the air just a few feet away from them, sneering in contempt.
"A Holy Man," hissed the vamp. "We though you all dead."
Roy stepped forward, the cross glowing brighter, and vamp floated back a little, it’s massive wings beating rapidly. It’s eyes narrowed, starring back at Roy with unbridled hatred.
"What are you?" asked Roy, not really expecting an answer.
"I am the one that will see your body hanging from the cross of your God, Holy Man!"
"I didn’t think I’d see any of you guys again," said Diane, her eyes filling with tears as she ran up to meet them. "We’ve got to get these people out of here!"
"What’s going on?" asked Bill. "What the hell is this place?"
"A stock yard," she replied. "They keep them here for food."
"Get them out of there," ordered Roy, his voice taking on an angry tone that Bill didn’t think the man had been be capable of. "Get them out of there now."
Roy kept the vamp at bay while Bill and Diane went to help the others. Bill dropped down into the arena and helped lift the others up, Diane pulling them up from above. Considering the condition of the people, most of them nothing but skin and bones, it didn’t take them long. Within ten minutes they had over two dozen refugees huddled about the walkway, still cowering before the sight of the hovering vamp.
"We can’t have much time left, Roy," said Bill, climbing up over the wall with Diane’s help.
"Then why wait?" Roy pulled the remote detonator out of his pocket. "Get going, I’ll keep Dracula here."
Bill and Diane began directing the people through the smashed doors, Bill leading the way through the sleeping vamps in the hall. The group emerged outdoors, only half the sun visible in the distant horizon, and the people began panicking.
"Now what?" cried one.
"Where can we hide?" asked another.
The cries of confusion and terror were quieted as a series of explosions ripped along the side of the arena, five foot holes left in the aftermath. Sunlight flooded into the structure, popping sounds barely audible as the vamps struck by the invading light burst into flames.
"What about Roy?" asked Diane, staring back at the smoking building.
"The explosions weren’t that big, he should be okay," answered Bill, not sounding too certain himself.
* * * * *
"We found another one, Sir," reported Corporal Shirley Bennings to her commanding officer. "He’s banged up pretty good, but there was no indication that he had been tainted."
"We just got a report from Atlanta," spoke Captain Bemiller, looking up from the papers spread out on his desk. "Two days ago they picked up a man that was badly injured and took him in. He died from extensive internal injuries yesterday afternoon. By nightfall he had turned, managing to take out three fourths of the personnel before they stopped him."
"Good God," gasped Shirl. "How in the hell could a new vamp do that? Didn’t they find any marks?"
"They think he was tainted by a Master, then nursed back to health so that the marks wouldn’t show. Then he was beat nearly to death and left to be found."
"You don’t think…"
"Run the test on him, now," instructed the Captain. "Tell the Doc that if he can’t get results before sunset, then we’re going to terminate the guy."
"Captain, that hardly seems…"
"The longer you argue, the less time Doc has to do the test, Corporal."
Shirl nodded then returned Bemiller’s salute of dismissal. Stepping out of the Captain's office, she offered only a glance at Kawolski, who was standing outside awaiting his turn.
"Thanks for not telling him," whispered Kawolski, referring to his having shot the man by accident.
"I expect you to do that," she replied with out stopping.
"Genocide"
Kawolski stepped before his commanding officer and saluted, standing at attention while Captain Bemiller continued to scan over the multitude of papers spread over his desk. Kawolski kept turning the events of their search and rescue over in his head, knowing full well that he was in the wrong for having nailed the civvie. He really didn’t think he should be held accountable, they were living in very dangerous times. Hell, the fact that any of them were still alive was a miracle in it self.
"Private," acknowledged the Captain, giving the unspoken ‘at ease’ to the soldier. "How would you rate your recent search missions?"
"Very successful, sir. This week alone we’ve managed to locate and recruit ten new people."
"And today’s mission?" asked the Captain, Kawolski realizing that the man already knew the details. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t.
"Uh, well, not bad, Sir. Uh, that is, other than shooting the civilian, Sir."
"A shoulder shot, wasn’t it?"
"Uh, yes, Sir. It was."
"Pretty sloppy work, soldier."
