Vampire Apocalypse:

Fallout

Derek Gunn

Published by Permuted Press at Smashwords.

Copyright 2010 Derek Gunn

www.PermutedPress.com

Prologue

“I’m telling you,” the boy piped excitedly, “you just have to see this.”

He glanced back every few seconds as if to make sure that his audience was still with him and his inattention to his own footsteps caused him to slip and stumble repeatedly over the uneven ground.

“This better be worth it, Wilkins,” a boy, taller than the others, said with as much menace as his fifteen years could manage. The lead boy gulped and slipped again as his attention was distracted. The larger boy laughed. “Watch where you’re going, Wilkins, or you’re likely to break something and then we’ll never see this amazing discovery of yours.”

“Yeah,” laughed another boy, “like you were so busy before, Seager.” This boy was smaller than the larger boy but did not seem in the least intimidated by this. “Remind me,” he continued despite the scowl directed at him by Seager, “does fondling women’s underwear make you blind or do you have to actually take your dick out for that?”

There was a smattering of laughter from the others in the group, though most did not want to be seen to be laughing and looked away in case they were caught. Seager lunged forward with a growl of anger but the other boy easily sidestepped and Seager’s roundhouse punch swept past without making contact.

“I’m going to kill you, Ricks. When I get my hands on you …”

“Will you two stop it?” Everyone stopped at the sharp tone and Emma Logan glared at the two boys in front of her. Inside she longed to burst out laughing, Rick’s comment had been particularly funny, but she knew that if these two started at each other again then there was likely to be trouble. The two boys were like flint and stone and the resulting sparks were inevitable.

“Honestly,” she continued, “I’d swear you were both ten years old. Ricks,” she kept her face severe but it wasn’t easy as she watched his sheepish grin. “You know damn well that Robert was taking in the laundry for his mother.”

Emma looked sternly at Ricks, using all her self control to remain serious. He was also fifteen, of average height and athletic rather than muscular. His wiry frame was well defined from his work in the fields and muscles in his arms rippled when he moved. His brown hair flopped into his eyes, giving him the appearance of a cute animal peering out through a cage. He was a good looking boy who smiled easily but he delighted in mischief. Emma found it hard to be angry with him for too long, his smile was so damn infectious, and his eyes were like two dark pools that pulled her in and made her lose track of time.

“He sure looked like he was enjoying it way too much,” Ricks insisted and jumped out of the way of another swipe from Seager.

Emma shook herself from her thoughts. “One of these days,” she warned him, “you won’t be as quick and he’ll land one of those on you and knock you into next week. And as for you,” she turned her attention toward Seager who suddenly stopped grinning. “Stop bullying poor Danny. He’s likely to break an ankle if he doesn’t watch where he’s going and we’ll be in enough trouble as it is if we’re caught out here without having any serious injuries to content with as well.”

Seager nodded and flushed. Emma Logan was well aware that Peter Seager fancied her. Girls just sensed those things. He was good looking but was just too physical for her liking. He was a typical jock. Bigger than the other boys from an early age and he was used to getting his own way by using that size, in many cases unintentionally - but not always. He was nice enough when you got him on his own but impossible when there were others around that that he felt the need to impress. Logan, for her part, had become the calming influence between them. Neither boy was capable of leading their small group; they were far too caught up with looking good and scoring points off each other to worry about the smaller details like how their actions affected the others in the group. And they couldn’t make a decision to save their lives. There were nine of them in the group, but most of the others were sheep, happy to be led and watch the fireworks that sparked anytime the two boys got together.

It wasn’t that they hated each other. Ricks just found it too easy to bait Seager, especially when Seager was trying so hard to use his size to intimidate the others. Seager also had the makings of a bully and this didn’t sit well with Conor Ricks, or herself for that matter. Seager wasn’t a bully quite yet but he was certainly at least half way there, and Ricks delighted in eroding his tough-guy image whenever he could.

Emma liked both boys, though, despite their problems. She was fifteen as well, with just as many raging hormones as the boys had to contend with, and she was the only girl of their age around, so it limited their options considerably. But she was used to taking charge. Before the vampires had come her father had left just after she was born and her mother had become addicted to booze. A string of bad male friends had left her mother with two more children and Emma with two brothers to look after. She had been forced to take charge then and again now. Boys were just so basic, she thought in frustration. They either wanted to fight or see you naked - there just didn’t seem to be any third option that she was aware of. She was well used to keeping order. It was just a pity that someone couldn’t look after her for a change.

She had come out of the serum’s effects to a world very different to the one she had known two years previously. There had been no sign of her mother or her two brothers and the sudden loneliness had felt like a terrible weight that she still had difficulty coping with. People were kind but everyone was far too busy to take care of her so she had to pick herself up and make her own way in this new world. Although she had hated having to have to look after her brothers and having to pick up her mother after she had been abandoned yet again, she longed for their company and eagerly examined the faces of all newcomers any time Harris and his team came back with more refugees. The thought that her mother and brothers might be dead was too terrible to bear so she had convinced herself that they were still alive.

She had grown more and more insular as the patrols began to bring in fewer and fewer survivors, until, finally, her mother and her brothers had been brought in, bedraggled and near death from starvation. She had been so happy when they had been rescued. Her life seemed to take on new meaning and she took it as a sign that things would get better from then on, despite their precarious position in this new world. Now that they were together they could be a proper family. Unfortunately, though, once they recovered, her life descended back into the same monotony that she had lived with before the vampires had come.

Her mother was still an addict. Even with the time she had spent under the influence of the serum and off alcohol she had slid right back into addiction as soon as she had been rescued. Alcohol was rare enough these days, though her mother still seemed to manage to find a bottle with alarming frequency. Emma suspected that she had a number of male friends who kept her supplied for special favours but she tried hard to see the good in her mother whenever she could.

Her life had been destined to grow more depressing until Father Reilly had taken her aside. He had seen how things were for her and had seen how much responsibility had been thrust onto her young shoulders. He couldn’t do very much about her mother, though he had promised to pray for her. However, he had been able to do something for Emma. He had introduced her to the other teenagers in the community. At first she had insisted that she did not have time with all her responsibilities, but Reilly had insisted. He had arranged for her younger brothers to be sent to the community school and had insisted that she take time out every day to be with others her own age. She realised now that that had been just what she had needed.

When she had met the ‘children’, as the adults referred to them, she had remained quiet at first; delighting in the ability to lose herself in anonymity within a larger group and let others make the decisions. The two boys seemed to have nearly equal support among the group and decisions were hard to come by. Seager would suggest something and Ricks would argue against it as a matter of course. This would generally continue until Seager lost his temper and lashed out at Ricks, who generally danced safely around the other boy until they both got bored and argued about something else. While it was fun in the beginning she had eventually lost patience. She had managed to remain quiet for nearly a whole week, enjoying the attentions of both of the boys, but, eventually, she had been forced to step in and separate Seager and Ricks.

They would never get anything done otherwise and she wasn’t one for just hanging around and arguing. She was a do-er. That had been the beginning of it. It hadn’t taken long before everyone in the group, including Seager and Ricks, looked to her for guidance and to make the final decision when there was no consensus, which was in most cases. Some things just never changed, she realised. There was something within her, a quality that others gravitated toward, that impelled her to lead. Eventually she decided not to fight against it and accepted her role and, if the truth be known, she now revelled in it. For the first time, others looked to her out of respect rather than circumstance.

She still had two brothers who conspired as often as they could to make her home life busy but now she also had the ‘Wolverines.’ The name had not been her idea but she had to admit that it did give their little group an identity that was all theirs. Up till now she had always been someone’s daughter or sister. For a time she had also been a prisoner of the vampires, but she remembered little of that. She shuddered as she thought of the vampires and how tenuous their existence was, even here in their little community. That was why she put up with the crap in the group. At least it was real and she had choices. The others in the group genuinely listened to her.

They had members as young as thirteen and even one as old as seventeen, though Jack Pearson was a little soft, ‘touched’ as they used to call them in the old world. He wasn’t handicapped, just a little slow. He adored her and never stood less than a few feet away from her. It wasn’t sexual by any means, not that she had any experience with boys in that way, of course. The vampires had come when she was still twelve and had effectively stunted her formative teen years. Though she had seen enough men around her mother to tell the difference between friendship and lust. Jack wasn’t quite as tall as Seager but his shoulders were far more developed than any of the others so he appeared bigger, and was certainly stronger than any of the others. He also had a quiet confidence about him that ensured the others afforded him a measure of respect and ensured they never made fun of the fact that he was simple.

There wasn’t really much to do in the community and they spent most of their days wandering through the community’s territory, at least those areas which were considered safe. Her brothers were in school but there were no teachers for her age group. Initially, when they had been originally inducted into the community, the adults had told them that they had to attend classes anyway, but there were no adults qualified to teach them and their classes had turned out to be a string of adult ‘babysitters’ who merely sat in a room with them. After a few weeks of that they had simply stopped going. There had been a few rumblings about punishment but she had offered a compromise and, to everyone’s delight, it had been accepted. She had offered the committee their services for chores around the community that the adults either did not have the time or the inclination to do themselves. This would mean that they would be contributing to the community rather than being merely a drain on scarce resources and the adults had happily accepted.

Once they finished their chores they were free for the rest of each day. It had been a major victory for her. It had marked the group as special and allowed them a freedom that none of the other young people enjoyed. The group loved her for it and it firmly cemented her place as the group’s leader.

Of course there was really very little to do in the community but at least they had control of their own time. Today’s planned excursion, a trip out to the West of the city’s limits to see if they could find a shop that was reputed to have books and games and was still relatively undamaged, had been set aside when Danny Wilkins had come rushing into their club house, which was an old comic shop near the centre of the city.

He had refused to tell them what he had seen; instead, he had urged them to follow and see for themselves. They had all groaned and grumbled but the truth of the matter was that they had little else to do so they had followed him eagerly enough. That had been twenty minutes ago and Emma was beginning to get a little worried. They were fast approaching the limits of the community’s territory.

“Just where exactly is this thing you want to show us, Danny?” Emma asked and the boy whipped his head around and immediately stumbled again. They were only a hundred yards or so from the large wall that the thralls had built around the city before the original community members had freed it. The wall had been repaired, somewhat, and now marked the area within the city that was considered relatively safe. No one had seen a vampire fly overhead or a thrall patrol drive past the city in all the time since the city had been free. There were no guards or adults past this mark but it had been instilled in them since they woke from the serum that they were not to pass this point.

The wall loomed above them almost like a mountain and its shadow spread over them as they approached. The day was warm for January, and certainly warmer than it had been of late. Snow still covered the majority of the roads that they passed, but the sun was finally starting to melt the blanket that had seemed to have gripped their city forever. Low clouds roiled above them like agitated, dirty snakes and kept what heat there was in the city stagnant and stale. Despite this, though, the air itself seemed to grow colder as they walked into the shadow of the wall. The barrier itself seemed to disappear into the clouds as if it continued on forever, though they knew that vicious, sharp wire adorned the top of the wall. The wall itself was dull and grey, almost boring in its monotonous circle around the city. The occasional hole along its length or blackened scorch mark were all that remained to remind them that there was still a very real threat beyond the barrier.

“It’s not far now,” he insisted, “just up ahead.”

“It is within the limits, Danny, isn’t it?” Emma stopped and put her hands on her hips.

“Well, sort of,” Danny answered as he continued to walk until he realised that the others had stopped following and he was forced to halt and turn back towards them. “Oh, come on guys,” he pleaded, “it’s just up ahead and it is so worth it.”

“We’re not going past the limits, Danny. No way,” Emma insisted and most of the others nodded their agreement.

“How did you find this thing anyway?” Seager asked dubiously. “Have you been out past the limits on your own?”

Danny looked down at his feet and flushed. “I overheard my dad talking about some new device and that they were testing it out past the North wall, so I followed him last night. You’ve really got to see this, guys. Honestly. It really is so worth it.”

“Just tell us what it is and then we’ll decide for ourselves,” Ricks shrugged with what he thought to be a perfectly acceptable compromise.

“No way,” Danny insisted defiantly as he shook his head, “it’ll spoil the surprise. Come on guys.”

“Just how far past the limits are we talking about?” Emma asked as her heart began to beat a little faster. The last few weeks had begun to grow boring as they had finished exploring everywhere that was considered safe. The chance of actually seeing something new and exciting was awfully attractive, but to go past the limits was dangerous, not to mention the trouble they could get into.

“Oh, not far,” Danny smiled as he began to sense victory. “You’ll still be able to see the wall and all.”

The others all looked a little dubious but then Ricks nodded. “What the hell, we’ve bugger all else to do.”

Emma was about to object when Seager, not to be out done by Ricks, shouted his agreement and then the rest were swept along in the growing excitement of such a radical trip. Emma knew she should say something but she could not help feeling excited about the prospect as well. What the hell, she thought, it’s only a little way past the limits. No one will know and we’ll be back before anyone is any the wiser. She nodded slowly and the others cheered and headed on toward the wall.

It was if the very air around them conspired with them to keep their transgression a secret. The clouds that had hidden the wall’s upper reaches now seemed to drop even lower and embrace the small group in its wispy tendrils, hiding them from view. They walked cautiously but the noise of their occasional stumbling and muttered curses were quickly muted by the blanket of cloud that enveloped them. Emma shivered as the air turned colder within the cloud’s embrace and she was about to call a halt when Danny’s excited voice shattered the stillness.

“It’s through here,” he piped and urged the others toward a small crack in the wall. “I found this last night when I followed my dad. They used the gate down a little further but there’s a guard on it so I couldn’t follow them. I was on my way back when I saw light filter through this crack.” He pointed at a small fissure in the wall and Ricks hunkered down and examined it. It was far too small for an adult to squeeze through but perfect for them. Seager might find it a little snug but the rest of them should have no rouble.

“Seems you’ve thought of everything, Danny,” Ricks smiled and stood again. “Lead the way.” He swept his hand toward the fissure with an exaggerated bow. “It’s your show.

Danny leapt forward with a huge grin on his face, turned slightly to his side and promptly disappeared through the gap. For a moment it seemed that he had simply disappeared through a portal to another world or dimension and Emma felt her heart drop in her chest. What the hell are we doing? The thought rattled around in her head and she was about to speak when Ricks brushed past her and disappeared through the gap without a word. As the others began to follow and she could hear their hushed voices on the other side and her misgivings began to relent. She sighed and followed them through.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to see on the other side of the wall but she did expect something to be different. Visions of Stargate with a new world behind the shimmering void every week fuelled her imagination and filled her with equal amounts of fear and excitement. As she passed through the gap she saw that the city on this side of the wall was pretty much the same as that on the other side. In fairness, the mist did restrict her visibility to a short distance but still, she felt disappointed and relieved all at the same time. However, she was surprised to realise that she was more disappointed than relieved as she pulled herself through and surveyed the street.

Surely the whole point of having Forbidden Zones was because they were dangerous and different. The last of the group began to filter through and their silence spoke volumes of their own disappointment with this ‘unknown and dangerous’ area.

Ricks put it most eloquently. “Hey man, this sucks. I thought it would be, like, cool - you know.”

She did know and she looked over at Danny with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t worry; it’s just up the street a little.”

There was a loud grunt followed by a curse behind them and then Seager suddenly fell to the ground as he forced his way through the narrow gap. The others laughed a little but they were far too nervous about being on the other side of the wall so Seager was spared the full brunt of his ungainly entrance. Danny took off up the street and the others followed without a word.

The further they walked the more Emma Logan noticed the differences. They were subtle at first, the buildings were completely devoid of life - they even seemed to have somehow lost their colour and vibrancy. They looked abandoned. In the city, on their side of the wall, buildings might be abandoned but there was a different look to them, almost as if they were just waiting for someone to come along to open their doors, roll up the shutters and breathe new life into them. These buildings, however, looked dead, if a building could be described as such. It was a subtle difference but one which weighed heavily on Emma as she continued walking. There were abandoned, rusted vehicles on the streets, some crashed into each other while others lay crumpled into the sides of buildings where bricks lay scattered around like entrails around a fatal wound.

The low cloud seemed to linger around the cars and the buildings like a magician’s cloak, hiding so much more than it was revealing, and Emma shivered as she strained to see into the distance. She looked back toward the others and saw the same fears etched on their faces and in the way they made their way carefully through the obstacles. Even their footsteps seemed strangely muted on this side of the wall. In fact, only Danny Wilkins seemed to be oblivious to the strange ambience of the area they passed through.

“It’s just down here,” Danny snapped his head back to check they were still following and stumbled yet again as his foot found a loose brick and he was forced to windmill his arms to steady himself. Despite the subdued atmosphere the group managed a light snigger before Danny managed to steady himself and continue on down the street.

When they did finally reach Danny’s big surprise they stopped in awe and with more than a little fear. Danny bounded right up to it with no fear at all and Emma could tell that his standing in the little group had just raised quite a few notches for his courage.

“It’s all right,” he announced as he kicked the form at his feet, “he’s quite dead.”

The others stared at the corpse but no one moved any further. Even in death the Vampires were terrifying and demanded respect.

“Are you sure it’s dead?” Peter Atkins finally managed to ask. Atkins was a small boy of twelve, though he insisted that he was thirteen so as not to be the youngest. He had been in the same group that had been rescued with the rest of them three months ago, but, unlike the others, no one had found any other members of his family. He tried hard to be part of the group but still looked rather shell-shocked at the loss. It hadn’t helped that he had had to look through the unidentified bodies of those who had died on the train.

Peter Harris himself had walked with him with his hand in his as he had gone through the lines of the dead. There had been so many tears in his eyes that, even now, he still wondered if he might have actually seen his parents but had simply not registered their faces. He still wasn’t sure if it was a good thing that he had not found anyone he knew or not. There would at least have been some form of closure if he had found them. At least then he might have been able to grieve and move on; now there would always be uncertainty until he found his parents and brothers one way or the other.

For now, he lived with a family who had lost their own son during the war. But their devastation for their own loss was smothering him and was not at all what the young boy needed. He had been totally lost until he had found the ‘Wolverines’. At twelve, he should still have been in school, the committee had put certain restrictions on the group of youths and an age limit had been one of the first, but, with no one around to prove otherwise, his insistence of being thirteen could not be contested.

“Yep,” Danny laughed and kicked the vampire in the ribs to emphasise his point. Something moved beneath the corpse and caused the body to shift slightly. All of them jumped back, and a few of the smaller ones ran half way down the street before they realised that they weren’t being pursued and returned sheepishly to the group. The vampire’s head had rolled toward them and they could see a stream of dried blood running from both ears down its cheeks and neck. Dried blood also streaked from its eyes and nose and there was a huge pool of blood around the body that had stained the bricks and concrete around it like cancer corrupting flesh.

“What killed it?” Seager asked as he finally raised the courage to join Danny beside the vampire.

“Haven’t a clue.” Danny smiled as he moved aside to let the bigger boy get closer. “I tripped over him last night when I was following my Dad.”

“You mean this isn’t what your Dad was coming out here for?” Emma blurted out.

“God, no.” Danny smiled. “If the adults knew they’d be all over it and we wouldn’t get a chance to see it.”

“Danny,” Emma took a deep breath to help calm herself before continuing. “We have to tell the adults. This might be important.” She snorted and threw her eyes up to heaven. “What am I saying? This is important. My God, it might just be the most important discovery ever.”

“But we’ll get in trouble,” Danny whined as he thought of the punishment he was likely to get.

“Danny,” Ricks moved forward and put his hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder. “Emma’s right. This is huge. Something killed this vampire and if we can figure out what it was then we might just be able to use it against the others. Your discovery might just be the biggest thing that has happened since these bastards came out of the shadows. You’ll be a hero, man.”

“Is that before or after my Dad beats the hell out of me for coming out here?” Danny sighed but was already thinking past his beating to the part where he was credited with making the discovery.

“After, of course,” Ricks laughed and tousled the smaller boy’s hair.

Chapter 1

“But what actually killed it?” Phil Regan asked with more urgency that he had intended. His voice squeaked excitedly and he cringed inwardly as he forced himself to calm down. It was important for him to appear in control, especially now that he was in charge. Such immature outbursts would not help him to cultivate the image of the competent and calm leader that he was desperately trying to portray.

“We’re not entirely sure,” Adam Wilkins shrugged as he fidgeted with the papers in front of him. Wilkins had never been in the council room before, let alone the sole object of their attention, and he found the experience far from pleasant. He looked over at Pat Smyth for support and Pat winked once and nodded encouragingly.

The whole community was buzzing with the news since his son and his friends had returned with news of their discovery. While he had been outraged at first that Danny had broken such an important rule, he had soon become caught up in the discovery itself. He had been among the last group rescued and had been one of the lucky ones who still had his entire family with him. Both his wife and son had been in the same group and, although they had been in different rail cars, they had all managed to survive the daring rescue of three months earlier. Many others were still missing their partners or children, though whether they had been left behind or were already long dead was anyone’s guess. Others still had had to come to terms with being told that their loved ones had been killed by stray bullets during the rescue itself. There had been a mass burial for all of these as soon as those mourning them had overcome the serum’s effects.

It had been a particularly heart-rending affair. The absence of refrigeration made getting the bodies buried a priority and many of those standing over the mass grave were really too confused to understand fully what was happening. It had been a tough time for many of them over the last few months as they tried to cope with their losses and the new world order. Many hadn’t coped too well and some had even had to be sedated to allow them more time to come to terms with the way things were. It seemed almost criminal to use more chemicals to try and heal them from the serum but their minds were just too fragile at this point.

For such a small community these people were a terrible drain on the resources and already there were grumblings from those who had to shoulder the extra workload. Although Adam was new to the community he could see that there were already too many cracks appearing in their fragile existence. And then on top of that, of course, there was the Harris issue.

It was hard to believe that only three months had passed since Harris and his team had brought them all back to the base. However, there had been so many changes since then, and not all of them had been for the best. He did not fully understand the situation himself, or even what had gone before that had caused it to get so bad within the community, but he really didn’t care too much. He owed Harris and his team his life and the lives of his family and would defend them to the last, but his work was of paramount importance and he couldn’t afford to get involved in the in-fighting that threatened to tear the community apart.

He looked around the table at the faces of the committee and realised suddenly how divorced he was from the workings of the community He realised with a shock that he didn’t even know the names of many of the people before him, except for Regan, of course. He didn’t like Regan, or maybe it was the people who surrounded him - he wasn’t quite sure. Regardless, he wished yet again that he had stood up when it had mattered and added his voice to those others who had tried to stop Harris and his team from being railroaded.

He hadn’t agreed with it at the time but he had been so caught up in his work that he hadn’t spared the time to make a stand. And now it was too late. He could see people looking at him with growing impatience as he blushed and pushed his thoughts to one side. He cleared his throat to try and hide his embarrassment and then continued.

“As you know I have been running tests with Pat around the use of high frequency wireless bands around the outskirts of the city.” He looked around at the people before him and sighed. There wasn’t even a flicker of understanding in any of their faces. They were interested now, of course - now that there had been a result - but none of them really understood what he was trying to do.

“My background is in communications, or was, I should say,” he paused for a moment. It was still difficult to take in the sheer horror of their situation. Before he had been numbed by the serum life had been very different. The vampires had emerged from the shadows, of course, but it had not seemed likely that they would, or even could, take over the world. Communications had not been as instantaneous as they had once been so news travelled slowly in a world without the resources to run many of the technological toys everyone had so relied upon before. But, even so, stories of vampires had still seemed unreal and divorced from their own, very real, problems of survival.

He had been one of the lucky ones. As a communications expert he had managed to ‘transfer’ from his home state to the state of Illinois where a power plant and stockpiled resources made them a very rich state. Some would have called it ‘jumping ship,’ he knew, but he had to think of his family’s future. He had ended up in Chicago, working to try and perfect old technologies to run on new power sources. They had been well protected by the army, in fact, many people in the city had even complained about the army’s presence; seeing it as constrictive to their daily comings and goings. There had seemed no way that such a large and prepared force could possibly be defeated, even if the vampires were as real a threat as some made out. It was entirely possible that would not even make it this far north.

There had been over ten thousand soldiers protecting the city of Chicago. Tanks and artillery lined every hill and elevated mound around the city and they stood ready to pour their terrifying ordinance on any thrall force that approached. Vast excavations had been dug around the city to house even more weapons of incredible power. Precious resources had been poured into these excavations and many of the city’s citizens complained bitterly of such waste. Surely this was an overreaction. He still didn’t really know what had happened. Smyth had mentioned something about the thralls poisoning the water supply with the serum. But the thought of a whole city taken without a shot having being fired was just terrifying.

This new world he had woken up to was even more frightening, though. They didn’t have the numbers for a knock-down one-on-one fight with the vampires so they would have to be cleverer than they had been during the war. To this end he had come to Pat Smyth with his proposal. Pat, to his credit had immediately seen the benefits but the council had refused to fund his ideas, citing limited resources as their main reason for doing so.

This had been around the time when the situation with Harris and his team had come to a head and the council had not paid any further attention to him. It had been Harris, despite the terrible pressure he had been under at the time, who had given him the resources, both in time and manpower, to turn his ideas into a reality. It galled him now that the council would take credit for the efforts of those very people they had abandoned. He shook himself from his reverie again and cleared his throat nervously again before continuing.

“My theory revolved around the fact that if the Vampires had such powerful senses that we might be able to use that against them.” He paused again as he saw confusion on the faces of some of the council and sighed inwardly. How can you run a community in the middle of a war with former accountants, lawyers and sales people?

“Because the vampires’ senses are so acute they rely totally on them and so have become lazy,” he continued. “Now that the vampires know that we exist, we have few choices…”

“We can thank Harris for that,” snorted Patricia Lohan from her position to the right of Regan.

“Miss Lohan.” Wilkins felt his anger grow as embarrassment for his own failure to act when he had the chance suddenly overwhelmed him. “Your comments are neither warranted nor welcome.” Suddenly all of the committee members straightened as Wilkins’ comments hit home. “As you are all well aware, this study would not have received any resources at all if it had been left to you. We would not even be here discussing it at all if Peter Harris hadn’t gone out of his way to ensure the safety of the very community that has shunned him and his team. I am shamed that I did not stand with him in his hour of need, as he has continued to stand for us all. But that is not the issue here today. I will not, however, tolerate any of these flippant and undeserved comments from people who have had little to do with the continued survival of this community.”

Silence descended over the room and Pat Smyth tried hard not to burst out laughing at the look of shock that was painted on Lohan’s face. Her auburn hair seemed suddenly very dark framing a face that had gone suddenly pale. Her eyes gleamed like flint and she seemed about to reply when Ian Phelps suddenly interrupted.

“I’m sure that was not Miss Lohan’s intention.” Ian Phelps had an annoying habit of licking his lips before he spoke and it meant that there was always an annoying pause between sentences. “Though I do think that your comments are overly harsh in this case. We are all in this together after all.” He smiled as he licked his lips again but his narrow features made him appear more feral than encouraging and Wilkins merely continued to stare at him defiantly. Phelps had lost a lot of weight in the last few months and his skin seemed ill-fitting on him. His face still bore the marks of a long addiction to alcohol, though he had insisted quite openly that he had not touched a drop since being freed from the serum. As the seconds ticked by, Phelps was forced to speak again. “Why don’t you continue, Mr. Wilkins?”

Wilkins shot one more hard look at Patricia Lohan and smiled inwardly as he saw the emotions running across her face like a waterfall before he nodded and continued his report. Pat Smyth wondered briefly whether Wilkins had been wise to antagonise this beautiful but dangerous woman.

“If we merely try to hide here in this city, the vampires’ amazing senses will eventually sniff us out, especially when they might now know what state to look for us in. They, the Vampires that is, are used to covering a vast area by flying overhead and relying on their ability to detect heat sources and their sense of smell to register any community of humans. This worked well for them during the war and in the aftermath. We humans generate quite an amount of heat when collected in one small area, and our scent is quite strong.”

“Judging from the amount of patrols recently they are certainly searching in this general area, though it appears to be part of a larger search pattern rather than one which is focused on this territory in particular. They are being very thorough though, and, given enough time, they would have found us long before now if we hadn’t been able to mess with their senses a bit. Luckily for us, the vampires in the neighbouring states are still reluctant to cross the border too often and, when they do, they are still convinced of their own infallibility and this over-confidence plays into our hands.”

Wilkins paused for a moment to take a drink of water and everyone in the room seemed to hold their breaths as they waited for him to continue. “They rely totally on their senses rather than physically searching each town and city. To this end we placed wireless masts around the city, though in reality many were already there from before.” He looked around him and saw many of the eyes glazing over - he was losing them again.

“We could move, of course, but the sheer scope of that project is beyond our capability. We just can’t move everyone in secret at this time. My experiment was to see if we could scramble the Vampires’ senses if they came too close to us. Nothing major, just enough to interfere with their long range scans and prevent them from sensing us if they flew overhead. It took quite some time to get the correct frequency, but with Mister Smyth’s help,” he paused here, wanting to tell the committee that, while they had sat on their arses and ignored the danger these patrols posed to them all, Harris and his team had risked their lives by carrying his bulky equipment across the border and testing it on vampires, at great risk to themselves. They had risked so much getting the equipment within range of live subjects that they deserved to be honoured. He felt as if he was betraying their courage in not extolling their involvement, but Pat had insisted that any mention of Harris would only work against them all at this time so he, reluctantly, had agreed to keep their continued involvement a secret.

“Once we found the frequency I set up an overlapping field around the city to hide us from the vampires. Of course, it wouldn’t stop them physically seeing us if we were caught outside but, as you all know, we have a number of ways of making sure that doesn’t happen. It was their ability to sense heat and their amazing sense of smell that I was targeting. Since it went in place, we have tracked quite a number of vampires passing overhead searching, but none seemed to have managed to detect us so far.”

“Yes, I’m sure that that’s all very interesting,” Phelps interrupted, tapping his pen impatiently on the table in front of him, “but what actually killed this particular vampire?”

Pat Smyth snorted and leaned forward. “Don’t you realise what a breakthrough this is?” he asked incredulously. “This device is the only reason why we are still able to live here unmolested by the vampires. We would all be dead right now, or scattered throughout the state, if this amazing experiment wasn’t shielding us.”

Regan coughed gently. “Yes, I’m sure that we are all grateful to Mr. Wilkins but I think we are all interested to know if we can use this new discovery more as a weapon. It’s one thing to hide behind this shield but what if the vampires manage to see through it or we run out of fuel to run it? I might remind you that the equipment is not cheap to run in terms of fuel and the amount of people resources that are required to keep it running. It does break down with alarming frequency, as well.”

Wilkins blushed. He was well aware that his project needed a lot more time to get it working efficiently. He just didn’t have the right equipment to set it up the way he wanted so the masts consumed far more resources than he would have liked. Unless he was able to convince the committee that, by spending more resources now that they would save resources in the long term, it was very likely that they might very well cut off all of his fuel supplies and leave them all completely unprotected from aerial detection.

“I’m not certain what killed the creature,” Wilkins replied slowly, “but, judging by the body, it seems that the vampire must have flown through a point where the fields overlapped each other and thus increased the strength of the waves bombarding it. I had no idea that the fields would have such an effect. It has no effect on humans so it must have something to do with their heightened senses.”

“Can you develop a handheld version?” Regan leaned forward on his elbows and fixed Wilkins with an intense stare.

“Out of the question, I’m afraid,” Wilkins answered and snapped his head toward Phelps who had just thrown down his pen in disgust.

“It’s not practical, considering the power requirements,” Wilkins continued despite the interruption, “the device would have to be far bigger than anyone could manage alone. I’m not even sure if we could recreate it if a force of them attacked the city. There are just too many variables.”

“So we’re still stuck here hiding, waiting for the bastards to die out,” Phelps sneered. “Oh, wait a minute, they’re not going to die out anymore, are they? Ever since Harris sent Steele to tell them that the serum was killing them and effectively saved the bastards so they could tear the state apart looking for us. It’s only a matter of time, you know, before they find us. Either your equipment will break down or we’ll run out of the fuel to power it and then they’ll descend on us like the wrath of God.”

Wilkins looked over at Smyth and saw the small chemist shake his head slightly. They could argue as much as they wanted that Harris had acted the way he had to save millions of humans across the world but none of that took away from the truth in Phelps’s words. The vampires were still out there, and now that they knew that a community of free humans existed they would continue to search until they found them. Whether Harris had acted for the best or not was immaterial at this point.

While there had been far fewer search parties than they would have expected after their presence was revealed by Steele, there were still enough vampires crossing the skies to make them nervous, and all that hid them was outdated equipment. Equipment that could stop functioning at any moment and leave them naked and exposed. Harris had done a lot of good but he had indeed stirred a major hornet’s nest when he had set about turning the vampires at each others’ throats.

He had rescued thousands, Wilkins and his family amongst them, but the city was straining to cope with the increased numbers; food and resources were already running far too low. On top of all their other problems, they were in the grip of a severe winter with snow drifts covering many of the smaller buildings in the old city. Global warming was still a major threat to them as the planet struggled to recover from decades of abuse.

If they ran out of fuel, then, quite simply, they would not make it to spring. All of their fuel was being used to heat the living areas, and even this had recently been restricted to certain hours of the day. The reaction he was getting each time he went to collect his ration for the upkeep of the network was becoming more and more aggressive, and all the time the stocks continued to decline alarmingly fast. Hiding was one thing but survival was something else entirely. And in the current situation, their continued survival looked very doubtful, indeed.

Chapter 2

William Carter sighed as he lowered himself into the chair. He had spent all day patrolling his forces in and around Bertrand. Territorial lines had blurred somewhat in the last three months. Ever since the humans had successfully rescued thousands of prisoners under all of their noses and managed to set the vampires against each other, things had changed drastically.

In fact, to say things had changed was an understatement. At least, within a four-state area anyway. He had no idea what was happening further than that, and really didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, life was good. He had moved from being a lowly Captain in an army subservient to the vampires to leader of all the thralls in two states.

He remembered the last few months with more than a little pride as he kicked off his boots and brought a cold beer to his lips. He had moved quickly the night the humans had escaped. While the dawn was still breaking overhead - in fact, he still couldn’t be sure if the dawn had been breaking at all or whether it had been the fires on the horizon that had lit his way but, regardless - he had gathered his forces in the dim light and marched toward his destiny.

Falconi’s thralls had been in disarray and many of them didn’t know whether their leader was alive or dead. The last thing they had known was that a truce had been declared between the two leaders and they had taken his orders without question. He had driven immediately to Niles and had swept through the town without mercy. All senior officers had been taken and beheaded in front of everyone. No choices had been offered to these men. He had spent years under their command and he knew them for the petty, power-hungry bastards they were. He knew them too well to think that they would not plot against him as soon as they got the opportunity. His combined force had been too well armed and far too large to resist and the city had fallen easily.

He also knew his fellow thralls in the middle ranks, and he knew what scared them most. He had delivered them from that fear. He had offered them freedom from the vampires. None of the thralls in Niles knew anything about what had occurred in Bertrand so he had brought a number of vampire corpses to back up what he was saying. He had, of course, left out the part the humans had played and had exaggerated somewhat his own role, but the result had surpassed even his expectations.

The thralls in Niles were quick to see that his forces included thralls in the uniforms of Von Kruger’s army as well as their own, and they mistook this to mean that he had defeated their neighbouring enemies as well as removed the vampire yoke from their heads. He was immediately accepted as their new commander and his forces had swelled even further.

From there he had quickly sent scouts ahead to all the major towns and cities announcing what had happened. Most of the thralls in these towns had woken that morning to find that their vampire masters had disappeared. The thralls on guard duty could only report that they had seen large numbers of vampires pass overhead during the night toward the border so the evidence worked for him.

Rumour and fear spread so fast that, by the time word reached them of the new warlord in the North who had defeated their vampire masters, his legend had grown so much from each re-telling that many towns had already pledged their allegiance to him long before his forces reached them. In many of the towns he had seen a line of the town’s former thrall commanders already beheaded and laid out as a guard of honour to the city’s approach.

It had taken him four weeks in all to subdue both states. But he hadn’t stopped there. He had sent emissaries to all the neighbouring states informing them of what had happened and how they too could shake off the vampire oppression if they joined together. This, of course, was far trickier to manage, as he could not afford to split his forces too thinly in case these other states decided to move against him.

While there were still plenty of vampires remaining within his own states, they were fewer in number than before and were still focused on their own struggle for dominance. He wasn’t overly worried about them at this time. However, there were still far too many vampires in the neighbouring states to let those thralls merely decide not to obey their masters. He did hope, though, to plant a seed of what could be achieved in the minds of these thralls. His main worry was that the vampires in the neighbouring states would order their armies to cross the border and subdue him before he was ready. Anything he could do to delay such actions would work in his favour and if he could start a revolution in those states then so much the better.

He still had too much work to do in his own territory to take advantage of the situation fully, though. Von Kruger, the most senior vampire in the state, had not been idle either while he had been busy building his own empire. Von Kruger was old school and relied upon sheer power and fear to subdue those around him. He still did not consider the thralls a real threat and had spent his time confirming his control over Wentworth’s surviving vampires and claiming the state as his own.

To this end Von Kruger had rallied his own forces from every corner of the state and invaded Wentworth’s old territory. Reports had flooded into his command HQ from every corner of the state of vicious battles between the vampires but he had ordered his men to remain on the fringes and to take no part in this war. The more blood shed by the vampires amongst themselves the better it would be for him in the long run. It was safer not to take sides and to let the vampires reduce their numbers through attrition. These battles only took place during darkness, of course, so a strange truce, where the vampires fought at night and the thralls continued to extend their territory by day, began to shape the future of the two states. In the end, Von Kruger had emerged victorious among the vampires and now controlled the two states completely.

Of course, in the time it had taken Von Kruger to achieve dominion over the vampires he had allowed Carter the time to gain full control of the thrall forces, forces that were far more numerous than the vampires and could not now be ignored. Von Kruger, fresh from his victory, had finally taken the time to take stock of his territory and had come to realise that his own vampire forces were far fewer than he had realised.

His borders were under severe threat from neighbouring states as those vampires were slowly coming to terms with the knowledge that vampires were once again at war with each other. They had held off attacking him themselves so far only because they feared reprisal from the Council, but, with the council’s continued inaction to Von Kruger’s campaign, many of the neighbouring states were beginning to see this as a form of unofficial approval and were already beginning to marshal their own forces to take whatever advantages this new situation presented to them.

The whole situation was poised to blow. Added to Von Kruger’s troubles were the further problems of a severely depleted food source and an army which was no longer under his control. In all, Von Kruger now found himself vulnerable from those of his kind manoeuvring around him and from within by the very forces he once controlled.

While Carter was happy to see that his rival was distracted he still had problems of his own to contend with. On top of everything else he had heard recently that the rebels who had rescued the human prisoners three months ago had not been idle either while he and Von Kruger had been busy. His own attention had been focused on consolidating his position and this had meant either welcoming new forces into his growing army or subduing by force those who did not join him. This had left many of the human prisoners relatively unguarded as his campaign had pulled every available thrall to either guard the borders or bolster his conquering armies.

He had decided at an early stage in his new position that he would have to deal with the vampires at some point and, to do this, he had to have leverage. The only thing he had that they really needed was live humans, so he had continued to keep the humans guarded throughout his campaign. This had been a drain on his forces as he had required most of his new army to bully those communities who resisted him and he had only been able to spare small numbers of guards to protect his precious resources.

Many of his human prisoners had simply gone missing over the last few weeks. It had been surprisingly small numbers at first and had not worried him unduly, but it had begun to grow of late. In many cases the guards had not even seen the thieves. They had simply guarded through the night but, come breakfast time, had noticed that a number of their charges were no longer in the pens. No shots had been fired and no thralls had been killed. Carter suspected that the thrall guards had been taking shelter from the still freezing weather and had been less than honest in their reports of patrolling all through the night.

An urban legend had begun to form around this band of rebels; he had heard whispered stories that they could spirit away prisoners at will, that they controlled the mist itself and that they could simply disappear at will. After all, if vampires could exist, why not humans with special powers? Cater had been forced to make an example of the last thralls who had lost their prisoners or face a situation which would have left him without his bargaining chips. He had ordered the thralls stripped and left staked near a neighbouring vampire stronghold. Their screams had filled the night almost till the next dawn and the stories of the hideously torn thrall bodies that were revealed the next morning were enough to ensure that guard duty was again taken very seriously.

The humans did not, of course, stop their daring rescues, but the last time he had lost any human prisoners, he had also lost every thrall guarding them. While he did not like losing thralls, he was somewhat pleased that his forces were now prepared to die rather than report further prisoner losses. However, he had to do something about those blasted humans.

He had already sent three envoys to Von Kruger to arrange a meeting where they could agree terms and maybe help each other to address the growing problem of the humans. Unfortunately, each one of his ambassadors had been slaughtered and their bodies had been dropped by passing vampire patrols in the night.

For his part, now that he controlled as much territory as he thought he could handle, he had sent his forces out to discover where the Vampires had set up their new lairs. Vampires were creatures of habit and still considered themselves far superior to their former slaves. To this end, their resting places had been relatively easy to find and Carter had ordered three vampires beheaded and returned to Von Kruger in retaliation for his three envoys.

Von Kruger had not replied as yet to this latest show of strength, but he would, and soon. Either there would be a slaughter, or, more likely, a compromise. Neither vampire nor thrall could survive against the forces surrounding them unless they worked together. However, if he couldn’t supply Von Kruger with a guaranteed food source and protection during the day from the human rebels, then the vampires would be forced to attack Carter and his thralls for the food that they needed. And that would not be beneficial for anyone. He had to nullify this rebel threat before it threatened his new empire. The question was how?

He knew that they must be coming in from the East but his patrols had been run ragged over the last two weeks as they followed tracks that led nowhere. Someone in this human group knew how to track and to lay false trails, and it was driving his men mad. He even had one situation where two of his own patrols had opened fire on each other thinking the other force to be the force they were tracking. It wasn’t good for morale, either.

His men knew that there was an uneasy peace with the vampires but that no agreement had yet been reached, so they constantly scanned the skies in the night as if expecting death to rain on them all for their daring to declare independence. He might rule now but it was a precarious position that could lead to his own death if he couldn’t show his own forces that he was capable of securing all of their futures. Added to this threat was the fact that prisoners were still disappearing regularly, as if by magic, and it was making his men very nervous.

Carter finished his beer and pondered his next move. He wondered idly why the vampires did not simply find the human rebels now that they knew of their existence, but could not come up with any answer to that one either. He shrugged and called for his aide. He had the beginnings of a plan in the back of his mind but he was too tense. He had seen a particularly pretty female in the holding cages on his way in and she would provide some much needed entertainment before he had to get back to work.

Chapter 3

Jake Warren strode over to the consol and cursed. That was the second time today that the core had registered a temperature spike and he was damned if he knew what was causing it. Atkins would have known, of course, but the thralls had grown tired of his repeated demands for more workers at the plant and he had been thrown back into the pens to join the line of serum-induced zombies and wouldn’t be passing on any of his vast knowledge anymore. Damn him, Warren cursed as he flicked the switch up and down and prayed for the temperature to go down again. Warren had no idea what he was doing but this had seemed to work the last time. He sweated heavily as he waited for the needle to move away from the red markings on the gauge.

“What is it?” the thrall on duty asked from across the room and Warren prayed the bastard would stay where he was and not come over to investigate.

“Nothing,” he lied and prayed his voice didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. He knew very little about nuclear power plants and had only managed to work here at all because he knew computers and, as the plant had the only working computer left in the area, it made sense that he would work there. He had moved here before the vampires had taken over and had lied to the human council in power at the time about his abilities to get himself and his ten-year-old son into the state. He had assumed that the plant would be filled with technicians who knew the plant inside out so he had not thought that his indiscretion would harm anyone.

Then, of course, the vampires had taken over and many of the humans had been thrown into the pens and had been injected with the serum. It had only been later when the vampires had realised that they needed humans to run the plant that they had begun to search through their prisoners for people capable of running the systems. He had been lucky to have been still wearing his white lab coat because the thralls had weaned him off the serum first. When asked if he could run the plant he had, again, lied and told them that of course he could. He had been allowed to take his son from the pens as well and had been tasked with finding seven other technicians capable of helping him.

This had been where he had encountered his first problem. He hadn’t really paid attention in his short time he had spent in the plant and did not know the people well enough to pick them out of the huge numbers in the pens. He had remembered Trevor Atkins, as the man had been a virtual dynamo and always had time to pause and explain details to the other workers, but many of the other senior managers did not seem to be in the pens and could already be dead. He had picked as best he could and the thralls had placed him in charge of the plant.

He had felt guilty at first. What right did he have to choose who lived and who died? But it wasn’t just his own life that he had to consider. His son would not last long in the pens, he was far too frail and his asthma had to be controlled or he would die. He had also heard that the vampires had a particular fondness for young children, and most had already been drained and cast into the large burial trenches that had been dug to the north of the plant. He had also heard terrible rumours of forced breeding so the vampires could replenish the quickly diminishing stocks of young flesh. He might have felt guilt but he was also fairly certain that the vampires would kill him if he gave them any cause to believe he was not all he had said he was. So, he had ignored his inner recriminations, kept quiet and accepted the position.

Atkins had been the obvious one to run the plant and Warren had quickly told the man that he would, of course, defer to him, but Atkins suggested they keep things as the thralls had organised them, lest they throw any of the people and their families back into the pens. Atkins was a genuinely nice man who could not stomach to see anyone suffer. Atkins, too, had a family, though no matter how much he had searched he had not been able to find his youngest son and the loss gnawed at him constantly. He had been delighted that he had found his wife and two older sons, of course, but every time he passed one of the pens his colleagues would see him searching the faces of those wretched souls lining the wire fences in the hope of finding his youngest. Atkins had spent most of his free time, which wasn’t much, pestering the thralls to allow him to check the pens again and again in the vain hope that he might have missed him before.

While Atkins was happy to support Warren in the plant, he did, however, have a major problem with the people Warren had chosen, none of whom were actually capable of running a nuclear plant. The plant might be automated but it still required a number of skilled technicians to make sure that the myriad controls and gauges were monitored and adjusted at the correct time to ensure the safety of the entire area. He had tried constantly but had been unable to get the thralls to add to the small group. The thralls were not stupid and knew how many technicians it took to run the plant. Atkins could not insist too strongly in case the thralls found out the truth and condemned all of them to death. Warren suspected that it had been Atkins’ failure to find his youngest son that had made him so desperate to save any others he could in the pens.

He had, therefore, begun to train those around him as best he could but had continued to pester the guards to allow him to pick more workers from the pens whenever he got the opportunity, claiming exhaustion and stress for the small number of technicians for such a large plant. Atkins could not argue that the plant needed seven people who actually knew what they were doing and his persistence had eventually been his downfall; the thralls had grown tired of him and had thrown him back in the pens.

Warren had pleaded that Atkins be allowed to come back but they had refused and he had had to choose someone else or join him in the pens. Again Warren had had no idea who to choose. He had been reminded of collecting foil-wrapped cards he had bought as a child. It was a matter of picking one and hoping the pack contained the card you wanted. He had chosen a man he thought he had recognised and then waited anxiously for a week while the serum was flushed from his system and he could find out what he had. Unfortunately, the man had turned out to be a country singer, and one of some note, as it turned out. That was probably why he had looked familiar. But he would not add to their knowledge base at all, unless you considered listening to country music worthwhile.

Now he had a major problem. If they didn’t get some people who knew what they were doing to manage the core, then there was a real chance that the whole thing would blow and kill them all. But he couldn’t tell the thralls that they had made a mistake in picking the man either - he and his son would be killed instantly for his deception, as would the other six ‘technicians’ and their families. Whether by blind luck or design, the plant had continued to run smoothly despite Atkins’ removal, but these temperature spikes were worrying. They hadn’t happened while Atkins was at the plant so something had definitely changed.

He had quietly questioned the rest of the staff over the last few days and had found nothing to raise his spirits. They, like him, were all technical to some extent, just not in any way that would help keep the plant running safely. Atkins had managed to train some of them in the more menial tasks and they continued to do these constantly, however, none of them actually understood what their actions actually did, only that Atkins had told them that they were necessary to the continued running of the plant. He watched the temperature needle withdrawing from the red line as it began to slowly return to normal.