"Sir, with all due respect, the man surprised us. He was hiding in some pipes, it was very dark. He jumped up, yelled ‘humans’ and I reacted."
"Like I said, sloppy. If he had been a vamp, then you and Corporal Bennings would be dead right now. Next time, you had better aim for the heart."
"Sir?"
"This isn’t some Mid-eastern skirmish, Kawolski. We’re fighting for the very continuation of the human race. Some times innocents will die, it’s a fact of war."
"Yes, Sir. I understand that, Sir."
"Make sure you do. Our resources are thin enough as it is without us having to nurse the wounded back to health. We’re not a med squad, we’ve got other priorities."
Any reply that Kawolski would have made was interrupted by a knock at the Captain’s door. Bemiller called out for them to enter and a Private entered the office, a portable communications unit in tow. He set the PCU down on the Captain’s desk then saluted, waiting recognition.
"What is it, Private?" asked the Captain. If he was annoyed, it wasn’t evident in his tone.
"Sir, Corporal Hicks believes he’s found the nest," informed the Private, his voice a little high pitched with excitement.
"Damn," cursed Bemiller, glancing at his watch. "We’ll have to wait until morning to launch an assault, there isn’t enough time left now."
"Uh, we might not have a choice, Sir," added the Private. "Corporal Hicks wishes to discuss the situation with you, Sir."
Bemiller eyed the Private with suspicion, pissed that the young man didn’t have the balls to give him the news himself. He grabbed the microphone off of the PCU and began demanding to know what was going on.
"Bravo Team, Sir," came Hicks’s voice in reply. "Grid twenty-seven, Sir. We’ve just witnessed an explosion at Gunther Arena. We can see several people out front of the building, Sir. Humans."
"Looters?"
"No, I don’t think so, Sir. An aerial sweep done two days ago showed this place to be mostly deserted. There’s several hundred vehicles here now."
"It’s almost nightfall, Hicks," said the Captain, though Hicks was well aware of that fact since he was the one outdoors still. "We can’t get support to you in time to do anything."
"Sir, we’ve got ample room for these people, plus our air support is still in the area. We can get them out of there before it’s too late."
"You really want to face off against a nest, Corporal? If you can get them out, fine. If not then get your asses underground before it’s too late."
"Affirmative, Sir. Request permission to level the arena."
"Given. And Corporal, don’t forget directive one."
When acknowledgement did not come immediately, Bemiller stressed his orders once more to the leader of Bravo Team.
"Directive One, Corporal. Do we have a problem with that?"
"No, Sir."
"We lock down in half an hour, whether you’ve returned or not."
"Affirmative. Bravo Team out."
Bemiller dismissed the two men in his office, not wanting to face any of these weaklings at the moment. He was beginning to wonder if any of them realized how close humanity was to the black abyss of extinction. General Brightton knew, he alone had the correct plan for dealing with this matter. That pansy ass President and his advisors, safe in their bunker in the Rockys, might not have the guts to do what was necessary, but the General did.
Others were beginning to agree with the General’s views. Others, like Bemiller, who were out in the field and knew they were fighting a war that would take too long to win the conventional way. He only hoped that they could get organized in time to make a difference. Let them have their little victories for now, their rescue missions. Soon the General would make his move, when their numbers were strong enough, then the world would see a truly new order come into existence.
Bemiller just hoped these weak-kneed, people-loving bastards wouldn’t get him killed before the time came.
* * * * *
Roy came stumbling out of the thick dust cloud, choking and coughing as he nearly tripped over pieces of shattered wall. He didn’t look too worse for the wear, other than some dirt smudges, and was actually smiling when he spotted Bill, Diane, and the group of humans.
"Son of a bitch, Preach, you did it!" exclaimed Diane, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a tight hug.
"Now what do we do?" asked Bill, glad to see Roy still alive but more worried about the impending darkness. "What ever vamps are left in there are going to be pissed as hell, and we’re almost out of time."
"We run," replied Roy. "Very fast, and that way." He pointed towards the northern end of the parking lot where they could see a few semis parked. "I’ll hot wire one of those, and we can all get the hell out of here."
"That won’t stop them," countered Bill.
"What do you…"
Roy trailed off as a whistling sound filled the air, getting louder by the second. A red streak shot over their heads, impacting with the roof of the arena and blossoming into a huge fireball that split the sky with a roar. A second missile rocketed overhead, destroying even more of the roof and part of the side of the huge structure, bits of the building raining down upon them all.
An AH-64 Apache helicopter shot overhead, it’s might engines screaming as it circled around the arena. The attack copter came to a virtual stillness, hovering in the distance in patience. As the group stared at it in awe, wondering what it’s next move would be, a new sound came to their ears. The sounds of heavy vehicles approaching from behind them.
A hum-vee and two three-quarter ton trucks arrived on the scene, coming from around the thick patch of trees that Bill had intended to retreat to. Soldiers began leaping out from the back of one of the trucks, rounding up the scattered people that were fleeing the destruction of the arena.
"Attention!" boomed a voice from a megaphone speaker attached to the hum vee. "We are with the United States Army. This area is going to be incinerated in five minutes. We need all persons to report to this position immediately."
"Oh, shit, I don’t believe it," yelled Bill, turning to run towards where the soldiers were herding the people.
"Hold up," said Roy, grabbing his arm. "Let’s talk to the guy in charge, tell him what this place is."
"Are you nuts? He just said they’re going to bomb it! I think they know what it is."
"And I know what we just saw in there, don’t you remember? What kind of vamp was that? Do you know? I don’t know. We have to tell them about it."
"Fine, let’s just get this over with."
The trio approached the hum-vee, the driver immediately raising his machine gun in apprehension to their directness. The three of them held their hands up but continued, Roy asserting that they were friendly.
"We just freed these people," explained Roy. "They’re going to need medical attention as soon as possible."
Corporal Hicks climbed out of the passenger side of the hum-vee and walked around to talk to the three. He ordered the soldier to lower his weapon, anxious to hear what the Roy had to say to him.
"Look, we just found this place this afternoon," began Roy. There’s a whole lot of vamps in there, and they were keeping these people to feed off of."
"All of them?" asked Hicks, his tone slightly despondent.
"All of them," confirmed Diane. "I was thrown in there this morning, and I talked to most of them. They’ve all been here a long time."
"What about you?" asked Hicks. "Did they feed off you?"
"No. Almost, but no. I’d probably be dead right now if my friends hadn’t shown up just as that…that…that thing came into the arena."
"Okay, you three in the hum-vee," directed Hicks, turning towards the driver. "Get them back to base immediately, see that the Captain is notified."
"Yes, Sir," replied the soldier, saluting then directing the group into the vehicle.
Hicks jogged to the group of soldiers collecting the civilians and began barking orders. Roy, Bill, and Diane couldn’t hear what was being said over the roar of the hum vee’s engine firing up, but then they didn’t have to. What they saw was clear enough, and it chilled them to their very souls.
The soldiers immediately backed from the group of survivors, the people looking at them in confusion, and raised their weapons. The people looked on, terrified, and panic ripped through the group. The screaming began, all of them turning to run, but it was too late for them. The soldiers opened fire, none of them stopping until every last man, woman, and child was dead on the tarmac, laying in a widening pool of blood.
"What in the name of God are you people doing?" demanded Roy, shocked by what he had just witnessed.
"Eliminating enemy forces," replied the driver, whipping the hum-vee around in a tight turn.
"They were human!" screamed Diane.
"Stop this fucking thing!" yelled Bill, going for his gun.
The driver slammed on the brakes, throwing the three passengers forward, and grabbed Bill by the back of the head and slammed him into the dash, knocking him out. He had his gun out and pointed in Roy’s face a second later, telling him to set back.
"You folks just better shut up and enjoy the ride," spoke the soldier, taking off once more but keeping his gun at the ready. "When we get back to base, you’re going to have to take a little test. If you fail it, then you’re going to end up like those people."
"And if we pass?" asked Roy, furious with what he had just witnessed.
"Then you get to join us."
"I think I’d rather fail," said Roy, though his comment was lost in the explosions that were ripping apart the arena.
9/16/2002 10:04:23 PM
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