“Thank God,” he muttered and grimaced at Angela Wallace, who worked the consol beside him. Angela had been an excellent dietician in her previous life but had not succeeded in taking in all Atkins had told her, so, while she continued to press buttons and turn dials in the exact sequence she had been shown, she wasn’t entirely certain whether the sequence should ever change to take into account any anomalies such as these temperature spikes. They all knew that they were sitting on a time bomb but there was no way any of them were going to admit their lack of knowledge to the thralls. While they were all aware that there was a chance the plant might explode, it was a certainty that they would all die if the thralls discovered their deception. Besides, it may never blow. Fear and worry for their own lives and the lives of their families tied each of them into the lie together.

Warren’s heart began to slow in time with the descending needle and he wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Whatever had caused the spike had seemed to have abated for now. Probably just a blip, he decided. Such things probably happened all the time. The fact that he couldn’t recall such blips when Atkins had been in charge might just be because Atkins had handled them without worrying the others. He had a sudden image of Homer Simpson at the controls of his Nuclear Plant in Springfield and almost giggled insanely. God, talk about life mimicking art. And he didn’t even have any doughnuts.

Peter Harris rolled his shoulders in the narrow space to relieve the cramp in his back and wiped the dust away from his goggles. The patrol was only a few feet from him and the dust their vehicles created as they lumbered past threatened to choke him. He checked his XM8 Heckler and Koch to take his mind off his physical discomfort and sighed, stifling the cough that threatened to escape from his dry throat. They had set up this action in a hurry but the very fact that the patrol was here at all had him very worried. The patrol passing him was only three vehicles in strength but, significantly, they were the first of Carter’s forces to cross the border into Nero’s territory and a white flag flew in plain sight on all three vehicles.

What was happening? Were the thralls trying to deal with Nero? Were they sending similar envoys into all their neighbouring states or was this the only one? Had the thralls figured out where they were hiding? The questions reeled through his mind, almost making him dizzy. He realised, of course, that it was only a matter of time before someone figured out that all the attacks were limited to a relatively small area along the border with Nero’s territory, but he had hoped for more time than this.

It was, after all, a huge border and he had always been mindful that they were very limited in the distances they could travel safely for the raids they conducted. To this end he had made sure that each raid was spread as far from the last one as was possible but there was a limit to the distance they could travel with serum-addicted prisoners on their return from a raid. If someone were to take the time to plot each raid there would be a definite concentration around the towns within a hundred miles along the border with Nero’s territory. There was nothing Harris had been able to do to prevent this but he had always tried to be careful. Unfortunately, it seemed that he had not been careful enough.

He had taken a huge risk recently when they had attacked a small town much further away than ever before. It was almost two hundred miles south and under the rule of another vampire he did not know the identity of, but who he knew was marshalling his own forces since word of the battle of three months ago had spread. It had been a gigantic risk, and now he wondered if that risk had been for nothing after all. It had taken them two days of dangerous travel to make the raid and three on the way back due to the increased patrols in the area. He really had thought that the diversion would sufficiently confuse anyone looking for them. They had lost ten prisoners on the way and he had hoped that their sacrifice would have at least bought them some more time.

Unfortunately, though, it seemed that the new thrall commander was far cleverer than those who had previously handled the job and it looked like he had seen through his ruse. Or maybe he was reading too much into this patrol. Was it just part of a larger hands-extended-in-friendship ruse by the new commander to ensure neighbouring states did not think they could merely cross the border after such a violent and costly civil war?

Another problem was that his team was not even trained for this level of combat. They had trained hard in guerrilla tactics against armed, stationary targets who might be aware that an attack might come at some time, but they could not remain at high alert constantly. This attack, however, was on a fully armed patrol that was obviously well trained and actively expecting a surprise attack. But he really didn’t see another choice. The fact that this patrol had crossed into Nero’s territory and had not yet been challenged would expose the fact that Nero no longer controlled this territory, and that would invite a much closer inspection, if not an all-out invasion. They had to ensure that this patrol did not report back or they would risk losing everything.

He really had thought that they would be able to stop this type of hit and run tactics when he had sent Steele to the vampires to tell them of the danger of the serum. But something was going on that just did not make sense to him.

Since their rescue of the prisoners three months ago the entire landscape had changed dramatically. The thralls had taken their destiny into their own hands and had split from the vampires. In the confusion resulting from each side consolidating their own positions, Harris and his team had been able to continue rescuing prisoners, though on a far smaller scale since they had their own troubles in the community.

A deep sadness threatened to overwhelm him but he forced it back savagely. He understood the community’s motives even if he didn’t agree with their methods. But it had been three months now and the prisoners they had rescued were still being given the serum. It didn’t make sense. Didn’t the vampires know that they would die as well if they continued to drink the blood of serum-saturated humans? He knew that the message had reached Von Richelieu because Steele had confirmed it before he had killed himself.

God! He thought as his depression grew. There had been so much death already. Good friends had died during their last mission. Their faces swept in front of him as if using the thick dust as a movie screen, Steele, Carlos Ortega, Dee Ratigan, and Rodgers. The list was far too long. It seemed that there would be no end to this struggle, after all. Their sacrifices had been for nothing. Maybe he shouldn’t have told the vampires about the serum, it certainly didn’t seem to have done any good. And now that they knew that free humans existed they would continue searching for them until they were certain they were completely wiped out. Even with Adam Wilkins’ wireless protection it was unrealistic to think that they could remain hidden indefinitely. Had he doomed everyone after all? Had it really all been for nothing?

Here he was again, lying in wait for thralls in a hastily prepared trap, but what did it really matter? Even those who they had rescued had turned against them or failed to stand with them when the committee had passed judgement on him. He still found it hard to believe that fellow survivors had actually cast out their own people. Well, it had been only him that had been banished, but the many of his team had stood with him and had shared his fate because of it. On one hand, it had been somewhat encouraging to see how many people had actually stood up and wanted to come with him, but, in the end, he had not been able to accept their sacrifice. Some he had had to force to stay. Men like Pat Smyth and Father Jonathon Reilly would serve everyone better if they stayed where they could continue their work. But others he had accepted gratefully.

He had been shocked when the verdict had come in. It had been just after Steele had paid them a visit as a vampire. The fact that he had been able to just appear inside their community so easily had shocked everyone and Phelps had used this fear to force through the emergency meeting that had led to his banishment. Phelps had argued that if Steele could just simply waltz in among them, so too could an army of vampires. Of course, it had all been Harris’ fault. He had told the vampires where they were.

There had been those who stood and tried to explain that Harris hadn’t told anyone where they actually were but Phelps had driven home his point by displaying Steele’s body, and there had been little coherent thought after that. The fact that a thrall patrol from Von Kruger’s territory had been seen patrolling along the border under a white flag a few days previously, had only caused more panic and Phelps had skilfully heated the fires of fear that raged through the small community.

He had argued that it wouldn’t be long before these patrols actually crossed the border and discovered that Nero was dead. The people had all been terrified and grasped with both hands Phelps’s assurance that, by forcing Harris out, the vampires and thralls would leave the rest of them alone. Their quarrel was with Harris, after all, not with the rest of the community. In their fear, the people had accepted this and Harris had found the vote going against him, albeit by a narrow margin.

He had been speechless. To banish anyone from the community was like serving them a death sentence. If Steele had not killed Sherman earlier that day, Harris would not even have sought such punishment for him, and he was guilty of cold-blooded murder. He had expected censure, of course, even some form of punishment for disobeying the council. After all, if everyone broke the rules then the council could not maintain order. He understood this, but banishment had been unthinkable. As he lay in wait for the patrol to reach the point of ambush, thoughts of that night flooded his mind and he was carried back to the auditorium where the meeting had taken place.

Chapter 4

The atmosphere in the auditorium was electric. Harris could sense emotions running high as soon as he entered the room. Phelps already stood on the platform like a warm-up act busy whipping the audience into a frenzy in preparation for the main event. Only this time the main event was deadly serious. Only an hour ago they had been shocked when Steele had returned to them as a vampire, and Harris was still reeling from the implications.

Had Steele merely been the vanguard? Could they now expect a full invasion of thralls and vampires on their small community? Harris had been informed of the meeting as he had led April back to her room. The poor girl had been almost inconsolable about losing Steele, and Harris had wanted to stay with her, but he assumed that this meeting was to plan their defence in light of the night’s disclosure and that was of paramount importance. He had still been reeling from Steele’s revelation that Von Richelieu already knew of the community’s existence and that they had a traitor amongst them. He had briefly considered whether Steele may have been trying to set the humans against one another in an attempt to destabilise any resistance they might offer, but Steele’s selfless act in taking his own life had proved to Harris that his friend had told them the truth.

Harris had been shocked when he had reached the auditorium only to find a room filled with former colleagues all shouting and pointing in anger at him as he entered the room. He was dimly aware that Phelps was orchestrating it all from the platform but his actual words were drowned out by the roar of the crowd as Harris came into view. Harris had experienced many different reactions from people since they had discovered that he had sent Steele to warn the vampires of the serum’s lethal payload, but he had never felt such raw emotion as he had that night. The wave of anger hit him like a physical blow and he was forced to stop in confusion and wonder if he had somehow entered the wrong room.

He scanned the crowd who had turned up for the meeting and realised with a sudden sadness that he did not know most of them. Some of their faces were familiar from the many rescues he had led, but he had never had the time to get to know these people. Many of them were already so caught up with their own survival and their own problems that they had already forgotten the sacrifices that had been made to free them. It was obvious from their anger that they had already forgotten the people who had risked their lives to save them. It had been no comfort that they were obviously being manipulated by Phelps, who, even now, continued his ranting from the platform.

Harris and his team might have saved most of the lives of those present in the room but Phelps had begun the process of undermining Harris’s position a long time ago. Harris realised with a start that his own commitment to saving others could very well be his downfall. While he and his team had been out rescuing more prisoners, Phelps had worked hard to ingratiate himself with these people and had slowly built his popularity and sown the seeds of dissention. He had merely been waiting for the right time to strike. And Harris had unwittingly provided him with the very opportunity he had been waiting for on a plate.

Harris continued to press his way into the room as he made his way to the platform. He had never been one to avoid conflict and his own anger began to boil as he realised that Phelps had been patiently waiting for just such an occasion. How dare he? Harris thought as he pushed his way through the crowds. How dare he threaten everyone for his own petty power games. The crowd parted easily as Harris continued toward the platform. Their anger might have been directed towards him but few of them had the courage to stand in his way. His companions behind him struggled to keep up as the crowd quickly closed behind him like the tide around a rock, blocking their approach.

But it was no consolation to Harris that these people still afforded him enough respect to move aside despite Phelps’ best attempts to make him a pariah. He had seriously underestimated Phelps. As Harris made his way through the crowd he began to realise the extent of the man’s achievement. Phelps had used the same tactics that others had used repeatedly throughout history to undermine the work of others. In France, such tactics had caused a revolution and bloody warfare among Protestants and Catholics that then spread throughout Europe in a war that had killed millions, In Germany, Hitler had swept into power on a wave of racial hatred encouraged by ruthless men with their own agendas. In ancient Rome, the empire began to crumble when elitism began to replace the old rules of citizenship. In all cases the minority had been able to sway the ignorant to their agenda by feeding and controlling their fear.

Phelps had appealed to the community’s more base instincts and prejudices while Harris had been away. He had concentrated on the fact that the community could not support any more refugees, that everything the community had, everything they had worked for, would now have to be rationed and shared with others. He argued that their very safety was at risk with such a large influx of people and laid the blame firmly on Harris.

Harris had been aware of what he had been doing on one level but he had not thought that such prejudices would take hold on such a young community. He had dismissed the warnings he had received from others as scaremongering and had continued to patrol and bring back more prisoners. He had been so sure that that the people would understand the need to rescue as many as they could before the serum began to kill whole populations.

But, he had obviously been wrong. He had been wrong to ignore the advice from his friends and he had very definitely been wrong about what the community, as a whole, thought about his determination to rescue others. The wave of anger that swept over him as he walked through the crowd shocked him, and he began to falter. Just what is going on here? His steps shortened. This seemed more like a lynching than a meeting to determine the best defence of the community.

Harris finally reached the steps of the platform and began to ascend with a growing unease.

“Ah, here he is now.” Phelps swept his hand toward Harris with a flourish more suited to a magician than a public speaker but he had worked the crowd well and they responded with a roar of anger that staggered Harris. It took quite a few minutes for the roar to subside enough to be heard but Harris did not know how to respond to such enmity. He was shocked. Just what had Phelps been saying to turn these people into such a rabid mob? What was actually going on? There was no way they could plan their defence in such an atmosphere.

Phelps raised his hands and the crowd suddenly quietened and, for a moment, Harris thought that the silence was in many ways worse than the clamour of before. Feelings rushed through him as he stood before the crowd. Feelings of inadequacy, confusion and deep regret mingled with his own anger at the way he was being treated, and he struggled hard to calm himself. An outburst now would be the worst thing he could do.

“Dear friends,” Phelps began and Harris could see that most of the crowd hung on every word. “Let us not cast recriminations. What’s done is done.” The crowd surged forward and Harris felt a real fear that their anger would become uncontrollable and a riot would ensue. He saw Sandra and a few others finally push their way to the stairs of the platform and stumble their way on to the platform. Each of them was dishevelled from their struggle but unhurt, and Harris began to feel a deep worry that Phelps might have stirred the crowd too much.

“Friends!” Phelps shouted over the noise and Harris noticed that the crowd did not quiet for him as quickly as before. There was real anger in the crowd now and Harris looked to the others with a worried frown.

“We are here,” Phelps shouted the first words and as the roar of the crowd finally began to reduce in volume, “to take our destiny into our hands. The time when others could recklessly threaten our survival is at an end.” The crowd cheered and Harris looked as Sandra and Father Reilly with a growing sense of unease. Father Reilly stepped forward and was about to interrupt but Harris shook his head. This wasn’t the time to contradict Phelps.

Phelps had chosen his time well, Harris realised. He had been totally outplayed by the man and now he would have to wait and see what Phelps had planned. Harris scanned the crowd and realised with a shock that he did not recognise any of the angry protestors. He had been far too busy to get to know these people. He and his team had saved them but they had not spent any time getting to know them and he now looked out on a sea of angry strangers. How could he not have seen this coming?

There was a scuffle from the back of the room as more people arrived and Harris recognised a few familiar faces at last, though they were far fewer than he would have liked. The fact that they were familiar did not guarantee that they would side with him, either. Maybe he had been wrong, after all. Did no one agree with him that they must do what was necessary to save as many as they could?

“Tonight was the last straw,” Phelps continued, drawing every second of dramatic pause he could from the audience, playing them like a world-class pianist would his instrument. In fact, the only thing that took away from his performance at all was the nervous licking of his lips between statements. “I am reluctant to thrust myself to the front like this,” he paused again here and the crowd urged him on, “but someone has to stand up for the safety and good of us all.” The crowd cheered again and Harris merely stood, as if rooted in place, as the scene played out around him.

He was helpless until he knew what Phelps was up to. Phelps had picked his time well, for the newest prisoners that had just come in were still being weaned from the serum and so were not here. Phelps was aware, of course, that their delight in being rescued would manifest itself as huge support for Harris and his team so he had chosen a time when their arrival would have the most impact on the people already in the community.

Harris had been aware of the grumblings about having to share their meagre resources with these new arrivals, but his argument had always been that once the serum killed the rest of humanity, there would be nobody else left alive on the planet so they had to act now. Could no one else see that? These new arrivals should be seen as an important and essential addition to their growing community, not a threat to their survival.

The rest of the committee members began to climb onto the platform and Harris sighed with some relief. At least now they would see where Phelps was going with this and maybe he would finally be able to respond.

“Ah, our illustrious leader is here,” Phelps announced, and one look at Phil Regan’s face convinced Harris that he was as confused as Harris was as to Phelps’ intentions. That did not bode well. Patricia Lohan arrived with Regan, and she cast an angry glare at Phelps which the man missed as he turned back to the crowd, but Harris saw it and so too did Father Reilly. The two men questioned each other with their eyes but neither saw anything in the other’s expression to feel any more confident.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Regan blustered as he strode across the platform.

“It is time, dear Leader,” Phelps answered, “to stop this man’s single-minded crusade to get us all killed.”

“That is a matter for the committee in a closed room session and you know it, Ian,” Regan had to shout over the roars of approval from the crowd, and Harris raised his opinion of Phil Regan by a few notches. He might not like the man, he might have ideas well above his own abilities, but at least he stood up for his committee members.

“I’m afraid we’ve gone beyond that, dear Leader,” Phelps’ words oozed sarcasm as he again licked his lips before continuing cutting off any reply Regan might have made. “We have stood quietly till now and shared everything we have all worked hard to produce. We have shared our last crumbs with the poor refugees that have been thrust upon us and we have supported the gallant work of our colleagues as they continued their relentless campaign against all the advice, and indeed, wishes of the committee and general populace.” Father Reilly was about to speak but Harris grabbed his hand and shook his head; they would have to let this play out. Interrupting now would only inflame the crowd. Phelps had, after all, only spoken the truth. Harris had disobeyed many of the committee’s orders.

“But when it comes to telling the vampires where we live and endangering our wives’ and our children’s lives then I, reluctantly, have to step forward and say no.” The crowd cheered. “If no one else will speak out for the children then I will do so.” The crowd cheered louder.

“This is not the forum for this, we will address this in council and we will ensure the safety of this community,” Regan insisted and made to leave.

“No,” Phelps said simply but the word was like a brick wall to Regan, who stopped halfway across the platform.

“What did you say?” Regan turned slowly toward his Lieutenant.

“The time has come and gone when a simple slap on the wrist will suffice.” Phelps turned from Regan and addressed the crowd instead. “Harris has ignored every order this council has made and gone out and continued to increase the number of people in this community. While this is laudable to some extent, we simply cannot feed any more people without starving ourselves.” The crowd shouted their agreement but there were some in the crowd who did not agree. “Maybe next year, after the spring harvest, we can then go out and bring more people in. For now, we must think of our own survival.”

“You know as well as I do that next year will be too late,” Father Reilly stepped forward, ignoring Harris’ attempt to grab him. “The serum …”

“Yes,” Phelps interrupted, “the serum. Very convenient, that, isn’t it? We still have no proof that this serum will kill everyone as you say. With all due deference to Mister Smith, he is only a chemist and not an expert in the field by any means. He could be wrong.”

“But …”

“No,” Phelps interrupted again. “This is not about the serum. This is about the flagrant disregard for the safety of others; it’s about recklessly endangering this community as a whole. It’s about forcing these good people to starve through the winter, and it’s about not only telling the vampires that we exist at all, but where we live.”

There was a shocked silence. Phelps had left that gem for last and everyone was stunned. The committee had known, of course, but it had been decided that the rest of the community should not be told that part of Harris’ plan.

“That’s not the full story and—” Sandra Harrington stepped forward but Phelps easily cut her off.

“You will notice she did not deny the charge.” Phelps grinned and Harris could see that he was enjoying himself. “Less than an hour ago we had a visit from a vampire - in our very home.” A muttering swept through the crowd. “They know we are here because Peter Harris told them. And do you know why?” Phelps swept the crowd with his stare and counted the seconds before speaking again. “Because Mr. Smith had determined that the very serum that is meant to kill those taking it is also killing the vampires. If he is to be believed, and again this has not been proven, all we have to do is wait till spring and this nightmare will all be over.”

“Now wait a minute, there is more to it than that….”

“I do not want this responsibility, but,” Phelps ignored the interruption and continued on, “if we are to die because of one man’s misguided sense of charity, then I think we should all have a say in his punishment.”

The crowd was silent now. There had been far too much to take in. The vampires had caused so much pain and death, how could anyone want to save them? How could anyone endanger them all so recklessly? They had been annoyed with Harris at the start of the meeting but this was far worse than bringing too many refugees in and forcing them to share what little they had. This was traitorous.

Father Reilly scanned the crowd and saw nothing to give him any hope. When laid out the way Phelps had done, Harris looked like a maniacal traitor. He tried to compile an answer in his head, tried to order the words that would explain how these events had come about and how important for their survival Harris’ actions had been, but the words would not come. Phelps had said too much and had outplayed them all. He had not realised the extent of Ian Phelps’s preparation, or indeed, the hatred that drove the man.

He did not know what to do.

Harris recovered slowly from the shock of Phelps’ words. There was no way he could put his case across to this crowd, he could see the cold fury in all their faces. Phelps had won. It was now a matter of trying to limit the fallout.

“We should all, as a community, be allowed to vote on what to do with such a man, and whether he should even be allowed to remain with this community.”

My God, thought Harris, he’s serious; he wants to throw me out. Harris itched to reveal that he wasn’t the traitor. He hadn’t told the vampires where they were. He wanted to explain everything; how the serum would kill the humans and leave the vampires without food. How the vampires would be driven mad by the serum before it killed them, and how that would send them into a feeding frenzy which would leave everyone dead, including them, as the vampires tore the country apart in their desperate search for food.

He wanted to explain how Von Richelieu had already known where they were and that they would all need to work together if they wanted to figure out why he had done nothing with the knowledge up till now. But he couldn’t find the right words. Phelps’ accusations had hit him hard. There was just enough truth in them to make Harris realise that he had been far too reckless with the community’s safety. Maybe Phelps was right. Maybe he should be sent away.

The crowd began to chant, and it took Harris a while to make out what they were saying and a cold fear gripped his stomach. They were shouting for blood. Banishment wasn’t going to be enough. They had been pushed too far, Phelps had appealed to their basest fears and instincts, and now they were responding in kind. Harris went pale as the chant grew louder in some sections in the crowd. Others seemed to be shouting in anger at other elements in the crowd and the whole room threatened to blow.

“That is enough.” Harris was surprised to see Phelps step forward and calm the crowd. “We are not here to kill one of our own like a rabid mob. We are here only for justice. I will not condone such behaviour. This man,” he pointed toward Harris, “may have acted rashly and against our better judgement, but he did act the way he thought was right. If I thought he could restrain himself from rescuing more people I would happily keep him among us, but I know him too well.”

The crowd cheered Phelps for his charity and Harris began to wonder how much of this was staged and how much was just blind luck and good crowd management.

“Harris,” Phelps continued, “it is with regret that I now pass sentence on you.” He looked over at Regan as if daring him to interrupt, but Regan knew when a crowd was beyond salvation and he remained quiet. “You will be removed from this community this very night, never to return. May God have mercy on your soul.”

The crowd cheered and Phelps began to move to the side, waving to the crowd as he lapped up their applause. But not everything was to go as he had planned that night.

Sandra Harrington stepped forward. “I will stand with Peter Harris.” The shouting stopped suddenly and Phelps found himself halfway across the platform with his hands still raised in triumph but with no applause to help him on his way. Harris moved to her side and tried to speak but she merely slid her hand into his and gave a tight squeeze, warning him to remain quiet.

“My dear,” Phelps began, “there is no need…”

“I too stand with Harris.” Philip Warkowski pushed his way through the crowd and lumbered up the steps with a snort of disgust and a baleful glare at the crowd.

“Mister Warkowski,” Phelps assured him, “your part in Harris’ actions is not in question here. You are a valued member …”

Phelps suddenly stopped in mid-sentence as he saw Warkowski looking at him with a quizzical expression.

“What are you looking at?” he stammered and licked his lips nervously, uncomfortable with the big man’s glare.

The huge man merely shrugged and replied. “I was trying to determine whose side you’re on, Mr. Phelps, and the answer does not fill me with confidence. You are sending this man alone into hell and I, for one, am happy to follow him there rather than remain where travesties like this can be allowed to happen.” Warkowski had never spoken more than a few words at any time before and this speech surprised everyone. “It has been his courage and passion which has allowed this community to flourish in the first place and it is your brand of hatred which will see it fall. You have twisted the truth tonight for your own ends and these people will see through you at some point. I pray it is before they live to regret it.”

Silence descended over the meeting room and then Phelps coughed nervously and licked at his dry lips. “Surely you won’t subject your family to this, man. I mean, it’s …”

“Certain death,” Warkowski interrupted with a raised eyebrow and Phelps lowered his eyes. No one had actually talked about what banishment would actually mean. No one had come out and called it a death sentence and Warkowski’s words had hit everyone hard. Phelps immediately offered a place in the community for all family members, regardless of the decision of any other members of their family, but Warkowski’s wife pushed through the crowd with their daughter’s hand held firmly in hers.

“Mr. Phelps,” she announced as she crossed to her husband. “We are a family. Peter Harris and his team risked their lives to rescue my husband and he, in turn, crossed a city infested with vampires to rescue us. How can any of you expect us to abandon either of them? Shame on you. Shame on all of you.” Some elements of the crowd cheered her words and others shouted at those who cheered. People began to push as the crowd began to fragment into niches that reflected their differing views. Ian Phelps raised his hands to try and regain control, but just then April Cassavettes pushed her way through the crowd and made her way up the steps.

She was totally unaware that her appearance had caused everyone to stop. She had not heard the shouting that preceded her appearance, nor noticed the silence that fell over the room as she made her way to the stage. Her diminutive size and determined expression made many blush with embarrassment. Harris immediately signed to her to stay but she responded with a blistering flurry of sign that few could follow, though her steely expression left nobody with any doubt as to her meaning.

It had been a little like picking sides for a game when you are young as Harris and his small group stood defiantly to the side and waited for anyone who wanted to join them to come forward. Pat Smyth came forward but Harris had placed his hand on his friend’s shoulders and asked him to stay, his research was just too important and there would be no facilities where they were going. The little man tried hard to argue but Harris was firm and, reluctantly, Pat returned to the community, though, in an act of defiance, he remained apart from the main crowd.

Father Reilly moved toward Harris as well, and a gasp of shock rippled through the community. He was still their only priest and his previous injuries still plagued him. His face was grey but determined as he crossed to the smaller group. Harris had been honoured that he had chosen to join them but, again, he had been forced to refuse his help. The community needed him too much.

Denis Johnson was the biggest surprise. The man moved forward confidently, his brightly coloured shirt almost glowing in its intensity against his dark skin. Harris had been too shocked to refuse the man. He didn’t know Johnson very well, though his actions since he had been voted on to the previous committee had proven to be fair and well thought out.

As a current serving member on the council, his loss would only work for Phelps as Regan could now vote his own choice to the council. This would leave only Father Reilly and Lucy Irvine remaining who would have any sympathy toward Harris and his small group. This worried Harris greatly, but he did not argue with the big man. Instead he smiled warmly and shook Johnson’s hand. Both men knew the risks involved in taking this step but sometimes you just had to go with the flow.

The addition of Johnson led to three more people coming forward, two men and one woman. The woman made it quite clear where she stood as she crossed and stood beside Johnson and slipped her hand in his. She gave him a quizzical look that led Harris to wonder if Johnson had really thought through what he was doing. His partner was obviously as surprised as Harris had been, though, to her credit, she had made her own decision quickly enough. She was a striking woman with short hair that fell to her shoulders and curled inwards to frame her face. Her eyes were almost cobalt and blazed with an intensity that was only heightened by her soft, chocolate skin.

Her name was Delilah Franklin and Harris had known that Johnson and she had hooked up together, though her immediate reaction to his joining Harris’s group indicated how serious they were. One of the men was her brother Benjamin, never Ben, Harris remembered as the joking just never stopped with people carrying old $100 notes and asking the young man why his picture didn’t match his actual appearance.

It had been funny for a while, but then it had worn thin and Benjamin had announced that he would prefer to be addressed as Benjamin. However, the level of fun people had with him was as nothing compared to when his sister walked into a room and people broke into spontaneous renditions of “Why Why Why Delilah?,” so he had taken the fun with good nature.

He had been training with Harris since he had been weaned off the serum. He and his sister had been among those rescued a month or so before the huge rescue so they had already found their feet in the community but were not there so long that they had formed strong ties. He had been a state trooper before the vampires had come, though at twenty-two he had only just joined the force. He was good at taking orders but still walked, or strutted, as any young man would who thought themselves indestructible. The other man was unknown to Harris but he seemed to be following Benjamin’s lead. His broad shoulders and huge muscled arms would be a great help, so Harris wasn’t concerned as to his motivations. Just as they were about to leave there was a commotion at the back of the room and raised voices caused everyone to turn.

“You can’t go,” they heard a high-pitched voice plead, and then a young boy pushed through and looked defiantly at Phelps for a moment before he continued up the steps and joined the small group. The boy couldn’t have been more than fifteen and Harris searched his memory for the boy’s name, something like Rick, he thought, but wasn’t sure. The boy was an orphan, or at least his parents hadn’t been found yet, though they could still be alive somewhere.

“Ricks,” a girl of around the same age finally made her way though the main throng of people until she stood half way between the two groups. She stopped suddenly as if unsure what to do next.

“Conor,” she repeated more softly, “you can’t go. You’ll be killed.” The girl pleaded but seemed unable to move any further toward him. Just then a number of other children between the ages of thirteen and seventeen made their way though the main group and stood with the young girl.

“I have to,” Ricks answered her. “Harris is the only one likely to rescue any more people and my parents are still out there.” He lifted his hands as if he was about to speak again and then dropped them in frustration when he couldn’t find the words he was looking for.

“I have to,” he repeated with a sigh. “As long as there’s a chance.” He shrugged and looked at the girl and the faces of those standing behind her.

There was a shocked rumble in the room as the young man’s words hit a chord.

“Conor Ricks, you’re too young to fight the vampires,” the girl argued and then turned to Phelps as her face lit up, “Mr. Phelps, tell him you’ll continue to look for his parents.”

Phelps looked as if he’d been slapped in the face and an awkward silence descended over the room. Harris turned to the young man who now stood before him.

“Son,” he began as he looked the boy in the eyes. “I can’t promise to find your parents. You know that, don’t you?”

“Maybe not,” the boy sighed, “but I bet you’ll at least try, won’t you?”

Harris looked into the boy’s eyes. He should lie, he knew, he should tell this boy that he wouldn’t look for his parents and get him to stay with the community. But there had been enough lies told already and he had had enough.

“Yes,” he sighed, “I’ll keep looking until I find them or die trying.”

“That’s enough for me,” the boy replied. “I want to help.”

“Glad to have you, Conor.”

“Ricks,” the boy interrupted politely, but forcefully, and Harris nodded.

“No,” the girl sobbed and a single tear began to roll down her cheek. Ricks walked back to the steps and crossed to the girl, where he put his arms around her awkwardly. She leaned against him and Harris noticed that one of the other boys began to move forward but was held back by a much larger boy. The rest of the room remained silent as the scene played out.

“Hey, Emma,” he said softly and she looked up at him.

“You’ve never called me Emma before,” she said quietly and Harris felt a sudden embarrassment at listening to such an intimate moment.

“I’ll be careful.”

The moment stretched on, and then the girl suddenly leaned up and kissed him on the lips.

“You’d better or I’ll kill you myself,” she smiled bravely and then turned to join her friends. Ricks returned to the platform. A woman who was probably the girl’s mother pushed through and put a hand awkwardly on her shoulder and Harris wondered if it was more an action of restraint rather than consolation. After that four more men came forward, all of them current trainees for Harris’s expeditionary force.

“Geez, if the kid can go, how can we stay?’ one of the men said simply as he smiled at Harris and moved to join the others. And that had been it. In all, fourteen of them had left that night, though those who were left did not feel quite so righteous as they had expected to feel. The worried expression that Phelps had worn as he watched the small group leave, his tongue constantly wetting his lips like a demented lizard, had almost been worth it. The community too had been split, with many unsure whether the punishment was truly fitting. Harris had though he could see a rift forming even as he watched and then he had turned and walked out with his small band following.

Harris had left in a daze that night. He could admit to himself now that he had had no idea where he and his small band of exiles could go as they left the city, but he was certain of one thing: Ian Phelps had just risen to his number one suspect for the traitor that threatened all their lives. He had wanted to counter Phelps’s arguments with the revelation that there was a traitor amongst them but it hadn’t been the time. For one thing, he would have been asked where his knowledge came from and, having to admit that a vampire had told him, even if that vampire had been Steele, would only have made him seem petty. And that would have only weakened his position further.

He could not even use the fact that Von Richelieu had already known of their existence before Steele had reached him because, quite simply, he would not have been believed. It would have been seen as a desperate gamble and one that would only have alerted the traitor that his own existence was already known. No, he would have to take his defeat in this battle and prepare for the next round. He must keep his knowledge of the traitor a secret for now, especially when he still had no idea what the traitor’s motivation might be or even why Von Richelieu had allowed them to live all this time.

Only Sandra, Pat Smyth, Father Reilly and Warkowski knew anything about the traitor and he planned on keeping it that way. He would keep an eye on the community and wait for the bastard to make a mistake, and then he’d pounce. The community may have turned their back on him but he had no intention of leaving them to their fate. There was something playing out here that he didn’t understand as yet. Did Von Richelieu really want to cull the numbers of vampires in the world and was he prepared to let millions of humans die in agony to ensure this happened?

He wasn’t even sure if the traitor had already given away their actual location or just their existence. The community should move to be on the safe side but to do so with the traitor still amongst them was folly. And Von Richelieu obviously didn’t want them dead quite yet. He had something planned for this community. Though what it might be was beyond him at the moment.

God, he thought. What a tangled web it had all become. He and his small group had set up camp just outside of the main city in a nearby suburb that was still within the protection of the wireless network. He had spent most of the night alone while the others got to know each other. It wasn’t that he was rude to them, but all could see that he had a lot of thinking to do so they had quietly introduced themselves to the group and settled down while he had sat away from them and considered his options.

Their first problem was shelter. There were plenty of houses, of course, but the vampires would sense them in no time if they merely moved into the first house they found. They could not stay within the protection of the wireless network either or they would risk some form of action from the community. Harris had been over most of the state in the last year both before they had defeated Nero and during their expansion after his demise. There were many other settlements within what had been Nero’s territory but they had left these alone up till now.

While it had made some sense to tackle these before moving into Von Kruger’s or Wentworth’s territories he had decided that the situation they were in at that time was both unique and time sensitive. He had thought that they could save far more people if they could set the states against each other, and he had been right, as it turned out.

There was, of course, the chance that these other communities within Nero’s territory would, at some point, attempt to contact their now dead leader, but their extensive questioning of Nero’s defeated thralls had left Harris and the others happy that there had been little contact between the communities within Nero’s state when he had been in control. They shouldn’t notice anything untoward with the current situation, at least for a while yet.

But their existence did, however, restrict Harris and his small group in how far they could actually travel from the community before they ran the risk of entering another vampire’s territory. His decision, therefore, somewhat reluctantly due to the memories that would be there for all of them, was to return to ‘The Cave’ where their last stand against Nero had taken place.

The fact that it was underground would shield them from the vampires’ senses and it would keep them close enough to the community that they could return if they were needed. It also had the benefit of hidden areas where gardens were already ready for planting. It would take a huge cleanup effort before it would be comfortable, but it did make the most sense. Harris had already made a start on the cleanup of the Cave over the last few months without the knowledge of anyone else. He had long ago decided that their survival might very well depend on backup plans being made, and he had a number of caches of weapons and some small food supplies dotted around the city in case they were needed, although, even in his worst nightmares, he had never envisioned the situation he now found himself in.

The Cave was far too big for the small team as it was, but it did give them somewhere to go while they took stock and made some decisions.

The chatter of gunfire brought him back to reality like a slap. The battle had begun.

Chapter 5

The lead vehicle was a pickup of sorts, though with a few modifications. The basic chassis was that of a pickup but someone had added a lethal-looking heavy machine gun in the back which swivelled on an upright strut, and there were heavy metal sheets surrounding the thrall who held tightly to the trigger guard. Metal sheets also lined the sides and the rear. It must have been hard on the engine but the thralls were more interested in security than performance, it seemed.

The extra protection did little to protect the occupants, however, when an RPG missile flew from the small hillock to the right of the road. It struck the vehicle through the front grill, where overheating problems had led the thralls to remove the metal sheeting earlier. The vehicle slammed to a stop in a fireball that nearly blinded Harris in the pale light. Metal sheets were ripped from their supports and sent in all directions with the force of the explosion.

Shrapnel tore through the air and pinked loudly off the metal sheeting on the vehicle behind. Harris stayed down for another moment as he heard the air above him whistle with shards from the destroyed vehicle. He heard a few cries and knew that some of the shrapnel had found its way into thrall flesh. Then he leapt upwards and opened fire on the second vehicle on the road. He heard supporting fire from further down to his left as the rest of his forces joined him but he ignored this as he focused on his mission. He launched the grenade loaded into the attachment on his XM8 and then switched to machinegun and began to fire in three-round bursts even before the grenade had exploded under the stationary truck.

The thralls had reacted far quicker than he expected, though, and the grenade lifted an almost empty truck and turned it on its side as the last of its occupants jumped to safety. The thralls spread out immediately to find what cover they could, firing as they moved, and some of them rushed back behind the overturned truck and used it for cover.

He saw one or two stagger and fall but the majority of them made it to the relative safety of the ditch which ran the length of the road. These thralls were very well trained and moved as if they had expected such an ambush. He pumped another grenade but it exploded harmlessly against the overturned truck and Harris was forced to drop back into cover as bullets stitched the air around him.

The trucks had not seemed to have that many thralls in them when they had first spied the patrol, but now there seemed to be far more thralls than seemed possible to fit in the cramped vehicles. This was very definitely a trap, though whether it had been intended for his forces or Nero’s, he wasn’t certain. Either way, this did not bode well. Now that Carter had control of the two states he had more time and resources to mount more of these patrols, and Harris and his group did not have enough people, trained or otherwise, to take on these well-equipped patrols.

He was wrenched out of his thoughts as the thralls began to advance. He had hoped that they would stay behind cover and allow Harris to withdraw his forces, but these soldiers were far better trained than that. In fact, they were better trained then Harris and his men and already they had begun to spread out along the ditch, forcing his assault group to cover too large an area. Harris could see that his group were already stretched too thinly and that the thralls had already made it halfway up the slope and were unleashing blistering fire; keeping his men down while others leapfrogged their way further up the hill. Bullets sang in the air above his head and Harris was forced to duck down again. He had just caught a glimpse of a few thralls break from the cover of the third truck down and run along the road but the barrage of fire had been too great to stop them.

He knew instinctively that these thralls would continue down the road and then come up behind them in a few minutes, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was positioned at the end of the ambush party and was probably the only one to have seen the flanking party, but the thralls below him kept up a withering fire on his position and he was forced to curl up behind his cover and wait for the thralls to complete their manoeuvre.

His group wouldn’t have a hope if the thralls got behind them. The thralls would pick them off easily in the crossfire and Harris couldn’t even signal the others. They had stopped using radios quite some time ago when Sherman had told them that the signal could be detected. They relied now on hand signals, which had worked well when they had attacked targets which were not expecting them. Shit, he thought as he cursed Sherman yet again for betraying them. They really needed someone with Sherman’s skills and experience, someone who knew how to do this.

There were twelve in the ambush party but not all of them were deployed as he would have liked. He had put Ricks over on the far side with the RPG as it was flatter there and gave the boy a clear shot at the road and had left April with him. He still considered both of them far too young to take a more active roll in the fighting.

Now, he wished he had put a few bodies on that side as he would have had a good crossfire at the thrall positions and they wouldn’t now be in danger of being overrun. At the time, the relatively flat, open plain had seemed too much of a risk as cover was sparse. Besides, if he was honest, he had expected that the thralls would be as easy to handle as before and he would not need to overexpose his men or add complexity to what seemed to be a simple ambush.

He knew now that he should have had a few of the men dig in and cover themselves with soil and lie in wait. Instead he had deployed all his forces along the gentle hillock which ran parallel to the road. Unfortunately, the very slope that had hidden his group in the initial attack now offered the same protection to the thralls as they advanced towards them. And there were more of them.

Was this a trap? He wondered as he curled into a ball when a grenade tore into the earth beside him and threw soil over him. Or were they just expecting trouble from Nero and had come prepared? Harris retreated back further behind the incline he had just come from as the rate of fire increased. The last truck on the road still had its heavy machine gun working and it was pounding the entire line of the slope with heavy calibre fire, giving the thralls plenty of time to advance further up the slope, and all the time the other thralls were making their way around them. If this continued much longer they would be trapped in the very crossfire he should have set up.

Harris curled up smaller behind his meagre cover and realised with a crushing blow that he just didn’t have what it took to take on well-trained combat veterans. This was an entirely different war. This time, the enemy were ready and able to fight back, and his limited training just wasn’t enough. Unless God himself intervened, he had just gotten his entire force killed by being overconfident.

He heard a sudden thump that nearly blew his eardrums and he risked a quick look over the slope to see what had happened. The truck that had housed the last remaining machine gun was in flames and he saw two figures cross from the far side of the road and pour fire into the exposed rear of the thralls sheltering behind the overturned truck before he was forced back behind cover again by the thralls on the slope. The level of fire on his position suddenly reduced without the heavy machine gun pinning him down, and some of the thralls on the slope turned their attention to the attack to their rear. Harris was finally able to get to his knees and check the load in the magazine.

He heard sporadic gunfire coming from the positions of his own forces and knew that they too had an opportunity to fight back now that the heavy machine gun was gone. It would be a very brief rally, though, if he could not take out the force that, even now, must almost be in position behind him. He took a deep breath and popped his head around the rock he was using for cover, trying to mark the positions of the thralls on the slope. He then dodged quickly back as bullets tore into the side of the rock and sent dust and shavings into his eyes. He hadn’t seen the thralls on the slope but he had seen a small puff of smoke before he dodged back behind the rock and he crawled to the other side of the cover and pictured the position of the thrall in his mind.

Without further thought he rolled out from behind the rock and stitched a line of fire in the general direction he thought the thrall to be. If he had chosen the wrong position then he would be terribly exposed, but then, if he had chosen incorrectly he would also be dead from the thralls who were flanking him. At least this way, he had a fighting chance.

He weapon suddenly clicked on empty and he realised with a curse that he had held his finger on the trigger too long. All the training in using three round bursts had gone out of his head when his fear had taken over. He was a sitting duck where he was and he panicked as he groped for a spare magazine. His heart hammered as he finally got the magazine in place and slammed it home, expecting to see a thrall peek from cover and pour fire into his unprotected position.

But no fire came. He scrambled forward, remaining low to the ground, and saw the glazed eyes of a thrall just left of where he had thought the fire had come from. There was a neat hole in his forehead and, from what he could see, no other marks at all. He had missed with every other shot.

Harris looked along the slope and could see that his own forces were beginning to pour fire down on the thralls along the slope, and the thralls were trying to return fire up the slope and still cover themselves from the fire from the road where Ricks and April continued to pour fire from behind the overturned truck. Harris nodded in satisfaction and moved back away from the fighting to try and see where the flanking thralls were.

They were far closer than he had expected and he actually came face to face with one of them as he crawled around the cover. The thrall was as surprised as he was but Harris recovered first as the thrall had not expected to find his prey moving toward him. Harris rolled to the side and pulled the trigger, his finger freezing on the trigger in shock and pouring round after round into the thrall. The bullets tore into the flesh of the thrall, spinning him around like a demented marionette. His face was torn and shredded after the first few rounds but Harris was still in shock and locked his finger on the trigger, empting the magazine for a second time. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn’t hear anything else but the thump-thump of the blood rushing through his system.

His hands shook as he thumbed the magazine release and brought his hand down to his pocket to pull another magazine free. Only there wasn’t another magazine. And then he saw a second and then the third thrall rush from cover as if in slow motion. The thralls were only thirty yards from him now and their weapons jerked as they fired toward him. Luckily, their movement as they ran caused their shots to fly wild but their sheer strength kept their weapons steady enough that the shots were getting closer. A bullet grazed his right leg and the pain seemed to help him focus. Harris tucked his arms in and rolled back toward the slope as the thralls closed the gap. Another bullet pinged off a rock beside his face and something tore into his forehead.

Suddenly he rolled over something hard and, for a second, he thought that a bullet had hit him in the side. His hand was crushed painfully against something hard and cold and, instinctively, he grabbed at it. He found he was holding a thrall machine gun by the barrel and his heart skipped a beat. Another bullet ploughed into the ground just beside his face and dust flew into his eyes, blinding him. Suddenly the thralls’ weapons went silent and he heard a curse and the metal sliding as they changed their magazines.

He did not have time to wipe his eyes and check his newfound weapon so he merely reversed the machine gun, pointed it in the direction he thought the thralls to be, and pulled the trigger. His eyes were watering badly as they tried to clear the dust and, by the time he could see vague shapes, the machine gun was empty. He steeled himself for the bullet that would strike his body but nothing came.

He wiped at his eyes and the scene slowly came into focus. Both thralls lay dead in front of him. His body began to shake uncontrollably as he realised how close he had been to death. He could hear more fire behind him as his forces still continued to fight for their lives, but he was incapable of moving at that moment. He had never been so scared in his life or so close to death, and he was totally unprepared for the shock that racked his body.

He continued to see the muzzles of the thralls’ weapons in his mind as they pointed at him. They seemed to grow until the darkness within seemed to reach out to him, as if it could swallow him whole. He wasn’t certain how many thralls had made it behind them, he thought it had been three but he couldn’t be certain. He tried to force himself to rise and check for any more thralls, or at least to help his men, but he couldn’t move.

He could feel the pain in his leg and along his forehead, he was distantly aware that something warm was seeping down his face. But he found he could not move, despite the angry curses he directed at himself. In the distance the gunfire reduced and then stopped completely. He lay there on the grass and strained to hear voices, orders, anything that would give him a clue as to who, if anyone, was still alive. Had they won or was everyone dead? Tears of frustration poured down his cheeks as he tried to roll over and get to his feet, but his body would do nothing except shake.

Finally he heard movement behind him but he had to wait until whoever it was came into his field of vision. At one level he prayed that it would be one of his men, but, on another, he did not want them to see him like this. He heard the familiar high voice of Ricks and he felt relief wash over him. They had won after all. But it had been too close. He had wanted to protect the younger members of the team, and in so doing had exposed the rest of the team to unacceptable risk. He had nearly gotten them all killed today.

These thralls had been ready and waiting for an attack and they’d been well trained on how to turn the tide of the battle on their attackers. He had been overconfident and his inexperience had been plain when the ambush had gone wrong and he had had no backup to counter the thrall’s response. Worse than that, though, was the fact that he had frozen when they needed him most.

But who had these thralls been expecting an attack from - Nero’s thralls or humans? Had the thralls figured out where they were or was this just a coincidence? Either way, they couldn’t afford to assume they were still safe on this side of the state line. This new development would only make their survival even harder now. He would also have to warn Phelps and his community: the wireless protection wouldn’t stop the thralls if they came looking for them.

These thoughts, and others, continued to flood his mind as he became aware of raised voices close by. He felt hands on his body as they searched for wounds but then everything began to go black. He saw Sandra’s face swim before him briefly, but whether this was real or imagined he wasn’t sure.

And then the darkness washed over him.

Chapter 6

Walking into the Cave was less like a homecoming and more like returning to the scene of a great tragedy. Sandra Harrington felt her hand grope for Harris’ before she knew what she was doing and she ignored his glance as she saw him turn toward her out of the corner of her eye. The house above the complex had been completely destroyed by the thralls and the vampires a few months ago during their assault. It looked empty and desolate and yet it was still filled with memories. They had not spent very long here before but, somehow, it seemed to retain the very essence of those they had left behind. She could almost see their faces among the ruins as she approached the main entrance to the house.

She still wasn’t convinced that this was a good idea. There were just so many memories here in these walls. Her father had died here, along with too many of her friends. But Harris was right about one thing, they had to stay somewhere and, being outside the protection of Adam Wilkins’ wireless disruptor and with the vampires’ incredible senses to consider, she had to admit that it certainly made sense to stay here. Even if it tore her apart emotionally to do so.

The thoughts of her father made her suddenly falter and Harris stopped beside her. To his credit, he didn’t rush her. She had not known her father long in peace time. His long estrangement from her mother had left a hole in her life that she had not realised was there until she had begun to spend time with him again. It had been just before the war that she had visited him, and then events had overtaken them all. She still had no idea what had become of her mother, and it pained her to think of her in a cage somewhere, slowly dying of abuse and serum overdose.

She remembered how her father had told her one day, before the vampires had taken over completely, that she must put the fear and worry for her mother to one side if she wanted to remain sane. She had really tried to do that over the last two years. But it was hard. She and her mother had been so close, and she missed her guidance. In fact, she was spending so much time lately trying to work out what drove Peter Harris that she had pointedly ignored her own motivations and feelings. In a rare flash of clarity she realised that her own motives for continuing to fight were not a million miles away from his, though hers were a little more selfish. She wanted to find her mother, or at least remove the threat of the terrible death that the serum threatened while she continued the search.

She tried to shake her maudlin thoughts away but the house in front of her was so steeped in memories that she found it hard to lift herself. She took a deep breath and smiled briefly at Harris, who still waited patiently beside her. The others of the group were less understanding and they shuffled incessantly as they waited on her to move. Some of them kept glancing up to the clear blue sky as if expecting to see a plague of vampires rushing toward them. She wasn’t entirely sure why they were all waiting on her but assumed Harris had instructed them to allow her to lead them into the building.

She scanned the outside of the building as she tried to convince her legs to move. She took in the bullet holes that stitched along those few broken walls that still stood, though they were pitifully few and looked like jagged sentinels, lonely and forlorn, among the rubble. Through the shattered windows she could see glimpses of the destruction that had been wrought that day; furniture still lay overturned or shattered around the rooms and windows gaped like toothless mouths with the occasional shattered fragment still stuck stubbornly in the frame. Jesus, how did any of us actually get out of there, she wondered as she surveyed the damage.

She began to walk forward again but her legs seemed to grow weaker with every step. She really didn’t know if she was up to removing the bodies of her friends. Too much had happened in the last few weeks. They had lost too many good friends on their last raid and, even though they had saved over a thousand prisoners and driven a wedge between the vampires and the thralls, they had also caused a split within their own community. She wondered which would prove the more damaging in the long run.

While there had never been any question that she would follow Peter Harris, she did wonder briefly if they were following the best path. Their effectiveness as a group was questionable at best with their small numbers, but Harris had insisted that they continue on and his drive and confidence had been enough for the others to follow. At least, for now.

As the time approached when Pat Smith had said that the serum would begin killing prisoners en masse Harris seemed to grow more frantic and bold, trying to save as many as he could. While she could understand that he wanted to save others, and while it was commendable, he also had a duty toward those he had already saved. Time was running out and Harris seemed to be growing more desperate. Their last ambush was a perfect example.

While she agreed that it was essential that they stop the patrol from reporting back, it might have been better to have taken more time to plan and hit the patrol on their way back rather than executing a poorly planned and hurried ambush. While they had not lost anyone this time, they had been too close to being overrun and either killed or captured for her liking. The thralls were no longer the pushovers they had been. Something had changed, and they would have to adapt or die.

Her mind swirled with these troubled thoughts as she drew nearer the house. Her stomach squirmed as she noted the dark stains still covering the walls where blood had splattered during that mad, violent attack. At first she had thought that the stains were still growing, seeping further through the shattered walls like a cancer spreading ineluctably inch by inch, corrupting everything it touched, but she shook the feeling away. Vampires might be real, but a ruined, haunted house was just too much. Her legs almost buckled as the small group approached their new home. She really wasn’t ready to face the desiccated corpses of her friends.

She felt guilty that she had forgotten them once they had found their new home. They should have come back here and given them the respect they had earned through their sacrifice. Suddenly she felt unworthy. She was about to turn back when Harris moved to the side and motioned for her to enter. The rest of the group looked at her expectantly and she looked at the door with more than a little trepidation. For a moment the doorway seemed to become pitch black, as if there was nothing past the threshold except a dark, cold void. She began to turn back, already forming an excuse in her mind, when the sun suddenly popped out from behind a cloud and the door transformed back into merely a door.

She could see the interior now and, while it was still mostly cast in shadow, it appeared perfectly normal. She saw a number of dark patches on the floor where the waning sun could not reach and she imagined the terrible toll that the passage of time would have wrought on the bodies. Flashes of desiccated faces, pulled into horrible masks of terror by their violent deaths swam through her mind. She imagined their accusing stares, forever frozen in death, for leaving them to rot, forgotten and abandoned despite their grand sacrifice so that others could survive. Was it even safe to enter this building? Wouldn’t disease be rampant?

She shuddered as she imagined what horrors the rats would have inflicted on the rotting corpses but she forced her feet over the threshold despite her fear. These people deserved to be buried with honour and she resolved to do that much, at least. No matter how belatedly. She was still not certain she could actually live here again but she would make that decision after she had paid her respects to the dead. Having made the decision, and feeling a little better about herself, she entered the room.

Her eyes slowly grew accustomed to the gloom and she saw the closest mound on the floor in more detail. Where she expected to see an arm or a leg she noted that the mound was merely a rumpled piece of carpet. Another mound to her left was far too angular to be a body and she finally made out the sharp corners of a broken desk. The damage in the room was shocking but something was missing…something…and then she had it. Emotion flooded through her and she was almost overcome with the strength of her feelings towards Harris.

Even with all that had been happening over the last few months - with the constant patrols and internal squabbling, he had remembered them. Even when everyone else, including herself, had forgotten. He had not. Even with all his responsibilities and the terrible things people accused him of, he had been the only one who had remembered the dead. She leaned against Harris and kissed him briefly on the cheek, ignoring his winch of pain from the wounds across his face.

“Thank you,” she whispered and he shrugged and squeezed her hand. Sandra felt another rush of emotion flood through her. With all that had happened in the last few days, with the whole community shunning him and banishing him despite his actions being for their own good, and with the death of his closest friends, Harris had still somehow managed to come back here, clear away the bodies and give them a decent burial.

She realised with a sudden flash of understanding how deeply everyone’s death affected Peter Harris, how he blamed himself for each of their deaths, and, for a moment, she wondered how he kept going with all that guilt bottled up inside him. None of this was his fault, but no matter what she said to him she didn’t seem able to stop him taking all of the responsibility.

She wondered how he could possibly cope with the fact that those he had rescued had turned against him. He hadn’t said a word to her about it since they had left the community the night before and she worried that he would continue to internalise his feelings. She would have to work on that. But for now they had a lot of work to do. She looked around. The room seemed somehow brighter now that she knew that the dead had been laid to rest. Even the air seemed fresher. Harris hadn’t been able to hide the bulk of the damage, of course, but at least she had not had to face the rotting bodies of her friends. God, she thought, it must have been horrific clearing away the dead.

She came to the torn metal doors that led to the lower levels and shuddered. They had been peeled back like wet cardboard and she wondered again at how powerful the vampires truly were. Humans were like mosquitoes to them. What hope did they really have against such power? Especially now that they knew that the free humans existed.

She felt a heavy weight begin to press in on her as the reality of their situation hit her hard. They had all lost so much since they had first overcome the serum, the sacrifices they had all made in order to eke out a paltry existence, constantly under threat from their former inhuman masters. She had almost given up; especially when their blood and sacrifices had resulted in their being banished by those very people they had bled and died to rescue.

She was fairly sure she would have given up at that point if Harris hadn’t kept them all going. She had felt like shouting and cursing at the community for their disloyalty. Didn’t they realise that they would be dead now if she and her friends hadn’t risked their own lives constantly to rescue them? Ungrateful bastards. She felt a surge of anger toward the people of the community, and she had to take a number of deep breaths in order to regain control.

She didn’t know how Harris kept going. She had once thought that he was driven by an irrational need to put himself in danger, a death wish to somehow make up for the fact that he had survived when others hadn’t. But as she had grown to know him she realised that he was driven more by a strong sense of humanity rather than his own selfishness.

He was far more focused than she had first thought. Quite simply, he cared deeply about all of their futures and knew that the only hope they all had was by saving sufficient numbers to be able to survive in this new world. He might be too focused at times, and he was certainly blind to how his actions affected others, but his outlook was still more refreshing than that of those who acted only out of self-interest. It was this innocence and purity of motive, she supposed, that she had fallen in love with.

Oh, he wasn’t stupid - naïve yes - but he knew that their only chance to survive as a race was to gather together in sufficient numbers so that their community could survive. They would all die if they stagnated and remained a small community. But he cared deeply about those who were still helpless in the hands of the thralls and the vampires and she knew that the community’s banishment had hurt him more deeply than he cared to acknowledge.

She then remembered the faces of those they had saved as they had come out of the effects of the serum and she began to feel her resolve harden. The vampires were vicious bastards; their cruelty and complete disregard for their prisoners were repulsive. The fact that they had once been human themselves only made them more abhorrent. She would fight them with her last breath no matter what the others thought. The people they had saved were scared and easily manipulated by ruthless people, and they would deal with those later. For now, they had a job to do. She took a deep breath and walked past the ruined door and back into the Cave with a resolve that filled her with a purpose she had not felt in some time.

Chapter 7

Tanya Syn woke to the worst hangover she could ever remember. For a moment the pain seemed to be all that there was. Somehow everything else seemed to be missing. Memories, thoughts and feelings - all of them were gone. But the pain was there, demanding her attention and overpowering her senses. She knew it must be a hangover and that it must be the worst she had ever had, but other than that, there was nothing. Her brain wasn’t working properly. It was as if someone had steeped it in treacle overnight and all her thoughts were stuck in the thick syrup. She opened her eyes and quickly shut them again as light stabbed at her and burned through her skull.

She brought a hand to her aching temples. At least, she thought about bringing her hand up, but she couldn’t feel any movement. She felt panic begin to build within her and her heart began to thump faster. What the hell is going on, she thought with rising despair?

She forced herself to calm down. She had drunk too much, that was all. In a few minutes the pain would ease and she would be able to get up and take something for the pain. Her heart began to slow a little as her logic began to penetrate the fog of pain. All she had to do was wait a little longer. Suddenly, there was a scream to her right and she jumped and opened her eyes in shock. Light flooded in again and seemed to burn like hot lasers but she kept them open regardless. At first all she could see was an out-of-focus blur, as if she was looking through a window streaked with rain, but, slowly, it began to clear. The pain didn’t relent at all but now she used the pain to force her brain to work.

The first thing she noticed was that she was lying on hard tarmac. Why would I be lying on the ground? Where am I?

Suddenly a flood of memories gushed through her bruised head and her heart stopped in shock. She remembered the vampires, the killing and panic in Los Angeles as the city prepared for the inevitable attack that had already swept through the rest of the country. She finally remembered her own name, and then she remembered her children and she felt a scream build within her like a volcano.

Pain flooded through her but the scream would not be denied, and she unleashed a cry as forlorn and filled with despair as the one she had heard moments ago. As she screamed she was dimly aware of more screams beginning around her. She tried to move, to search for her children, but her body would not move and she was forced to look down at the ground as her body convulsed with pain and despair, helpless as the last few months began to play out like a movie reel.

As her mind began to slowly shake off the effects of the serum her overriding thoughts were for her two children. Jillian and Mark had been with her when the vampires had come but she had no memory of them after she had been taken prisoner. She tried to force her mind to remember but the pain threatened to send her back into oblivion. She felt her hand move slightly and she closed her fingers into a fist, relishing the pain as her nails cut into her palms and gave her something to focus on.

She forced herself to remember, searching for a clue as to her children’s fates. But there was nothing. She did, however, remember other parts of the last two years. She remembered the abuse by the thralls, the blooding when she had been so drained of blood that she had been cast aside and left to either die or recover by herself.

She was dimly aware of bodies being cast onto huge pyres by laughing thralls as those who had not survived were disposed of in the easiest way possible. Her numbed brain began to remember the stench of burnt flesh and faeces and despair began to roll over her in waves so large that she felt tiny and insignificant under their assault. There was only one thing that saved her from spiralling back into numbed bliss.

Her children needed her.

She never entertained the fact that they might be dead. They were alive, they had to be. And they would need her strength.

She forced her hand tighter into a fist and cried out as her nails bit deeper into her flesh. But this time she did not cry out in despair, this time there was an anger and hatred in her cries. She felt some of the lethargy in her mind ease as adrenaline gushed through her. She forced her head to the side so she could see around her. Light blinded her as the sun burned into her eyes but she welcomed the pain and forced a grim smile onto her face. She had no idea why she was coming out of the serum’s effects but she felt a cold hatred begin to form deep within her and she used the warmth of that hatred to force her body to move and her mind to clear.

She screamed again, using the release to vent the effects of the serum. She cursed the thralls for their cruelty, she cursed the vampires for their black appetites, and she cursed God for letting it all happen. Her mind continued to remember scenes from the last two years. None of it was pretty and her body seemed to burn from remembered pain and shame, but she used it all to stoke the fires of hatred in her belly.

There was a memory deep in her tortured mind that she somehow sensed she wasn’t ready to face yet - she didn’t know how, just that it would be too much for her in her fragile condition. But thoughts of her children forced her on. Anything she could use to drive the last of the effects away might help her find her children so she pursued the memory relentlessly until, finally, she felt something give and the memory flooded through her. Her hand unconsciously went to her stomach.

“You bastards!” she screamed and her throat felt like someone had rubbed it with sandpaper. The thralls had used her for their depraved fantasies countless times, and from that she had become pregnant. They had let her carry the child almost to full term and then they had ripped her unborn child from her womb for their masters’ vile hungers. Tears streaked down her cheeks and, in her shame, they felt like twin streams of acid. She felt her tenuous grip on sanity loosen a little and, for a moment, she feared she had gone too far.

She dug deeper into her flesh and screamed again. Her tortured throat burned and she used all the pain to focus on the memory of her children. She felt as though a truck had hit her, adrenaline surged through her and seemed to burn the hated serum as it purged through her. Her mind cleared a little more with every second she remained conscious. Already she could feel a tingling in the rest of her body as feeling returned like molten fire. Someone would pay, she promised herself. But first she had to find her children and God help anyone who stood in her way.

Von Kruger relished the feel of the wind on his face but it did little to calm his mood. He was surrounded by incompetents. He had managed to subdue an entire state of vampires still loyal to the deceased Wentworth in just a few weeks, and in that same time his Lieutenant had not been able to find any sign of the damned humans who had embarrassed him so badly.

He raged as he thrust his arms viciously through the chilled air. His swift victory over Wentworth’s forces, though, had left him with quite a dilemma. Two dilemmas, actually. His position as head of the vampires in both the states formerly known as Michigan and Indiana was uncontested at this point, but his position in the greater theatre was very tenuous indeed. He had not heard from the Council, and that worried him, though he would not let anyone suspect it. He was very worried that their response, and he was certain there would be a response, could take it all away from him. While he had been fighting Wentworth, and then during the campaign afterwards, he had paid little mind to what the Council might do. In fact, he had not thought of anything at all except the thrill of battle. His mind had simply shut down and a mad battle-lust had taken over.

The lust had lasted for as long as it took to subdue Wentworth’s territory, and only then had his mind seemed to fight back to a dominant position and let him, finally, consider his actions. While, in one way, it had been glorious to finally shake off the old ways and cut loose against opponents who were worthy of the effort, he was still chilled by the fact that he had lost control to such an extent.

He wasn’t quite sure what had possessed him but he had been unable to stop himself once the smell of fresh blood had hit him. It had only been his savagery that had allowed him to win against the other vampires as he had not planned any strategy, had not been able to think strategically in order to plan anything. He had simply devoured his enemies through sheer force. That would not work against the council, however, and when they responded he worried that the battle-lust would again strip him of his keen intelligence and leave him at their mercy.

Now that the battle-lust had finally drained away and his rational mind had finally begun to resurface his actions over the last few weeks shocked him. He expected a summons from the Council at any moment. After all, they could hardly let his actions go without censure. He had killed another vampire, many hundreds in fact. If they did nothing the message would go out to all the other states that open warfare was again permitted and anarchy would reign once again. While one part of him yearned for such reckless anarchy, he knew that only death and destruction lay down that path. He understood this on a rational level but found to his surprise that he was not as concerned as he thought he should be. He had broken an ancient law that defined them as a race, and all he could do was yearn for the freedom of doing it again.

Once he had come out of the battle-haze he had immediately set his mind to work in protecting what his orgy of violence had wrought. He had deployed his remaining forces around his borders as best he could to proclaim his strength to any other Lords who might see the transition of control as an opportunity for expanding their own territories. He would have to suppress any such actions viciously if he was to give the right impression. And that included how he must respond to the Council. But the threat from outside his territory was only one element of the problems that now faced him.

He had found, to his shock, that his remaining vampire army was far smaller than he had expected. The carnage had taken a terrible toll as each side had lost themselves to a crazed battle-lust. Hundreds of vampires on both sides had perished over the last few weeks and the number still shocked him. He had tried to instigate a program of finishing the conversion of some of his thralls to full vampire lords to replenish his forces, but he had found, to his amazement, that the thralls had not been idle while he had carved his way through his enemies. They too had consolidated their position, and they had a far larger force than he had.

The thralls had taken their opportunity well while he was engaged in suppressing Wentworth’s forces and had now gathered their forces under one banner. He had underestimated them and they had grown in strength and in confidence over the last few weeks to the point that they had even demanded an audience with him. Negotiate - with a thrall! He was still incredulous as he remembered how the envoys had come into his camp, full of their own importance. He had, of course, killed the three ambassadors, but he knew that he would have to meet with the thralls at some stage or risk tying up his forces on internal squabbling. And their new leader, Carter, obviously knew this. The thralls were essential to the survival of all vampires, but they were no longer as malleable as they once had been.

As powerful as he was, he could not protect himself during daylight. This fact had become painfully obvious during the Human War when the vampires had been forced to increase the number of thralls allowed to exist by a huge margin or risk defeat by the humans. Since then, of course, it had been easier to keep the thralls around and let them police the food for them and take care of the housekeeping that the vampires now considered beneath them. But, in this, he could now see, the vampires had made a mistake. Instead of securing their futures, they had handed the keys to their very survival to others.

It had been accepted, of course, that thralls were completely subservient to their vampire masters and that they could never rebel against their masters, but something had changed. The thralls had somehow overcome their conditioning.

A thrall had never before disobeyed a vampire that he knew of, but this Carter had not just disobeyed - he had committed the unthinkable and killed vampires. If he went to war with the thralls within his territory then the forces gathered on his borders would move against him as well, and he could not hope to win a battle on two fronts. In fact, he was not entirely sure that he could survive a war with either side on their own at this point.

The thralls also controlled the human population that was the vampires’ food supply so he would have to grant them some autonomy; the devil was in the details though. He could, of course, attack the thralls whenever they wanted food, but they would then retaliate during the hours of daylight and this would only leave both sides vulnerable to attack from other quarters.

Carter had already shown he was a force to be taken seriously by retaliating for the killing of his ambassadors by killing three of his vampires while they slept. This could rapidly spiral out of control if he did not respond appropriately. On top of all of these problems, he also had a band of very dangerous humans hiding out somewhere inside his new kingdom, and they, potentially, could be the biggest threat of all.

The fact that they had survived free this long attested to their abilities, but his main fear centred on those bullets they had used. He shuddered as he remembered how his forces had been torn to pieces by mere bullets. How had they done it? And how did they continue to remain hidden from his forces? He had twenty vampires on search detail even now and all of them kept coming back empty-handed. In desperation he had even risked forays into neighbouring states in case the humans were hidden past his borders. He had ensured that these forays did not stretch too far into the other Lords’ territories and that they were of small enough numbers so as not to be misinterpreted as an act of war.

In most cases, his patrols had been chased back quickly by large numbers of vampire patrols almost as soon as they had crossed the border. This heightened awareness on the part of his neighbouring states would make it almost impossible for the humans to constantly cross the border as they still continued to do, so he had almost discounted that theory.

However, there was one area that did not meet these high standards of security. One of his vampires had come back from Nero’s territory and reported surprisingly lax, almost non-existent, security. The vampire had not seen any other vampires in his brief foray and Von Kruger had ordered him to return, but this time to venture further into the territory to see what might be causing this.

The vampire had not, as yet, returned. This, of course, could be because that bastard Nero merely tore him apart and left him to burn in the dawn. It would be just like Nero to do such a thing. If anyone had been likely to go against the council and kill another vampire he would have betted on it being Nero. It still surprised him that it was he who had embraced his anger with such relish and not Nero.

It was unlikely, though, that any humans could exist in Nero’s territory that were not caged and helpless. Nero was a particularly singular vampire who would happily kill an ally as quickly as an enemy, so he might have to consider other options.

These humans perplexed him, though. It just wasn’t possible to hide from a vampire’s senses. A thought struck him. They must be underground. Far underground, he thought, for his forces had found many survivors after the war who had tried to hide in cellars shielded by concrete. They had found them all. No, these humans had to be hidden in a very well shielded complex, and any such complex would have been registered with the government before he and his kind had swept them away.

He grinned. He did not have the knowledge to run the searches necessary, but he did have a number of vampires who were young enough to have this knowledge. He would set them the task of compiling a list, and then he would meet with this thrall captain and offer to share this information. If his information was correct then Carter would jump at the chance to wipe out these troublesome humans as well. With any luck, both sides would weaken the other sufficiently enough for him to sweep in and crush them both. He smiled as his rage began to subside.

Maybe it wasn’t all bad, after all.

Chapter 8

Von Richelieu regarded the aid in front of him with a cool gaze and then struck while the vampire was in mid sentence. The sudden violence had so taken the whole room by surprise that many of those present did not realise what had happened until the vampire fell to the floor. Even for a vampire, the killing stroke had been blindingly quick. He turned his head and swept the faces in front of him in silence, noting their different reactions.

Many of the vampires fidgeted in their seats. He could tell that the sudden, pungent scent of blood was having a far greater effect on those vampires that still fed from the pool of humans still taking the serum while his closest aids, those who fed from the pool who were now clean, sat calmly and regarded their leader with interest. The humans certainly had something there. The tainted blood was definitely increasing the baser instincts of those vampires still using it. Steele had been right, after all. However, whether it would actually kill them or not had yet to be proven.

He brought his fingers to his mouth slowly and licked the blood from them. Vampire blood was very intoxicating. It was a strange mix of fresh, rich human blood tinged with decay from the vampire. There were rules which forbade the drinking of another vampire’s blood and he deliberately flaunted them now as he relished the taste. It was one of those ancient rules which had been brought in many centuries ago to ensure that vampires did not destroy each other.

There were many myths that told of how the blood of another vampire would strip a vampire of their powers and their strength, that it would drive a vampire insane. It was all rubbish of course. He was one of the few who actually remembered back to when vampires had fought regularly with each other, preferring the heady mix of another vampire’s tainted blood to the banal taste of that which coursed through the humans.

Vampires had not always been as cultured and aristocratic as they were to become. Once, they had been like creatures of the wild, individual and all-powerful among other beasts. They lived to feed and survived purely by instinct. They lived solitary lives and defended their territories viciously. Long before humans came to populate the earth, vampires ruled during the hours of darkness, though they remained too competitive to work together and remained prisoners of their own base hungers, unable to rise above their animalistic existence.

Until, that was, the coming of the first true vampire. Von Richelieu shook himself from his ruminations. That was a story he would ponder another day. It had taken many centuries but, by the time humans were beginning to spread across the world as little more than smart monkeys, the vampires were still in the throes of suppressing their base natures and developing their intelligence and their social structures. They kept their numbers small, their strong territorial instinct forcing them to keep their numbers manageable. Those who survived longest began to take charge and they became known as Elders.

The Elders had seen what the future might hold if they failed to adapt to the changing world. The humans had short lives but they adapted far more quickly to their environment. They had an uncanny knack of moulding their surroundings to work for them and they seemed to have a voracious appetite for war. The vampires were all powerful in the darkness but were far too vulnerable in the light, and so the Elders adapted too. They folded the shadows around themselves and pulled back from the world of man. Any tales of their existence were targeted and they worked hard through their agents to deride these as mere stories and, in time, their existence became myth. The Elders also turned their attention to their own troubled ranks and created legends for the vampires themselves to ensure that their own fledgling social structures would survive.

They put in place stories and myths of how vampire blood was poisonous to other vampires and, in time, these stories became accepted as fact. He had been young at the time but he remembered that time of chaos. Slowly the vampires grew strong. They accepted their place in the shadows and ruled their territories through guile and cunning. The Elders became a ruling council and their wisdom was sought in any disputes and their rulings were final. A class structure evolved and they enjoyed centuries of their secret existence, preying on the humans when and as they wished. Everything was going according to plan until the humans went too far and their raping of the planet began to threaten every living and undead thing on the earth.

Their ability to invent and create was amazing, though this too had proven to be something to fear. The centuries had passed and the planet suffered more and more under their dominion until, at last, the resources began to run short. The planet began to retaliate, summer became winter and winter gripped tighter than ever before. The humans’ empire began to wane.

The younger vampires argued that they would all die if they left the humans to continue to ruin the planet and, slowly, the Elders began to lose their influence. Vampires began to disobey the council and move against humans in their own territories. By this time the dwindling resources had forced the humans to revert to a more insular existence. Their amazing networks that allowed them to communicate instantly anywhere in the world were no longer viable and they became vulnerable.

The young vampires found it easy to take control of their small territories but their greed and inexperience made them crave for more than they could control. They began to expand but the humans were not so easily defeated. The vampires’ great secret was finally revealed. Soon all vampires were forced to join the war or risk the annihilation of their kind. And so the Human War had begun.

There were no Elder vampires left now, many of them having been killed in the war and others had simply disappeared, though, whether they had died or simply faded from sight was yet to be proven. The Elders had not been able to adapt to modern warfare as well as those who had been culled from the human ranks in recent centuries. The humans had a knack for war that true vampires did not have, and this had nearly been the death of them all.

Although the human body could eventually evolve to become a true vampire, it took many centuries for these changes to complete. Von Richelieu was a true vampire, though he had been born human. He could still remember the feel of the sun on his face and found that he still missed it. He remembered riding into battle against the Romans, his blood pumping with excitement, and he remembered his death…and re-birth. He wasn’t the oldest left by any means but he was the oldest who had travelled from the old country.

He still wondered if he had done the right thing as he looked with disdain on the

‘new’ vampires before him. Leaving his beloved country for this wild and sun-scorched land seemed a poor trade. It was a long way from the rolling hills of his youth. There were no scents of life here, no grass or flowers filling the air with their pungent perfumes. All he could smell here was death. The land was parched and barren. It never rained here, only day after day of relentless heat. Even the nights were too warm. He could, he supposed, have taken territory further north, but this was where the power was. This, for some reason, was where the new council had decided to build their base, and he could not change that at the moment. He had moved from his beloved homeland for one reason only. Survival.

If vampires were to lose this war with the humans then they would be hunted down and destroyed. No derision of their existence would work this time. By moving to America, the country which, at the time he had come here, had been the last remaining bastion for free humans, he had been able to lend his considerable expertise in battle to the war effort.

The humans had been winning when he came to this wretched country, but with his help, the vampires had begun to turn the tables. The humans, though, had proven too much for even his great experience. The vampires had been forced to grow the numbers of thralls to completely unmanageable numbers, vampires had begun to squabble among themselves again, and there was a real danger of them losing everything. And then, of course, the serum had been developed and human resistance had crumbled.

He shook himself from his ruminations and looked with regret at the dead vampire at his feet. It was a shame to let this messenger’s blood go to waste but he wanted to make a point, and losing himself in a feeding frenzy was not the image of control he wanted to portray. He could see some of the vampires around the table almost lose themselves to the scent of blood in the air only to be restrained by others who managed to retain more control over their desires.

Von Richelieu’s mind worked on many levels and he prided himself that he had survived centuries of attempts at ending his life by using his intellect. The fact that the serum-tainted blood could have impeded his ability to think left him cold. Death was bad enough, even after centuries of existence he did not welcome death’s embrace. But to become a helpless, slobbering idiot was horrific to him.

He would have to punish his spy for not telling him of this. Not too severely, but an example would have to be made or he risked losing control of his little human experiment. And that would not do at all. The latest despatch was worrying, though. He did not like the fact that the community had split, he liked to know where they all were and what they were planning. Now that Harris was off the radar he was more dangerous than ever. He would have to press his spy to find out where they had gone or he might have to take a more direct hand. The last thing he wanted was a loose cannon of Harris’ capabilities surprising him at some point in the future.

He turned his attention back to his inner circle. He took a moment more to scan each of the council members. It was still strange for him to see beings of such power and majesty dress so strangely. In any meetings he had attended before the war, the vampires he had met with had always been centuries old and had always taken great pride in looking like the Lords they were. They were a proud race. They had set the fashion and had created the tone of the aristocracy among the humans for hundreds of years.

It had been they who had rubbed shoulders with royalty, they who had set the standards of what it meant to be the ruling classes. Humans had copied them, had tried to emulate their inherent confidence and their poise. It had been vampires who had epitomised the elite throughout history. Each vampire would dress and act according to his or her station. He remembered with fondness the flowing capes, crisp shirts and perfectly manicured hair of his colleagues. A vampire’s hair was not something that was easily crafted or maintained, it was, after all, dry and brittle, and many of the more vain elder Lords would spend quite some time gorging themselves on blood to ensure that their flesh would continue to support their lustrous hair. The fact that they had hair at all was something of a mystery, though. Yet he, too, was guilty of pandering to this vanity himself.

Perfume had been created by a vampire to hide the scent of death that clung to them all. The famed powdered wigs and pale complexions of the aristocracy had been another necessity until vampires had discovered that gorging on blood brought a much needed flush to their features. These new vampires, however, were little more than beasts. They had no concept of honour. They had no history, living their pathetically short lives and losing themselves to their baser instincts.

As vampires, they were no different to what they had been as humans. They were base animals who allowed their greed to dictate how they should act. He hated them all. This war with the humans had been a mistake. They could have let the humans destroy themselves slowly and then taken what they needed to survive. To become a vampire lord was something to aspire to, not something that should be thrust upon the unworthy.

He glared at the younger vampires on the council. Many of them wore the rags they had been wearing when they had been turned. Others wore lurid t-shirts or baggy shirts tucked into jeans or track suit trousers that were far too big for them. None of them even washed, and dried blood caked their mouths and their clothes. They were like spoilt children given a gift that they were unworthy of. Already many were losing clumps of their hair as the flesh dried out and could no longer support their hair follicles.

They would all be bald soon, as the first vampires had been back in the dawn of time. They too had been little more than animals, scraping for survival as the earth was wracked by its birthing pains. They were an ancient race, and one which had pulled itself from violence and self-destruction to what had been a proud and worthy people. They had been there before man had spread his seed across the world like a cancer, destroying everything they touched. These vampires were unworthy to hold dominion over the earth.

He would not allow it. He would see an end to their dominion somehow.

“We will respond to Von Kruger’s actions when I am ready,” he said finally. “Besides, I would like to see what happens next without our involvement. Our brothers and sisters have become fat and complacent in their little kingdoms. It will be interesting to see how they manage on their own. I …”

“My Lord,” Kavanagh interrupted from the opposite end of the table and Von Richelieu reluctantly nodded toward him. Kavanagh was a new vampire, but one of such inner strength that he had managed to force his way onto the council by sheer confidence and brute force of will. He had been a man who, although he was built like a mountain, was surprisingly shrewd. In Von Richelieu’s experience, men of his size could get what they wanted by using their size to intimidate others and rarely utilised other, less physical, means to achieve their ends. Not so with Kavanagh. Many of those who had underestimated him now lay dead in his wake.

Curtis Kavanagh had built up quite a following since he had become a vampire. In reality, the very fact that he had become a vampire at all and had not languished for years as a thrall was impressive in itself. Left to his own devices, Kavanagh could very well threaten Von Richelieu’s own position, and he had been forced to take steps to counter any such move.

Kavanagh was one of the many whom Von Richelieu made sure were still feeding on those humans who were still taking the serum. Another few weeks and the vampire would be a harmless idiot, choking on his own drool. The image of the vampire’s future death made Von Richelieu smile, and Kavanagh, and those around him, misinterpreted this as encouragement to speak, so he continued.

“It seems quite an unnecessary risk to allow such behaviour, my Lord,” Kavanagh chose his words carefully as he danced around the point he wanted to make. Von Richelieu was happy to let him try and score his points in front of the others. Soon Kavanagh would be lashing uncontrollably out at those closest to him as he, and they, lost their minds and soiled themselves in their madness.

“I mean, we…you,” he amended with a smile, “have worked so hard to bring us to this current status quo that I wonder if it is wise to let it deteriorate like this. We could be looking at another time of anarchy.”

Yes indeed there will be anarchy and on a scale you could not imagine, Von Richelieu thought and paused as the others around the table braced for the violent reaction they assumed would follow such a remark. Kavanagh had been goading him like this for weeks now, hoping that they would come to blows and he would be justified in striking back. As a vampire of only just over a year he could not challenge an ancient like Von Richelieu, but he could defend himself if attacked. Von Richelieu was not entirely certain he would win such an encounter, so he had judiciously avoided any reaction that might leave him unable to back down without losing face.

“Yes,” he allowed with an expansive sweep of his arm, “that is how one of your limited experience would see it.” He paused as he let that barb sink in and saw Kavanagh’s mouth twitch in annoyance. He waited another moment before continuing. “But you really must learn to see the larger picture now that you are immortal, young one.” At least for the next few weeks anyway.

He allowed a relaxed smile to cross his face and held Kavanagh’s gaze for a long moment. The use of the words ‘young one’ had hit Kavanagh just as he had wanted them to, and he could see the anger boiling within the younger man. If he lost control, then the others would be forced to restrain him and he would be staked at dawn for having challenged his master without due cause or, more importantly, the right to do so. Von Richelieu watched the younger vampire struggle to suppress his temper, something that was becoming increasingly difficult now that the infected blood was eroding his control. Von Richelieu almost pitied the vampire for a moment, but only for a moment.

He was impressed despite his misgivings about the young vampire. For such a youth he had remarkable control over his emotions, especially when the serum was eroding his grip as each day went by. Von Richelieu could see the blood dripping onto the floor under Kavanagh’s hands where the young vampire was digging into his palms to distract his anger and he decided to try once again to see if he could nudge him over the edge.

“It is just as well you fledglings have calmer heads to guide you, sometimes I feel that you need help finding your own prey in the pens outside.” Von Richelieu knew he was risking alienating more than just those who he directed the insult toward, but this was such a perfect opportunity to push Kavanagh that it was worth the risk. Besides, he would prefer to remove this threat now rather than have to wait another few weeks or months with his constant questioning. Anything could happen in that time and Kavanagh was far too dangerous. “Your comments have been noted, but you can leave Von Kruger to me. I am well aware of the situation and have the matter in hand.”

With that, Von Richelieu turned away from the council in dismissal. He smiled as he heard a number of them gasp at his arrogance. He wished he could look back and see Kavanagh’s face. His insult was almost as clear as a physical slap, and he expected to hear a challenge any second. But he waited and waited, and when he eventually forced himself to turn back and look he could see that Kavanagh had left the room silently, without so much as a grunt of anger. That vampire is truly far too dangerous to leave to chance, he thought as he allowed his gaze to sweep those that were left.

Although each might be like a God to humans and could strike fear among their own thrall armies, they were merely sheep in his presence and he dismissed them with a snort of derision. There was some small victory in Kavanagh’s retreat but he would have preferred a challenge. It would have been so much better to get it over with. He began to wonder if he should risk letting the serum take its toll on the vampire after all. Kavanagh could do so much damage in such a short time and Von Richelieu had no idea how debilitating the serum would be or how quickly its effects would become obvious. He might have to arrange something a little more imminent after all.

Kavanagh was furious. Not just at Von Richelieu but more so at himself. He should have been able to stay and stare down Von Richelieu’s taunts, but he had felt the anger begin to take over and he had had to flee. He paled as he thought about what he had done. He had never run from any man in his life and it cut him deeply that he had done so now, especially now that he had become the world’s most powerful predator. But, as in most things, there was always someone further up the chain than you and there was no way that he could win in a straight fight against Von Richelieu.

It wasn’t the physical combat he feared, though. As a newborn he had few rights among the vampires. Theirs was a hierarchical structure where seniority and respect came from longevity and not from deeds. Their society, over the last few centuries, was based on secrecy and stagnation where humans were merely food and were rarely allowed into their exalted ranks.

The war with humanity had necessitated many changes to their carefully crafted rules. The fact that they had been forced to increase the number of vampires so quickly had led to many problems. Their rules and their society were not capable of handling such an increase in their numbers. There were problems worldwide, he had heard, though with no formal communications available, it was difficult to gauge exactly what was happening elsewhere.

Their society was crumbling from within. New, technologically savvy vampires were straining against the archaic systems and laws of those who ruled. There were still too many powers that the new vampires could not master so any direct conflict with the master vampires was still too risky. The rules protected them as well.

Any newborn vampire attacking a master vampire would be immediately restrained by all other vampires, whoever they supported, and staked to the ground to be left for the dawn. This death was feared among all the clans, regardless of age. Death would be agonising and slow as every cell would break down individually, causing intense and continuous agony until death finally claimed them. He had many ideas about what he would change if he could, but Von Richelieu was too canny. He would have to beat him with his intellect.

Kavanagh felt a shiver run through him as he thought back to the meeting. He had never lost control like that before. Ever since he had become a vampire he had accepted the urges and hungers that came with it, but this was something far different. He had lost control in there. In fact, the only way he had been able to stop himself from flying across the table and ripping Von Richelieu’s throat apart had been by tearing into the flesh of his own palms with his nails to distract himself from the anger which had boiled up from nowhere.

He had never known such raw emotion before. Even now he was still tempted to go back and rip Von Richelieu’s head off, regardless of the consequences. What was happening to him? Even when he had become a vampire and the thirst had hit him for the first time he had never lost control like that. He had looked like a pouting adolescent in that meeting and, while he might only be a young vampire, he should be able to control himself far better than that.

He continued to consider this as he strode out into the night. It was strange not to feel the blood thump through his veins as it had in life and it still took some getting used to. Blood still flowed, of course, but it did not pump like it had in life. It was more like a meandering stream that coursed through his veins, and it was disconcerting, to say the least.

The vampire body might be incredibly powerful but it could not produce the blood their bodies still needed to survive. It was the act of feeding, with the constant introduction of fresh blood, that forced the blood already in their systems to travel further through their bodies and keep their muscles and their flesh oxygenated. Without fresh blood to keep their blood flowing they would die.

As he walked he continued to think on his uncharacteristic reaction, and he realised that there had been more spontaneous fighting among the vampires of late and this was unusual. Vampires were not “hot-blooded” to use a human term and did not rule by emotion. They did not feel anger like humans did, did not feel desire or passion.

At first he had missed that. He had always thought that being a vampire would be one long orgy of sex and violence. Anne Rice really got that part wrong, he thought with a wry smile. It was hard to perform sexually when your blood did not travel with the same wild abandon as a human’s. However, the feeling of warm, fresh blood singing through your deflated veins more than made up for the loss of such high emotion. He had originally put these random acts of violence down to prolonged inaction but he was beginning to wonder. It was as if something had changed.

By their nature, vampires were violent and lived by their instincts. For centuries the older vampires had had to learn to curb these urges, but the newer vampires had not had that luxury and there had always been tension between the two groups, just nothing like it had been of late. Recently he had witnessed two vampires tear each other apart and, while they separated before one of them had killed the other, there was no doubt in Kavanagh’s mind that they would have killed each other if they had not been left alone. And, if the recent reports about Von Kruger were to be believed, it was plain that something had changed. But what?

Von Richelieu did not seem worried and that in itself made Kavanagh even more suspicious. He had always come down heavily on such behaviour. It was if he wanted…

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud commotion in one of the pens and he found himself heading over to see what was going on. He felt nothing for his former race as he approached the huge pens. The squalor they lived in and their pitiful fate did not move him at all. They had had their chance to join the ranks of vampires or thralls and had chosen to become food, so they deserved what happened to them.

He had embraced the vampires from the first he had heard of them. Of course he had been in prison at the time and had little to give up when they had stormed into the prison and offered the inmates the chance to join them. That was when the vampires were still taking anyone to boost their numbers. That soon changed, though, and many of those who had joined from the dregs of humanity had since been weaned out, either through attrition during the war or afterwards when the older vampires had decided that not all of those chosen were worthy of the gift of immortality. Nothing had been proved of course, but he had enough contacts to have heard of Von Richelieu’s Death Squads.

Of course, all that was in the past now that things had settled down, wasn’t it?

He could see a number of the humans moving about in the pen before him. Von Richelieu had corralled all the humans a number of months ago for no apparent reason. Before that the humans had wandered the city relatively freely, the serum replacing the need for walls. But then he had ordered these huge pens to be erected and all humans gathered up and placed inside them. He had given no reason but Kavanagh had had no interest either way so had not questioned it.

Now, though, he could see that some of the humans were clearly agitated. The guards were trying to get them to remain quiet but their usual zombie-like apathy was replaced by what seemed to be anger and despair. It seemed to be spreading through the whole pen and the general buzz of moaning was becoming quite loud in comparison to what he was used to. He looked over at another pen in the distance and his sharper eyesight had no difficulty in making out the figures in that pen. They seemed controlled and quiet.

Strange, he thought. The serum was administered at the same time to all humans so there should not have been such strange behaviour in one batch and not another. It was possible that the serum was at fault, of course. Maybe a bad batch had got through somehow. He would have to investigate.

He did not like inconsistencies.

Captain William Carter winced as he pulled himself up into the armoured car’s turret. His shoulder still pained him, especially in the mornings when the air was still chilled like it was this morning. He had tried everything to get rid of the pain, and he had beaten more than one doctor senseless when they had insisted that the wound had healed perfectly and that there was no reason for the continuous pain.

He popped another handful of pills into his palm and closed his eyes as he waited for the painkillers to do their job. There were fewer and fewer supplies of these painkillers left and they did not work quite as well on his new physiology as they had when he was human, but they did take the edge off the pain. Production had stopped quite some time before the war during the power crisis and there had been so many wounded during the war that medical supplies had become very rare indeed. His men were under orders to search every town in the two states but this effort had yielded few results up till now.

As soon as he closed his eyes the scenes of that fateful day played in his head and he saw his men die over and over, their bodies staggering and pirouetting as the bullets from his gun pumped into them. He felt no remorse in killing his men but the images, strangely, would not leave him, and the pain in his shoulder would not go either. In a brief flash of insight he wondered if the two were related. Could guilt manifest itself like this? He forced his eyes open and the images disappeared immediately, at least until later that night. The pain in his shoulder began to ease as the painkillers began to take effect.

He forced his mind to more urgent matters. It promised to be a busy day. His advance scouts had discovered tracks of a small patrol heading toward the neighbouring state where Nero ruled. His men had reported no sightings of thralls along that border but, of course, that meant little these days. States did not trade or converse with each other at any level, so this, in itself, was not unusual. However, he had a thought as his patrol had relayed their findings, and the more he considered it the more he was convinced he was right.

It was possible that the rebel humans were operating from within Nero’s territory. They had searched so extensively in their own states that it had occurred to him that the humans could have their base in another state where they did not cause any trouble and slipped across the border for their raids. This would leave them relatively free to operate as they had done and would explain why his patrols, and those of Von Kruger, had failed to discover any trace of their hiding place.

Of course, he could be wrong, but, as he looked out at the border between the two states, he was becoming more and more convinced that he was right. There was a huge amount of territory to cover, admittedly, but most of the attacks were within a relatively small area. He had even plotted all the attacks he knew about and had discovered a few interesting facts. Many of the attacks were centred around a relatively small area, in relation to the sheer size of the two states, and he was pretty certain he knew the area from where they must be operating.

Not with any accuracy, of course, but he was able to plot a radius of around two hundred miles stretching out from Bertrand, where he had been fairly certain that the humans were operating from. This radius just happened to include a chunk of Nero’s territory so his new theory had gained some credibility.

Then, unexpectedly, there had been another raid, but this one had been far further to the south and his theory had been shattered. At least until the patrol had found these latest tracks. This latest raid was an anomaly to every other raid so he had decided to discount it for now. If there were more raids later outside his charted radius then he could re-visit that theory. For now, though, he would run with what he had. After all, it was the very thing he would have done to draw attention elsewhere if he had been in their position.

He had to find these humans. He had seen what their bullets had done to the vampires and he had to have their secret. With those bullets he could sweep Von Kruger, and any other vampire who troubled him, into the gutter where they belonged. But where were they?

There was just no way the humans could travel huge distances with his men patrolling by day and Von Kruger’s vampires searching by night. As he had studied the map he had drawn up he had noticed that the attack that had started the war between Von Kruger and Wentworth, the attack where he himself had discovered his men’s bodies and lied about them to his superiors, was right in the middle of the circle he had plotted. He realised with a shock that he now knew who had actually attacked that small base. The humans had orchestrated the whole thing. His estimation of their abilities rose significantly as he stared at the map.

They had now rescued nearly a thousand humans from his territory, and this would only allow them to step up their attacks if he let it continue much longer. Where could they hide so many? He had no idea how many they had started with but there must be close to two thousand people at this point. He had noticed that the attacks of late had been smaller than before, as if they were fewer in number rather than greater numbers, and that puzzled him. Were they focusing their attacks in a different area now that there was so much activity here? But if that was true, why raid around here at all? He really didn’t have a handle on what drove them. He could do with pooling his information with Von Kruger and working together to wipe them out, but that was unlikely to happen anytime soon.

The latest report of the tracks along the border was interesting, though, as Bertrand was quite close to the border with Nero’s territory and it would make sense to operate from a safe haven where no one was searching for them. He had tried to contact the local thrall commander in Nero’s territory, but his men had not returned from their mission yet so he was not sure if that meant they had been killed by the thrall commander before they had gotten the opportunity to explain their mission or whether they were merely delayed. Either way he was becoming more and more certain that the humans were slipping across this border before him. There was only one way to prove it, of course, and that was to enter enemy territory and find them.

He could ill afford another war, especially with Von Kruger running rampant and his other borders filled with vampires and thralls ready and eager to press any advantage. But this was the only territory without any visible patrols. It was well known, of course, that Nero was unlike most of the other vampire lords and that he was reluctant to talk with anyone at the best of times. It could be that he was just uninterested in what was happening and would swoop on anyone entering his territory without mercy, but the lack of any patrols at all along the entire border was more than strange. Even for Nero.

He had to find these humans or risk losing everything. He badly needed their weapons but also needed to remove them as a threat. If they kept siphoning off the vampires’ food supply then he would lose his main bargaining advantage with Von Kruger. He had gathered a large force together for this excursion, just in case. It could, of course, start a war with Nero, but if they encountered Nero’s thrall army he would try to negotiate first.

He did not consider for a moment that Nero was not in control in his territory, only that his relaxed attitude gave these humans the opportunity to use his state as a safe haven. He didn’t have enough forces to spare to police the entire border on his own so he would have to enlist Nero’s thralls to help on their side of the border. He would offer them aid against their own vampire masters if they were open to that. If not, and if they fielded a large enough force to give him pause, then he could always withdraw.

The very fact that they could bring such a sizeable force to counter him in such a short time would have disproved his theory anyway and he would have to think again about where the humans might be. If they didn’t move to stop him then he would see how far he could travel into this territory before he met resistance. One way or another, he would find out whether the humans were hiding there or not. As he looked at the map he wondered where it would all end.

Chapter 9

Tanya felt as if her muscles were seizing up like an engine without oil, but she forced herself to keep moving. Her head hurt too and the moaning all around her was driving her to dementia. Everyone just stood or sat on the ground and moaned in pain and desperation - God, it was like being in a zombie movie. She hadn’t slept since her memories had flooded through her numbed brain and exhaustion plucked at her incessantly, enticing her to lie down and sleep. She needed to sleep, she knew that, her body couldn’t take this kind of abuse, but she had to find her children. There would be time to sleep once she had found them.

On one level, an insistent voice tried to raise the possibility that her children were dead. But she suppressed that thought savagely and pushed herself on. They were alive. They had to be. She had searched through over half of the enormous pen at this point and her desperation was growing with each face she passed. There were very few children at all. In fact, there were very few young adults either.

The vampires obviously liked their victims young. Her hand unconsciously dropped to her stomach and despair washed over. She faltered as the reality of her position threatened to crush her. Was she truly alone? The bastards had taken her unborn child for their unholy thirsts. Had they taken her children as well? She stopped as the grief became too much. Many of those around her had already given up and either stood staring sightlessly ahead or sat on the ground and cried. She felt her knees weaken. It would be so easy to rest, just for a moment.

Surely it wouldn’t matter if she just had a little rest. She felt herself weakening, her legs did ache so and her back was burning with strain. Her knees began to buckle but then her children’s faces suddenly danced before her and she ignored the pain and forced herself on. She could see them in her mind from a happier time before the vampires had come. Her stomach felt empty, and not just from hunger. There was an emptiness within her that she just knew would always be there. They had taken a part of her, ripped it from her and left behind an empty shell. Well, not completely empty, she suddenly realised. A fire smouldered within her, a small kernel of hate that had kept her going up till now. She stoked the fire with her hatred for the vampires and forced one foot in front of the other pushing those in front of her away as she continued her search.

She would find her children and then, somehow, she would make the vampires pay. Somehow. She searched all day, ignoring the food that was sent into the pen as she examined every face in the sea of people, hoping to see someone she knew, anyone who might have seen her children. But she found no one. Finally, as darkness began to crawl across the horizon, she slumped to the ground at the far end of the pen. At first she didn’t feel anything, just relief that she had stopped walking, but it wasn’t long before her despair overpowered her.

A sob escaped from her and she could feel a tear drop from her eye and roll slowly down her cheek. It was all too much; they had taken too much from her. She had spent the day feeding the fire within her with hate and hope and despair in equal measure, but now she was exhausted. Her hope was shattered and hate could only take you so far. Despair now ruled and swept over her like a giant wave. Great sobs racked through her body and she looked out at a cityscape that had once been so familiar and was now so alien. In the day’s final gasp, as the last shafts of light were chased away by the oncoming gloom, she saw the shadows envelope another pen some distance away. It was like watching the huge enclosure fall into a hole as the darkness swept over it in a slow, ineluctable march.

The people in that pen all stood gazing sightlessly ahead and at some level she noted that they, unlike the people in her pen, were still controlled by the serum. She didn’t wonder at this, she was far too tired, but she did notice it. Just then, as the last of the people were swallowed by the dark and it began to crawl toward her, she saw a small face surrounded by a mass of red curls. The face was dirty and the hair was limp and matted, but her heart stopped beating as soon as she saw it. She only had a fleeting moment and then the darkness descended. But it had been enough. She’d know her child in any circumstance. Jillian was alive. Hope flared within her. She did not consider that an army of vampires and thralls lay between them or that there was no hope of a reunion. All she thought about was that her little girl was alive. If she was alive then it was possible that Mark was with her. The fire in her belly began to rekindle as hope flared and kept her warm. She slumped to the ground in exhaustion and felt the tears flood down her cheeks.

There were many who cried that night in that lonely prison but no others cried tears of joy. She finally slept.

Ian Phelps cursed as he looked around the storeroom.

“Is everything ruined?” he asked as he kicked at an empty box on the floor but felt no pleasure as it hit the wall and bounced off.

“I’m afraid so.” Lucy Irvine shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “How could someone do this? I just don’t understand.” A small sob escaped her as she looked at the ruined food in the room.

“Are you sure it wasn’t accidental?” Penny Arkwright asked from the doorway. “I mean…” she began but faltered as the rest of the committee members turned toward her.

Father Reilly placed a hand on her shoulder and sighed. “I’m afraid there’s little doubt about it. Someone did this deliberately.” He knelt down and picked up a water-soaked packet of rice and let the ruined parcel fall back onto the wet floor. He paused for a moment as he considered what he was about to say and then shrugged. “I’m afraid I have to admit that this is not entirely unexpected.”

Reilly watched the faces of those around him for any hint that what he was saying was not a complete shock, but the committee members were so spread out inside the room that it was impossible to watch them all at the same time.

“What do you mean?” Phil Regan spluttered. “Are you suggesting that you knew of this and did nothing?”

“No,” Reilly answered emphatically, “I did not know that this would happen, destroying our food affects our culprit as much as it does ourselves. Either they are more desperate than we thought or…”

“What are you talking about? What culprit?” Phelps crossed to him and stood there, his face growing red with anger. “What exactly is going on? And when you say ‘we’ who exactly are you talking about?”

Reilly paused for a moment before answering as he considered the implications. He knew what their reaction was going to be, after all they had kept this information from the democratically elected government, but he really had no choice after this latest development. He took a deep breath. “Harris…”

“I knew it,” Phelps spat the words as he turned toward the other members of the committee. The water pooling around his feet splashed with the sudden motion and sent ripples outward. “I knew he had…”

“Before you finish that sentence you will listen to what I have to say,” Reilly interrupted with a voice long accustomed to authority and respect. “You might be glad you didn’t say something that you can’t take back later.” Reilly stared hard at Phelps, as if daring him - which of course he was - and Phelps managed to stare back for almost thirty seconds before he dropped his gaze.

“I’ll listen, Father,” his tone was unmistakably derisive, “but then we will have to discuss your reluctance to share important information with this committee.”

Reilly nodded, he knew that Phelps had a good point and one which would take some impact away from what he was about to say, but this latest development had forced his hand. They had not had enough food to feed the community before this disaster and the food in this room was almost a quarter of their entire remaining stock. With winter gripping them so hard and crops some months yet from yielding anything, they were in real trouble.

“When Steele returned he may well have been turned as a vampire but his will was such that he had not come to kill us.” Phelps snorted and Reilly glared hard at him before continuing. “As you may have noticed, he did come alone.” He paused as he searched out each person’s eyes and spent a few seconds on each one before moving on. “Did no one think it strange that we haven’t been overrun by vampires by now?”

He could see by their reaction that few of them had really given it much thought at all.

“Steele came to warn us,” he continued. “The thirst was driving him mad but he held onto what was left of his humanity long enough to save April from that monster, Sherman, and to tell us some disturbing news before he took his life.” Reilly could tell that he had everyone’s interest but he forced himself to pause again. It was critical that these people believed him and took what he had to say seriously.

“Steele did not tell Von Richelieu of our existence. He knew already.” Reilly paused as he let the impact of his statement sink in. “Someone in this community had been passing information back to him long before Harris sent Steele on his mission. It is my belief that that person is responsible for this atrocity.”

“That’s farcical,” Phelps snapped. “If the vampires knew where we were, they would crush us. Why would they leave us here while we grew in numbers?”

“To be honest, I have no idea,” Reilly admitted. “That’s one of the reasons we did not tell anyone. Harris…”

“It’s always comes back to Harris, doesn’t it?” Phelps interrupted again. “My God, that man is always in the thick of it, ruining it for everyone else.”

“That is enough of that.” Phelps stopped as if slapped and Phil Regan moved to the centre of the room. Everyone was shocked that Regan would interrupt his own man. Everyone in the room was aware that Phelps was quickly growing out from Regan’s shadow but Regan was still leader of the community and had the final say on everything. For now, anyway.

“Father,” Regan began as the small room seemed to press in on them all. “We have not always agreed on things, but what you have said is very worrying. I have kept my own council about a number of matters recently as, I must admit, the sheer impossibility of our position here has overwhelmed me. I do not hold Peter Harris in the esteem that you do, but I also did not wish him ill. His banishment was based on the fact that he had made our position more precarious by telling the vampires we were here. If this is not the case, why then did he not offer this information at the time?”

“He did not feel that he would be believed in light of Steele’s presence in the community and the raw emotion of the night.” Reilly paused as Regan had the good grace to drop his eyes. “Besides,” Reilly continued, “keeping the knowledge that we had a traitor in the community was our only way of trying find out who they were and what their agenda might be.” Reilly paused again as he swept the faces of the others. “He was prepared to be sent away in order to try and make the traitor more confident in the hope that they might slip up.”

There was a silence in the room that made them all uncomfortable.

“But why would the vampires leave us here to grow in strength? That makes no sense,” Phelps insisted as he tried to regain some momentum.

“We don’t know,” admitted Reilly with a sigh, “but it would seem that Von Richelieu had known about us for some time and is happy to let us scratch out a living as long as we don’t threaten him directly. But he must have an agenda, and our hope was that, if we found who it was who passing information to him, we might be able to figure it out. He must need us for something.”

“But how could anyone pass information to such monsters?” Lucy Irvine shuddered as she spoke.

“We don’t know, I’m afraid we don’t even know how the information even gets to him at this time.”

“No.” Lucy shook her head violently. “I mean how could they? This bastard has signed all our death warrants. Who could do such a thing and why?” Everyone was stunned into silence. Lucy Irvine was a quiet woman, hard as a rock but quiet nonetheless. And she never cursed.

“I imagine the why is easily answered: they obviously feel that the promised reward, whatever it might be, outweighs any moral objection.” Reilly scanned the faces in front of him.

“But who could do that? We have children here.” Regan was white with shock.

“Well,” Father Reilly looking uncomfortable as, for the first time, he was unable to look into the eyes of the person he spoke to, “we had thought that it might be you.”

“My God, Father,” Regan spluttered as his face grew red, but not from anger. He was visibly shaken. “I am not a monster. I will admit to opinionated, crude and even selfish, but this is…unthinkable.”

“The fact remains, though,” Reilly continued as he dragged his eyes back to Regan, “we do have someone who is willing to betray us all for their own gain. And this,” he swept his hand around the room, “only goes to show that, whatever their agenda might be, it has escalated.” There was silence as the committee members considered this.

“It’s worse than that, Father.” Regan suddenly went white again as a thought struck him. “The food storage areas are not easily accessed. Miss Irvine came to me a few weeks ago, worried that if the general populace knew just how bad our stocks were that there might be a panic. She suggested a few changes to the security arrangements. I agreed and they were implemented last week. I had not gotten around to informing the committee as I did not see that it really mattered to us as a group, and we’ve had such a lot on our plates recently.” He paused as he looked around at the others.

“No one here would have known it, but, as of last week, the only people who had access to this area were members of the committee. You may not have seen anything different than before, but there is a guard posted out of sight twenty-four hours a day near the entrance. They are under orders to let no one but authorised personnel into this section and to remain out of sight at all other times. We did not want it to be obvious.” He paused as he looked at the faces of those around him. “Whoever did this has, unwittingly, narrowed the field somewhat. I’m afraid our traitor is standing among us at this very moment.”

Chapter 10

Harris looked out over the room and took a deep breath before beginning.

“Okay, we all know the potential impact of the patrol we hit. Either the thralls now know that we are here in this general area and they sent that last patrol to suck us in or they are testing a theory. Either way, they are beginning to think along the right lines and that’s dangerous. That last patrol nearly took us apart. They were far better trained than we are in tactics and we were lucky to survive.” He paused as he looked out over the faces of the people he had nearly led to their deaths.

“Before this we survived by doing the unexpected and by blind luck, I have to admit. Steele knew what he was doing and always managed to add something to any plans I came up with, but now things have changed. Whoever is leading the thralls knows what he is doing. He might not know exactly where we are, but he is narrowing the options far too quickly for my liking. When that patrol fails to report in they will have narrowed it even further.”

“They might think it was Nero’s forces, Peter,” Denis Johnson spoke from the back of the room.

“They might,” Harris agreed, “but there’s only one way for them to be sure and that’s to send a larger force over the border next time. One which we cannot hope to attack.”

“But if they do that they’ll see that there are no thralls patrolling the border,” Benjamin Franklin interrupted.

“Exactly,” Harris agreed, “and once they do that it won’t be long before they find the others.”

“So what do we do?” Delilah Franklin asked.

“Well, that’s why we’re having this meeting, Delilah,” Harris sighed. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what the best course of action is. If the next patrol is any bigger than the last one then they’ll wipe the floor with us. They’re just too well trained and will be expecting an attack. We can’t let them come across the border either though. The only thing keeping them in their own territory is the fear of reprisal from Nero. Once they discover that he is no longer in control they will sweep through this territory until they come across another vampire colony.”

“We need to divert them somewhere else.” Ricks sounded almost apologetic and he had to repeat himself before everyone heard him.

“Yes,” Harris agreed, “I agree, however, we tried that by attacking further south and they seem to have ignored that.”

“Maybe we just need something bigger to get their attention, then,” Ricks persisted.

“What do you mean, son.” Benjamin turned in his chair and regarded the young boy.

“Well,” Ricks began and then dried up as he saw all their faces suddenly staring at him intently.

“It’s all right, Ricks, no one will laugh. We’re all in this together,” Harris encouraged him.

“I was just thinking that, at the moment, we seem to be their top priority and they’re throwing lots of resources into finding us. If they needed those resources for some other emergency then we might have more time to prepare.”

“Good idea,” Johnson agreed and then sighed. “But we’re high on their list for a good reason; we’re siphoning away their only bargaining chip with the vampires. It would have to be a pretty big distraction. Have you anything in mind specifically?”

“I’m not sure,” Ricks began and then shrugged as if he had just made a decision. “I grew up north of here, close to Fort Wayne in Indiana. We moved down here just before the war. My dad reckoned that it would be too cold with the fuel shortages and all.”

“That’s all very interesting, son, but we really do need to stick to the agenda,” Franklin interrupted, frustration adding an edge to his voice that he did not intend. His face softened almost immediately. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair.”

“We’re all on edge.” His sister laid a hand on his arm and then leaned toward Ricks. “Go on, love,” she grinned at the red-faced Ricks. “I’ll keep this angry bear in check for you from now on.”

Ricks glanced around at the others and, seeing encouragement in their faces, he continued. “Well, as I said, we used to live near Fort Wayne, and that was a pretty busy place before the war what with the Nuclear Plant and all.”

“Excuse me, did you just say nuclear plant?” Al Warnback exclaimed in shock. Warnback was one of the men who had joined the group when Ben Franklin and his sister had come across and had proven himself a useful, if somewhat petulant addition to the group. It was obvious that he was here because of Delilah, and that he really hadn’t thought through what he was signing up for when he joined them. “What do you plan on doing, blow up the fucking plant? Jesus, kid, are you crazy?”

Ricks stopped as if struck and went bright red.

Sandra Harrington gasped, ignoring Warnback’s outburst. “I had forgotten about the plants. Jesus, are they still running?”

“They must be or we’d have seen a few mushroom clouds on the horizon by now.” Johnson rubbed his chin. “But who’s looking after them now? Shit, if we survive the fucking serum, are we all going to die in a nuclear winter when the plants blow from neglect?”

Harris put his hand up to halt any further conversation. He did not know the area particularly well and had not known that there was a nuclear plant so close to them. He knew, of course, that the thralls still had power, but he hadn’t really considered where it was coming from. God, there was just so much to consider and he felt more and more inadequate as time went by. “Ricks,” he began, “was that your plan, to blow the plant?”

“Of course not,” Ricks said under his breath, “if the Dade plant went up it would kill us all.”

“Even this far south?” Johnson asked in shock.

“Most of the country’s nuclear plants are in the east of the country. With the exception of a few in Southern California and Arizona, the western states are nuclear free. We happen to be in the worst possible place if they start to blow.”

“Shit.”

“Shit indeed.”

“How likely is it that they would blow?”

“Well,” Ricks considered his response before answering. “The plants are built to run pretty much self contained, but they do need maintenance, and if the thralls don’t have the right people looking after them, then who knows? I do know that the reactor heads in the Dade plant were scheduled for replacement just before the war, so it’s only a matter of time before erosion takes its toll.”

“But if the thralls have the right people in there, it should be okay, right?” Warnback asked eagerly.

“The Dade facility was forced to close for three years due to safety concerns a while ago.” Ricks replied.

“But they fixed it, right?” Warnback insisted.

“Not according to a veteran NRC structural engineer who stated at the hearing that there were not enough safety procedures in place at the plant.”

“Jesus!”

“The NRC reduced the plants safety rating because of the report,” Ricks continued, warming to his subject.

“But they let it reopen?” Harris asked.

“Yes, they did. The plant also uses a complicated system using feedwater pumps to cool the reactor which is much slower than the NRC normally advises. A number of experts have gone on record stating that this cooling system would not be good enough to cool the core in an emergency. Dade is the only plant in the country with an inferior cooling system.” Ricks sighed.

“Lucky us,” Johnson cursed. “How come you know so much about this?”

“My dad,” Ricks dropped his eyes for a moment as he thought about his missing parents and Delilah squeezed his hand encouragingly. “My dad,” he continued, “was heavily involved in campaigning against the re-licensing of the plant so you kind of pick these things up.”

“Just how bad would it be if the plant blew?” Sandra asked, still shocked at how precarious their existence was.

“Well,” Ricks shrugged, “there’s a huge amount of stats on both sides of the argument about what would actually happen and how far the radiation would spread. To understand the full impact, it’s important to understand a bit about radiation.” Ricks looked around and saw that everyone was listening intently to him so he continued. “If the Dade plant went up the initial explosion wouldn’t kill us all the way down here but the fallout would pollute the whole area, air, water and livestock.”

“But surely these things are planned for?”

“Yes, and in most cases, a disaster at a plant might not actually cause a leak into the environment. These plants are designed to prevent a meltdown from happening and, even if they did happen, to contain it. But in our case, we’re relying on safety features that are flawed and on personnel who might not be there anymore. The biggest problems we would have are the after-effects and the radiation clouds.”

“How bad would that be?” Sandra asked in a whisper.

“Well, that’s where the NRC and my dad disagreed. Dade stores its waste at Palisades, on Lake Michigan near South Haven. There are 30 concrete and steel silos containing irradiated nuclear fuel rods. There was a court case around their placement so close to the lake as the silos were not considered earthquake proof, but he lost that argument. Whether an earthquake would have damaged them or not, a core meltdown would be more than sufficient. Each silo contains up to 320 times the long-lasting radioactivity released by the Hiroshima bomb.”

“Oh my God.”

“We can’t really deal with this at the moment,” Harris broke the silence that had fallen over the room like a blanket. “If blowing the plant wasn’t your intention, and I think we can all agree that that would be bad, why bring up the plant at all?”

“The plant still generates waste, even if they have it running at the lowest output, and that waste has to be transported from the plant to the Palisades for storage. We could hit the convoy.”

“But wouldn’t the fallout kill us as well?” Johnson asked, shocked at the suggestion.

“No, not if we’re careful. We could hit the convoy and then plant timed explosives to go off when we’re clear.”

“But surely the convoy will be heavily armed, won’t it?”

“Why would it be?” Ricks shrugged. “I mean, who would be mad enough to blow up nuclear waste?”

Silence fell once again over the room.

“Well, you did say bigger than us,” Ricks offered and grinned. “The thralls would have to divert a lot of resources to clean up the spill or risk the radiation spreading. They would also lose the use of the power plant and that would leave them, literally, in the dark.”

“How bad would such a spill be?” Sandra asked.

“Depends on the weather,” Ricks pursed his lower lip. “It would probably be pretty localised, say around a thirty mile radius. But, with the current crazy weather patterns, the potential for it to spread would be bad enough so that they’d have to throw a lot of resources at the clean-up. The alternative would be to risk turning their only power source into a health hazard for a few hundred years. Either way, it should take the pressure off us for a while.”

Chapter 11

Von Kruger stormed into the room, trying to hide his delight as the vampires and thralls already there jumped in fear. He was not in a particularly bad mood but it was good to keep them on their toes. He was still wary of using thralls though, but there was just no way he could leave himself completely unguarded during the day. He kept them on a very tight leash, though, and bit them each morning to make sure that whatever elements that were passed between a vampire and their thrall remained fresh in these thralls.

Unfortunately, he had no idea if this made any difference to the level of loyalty they felt, but he had to do something. It had worked up till now, so there must be something in it.

“Report,” he barked at the first thrall he saw and settled into his chair as the thrall stumbled through his report.

“Master, we have discovered over two hundred facilities that match your criteria. I have discounted those that are at the farthest reaches of your Kingdom as the distances are just too great to be practical. We can look at these later, if needed, but for now there are seventy registered underground facilities that are most likely to be used as a practical base.”

Von Kruger mulled the number around his head. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected, but it was still too many. There was no way he could afford the resources needed to search each one and guard his borders as well as his internal bases. They had ignored anything shallower than twenty feet as they knew for a fact that a vampire’s senses could detect anything less than that. But there must be something else they could do to bring the number down.

“Fifty two are military facilities, fourteen corporate and three privately owned,” the thrall Captain continued and brought him out of his thoughts. “I have rated them by size and matched them on the map against the known areas of attack, though we are very light on such information as previous attacks were against outposts where humans were being held and these…”

“Yes,” Von Kruger snapped, “let me guess, the thrall commanders were less than honest in reporting their failings against such attacks.”

The thrall decided not to comment and instead continued with his report. “With the intelligence we do have I have indicated the most likely sites in red.”

“Have patrols gone out?”

“Eh, no, Master, I did no presume to…” the thrall’s face drained and he opened his mouth and then closed it with no further sound emerging.

Von Kruger, in a rare moment of empathy, merely snapped at one of his Lieutenants. “Get this information out to the patrols and get them to tear these sites apart.” The Lieutenant nodded and disappeared. “Is there anything else we can do to speed this up?” he snapped at the thrall beside him.

“Well,” the thrall began and then shut up as he thought about what he was about to say.

“I will most certainly rip you to shreds if you do not speak, Captain, you can be assured of that.” Von Kruger’s tone was cold and flat but the menace behind the words was all too apparent. “At least, if you speak your mind, there is a chance I will let you live.”

The thrall Captain gulped and went even paler than before. “I was about to suggest, Master, that if you opened a dialogue with this thrall leader, Carter, you might be able to use their intelligence on the attacks they know about and narrow the field even further.”

Von Kruger felt his anger rise and he could feel the saliva spurt into his mouth as he thought about tearing the thrall’s throat to pieces, but he forced his temper down. The thrall was right, and he needed loyal thralls at this time, especially clever ones. There was no way he could spare enough vampires to search all these sites, anyway, so he had to do something.

“All right,” Von Kruger agreed, “send out a summons,” he paused as he reconsidered – there was no point starting off on the wrong footing. “Make that a request,” he amended, “for a meeting.” Von Kruger spat the last word out as if it were a curse. He could not believe that he was going to speak to a thrall as an equal and beg an alliance. It galled him to even think it, but he had to get that intelligence. Once he found these humans he could then turn his full attention to this thrall upstart and his fate would be spoken about in hushed tones down through the centuries as an example to others as to the price of disloyalty.

The woman sat immobile on the cold ground, in complete contrast to the crowds around her who wandered restlessly and aimlessly or merely stood and shouted abuse or cried and pleaded to their captors. She concentrated her attention elsewhere. Despite the confusion and despair of those around her, no one walked through her field of vision or tried to talk to her. Even in their agitated states they could sense her concentration and she was left alone.

There were over a thousand people packed into the cage, and all of them had, by now, flushed the serum from their systems. Not all, though, were happy about finally being able to think again. To some it brought with it the full impact of their desperate situation and despair ran through the caged humans like a wave that seemed to grow in strength as if it were a disembodied parasite, feeding off their raw emotions. There were others who just fell to their knees and sobbed, others still who merely stood, almost returning to the catatonic state the serum had forced upon them for the last two years.

And, finally, there were those who raged and threw themselves at the walls, or each other, as they sought something, anything, that they could vent their frustration on. Some few, and they were mostly lost among the sheer numbers in the cage, retained their cool and began to look about them, to take note of their surroundings and began to plan their next moves. They stayed purposely hidden among the others, out of sight of the thrall guards during the day, and especially from the vampires at night.

Tanya Syn had long ago ceased to concern herself with the pain in her bottom. The cold from the ground had seeped through her as she sat and numbed the area hours ago. Her eyes looked through the fence and over to the other compound, hoping to catch a glimpse of her children. While outwardly she appeared to be almost catatonic, inwardly her mind raced. She took note of the guards as they patrolled, where they walked, how long they took to complete a circuit and, more importantly, how often they disappeared into the warmth of the barracks when they should be on patrol. This only happened during the day, of course, while their masters slept. The colder it got the more often they disappeared.

A few years ago California had enjoyed far better weather and had never really gotten this cold, but global warming had changed many things even before the energy crisis had forced the world to adopt the strategies everyone had avoided and procrastinated over. Even when whole weather patterns had changed so completely as to be unrecognisable and natural disasters seemed almost commonplace, man had not heeded the warnings until, finally, the resources ran too low to continue their rollercoaster run to their own destruction. Now, winter hit the west coast hard with freezing weather that had changed the lives of everyone years before the vampires had come.

Energy came from nuclear power plants that could not output enough power for everyone, and so each plant had become a focal point of influence in the new world. She remembered how travel had been the first thing to be restricted and then it had become impossible as whole communities began to grow evermore insular. Siege mentality reigned and trade became something that only the richer communities engaged in. Instead of growing together to overcome their problems, mankind had decided to play to its own, baser, characteristics and the world had changed in a very short timeframe.

Lack of energy had not been the only reason that travel and communications had become rare. The earth itself had seemed to turn against those who had poisoned her for so long and the weather had grown worse as the planet began the long process of healing itself. It was almost like the planet was trying to reduce the impact humans could have by restricting their ability to move freely. That, of course, had made it easy for the vampires when they had come. Now, she thought ironically, the weather might just work in her favour.

The thralls still came to their cage and took their pick of the people, some to feed the vampires and others for their own carnal lusts. Sometimes they threw these unfortunates back, bruised and battered or dangerously drained of blood. They did not particularly care whether these people lived or died, they had plenty more to choose from. She noted that victims were taken from all the compounds she could see at different times, but it seemed that the cage that she was in was the only one where humans were taken every time the feeding bell sounded.

She knew that something was up. Her cage was the only one where people were not under the influence of the serum, the silence of the other cages and the cries and despair emanating from her own cage was far too obvious to miss. Many times thralls had passed close to her but no one had pulled her to her feet and dragged her off. Some had come close, but, at the last minute, something had seemed to stop them and they had chosen someone else instead.

She looked down at the numerous tracks in her arms where she had been violated numerous times as her blood had been forcibly taken from her. She had little or no memory of the last two years, but the number of bruises and scabs on her flesh testified that she had been taken many times during her captivity.

She had not seen either of her children since yesterday, but at least they had not been chosen as food or worse since she had begun her vigil. If she was to get to them she would need help. She blinked and then began the long process of getting to her feet. Her muscles screamed at her and the blood burned through her veins as she uncoiled her legs. She felt numb and stumbled as she tried to rise. Her left leg was completely useless and she felt herself fall; only to have her decent halted by powerful arms that held her up easily.

“I wondered when you were going to move,” the deep voice grunted in her ear. “I assume you have a hell of a plan to get out of here or has my patience been a complete waste of time?”

“So, have you any ideas?” Harris asked.

Father Reilly sighed and brought his hand to his balding head and scratched. “Peter, I haven’t a clue. It’s just unfathomable that any of us could do such a thing, let alone one of the committee.”

“Is Regan right?” Harris asked as he blew on his fingers to keep them warm. The two men had met at the edge of what was considered safe territory, just inside the range of the wireless protection, though Harris constantly scanned the sky for any sign of vampires. It was early yet, but the heavy cloud cover hid a weak sun and, while it was risky, it was certainly possible for the older vampires to venture out in such light. “Could no one else get to the storeroom?”

“It certainly seems that way. It would be difficult to get to the food, though I wouldn’t want to condemn someone based on it being merely difficult.” Reilly sighed. “Why would they ruin the food? I mean they will starve right along with the rest of us.”

“Either they had orders to do so or they have access to food we don’t know about.” Harris laid down his weapon and blew on his fingers.

“No,” Reilly said emphatically, “there’s no way there is any food in that camp that we don’t know about.”

“Father,” Harris laid his hand on the priest’s shoulder, “they’ve been spying on us for some time now, passing word back to California without us knowing. Hiding a little food wouldn’t be beyond their capability.”

Reilly paused as he considered that and then rubbed at his eyes. Harris could see the strain on the priest’s face. His eyes were far more sunken than the last time he had seen him. His face was grey and the lines which had given him his craggy, stern distinction were now merely heavy jowls which seemed to weigh him down. His thin, wispy hair was matted and hung limply against his skull and his shoulders, once straight and powerful, were now bent slightly. Harris was worried about his friend. He had never fully recovered from his injuries and he pushed himself far too hard. He considered asking him to move to the cave but he knew that that would solve nothing so he kept quiet.

“How do we catch him?”

“It could be a woman, remember,” Harris cautioned him. Reilly was about to object and then thought better of it and merely nodded. “If we knew what was driving them we might be able to narrow it down. Do we know the background of all the committee members?”

Reilly looked at him quizzically.

“As I see it, this person is acting for one of two reasons. Either they are being coerced through some form of blackmail or they are acting purely out of greed. We need to see who has close family that are still missing; maybe Von Richelieu is holding them to keep our traitor compliant. On the other hand, we need to see who is more likely to act in their own interest on such a scale as to sell us all out. You’ll need help to cover all of them. Are there enough of those you can trust with this type of work?”

Reilly nodded. “As the only priest in the community I am in a unique position to see a part of those who come to me that most others never see. Unfortunately not everyone comes to me.” He sighed and then forced a smile but Harris could see that it did not reach his eyes. Don’t worry, my friend, there are enough for what I need among the community.” Reilly paused and then suddenly began to pat his pockets. “I nearly forgot.” He smiled again and this time his eyes sparkled with genuine humour and it transformed his features. “It seems that love transcends all barriers. How is that young boy…man, I should say, Ricks?”

“He’s coming along nicely.” Harris took the folded note. “He has a good head on his shoulders.”

“Mind you keep it there or there will be a very angry young woman in camp. I promised her you would keep him safe. Will you pass this on to him for her?”

“Of course.” Harris placed the note in his jacket. “How did she know to give the note to you?”

“Love will always find a way.” The priest smiled again but it was more tired this time.

“Be careful,” Harris warned. “If she can identify you as the conduit to me then so too can the traitor, especially after you announced it to the committee. You are a threat to them and they know it now.”

Reilly was about to make light of the danger but he saw the worry in the younger man’s face and he merely nodded and patted Harris on the hand.

“Speaking of danger,” he asked, changing the subject. “What mad caper do you have planned now?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Harris smirked. “We’re going to blow up some nuclear waste.”

As the two men parted with a warm hug, Father Reilly walked slowly back toward the community with a heavy heart. His worry for Harris and the others weighed heavily upon him, but they all played a dangerous game and there was danger enough for all of them. He set his mind to his own task and began to compile a list of people he could trust. He was surprised that the list was still quite short by the time he entered the familiar halls of their main living area. It seemed that he did not really know the majority of the community’s residents as well as he had thought he did.

Except for a few notable exceptions, he lived among a few thousand strangers, any one of whom could be their quarry. He had been so busy of late consoling so many people that he had not had time to forge strong ties with anyone. He had a lot of work to do and so little time to do it in.

The destroying of the food indicated an escalation in whichever agenda their traitor was working toward, and he needed to bring together a strong force to first identify and then combat whatever they had planned. He needed a group of trusted agents who could travel invisibly among the community to follow and compile information on their chief subjects. He thrust his hands into his pockets and suddenly thought of the young Logan girl and her little band of adventurers. He quickened his stride as his excitement grew.

The figure watched as the priest and Harris parted. If they acted quickly they could probably take them both of the figures out. The figure brought the pistol up and sighted along its barrel but a sound to its left made the figure stop. As they scanned the ruins of the street they picked out two men walking through the rubble. The figures appeared casual at first glance but the figure noted that their weapons were held ready and their heads constantly scanned the surrounding area.

Harris had brought company. The figure cursed. For a moment they considered firing anyway and making a run for it. There was a chance that they could lose themselves in the ruins, but, equally, there was also a chance that they would be caught. And that couldn’t happen. Reluctantly, they lowered the gun. There would be another time.

For a moment they considered following the priest and breaking his neck before he got back to safety. It would be so easy; the old fool was so frail his neck would snap easily. But it might be better to let him live for now and take note of who he spoke to. Identifying those who would plot against what must be was paramount. The priest was still needed to lead the way to all those involved in the plot. Then they would be able to eliminate all of the conspirators. The figure melted back into the shadows and followed its prey.

Chapter 12

“Where do we even start?” whined Robert Seager.

Father Reilly pursed his lips and sighed. “Maybe I was too hasty, bringing this to you.” He began to get to his feet, “I’ll go to some older…”

“Don’t mind him, Father,” Emma interrupted as she reached out to stop the priest from rising any further. “Bob is just a little slow.” She turned and shot a glare at Seager that dried his intended retort and left him open-mouthed and silent in the corner.

“We can do this,” Emma assured him and swept her hand in a motion for him to continue.

The priest seemed to consider this for a moment and the kids held their breaths while the older man made up his mind about whether they were up to the challenge. He could see a few of them shoot the boy Seager dark glances as they thought he might have blown it for them. Reilly played his part well. In reality, these kids were his only hope of keeping an eye on the committee members without them finding out that they were under surveillance. These kids were the only ones who could remain invisible in the community. No one paid them any mind at all as they raced around doing who-knew-what. Everyone else in the community had a job and would be noticed if they weren’t where they should be.

He hated to put these children in danger, but he had no intention of letting it get that far. All he wanted was for them to keep an eye on a few of the main suspects and report back to him. No one should even know they were there.

“Well, okay,” he sighed with as much reluctance as he could muster, “but you must promise to stick to the plan and go no further. There is an element of danger in this so you must stick to the script.” He glared at each child in the room to try and impress upon them the seriousness of this task, but he could see by their smiles and glazed eyes that they were already caught up in the fantasy of agents and spies.

“Don’t worry, Father,” Emma Logan interrupted his thoughts, “I’ll take care of them.”

He looked at the girl for a moment. She was the only female in the group and seemed to play the role of mother as well as designated leader, though he could see that the larger boy, Seager, considered himself to be in charge. He chuckled to himself as he realised that most men thought the same in their relationships, but it was rarely the case. Young Miss Logan was most definitely the driving force of this group.

He had met her mother and he marvelled that this girl could be so well balanced with a mother who only cared about where her next drop of alcohol would come from. It hadn’t taken the men of the community long to learn where they could find a warm bed for the price of a bottle of spirits. His heart went out to this poor girl who had to live in the same room where her mother entertained her callers. He had tried to offer her accommodation with another family but she had refused, saying that someone had to take care of her mother.

She had had to take care of herself, her brother and her mother during the hard times before the vampires had come and she still saw it as her role to take care of them now. He wondered how she had managed to survive the early days when technology had broken down and before the vampires had come. Those days had been filled with death and depravity. The breakdown of law and order had seen many revert to their baser instincts and many people had been killed, raped or abandoned as humanity struggled to come to terms with an existence without the technology and the easy living most had come to know. The fact that she and her family had survived at all was a testament to this young girl’s abilities.

He could see that she had grown up without the delicate hand of a mother, though. She was a very pretty girl, but she dressed like a boy, hung around with boys and wore her amber hair stuffed inside a baseball cap that she wore constantly. He could see errant tresses stick out here and there, but she seemed to be trying to deny her true self behind this tough image.

She was on the cusp of becoming a woman and seemed determined not to allow that to happen. It was obvious to him that this was because she did not want to be like her mother. It was just a pity that she did not know that she could be her own person and a woman at the same time. He would have to have a talk with a few of the more enlightened women in his flock and see if they could help her through this difficult time.

“Okay,” he said at last and almost smiled when he heard the numerous exhalations of breath around the small room. He had come to them in their comic shop headquarters. They had been surprised to see him as they had thought their secret hideaway was actually a secret. This was his biggest worry in involving them in his mission: he had to impress upon them that growing into adulthood did not always mean that one lost all one’s intelligence, despite all the evidence contradicting this.

At their age they saw themselves as reflections of the heroes that filled the walls around him. They may not wear the lurid spandex of these costumed heroes but they considered themselves every bit as indestructible. He would have to impress upon them the reality of their situation.

“But this is not a game.” He took a moment to fix each of them with as serious a glare as he could manage. “This is a very dangerous task; if anyone discovers what you are doing there will be very serious problems. What I have told you about the food stores is not known by many people, and must not become general knowledge. We are in a very delicate position at the moment and people must believe that there is enough food for everyone or people will start to hoard food and people will die.” He paused and nodded as he saw smiles slip and faces turn pale. He was getting through. Good!

“You can’t tell anyone, not your parents, not even your other friends. Understand?” He waited till each child nodded. “Now, no one knows that I have told you this so I trust you to keep it quiet. Someone in this community deliberately turned on the water sprinklers and ruined all that food. I don’t know why, but, by this act, they have ensured that some among us will die, unless a miracle happens. So whoever it is will have no problem keeping a child silent to protect their own skin. You follow these people, but that’s it. Stay in pairs, stay in touch with the others, and don’t follow anyone past the populated areas.”

“But then how do we find out what they’re doing?” Robert Seager interrupted and ignored the glares from the others. “I mean, it’s not like they’ll be doing anything suspicious in front of everyone. We’re only going to see anything useful when they’re away out of sight.”

“That may be true,” Father Reilly agreed, “but the fact remains that you all must promise not to follow anyone into any area outside the confines of this community.”

No one spoke at first, and then, slowly, they began to promise. He didn’t believe them for a moment, of course, but these were desperate times. He had to weigh the danger these children might face against the lives of all of the people in this community. God forgive him, but he was prepared to take that chance. He looked again at the walls around the shop. Even in comics heroes died. Captain America had lost Bucky; Batman had lost more than one Robin. Those two titular heroes had, in fact, died themselves. The names of those who had fallen for what was right flooded through his mind and he hoped fervently that none of these young adventurers were added to that list.

“Have you noticed that the other pens are still under the serum’s effects?” Tanya gently, but firmly, removed the man’s hand from her arm as she regained her balance. The man shrugged and sat on the ground beside her. She looked over at him for a moment, taking in his ragged beard, torn clothes and general dishevelment with a quick glance before she turned her attention back to the thralls patrolling the area around the pens.

The man sighed and held up his hands and started to pick at the dirt under his nails. “You know,” he began again, “they seem to be on a twelve minute cycle from the time they go past here to the time they turn that corner down there and then are back in sight of this pen.”

She looked over at him again, arching her eyebrow slightly. He had a rather high voice for such a broad physique, she thought idly. She returned her gaze to the courtyard in front of them as she settled back to the ground and sat beside him. They were in a large pen to the side of a huge square. She had no idea where in the city they were, as the buildings that had once stood here had been demolished and cleared away sometime in the last two years. The ground was hard and uneven, as if the buildings and the ground itself had been hacked rather than cleared. She could see huge mounds of rubble in the distance where it had been crudely pushed to each side of the cleared space, and it seemed, from where she sat, that they were surrounded by mountains on three sides.

There were five pens that she could see from this position, but there could be more just on the other side of the rubble, for all she knew. The cleared area stretched for nearly a mile in each direction before the rubble began and grew steeply to a height of some twelve feet, though it was hard to judge from this distance.

The stranger’s information matched her own but she wasn’t prepared to offer anything herself at this time. She was reluctant to let anything distract her from her goal. She couldn’t help but notice the man’s eyes, though. They were a pale blue, almost sapphire, with small flecks of grey that seemed to pull her in to their depths. The dirt smeared around his face only accentuated the paleness of his eyes, and she had to shake herself as she realised she was staring.

The man chuckled and his face transformed as a smile spread across his face. It suited him, she thought as she continued to look him over. His hair was long and flat from long neglect and she found herself bringing her hand to her own neglected hair unconsciously. Personal hygiene was not something one cared about under the serum and everyone looked somewhat less than their best.

All the men in the pen had ragged salt and pepper beards and long hair, and the women had brambles for hair, many of which had turned grey over the last two years without the aid of colouring dyes. This man seemed no different than the others, at first glance. There was nothing that stood out about him, but still, he seemed to command her attention, not the least if which because he had bothered to map out the guards’ patrols. She was about to turn away again but she found herself pausing for a moment as she looked at him in more detail.

He wasn’t handsome in the classic sense, though there was something about him that was easy on the eye. His nose was a little on the long side, not quite hawkish but certainly aquiline, but his cheeks were high and full and kept his features in balance. There were lines around his eyes that attested to his age, which she put in his late thirties, and the fact that, in happier times, he was never far from a smile. He had no shoes and his feet were badly scabbed from the rough ground. His jeans were looser than they had been when he had bought them too. They had all lost weight while they had been imprisoned. His shirt was dirt-encrusted and faded.

“Have you figured out why they’ve switched strategies yet?” he asked, ignoring her stares. She was uncertain where she wanted to go from here. She knew that she would need help if she was to get out of this pen and get to her children, but she did not want to attract people who would slow her down and be too frightened to do what was necessary. This man seemed nice enough but was he after company or was he prepared to risk his life to get out of here? She needed men who were capable of handling themselves and not those who just wanted to handle her.

“I reckon they’re testing some theory,” he continued despite her silence. “Something has happened and they are seeing if there is a difference between those who take the serum and those who don’t.”

Tanya pursed her lips as she considered that. She realised with shock that she hadn’t given any thought as to why they had been taken off the serum. The fact that she was off it had been enough for her, but, she suddenly realised, she had been wrong. Of course there was a reason why they had been weaned off the serum, there must be. They had been drugged for two years and nothing like this had ever happened before that she knew of, so something must have changed - but what? She looked at the man again with new respect. She might need people who could handle themselves but she also needed some who could think. She wasn’t good at forward planning and she would need a plan if she did manage to get out. It wasn’t enough just to get out and then see what happened.

“If you do get out,” the man continued, “you’ll need to head west, you know.”

“Why?” she asked before she could stop herself.

He chuckled again. “I was beginning to wonder if you spoke at all. Well, west is the only direction I can see where that mountain of rubble has a pathway that you can use to get over it.”

“Why not north along that line where there’s a gap?” she asked as she nodded in the direction she had spoken of.

“Well,” he breathed out in a long sigh. “I personally wouldn’t head that way. It’s far too obvious; even those thralls should be able to figure out that that’s where most people would head for. You wouldn’t be free long if you follow the easiest path out of here. But that’s just an opinion.”

Tanya felt her cheeks burn as she realised how stupid her suggestion had been. God, even if she did get out of here she’d end up being captured again in no time. She looked over toward the west and it took a few minutes before she noticed the small path which ran diagonally up the face of the rubble. She had missed it completely before. The other mountains of rubble were all impossible to scale with their jagged rocks and metal shards sticking wickedly outward like a cunning medieval defence. Someone had purposely created that path for some reason and it would be perfect if they could manage to get out.

“Yeah,” the man continued, “once you’re over that rubble you’re into the old Parkway district and, assuming it’s not all gone, there are plenty of places to hide while you make your way out of the valley. Of course, getting out of this pen is the problem.” He looked over at her and winked.

She laughed. It was the first time she had laughed for as long as she could remember, and it felt good.

“I’m Tanya.” She offered her hand to the stranger.

“Harris,” he replied, taking her hand and squeezing gently, “Josh Harris.”

Captain William Carter approached the small knoll with more than a little trepidation. While he had wanted this meeting to take place for some time now he had also dreaded it almost to the point of paralysis. His former master was as likely to rip him apart as he was to listen to any proposal and Carter had no idea which way this meeting was going to go. But, he realised, he couldn’t just not turn up either. If he and Von Kruger could not agree terms then they would weaken each other in their constant fighting and leave both of them vulnerable to attack from their borders and from the humans and their wonderful new weapons.

Not that he had any intention of honouring any agreement they might come to, no more so than Von Kruger could be trusted to keep his side of any bargain. But an alliance of convenience now would allow him the time to put his own house in order, stabilise his territory and find the humans. Once he had their weaponry he would be able to dictate his terms from a position of unassailable strength. And for that he was willing to walk into hell and make a deal with the devil himself. Of course, his resolve didn’t prevent him from being terrified, and his legs wobbled slightly as he strode as confidently as he could toward the designated meeting place.

He had been surprised that the request had come from Von Kruger at this time. He had been in the final stages of planning his foray into Nero’s territory and he had thought at first that Von Kruger had somehow found out about his intentions and had called this meeting to dissuade him from his intended action. But why would he do that? Was he afraid of an alliance between himself and Nero? Was that even possible or was he over-thinking the whole thing?

Maybe his own assassination of three of Von Kruger’s Lieutenants had been the final straw, and even now Von Kruger was waiting ahead in the darkness to return the favour and tear him to pieces. He shuddered at the thought but kept moving forward regardless of his fear. He wasn’t totally unprotected, of course. His men were under orders to kill every human prisoner in the territory if he didn’t return from this meeting. With no food supply, Von Kruger would be forced to attack the thralls for food, and he had made sure that his men were all prepared, well-armed and secure in fortified buildings throughout the state. Many would die, of course, but so too would the vampires. He really didn’t think Von Kruger wanted that. He was so sure, in fact, that he was prepared to come to this meeting alone.

He looked towards the top of the knoll and saw a dark figure on the rise silhouetted against the waning light as the sun sank below the horizon. It seemed for a moment to Carter that the darkness was racing up the hill as it chased the last tendrils of light. When he had begun his journey he had easily kept pace and remained in the light, but the veil of darkness had passed him a while ago and the cold air made him shiver - at least, that was what he had convinced himself of.

Von Kruger had come alone too. But then, why wouldn’t he? He was the Supreme Being. The all-powerful vampire. Carter chuckled. Not too all-powerful that he had requested, not demanded, a meeting with a lowly thrall, though.

“You’re late, thrall.” The vampire’s words reached him easily even though he was still fifty feet away.

Was that impatience?

Carter smiled in the darkness and then quickly wiped the smile away. The vampire could see clearly in the darkness and there was no point in antagonising him.

“I had to take more,” he paused as he finally drew level, “conventional means of travel.” The silence grew between the two figures as they studied each other. Carter was happy to take a few moments to catch his breath, and besides, he hadn’t called the meeting. Let the bastard come to the point.

“You have taken your chances well, human.”

The compliment was grudgingly given but the use of the word ‘human’ was calculated to let Carter know that there was a pecking order to this meeting. It did, however, bode well that he had begun the meeting somewhat positively. Carter, however, was not prepared to start off on the wrong foot.

“I am not human, anymore than you are, vampire,” he spat the words out with a little more vehemence than he had intended, and he cursed himself for letting Von Kruger get to him.

“You are closer to human than vampire,” Von Kruger began with a fire in his eyes that had Carter almost ready to flee back down the knoll. The only thing that kept him in place was the sure knowledge that he would not get two paces before the vampire tore him apart. Had he gone too far? He stood terrified as he watched the vampire fight the anger that threatened to engulf him. It was almost as if there were two personalities at war with each other. But which would come out on top?

“But,” the vampire finally managed a word and with it came an easing of the muscles in his face as he regained control. “We are not here to trade insults, thrall. We have a problem.”

“The humans.” Carter nodded.

“Indeed.” Von Kruger looked over Carter and he got the distinct impression he was still deciding whether he should continue talking or merely feed. “There are few ways they can evade our powers. I have determined that they must be hiding underground and have compiled a list of the most practical sites…”

“You are assuming that they are within the area you are searching.”

Von Kruger looked as though he had been slapped and again Carter could only watch as the vampire struggled against his nature once again.

“Where else could they be?” he shouted as spittle flew from his mouth and sprayed Carter. Carter forced himself to remain calm and merely wiped his face casually. “I believe they are hiding outside our territory,” he stressed the word ‘our’, “and cross the border when they want to attack or steal humans or resources.”

Von Kruger looked at him incredulously for a moment, and then suddenly burst out laughing. It was so unexpected that Carter felt himself growing red with embarrassment and anger. “And I thought you were an adversary worthy of my respect. It seems I was mistaken. Nero controls the closest territory to us and even I would think twice about operating in his dominion, let alone a pathetic band of humans. It seems I was wrong about you, human.” He spat the word and loomed over Carter alarmingly. Carter could hear the grinding of bone and splitting of flesh as the vampire began to change.

Carter stood his ground and forced himself to look the vampire in the eyes. He could see the madness there and he despaired. There could be no truce with such a creature. He was far too unstable.

“You are pathetic,” Von Kruger continued as his body grew to tower over him, but Carter remained firm despite the fear that gripped him. This moment would define his position for the future - assuming of course that Von Kruger did not lose himself to his bestial side entirely.

“We are done here,” Von Kruger continued as his body slowly began to return to normal with a crunching of bone that grated on Carter’s nerves. “I will allow you to live for now in accordance to the truce that we speak under. But, mark my words, human.” Von Kruger looked him in the eye and all signs of the madness were gone. Somehow that made the vampire more frightening. “Once I have found the humans buried and huddled in their cement graves I will seek you out and you shall know true terror before I finally let you die.”

Carter felt the familiar fear that vampires used to petrify their prey suffuse through him, but he fought against it. He had killed vampires, and their parlour tricks no longer held him in thrall to them. He stared back defiantly and was pleased to see uncertainty in the vampire’s eyes. He took strength from this and forced his voice to remain calm as he replied.

“You may control the night, vampire, but I control the day, and you will learn to fear each dawn as you wake to see your numbers dwindling until, finally, there is only you remaining. And then I will come for you personally.” Without waiting for a response Carter forced himself to turn and walk away. He imagined all kinds of responses, impotent anger, shouted curses or being dragged to the ground and mauled. He forced himself to keep walking on nervous legs, tense and ready for an attack, until, finally, he heard a violent rustling and the wash of air that signified that the vampire had taken to the air.

Well that didn’t exactly work out as planned, he thought as he finally allowed himself to drop to his knees and throw up on the dark carpet of grass. It was some time before he found the strength to rise and return to his men.

Chapter 13

“How many?”

Philip Warkowski ignored the speaker as he swept the structure systematically with his telescopic sight, pausing for a moment on each thrall before moving on to the next. When he reached twenty five he sighed and laid down his rifle.

“Too fucking many,” he sighed as he turned to face Harris and the others. “There’s a lot more guards in that facility than I would have expected. I mean, it’s not as if it’s on the border with any other states.”

“Maybe the tension between the vampires and the thralls is worse than we thought,” Sandra Harrington suggested and Warkowski pursed his lips.

“It’s possible, I suppose. There are more than are needed to guard the facility against a normal attack, but there aren’t really enough of them to fight off a concerted attack by vampires. I don’t know.”

The group had spent the last two days travelling here, avoiding the highways and keeping to the back roads wherever possible. Over the last few months they had noticed that the thralls tended to travel on the path of least resistance. There had been a concerted effort in the last year to clear the highways of debris and any burnt out husks that dated back to the war.

The thralls now had a clear run throughout the states on highways that allowed them to travel quickly when needed. The benefit of this, as far as Harris and his group were concerned, was that the thralls never bothered to venture off the highways anymore. Of course, these scenic routes passed through towns, some of which were deserted and some of which were still being used as holding pens for humans, so it was not easy for the rebels to use these roads. However, they had been able to travel by truck more than half the distance to the plant before they were forced to abandon their vehicle and continue on foot.

The nuclear plant occupied a huge area. Ricks told them that it sat on over 650 acres of land, but hearing it and seeing it were very different. Harris was amazed that the plant itself was so big. He wasn’t sure what he had expected but it certainly wasn’t something of this size. From where they watched, Harris could see the edge of the nearby city of Bridgman which still flourished, mainly because they had control of the power for the whole county. The city occupied an area approximately twice the size of the plant and was only three miles away from where they were.

He could see three pens in the distance and, as he brought his binoculars to his eyes to examine them, he could see humans shuffling vacantly within the prisons. He wondered again why the prisoners were still being given the serum. Didn’t the vampires know the danger? He paused in his sweep of the area for a moment as he realised that maybe that was it. Von Richelieu hadn’t told the other vampires of the danger the serum posed. But why? Was there friction between the vampires? That would be an interesting development that he might be able to use in the future. For now, though, there was work to be done, and he shook himself from his thoughts as he refocused on the job at hand.

Harris wasn’t sure what he expected from the plant itself but this certainly wasn’t it. The plant was surrounded on three sides by lush forest, and it looked out over Lake Michigan on its fourth side. Access to the plant was via a road which ran parallel to the water for over a mile, and the views were spectacular. He hadn’t really expected such a plant to be so beautiful or for it to fit into the landscape so well. A huge, grassed and well-kept area surrounded the plant, providing an ordered and controlled space before the wild and chaotic majesty of the forest took over. The flowers were a little ragged now that no-one cared for them and they had overgrown their designated areas. The grass was more of a meadow than the neat, landscaped area it had once been, but he could imagine what it would have looked like before the war, and he was impressed.

The front of the plant was dominated by a huge, perfectly normal office block which did not look threatening or out of place, despite its size. In fact, Harris wondered how such a powerful and potentially dangerous structure could be made to look so innocuous. The backdrop to the plant was incredible, though, as it looked out over a well-kept beach front. The rumble of the waves as they rolled up onto the beach in front of the plant reached him from where he was observing the plant. It all seemed so normal, except for the thralls walking the perimeter, of course.

The plant contained two nuclear reactors according to Ricks, but Harris never would have known what they were if he hadn’t been told. They didn’t spew toxic smoke into the air, they didn’t have huge ‘DANGER’ signs with skulls on them as he had expected. Behind the office block, two huge structures, like large breasts, thrust upwards and dominated the building despite their innocuousness. There was something powerful about them, something that announced their importance, and their majesty made him shiver when he considered how dangerous they had now become in this new world.

There was a small pen just behind the reactors that contained around twenty or so humans, all of whom stared vacantly as they shuffled aimlessly within the confines of their prison. Harris wondered why this pen was here at all when there were far larger enclosures only a few miles away, and he felt his anger begin to boil as he realised it was probably there for the convenience of visiting vampires. God, he thought bitterly. Is this what the human race has become? Merely a fast food stop on the way to the nearest city.

He turned to the others, his anger still flushing his cheeks as he regarded those he had brought. Ricks was with them, of course. The boy - young man, he corrected himself - was the only one with any knowledge of nuclear waste and he was essential to their planning. April sat beside him. There had been no point in trying to dissuade her, and they needed the numbers if he was honest. April had become very focused since Sherman had attacked her and Von Richelieu had sent Steele back to them as a vampire. She had lost her innocence and, as far as Harris could tell, her ability to smile. It had been her sixteenth birthday last week but, despite the effort of the small group to mark the event, she had not joined in with the celebrations.

Harris was worried about her. He had hoped that having Ricks around - he was around the same age after all - would have had a positive effect, but, while they got on well and always seemed to be together, he didn’t sense any joy in her at all. Ricks was trying his best to learn sign, and his hands were constantly moving as he practised, but no one really had the time to teach him so his progress was slow. In fact, very few of them had a very large vocabulary in sign, so April was increasingly being left out of conversations. She could lip read incredibly well, but couldn’t put her views and ideas across if no one understood what she was saying. He would have to make a special effort to involve her more or risk isolating her further. There was just so much to do and so little time.

Warkowski was there, of course. He was the only one left from the original group, except for himself and Sandra, and Harris couldn’t help but see the others in his mind when he looked at the big man. Warkowski had grown more sombre in the last few months; in fact, the only time he smiled now was when he was with his family. They had been left behind at the Cave as this was a strike and withdraw mission which did not have room for non-combatants.

As he thought about it now, he realised that there was nothing for these people to look forward to really, just more danger and death as they continued to risk their lives relentlessly day after day. They were all capable, of course, or they would not be here, but, Harris realised suddenly, they also needed a goal. Rescue mission after rescue mission did not give them something to strive for and he could see now that everyone in this small group was close to breaking. How could I have missed it? He had been so caught up with trying to save others that he hadn’t seen that those who had already been saved needed more than he had given them.

His cheeks flushed deeper as he realised suddenly what each of these people had given up in following him when he had been banished. Some of them had even left their families behind, thinking they’d be safer with the community. Their forced separation was beginning to hurt them though, more than they had expected. Joshua Perkins, one of those who had joined after Ricks had come forward, had left his mother behind in the community and Carlos Mendez had left his younger brother.

These men were promising recruits; Mendez had already gone through formal training with the local detachment of the National Guard before the war and then had been conscripted into the army, however, he had not seen much action before the serum had defeated them all. He had a good head on his shoulders though. Perkins had been an office worker. He had worked in Marketing and wasn’t really all that co-ordinated. He did make up for his lack of ability with a desire to improve though and Harris couldn’t ask for much more than that.

Al Warnback sat a little to their left and he wore a frown on his weathered face, he always wore a frown so that was nothing new. Warnback had surprised Harris when he had joined their small party and it had taken him a while to figure out why he had come. Sure, he was one of the more promising recruits, but that really wasn’t enough reason to throw his lot in with them. Warnback had come from Chicago and his last memory had been that of his wife and two-year-old child being torn apart by a vampire before he had been taken prisoner by the thralls.

He was a quiet man, but there was something disturbing bubbling under the surface that worried Harris. Of course, he had every right to be angry and to hate the vampires, but he was a borderline obsessive who seemed to enjoy killing a little too much for Harris’s taste. On the other hand, the man was brave, competent and Harris really needed the manpower so he had welcomed him into the group. He would just have to watch him carefully in case his zeal put anyone else in danger.

Sandra sat beside Delilah Franklin and they smiled as they shared a confidence. The two women looked tired, with their hair pulled back severely into tight buns. It saved washing constantly and getting in the way at the wrong moment but did little to soften their features. Their faces were pale and drawn, but they both sat straight and alert. Their weapons lay across their knees, cleaned and oiled but dulled to prevent reflections off the metal. Would it ever end? Should they just forget everybody else and concentrate on their own survival? Would life be any better?

The thoughts tumbled through his head as he was afforded a rare insight into those who followed him. He knew they were all committed to the same cause, but was it his strength that drove them? Would any of them be here if they hadn’t followed him?

His obsession, He was honest enough to recognise that he was obsessed, driven. But why were they here? Did he have the right to ask them to risk their lives and those of their loved ones for his cause? The only thing they had achieved so far was to be thrown out by those they had saved in the first place. What was it about him that demanded such all-or-nothing reactions from those who knew him? For that matter, why was he himself so driven?

He knew his obsession had its roots in his surviving when everyone else who had followed him had been torn apart. But that didn’t explain everything. He had found of late that he could not set his mind to anything else. He had tried to concentrate on training recruits and staying quiet but there was something inside him that drove him to rescue one more batch of prisoners, and then another. He found that the thought of thousands, millions of humans helpless in their captivity was too much for him and he had to do something or risk going mad.

His dreams were filled with prisoners dying agonising deaths as the serum burned them from within. He saw each individual die horribly, their eyes locked with his in accusation. He had no idea what was causing it, social conscience, guilt, humanity - it could be any or all of them. But his dreams were so extreme that he had gotten into the habit of sleeping less and less in order to avoid them. It was as if he had to do something and whatever it was that was causing these reactions would not go away until he had fulfilled his task. Unfortunately he didn’t know what his task was, so he was forced to go out again and again in the hope that, one day, he would achieve whatever it was that was driving him.

He caught Denis Jackson’s eye and smiled wanly at him. The man’s white teeth were like a beacon against his dark skin and his eyes seemed to dance in the air, unsupported in the dark until the clouds moved past the moon and they were all bathed by its pale silvery light. Below them he heard a deep cough as an engine turned over and then a raspy rumble of thunder as an engine roared to life.

“There’s some activity over here,” Benjamin Franklin whispered and Harris moved over to his position to have a look.

There were two large container trucks in the open area behind the large reactors. The beds of the containers looked like any other base that he had seen on the docks when cranes lowered the huge metal containers like slabs of Lego into place. On these containers, though, were strange concrete dumbbells. One of the trucks was loaded and ready to go but the other one was still empty.

“That piece in the middle is where the nuclear waste is housed.” Ricks bellied up beside Harris and pointed down toward the loaded truck. “The two ends are what they call ‘impact limiters.’ They’re meant to protect the waste in the event of a crash.”

“You don’t seem too confident,” Jackson said as he looked over at Ricks.

“Nobody really knows.” Ricks shrugged. “The only tests they ever did were by computer simulation based on data from the 1960s. My father argued that the parameters did not take into account the higher speeds and the hotter-burning fuels we have now.”

“Just how bad will this spill be if it all goes wrong?” Harris asked as he began to realise the reality of what they planned.

“Based on the stats my Dad was using,” Ricks paused for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. “His stats estimated that one truck could cause around 42 square miles of damage if left untended for a few hours. Of course, there are also prevailing winds to consider and the chance that rain could wash the waste into local streams and travel further that way.”

Harris went pale. This really was so far from their comfort zone. If they managed to pull this off it would tie up a lot of resources for months. The thralls would be forced to clean up the spill if they wanted to continue to use the power station or risk losing the station for a few hundred years. This was the best plan they had. It was just blind luck that the thralls seemed to be in the process of moving one of the trucks now.

Ricks had suggested that they would have to transport waste at least once a month to a holding facility which would be off site. The danger of leaving the waste anywhere near the plant was too great and most plants moved the waste to large silos where they waited for transport to a more secure facility. He had no idea what level this holding facility was at or how the thralls planned to empty these silos. He wasn’t even sure if they even knew they had to be emptied at all, but that wasn’t their problem at the moment. The important thing was that they had planned for a long-term wait. They had been pleasantly surprised to find that one truck was already loaded when they had arrived so it looked as though they would not have to wait too long after all.

As the growl of the engine faded to a low rumble, Harris heard another engine start up and then another until it seemed that the whole plant was alive with roaring engines. A number of thralls suddenly appeared from a door to the rear of the facility. They were all well-armed and they crossed to the waiting vehicles and settled themselves in the open trucks that surrounded the waste vehicle.

Another thrall appeared, a huge man who dwarfed the two aides that struggled to keep up with his long strides. The thrall eased himself into a waiting jeep, brought his hands to his lips, whistled sharply and then motioned for his driver to move forward. The gates opened as the jeep approached and the level of noise escalated as each of the vehicles followed one by one.

They were on.

April switched her view between the speakers around her as if she were at a demented tennis match, trying desperately to take in the conversation between them. She understood that they couldn’t all sign and that it would take too long to involve her fully, but it still made her feel like an ignored, small child.

Her life had changed that night when Sherman had attacked her. Not only had she lost her innocence, she had inherited a mistrust of others that she had never had before. She had always been different; she had learned to accept the furtive looks and the sudden, awkward silence that almost always greeted her when she entered a room. People had always felt uncomfortable around her, as if her inability to hear made her a different species. She had worked hard to involve herself by learning the craft of lip reading until she was able to read and even make out partial words so she could fill in the gaps. No matter how she reminded people, they still tended to move their focus among a number of people as they spoke, and she lost sight of their lips many times during a briefing like this.

She had caught the gist of what they were about to do but there were gaps in her knowledge that could lead to problems later. She operated in a vacuum during these missions. She couldn’t hear the gunfire, shouted commands or even the radio, so she knew she could be more of a liability than a help. Harris had spent some time last night going over with her what was going to happen, but, now that they were here and could actually see the layout, there were so many things that could change once they began and no one would be able to update her once the action began.

She wondered again if she should be here at all. She felt as if the group, while they were always nice to her, didn’t really see her as a part of the team. She wondered if she was here only because Steele had thought so highly of her. Was she really capable of contributing to this team or should she be back in the community, minding children or caring for the sick? She knew that she was more withdrawn than before. She had noticed Harris looking at her at times with a worried frown. He had tried to talk to her about Steele and about how his death had affected her, but his ability to speak sign was limited and his fumbling attempts had only reminded how much she missed Steele.

She was sixteen, a young woman, but what was there for her in this world? Every member of this team contributed so much, and she felt insignificant. She was desperate to fight the vampires. They had taken the one person that she had felt safe with from her and his loss had created a hole in her that she was not certain would ever find substance. She had looked on Steele as a kindred spirit; they were both outsiders, tolerated but never really fully accepted. She had looked on Steele as a father figure or an older brother, and when he had returned as a vampire her world had shattered.

Even the fact that he had fought against the vampiric nature growing within him and saved her, taking his own like to save them all, had not been enough to prove the goodness within him. Phelps had ignored Steele’s sacrifice and used him to further alienate Harris from the community. She had wanted to stand up in front of the community, shout at them until they understood that the very people they were turning against were the only ones who had stood up for them when others were too selfish to see beyond their own pathetic greed. But she could not. They would not hear or understand her though. In fact, all she would achieve would be a feeling of pity. She didn’t want their pity. She wanted their understanding.

She felt bad about forcing her way onto the team, but there was something in her that seemed to tug her in this direction. She felt that there was something she had to do but she did not know what it was. She couldn’t even try to explain it to the others. Not only did they have limited sign but she didn’t even understand it herself. A sudden overwhelming sense of impotency gripped her and she looked out over the plant and studied the thralls below. She picked up the binoculars Harris had left and studied the figures still in the courtyard.

Her gaze passed by the humans in the pen and she wondered again how the thralls, who were still human on some level, could treat their own with such abuse. She felt a deep burning inside her that as she saw the thralls open the cage door and begin to push and shove the prisoners around as they laughed. She caught the last few words on a thrall’s lips as he turned towards her and a cold hand clenched her stomach and squeezed hard.

She snapped the binoculars to the other thrall and watched in horror as he replied. It was difficult to see clearly but the lights from the nearby plant threw just enough light for her to pick up the gist of the thrall’s words. Oh my God, she thought. She dropped the binoculars and ran over to Harris, tugging at his shoulder as she frantically gesticulated with her other hand.

“Calm down,” she saw Harris say and he laid a hand on her shoulder in a gentle motion. She shook her head violently as she saw that some of the team were already leaving to their designated positions. She had to get her message across before they left. They couldn’t use radios in case their frequency was discovered and she had to warn them all before it was too late.

She forced herself to calm down and made her fingers slow their dire tidings so that Harris could understand but the confusion etched on his face made her feel more desperate. She saw Sandra come over and she signed her warning again. It took a precious number of minutes and Ricks and Warkowski were already gone from view, but she forced herself to continue signing slowly.

Suddenly Harris’s face dropped as he caught enough words to get the gist. She saw him turn to Jackson but she couldn’t see his lips so she did not know if he had gotten the right message or not. But at least he was doing something. She saw Sandra ask what was going on and she felt relief as she saw Harris’s lips move with the words she had tried so hard to get across.

“April saw two thralls go into the pens and she read their lips. There’s another convoy heading into town. They’re bringing the prisoners along the same road where we plan on hitting the waste. If the hit goes ahead then we’ll end up consigning those people to a horrible death by radiation.”

“Not to mention having another twenty thralls coming up behind us when we’re already engaged,” Jackson sighed as he laid a hand on April’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he mouthed in exaggerated slowness. “It seems you’ve saved us all.”

April barely saw his last words as the tears welled in her eyes. Maybe there was a place for her on the team after all. She saw Ricks and Warkowski come back over the ridge and the news travelled fast as the group settled down to adapt their plan. It was funny, she realised, but this time she somehow felt more involved. This time no one moved their heads too far so she could not see their lips. This time she even found herself contributing. This time she was part of the team.

Chapter 14

Crossing the border felt strange to William Carter. It was as if he had passed into a different world. The road didn’t look any different; the surrounding scenery looked pretty much the same, maybe a little more overgrown than the main routes in his own state, but still relatively the same. But something had definitely changed. This was Nero’s territory and Nero was a completely unknown factor. He may have been low down in the ranks before his sudden, recent rise, but even he knew of the respect and fear that everyone held for Nero.

He had heard the stories of Nero’s cruelty and his genius. He had heard rumours of how Nero had forged his own empire over the bodies of anyone who stood in his way; human, thrall or vampire. The fact that he had disappeared from the scene once he had his territory had been a relief to the council and, especially, to those whose territories bordered his.

No one had seen or spoken to Nero in at least a year that he knew of, and invading with such a force might very well be the worst mistake of his life. On the other hand, if he didn’t find these humans he would almost certain lose everything anyway. He had sent his ambassador but the patrol had never returned. Did Nero know he was here already? Was there a huge force just over the horizon waiting to tear them to pieces? He hadn’t been this scared when he had led his campaign to join the two states together. It wasn’t that he was frightened of action; he was terrified of the legend surrounding Nero. The stories that surrounded the vampire were incredible. Who knew what a true vampire was capable of? Wentworth had only been a weak baby in comparison, and even Von Kruger didn’t have anything like the reputation of Nero.

The very fact that Nero had such a reputation had convinced him for some time that there was no way that the humans could possibly live in this state. Even Von Kruger had mocked him the night before for even suggesting it. But too much pointed toward it now that he could no longer ignore it. If he could convince Nero or his thralls to talk before they moved against him then there was a chance he might just survive. You never knew, he might even profit from this trip yet. His main worry was whether the humans were here at all or had he just fallen for a very elaborate trap. He knew that the humans were well capable of laying such a trap, hadn’t they already set two entire stats at each others throats?

Had the humans laid a false trail that was even now leading him to his death? He wished he could stop thinking completely. He preferred to act rather than analyse everything. However, his new role as leader was forcing him to do a lot more thinking than he was comfortable with. He just wasn’t a strategist; he had never been able to see the whole picture before. He preferred working to a plan that had been laid out for him. But if he wanted to rule he would have to start planning ahead and anticipating his enemies.

He knew that he had to consolidate his position. Now that there was no hope of a peace with Von Kruger it was more important than ever to remove the threat that the humans posed. He also needed their weaponry to back up his threat to Von Kruger and to ensure that his fledgling empire could defend itself from all those who surrounded him. He had to have something that would give them all pause. Something that would make them think twice before committing their forces against him. And the humans had what he wanted.

He was probably the only one who knew of their weaponry and how devastating it was. If he could steal this weapon then he would be able to consolidate his position. In fact, with this weapon he would be able to take the fight to the vampires and unite all thralls under his banner. It wasn’t that he was noble, that he wanted to make life better for other thralls. No, he wanted power and the best way to achieve and hold that power was to annihilate the competition. But he would need a lot of thralls if he wanted to make a move against the vampires.

His meeting with Von Kruger was still fresh in his mind, and, the more he thought of it, the more he marvelled that he was still alive. Von Kruger was mad, of that he was certain. Something had happened to change the vampire. Whether it had been the battle-lust that had driven them to attack the other vampires, he did not know. But something had definitely changed. He had served under Von Kruger for too many years not to know that. While the vampire had always been hot-headed and impetuous, he was also incredibly cunning and his performance last night was far from what he would have expected. The problem now was that this madness would make Von Kruger completely unpredictable, and that would make it virtually impossible for Carter to plan effectively against how he might react. He had to find these humans.

He looked out over the bonnet of the jeep and saw the road disappear around a corner in the distance. It was still strange to drive on a highway completely devoid of any other traffic. There were abandoned wrecks every few feet where the wreckage of the old world had been pushed to the side at some time in the past and left abandoned. There were even a few desiccated corpses still behind the wheel of some of the vehicles just like a disaster movie he had seen from before the war.

Nero obviously wasn’t as interested in housekeeping as he was. He had ordered his forces to clear away the corpses and the abandoned vehicles so that they could travel quickly on the roads. Nero had left everything just as it had been when the war had ended. Or were the abandoned vehicles merely there to give that impression? God, he hated this.

As he looked at these husks he shuddered as he realised how fleeting and tenuous the rule of man had turned out to be. They had ruled the earth for so long and had even begun to stretch to the stars, and then, in the blink of an eye, it had all disappeared. It was a sobering thought. And one worth remembering before his own growing empire fell into the same rut and went the same way.

The cloud of dusk could be seen for miles, like the harbinger to a great storm. But this storm was not created by nature. Alfonso Corelli watched the dust roil upwards like the aftermath of a huge explosion as it began to paint the horizon in lurid colours. His heart began to beat faster. The sky was a beautiful clear blue but the air was freezing, causing his breath to form small plumes of mist each time he exhaled. The snows had gone for now but the temperature had not risen in weeks, and it seemed to Alfonso that he had not been warm since before the vampires had come. He was nineteen years old and seemed to belong to neither group within the community he had just run away from. He was too old to be a ‘Wolverine’ but still too young to be noticed by the adults.

He had only been ‘awake’, as they now called it when they were weaned off the serum, for six weeks or so. He had been in that last batch that Harris and his team had rescued before he had been thrown out, and he had never really gotten the opportunity to thank him. He, and many of the hundreds who had just been rescued, had still been too groggy from the serum to know what was going on, let alone help. They had woken into a community that was already fractured and reclusive.

The sudden influx of many hundreds of hungry and confused refugees had caused a deep resentment to fester. Those in the community resented their meagre supplies being shared further and those who had just arrived reacted to this hatred with a hatred of their own. Harris had become a focus for both sides, some blamed him for the problems and others considered him the solution to the problem. The committee wallowed ineffectively in the middle.

Alfonso still had a mother, father and a sister that were still missing. They had not been among the dead in the train but that did not mean that they were still alive. However, it did mean that there was still a chance that they could be prisoners of the thralls. It had been obvious that no one in the community was prepared to organise any more rescue parties. They promised to look into it, of course, but nothing was ever done. They had told him that they just didn’t have enough food or resources. There were many others among the community that demanded that they continue to send parties out. They needed closure if they were to move on. But the committee refused. It was easy to see that none of them had missing family members. Alfonso had seen the resentment grow in the community over the last few weeks, but no one was actually doing anything. They just complained and had meetings in secret where they grumbled and groaned. It was all so frustrating and Alfonso had done the only thing he could think of.

He had left the community three days ago. It had been easy enough, as security was not something they took as seriously as they should now that Harris was gone. He had been assigned a position in the fields where his youth and strength would be an asset in growing food and that gave him plenty of opportunity to slip away. He wondered briefly if they had even noticed that he was gone yet. They had hardly noticed him when he was there.

He had set out to find Peter Harris and join him and his group to help rescue others, and hopefully find his family. But it hadn’t turned out that way. He hadn’t found any sign of Harris and the others at all and he had searched everywhere in the city he could think of. Now, he was freezing and hungry. He had left with only the clothes he had on, and had been lucky to find a light jacket in an abandoned store along the way. It smelt a bit and the colour was awful but it was warm. He hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink since he had left and his stomach hurt. More worrying was the fact that he had begun to get dizzy in the last day or so. He really didn’t know what he should do.

He had left with little thought as to the reality of this new world. He had thought that he would find Harris and be welcomed with open arms, but the reality was much more frightening. He could actually die out here. But could he really go back? Would they even take him back? His youth and his burning desire to find his family had kept him going up till now but the nights were so cold that he had had to stay awake and keep walking just to keep warm.

He hadn’t slept for two whole days now and he could barely manage to put one foot in front of the other. He really wasn’t sure he could survive another night. He had wandered out past the city limits and had reached the summit of a large hill to the west of the city where he had hoped to see some sign of Harris and the others. At some level he had accepted that if he had not found some sign of them from here that he would have to head back to the community or risk dying of exposure. He had felt defeated as he reached the summit, and then he had seen the dust in the distance.

Now he was of two minds. Was this Harris and his men returning from another successful raid? But even as he thought that he knew that it couldn’t be - Harris was far too clever to let himself be seen from such a distance. That meant that it must be thralls. A lot of thralls judging from the size of the dust plume. They were coming from the west and that meant that they were Carter’s army. He might be only nineteen but he certainly wasn’t stupid; if Carter found out that Nero no longer ruled in this state, then it wouldn’t be long before the whole state would be crawling with thralls again.

He had to warn the others. He wondered how much good it would do, though; their policy of hide and hope the danger will go away just wouldn’t work this time. It would be better to warn Harris, of course. He’d realise the importance of turning back this force - but he couldn’t find him so he would have to go back to the community and hope that they could get word to Harris and the others.

He looked at the cloud again before he turned and saw that the dust had spread across the horizon like ink spreading through water, corrupting and tainting the pure blue of the sky, and he shivered. If they didn’t somehow manage to turn this tide back they would all be swept away. He had to convince the others that it was time to fight for their survival or risk losing everything.

Emma Logan nodded at Danny Wilkins as she took over the tail and kept her eyes on the back of the woman ahead of her. She saw Danny turn off down another corridor after the man she had been following and disappear among the people there. It was her task now to follow Patricia Lohan until she was relieved or until the woman either went to her room or her office.

There were too many committee members to follow each one every day so they had split them up into high, medium and low risk suspects based on Father Reilly’s evaluations. The high risk would be followed every day and they would swap over when they could to avoid someone getting suspicious. They had found walkie-talkies sometime ago but had soon grown tired of them after the initial excitement. Now, however, they had become invaluable in timing their swap-overs and keeping in touch. Danny was taking after his father and had switched the three sets of walkie-talkies they had to the same frequency, and now they could keep in contact over short distances. They were hard on batteries but they had some of the younger kids constantly searching old electronic shops for batteries. The adults had taken all the larger batteries some time ago but the smaller sizes that the talkies used were of no use to them, so they were covered for now.

They had been following their targets for two days now and nothing had happened out of the ordinary. Some of the younger ones were already growing bored but Emma knew the importance of this assignment and took it very seriously, though she did agree that this assignment was far from the exciting adventure they had all thought it would be.

Lohan continued on along the corridor, as she had for the last few days. If she kept to her routine, then she would reach her office where, if it was the same as yesterday and the day before, she would stay until lunch. Then she would go to the only eatery in the community where she would have a sandwich and water and return to the office. Lohan seemed to be a creature of habit who seemed to do and eat the same thing every day, almost to the minute. How could anyone be so boring, she thought as she followed the woman? God, she hadn’t even met anyone for an illicit kiss, let alone sneak out and contact the vampires. She would have to see if she could swap targets with one of the others or she was liable to walk up to this woman and tell her to get a life.

They came to the corridor where she would turn right and Emma kept her distance as Lohan drew level with her turn. But she didn’t turn. She kept going. Emma felt her heart begin to thump in her chest and increased her pace slightly in case the woman…suddenly there were more people in the corridor than before and she lost sight of Lohan in the rush. She tried to push through the sea of people approaching her as she strained to see past them. She felt panic grip her and cursed herself for being so lazy. She should have been closer. God, the one time something happens and she wasn’t ready for it.

Finally, she made it through the throng of people and stumbled out into a relatively clearer space. Her heart hammered in her chest and she uttered a curse out loud that caused more than one of the people around her to stare in shock at her. She ignored them as she broke into a run, snapping her head down side corridors as she searched frantically for her target.

Shit! Lohan had disappeared.

Kavanagh watched the humans from across the square. There were nearly seven hundred of them packed into a huge caged area that stood on the ruins of the homes and businesses that had once stood here. There were other pens, with just as many humans, but this was the only one that contained humans who were still obviously free from the serum’s effects.

He had watched over the last two days and had seen the humans go through shock and then despair. For some of them that was as far as they got and they still remained huddled in their own worlds, trapped now far more effectively than the serum had ever managed. But it was the others who interested him most.

For some in this pen the despair had turned to anger and they had spent some time throwing themselves futilely against their cages. The guards ignored them, or sometimes stopped their patrols to laugh or spit at their charges. They had not, however, noticed that a small number of humans had slowly reigned in those who shouted themselves hoarse. They did so quietly, taking these demented individuals to the side, calming them and then using their growing numbers to calm the others.

In the last day or so Kavanagh had not seen anyone shout or cry or throw themselves at their cages. Instead, the humans watched and noted how their guards patrolled, how long they stood and talked among themselves, and how cold it had to get for them to disappear into their barracks.

Kavanagh was amazed. He would never have noticed this change if he had not purposely been looking at this cage. The guards had noticed nothing and continued their patrols oblivious to the scheming eyes that watched their every move and noted every characteristic. He should report this, of course. But Kavanagh still did not know why this cage had been taken off the serum and did not want others to know of his knowledge. He did, however, know one thing for certain. Anything that was not part of Von Richelieu’s plan could only benefit his own strategies. It would suit him far better if he kept this interesting development to himself for now.

He had thought long and hard about this cage over the last two days. His time in prison had taught Kavanagh many things, but patience had been the hardest lesson of all. He had seen others go mad and become so violent that they had to be constantly restrained because they could not handle the hours of solitary confinement. He had entered prison for a relatively innocuous crime; he had made the mistake of agreeing to help rob a small local bank. ‘In and out,’ his friend, Carlos, had said. ‘Piece of cake,’ he had said. And it had been until the stupid guard had decided to become a hero and Carlos suddenly had a gun in his hand. Kavanagh still didn’t know where Carlos had gotten it, and then there had been a loud explosion and the guard and pitched forward and blood had quickly pooled around him.

By the time the guard had stopped twitching the sirens had begun blaring and they had run. He hadn’t considered himself a criminal before that day, sure he stood on the corners acting as muscle for the guys who sold drugs, but he had never used them himself. His size made him popular and the money was good. He had only agreed to the robbery because he needed extra money because his brother had borrowed money from someone he shouldn’t have. For the first time in his life his size had worked against him and he had been easily identified and arrested. He had kept quiet as to the identity of his friends and the judge had sent him away for ten years.

The early years had been hard; he had to constantly prove that he was as tough as he looked. He had survived being stabbed four times. It was so easy to be a target in prison, far too easy for anyone to walk past and stab a sharpened fork or tool into your guts before you knew what was happening.

Kavanagh had never killed anyone before he had gone to prison, but that had soon changed. There had been a number of different factions inside the prison and he had tried to ignore them all. That hadn’t worked though and he had found that, to survive, he would need to throw in with someone. After the third stabbing, he had finally realised that he would also have to make a statement that there would be consequences if he was attacked again or risk the next stabbing being fatal.

After he had recovered he had found the man who had stabbed him and broke both of his arms in plain view of everyone. Just to be sure his message was received; he had broken the man’s right arm at the elbow by smashing it over his knee and breaking the joint. The man would never use that arm again. Then he had calmly let the guards lead him to solitary.

When he had come out he had been stabbed again as soon as he had re-entered the main populace. He had felt the knife drive deep into his side and the pain fuelled his anger. He had lost control. He had not wanted to rob the bank, had not wanted to work for the gangs in prison, but his life had gone to shit a long time ago and it was time to put a stop to others taking advantage. All of his frustrations had exploded in that moment and he had reached over and wrenched the man’s neck all the way around so that he was looking behind him.

His rage had still been burning through him, though, and his fingers tingled with the urge to inflict pain. Someone should pay for all the pain he had endured. He saw another man look down at the dead assassin and his face went sheet white. The man looked at Kavanagh and Kavanagh saw the sharpened metal tool in his hand. They had sent two this time. The man began to run but Kavanagh had reached out with such speed that he caught the man before he had gone two steps. The man screamed in a high pitched yowl. Kavanagh could see the guards struggling through the throngs of prisoners toward him. The noise of the inmates rose as they packed around him, keeping the guards back. He didn’t have much time. He had to do something that would drive his message across.

He had tried to remain aloof. He had tried to serve his time quietly, but it wasn’t working. He had to make a statement and gain respect. He grabbed the struggling man and pulled him closer. Just as the first of the guards finally managed to push his way through the wall of prisoners, Kavanagh had taken the knife, still imbedded in his side, and wrenched it free. He shouted in pain and triumph and then ripped the sharp edge so viciously across the man’s neck that he had nearly severed the man’s head from his body.

The guards had quickly surrounded him. He could see the fear in their eyes and he had smiled. He dropped the dead assassin and the knife and he had calmly made his way back to solitary. He had received another fifteen years on his sentence but, when he had come out of solitary, he had never been attacked again. Since then, he had killed twelve more men who thought they could control him. Since that fateful day, though, none of the deaths had been laid at his door. By the time the vampires had come and offered the inmates the opportunity to join them he had already risen high in the ranks within the prison. When the vampires had made their pitch it was to him that the others looked before they answered.

Now, he was in a similar situation with Von Richelieu. The master vampire did not want him here. If he had been just muscle then he would have been welcomed, as indeed he had been initially. But Von Richelieu had soon discovered that he also had a brain and ambition, and that was something that threatened the master vampire. Kavanagh was no longer happy to bow to others. He had worked his way to the top in prison and intended to do the same here.

Von Richelieu was planning something with these humans that involved the serum. Kavanagh had noted that the humans who were taken from this cage for bloodletting were brought now to a different building than the others. Usually, he would have paid no mind to the process; he really didn’t care how his blood arrived. But after his last meeting with Von Richelieu, where he had lost his temper, he had begun to pay much closer attention to anything that might impact on him. He never lost his temper. It was his rule. Ever since that time in prison. He knew that there was no profit in losing control. It was always better to react after careful consideration, when your tracks could be covered.

He had waited and watched and he had seen that these humans were used to supply Von Richelieu and a few of his aides with blood, but everyone else was fed from the other cages. While this might not have been overly significant on its own, Kavanagh had become convinced that this explained why many of the vampires were becoming more and more aggressive. There had to be something in the serum.

Kavanagh had stopped drinking blood two days ago. He was starving, his stomach felt like someone had driven a knife deep into him, and his hands shook slightly. He felt very like he had when his body had first made the change to become a vampire, as if he was changing again. He had no idea what was going on but he did know that he could not drink the serum-tainted blood. But he did have to eat soon or he would die.

Von Richelieu was playing a game, but one which was deadly serious. However, he might just have underestimated the resilience of the humans, and Kavanagh would have to keep an eye on them and ensure that they had every opportunity to turn the tables on the master vampire. With a little encouragement he might just be able to make these humans work for him. He now had to convince his own followers to stop using the tainted blood He would also have to secure his own supply of clean blood.

And then he would see what he could do about Von Richelieu.

Chapter 15

Philip Warkowski lined up the approaching truck in the sights of his Barrett XM-109. The .50 calibre weapon could easily punch through the windscreen, even from this distance, but he left his finger outside the trigger guard. There were still a few minutes before the others would be in place.

They had had to change the plan to take account of April’s revelations. God, if they had gone ahead with the original plan those poor prisoners would have been driven directly into the radiation and died horrible deaths. Not to mention the fact that they would have had a full platoon of thralls coming right up behind them undetected. They would have been sitting ducks.

Now, though, they had had to adapt the plan and get into their new positions in a very short timeframe. They had considered putting off the attack, but it might be over a month before another convoy was put together and they couldn’t afford to wait that long. Luckily for them, travelling across country was far faster than travelling on the roads. The trucks had to travel a very long circular route to get to the main highway and the truck with the radioactive payload had to travel slowly. He scanned back toward the plant and could see two more trucks leaving with thralls and prisoners loaded into the back. They would catch up and pass the waste transport in fifteen minutes or so, he estimated.

Harris had decided to hit the prison transport after it had passed the waste transport and had travelled on for another two miles past the convoy. This would leave them within earshot of the nearest town but that couldn’t be helped. It was still dark and that would help. Dawn wasn’t too far away though and already a thin line of light, like molten gold poured between the distant mountains and the horizon, threw a faint glow over the landscape and chased the shadows across the fields. They had to split their forces to hit both transports at the same time so if anything delayed either ambush they could be in trouble with re-enforcements from Fort Wayne.

They hadn’t planned on rescuing anyone on this trip as they had such a long way to travel to get back home, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to move around undetected, let alone travelling with so many serum junkies. It would put them all in danger, but Harris had refused to leave the people behind. There was just too much chance of the radiation spreading on the wind, and leaving them behind would be a death sentence.

Warkowski was practical enough to realise that every war resulted in civilian deaths but he knew that Harris hadn’t become hardened to that fact as yet. Warkowski was no leader but he had served under enough commanders and had been in enough wars to know that Harris would never become the leader they all needed him to be until he could divorce himself from the very humanity that gave him his strength.

There was no place for uncertainty in war, not if you wanted to win. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, but Warkowski knew that Harris wasn’t there yet. He wondered briefly if Harris would get to that point before he died. It was ironic that Harris would have to lose, or suppress, that which defined him before he could become the leader they all needed him to be. Warkowski thought briefly of his wife, Sarah, and his daughter, Jill. Would he ever see them again? He made a point of telling them everyday that he loved them so that, one day, if he didn’t come back, they would know how deeply he cared for them. He hoped that they would find some comfort in that.

There was no way he could have let Harris leave the community without going with him, and he knew that Sarah understood. She might not agree with him, and she had made her views very clear about that as they had settled into their new home in the Cave. But she also accepted that her husband would not be able to live with himself until he had paid in full the debt he felt he owed Peter Harris. Warkowski did not give his loyalty easily, but when he did you might as well try to stop a speeding truck than try to stop him. He smiled wryly as he thought of his family, and then he checked his watch again.

Ten minutes.

Dust hung heavily in the stagnant air as the transport continued its approach. From this distance it looked as though the vehicle wasn’t moving at all. For a moment its lights even appeared to be hovering higher than was normal between the road and the horizon. A blizzard of dust surrounded it, caught in the glare of the lights from the vehicles behind, and billowed behind like a huge wake marking its passing. The road’s surface was not used so much anymore and nature had a way of reclaiming that which had encroached upon her and, already, Denis Jackson could see that the road was already covered in a thick layer of dust.

He had thought Harris mad to attempt to attack both convoys at the same time, especially with them being so close to the local garrison, but he now realised that they could have attacked the convoy a few meters outside the garrison and still not be seen with this amount of dust. Of course, the cover that the dust would afford them would also lead to its own set of problems. There could be no co-ordination, no possibility of reacting to anything that didn’t go to plan. They would have to operate in total isolation to each other and hope that everything went like clockwork - which, of course, it wouldn’t.

Jackson settled himself behind his cover and checked, yet again, that the explosive charge was connected to the detonator. Harris had told him that they had learned over the last two years that radio detonators, lit fuses and even electronic pulses were all prone to failure at the most inopportune time and now, almost always, used wired connectors into a handheld detonator. It did mean that whoever set off the charges had to be closer than anyone would like, but it also meant that the charge would go off exactly when they needed it to. It was Jackson’s turn today and his hands were slick with sweat as he constantly passed the detonator from hand to hand as the truck and its cloak of dust slowly approached.

He could just make out the outline of a much smaller vehicle in front of the transport and a slightly larger truck just behind, but it was difficult to be sure in the gloom. Both vehicles were dwarfed by the huge transport whose headlamps speared through the darkness like a lighthouse and nearly blinded him when the glare passed over his position. He imagined the truck’s squat, deadly cargo on the container behind those lights and, for a moment, it seemed that the truck had taken on the appearance of a deadly dragon with large, luminous eyes. He shook his head to clear the image and concentrated again on the vehicles’ positions. When the convoy had set off from the plant the truck carrying the thralls had travelled behind the transport, but the dust had obviously proved too heavy for the truck and they now travelled out in front.

This suited Jackson as it meant that he could take out the transport’s protection with one blow, if he timed it right. He hadn’t believed Harris when he had said that both guard vehicles would end up in front. He hadn’t even noticed the dust on the road if he was honest, let alone factored it into the plan. It was just as well Harris had or their plan would already have become unworkable. He sighed as he passed the detonator from hand to hand.

He had worried that with Steele’s death Harris might struggle. Harris had always had either Steele or Sherman to sanity-check his plans, and they had made the tweaks that were necessary to turn a daring, and sometimes quite dangerous, plan into one which was survivable. Of late, there had been a few close calls as Harris had struggled to adapt and had made numerous mistakes. He was finding it hard not to have someone with experience to walk through the plan with him. The last ambush had been very close and Jackson had worried that Harris had been too shaken after their close call to plan something so big so soon.

The thralls were better trained than before and they were expecting trouble now. It was no longer a case of hitting soft targets. The rules had changed and Harris would have to step up to the plate or they would all die. Jackson had read somewhere that throughout history battles had been won by commanders who had stood tall and given clear and confident orders. Those orders might not always have been the best, tactically, but their conviction and strength had infused their men with confidence and that, more often than not, had won the day. Harris’ plans may not have always been the most strategically sound, but he had always had an abundance of confidence that had bolstered those he led. Of late, though, he seemed to have lost some of that confidence.

Harris had remained far more aloof than usual on this trip and he had poured over his notes of the plan incessantly on the way here, as if he himself did not trust the plan, and this had made everyone else nervous. Denis knew that Harris was the glue that held them all together; his humanity and drive had given them all strength in the last two years. The betrayal of the community and the setbacks of the last few raids had shaken their confidence though. Added to all of that, the second convoy was a curve ball no one had expected and Harris’s plan had had to change drastically to accommodate it.

Jackson had no idea whether this new plan was a good one or not. It seemed a little desperate to him, but he really wasn’t qualified to judge. Having said that though, Harris wasn’t exactly qualified either. To the man’s credit, though, at least he was prepared to stand up and put a plan together. None of the others, himself included, were prepared to come up with anything remotely resembling a strategy.

One thing that had given Jackson hope was that Harris had taken the new development in his stride and had laid out the changes to the plan confidently. Having to plan under pressure did not allow Harris the time to second guess himself, and he could see that Harris himself seemed more animated than he had been for quite some time. He just hoped that, this time, things went well. Harris could certainly do with the boost. And it wouldn’t harm the confidence of those who followed him either.

The plan worked perfectly, right up to the point where the first explosion shattered the morning air. After that it went to shit. Jackson had meant to set the charges off just as the lead jeep passed so that the blast would take out both the jeep and the closely following truck at the same time and leave the transport unprotected. Unfortunately things hadn’t gone at all to plan. The distance between the two vehicles had lengthened when the thrall driving the truck had missed a gear a few minutes before and, rather than shifting down to regain the lost speed, he had instead pushed his foot further on the accelerator in too high a gear. The truck shuddered as it struggled to regain speed and the truck had dropped back.

Once the thrall driver had fallen back a short distance the dust from the lead jeep had immediately covered the truck’s windshield and the driver of the truck had pulled out of the slipstream of the jeep and onto the far side of the road so that he could see where he was going until he regained his position behind the jeep in the relatively clear air.

All Jackson could see of the convoy was the lead jeep and the mass of dust that followed it. He couldn’t see any detail of what came behind the jeep but he had timed their positions when they had been observing the convoy from his elevated position earlier. He saw the truck shoot past him, counted to three, and pressed the detonator. The charges had been set into the road itself and when they blew great chunks of the road shot up and outwards with the force of the explosion. The jeep lost its back wheels and the vehicle swerved to the side and tumbled over, flipping three or four times as metal and flesh tore and ripped with equal abandon before the gutted wreck finally came to rest on its side far out on the right side of the scrub surrounding the road.

The driver of the truck carrying the thrall guards slammed his foot on the break as soon as he saw the explosion and pulled the wheel to his left. The tyres struggled for grip on the dust and locked up as the thrall, panicking with the unexpected explosion, left his foot hard on the breaks. The truck was far heavier in the back than the front and the vehicle skidded with the back end coming forward. The tyres skipped over the dust as if it was ice and the truck continued out over onto the grass to the side of the road. Here the tyres bit deeply into the dry earth and the truck began to lose speed rapidly.

The driver of the transport hadn’t seen anything of the explosion. He had leaned down to his feet moments before to relieve the pressure of his combat boots. They weren’t his boots but his had been filled with vomit this morning when he had gone to put them on so he had had to borrow another pair and these were too small. Someone would pay dearly when he found out who the joker was who had soiled his boots and his mind was on revenge as he leaned down and tried to keep the tight laces away from his instep.

He heard an incredibly loud explosion and snapped his head up, striking it against the side of the steering wheel in his haste. He howled a curse as he brought one of his hands to his throbbing head. By the time he had straightened up to look at what had caused the explosion, the transport had already shot over the gaping hole torn into the road by the explosion. The vehicle suddenly slumped down on one side as the left tyre crunched into the jagged hole. The tyre blew and the thrall pumped the brakes.

Unfortunately, his practised pumping on the break caused the boots to constrict around his injured instep and agony shot up his leg. He lifted his foot momentarily and then, realising what he was doing, he stamped it back down again with far too much force. He had been driving one-handed at this point as his left hand was still massaging his injured head and the violent pull of the blown tyre wrenched the wheel from his grasp. He shot his hand back to the wheel but the transport was already too far gone. The vehicle shuddered and then the wheels locked. The driver might still have been able to bring the transport under control if the left tyre had still been whole but the blowout had shredded it down to the metal of the wheel and sparks flew as the bed of the truck went to the left and the heavy stone of its cargo carried the bed of the transport past the cab as the vehicle jack-knifed.

Jackson couldn’t tell what was happening in the cacophony of noise that surrounded him. The light of dawn was already beginning to chase the darkness away but dust swirled everywhere and blinded him completely. He was pretty sure that the transport had crashed, and they hadn’t wanted that. If the stone container cracked before they were ready then they would all die slowly from radiation poisoning. The rest of his team, Ricks and the Franklin siblings, were crouched behind cover just behind him. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. He knew that he had to take out the truck while the thralls were still bundled together in one place or they would spread out and overpower them. He screamed for the others to follow him and then he disappeared into the dust.

Ricks lifted his head and slapped Benjamin on the shoulder.

“Come one, that’s the signal!” he shouted and rose immediately and ran toward the road. He had a bandanna covering his mouth and nose but his eyes were streaming. No one had realised when they had set off that there would be so much dust on the road, so no one had thought to bring goggles. Grit and dust washed over him as he struggled to make out the scene before him. From where he had been hidden he could not see the road so he did not know what had happened, but, judging by the level of noise from screeching breaks and tearing metal, the plan hadn’t gone exactly as they had planned. What should have been a relatively simple mopping up exercise was far from that, he began to realise.

Already the sun had risen just over the horizon and light began to flood toward them, but it was still difficult to make out anything clearly with the dust hanging in the air. As he approached the road he could see that the transport wasn’t on the road where it should have been; it had either driven through the ambush or it had gone off the road. Either way that wasn’t good. He squinted through the dust that was finally beginning to settle now that there were no vehicles moving but he still couldn’t see anything clearly. Shit! What was he supposed to do now?

He heard a slide of metal just in front of him and he dropped to the ground without thinking just before bullets tore through the air above him. He brought his own weapon forward and shot blindly back in the general direction of where the bullets had come from. Another weapon began to chatter and then another and he rolled away from his position back toward where he had come from. Something had gone wrong and the thrall guards from the truck obviously weren’t dead. He continued to roll frantically away from the fire and, suddenly, he slammed into a pair of legs coming toward him. The figure fell over with a yelp and he felt someone land heavily on top of him. Bullets stitched the air where the figure had stood only moments before and, unknown to both of them; he had just saved Delilah’s life.

Benjamin saw his sister suddenly disappear from in front of him, but before he could react, he felt a searing pain in his shoulder as a bullet ripped into his flesh. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground where he landed painfully on the wound. He tried to raise his own weapon but his hand was numb and it wouldn’t obey his command.

He tried to change hands but the strap of the weapon was caught under him and he couldn’t get any leverage to move. His head began to swim as darkness threatened to pull him down. He could see the dust settling and there were three darker figures beginning to make their way toward him. He tried to move again but the movement grated against his wound and the pain swamped him before he lost consciousness.

Harris heard the explosion in the distance as he waited for the second convoy to reach him. They had taken a lot longer than he had expected, based on the speed they had been doing. They must have slowed down for some reason since passing the transport and that meant that they were now out of position. If he had heard the explosion then…

The lead jeep began to slow and Harris cursed as he saw the convoy come to a halt a few hundred yards from the ambush point. These thralls were far more cautious than the ones they had faced previously and it was really beginning to piss him off that they were not falling blindly into his traps. If Steele had been here he would probably have insisted on a backup plan, but Harris had been so sure that his timing was right. For a moment he froze. The thrall sitting in the back of the jeep pulled himself out of the vehicle and began to walk back toward the first truck, shouting orders as he went. Thralls suddenly spilled out from the back of the truck and the soldiers took up positions around the convoy.

Shit, Harris cursed, these guys really aren’t taking any chances. Harris’ mind went blank suddenly and his hands grew damp. What do I do? All of his recent failures flooded through his mind. I am so out of my depth. He had taken a number of blows to his confidence of late and doubt nagged at him constantly. He needed someone to bounce ideas off, someone with a cooler head who understood what it meant to wage war. It had been so easy at first. No one had died in the beginning, except for vampires and thralls. And then, even when one of their group had died, there had been others there who had helped shoulder the guilt, others who had been involved in putting the plan together. But more of his friends had died in the last few months than were left in his small group, and each of their deaths were on his shoulders alone. No one else had shared the plan; no one else shared the blame. It was all becoming too much.

He had tried hard to shut out the guilt, but every time a plan went awry the reality of their position flooded back over him. What right did he have to lead these people? They followed him because they trusted him, believed in him. But it was all a lie. He wasn’t a leader. Not when things kept going wrong. He didn’t have the strength to push his failures aside and move forward. He was plagued with doubt, and his plans, he could see now, reeked of conservatism and inexperience. He hadn’t put a backup plan in place because he had wanted his people out of sight well before the convoy appeared. There had been time, he now realised, to place some of the charges further back along the road just in case – but he hadn’t done it. And now they might all die because of him.

He heard shouting from the road and he shook himself from his thoughts. The dust had settled quickly and two of the thralls had come almost level with his position while he had been lost in thought. They had found the explosives and were already shouting a warning back to the rest of the convoy. Engines roared as the vehicles began to back away. They were really buggered if the convoy made their way back to the transport before the others were ready. If that happened, even more deaths would be on his shoulders.

Without thinking, Harris rose from behind his cover and took out the two thralls nearest him with two three-shot bursts. The thralls dropped immediately to the ground and remained still. The noise of the shots was drowned out by the roaring engines but the thrall commander saw his men fall and, suddenly, the air was thick with bullets and Harris was forced to dive for cover.

Sandra Harrington cursed as she saw the thralls stop short of the explosives. Harris had assigned the majority of the group to this assignment, but, as there was so little cover close to the road, they had been forced to deploy some distance away from the now stationary convoy. Sandra was almost a hundred yards from the road and the settling dust and the glare from the sun made it difficult to make out anything clearly.

All she knew for certain was that the convoy had stopped. She too had heard the explosion in the distance, but the distant thump hadn’t seemed loud enough for the thralls to hear over the roar of the engines. But, whatever the reason, the thralls had stopped and they were too far from the ambush to set off the explosives. This presented another problem. If they just waited to see what developed and the thralls did discover the trap then it would be too late at that point to circle behind them and cut off their retreat.

Sandra looked around at the others she could see. April crouched beside her behind a low mound that, at one time, must have been excavated earth where workmen before the war, maybe even before the energy crisis, had begun to widen the road. Quite a lot of earth had been bulldozed into small piles that ran parallel to the road for some miles, but the exercise had long been abandoned and the earth had packed hard under the sun’s relentless glare over the last few years.

The mounds offered great cover for them but they were too far from the road for them to use them for any attack. Joshua Perkins crouched behind another mound a hundred yards further back and Carlos Mendez and Al Warnback were positioned on the far side of the road in the light cover afforded by the wild grass that still dotted that side of the road. On the far side of the road there was a steep incline, again too far to be of use to them from the road. The hill did afford the grass there some shade and that area was thriving with lush growth.

Of them all, Sandra could only trust Carlos to react to this new situation. The others took orders well but had no idea how to react to a fluid situation. She sighed. She would begin to make her way south and try and move past the convoy and cut them off from behind. She could pick up Joshua as she made her way back but they would be easily overrun if Carlos and Al didn’t pull back also and add their strength to the attack. Warkowski had positioned himself high above the road with his rifle, but even with his skill, he wouldn’t be able to turn the tide against the number of thralls in this convoy.

She tapped April on the shoulder and signed for her to follow and to keep low. The young girl slipped her weapon forward, checked the slide and nodded her understanding. Sandra moved out. There was something very sad about seeing such a young girl handle such a weapon with that level of skill. Where had her childhood gone? She wondered briefly where it would all end.

The sudden shout followed by the quick three-shot bursts sent her plan the same way as the world. She had only managed to barely reach Joshua’s position when the thralls spotted her and began to spill from the middle truck firing as they ran to cover. Their fire wasn’t accurate at this distance but the sheer volume was enough to pin them where they were. There was no cover at all from where they were for at least another two hundred yards and there was no way they could get to where she needed to be with the thralls lined along both sides of the road.

The rear truck began to reverse and roll back off the road while the driver struggled with the poor grip in the undergrowth. Her heart thumped in her chest. If this patrol made it back to the others, then they wouldn’t stand a chance. She had already made her decision to come back to the rear of the convoy, but in so doing, she suddenly realised that she had left Harris on his own further down the road. Four thralls suddenly split from those lining the roadside and began to make their way carefully toward the head of the convoy where Harris was. Their progress was slowed as Harris sent numerous well-aimed bursts toward them, but, already she could see that they were splitting up and approaching his position from different directions. It wouldn’t be long before they outflanked him.

These thralls were far better trained than any others they had faced before. She was already too far away to help Harris. Besides, it was becoming increasingly difficult to make out any detail as the vehicles had begun to turn around and their frantic manoeuvres were throwing plumes of dust into the air. The other thralls continued to scan the area on both sides of the road as they protected the vehicles. The choking dust would also affect the thralls’ vision of the surrounding area, but the trucks would be turned and ready to go in the next few seconds. Once that happened, they would escape back toward the other convoy and all would be lost.

Suddenly she heard a deep boom from behind her position. The rear truck’s windshield shattered and the driver slumped over the wheel. Sandra had been hoping for a break, and Warkowski’s shot set in motion a number of freak occurrences that, for once, played into their hands.

The dead driver’s foot stayed on the accelerator and the truck continued to crawl forward. His body pulled against the wheel and the truck moved to the left toward the thralls guarding the road instead of away from them. The truck wasn’t going fast but it did move relentlessly forward and forced the thralls to shift their positions to avoid the moving vehicle. A sudden eruption of fire from behind the thralls on the other side of the road caused them to lose their composure as all eyes shifted suddenly toward where the gunfire originated.

Sandra didn’t stop to think about the hundred yards that separated her from the thralls. She grinned as she heard Joshua mutter “Crazy bitch,” and then she was up and running toward the trucks. She didn’t worry that the other two would follow; they all knew that each of them had to watch the others’ backs. She felt exhilarated, her heart pounding in her chest as she ran blindly toward the thralls. The dust obscured most of the road but she could still see vague shapes moving about as thralls shifted positions to avoid the errant truck.

She was very exposed where she was, but she prayed that the thralls didn’t look in her direction for just another few moments. Even with the dust cover they couldn’t fail to see her running toward them. She suppressed the urge to fire; any bullets that she fired while running might as well be ejected unfired for all the good they would do anyway. Carlos and Al were still keeping the thralls busy on the other side but there were only two of them and there were a lot of thralls.

The truck finally came to a shuddering halt and the engine coughed and died. The thralls, seeing that their companions had things covered on the far side of the road, turned their attention back toward her. She was still too far away to see clearly through the dust but she dropped to one knee immediately and began to pour carefully spaced fire toward those shapes she could see. She hit the first thrall in the chest and he was flung back out of sight. The second moved quickly and she only managed to wing him before he rolled away and disappeared into the gloom. The first thrall she had hit had already pulled himself back to his feet and was bringing his weapon to bear on her again. The buggers were really hard to kill with their vampire-enhanced healing and they really had to be hit hard if you wanted them out of the fight.

She heard another deep boom and the thrall she had hit slumped to the ground and remained still this time. They might have an incredible healing factor but when Warkowski hit them with a .50 calibre bullet there really wasn’t a lot left to work with. Sandra’s weapon clicked empty and she calmly ejected it and pulled another clip from the bag at her waist. Bullets slammed into the ground around her but she ignored them. There was no cover anyway and moving about would only make her easier to see so she continued loading.

She was too busy to look at the colour strip they always applied to the clips to mark which contained normal and which contained the coated bullets and slammed the first clip she found home. Her first shot hit one of the thralls and he spun back as the bullet slammed into his shoulder.

Even through the gloom she could see the thrall recover quickly and he turned back in her direction. He took a moment to line up his sights and then began to pump fire toward her. Sandra saw the line of bullets stitch across the dry earth as the bullets sought her out. Her mind shouted at her to move but the approaching bullets were moving too quickly. She tensed as she prepared for the impact when the barrage suddenly swerved violently and split the air far to her left. She looked toward the thrall and saw that he had stopped firing. In fact, the thrall was shrieking in agony and seemed to be tearing at the point where her previous bullet had struck him. She watched the thrall throw down his weapon and tear at his clothes as if they were on fire.

She must have loaded the wrong clip, she realised, as the thrall tore at himself and thrashed about in agony. Pat Smyth’s ‘magic bullets’ were too scarce to use on thralls, especially now that they were no longer part of the community. They just didn’t have the resources to make them in the quantities they required. Besides, the thralls did die with normal bullets, it just took a few more rounds, so they tended to use high velocity rounds and hope that they hit them often enough to keep them down.

Harris had reported that when he had used the bullets on a raid two months ago that the thralls had taken far fewer rounds to take out, but he had said nothing about such an extreme reaction. Maybe his shots had been more accurate than hers and he had killed them outright. Smyth’s bullets were coated with a liquid that was deadly to the vampires, but each one had to be coated individually and they never had enough of them. They had decided long ago to keep as many as possible stockpiled in case the vampires ever found them.

Their experience in the Cave had brought home to them just how many rounds were needed to fight off a concerted vampire attack. She wasn’t sure if these thralls were wearing armoured jackets or not, but either way, she’d have to be more accurate if they wanted to survive the day.

Joshua and April finally caught up with her and added their firepower to hers, but Sandra’s attention was still on the thrall she had hit. The thrall had fallen to the ground at this point and his screams were audible even over the thunder of the surrounding gunfire and the roaring of the trucks. She was mesmerised. Bullets still flew around her but now even some of the thralls had noticed something wasn’t right and had stopped firing as they looked to their colleague to see what had caused such an extreme reaction.

Sandra shook herself and sent another three-round burst toward the thralls, striking one of them in the leg. The thrall ignored the wound and continued to fire and Sandra was forced to dive to her left as bullets whizzed past her. It only took about a minute, though, before he too began to scream and thrash about as he tore at his wound. By this time the first thrall had stopped struggling and lay in a contorted heap on the ground. The screams from the second thrall began to unnerve the other thralls and their rate of fire began to dwindle.

The occasional deep boom followed by another thrall pitching forward dead, along with the crossfire from Carlos and Al on the other side of the road finally began to take its toll on the thralls. With no cover, and with their numbers dwindling alarmingly, the thralls began to panic. The commander tried to rally his men, but another deep boom from above took his head from his shoulders, and the thralls were isolated and vulnerable. When another of their colleagues fell to what looked like a minor wound and began to tear at his own flesh as if trying to rip something from the wound, they finally broke and threw down their weapons and surrendered.

Chapter 16

Ricks rolled away from Delilah as bullets slammed into the ground around them. He heard her grunt in pain but there was no time to check on her. He rolled into a crouch and returned fire into the swirling dust, spraying blindly and hoping that he would hit at least one of his assailants. The fire coming from the dust didn’t seem to slacken at all, though, and Ricks suddenly found that his XM8 was empty.

Shit! In his panic he had made a basic mistake and kept his finger on the trigger instead of firing in three-round bursts as he had been trained. He cursed himself for being so stupid and groped for another clip as he saw figures begin to emerge from the dust as if they were suddenly materialising from nowhere.

He was caught. The thralls emerged from the dust too quickly and saw him almost immediately. Nature seemed to conspire against him and a sudden gust of wind cleared the dust away and left him completely exposed and vulnerable. Ricks was still loading when the first of the bullets slammed into him and he fell back as darkness rushed around him and sucked him down.

Delilah felt pain burst up her shoulder as she slammed into the ground. Something had crashed into her and her feet had been taken from under her. She was vaguely aware that someone was struggling to disentangle themselves from her, and then her head grazed a rock on the ground and she slumped forward. She was still conscious and could hear the howl of the wind around her but she couldn’t move. Panic gripped her as she thought she might be paralysed. She cried out in fear and frustration as bullets tore through the air around her but she couldn’t do anything and merely lay helpless in the middle of the fire fight.

She had never been in a real battle before and the sheer volume of the machine guns booming around her was terrifying. The noises seemed to come from everywhere at once and the cacophony seemed to physically assault her. Her head still ached from where it had struck the rock and her stomach heaved with nausea as she struggled to focus. She was desperate to move, to somehow get to safety away from the madness of the dust-obscured battlefield, but her body was still sluggish to respond.

A sustained burst of fire suddenly erupted to her left and the noise sent a painful throbbing through her skull. Strangely, at one level, her mind recognised the high-pitched, phut noise of the XM8 machine gun. She had trained relentlessly with the weapon herself and its distinctive noise was almost comforting in the mayhem around her. Her mind continued to analyse everything around her as her body struggled to recover.

If the XM8 was to her left then that would be Ricks, she realised, so it must have been him who had crashed into her. She lay there frantically trying to get her body to move while her mind continued to analyse the sounds around her. She noted that the rate of fire was far too long and she heard Harris’s voice in her mind as he reminded her to fire three-round bursts just before the noise suddenly stopped and the weapon ran out of ammunition.

Fire erupted to her right now and she heard a cry to her left as someone was hit. Shit, that would be Ricks, she realised. She had to move, to help, anything but remain helpless here. It felt as though her body was moving through glue at first, but, finally, she managed to roll over on to her back and had to suppress a sudden gasp of shock as she saw three thralls loom above her. They hadn’t seen her as they had passed because their attention was directed toward where the cry had come from. She had been so still they had probably thought her dead.

The thralls continued forward and one of them raised his weapon as he seemed to see something. Delilah snapped her head toward where the thrall pointed his weapon and saw her brother try to raise himself before slumping forward. The thrall steadied his weapon and prepared to fire and Delilah suddenly screamed. The scream attracted all three of the thralls’ attentions and they snapped their heads toward her. The scream had also galvanised her own body as adrenaline surged through her and she brought up her XM8 and began to pump the trigger in perfect three-round bursts as she swept the weapon from target to target. Delilah was still screaming long after the thralls had fallen to the ground and she lay heaving for breath as her brain began to catch up on events.

She had done it. All three thralls were slumped on the ground and none of them moved. She felt her body tremble as the adrenaline began to wear off and she felt suddenly cold. It was some time later that she was finally able to pull herself to her feet. When she did, she crossed first to check each thrall to make sure they were dead as she had been trained to do, and only then did she allow herself to check on Ben and Ricks.

Denis Jackson awoke to a splitting headache. He tried to open his eyes but the pain increased so he lay for a second as he tried to gather his thoughts. Everything was so quiet Was he dead? No, he was in far too much pain for that. Maybe the battle was over. The question now was: who had won?

He remembered running into the dust and firing at anything that moved. He thought he had seen a figure stumble and fall but then something had hit his head with such force that he hadn’t even felt any pain. He had felt the impact sure enough but he had no memory past that. And then the next thing he knew he had woken up with this blinding headache.

“It’s all right, you’re safe.” He heard the words as if they had been spoken from far away and then felt a something damp press against his forehead before he passed out again.

Delilah saw Jackson’s body relax as he passed out again. A bullet had creased the side of his head and had torn a deep furrow along his skull. She had cleaned the wound and tied some gauze tightly around it, but it was still seeping blood at an alarming rate and she didn’t really know what else to do. She looked down at her brother. She had pulled him over beside Jackson once she had checked that they were all alive. She tried to smile but she was just too tired.

Ben had taken a bullet to the shoulder. She had strapped up the wound as well but the bullet was still lodged somewhere in his shoulder and he was in a lot of pain despite his best efforts to smile at her. They would have to get that bullet out or the wound would become septic, but she had no idea how to do that. Warkowski’s wife was the closest thing they had to a nurse but she was back at the Cave. It would be a long trip back, longer still with the wounded, and she wasn’t sure how long they had before infection would set in.

She was most worried about Ricks, though. She was fairly certain that Jackson and Ben would be fine until they got back but Ricks was barely alive. Two bullets had struck him in the chest, one high on the left side that had torn through him and taken a chunk of flesh with it as it had exited just under his shoulder blade. The other one had gone in just under his rib on the right side and had torn through and excited messily just under his shoulder. She was no doctor but the wound was seeping blood rather than spurting so she hoped that that was a good sign. Another bullet had taken a chunk out of his thigh, but it was the amount of blood he was losing that worried her most.

The boy was sheet white and already looked like one of those zombies she had seen in the movies before the vampires had come and turned Hollywood into reality. She had bandaged him up as best she could, tying the wounds tightly to prevent further blood loss. She knew she would have to loosen the bandages to allow the blood to flow at some stage but she wasn’t sure exactly when. She would have to listen more carefully next time she was given first aid training. She had given Ricks some morphine so his thrashing didn’t reopen the wounds, but their field dressings were used up now and she had no idea where the others were or how their mission had gone. Was she the only one left not wounded? Her head still throbbed but she was fine other than that.

Now that the trucks were still once more, she could see the road and the vehicles of the convoy they had targeted. The jeep lay out past the road in a ruined heap. She could see a number of bodies laying on the ground around the wreck in such contorted positions that she hadn’t bothered to check that they were dead – some things could be assumed she had decided. The truck that had held the thrall guards lay on its side just off the road, the driver lay slumped at the wheel and two more thralls lay beside the wreck with enough bullet holes in them to kill an elephant. It looked like Jackson had taken a few out before they got him. She raised a small smile as she looked down at Denis Jackson.

She hadn’t realised that she had such deep feelings for the man until she had seen his still body and all that blood. Sure, she had flirted with him - there really hadn’t been that many eligible men in the community after all. There were even fewer in their new group. He was quite a bit older than she was and neither of them had really analysed what, if anything, might be between them. It was a new world, she realised with a shudder, and there just wasn’t time to waste when somebody you cared about could die at any time. He eyes lingered over his sleeping form for another minute and then she looked back toward the road.

The transport lay on its side and three more thralls lay crushed beneath its vast bulk. They had lucked out there, she realised. There was no way they could have taken out three more thralls. When she had seen the transport on its side her first thought had been that its dangerous cargo might be cracked and was already leaking deadly radiation into the air. She had agonised over whether she should try to move the wounded and risk doing them more damage or stay where they were and hope that the radiation didn’t kill them all. But, she soon realised, it was already too late if it was leaking. She had decided to stay put.

She felt uncomfortable around such an invisible, deadly killer. She still had reservations about this plan. Playing with radiation was just too dangerous, but she could see that it might just give them the respite they needed. She saw a swirl of dust on the horizon and pursed her lips. Either this was Harris and the others, or it was the thralls from the first convoy and her friends were already dead. There was no way she could move the wounded and no way in hell she was leaving them. She shrugged and rose to her feet to greet the vehicle. She dipped into her pocket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes and lit one. There weren’t many of these left, she thought with a sigh as she savoured the smoke and then walked back along the road toward the approaching vehicle.

Chapter 17

“But where did she go?” Danny Wilkins piped in his high voice.

“I don’t know,” Emma barked with more anger than she had intended. She still felt very conscious of the fact that it had been her that had lost Lohan and not one of the younger members of the team. She was meant to be better than that, damn it. “I looked away for a second and then she was just gone. I looked everywhere but the corridor was just too crowded.”

“Do you think she knew you were following her?” Father Reilly asked calmly as he sipped on a cup of hot water laced with mint. They had run out of proper tea and coffee a long time ago but they were able to grow mint easily enough and the drink had become quite popular among the community. It was just a shame it didn’t pack the same bite the other drinks had.

“I don’t think so,” Emma replied quickly and then sighed. “I don’t know, to be honest. If she knew I was there she never gave any sign of it. I had just taken over from Danny so it wasn’t as if I had been behind her for ages or anything.”

“What happened then?” Father Reilly pressed as he moved the hot cup in his hands.

“We looked everywhere,” Danny jumped in, taking up the story. “Once Emma put out the call on the talkies we all dropped our charges and converged on that area.”

“All of you dropped your assigned targets?” Father Reilly raised his voice in alarm for the first time and the children suddenly dropped their eyes to the floor as they suddenly realised what they had done.

“Well,” Emma spoke up sheepishly, determined to stand up for her team. “We thought that, like, with Lohan disappearing and all, that she must be the one who…”

“Yes, well now we’ll never know, will we?” Father Reilly sighed as he put his drink on the table beside him. He had barely touched its contents and steam rose like a coiling snake in the small room. He spread his hands out and all of the children turned their attention toward him. “This is my fault, really,” he began as he looked at each of the children in turn. “Maybe I overestimated your ability to…”

“That’s not fair,” Emma interrupted and stared at the priest with an icy glare. “I made the mistake and I made the decision to converge on Lohan’s last position. Blame me if you want, not them. They don’t deserve it.”

Father Reilly stared hard at Emma for a few seconds and the silence in the room was almost palpable, but she did not give an inch and the priest suddenly nodded. “Good,” he smiled suddenly. Dropping the surveillance on the other targets had only exacerbated the error of losing Lohan. Now they had no information on any of the targets for a whole chunk of time, rather than just losing Lohan. However, the children had performed admirably up until then and he was particularly pleased with Emma’s ability to lead and protect her small band of adventurers. He could teach them how to improve their skills in surveillance but he couldn’t teach them loyalty.

“Okay, we may have lost a day, but we can pick up from now. Do not,” he paused as he intentionally caught the eye of each child as he pressed home his point, “think that you have found our traitor. We are playing for very large stakes here and I will not tolerate anyone assuming guilt based on flimsy evidence. We do not know if Ms. Lohan intentionally lost her tail or even whether she knew she was being followed at all.”

“But she didn’t go straight to work as usual,” Danny piped up again. “In fact, she was thirty minutes late. That’s very suspicious in my book.

Father Reilly paused as he considered Danny’s statement. “Yes, it is suspicious,” he agreed as he turned to Danny and fixed him with a cold stare. “However, this is a very serious business. We are talking about someone who is intentionally leaking information to the vampires about us. When we find this person, we will deal with them very severely. I will not, however, jump to any conclusions - and neither will any of you.” He paused again as he let that sink in. “Besides, she could have merely been secretive because she was meeting someone she did not want anyone else to know about.”

“But why would she want to…” Danny began and then saw the looks the others gave him and suddenly realised what they were thinking. He went red. “Oh, you mean…”

Father Reilly’s face crinkled into a smile at the young boy’s embarrassment. “Not all of us are necessarily comfortable with everyone knowing our business. Ms. Lohan is within her rights to keep her private life to herself - as long as it does not impact on this community.” He stood and smiled at them. “You are doing a very important and dangerous job here, but remember, we must be certain. Pick up your targets again and continue as before. We must find who is behind this and soon. But, most of all, please be careful.”

Alfonso Corelli slumped back in his chair, exhausted. Voices swept around him, some calm and reasoned and others high-pitched and nervous. None carried the surety or the confidence of a leader though and he despaired. He had arrived back in the community over an hour ago and had spent every minute since explaining first why he had abandoned his work post and then trying to explain what he had seen and the implications it raised.

The committee had listened in silence and he had felt his heart leap with the hope that he might have misjudged these people. Now that they were presented with a challenge, would they be equal to it? After he had finished his explanations, though, his confidence in the committee had been shattered as the communal silence of before had turned into a fractal and totally disconnected set of individuals all arguing against each other on how they should meet this new threat.

Although almost all of them disagreed with the specifics, most of the members were leaning toward some form of passive response. In other words, they were going to ignore the threat and hope it passed by. There were various degrees of how they would achieve this, but, in general, a policy of wait and see was slowly being developed.

“I don’t believe that you can be so naïve,” Corelli suddenly lost his cool and jumped to his feet. The committee members suddenly stopped their arguing and snapped their attention toward him. Many of them looked at him in confusion as if they were surprised that he was still there. “There is a force of thralls on their way here. Don’t you understand that?”

“Son,” Phil Regan began but he was viciously interrupted.

“I’m not your son,” Corelli spat with more emotion than he had intended. The last thing he wanted was for these people to dismiss him as an emotional lunatic. He forced himself to calm down before continuing. “If those thralls discover that Nero and his vampires are not in charge in this state then they will come in their droves and find us in no time. We have to convince them that Nero still rules.”

“There is no way we can do that,” Regan tried to project calm as he laid his hands gently on the table in front of him. “We can’t just take on that amount of thralls in a pitched battle…”

“We don’t have to attack them, we…”

“Alfonso,” Ian Phelps interrupted with a calm but insistent voice. “We really appreciate you coming back to us with this warning, but, really, we are better served letting this patrol see that there is no one here at all rather than instigate a war that we cannot hope to win.” A chorus of grunts and whispered agreement rippled around the table.

“The boy is not suggesting we attack them, you fool,” Lucy suddenly interrupted. “If you would just listen to him you might actually hear what he’s saying.” Lucy Irvine was one of the only original members on the committee, and she rarely spoke in meetings outside of her administrative reports. Her sudden interruption, and the very definite bard directed toward Phelps was so uncharacteristic that everyone at the table stopped talking and turned toward the matronly woman.

She stared back defiantly at the other members before continuing. “If we do nothing then they will come in greater force to determine what has happened to the thralls and vampires who ruled here before. We simply can not allow that.” A low murmur spread among the members. “If you had listened to the boy instead of trying to talk over him,” she continued, raising her voice and demanding their attention by her tone, “you’d realise that he has a pretty good plan.”

She paused as her fellow members sat back and remained silent. “No one is suggesting a pitched battle. All we have to do is convince this patrol that thralls are still in charge of this state. There is no reason to assume that this is an invasion force. There are not enough of them for that. This is something else.

They are expecting to be stopped by Nero’s forces and we should not disappoint them. We have plenty of uniforms and weapons in storage. Philip,” she turned her attention to Phil Regan and the man flushed slightly under her scrutiny. “This is most definitely one time where you must listen to others who know better. You are our Leader, for good or bad, and now you must start to act like one. Sometimes you have to listen to others with an open mind to do what is best for the community. All our lives are affected by whatever you decide; make sure it’s the right choice.”

Carter grew more and more uneasy as the miles continued to pass uneventfully. His mind had imagined so many sudden and devastating attacks over the last hour that when the ambush finally happened it was almost a relief.

They were within a thousand yards of the city limits when a wreck to the side of the road suddenly erupted in a fireball. The sound of the explosion seemed to arrive a moment later and his driver was already reacting as his own brain struggled to catch up. The jeep screeched to a halt and thralls jumped out of the back and took up positions of cover. Behind him he heard the shouted commands and bustle of his forces pouring from the trucks and taking up positions.

His mind raced but he remained surprisingly calm. He had seen the contrail of the rocket a moment before the shell had hit the wreck and he knew that if his attacker had wanted him dead then he would be. He slowly stood up and exited the jeep as he searched the surrounding landscape for some idea of the size of the force he was facing. The road was surrounded on his right by a sheer cliff face that slowly rolled down in the distance to the level of the road just before the first of the buildings of the small city in the distance began. On his left stretched a wide expanse of long grass which had grown pale under the sun’s relentless glare. It looked almost like a sea of wheat but didn’t have the golden richness he would have expected from that crop. It was, however, an ideal place to hide a large force.

His eyes strayed to the cliff on his right, taking note of the many places where he would deploy his own forces if he had planned an ambush here. The crest was almost a hundred yards straight up and provided an ideal position for snipers. He couldn’t have picked a better place for an ambush himself and, strangely, he sighed with relief. He had wondered why he had been allowed so far into this territory without any form of resistance. Now he knew it was because he was being lured to this very point. It seemed that his fears had been for nothing, after all. Nero was obviously still in control.

Now all he had to do was convince his opposite number not to kill him and it would have been a worthwhile trip.

Tanya Syn counted the last few steps of the guard and then turned to Josh Harris with a smile lighting her whole face. “See, I told you.” She raised an eyebrow and wagged her finger.

“All right,” Harris conceded, “but that only tells us when, not how.”

“I know,” Tanya shrugged, “but at least we know there’s a gap we can use. Now all we need to do is figure out a way of getting out there during the changeover. Of course,” she paused as she turned back toward the square “if we could create enough of a diversion we might just…”

“Oh no,” Josh interrupted immediately. “We’ve talked about this. There is no way in hell we can get to that other pen, find your kids and get back to the exit point in the time we have.” He paused as she looked away but he put a hand on her shoulder and gently, but firmly, turned her to look at him.

“Tanya, the only way we can help them is to get free first and then help them from outside.”

“But…”

“There are no ‘buts’, Tanya. I don’t know how much the vampires are telling the thralls about us being off the serum. They are still very sloppy when they take us to and from the bleeding huts but they are not stupid. We’ll only get one chance at this and I will not stay here and let these fuckers bleed me dry any longer than I have to.”

He paused as he stared hard at Tanya. “Make no mistake, Tanya. You are an intelligent woman and would be a great asset to have in taking the war to them, but I will not come back for you or risk anybody else if you decide to throw away your freedom.”

“But they’re only children …”

“Tanya,” Harris interrupted. “There isn’t enough time. You can’t help them if they pump you full of serum again.”

Tanya looked at the man in front of her, wanting to hate him but knowing that he was right. But she couldn’t look at this objectively. Her children were being abused a few hundred yards from her and she ached to help them. There had to be a way. If she did escape, the thralls might take their outrage out on those prisoners that were left. She had nightmares of seeing her children executed while she watched from afar. She had run the numbers again and again and knew that there just wasn’t the time to get over there, find them and get back before the thralls reacted to the escape. She knew that, but, by her reckoning, she only needed another few minutes to make it almost viable and that was just too close not to at least attempt it.

She had hoped that the others would try to find that extra time. After all, she had identified the gap that they could use to get everyone out. But they all agreed with Josh. Of course, it wasn’t their children under threat so it was easier for them to be objective. There had been a spark of sorts between Harris and herself from the start and she had played on that to try and get him to help. She wasn’t proud of herself for that but her children were in danger and she would do anything to hold them again. Josh had listened, in fairness, but when the numbers didn’t add up he had closed the door on any further discussion.

“Do we understand each other?” he pressed her.

“Oh we understand each other, all right,” Tanya replied coldly and then turned away and began to count the timing of the guards yet again.

There must be a way.

Chapter 18

Josh Harris watched helplessly as the guards made their way back toward the gate, pushing their charges ahead of them. It was ‘bleeding time’ and they had chosen the standard fourteen humans. It was still dark but dawn wouldn’t be long in coming. They always took their charges just before dawn and around sunset. The vampires liked to feed on fresh blood before they slept and as they woke, it seemed. This time, however, Tanya was one of the fourteen and the lascivious grins on the guards’ faces had left Harris no doubt as to their intentions once the bleeding had been completed.

Josh knew that this had been the plan all along, but he was still uncomfortable with it. None of them really knew what was likely to happen. The guards had been abusing the females, and indeed some of the males, for years, but the serum had made all of their memories fuzzy. They just didn’t know what was likely to happen. Would each thrall take one woman each or would they be attacked by the whole barracks? Two of the women in the current batch were part of the plan, but they had failed to get any males in the group, despite placing those who were in on the plan in prominent places.

It was down to blind luck where the men were concerned. The women were able to stand a certain way that attracted the thralls immediately. They had kept the numbers within their group small enough. The last thing they wanted was to let their plan be generally known. They still had no idea why they had been weaned off the serum and someone in the pens, or maybe more than one of them, could be agents put in place by the thralls for some reason.

They had chosen their people carefully, either by previous knowledge of that person or, in Tanya’s case, by their obvious flare for planning an escape. They had planned it as well as they could but he was still not happy. Once the prisoners were taken out of this prison they were on their own. His heart thudded in his chest as he watched the small group being led towards the bleeding hut. As the last of them disappeared inside he was left alone. Even in a prison surrounded by hundreds of others, it was still amazing how alone you could feel.

He looked up at the sky. Thick grey clouds roiled toward the city and he shivered. Even the weather seemed to have changed in sympathy with his mood. It looked like snow, which could be both a blessing and a curse. If they did manage to get out, the snow would dampen the vampire’s ability to track them, but if the coming storm was severe enough, it might just kill them all from exposure and save the vampires the trouble.

Jesus, he thought. Snow in California. What has happened to this world?

The door closed behind them and Tanya stared at the cubicles in front of her. This was the first time she had been chosen since she had come off the effects of the serum and the stark reality of the bleeding machinery suddenly hit her like a slap.

We’re less than livestock to them. Already the thralls were pushing the others toward the cubicles and attaching tubes ending in sharp pins to their arms or legs or wherever they weren’t already too many scabs.

The coldness of the equipment and the starkness of the room made her shiver. A sudden horror washed over as she imagined her children being taken to these very same cubicles. She felt her heart beat faster as her anger grew. She had a sudden, mad desire to lash out at the thrall next to her, but she knew that it would be pointless. Such a creature wouldn’t even feel her blows. She would have to wait and bide her time. Later, when the thralls had completed their chores, they would want to take their rewards on the women in this group. And when they did Tanya would have her chance to make sure they got everything they deserved. She felt a push in her back and she allowed herself to be directed into one of the cubicles. She didn’t even feel the numerous pin pricks as the equipment was hooked up. Instead, she let her anger seethe through her. She would be weak after giving blood, but the fire in her belly and the hatred in her heart would sustain her.

For the sake of her children she hoped it would be enough.

Emma Logan walked down the corridor, keeping careful track of her quarry. She walked just far enough not to be too obvious but closer than before so she would not lose Patricia Lohan this time. She could see the woman’s severely cut hair bobbing among the light traffic of people just in front of her, but she forced herself not to be complacent. Since yesterday’s debacle she had followed one member of the committee after another and, what had originally appeared to be a great adventure had turned out to be an incredibly boring chore. But she could not afford to lose sight of Lohan.

Father Reilly would never trust her again if she failed a second time. Besides, the boys would be so disappointed in her if she screwed up again. She needed their friendship and respect more than she had realised. When she had lost Lohan yesterday they hadn’t blamed her, but the look of disappointment in their faces had been more than she could bear.

It was approaching nine in the morning, though you would never know it in the catacombs of enclosed corridors that had been built between the buildings that made up their main living area.

The city was unrecognisable from what it had been before the vampires had come. They did have a number of areas which were situated outside, but these were used for the production of food and were carefully hidden from aerial view. For everything else, they lived under cover. They could not risk being seen as they moved from building to building so they had knocked through walls where the buildings were beside each other and had devised a series of tunnels and enclosed walkways to join up those that were further apart. In some cases the sewer system had been used when the distance had been too far to build a walkway. Danny had christened these tunnels “stinkways” as a heavy smell still lingered even though no waste had passed through them in quite some time and the brick had been steam-cleaned numerous times.

Logan missed being out in the air and feeling the cool early morning breeze on her face, but she knew that it was impossible to hide so many people any other way. Would it always be like this? She sighed as the hopelessness washed over her.

She shook herself from her thoughts as they began to approach the area where she had lost Lohan yesterday and moved a little closer. The number of people around her began to increase as members of the community ran errands or made their way to their assigned roles before the change of shift.

The city was planned around three main hubs that connected all the buildings that the community used. It was impossible to connect to one central hub as there were far too many people, so they had tried to ensure that everyone connected to a main artery. To do this they had planned three large communal areas; designated Harrington Plaza - in honour of Dan Harrington who had started the community, Liberty Plaza and Freedom plaza. All were connected to each other through large walkways. Each hub would have the same facilities, schools, food markets and work areas.

The original plan was that they would be identical so that no one would feel of a lesser class than anyone else. Each of these hubs then had smaller tunnels stretching throughout the city where people lived and worked.

As with everything, though, those who lived closest to the hubs seemed to feel that they were of a higher class than others who lived further away. Added to this was the fact that the southern hub, designated Liberty, could only be connected to the other two through the sewer system as it was just too far to construct anything large enough to accommodate the number of people who needed to use it. This led to the inhabitants of this hub, and anyone connected to it, to be referred to as ‘shitkickers’ and nothing the community had done had been able to change this unfortunate labelling.

As they approached Harrington Plaza, Emma was forced to move to within a few feet of Lohan as bodies pressed around her. Lohan worked just off the main hub and she would continue on this tunnel for another thirty…

Lohan turned a sharp left and disappeared from the stream of people. Emma gasped as the woman suddenly disappeared down a side walkway that was barely visible among the throng of people. In fact, if she had not been almost in touching distance to the woman she would have passed by oblivious to it and lost her again. Emma’s heart began to beat faster as she forced her way through the throng of people and finally pushed through into the empty space of the small corridor.

It was a hastily constructed narrow corridor fashioned out of corrugated steel. It was narrow and only stretched some fifty feet before it seemed to disappear into the shadow of a small building ahead. Cold air seeped through the many gaps in the steel and she shivered. This must be a little-used path as the workers hadn’t bothered to seal the metal properly.

Emma caught sight of Lohan as she disappeared into the gloom at the end of the path, and then the darkness seemed to envelope her like a cloak. Emma began to run but she was forced to slow her steps as her shoes thudded loudly on the metal floor and the noise would announce her presence as surely as shouting after her quarry. She groped for her walkie-talkie and told the others what was happening. Everyone would remain with their own targets but they did have three on reserve for just such an occurrence. One would run to get Father Reilly and the other two would try to work their way ahead of Lohan and pick her up from the other direction.

Emma’s heart thumped in her chest. Had they found the traitor? Was this it? Was she ready for this? The questions flooded her mind but she forced her doubts aside as she passed into the gloom of the building ahead and strained through the darkness to see Lohan.

There was no lighting in the building as she passed from the metal of the tunnel to cold concrete, and her initial relief as being able to walk quietly was immediately replaced by a sudden fear that she had lost Lohan again. Thin streams of light seemed to filter through cracks in the boards which covered the windows. Why would anyone want to block out the light in here, she wondered as she strained her eyes and ears for some clue as to where Lohan had gone. It made no sense to darken a building that was used merely as a walkthrough for the tunnels, someone could break a leg. There was definitely something underhanded going on. Emma felt the darkness suddenly loom around her and she felt very exposed silhouetted in the light of the tunnel behind her.

She moved further into the gloom, straining for any clue. The sudden loud squawk of her walkie-talkie sent panic flooding through her as she groped for the machine as she searched desperately for the mute button. Shit! Had she been heard? How could she not have been? Emma forced one foot in front of the other and continued to make her way through the darkness when, suddenly, she heard a low murmur to her left. Voices. She turned abruptly and began to follow the low murmur of the whispering ahead of her. Her heart seemed to beat like a bass drum and she was certain that whoever was ahead of her would hear each thump. She moved carefully, one step at a time, as she waved her hand gently in front of her to avoid walking into anything.

The whispering stopped for a moment and she heard a strange fumbling. What was going on? She heard another stream of whispered words but their tone was strange; hurried, urgent. And then they were cut off abruptly. The noises were coming from just in front of her.

She pressed on and stopped as she heard more rustling. She heard a low moan and her face suddenly grew hot as she began to suspect what was happening. She had heard enough passionate exchanges when her mother had ‘entertained’ to know the urgent, breathless sounds of passion. It seemed Ms. Lohan had red blood running through her veins after all. She felt relieved as she realised what was going on, and then a little guilty for being there. She was about to move away when a thought struck her. Why all the cloak and dagger secret meetings? Why hide a relationship? The corridors were filled each night with people moving between bedrooms as they sought comfort. She had seen them herself every time she had been sent out for a walk by her mother during her many ‘gentleman visits’.

Most of the people made no secret as to their destinations. Why would Lohan go so out of her way to be secretive? Emma stopped again and turned back toward the sounds of passion behind her. She felt dirty somehow as she moved closer, but she had to know why Patricia Lohan was being so secretive. That was the only way they could strike her off their list and concentrate on the others.

The low moans were becoming more urgent now and Emma’s heart beat faster. It seemed that her heartbeat was almost in time with the urgent moans from ahead and she felt strangely fascinated for a moment. She moved closer and could see two vague shapes just ahead. Thin tendrils of light filtered through a nearby window but only managed to illuminate the figures as silhouettes.

She strained though the darkness and saw one of the figures rise up and shake their head as they cried out. Oh my God. It all fit. Emma had seen enough. She rushed as fast as she could back the way she had come. The light of the tunnel ahead seemed like a beacon that drew her on and promised to cleanse her. She hurried on as her mind swirled. The figure she had seen outlined in the pale light had had long hair. No wonder Lohan was being secretive about her affair. Emma reached the light of the tunnel finally and ran down its length, heedless of being heard. At least they could scratch her from their list of suspects. Though how she was going to explain what she had seen to the others she did not know.

Of course, it also meant that their main suspect was not the traitor and they now had to start all over again.

Chapter 19

Peter Harris looked over his entourage with a heavy heart. It had taken them over a day to get this far and things weren’t improving any either. He had been shocked to see how badly the whole team had been mauled and he felt a deep guilt and anger at himself for leaving them so exposed. Denis would be fine, it seemed. He still grew dizzy after walking for extended periods so there was no telling if any serious damage had been done at this time. With no x-rays or other medical equipment, it was a matter of wait and see unfortunately. The deep furrow on his skull looked nasty but at least it had stopped bleeding.

Benjamin was getting worse from what he could see. The wound itself wasn’t the problem, it was the fact that they couldn’t get the bullet out and the area around the wound couldn’t be cleaned properly until the bullet was out. If left much longer it would go bad and he could lose the arm. Unfortunately, they were still a long way from home, especially with their serum-induced charges.

The boy Ricks was the worst, though. He had taken three bullets in all. None had lodged in his body, though each had torn out a sizable chunk when they had torn free and he had lost a lot of blood. Without a transfusion he would die, but giving him the wrong type of blood could kill him just as effectively. He was at a loss as to what he should do. They had travelled the first fifty miles in the truck, racing over the main roads as fast as they could to get as far from the explosion as possible.

They had allowed three hours to get clear before the timed explosions had been set to go off. Anymore and they risked the thralls finding them and disarming them. As it was, three hours was still taking a big risk. They had hidden the explosives really well and were counting on the thralls securing the area and leaving it alone until qualified people could be brought in to ensure the tank could be moved safely rather than stumbling clumsily around the wreckage.

If all went well the explosions should happen anytime now. They would have to ditch the truck now, though, despite their dire need for fast transport. They were just too visible otherwise. They had rescued twelve prisoners from the patrol, but all were doped up on the serum so they were difficult to move with any speed. They would have to move at night as the prisoners just couldn’t react quickly enough if a patrol came along and would be a risk to everyone. Travelling at night left them susceptible to any passing vampires though. It was a matter of choosing the least threatening path at this point, and there was no doubt in Harris’ mind that the thralls posed the greater threat as they would be actively looking for them after the attack. There was no reason to suspect that the vampires would be out in any force so the odds were slightly better for travelling at night – he hoped. That meant they had to hide during the daylight hours. And all the time they waited their wounded grew steadily worse.

There was just no upside to this situation, he realised. Even if everything went to plan the best they could hope for was spilling toxic waste over a large area of the state and possibly killing those innocent prisoners who were still left in the area. Their deaths weighed heavily on him; yet, their deaths would provide a much needed diversion to help save many others. Did this justify their horrible deaths, though? It seemed that every day that went by a little more of his humanity was being eroded away.

Jake Warren cursed as the truck thumped over the uneven surface and rattled his teeth for the umpteenth time. He still had no clear understanding of what was happening. Twenty minutes ago he was just recovering from another ‘red line’ incident. This had been the longest yet and he had been seriously worried that the dial would never come back into the relative safety of the black area. He had tried in the last week to research what might be causing the incidents but the manuals he had found might as well have been written in Arabic for all he could understand.

Obviously something wasn’t right but, up till now, the plant’s own safety systems were handling the situation. But for how long? It certainly wasn’t a good sign that the ‘incidents’ were taking longer to recover. It was only a matter of time before the safety systems couldn’t handle the problem any more; and then what? Would the plant actually blow or would it merely shut down? Not that it mattered much; he’d be dead either way.

The thralls had rushed him from the plant into a truck with no explanations. In a rare moment of mad courage he had considered refusing to go until they had told him where they were taking him. Adrenaline had flooded through him and he had felt almost light-headed with his new-found courage. One look at the anger on their faces though had evaporated the small kernel of resistance he had managed to foster and he had allowed himself to be led out without a word.

Now, twenty minutes later, they were speeding across country and every bone in his body was being shaken. Why weren’t they using the roads, he wondered? What was the big hurry?

Finally, they began to slow and he looked out ahead of the truck to see why they were slowing down. He could see a truck on its side and another lying in a ditch to the side of the road. An accident, he realised. But why would they bring him? He wasn’t a doctor. And then his heart dropped as he saw the huge tanker on its side with its squat concrete load beside it. Oh shit!

He looked around frantically for some way to escape. There were too many thralls around the site, treating wounded or laying out bodies in a line on the road. He wouldn’t get more than a few feet, he realised. Was it already too late? Was the radiation corrupting his body even as he looked at it? Why me? The thoughts tumbled through his mind moments before the explosives hidden under the casket counted down the final seconds.

He saw a thrall suddenly run from his examination of the casket. He was shouting something to the others and everything suddenly seemed to stop for a moment. Then he heard a roar and the casket suddenly belched up into the air. He didn’t even hear the explosion before he felt the heat of the blast and then everything went mercifully dark.

Carter waited impatiently as the sun burned into his shoulders. It was still cold but the sun’s glare was surprisingly strong and he shifted uncomfortably. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back and was well aware that only some of it was from the sun. Where were they? he wondered for the umpteenth time. He had stood in the middle of the road now for a full five minutes and no one had come forward.

If they had wanted to kill them then they would have opened fire by now. But why wait so long to come forward? They held all the cards. He could hear nervous muttering behind him and he knew that the thralls in his patrol were on a knife-edge. If something didn’t happen soon then someone might panic and set off a fire-fight.

“Easy.” He turned toward his men as calmly as he could and grinned with what he hoped was confidence. By the time he returned his attention to the front there was movement ahead.

At last.

Phil Regan’s knees wobbled as he walked toward the enemy thrall. They had barely gotten here in time at all after all their arguing. In fact, some of the others were still deliberating back in the council chamber, but Regan had acted on an impulse that he still didn’t fully understand. Corelli had raced ahead with a small team, and they had arrived in time to see that the thralls had advanced far quicker than they had expected. They were already at the city limits and Corelli had taken a reckless chance.

Before anyone could stop him, the boy had grabbed an RPG from one of the men and sent a warning shot to slow the thralls down. If the thralls had been here to invade this would have started a conflict that they would have had no chance of winning. However, it seemed that these thralls were here to talk and the warning volley had worked. The thralls had stopped and their leader had come forward to talk.

Of course, it had taken him and the others another ten minutes to get into position and he was out of breath as he now approached the thrall leader. He really wasn’t adept at this sort of thing. He wasn’t good at conflict, preferring to work through others to achieve his goals. But, despite what others might think, he did care what happened to the community. Yes, he enjoyed power and wasn’t beyond playing a little dirty, if required, but he did genuinely believe he was the man to lead these people. However, leading people in wartime was very different to the politics he was used to.

Everything had seemed so much easier before news of the serum’s fatal properties had escalated the danger to them all. And now they had a traitor amongst them and an invading force to repel. His mind raced as he strode toward the thrall leader. Would their traitor take this opportunity to betray them all and reveal their deception? Would this thrall leader believe him and go away or merely slit his throat and step over his corpse. God, I wish Harris was here, he thought and then couldn’t help letting a grin escape as the irony of his situation hit him.

Carter saw the thrall approaching him grin and he felt his own smile slip slightly. This commander was obviously very confident of his position. And why wouldn’t he be? He held all the cards. Carter began to wonder if he had made the right choice coming here. He began to run through what he was going to say and suddenly realised that what had made perfect sense back in his headquarters didn’t seem quite so compelling now.

He raised both arms to show his peaceful intentions and moved forward to meet the commander with more than a little nervousness.

Regan finally stopped in front of the thrall commander and wondered what he should say. His legs shook and threatened to buckle on him as he looked around at the other thralls on the road. They were very well armed and there were more of them than he had realised when he had started walking toward them. Some of the jeeps had heavy machine guns secured on plinths in the back and he paled as he noted the large bullets trailing down to the bed of a jeep. God, those things could cut me in half. Regan glanced at the commander again but he couldn’t raise the courage to look him in the eyes so he moved his attention back to the thrall forces.

This is a cool one, Carter thought as he appraised the commander in front of him. He had walked very slowly up to this point, and now he spent his time casually marking his forces positions and taking in the whole scene. He hadn’t even said a word yet. He was obviously so confident he was happy to strut here on his own and totally ignore Carter as he surveyed what he was up against. Maybe he had made a mistake coming here, after all.

The silence seemed to grow more palpable the longer it went on, but, while the other commander seemed oblivious to the pressure, Carter was not. He felt a sudden urge to explain himself.

“This isn’t exactly as it looks,” Carter broke the silence, but his voice was dry from the journey and he sounded apologetic rather than confident.

The other commander took his time to respond and Carter felt the sweat rolling down his back.

God, what do I say? Regan knew that he had to respond to the thrall commander, but the entire fate of the community rested on his ability to bluff this thrall, and his mind was a total blank. He desperately wanted to say something clever, something that would convince this thrall that he was the confident thrall commander that he appeared to be. Words swam in his mind but none of them seemed to coalesce to form a full sentence. The more he looked at the thrall the more his thoughts seemed to scatter, so he looked away again as he surveyed the high incline to the side of the road. God I wish we had had time to put some men up there, he thought.

“So what exactly is it then?”

The words just seemed to pop out without conscious thought, but he was far too nervous to look back at the commander to see his reaction.

Jesus, Carter thought as the thrall before him casually scanned the incline. He’s letting me know that he has a line of thralls along that ridge. He had to respond carefully. He had hoped to converse with this thrall, explain to him on a personal level why he was here, but the other commander wasn’t playing ball. In fact, he wouldn’t even look at him. It was as if he had already decided to slaughter him and his forces and had only come out at all out of curiosity.

“We are here looking for a band of humans who might be crossing our border from your state.” He had hoped that his statement would carry enough confidence that he could get the other commander to actually look at him. But, as he heard the words he spoke, they seemed pathetic - more pleading than confident. And then the thrall before him spluttered.

Jesus, he’s laughing at me.

Regan couldn’t help it. As soon as the other thrall laid down his theory he knew they were sunk. They had theorised that the thralls might be here for this reason, but he had avoided giving any credence to this. He had hoped that this force was merely an envoy to the thralls in this state for trade or something. To hear that this thrall commander had worked out where the community lived was a blow and he was unable to stop his exclamation of surprise. Shit, I’ve really blown it now.

“Of course,” Carter stuttered quickly as the other commander raised a hand to his mouth, “I am not suggesting that the humans are coming from here, exactly. But there have been a number of attacks just over our border and I wondered if you had had similar problems. I did send an envoy, but they never returned.”

The other commander stopped spluttering and lowered his hand as he turned back toward him.

God, Regan felt relief flood through him, they don’t know where we are. They’re fishing. He felt a new confidence flush through him and he finally felt bold enough to meet the other commander’s eyes. He forced himself to stare into the thrall’s eyes and felt so giddy that he actually managed a grin, a small one admittedly, but a grin nonetheless.

“Are you seriously telling me that you are having so much trouble with some pathetic humans,” he spat the last word for effect, really getting into his role, “that you have come here to beg for help.” He was growing in confidence now and he drew himself to his full height as he continued. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

Carter felt as if he had been slapped. The thrall commander actually grinned as he spoke down to him. What made it worse was that Carter realised that he would not have been so understanding if their roles had been reversed. He would have slaughtered the small force well before this. What had he been thinking? How could he have been so sure? He desperately searched for the words that would allow him to regain some respect. He considered arguing that the humans were not so easily dealt with, but he could never hope to convince someone who had never seen them in action.

He had to concentrate on getting out of here alive now. This thrall could still signal the annihilation of his entire force if he wanted to, He knew that, if the positions were reversed, that he would wipe them out without a second thought. He did not have enough men to start something now, but he would return. This bastard had laughed at him and he would see him pay for that. He didn’t care if he left his other borders vulnerable. He would gather every thrall he had and come back here and wipe this bastard’s smirk from his face.

The thrall commander seemed about to speak again. He was openly grinning now and Carter forced himself to remain calm as he glared at the other leader.

Regan was enjoying himself now and allowed his relief full reign as a smile broke out on his face. He would enjoy telling the others of this great victory. He would tell how he had cowed this thrall with his confidence and how he had chased him away with his tail between his legs.

He opened his mouth to speak but a loud squawk came from a nearby radio and he was distracted for a moment. He heard a low muttering as one of the thralls talked quietly into the radio. He remained unsure what to do for a moment longer, and by then his planned insult had disappeared from his mind so he just stood there and grinned instead.

Carter felt like throwing caution to the wind and smashing his fist into the thrall commander’s face. Even though it would surely see them all die, he was still very tempted. He closed his hands into fists and was just about to move forward when the radio broke the silence and he felt his adrenaline drain away. No, he would remain in control. That way he could come back and make this bastard pay.

Besides, the radio worried him. Who would be sending a signal to him this far out? They never used the long range radio except in emergencies. He had replaced many of the cells throughout the states as he had taken control, realising that he could not rule without the ability to communicate. He had left specific instructions though that it be used sparingly. There were just too many ways to intercept the signal and he did not want the humans knowing his plans. Besides, the cells were a limited resource and, once they were used up, there would be no more.

“Sir,” the word was difficult for Carter to use but he knew that he was not in a position of strength here and he had to bargain for all of their lives. “It seems I was mistaken. If you will allow us, we will…”

“Sir,” his aide had come up behind him and stood impatiently behind him.

“If you will excuse me for a moment.” Carter forced a smile onto his face as he turned to his aide with a glowering look.

It only took a moment for the aide to relay his message but it seemed as though his whole world had just collapsed. There had been an attack on the nuclear waste convoy and the entire area was at risk. Fuck the area, he thought. If that plant is in the middle of a toxic area he would have no power and without power he would be overrun by those straining at his borders. They had to contain the spill immediately or risk losing the reactor. He would tear whoever had done this limb from limb when he caught them. Right after that he would come back here and tear this thrall a new asshole. His mind seethed with hatred and embarrassment but he forced himself to smile benignly as he turned back to the still-grinning thrall commander.

“I must apologise.” He bit on the words as they rolled from his mouth. “It seems I am needed elsewhere. With your permission, I will take my men and trouble you no more.”

I’ve done it, Regan thought with a surge of pride. I’ve turned back an entire force of thralls with only my intelligence. Harris could never have achieved that. This is why I am the leader. He swelled with pride and confidence and raised his hand in what he thought was a dismissive wave.

“Of course,” he answered with a shrug. “You run along now. Got to keep those unruly humans in line.

Regan was so pleased with his quip that he was already turning away and walking back to his community and the glory he was sure to receive. He was far too happy to notice the look of pure poison that the thrall commander shot at him or to hear the muttered oath that the commander made before he gathered up his forces and retreated.

Chapter 20

A helicopter. Jesus, I haven’t seen one of those in years, Harris thought as he watched the machine race across the sky above them. Helicopters, while they provided huge advantages in mobility, used far too much fuel. In a world where fuel was a scarce and ever-dwindling resource it made no sense to use them anymore. Except in an emergency, of course. They had heard the noise of the craft from some distance away and had left the vehicle abandoned along with the many others they had passed on this route and then had hidden while the helicopter carried on overhead.

“Looks like the charges went off, then,” Warkowski muttered as he watched the craft disappear from sight.

“You don’t agree with this mission, do you?” Harris asked as he lowered his gaze to look the big man in the eyes.

Warkowski hesitated for a moment and then seemed to make up his mind about something.

“No, I don’t,” he said simply. “We are playing with forces we don’t understand and can’t hope to control. There are just too many things that can go wrong.”

Harris looked at the big sniper for a moment and then sighed. “You’re right, but what choice do we have? The thralls definitely suspect something, their forays into Nero’s territory are becoming bolder, and it’s only a matter of time before they find out Nero isn’t in charge anymore.”

“I know that, Peter,” Warkowski agreed, “but it is the misuse of nuclear power which has led us to this whole mess. If the oil supply had not been ruined by nuclear bombs then the vampires would never have been able to take over in the first place. Don’t you see? We can’t control that much power.”

Harris looked at Warkowski as he searched for some answer to what the man had said, but he couldn’t find one. Warkowski was right. Nuclear energy was just too unpredictable and dangerous to mess with, especially in a world where the resources and expertise to handle any problems were severely limited. Maybe he had acted too quickly. Causing a nuclear spill merely to act as a diversion was extreme to say the least.

He thought about all the people back in the community, and what would happen if the thralls or the vampires found them. Surely their survival was worth any risk? They could be the last humans left alive on the planet in less than a year if what Pat Smyth feared came true. Wasn’t the future of humanity worth that? He thought so. But still, he felt a terrible sinking feeling when he thought of what they had done.

If the winds blew the wrong way the fallout might very well reach the town and kill every human prisoner kept there. He knew there were only fifty people there in total, a small number when compared to the thousands in the community, but still. Were they any less important than the people in the community? Had he become so callous that their deaths didn’t bother him? Is that what it took now to survive?

Warkowski’s views were valid but naïve. While he agreed that they were playing with forces they didn’t understand and could not control, they were also fighting for survival against forces that were far more powerful than they were. Anything they could use to even those odds was fair game. They weren’t merely in a fight between good and evil, they were fighting for the survival of an entire race. He looked into Warkowski’s eyes and was about to speak when Sandra came up behind them.

“Peter, we might have a problem.”

“Just the one?” He shrugged as he tried to smile at Sandra.

“This one’s big enough, I’m afraid,” she sighed and sat on a rock beside the two men. “One of the men we rescued is already coming out of the serum’s effects. Seems he was only just put under.” She held up her hand to stop Harris from interrupting as she saw him lean forward. “He’s still too groggy and I don’t know the full story, so don’t ask. He is insistent, though, that we have to go back to the plant. Keeps repeating it over and over.”

“The serum might have been too much for him,” Warkowski ventured. “We have had a few who couldn’t handle the reality they woke to find themselves in.”

“Yes, I know,” Sandra replied a little testily. She had nursed many of those unfortunates herself and was well aware how the shock of what had happened was too much for some people. “But this is different. He’s not mad, just insistent. You can see that he wants to say more but the serum hasn’t fully worked its way out so he keeps lapsing into repetition.

“Don’t you have any tranquilisers?” Warkowski asked. “Maybe he just needs a little more time to come to terms.”

“Yes, I have, but I really don’t want to use it. What if it really is important?”

“His family is probably still back at the plant. I know that would have me up the walls.”

“You might be right,” Sandra replied, “but I just get the feeling that it’s something else. I can’t explain it. He looks terrified.”

Harris pursed his lips as he thought through the situation. “Is there any way we can help him overcome the serum any quicker?”

“It’s hard to say,” Sandra began and then seemed to trail off as she considered the question. “I could give him a shot of adrenaline, but there’s no way of knowing if it will help. There’s always a risk with adrenaline. If he has a weak heart or some other condition we don’t know about.”

“Well, we have to make a decision now.” Harris looked at his watch. “We have to move out within the hour and if we travel any further there’s no way we can go back. It’s just too risky. We’ll have to take the chance with the adrenaline. If there is something back there that we have to know about, then we have to know now.”

Sandra bit at her lower lip as she considered the argument, and then nodded once and quietly went back toward the others. Harris looked over at Warkowski again but the man was looking out over the plain in front of them. Warkowski wasn’t comfortable with making decisions that carried with them a moral ambiguity. Harris didn’t like them either, but someone had to do it if they were to survive, and it didn’t look like anyone else was going to volunteer anytime soon.

William Carter fumed as the helicopter cut through the clear sky. He hated using so much fuel but he had little choice in such an emergency. The power plant was the root of his power. Without it his tenuous hold on the thralls would be severely weakened if not severed completely. He had to show them that he was in control or they would shift their allegiance elsewhere. It was also essential to light up his borders and show those vampires and thralls amassed there that all was well and that any incursions into his territory would be severely and competently dealt with. If the lights went out it wouldn’t be long before those forces would take it as a sign of his weakness and cross in a flood he could not hope to hold back.

An attack on the nuclear waste convoy, the local commander had said. Von Kruger. The name leapt into his thoughts and he felt his anger grow. The bastard had carried through on his threat. He had struck directly at the heart of his control. It was a move borne from an intelligence that he hadn’t credited the vampire with. He had expected an attack from the vampire, of course, but one which involved throwing his forces at the outer and less well-defended camps throughout the state. He had expected him to be a nuisance, a threat even, but this showed a cunning that he had not expected. And that worried him. Had he so misjudged the vampire?

He looked out over the horizon at the deserted and desolate land below him. There were still many sun-bleached husks of abandoned vehicles strewn around the landscape. Many of the smaller roads were still choked with deserted vehicles; desiccated bodies still lay in or close to their vehicles where people had died in the violence that had preceded the vampires’ reign. Eventually he would clear away these reminders of the past, but for now, he had concentrated only on the main routes, allowing his forces to move quickly between borders.

As he looked below him he could see how the rebel humans could survive for so long. They could be right below him at this moment and he would not be able to see them in the mass of abandoned vehicles. All they would have to do would be to blend in and hide inside a truck and he would pass overhead oblivious of their presence. He wondered briefly if any eyes watched him now. And then he smiled as he realised that he was being ridiculous. He had more pressing worries to consider.

So far, Von Kruger had only attacked a convoy carrying nuclear waste. While this was serious enough he might still be able to nullify the threat if he acted in time. But if Von Kruger was using this to divert his attention while he took out the plant, then waiting might see everything he had worked for go up in flames. He wondered briefly why the vampire had not attacked the plant itself. There could be many reasons, of course. He might not have had enough vampires gathered for such an attack at the time and had seen the patrol and decided to attack that while he waited for the rest of his forces. He wondered where the master vampire was hiding during the day. If he could find him now, before nightfall, he would be able to destroy the vampire forever.

It was a huge state, though. He glanced around the big helicopter and took some comfort from the sea of hard-bitten faces of his elite guard. He had crammed in as many as the craft could take and still take off. It wouldn’t do him any good if they were attacked in the air but the quicker he got there the quicker he could add their strength and competence to the plant’s defence. Once he had reached the plant he would send the helicopter up again to see if they could see anything that might be used as a lair. Maybe he would get lucky. Either way, there was going to be a reckoning before the sun rose tomorrow.

Had Von Kruger always planned this? Was their meeting just a ruse to ensure he was miles away when he attacked the plant? The vampire had obviously forgotten that he had access to a helicopter. His other forces would not reach him by the time darkness fell tonight so would only be good for cleaning up after the battle was already decided. The vampire might not have factored in the extra men he had in this helicopter though and Carter hoped that they would be enough to swing the coming battle in his favour.

He turned his mind to the attack. The report had been sketchy at best, their radio technology was nothing like it had been two years ago. They had received a brief transmission saying they were being attacked and then nothing. Too many masts had either been destroyed or sat idle without power. The report had come from the plant supervisor who was in the process of organising a patrol to go out and see what damage had been done. Their lead technician was also with them to determine the extent of the leakage. He had tried numerous times for an update but all he received was static. He forced himself not to activate his internal radio and urge the pilot to hurry. It wouldn’t do any good and would only reveal his nervousness to his men. It was imperative that he command their respect in this crisis. His mind raced in sympathy with the screeching engines. He had no idea how to control a nuclear spill. He had to hope that this technician was capable of limiting the effects of the spill or working the plant would become very dangerous, if not impossible.

He would have to respond to this attack. Something that would strike into Von Kruger’s power base as effectively as this attack had done to him. A sudden idea came to him and he leaned forward to the Sergeant with a cold grin on his face. There was only one thing that the vampires needed above all else. Humans. He would show Von Kruger the consequences of such an attack if he had to kill every last human in his territory.

Von Kruger listened to the report with growing unease. His meeting with Carter had not gone as he had planned. His anger had consumed him as he had spoken with the human. In fact, it was all he had been able to do to force himself to leave before he tore the human apart. Not that that would be so terrible, but it did not suit him to have a war with the thralls at this time. He had to find and destroy the humans first. Their weaponry was far too dangerous to allow anyone else to control it. He would handle the thralls when it suited him.

He still didn’t know why his control of his temper was so tenuous lately. He knew he had always been hot-headed, but this was something different. He had lost himself to the violence against Wentworth. He could not now recall a single coherent thought from that whole debacle. That had never happened to him before and his loss of control, while it had worked in his favour that time, left him worried that the next time he might not be so lucky. He had survived for hundreds of years through guile and cunning. There was no way he could survive the coming battles if he continued to lose himself to his anger.

And now Carter and a sizable force had packed themselves into a helicopter and flown north in a hurry. The thralls had not used the flying machines since the war had ended. There were just too costly to keep in the air. Why use them now? What was most worrying was that they had travelled while it had still been dark. Why would he take such a risk? Was Carter so confident that he did not consider the vampires a threat, even at night? No, he answered his own question, Carter was no fool. If something had forced him to fly north by night, then it was something that was worth taking such a personal risk.

The humans! The thought jumped into his mind. He must have found the humans. Did he know of their weaponry? That would certainly explain the mad risk he was taking in using the helicopters at night. If he gained control of the humans’ weaponry…he had to stop him. He surged to his feet and called for his aides. He would have to gather his forces and head north. It was too late now to travel with the sun already rising; but they could prepare. They must be ready to move as soon as the light began to fail. If he was lucky, it would be a cloudy day and they could leave before dusk.

“His name is Trevor Atkins.”

“My God.” Harris suddenly recalled the heart-breaking walks with one of the young boys in the community as they had walked the long line of dead bodies from the train after the last rescue. The thralls hadn’t cared where their bullets had gone and some of their shots had torn through the tightly packed prisoners in the rail cars. Sometimes a bullet had ripped through a number of bodies before finally lodging in some poor unfortunate’s flesh.

The young boy, Peter, he now recalled his name, had handled it all stoically, but Harris had felt for the boy. None of the faces they had examined had been peaceful in death. It was too much for anyone to go through, especially a young boy of eleven. They hadn’t found his family and Harris hadn’t been too sure if that had been the best result. If they had found them, at least the boy would have been able to grieve and then move on. Could this possibly be…?

Sandra looked over at him with a quizzical frown.

“We have a boy, Peter, back at…”

“Peter.” The man suddenly became agitated. His eyes were still unfocused like many of those in serum withdrawal, but the name had certainly sparked a memory in the man. “Peter,” he repeated and then began to trail away.

“Yes.” Harris knelt beside the man. “We have a Peter Atkins in camp. Brown hair, eleven years old, blue eyes…” Harris tried to recall something more but the man suddenly snapped out a hand and gripped his arm tightly.

“Peter is alive.” Tears began to stream down his glazed eyes. “Thank God. Is he here?”

“No, but he’s safe,” Harris replied. “We’ll take you to him. We’re on our way there now.”

“No.” The man suddenly grew frantic. “We have to go back. The plant…” He trailed off again as the serum fought for control again.

“What about the plant?” Harris felt a cold fist grip his heart. Was the man rambling or was there a real problem with the nuclear plant? The man still wore a white lab coat, though it was caked with mud. It was a very real possibility that he had worked in the plant, though what he was doing in the food cage was beyond him.

Atkins seemed to ignore him for a maddeningly long time, and then he suddenly spoke again. “The coolant needs to be brought online. Warren doesn’t know…” He trailed off again,

“What doesn’t Warren know, Trevor? What are you saying?” Harris felt the fear spread through him.

“Procedures aren’t enough. Plant will blow if…” Atkins suddenly slumped forward, exhausted from the fight against the serum.

Harris sighed and squeezed the man’s arm gently as he rose to face the others who had gathered around him. At least those who were not too badly injured.

“We can’t ignore this,” he began as he scanned the faces in front of him. “Too many are injured for us all to go back, so we’ll have to split up.”

“No,” Sandra said firmly, already knowing what was about to happen.

“Sandra, we have no choice,” Harris insisted.

“Jackson, Ricks and Franklin are just too badly injured and will only slow us down.”

“What do you hope to achieve?” Denis Jackson asked from behind the gathered crowd. There was a thick bandage around the man’s head but he was still too dizzy to stand up.

“What do you mean?” Harris asked.

“Are you just going to walk up to the thralls and ask them to let you go in and stop the plant from exploding?”

Harris stopped for a minute as he considered the question. It was certainly valid. The thralls would probably just shoot him before he got the chance to open his mouth.

“We can’t ignore the possibility…” Harris began but Jackson interrupted before he could complete his sentence.

“Of course we can,” Jackson winced as he tried to get to his feet. “We have no way of knowing if this guy is a technician or merely some sad fool with an overactive imagination.”

“But if the plant blows …”

“Yeah. If it blows then the thralls have no power. Big deal. What’s the big problem? We’re far enough away…”

“No.” The word was spoken quietly but everyone stopped and looked over toward Ricks who lay on the ground with bandages covering most of his body. The boy was pasty, his skin almost translucent, and his voice was weak, but there was a firm tone that commanded everyone’s attention. “The fallout would spread out to us in a matter of weeks. It would poison the crops, the water…” he paused as took a shuddering breath. “We can’t let the plant blow,” he managed and then fell into an exhausted sleep.

Everyone remained silent for a time as Rick’s message hit home.

“I still don’t see what you can do.” Jackson shrugged. “But I’m willing to go with you anyway.”

“Oh no you’re not, Denis Jackson,” Delilah interrupted. “And how exactly do you intend to help if you can’t even walk?” She looked over at Sandra for support and Sandra nodded her agreement.

“But I can…”

“You can sit there and keep quiet while we discuss our plans,” Delilah snapped and then turned back to Harris. “I, of course, will come with you. I’m one of the few who didn’t just stand in the line of fire like Butch Cassidy over there.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Jackson fumbled to his feet and then swayed dangerously for a moment before grabbing onto a nearby rock to steady himself. “If I can’t go, then neither can you.”

Harris actually managed a smile as he looked at Delilah’s flushed face and held up his hand to cut off her reply before the fight really got heated. “Thank you, Delilah,” he began, “but I can’t use you. I need to move quickly and only have room for three others. I need Warkowski to cover our backs. Warnback and Mendez both have experience in military manoeuvres.” He looked at her and shrugged apologetically. He had hoped his reasoning would take the sting out of the rejection and, to her credit; she didn’t pursue it any further. She merely moved over to Jackson and helped him back to a sitting position. Neither said a word to the other but her gentle touch while she helped him get comfortable spoke volumes.

“It always has to be you, doesn’t it?” Sandra had come up behind him. She kept her voice low so their conversation remained private.

Harris looked at her and wanted to reach out, to explain why it always had to be him. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t find the words.

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed.

“So am I,” she replied sadly and moved off toward Ricks to check on him. Harris was left staring at her as the other three came up behind him with their packs already on their backs.

“Okay,” he said as he tore his eyes away from the back of Sandra’s head. “Two of you grab the stretcher,” he indicated the sleeping form of Trevor Atkins. “We’ll take turns along the way.”

Damn him, Sandra Harrington thought as she changed the bandages on Ricks’ shoulder. She forced herself to concentrate on what she was doing and not to look around at Harris. She had been forced to say goodbye so many times that she couldn’t face another one. It just wasn’t fair. And now he was off to stop a nuclear plant from exploding, regardless of the thirty thralls that guarded the place. What was he thinking? She felt annoyed, betrayed and embarrassed for feeling that way all at the same time.

Of course, with Harris and the others gone, that left those who remained with a huge problem. There was only April, Joshua and Delilah to carry three injured men back to the cave. There weren’t enough of them to carry three stretchers, so one of the injured would have to walk. Harris just didn’t consider those details; she fumed as she tied off the bandage. Well, Ricks certainly wouldn’t be walking anywhere for a while and Ben Franklin was too weak. In any case, the bullet lodged in his shoulder would grate too much if he walked. So that left Jackson. A man who couldn’t even stand straight without holding on to something for support. And he had volunteered to go back to the plant. “Men,” she cursed under her breath. ‘Heroes and lovers’. She had read that somewhere. She thought for a few moments but couldn’t recall where. Whoever wrote it had the right idea, though. That was all they were good for.

She turned back to the camp and looked at those who remained. They all looked to her for guidance, and for some reason their expectant faces made her angry. Why couldn’t they think for themselves? Why can’t someone else take charge? She thought bitterly and then suddenly stopped. My God! Is this how Peter feels?

She looked to where Harris and the others were already reduced to small specs in the distance. Maybe she had been too harsh, she realised. She wished she had at least said goodbye. She looked back to the others and sighed. God, please keep him safe, she prayed and then took a deep breath.

“Okay, people, let’s get moving. We’ve a long way to go.”

“How long do we have to carry the bugger?” Al Warnback complained as the pain in his arms grew worse.

“Until he’s able to walk by himself.” Harris smiled as he took a reading and altered their direction slightly. Warnback sneered at him in reply and continued to mutter to himself.

Harris ignored him. He was still wondering whether using the truck they had abandoned was worth the risk. It was too bright for vampires at this hour, but what about the thralls? It was probably fair to assume that anyone going to the site of the spill was already there or would use the main roads. If they kept to the dirt tracks they would only have to worry about the dust they threw into the air. That, however, was a major consideration. The dust trail would be seen for miles and would announce their presence as surely as writing their intention in the sky.

But it would save them over six hours walk, more if Atkins remained too weak to walk. Of course, it was possible that the thralls would assume that the trail was from a thrall patrol. After all, what kind of madman would come back to the plant after causing a nuclear waste spill? If they only used the truck until they got to within five miles of the plant then they could travel the rest of the way on foot. He considered that for a moment. Was he pandering to his own sore feet and the complaints of his men, or did that actually make sense?

Fuck it, he thought. If we don’t get there in time then it won’t matter either way.

Chapter 21

Tanya felt light-headed as the blood continued to pump from her veins. The container on the shelf was only half full but already she felt tired and lethargic. God, if they take that much there’s no way I’ll be able to walk, let alone run from here, she realised bitterly. The whole plan was dependant on her being able to get away from her guard; either while he was trying to violate her or while he was spent afterwards. Either way she would have to be able to run. There just wasn’t time for her to recover her strength. “Shit,” she muttered as she tried to think of some way to reduce the amount of blood they took. She had to create a diversion of…

Suddenly the door slammed open and the feeble light of dawn pushed against the gloom of the interior but made little headway into the room. She saw a tall figure silhouetted in the doorway but couldn’t see clearly who it was. It didn’t matter; she took her chance. She pulled the tubes from her arm as the thrall guard was distracted and stifled a cry as the metal tore from her flesh. Immediately she began to bleed onto the floor but she tore at her shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound. Not perfect but it would do for now. She risked a glance over the cubicle wall and saw the thrall guard walk uncertainly toward the figure, voicing a question as he walked.

The figure suddenly shifted from the doorway to a position beside the thrall in a blink of an eye. A vampire, she thought just before the creature reached over and wrenched the thrall’s head sharply to the left and a loud crack filled the small room.

The vampire looked over at her and she felt fear overwhelm her. Were they mad? To have thought they could actually take on these creatures. He had moved so fast. Even the thrall didn’t have a chance.

“If you’re going to run, then you’d better get a move on.” The vampire smiled and then simply moved to the door and disappeared out into the brightening sky. The dark clouds kept the deadly sunlight at bay, but the vampire still moved quickly and suddenly she was alone. It took her a few seconds to realise that, for some reason, a vampire had given her the opportunity and the time she had so desperately prayed for. She had no idea why. There must be some in-fighting between the vampires. Not that it mattered, one master was as bad as another. Either way, she had her chance and was determined to grab it with both hands.

She rushed toward the others and ripped the tubes form the first two and shook them awake, instructing them to free the others and make their way out. They would all meet up later, miles from here if all went well. She looked back at the slowly moving pair she had freed and despaired. They were so slow. She almost turned back but she forced herself to stop. She had done all she could for them. It was up to them if they wanted to survive. Her children were depending on her and she would not let them down. She turned and wrenched the door open. A blast of cold air hit her and wiped away the last of the cobwebs in her head. Snow had begun to fall and the flakes seemed somehow strange in their brightness against the dark of the clouds above her.

Help from a vampire and snow in California in spring. What’s next? she wondered as she began to run. Maybe Santa Claus will sweep down and rescue us all.

The hour before dawn was a good time for an escape. The vampires were about to retire and the thralls tended to relax as their masters disappeared for the daylight hours. In this weather, too, they tended to gravitate to the warmth of their quarters and left the patrolling to those stupid enough to remain on station, which, luckily in this case, were few and far between. She made it to her former cage without seeing one thrall and quickly pulled at the door. Some of the people inside noticed her and began to shout for her to hurry. They were making far too much noise in their excitement and she could see Josh Harris and a number of others desperately trying to keep them quiet as she worked.

The gate was locked and a huge lock bulged in the centre. There was no way she could prise it off, even if she had a bar of some sort. She would have to find the key. She turned and ran back toward the nearest guardhouse. Many of the people in the cage thought she was leaving for good and began to cry out, cursing and begging her to return in the same breath. She was still twenty feet from the guard station when the door of the barracks was wrenched open and a thrall stomped out into the cold. She dived to the side and only barely managed to hide behind a barrel spewing smoke into the air. This was one of the many such barrels that were provided for the patrols that were meant to be on station to keep them warm. She bit down on her lip and stifled a scream as her back grazed the heated barrel and her skin puckered where the heat seared her.

The guard strode right past her, hunched against the weather and cursing the humans as he made his way toward the cage. Tanya glanced back toward the guardhouse but someone had already closed the door to keep the cold out. She pulled herself to her feet. She hoped that the guard at the cage had a key or the whole thing would have been for nothing. She saw something lying in the dirt around the barrel and she took a moment to examine it more closely.

It was the lid of the barrel that someone had ripped off with such force as to tear the metal. She bent down and picked up the lid. It wasn’t too heavy but it did have a wicked serrated edge that would do nicely as a weapon.

She grimaced as she straightened and the burnt skin rubbed against her clothes. She ignored it and ran toward the thrall. She reached the gate just as the thrall was finishing cursing and threatening the occupants of the cage. He finished his tirade by spitting at them and then turned to go back to the warmth of the guardhouse when Tanya slammed the lid into his head. She had aimed for the back of his head but he had turned toward her more quickly that she had expected and the edge slammed into his face instead. The serrated edge cut deeply into his left cheek and continued on, splitting his nose and rupturing his left eye.

He fell to the ground and began to squeal in pain and terror as he thrashed about in the snow. The light covering of white quickly turned to red around him as he thrashed about and Tanya frantically hit him again and again as she tried to shut him up. If the other thralls came to investigate, they would all be dead.

She brought the lid down again and again, not caring where she struck him, desperate to try and stop his screaming. Finally, he lay still and Tanya stood heaving as she tired to get her breath back. The people in the cage began to urge her on, quietly at first and then the noise began to grow more desperate. She flipped the body over and saw the damage she had inflicted on the guard. Her stomach heaved as it took in the blood and torn features and she retched violently, spewing up the contents of her stomach.

The noise of the people in the cage grew louder and suddenly the guardhouse door opened again and a shout issued from within. She frantically searched the thrall’s body, trying to ignore the terrible damage to his features. Nothing. She continued to search as the people began to cry in despair. Suddenly she heard a shot and she looked up to see the snow in front of her erupt into a small explosion. She looked up and saw thralls spilling from the guardhouse. Shit.

Her hands patted at the thrall’s body again but she was so cold she could barely feel anything. There. Suddenly she felt something hard and grabbed at it. More tufts of snow erupted around her as the thralls continued to fire at her while they ran.

She jumped to her feet and rammed the key into the lock and wrenched it savagely. She sighed in relief as the lock fell away and the door suddenly surged toward her and knocked her away as the people ran blindly out. The thralls kept firing but for everybody that jerked and fell, five more ran past them. Soon the thralls disappeared under the flood of bodies.

Tanya felt a hand on her shoulder and she started in shock until a familiar voice reached her and she calmed instantly.

“Thank you,” Josh Harris said simply as he helped her to her feet. “You saved us all, even if they are too scared to appreciate it.” He smiled at her and then she noticed the others. She looked quizzically at him.

“I thought you were all heading for the hills?”

“We thought that we could give you a few minutes, ‘many hands make light work,’ and all that. We’ll have to hurry, though. This panic will only last so long.”

Tanya felt like kissing the young man in front of her. They were all risking their freedom so they could help her search for her children. She was speechless but decided not to waste their offer.

“Let’s hope that they use the same key for all the cages,” she smiled as she held the key up. She turned and ran toward her children.

Captain William Carter urged the helicopter on as the plant came into sight. Outwardly he forced himself to remain calm and composed, but inside he was desperate to get his feet on the ground. He had to find out about the attack. Had the nuclear waste spilled into the air? Was he already breathing in infected air? Would he win tonight only to die horribly of radiation poisoning later? He had repeatedly demanded updates from the plant as to the status of the spill, but the plant had had no contact with the patrol sent to respond to the SOS since they had left. Had Von Kruger taken out the patrol as well? No. It was daylight. Maybe it was merely the radio signals in the area.

He turned to the pilot and shouted over the roar of the turbines to go back up and follow the patrol’s route and report back either by radio or directly. He then turned and strode toward the plant and the small group of very nervous thralls who waited there for him. The plant’s protectors might be incompetent but he was gratified to see that at least his elite thralls were already moving about the plant, checking the security. He looked up at the sky above and noted the dark clouds rolling in from the north. The air had turned suddenly cold and the sun was already hidden behind the first of the huge banks of cloud. It will be a very short day if that storm comes in, he mused as he reached the small group and began to shout for an update.

Peter Harris slammed on the brakes as he saw a dot in the sky. Why was it coming back? Do they know we’re here? He watched the helicopter grow larger as it closed the distance rapidly. God, if the thralls had enough fuel to run those things more often they’d be screwed. They could cover vast distances and see for miles. The helicopter began to veer off to the north where the main road weaved around the surrounding hills.

“They’re checking on the patrol,” he heard Warkowski mutter beside him and nodded his agreement with the big man.

“They mightn’t know about the explosion, then.” Harris turned the engine off and stepped out of the vehicle. “Come on,” he called to the others. “With that thing up there we can’t risk taking the truck any further. We walk from here.” He ignored the muttered curses and pulled his pack onto his back and stepped out into the light drizzle that had just started.

“Looks like we’re going to get wet on top of everything else,” Warnback complained.

“Be thankful,” Harris laughed. “It’ll keep the radiation from the spill from spreading too far.”

“Won’t help us if the fucking plant blows up,” Warnback muttered but he pulled himself out of the vehicle and started after Harris and the others.

Trevor Atkins, in one of his best periods of lucidity since they had rescued him, insisted he was able to walk on his own. Harris nodded to the man but ordered Carlos Mendez to take the stretchers anyway. He was all too aware of the serum’s debilitating toll. For now, though, the men were happy not to have to carry the scientist. As if to prove his newfound strength, Atkins began his trek by launching into a lecture on the plant and its dangers.

“So my son is really okay?” he asked as he struggled to keep up with Harris’ long strides.

“Yes, Trevor,” Harris sighed at the question. As the scientist had struggled in and out of coherence, his main thought had been for his son. While Harris could understand this, he really needed to know as much about the plant as possible. “He’s fine. We’ll take you to him as soon as we get back, I promise. But, for now, we really need to know about the plant.”

“Oh yes,” he answered, “Of course. You must excuse me; it has been so long since… I have searched …”

“Doc,” Warnback interrupted a little harshly. “We got it. You’re thrilled. Now could we skip to the part about the plant before the horizon lights up and we all sing Halleluiah with the angels?”

Harris was about to intervene but stopped himself. He was as worried as Warnback was. Maybe Atkins needed a firm hand to get as much information from him before the serum took his mind again.

Atkins looked around at the others but nobody jumped to his defence so he sighed and continued.

“You see,” he began, “the plant’s cooling system…”

“Is cooled by feedwater, we know. We’re not bloody amateurs, you know. We have our own expert,” Warnback interrupted. “What we want to know is how likely a meltdown is. In English, mind you, not gibberish.”

Atkins was again taken aback by the man’s interruption, but when the others did not chastise the brute yet again he decided to get to the point.

“Well,” he continued a little breathlessly as the walking began to tire him more quickly that he had expected. “As I told you earlier, the calibre of the technicians currently in the plant…”

“They’re fucking useless. We got it already,” Warnback cursed as he stumbled over a rock. “Listen, doc,” he grinned. “While you might have all day, we are currently walking toward a nuclear reactor that, from what you have already told us, might just blow up in our faces as soon as we get to it. Is it too fucking much to ask for you to tell us how likely it is that we will get there in time and, if we do, whether you are going to be able to shut it down in time?”

Atkins was shocked at Warnback’s words, but he was slowly coming to realise the reality of the situation and what he was asking these men to do. He sighed heavily.

“It depends on what has happened since I was there.” He cringed slightly as if waiting for Warnback to interrupt again, but, when the big man remained quiet, he decided to continue. “I am not sure how long ago I was put back in the pens, but when I left the reactor it had already begun to show signs of strain. The coolant systems are not as efficient as they should be. They need to be,” he paused as he searched for the word, “coaxed a bit.”

“Great,” Warnback interrupted with a bitter laugh, “we’ve got a petulant reactor on our doorstep.”

“It’s not like it was in any danger of a meltdown,” Atkins answered back, defending the plant.

“Unless the plant was suddenly being looked after by a bunch of monkeys who don’t know what they’re doing.”

“But that was never…”

“Don’t mind him,” Harris turned and gave Warnback a severe look, “he has a few character flaws that take a while to get used to. We realise that we’re faced with a situation that no one could have predicted, but what our friend here is trying to find out is whether the plant is likely to blow up or not.”

Atkins thought for a moment as he struggled up a particularly steep incline and puffed a few times before he could continue.

“The plant will not blow up,” he continued with as much indignity as his shortened breath would allow. “What do you thing we are? There are so many procedures that…”

“Then why the fuck are we going back if your precious plant is hunky-dory?”

“It won’t blow up but it might experience a meltdown if we don’t get to it in time.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Harris asked as he called for a halt. The scientist was finding it harder to walk and talk and Harris wanted to know as much as he could about the danger they were walking toward.

Atkins slumped to the ground in relief and then continued after a moment.

“Oh no, not at all. A meltdown is where the reactor core is no longer properly controlled and cooled to the extent that the sealed nuclear fuel assemblies - that’s where the uranium or plutonium and other highly radioactive fission products are - begin to overheat and melt.” He paused, but seeing that no one was interrupting him, he continued on. “The problem is that, if the reactor containment is breached, then the core's highly radioactive and toxic elements can escape into the atmosphere and surrounding environment.”

“How bad would that be?” Warkowski asked as he checked his weapons. “Are we not far enough away?”

“It depends.” Atkins sighed, “No one really knows. It doesn’t happen that often and, whenever it had happened in the past, each case has been wildly different. In Chernobyl, the plume travelled for thirty kilometers and caused many deaths over the years from radiation poisoning. In Three Mile Island though, the core practically melted completely but was contained by some miracle. With no equipment or teams of experts to clean up the mess in this case, there’s really no way of knowing how bad it might become, or even whether the plant will shut down or continue to spew radiation after the meltdown. I suppose if it’s left completely unattended after a meltdown it is possible that it might explode at some time in the future. I just don’t know. However, for now, I would say there is little or no chance of the plant exploding for some time, even if a meltdown occurs”. Atkins paused as he looked at those around him. “Unless, of course, someone starts shooting carelessly and destroys critical systems.” He looked pointedly at Warnback, who shrugged.

“I showed the people at the plant what to do to keep it under control,” he continued, “but it is a complex procedure and needs to be alternated depending on where the issues arise. If they continued to perform the same tasks regardless of the symptoms, then it is likely that they are already seeing the cooling system go into the red.”

“What timeframe are we talking about?” Harris pressed the scientist as he recognised the glazed look coming back into his eyes. He signalled for Mendez and Warnback to put the scientist onto the stretcher. Atkins tried at first to resist and then suddenly collapsed into the stretcher with a sigh. “Once the system begins to red-line, it would take a day or two for it to go too far that a meltdown becomes a real possibility. You understand; it was never envisioned that there would be no one there to monitor it…” He trailed off and the others looked at each other. Warnback was about to say something but a withering look form Harris shut him up. Suddenly Atkins rose up in the stretcher and shouted. “You have to get me to the controls so I can shut…” and then he collapsed back onto the stretcher and squirmed restlessly as the men struggled to keep him from falling off.

“Fucking marvellous,” Warnback muttered.

Moving the former prisoners was proving far more difficult than Sandra had expected. She had hoped that, once they had started walking, that the serum junkies would plod along in a relatively straight line. Unfortunately, some of them continuously broke ranks and walked aimlessly in any direction that took their fancy. When she stopped the main group and went to gather them in, some of the others took the opportunity to wander off or simply slumped to the ground and fell into a coma-like trance. They had travelled no more than half a mile in two hours and already her wounded were showing signs of deterioration.

In fact, the only thing that was going in her favour was the fact that the sun had gone in behind heavy cloud cover. But, by their appearance, this good fortune might very well be short-lived. A storm was something that she really did not need. The roads they travelled on were covered in thick, dry dust, and a heavy rainfall would turn them into treacherous mud that would grind them to a halt for certain.

Were they far enough away if the plant blew? Did it even matter? If Peter died in that plant, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go on anymore. She was tired and scared, both physically and emotionally, and she really couldn’t tell anymore if they were helping these poor wretches or not. Would it be so terrible to just walk away? Could she walk away and ignore Pat Smyth’s dire warnings? She was too tired to think. Too tired to care if the plant blew and killed them all. She looked around at her charges and sighed heavily. She knew she couldn’t walk away now. It wasn’t in her to abandon others, and she cursed herself for her weakness. These people depended on her. She couldn’t give up now. She would see them safely back or die trying. She pulled herself to her feet and winced at the pain in her muscles.

But once they were safe. Then she would have to re-evaluate the situation.

The snow was heavier now and Tanya couldn’t feel her toes anymore. The dawn had come and gone and the sun was already high in the sky, but it was still dark. Thick, heavy clouds roiled above her like snakes in a pit and threw the whole camp into darkness. Would the vampires risk coming out? The thought struck her like a slap and she forced herself to keep going. If the vampires came out, she was dead anyway, so she might as well keep going. Her children were just ahead of her. She couldn’t stop now. Josh Harris ran beside her as well as two others that she had never seen before. Why would they risk their lives and their freedom for her? Of course, she reminded herself, it wasn’t for her that they were doing it. It was because Harris had asked them. Who was this guy? She wondered as she ran. How can anyone command such loyalty?

The others had gone to help the rest of the prisoners escape. They were already too late to stop the initial surge from running straight for the path she herself would have gone for before Harris had pointed out that the thralls would anticipate such a move. She could see Harris’ men try to stop the panicked mob and direct them to the other, less obvious route. Some stopped and listened, most did not. She couldn’t let that distract her though. She had to get to her children.

Suddenly she was at the gate and her heart pounded as she tried to get the key into the lock with fingers frozen by the cold. All around her she heard screaming and shouting and the sharp crack of gunfire as the thralls tried vainly to stop the escape. Already bodies littered the clearing, but far more were already surging over the rubble to freedom – she hoped.

She heard a click and the lock suddenly dropped away. She felt relief flood through her. They did use the same locks. She had hoped that they would be lazy enough to have one key for all locks, but now that the door was suddenly open in front of her, she couldn’t go in. What if they’re not here? No, they have to be. I saw Emily. Didn’t I?

“Come on, we don’t have much time.” Harris gently but firmly helped her past the gate, and then she was in and her paralysis broke.

“I’m fine,” she assured him and then raced off to the left, scanning the glazed faces around her as she ran. The faces meant nothing to her. She didn’t look at them. She was looking for children. There were so many bodies pressed into this prison and she had so little time.

Suddenly there was a high-pitched scream that broke into even her fevered search. She glanced out through the prison walls and she saw three vampires swoop down and tear three hapless people to pieces. The vampires swooped up into the dark sky as if taunting the sun itself as they flaunted their power. The surge to freedom suddenly became a demented flight as people trampled others in their rush to get away from the vampires. People ran everywhere, heedless of where they were going. Most just followed those in front, trusting that they knew where they were going.

The vampires laughed and shrieked their pleasure as they tore into the fleeing humans again and again and left decapitated and bleeding corpses behind them with each attack. Tanya cursed and turned her attention back onto the camp. She heard her name shouted over to her left but she ignored it. There was no way she was leaving without her children. She ran on, the sea of faces blurring in her haste.

There! She raced through a group of five people as she saw the small frame of a child. She barrelled into people and sent them sprawling to the ground, but she didn’t care. The child was facing away from her but the build was right. The hair was long, as everyone’s was, but the figure was definitely male. She grabbed the child and wrenched it toward her. “Mark,” she cried out, her heart beating fiercely. It wasn’t him. She pulled the child to her regardless, her automatic instinct to protect a child taking over. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Where were they?

She grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him behind her as she pushed her way through the press of bodies.

“Tanya!” The shout was closer but she ignored it. Harris would only make her leave. What if he had found them, though? Her mind raced. Dare she answer him and risk being pulled away? She pushed on. Faces streamed past her as she pushed her way on. Screams filled the night outside the prison as the vampires’ numbers grew. She looked up briefly and saw six of them in the air now. Shit. Where are they?

Red curls. Did she see red curls or was it a trick of the pale light? She pushed forward and then, suddenly, her arm was caught by a grip that made her pull up short.

“Tanya, we have to go,” Harris screamed at her as she tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.

“Let me go!” she screamed, frantic. “I see Emily. I see her.”

Harris hesitated for a second and she took her chance. She wrenched her arm free and raced through the bodies. “Take care of the boy,” she shouted behind her and then disappeared.

“Shit,” cursed Josh Harris. He watched the space where Tanya had been a second before suddenly fill with shuffling bodies. He looked down at the boy and took his hand with surprising gentleness. “Come on, then,” he said to the near comatose boy. “Let’s go find the crazy bitch.”

He had suspected that she would do this but had been prepared to take the chance. He hadn’t factored in the vampires coming out though, and that really fucked everything up. He had already sent the other two on. He couldn’t ask them to throw their lives away with the vampires around. He sighed deeply. Women! He pushed his way through the bodies. Women will surely be the death of me.

Kavanagh smiled as he saw the first of the humans gush over the rubble. He had been fairly certain that, if he gave the humans the opportunity, that they would run this way. It was the path of least resistance, after all. The easiest incline and the most obvious. He had certainly been lucky with the weather, though. He had expected to have to wait until tonight to gather up his supply of untainted blood. Now he and his followers could sweep down and whisk them off to his new quarters far from here and have them safely locked away before Von Richelieu was any the wiser.

He thought briefly about searching through the camp for Von Richelieu, but the ancient vampire always slept in a different place each day. He would only waste precious time looking for him with no guarantee that he’d ever find him. He looked up at the sky. The snow was still heavy but he could already see small patches where the sun was beginning to burn through the heavy cover. He would have to seek shelter soon or risk the sun’s caress. He had much to do still though.

The fact that some of Von Richelieu’s brood were in the air didn’t worry him too much. Von Richelieu, or any of his main supporters, were not here. There were only a few vampires that had risked daylight and they were far too busy slaughtering the humans. This might just work out better than he had thought. He had expected to fight for his supply and be forced to expose his treachery far sooner than he would have liked. Now, though, it might just be possible to spirit away enough humans secretly and still come back in time to help with the cleanup and remain a ‘loyal’ subject. Once he had flushed the tainted blood from his system he would then be more confident in taking on Von Richelieu.

All he had to do was take care of those vampires in the air. He had twelve vampires with him. Just like Jesus, he thought, and laughed at his pun. He ordered five of the vampires to continue collecting the humans. They would take them to the cavern they would use to keep them secure. He called the others to him and they launched into the air. They might even be able to take out most of the vampires in the first sweep if they were lucky.

“Remember, no biting and use weapons rather than claws. We must make it look like they were attacked by the humans, or even better, by the thralls.”

Tanya Syn pushed her way through the drugged people heedless of the wake of bodies she left behind her like broken skittles. The faces, skin colour and ragged hair were all different, but they all had two things in common. They all looked through her in a serum-induced glaze and they were all adults. Were all the children dead? She knew she had seen Emily, though. Where could she be?

Snow continued to fall heavily and her body was well past being cold. She wiped a hand across her eyes to clear the tears and she felt the ice tear at her skin where the tears had frozen to her cheek. She stumbled, only barely keeping herself on her feet by grabbing onto the body of an older woman who tottered and fell to the ground without a whimper.

Tanya cursed. Her feet were so cold that she couldn’t walk properly. She hadn’t felt her toes in some time and her feet felt like they were in giant moon boots. Her rational mind tried to convince her that she would serve her children no good if she died here, but her instinct drove her on. She hadn’t held her children in two years and she couldn’t leave them now, whatever the consequences.

There! She saw a glimpse of red curls just ahead. Then they were gone and she shouted out her daughter’s name. Blood pumped through her veins, adding heat to her frozen extremities. She pushed frantically forward, and then suddenly Emily was in front of her. For a moment she was so surprised that she couldn’t move. Her body began to sag with exhaustion as the adrenaline seeped from her muscles, and she began to cry with relief.

Emily had grown in the last two years, her red hair had darkened somewhat and her face now sported a mass of freckles. And then she swept the girl from her feet and hugged her as tight as she could. The girl looked ahead with a glazed indifference and, at one level, she was disappointed that the girl did not somehow recognise her. She knew how debilitating the serum could be but she still felt that their bond would somehow overcome the effects. She struggled to her feet with Emily in her arms and then Josh was beside her.

“I’ve found…”

He grabbed her firmly and forced her to look into his eyes. “We have to go now!” he shouted each word slowly so she would hear him clearly.

“No!” she screamed into his face, “I have to find Mark…”

“Do you want to die here?” His eyes burned with an intensity she hadn’t seen before and she stopped struggling as his words began to filter through her crazed mind.

“But…”

“I will find him and bring him to you,” Josh continued, “but not now. Now we have these two to get to safety before it’s too late.”

Tanya heard his words but the image of Mark as an eight year old was burned in her mind and she couldn’t leave him to the vampires.

“I give you my word, Tanya,” Josh insisted. “But you have to come now. Can’t you see what’s happening out there?”

He forced her to look through the prison walls, and she was shocked to see the number of bodies that littered the clearing.

So many.

She saw the vampires gleefully swoop again and again into the fleeing humans, tearing and ripping in a frenzy of violence and lust. Oh my God.

“We have to go,” Josh insisted again and then pulled her firmly as he pushed his way toward the gate. Every instinct screamed at her to pull away and keep looking for her son, but the shock of so many bodies had knocked some sense into her and she knew that she had to save Emily for now.

I’ll come back for you, Mark. I promise. She didn’t speak the words but she hoped that her thoughts would somehow cross the distance to wherever her son was and give him some comfort. She would be back. If she had to walk through hell to get here, she would be back. She would never rest until she had her family back. She gripped her daughter’s hand in hers and rejoiced on one level that she had found her. But her thoughts were with her young son, and always would be until she held him once again.

Josh finally pushed his way out past the gate and into the clearing with a huge sigh of relief. And then he remembered the vampires and he considered going back in and hiding among the serum junkies. Jesus, what am I doing? He scanned the sky. The clouds were still too heavy for the sun to burn through and the vampires were revelling in their carnage. In fact, the only thing that was in their favour was that the vampires were lost to their lusts. They attacked their prey with no conscious thought. They flew high in the sky and then dropped with shouts of joy into the mass of fleeing humans.

He turned to Tanya and grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes. “Are you with me?” She nodded but he held her firmly. “Tanya, are you with me?” She nodded again, more slowly this time, and Harris could see that the wildness had gone from her eyes. “Stay with me. I can’t come back for you again, Tanya. This is our only chance. Okay?”

“I’m okay,” she whispered and he could see the truth in her eyes. She was devastated in not finding her son, he could tell but she was in control again. He nodded and abruptly turned, picked the boy up into his arms and began to lope toward their escape route. Most of the other humans had already made it to the rubble that surrounded the huge clearing and the space they stood in now was relatively empty. While this let them make good time, it also made them stand out quite a lot as they were heading in the opposite direction than everyone else. Would they be seen…?

He heard a screech that sounded far too close and he dived to the ground on instinct, twisting as he fell to protect the boy. He landed hard but ignored the pain as he felt, rather than saw, the vampire flash past where he had stood a moment before. He rolled, letting go of the boy as he came to his feet.

The vampire shrieked his anger as he soared back into the sky before pivoting slowly and beginning his approach again toward him. The vampires were fast as lightning on the ground, but in the air, they still had to obey basic physics. They could only drop as fast as their weight allowed so Harris waited as the creature drew closer.

He could see the wildness in the creature’s eyes as it drew closer, and, just before it tore into him, he moved. The vampire shrieked in frustration and Harris pushed Tanya and the others ahead of him. “Go!” he shouted. “Get them to safety.” Tanya hesitated for a moment but then nodded and grabbed Emily and the boy and began to run.

The vampire wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t realise that he would not catch his prey from the air. He flowed gracefully back to the ground and Harris watched in amazement as the creature morphed. Wings folded neatly behind him, arms seemed to shimmer and grow from the stumps of its wings. Muscles and bone cracked and broke as the creature regained its human form, and then, in a blur, it was suddenly beside him and smiling wickedly at him.

Harris felt himself flying through the air and, by the time he hit the ground, the vampire was there again, laughing at him. It picked him up again and threw him further back the way he had come. He hit the gate of the prison he had exited only a few minutes ago. Serum-controlled humans still wandered aimlessly around him, seemingly oblivious to what was happening. He rolled away from the gate and cried out as a shard of wood cut deeply into his back.

The vampire strode toward him, laughing. On one level his mind thought about why the creature would play with him like this. Had it never seen a movie? The hero always won. He laughed as he struggled to rise and then collapsed again as the pain sapped at his strength. The creature loomed above him and Harris had just a moment to see Tanya and the children disappear over the rubble mountain in the distance. At least they made it, he thought. He felt the vampire grab him but his mind still worked furiously. There was something about the fact that he could see Tanya at all but …pain suddenly exploded in his back as the shard tore from the gate was driven deeper into his flesh.

He struggled to hold onto consciousness as the waves of pain washed over him, but agony gave him something to focus on and he grabbed at it in desperation. Something was niggling at his mind, something important, but the pain was just too much to concentrate…

Then, suddenly, his mind cleared. The light. Shit, if I can see Tanya…the clouds above began to break apart and the sun’s light filtered through like small lasers, stabbing down and illuminating the carnage around them. The vampire hesitated for a moment as he saw the light and Harris groped at the shard in his back. He missed it the first time as his hands slipped on the blood-soaked wood, but he kept trying. Finally, he managed to get a grip on the sliver and he screamed as he tore the wood from his body. He almost lost consciousness but somehow managed to hold on. The vampire returned his attention back towards him and its mouth seemed to grow huge as it prepared to tear into his throat.

Harris screamed as he drove the wood into the vampire and felt himself falling. The vampire laughed as it looked down at the shard. It had dropped him more from surprise than injury and it plucked the small shaft from its stomach and grinned.

“Did you really think…” it began, but then the clouds above suddenly broke apart and light washed over them. It was weak and there was no heat in the pale sun, but the effect was instantaneous to the vampire. It shrieked and launched itself into the air, changing as it leapt. Flesh began to burn as it flew; boils appeared and burst, only to appear again. The vampire shrieked in pain but it soon flew into an area where the sunlight had not yet reached and it began to heal almost immediately. Harris struggled to his feet and looked up at the sky. Clouds roiled above him like agitated water. There was still no certainty whether the clouds would work for or against him.

He had a reprieve; that was all. He began to run as fast as his wound would allow him, but the vampire dogged his every move. He remained within the light but his route would take him back into a large area of cloud cover soon and the vampire would have him then. He stumbled and fell into the snow and the sudden cold on his wound made him cry out. He pulled himself to his feet and felt the colder air as he passed from the pale light into the cooler shadow. There was still enough light around him to keep the vampire away, but only just, and the rubble in the distance was like a dark mountain in the gloom ahead of him.

There was no way he could make it. The vampire shrieked again, and he was about to curse it for its taunting when he realised that it sounded in pain. Was the sun burning it again? He looked up and stopped in shock. Another vampire was attacking the first. He watched in fascination as the second vampire repeatedly attacked the first with a sharpened pole. The vampire who had stalked him turned in the air to defend itself but the second vampire had the advantage and it pressed it home relentlessly. It didn’t take long before the vampire fell from the sky and landed in a heap on the ground.

Harris watched in awe as the second vampire landed close by and then slowly approached the injured vampire. It looked over at Harris but ignored him. Instead, it walked over to the wounded vampire, raised the pole and drove it firmly down into the creature’s heart.

What the hell is going on? Harris thought as he watched the victorious vampire. For a moment it seemed to consider coming after him but then the sun broke through again and the moment was gone. The vampire launched itself into the air and disappeared into the darkness.

Harris looked at the dead vampire in confusion. A war between the vampires was just what they needed to take the heat off them. He began to stumble toward the rubble again while his mind churned with the implications of this development. He had no idea what was going on, but anything that distracted the vampires was good news for them.

He looked back toward the pens that were still filled with drugged humans and took note of the many bodies that littered the snow-covered ground. Each body was surrounded by a vibrant splash of red that was impossible to miss, even in the dull light. They would return here, he vowed, and when they did it would be the vampires they would leave helpless and bleeding.

Chapter 22

“An explosion?” Carter glared at the thrall with a scowl that had the soldier shaking. “But that’s impossible. Von Kruger wouldn’t…Shit. It hadn’t been the vampire at all; it had been the humans who had attacked the convoy.” The sudden realisation struck him like a slap and his mind struggled to consider the implications.

Fucking humans, he raged. Everywhere I turn those damned bastards are there before me. He forced himself to calm down as he dismissed the hapless messenger who bolted gratefully for the door. Okay, he calmed as he thought through the situation. If the vampires weren’t involved, then it was probably safe to assume that there would be no attack after dark. That was a relief. The waste spill was still a major issue, but at least he didn’t have to worry about the fucking vampires, as well.

The pilot had reported that the explosion had ripped the waste container to pieces so it was safe to assume that the radiation was already airborne. It had begun to rain heavily over an hour ago but there was a strong westerly wind to consider as well. That would carry the cloud right over them. He just didn’t know how far the waste could spread in such weather. Was he already dying of radiation or would the rain keep it localised around the crash? He just didn’t know. He put the thoughts of radiation out of his mind for now. He could address that problem only when he had enough information. For now he had to deal with the humans.

The helicopter was being refuelled so he would leave on it as soon as it was safe to fly in this storm. He had to get away from here as soon as he could. He would, of course, leave his guards here. He could always replace them, but the plant was critical to his power base so he had to keep it protected. The humans would be long gone as well, so it looked like it had been a wasted trip after all. He really had to find the humans, though.

He would devote all his resources when he returned. They were proving far too resilient and troublesome. The thoughts of radiation poisoning again came into his thoughts and he shuddered at the scenes he had seen in movies of the damage it could do. He shivered as he imagined the invisible death that could already be all around him. He called for the pilot and the thrall rushed back into his quarters. He would have to leave here right now, even if it meant taking some risk in the storm.

Peter Harris strained his eyes as he peered through the sheets of rain at the nuclear plant in the fading glow of the afternoon sun. It had taken them longer than he had hoped to get here, carrying Atkins under the deluge of rain that had started some time ago. It was late afternoon and the sun was already beginning to sink back toward the horizon. He scanned the plant with his binoculars and cursed.

“There’s more than before,” he said and offered the binoculars to Warkowski. The helicopter squatted in the centre of the parking lot and he could see a thrall lifting a heavy barrel from the fuel depot toward the aircraft. That would have taken three men to lift, he thought as he marvelled at the thrall’s strength. He continued to scan the plant as he desperately tried to think of a plan that might have some chance of success.

“Okay,” he turned to the other three, “Philip,” he nodded toward Warkowski, “I need you to take up position so that you can clear a path for us.” Warkowski was about to argue when a deep rumble of thunder drowned him out. “I need your eyes and your skill, Philip,” Harris insisted and the big man merely nodded. “Hopefully the storm will drown out the sound of the gunshots and we might just make it in without being discovered.

“And we get to come with you,” Al Warnback smiled as he pulled back the slide on his weapon. “Good, I was getting bored on this trip.” Harris smiled at the man. He might spend all his time complaining, but there was no doubting his courage.

“Okay, we’ll enter from this side, through the fence below us and up to the service door Trevor told us about. Philip, we’ll need the two thralls on the platform below us taken care of before we cut the wire.”

“It will be done,” Warkowski said simply and Harris nodded before turning toward Atkins. “Trevor, this is where you have to make your own way. Are you up to it?”

Atkins gulped but nodded firmly.

“Good, that’s the plan, then.”

“But, how do we get back out?” Atkins asked with a look of confusion.

The men merely looked at the scientist, and, slowly, realisation came to him. He gulped again and nodded.

“Ah, I see. My wife?”

“Sandra and the others will make sure she and the rest of your family get back to your son.”

“Then I too am ready.”

Peter Harris cut through the last of the chain links on the fence and began to push the sides apart. A few years ago the fence had probably been connected up to an alarm system, but it was obvious by the rusting on the metal that no one maintained the outer defences of the plant. Who in their right mind would want to break in?

Thunder rumbled again and Harris thought he could hear a sharper crack that was almost hidden by the noise. He looked up at the ledge above them and saw one of the thrall guards slump forward and disappear over the railing to the ground below. Even in this poor light Warkowski is amazing, Harris thought as he pushed on inside the plant’s outer rim.

Carter listened to the thunder outside. Was that a gunshot? He thought and then chastised himself for being paranoid. There was no good reason for the humans to come back. It must have been his imagination. Something in his mind wouldn’t let him dismiss it, though. The humans had a habit of doing the unpredictable. Maybe he should… “Sergeant,” he called out. “Take a patrol and check out the perimeter. I have a feeling”

“Bastard,” the Sergeant muttered under his breath. “You have a feeling and we get pissed on.”

Harris passed the two bodies and made his way toward the service door. The rain was still pouring down and the clouds had blanketed the sun about fifteen minutes ago. The sun still managed to cast a dull glow on the horizon, but, from where he stood, it was already fully dark. The lights from the plant pushed valiantly against the darkness, but they failed to offer anything more than small pinpricks in the gloom. At least no one can see us, he thought as he wiped away the rain from his eyes. He reached out and gripped the door handle and turned it. It clicked open. He looked back to the others and nodded as he stepped back and let them go in ahead of him. With a quick wave up toward the spot where they had left Warkowski, he ducked inside.

Philip Warkowski followed the men inside through his scope and then took the scope from his eye. He couldn’t see a damn thing anyway so there was no point in straining his eyes. He hated waiting in the rain when he had nothing to occupy his mind. Would the others need him again? Harris had told him to stay here but what good was here on the top of this hill when he couldn’t see anything? He should follow them down. Maybe he could help.

There was no way he was going to return to the Cave and face Sandra Harrington with the news that Harris was dead. He would rather die here than bring that message back. Sure, he was probably already dying of radiation, so it wouldn’t matter if he went down to the others. They were all dead anyway. Weren’t they?

Shit! He cursed to himself. “Damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” he muttered. Finally, he made up his mind and stood up. He’d take the dressing down Harris would give him for breaking orders over this shit any day. He had to do something.

Harris shivered now that they were out of the rain. His dried his hands as best he could and checked his XM8. He signalled for Mendez to check out the corridor to their left and he led the others into the main corridor on the right.

“How far from here?”

“It’s up two floors and across to the other side of the plant, I’m afraid,” Atkins stuttered as his body shook with the cold.

Harris nodded and led the way forward. He hated corridors like this; there were no doors or service hatches along its length. If they were discovered here they would have no chance. Halfway down the corridor he heard the low murmur of conversation and he stopped while he strained to pinpoint their position. He couldn’t tell whether it was on this level or above him, but they did seem to be stationary. They had no choice but to continue on so he signalled ahead and led the way.

They were nearly at the top of the corridor when he heard a shout behind them and he turned. The others were in his way and he couldn’t see anything. He heard a burst of fire and Mendez screamed and then Warnback opened fire down the corridor while he screamed at Harris to continue on.

Harris had no choice; the corridor was too narrow to push past Atkins and move up to help Warnback. They were nearly at the end anyway so he grabbed Atkins and ran on, shouting for Warnback to follow.

“What, and spoil my fun?” he heard Warnback shout back as he continued to fire down the corridor.

Harris reached the end of the corridor and immediately turned and looked back down the corridor. “Come on, Warnback,” he shouted. “We’ll cover you.”

Warnback began to ease backwards but bullets slammed into the floor and walls around him. For a minute Harris thought that he was charmed and that he would make it, despite the heavy fire, but then he heard Warnback grunt and stagger as a round hit him. Somehow he stayed on his feet and continued to fire, reload and fire again as calmly as though he were still on the training ground.

“Get out of here, Harris,” he shouted as he fired down the corridor. “And I want a fucking big statue in my honour if you make it back.” The man staggered as another bullet struck him. This time he fell to one knee but he continued to fire regardless.

Harris wanted to rush forward and help him but he knew he had to go on and try and complete their mission or they would all be dead. He cursed and slammed a hand against the wall in frustration. He grabbed Atkins and pushed the man ahead of him down the corridor. It wasn’t long before the sound of gunfire stopped abruptly. The plant seemed unnaturally quiet as the two remaining men ran toward the control room.

Outside Sergeant Al Robinson heard the gunfire through the downpour and he shouted for his men to head back toward the plant. That bastard Carter had sent them out into the rain on a wild goose chase and had left the control room unguarded. Bloody officers. Two of his men suddenly materialised beside him from the gloom but there was no sign of the third.

“Masters, you bastard, where are you?” he shouted into the night.

Suddenly one of the men beside him was wrenched up into the air so quickly he didn’t make a sound. Robinson’s heart seemed to stop for a moment and then the body of the soldier suddenly dropped to the ground in front of him and remained motionless. He looked at the body and noted that its head was missing. Shit. They’re here; he thought as he grabbed at the remaining thrall and pushed him toward the plant.

The vampires were here.

Von Kruger watched the two thralls run toward the plant and laughed. He wiped at the blood smeared on his mouth and relished the taste of the thrall blood. The rain was so heavy that even his keen vision was affected but he could sense his brothers and sisters around him as they tore the plant’s pitiful defences apart. He called out to them and could sense their response. The scent of blood filled the air and he felt his veins singing as the fresh blood coursed through him. It was time to take care of this Carter once and for all.

Harris followed Atkins as they raced though the corridors. He hoped the scientist knew where he was going. He heard more gunfire, and for a moment, thought that Warnback must still be alive. He stopped but the gunfire seemed further away than before. It’s outside, he realised. What are they firing at out there?

Carter paced around the control room. Around him numerous lights were flashing red and he saw a number of dials pushing into areas marked in red. That can’t be right.

“You,” he shouted at a young woman in a white lab coat. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I …I don’t know,” the woman stammered.

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know!” he screamed at her incredulously. “Fix it.”

“I can’t!” the woman shouted back and he could see the wild panic in her eyes. “Jake Warren was killed today and he was the…”

“Are you telling me that the only one who knew…oh shit?” He mind raced frantically. Suddenly a red light began to sweep quickly around the room, casting a red glow like a demented lighthouse. He had to get out of here. Gunfire erupted outside. “What the fuck is going on?” he screamed as he began to lose control. He grabbed a thrall guard and shoved him toward the door. “Find out what that gunfire is about.” It can’t be the vampires, his mind raced. There is no reason for them to be here. Shit. “Where’s my pilot?”

The pilot thrall stood up and approached him.

“Get the chopper ready.” Carter screamed at him.

“Sir, the storm…”

Carter slapped at his hip and brought up his pistol and aimed it at the thrall. “Get the chopper ready now.” Carter could hear the panic in his own voice but he didn’t care. He had to get out of here.

The thrall nodded soberly and disappeared out the door.

“You,” he shouted at the woman. “There must be something you can do.”

“Nothing that helps.” she began to cry with the tension of the moment. “Nothing I do seems to work. We have to get out of here.”

“At least turn off that fucking light!” he shouted as he glanced around at his remaining thrall guards. Everything was falling apart. Suddenly his Sergeant burst through the door. He was drenched and his face was deathly pale.

“Sir,” he gasped as he stumbled forward. “It’s the vampires. They’re here.”

Harris heard the thrall Sergeant and cursed. He had just been about to reveal his position when the Sergeant had come in, but now the room was in turmoil and everyone was on edge. He was likely to be shot before he could make himself heard unless he could create a diversion. He looked back at Atkins but the scientist was looking in terror at the controls.

“Oh my God,” he gasped. “It might already be too late.”

Suddenly Atkins ran forward before Harris could stop him and rushed to the control panel.

The thralls turned toward him and one of them fired before Harris rushed forward and shot the thrall who had fired. Others now fired toward Harris and he fired back to keep them off balance. The noise was deafening in the small room and bullets ricocheted dangerously. Despite the panic in the room, Harris shouted as he tried to make himself heard over the bedlam.

“He can fix the plant!”

He saw Carter shout for the thralls to cease-fire and, for a moment, everyone stood and looked at each other while the red light continued to sweep relentlessly around the room. A few of the controls on the panel had been hit by stray bullets and their exposed wires sparked ominously. Behind Harris pipes spat steam viciously into the room from where they had been damaged by bullets. Shit, that won’t help any, Harris thought as he looked at the thralls. Everyone in the room stood still as if rooted in place as they looked nervously around them. Everyone except Atkins. He worked furiously at the panel as he muttered under his breath. He clicked switches, pushed levers and continued to mutter all the time. Harris wondered idly if he was praying.

“Can I know who you are?” Carter asked as he kept his pistol trained on the human with the weapon.

The human looked at him and grinned. “Captain Carter, I assume.”

“It’s General, actually,” he sneered back, “but you have me at a disadvantage.”

“It’s not the first time,” the human responded and Carter had to force himself not to pull the trigger. “You!” he shouted over at Atkins. “You by the panel. Can you fix it?”

Atkins ignored him and as he dashed around the room.

“I’m speaking to you,” Carter raised his voice.

“Leave him alone if you don’t want to whole plant going up,” the other human snapped at him and he found himself lost for words for a moment. He knew he had to regain the upper hand but he could not afford another mad melee.

His embarrassment was spared by the door behind him suddenly being ripped from its hinges. All eyes turned toward the door in time to see Von Kruger enter and look about him.

“Ah, the gang’s all here, I see, How convenient.”

Harris saw the vampire and knew that any hope of reason had just died. He dove for the corner and slid behind a generator. Bullets followed him and slammed into the metal while he huddled behind his meagre cover. He released the cartridge in the XM8 and groped behind him for another. He checked for the patch of tape that marked it as one of the ones containing the ‘special’ bullets and slammed it home.

“No, no,” he heard Atkins shout over the gunfire. “You’ll hit the…”

Harris rushed out from the cover just in time to see the scientist slump forward and fall to the ground. He poured fire at the thralls and saw two of them clutch at wounds and howl with pain. Harris rolled toward Atkins and caught a brief glimpse of the vampires ignoring the bullets as they calmly approached the thralls. Bullets slammed into them but they pushed though and swiped at the thralls with their vicious claws. The smell of blood filled the small room and the red light cast an eerie blood-hued glow on the whole scene like something from hell. Suddenly a klaxon screeched into life and more steam began to emerge from other points where bullets had lodged in the piping. It was like a mad Hammer movie with mist swirling around them all. But this mist was caused by escaping steam that was better served cooling the plant’s core.

Harris put three bullets into one of the vampires and rushed toward Atkins. He had to see if the scientist could pull the core back form the brink…or was it already too late? He was too occupied to notice that the gunfire had stopped.

Carter watched in horror as his men were torn apart by the vampires. They were unstoppable. Suddenly two of his men were hit by bullets from the human’s weapon and they went down screaming. He frowned. He had seen his thralls take far worse hits that that and still laugh it off. And then it hit him.

I have to get that weapon.

Von Kruger watched the carnage around him and savoured the rich scent of blood in the air. He let his brood handle the thralls as he sought out the human. He saw the human roll from cover and shoot at one of his brood. Suddenly the vampire stopped and began to clutch at itself. A cry ripped from its throat as it began to tear at its flesh in great chunks as it tried to rip the bullets form its body.

Von Kruger ignored the vampire. He had to disarm that human. He was the only real threat here.

Harris rolled Atkins over and saw the blood pumping from chest. It was too late. Around him the red light was joined by a screeching wail that grated on his nerves. Pressured steam gushed from pipes that had been damaged by stray bullets and the room began to fill with steam.

“It’s too late,” Atkins managed to speak before he coughed up blood. “It was already too late before we got here. There isn’t much…”

Atkins died in his arms and Harris cursed the stupidity of the situation. They could all have made it back to the Cave by now if he hadn’t forced them to come back. Atkins would even now be holding his son in his arms. If only he hadn’t…

Suddenly Harris was grabbed from behind and was thrown across the room. He hit the wall hard and fell to the floor. He tried to rise but he slipped on the blood on the floor.

“Leave him!” one of the vampires shouted as the other vampires closed in. “I will take care of this one.”

Harris still had his weapon and he brought it to bear on the vampire.

“No, you won’t,” he shouted as he pulled the trigger. There was only one bullet in the chamber and it fired true and caught the vampire high in the chest. For a moment everybody stood looking at Von Kruger, and then the vampire began to grind his teeth as he brought his hand to his chest in a claw. He drove his hand deep into the flesh, closed it, and then pulled a chunk of flesh from its body. He never uttered a sound all the while, and Harris felt true fear as the vampire dropped the flesh and the bullet to the floor.

He felt a hand slap his shoulder and he felt himself being pulled to his feet.

“Quick, I have a helicopter. Move.”

Harris looked at Carter with confusion, but there was no point in staying here. He followed the thrall out the door and into the rain.

Carter grabbed at the human and made sure he was following. He had only wanted the human’s weapon, but, with no bullets in the weapon, it was now useless. His only hope now was to make the human tell him the secret of the bullets. He didn’t know if the helicopter could out-fly the vampires, but he wasn’t going to stay here and be torn apart. The image of Von Kruger ripping his own flesh was still fresh in his mind and he shuddered. What kind of creature can do that without uttering a sound? Just what am I dealing with?

Von Kruger stood and let the pain wash over him. The pain from the bullet had seared through him with an intensity he had never felt before. Even the act of ripping his own flesh had not hurt as much as that initial penetration, though it had been close.

He longed to race after the human and tear him apart for causing him such pain, but he could not move. It had taken everything he had not to cry out and he could tell that his brood were in awe of him. That was good. He would need their devotion if he was to wipe out these humans. He looked around the room. The red light was distracting and the howling of the siren was painful to his sensitive ears, but he let it all wash over him. He had no idea what was going on but it did not concern him. Only the human mattered. In a few minutes he would again be able to move and then he would give chase.

Harris stumbled through the rain after Carter. The wind whipped at him and the rain lashed against his face. The storm had grown worse and the sky lit up with sparks of lightning as the thunder threatened to deafen him. Ahead he could barely hear the thump of the rotors. It was taking a huge risk flying in this weather, but it was certain death to stay. There wasn’t really a choice. He saw Carter disappear into the helicopter and he reached out and grabbed at the door and pulled himself after the thrall.

Once inside, the craft lifted immediately and he was thrown to the side as the pilot struggled to keep control. He began to struggle into a seat opposite Carter when the thrall grabbed him by the collar and a knife suddenly appeared at his throat.

“The bullets,” he shouted over the straining engine. “What are they? Why do they do so much damage?

There was no point in trying to struggle against the thrall. He was far stronger, so Harris pretended that he couldn’t hear while he tried to see if there was anything he could use as a weapon within reach. He couldn’t see anything. Carter repeated his question as he leaned further in and Harris snapped his head forward with all his strength. Surprise was his only hope. Pain exploded in his forehead and his head swam dangerously as his vision suddenly went out of focus. But the thrall let him go and brought his hands to his nose as he screamed in frustration and pain.

The pilot shouted something but Harris ignored him as he pressed his advantage and raked at the thrall’s eyes. Unfortunately, the helicopter swung violently against a sudden gust and his hands merely grazed the thrall’s cheek. Then Carter was on him again with a wildness that seemed to glaze his eyes.

The helicopter bucked again as it was carried helplessly on another gust, and Carter was sent sprawling across the small area. Harris kicked out but missed, and his foot crashed painfully into a fire extinguisher on the back wall. The extinguisher flew out of sight and then Carter was back on top of him, his fists pummelling relentlessly.

Harris felt blackness crawl slowly over him. He prayed for unconsciousness to take him. At least then the pain would stop. But it didn’t stop. It went on and on until Carter heaved breathlessly above him. He couldn’t see the thrall anymore, his eyes were too swollen for that, but he could hear him. Even over the screeching of the engine he could hear the wheezing of the thrall as he tried to regain control of his anger.

“Bastard,” he heard the thrall curse. “You will tell me what I want to know eventually,” he screamed at him and Harris tried to feign unconsciousness but couldn’t help groaning in pain and the thrall was not fooled.

“Where do I get those weapons you use?” Carter screamed at him and Harris felt another blow as the thrall struck him again.

Suddenly he heard the thrall grunt in pain and the pressure on his throat abruptly disappeared. He forced his eyes open and saw a dark shape pull itself inside the cab of the helicopter. The figure was drenched and there was little light in the helicopter so Harris had to squint to try and see more clearly. Lightning suddenly cut through the dark clouds outside and, for a moment, light burst into the small compartment. Warkowski. How the fuck did he get here? Harris watched the big man pull himself forward and bring his massive arm down on Carter. The thrall was slammed against the far wall and Harris took another moment to catch his breath as Warkowski threw himself after the thrall.

“Just can’t obey orders, can you?” Harris muttered as he pulled himself forward to help Warkowski.

Von Kruger pushed hard against the wind. His muscles strained against the force of the storm and around him his brood gathered to give chase. They had easily taken care of the thralls in the plant but he had to find that human with the bullets that caused so much damage. His shoulder throbbed in pain as a reminder of the power of this new weapon. With any normal wound he would have already healed at this stage, but the area where he had torn his flesh from his body had not even begun to heal. At some level he knew now that it probably never would and the pain in his shoulder would remain with him to remind him never to underestimate the humans again.

He concentrated on the horizon in front of him. The thrall and the human were a long way ahead, but he knew where they were going so the distance was unimportant. He would catch up with them before the dawn came. He would discover the secret of this new weapon and then the territory would be his. With such a weapon there was no limit to what he could achieve. He fought against the pain and urged his brood on.

Carter had already recovered enough to stop Warkowski’s momentum by swiping blindly at him and he caught the big man a glancing blow to his shoulder. The thrall was so strong that Warkowski was sent perilously close to the open doorway. He tried to pull himself back but his arm was caught inside a strap and he wasted precious seconds trying to free himself. Shouting in victory, Carter pressed his advantage and launched himself at the struggling man.

Harris threw himself between the two figures and caught the thrall with his shoulder, sending Carter tumbling against the pilot’s seat and sending the helicopter into a dangerous lurch. The three figures were tossed around the small space, and then the night suddenly erupted in bright light again.

At first Harris thought it was more lightning, but the roar that followed it was not thunder. The light remained bright far longer than lightning could possibly manage, and Harris felt his heart sink as the helicopter was caught up in the blast wave and was thrown forward at a ferocious speed.

Too late! He thought before the darkness swept up and pulled him down.

The sky suddenly lit up with a weird, sickly glow that felt unclean to Von Kruger. Beside him one of his vampires suddenly stopped flying and screeched in pain. An intense, white flame surged through the air, sucking his breath from him. The vampires around him all began to scream. He looked around him as their flesh began to melt away from their bones.

A roar filled his ears and threatened to make him deaf. But over it all he could still hear his brood screaming as their flesh was seared from their bodies. He felt himself fall and his own flesh began to burn as he was enveloped by the flames that gushed up toward him. These were not normal flames, though. There was something unclean about them. Something that rotted his flesh even before the flames seared it. The pain was incredible. His body tried to heal but the radiation was too strong and the flames too hot, too intense. The flesh where the strange flame seared did not heal, instead the flesh blackened and began to rot.

He had lived for centuries, but it still had not been enough time to achieve all he had wanted. He clung to life, preferring the agony of the moment to the unfeeling void of death. His eyes burst in the flames and his flesh began to fall away and still he fought against the flames.

And then a strange thing happened. His body stopped trying to heal the damage. It stopped trying to combat the effects of the radiation and began to work with it instead. It adapted, changed, mutated. It felt wrong, corrupt, even more so that his current existence, but it was life and he clung to it. The pain continued as he fell towards the ground below. He was dimly aware of the growing heat but his senses had shut down from the overload. He fell further and changed as he fell.

Sandra Harrington heard the rumble and looked out through the darkness. The distant horizon glowed with a dull red glow that seemed to shimmer for a moment and then began to fade until all that remained was a faint afterglow.

Her heart began to beat faster. What time is it? Is it dawn? Is that east or west? Thoughts tumbled through her mind as she tried to find an explanation, any explanation that did not confirm the sudden dread that was beginning to dawn on her.

She felt a hand in hers and she jumped as she turned to see who had come up to her. She blinked a few times before her mind recognised the petite features of April’s face in the gloom.

“It’s probably a false dawn,” she began as a tear escaped from her left eye and began its solitary journey down her cheek.

April squeezed her hand tighter and dropped her eyes for a moment. She signed with her free hand and Sandra felt a second tear follow the first. April continued to sign with one hand while squeezing Sandra’s hand with the other. Sandra said nothing as she took in April’s heartfelt words with each careful twist of her fingers. Her message was gentle and supportive, and all the more powerful in its silence. The others in the group remained stunned, unable to put into words their sorrow, their loss and their devastation. Words could not express emotion like a lover’s caress could. Words couldn’t describe the emptiness she was feeling now; words were not capable of describing how her world had suddenly ended with the brief flare on the horizon. But, as she watched April’s small hand and she felt the tears come, April’s message penetrated the grief and gave her a focus.

April’s hand finally came to rest and reached up to wipe the tears from Sandra’s face. Sandra looked over to the horizon, but the rain was too heavy to see anything now. She thought of Peter Harris, but the pain was too much for now and she forced her thoughts to other matters. Later, maybe, she would take the positives from his memory. Later she might be able to talk to the others and together they could mourn. For tonight, though, she still had work to do and people to see safely home.

That was what Peter would have wanted.

Father Reilly walked out into the rain with his head bent low against the searing wind. Oh Lord, he thought, what have we done to your planet? The cold in the air was unknown for this time of year and the implications worried him. His thoughts, though, swiftly returned to the reason for his nocturnal foray into the rain.

He had received a message from Emma on the two-way radio a few minutes ago. She had not given many details and had specifically asked him to come alone and not to let the other Wolverines know where he was going. That, in itself, was unusual as the group of young people were rarely apart now. They had continued to trail their designated ‘marks,’ but, as yet, still had not discovered anything that would lead them to their traitor.

Reilly remembered Emma’s embarrassed report as to her last tail on Patricia Lohan. He smiled, despite the rain and cold, as he remembered her attempt to assure him that Lohan was not the traitor during their last team meeting. She had been particularly vague, though no less emphatic, and he had pressed her until she had finally pulled him aside and whispered her report out of earshot of the others. He had laughed after she had finally managed to relay the information and had assured her that he would keep the information to himself.

It had left him somewhat in a quandary though. Other than Ian Phelps, Miss Lohan was one of his main suspects and, with this current evidence, that left his suspicions fairly limited. A lot of effort had been spent on tailing Mr. Phelps in the last week with nothing to show for it. Either he knew that he was being followed, he had no reason to contact his vile masters, or he simply wasn’t guilty. But, if not him - then who?

John Kelly was a boor but he couldn’t imagine him with the balls to be a traitor. He would suspect himself before he even considered Lucy Irving. Ben Thackery was a bully. He was too hard on his children, and Reilly had wanted to intervene many times on their behalf, but had forced himself to remain out of personal affairs unless there was evidence of violence or intimidation involved. And Thackery had not, so far, gone that far.

He shouted and demeaned, but, if he were to interfere, it might make things worse for the children. So he had remained out of it for now. Thackery still had not found his wife and, in fairness, raising three children on your own in this new world was not easy. But there was a line and Thackery operated far too close to it for Reilly’s liking. Was he a traitor, though? Reilly didn’t think so.

Amanda Reitzig was too caring with her patients, especially the children, for him to believe she could possibly put them all in danger. She seemed far too delicate to harbour such evil, though he knew that he could not afford to be fooled by appearances. Penny Arkwright was another whom he just could not see putting her own desires above those of the children that she taught in the communities’ only school. How could such a woman hide a dark side that threatened to kill every member of the community? A sudden image of countless movies where serene old women were revealed to be the evil character at the end flashed through his mind, but he shook his head at their absurdity. And what about Philip Scholes and Paul Williams? How much did he really know about any of them?

He came at last to the area that Emma had directed him to and looked around, peering intently into the rain as he tried to find her. Everything was grey around him and he shivered. This part of town was at the very limit of the community’s designated safe area and he suddenly wondered what Emma had been doing out so far from everything. A sudden chill seeped through him and he felt very exposed as he stood in the centre of the deserted street. Shop windows seemed to stare at him from black, empty sockets. Shattered windows appeared like broken teeth through the rain that seems to laugh at him with demented glee, and the whole scene took on a surreal appearance. Doubts began to fill his mind. Why would Emma ask to meet him alone? And so far from any prying eyes. It was getting dark as well. Surely there was no…

“Father.” He looked around at where he had heard the voice and chastised himself for his thoughts. It took him some time to see her in the growing darkness. He had been looking among the buildings and other areas where she might have found some shelter, but he couldn’t see her. And then, suddenly, she waved at him and he could see. She was kneeling over by the radio tower, out in the rain. Why would she do that? She’ll catch her death. She looked very small and alone beside the huge radio mast, and he hurried over to her.

He was about to speak when she suddenly launched herself at him and collapsed into his arms, shuddering as her frail body was wracked by grief. He felt suddenly very embarrassed by both her sudden emotion and by his earlier suspicions.

“What is it, child?” he asked as he tried to move her with him toward some shelter. But she pulled away from him.

“Father, he’s dead,” she blurted out. “How could anyone harm someone like him?” She looked at him with such intensity that he was at a lost for words.

“Who is dead, child?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she pulled him closer to the tower and stood looking down at a pile of what he had thought to be merely rubble. At first Reilly didn’t understand, and then cold fingers of fear suddenly gripped his heart. The Radio Mast! Oh my God! Without the radio mast the vampires would be able to find them by flying close to the city. Who would…?

Emma dropped to her knees and lifted something into her lap. It took him a moment to sort out the outline of a head from the rubble surrounding the body. Jack? He felt his strength suddenly drain away and dropped to his knees beside the sobbing girl as he took her in his arms.

“How could anyone kill Jack, Father?”

Reilly felt tears burn his own eyes as he thought about the evil that must drive such a person for them to kill a boy who was as innocent of life’s hardships as Jack Pearson. Pearson must have seen someone destroying the radio mast and had been caught. It was quite likely that the poor boy would have approached the saboteur in total innocence, thinking that maybe he was fixing the unit. My God, what kind of monster lives among us? He held Emma in his arms as he looked around again at the deserted buildings. Was the saboteur still here? Was he or she enjoying seeing the result of their handiwork? For the first time in his life Father Jonathon Reilly questioned his God about why he should suffer such evil to live while the innocent paid such a high price.

He would have to find Adam Wilkins and see if anything could be salvaged, though he doubted it. He looked at the torn mess of metal and exposed wires on the ground around him and shuddered.

What were they going to do?

Epilogue

The helicopter lay on its side deep in a gully about two miles from the main highway. The rain pinged loudly on the metal shell and sounded like golf balls in the enclosed space. Harris lifted his head and immediately placed it on the cool metal floor as nausea threatened to sweep him away back into unconsciousness. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but, if there had been a fire, the rain had already put it out.

How far had they travelled, he suddenly wondered? Had the plant blown or had the core melted and resulted in a steam explosion? Was he already dying of radiation or could it travel this far in the rain? Questions flooded his mind but he could not answer any of them. He tried to lift his head again and the nausea returned, though not as badly as before. He fought off the nausea long enough to look around.

He could see two other bodies in the cab with him, though they were both still and unmoving. He tried to call out but his voice cracked and the sound was drowned out by the relentless downpour. He moved his hands and fingers first, and then began the long, laborious task of trying to free himself.

It took a while, but eventually he managed to pull himself from the cab of the wrecked helicopter. The rain was painful as he came out from the protection of the metal, but he savoured the feel of each pinprick. He was alive, though for how long had yet to be seen. It was only a matter of time before the thralls came looking for their commander. Would they stay away from the radiation or would they risk a search party?

He looked up into the sky and opened his mouth to sooth his parched throat. If it was poisoned he was already dead anyway. He heard a noise from inside the helicopter and he pulled himself reluctantly away from the rain as he went back inside to see if any of the others had survived.

The pilot was dead, the helicopter had crashed nose first and there hadn’t been a lot left of the unfortunate thrall. Warkowski was alive, though his ribs were either broken or badly bruised. He had lost his index finger on his left hand and his earlobe had been torn off on the left side of his face. Not bad, considering. It was only after Harris had pulled the big man from the wreckage into the rain that he woke up at all. Harris had thought that he had seen the big man in worse condition but there could be internal injuries he couldn’t see. Only time would tell. If they had the time, that was.

“What part of ‘stay put’ didn’t you understand?” Harris grinned as he wiped the blood away form the big man’s face.

Warkowski was groggy but he managed a small smile. “You are far too impetuous to be allowed to go off on your own.” He paused and then grunted as pain creased his face. Harris could see the worry in the man’s eyes and he patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“You have a few knocks; ribs could be broken, but nothing major. You’ll have a nice scar to show your son, though.”

“We will be brothers, then,” Warkowski laughed and then grimaced and drifted off. Harris pulled himself to his feet and wondered at Warkowski’s comments. He brought his hand to his own face tentatively. He was sore but the rain had washed away any blood so he had not thought himself injured. His fingers were numb from the cold so it was hard to be sure whether he had been cut or not. He shrugged, it would keep.

The horizon was already brightening when he started to pull Carter from the wreckage. He had been tempted to put the thrall commander out of his misery. His stomach had been torn badly by jagged metal and Harris could see the dirty grey of the thrall’s intestines poking from the wound. He would heal, of course. As long as they breathed they were able to heal from almost anything. Not quite as quickly as the vampires, and probably not as completely, but he would heal. Would he survive radiation poisoning? Harris wondered as he pulled the thrall from the wreckage with a little more force than was really necessary. He might not be able to bring himself to callously kill the thrall, but he was damned if he’d waste any more time than he had to.

Although the rain had doused any fires that might have resulted from the crash, it was still possible that the fuel could ignite with the heat of the engine. He would get the thrall to safety and then they would leave him.

He doubted that the thrall would return the favour if their situation had been reversed, but he at least still retained his humanity. Besides, Warkowski wasn’t up to walking yet and he was far too heavy to carry. By the time he had finished, Warkowski was beginning to struggle to his feet.

He wondered briefly what this new development would mean for them and for the growing community. He would have to talk to Ricks and see what they should do. If they had to move, then that was something that they would all have to work together for. Would the committee believe him? Would they let him help? Questions, questions, questions. He looked up at the sky as the light chased away the last vestiges of darkness.

The rain was beginning to soften to a heavy drizzle rather than a torrent and he wondered if that was a good thing. It would make travelling more dangerous as visibility improved and would make it easier for search parties to find them. It would also allow any radiation to travel further on the winds. Or had it already been driven into the ground by the rains from before? He shrugged. He felt the first prickling of warmth from the sun as it announced itself across the land.

“I will find you, you know,” he turned to the thrall captain and shrugged.

He wondered if he should tell the thrall about the serum. Would it do any good or would the thrall use it as a weapon against the vampires? One thing was certain, though, people would start dying in the next few months if he did nothing. He sighed and dropped to his haunches as he studied Carter.

“I need to tell you something,” he began as the rain began to ease. He knew that he was taking a chance hanging around wreckage that would act as a beacon to any searching thralls, but he had no choice. “I don’t know if you will do anything about it or whether there is any scrap of humanity left in you, but I leave that to you and your conscience.” Carter looked at him through the haze of pain as his body slowly knitted itself back together.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Peter Harris.”

It took an hour before Harris was happy that he had done everything he could to try and impress upon the thrall the importance of acting upon the information he gave him. He could do no more. By the time he moved over to Warkowski, the big man was waiting.

“Do you think he will stop the serum?”

Harris shrugged as they began to walk away from the thrall. “I don’t know. The logistics of looking after prisoners not doped on the serum would be a nightmare. On the other hand, if all the humans are dead then the vampires will have no choice but to use the thralls for food. It’s a tough call, but he’s not stupid.”

“Then it was worth it?”

“Who knows if any of it is, my friend? We can but do what we think is best. The rest is out of our control.”

The rain had stopped by the time they pulled themselves from the gulley. The sun swept over them, warming their frozen limbs.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” Warkowski asked in a rare flash of concern.

Harris looked at his friend and shrugged. “Radiation, pneumonia or the thralls finding us, take your pick.”

“I’ll take the thralls, my friend, though I miss my rifle.”

“I’ll get you a new one. The thralls have a nice new complex just west of here. We can drop by on our way home.”

“You are mad, my friend. Mad.”

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue