Blood Run (21 page)

Promise looked down, but beside her Miller laughed. “That’s a good one, Tarzan. A résumé! Can you even write? Or read?”

Billet and Shields picked up on the word Tarzan. Shields beat his chest and yodeled, while Billet scratched at his armpits and hooted and oofed like a chimpanzee. Evans shot them a dirty look, and they fell on each other, laughing and wrestling.

“Hey, why don’t you two idiots shut the hell up?” Evans said then looked at Miller. “You think
I’m
stupid?” he said with incredulity and pointed at Shields and Billet who rolled in a tangle across the deli floor. “Look at those–”

A scream came from outside.

The soldiers jumped up so quickly that Promise jerked back and dropped her candy bar. Billet, completely sober in an instant, doused the Coleman as he stood. Now the room was almost entirely black with the exception of a small sliver of moonlight coming through a twelve-inch expanse of window left uncovered at the top.

“Outpost?” Riker said and looked at Miller questioningly.

Promise was mystified.

Miller shook her head. “Not according to the maps. Not since October. The last survivors were relocated to Granger. There were too many attacks here. Probably too close to the woods.”

The scream came again from somewhere close by.

“Vamp or human?” Riker said.

“Human,” Lu said, and Miller nodded agreement.

“Peter, you and Promise move behind the horses. You have stakes?”

Peter nodded and grabbed Promise’s hand, but Promise stood firm, resisting.

“You’re going out there?” Promise asked Riker. She was more confused than outraged, and Riker put a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s what we do. Don’t worry.” He winked at her, and she let Peter pull her away.

The soldiers drew on their short coats, and six arms clicked the neck protection across six throats. Then they each drew something complicated-looking from their bags. Six quiet clicks came through the dark, and the complications resolved themselves into short, deadly looking crossbows. The crossbows shot the carbon fiber, matte black arrows known as ‘bolts’.

“Shields, Billet: bang left. Evans, right. Miller, straight out and cover Evans. Lu and I have the door. Go.”

They had been standing at the plywood-covered, former glass door of the deli, and at the word ‘go’, Billet shouldered it open and rolled around it to the left with Shields practically on his back. Evans hooked right, and Miller proceeded across the road facing the direction Evans had gone.

To Promise, they looked like a dark eddy of water flowing out the door. She felt a wave of disorientation and then realized what it was from. These soldiers didn’t jingle and clank with equipment and weapons as they moved out. They went like ninjas: swift and light, and utterly silent, crossbows up and at the ready.

Miller melted into the shadows of the buildings on the far side of the road, her eyes on Evans. He kept close to the buildings on his side, ducking from dark place to dark place. Miller glanced once in the direction Billet and Shields had gone. They were invisible. She controlled her breath and listened, waiting.

The scream came again, and it sounded as though it was right behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at the words ‘Banner’s Family Ice Cream Parlor’ scrolled in fat, gilt letters across the door she leaned on.
You scream, I scream
, she thought, turning the doorknob…locked,
we all scream for
–

She brought her elbow up and into the glass, breaking it in a cascade of glittering fake gold. She snaked her hand in and popped the lock. By the time she had her hand back on the outer doorknob, Evans was in front of her, and Billet and Shields were crossing the street a half a black down, coming her way. Miller nodded at Evans and turned the knob, opening the door.

Evans edged past her and into the ice cream parlor, scanning it quickly with his crossbow at eye level. He looked corner-to-corner, assessing the room. It was similar to the deli, with a long counter breaking the room in half about fifteen feet back. But there was another doorway behind the counter. There was no door on it. He could see the first three risers of a set of stairs.

The scream came again, directly above them.

Miller ran fleetly past him, making no sound, and mounted the stairs, her crossbow pointed up the stairwell. Evans was behind her as Shields and Billet entered the parlor. He motioned for one of them to hang at the door and the other to stay at the bottom of the stairs. No one in, no one out. They nodded and took up their places.

Miller was almost to the top, with Evans right behind her. She turned into the only doorway. A row of uncovered windows that faced the main street let in a fair amount of moonlight, enough to see the entirety of the room. It was a bedroom, or used to be. A sagging, bare-mattressed twin bed was tucked under the windows. Five tattered posters clung to the plaster like shredding wallpaper. A painted nightstand held a lamp with a ripped shade and shattered bulb.

A girl, maybe five or six, was huddled in the farthest corner, her hands clamped over her ears, eyes closed. A man hovered over her, seemingly at odds with himself. He reached for her and then tore his hands away. He reached again and snatched his hand back, almost as though she were too hot to touch.

“Hey,” Miller said quietly, barely breathing the word. The man turned. His face was long, but not as long as it would get if he were allowed to fully turn. His teeth had whitened and sharpened, and his skin had the deathly pallor of all vampires. As Miller brought the bolt in her crossbow to center on his chest, she could have sworn she saw a look of relief in the vampire’s eyes.

She pulled the trigger, and the bolt hissed the fifteen deadly feet into the vampire’s chest. It pierced his heart, and a gout of black blood burbled from his mouth. Without a sound, he collapsed to his knees.

The little girl jumped up, screamed again, and scrambled to the man. She threw herself against him, seemingly unaware of the wash of thick blood on his chest. “Daddy!” she cried, and the man’s hand came shakily to her back, comforting her even as he toppled onto his back, dead.

The girl screamed again, and Miller plucked her from her father’s body and put her hand over the child’s mouth. If there were other vampires close by, the screaming would draw them. All Guard soldiers knew the benefit of silence when it came to fighting vampires.

The front of the girl’s nightgown was wet with her father’s blood. Miller whispered, ‘Sshhh,’ in the child’s ear, but she continued to struggle and scream around Miller’s hand. “Honey, please, you’ll bring the vampires…please be quiet,” Miller said softly, loosening her grip on the child. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

The words must have set up echoes of familiarity in the child’s mind because she quieted. She shook like a cold, terrified kitten and looked up at Miller. Her eyes were enormous with shock and moonglow sparkled on the tears she’d shed.

From the stairs, Evans said, “We gotta go, Miller.”

The girl’s lips worked, and Miller bent to hear. Her voice was barely a whisper of breath. “My daddy was a vampire,” she said. Miller gripped the girl’s shoulders and nodded.

“We’re here to save you,” Miller said. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Can you tell me?”

“What the hell, Miller, come on!” Evans was now halfway down the stairs, whispering harshly. “Whatever got him might still be around…move!”

The girl glanced nervously toward Evans’ voice and then back to Miller. “Nancy,” she said, more tears slipping over her lashes. “My name is N-Nancy.”

Miller smiled. “Okay NaNancy…can you stick right by me? Hang onto my belt no matter what?”

Nancy nodded, and Miller ran a hand over her hair. “Good girl. Let’s go.”

Nancy slipped a hand into Miller’s belt and glanced once more at her father. Then they were to the stairs and down.

Billet was at the base of the stairs and Shields at the front door. Evans stood between them at the counter. He shot Miller an annoyed glance.

“Shields? We clear?” Miller asked, ignoring Evan’s comment.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re clear; let’s go,” Shields said, glancing back into the room.

“Billet first, Miller next with the kid. Shields, you’ve got drag. Move,” Evans said waving Billet past him. They went single-file across the street, their bows up and trained in every direction. Lu held the door to the deli propped open, and Billet was just going through when Shields screamed from back at the ice cream parlor.

Miller turned from her spot on the sidewalk just in time to see Shields pulled down by two vampires. They must have been hiding somewhere in the parlor. They might even have been the ones that changed Nancy’s father. She turned to go back, but Evans pushed her toward the deli. “You have the girl. Go, go, go!”

She became aware that Nancy was screaming again. She grabbed the girl under the arms and bolted to the deli, where Lu was waving her in. Shields continued to scream from across the street.

Miller pushed past Lu into the dark deli. She panicked briefly as the little girl was yanked from her arms, but then she recognized Promise.

“I’ve got her! Help him!” Promise said and drew the girl back to where Peter held the horse’s bridles, soothing and quieting them as they huffed and stamped nervously at the screams and commotion.

Miller turned back to the deli door, but Riker–standing opposite Lu–put his hand up to stop her. Miller froze in her tracks.

Evans burst in, dragging Billet. Miller looked past Lu and Riker to the ice cream parlor across the street. A huddle of bodies lay on the sidewalk and half in the shattered door.

“Shields?” she said to Evans, but Evans shook his head. His features were pulled down in grief and rage.

He threw a punch at the deli wall. The drywall cracked under his fist.

“FUCK!” he said, and his shoulders slumped. Then he turned to where Billet lay. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and shook himself like a dog fresh out of a lake. His face was full of terrible, conflicted reluctance.

He aimed the crossbow at Billet.

Lu had closed the door and was sliding the bolt across when Riker stopped him. “Hold on, Lu, don’t bolt it yet,” he said and crossed to Evans. “Do we have to put him out?” he said, his voice tight. He put a hand on Evans’ shoulder.

“No, fuck that,” Evans said and swiped his face across his sleeve again.

“What are you talking about?” Promise said from the back of the deli, alarm coloring her voice. “Put
who
out?”

Riker ignored her, his eyes on Evans. “Was he bit? Evans, answer me! Was Billet bit?”

“I don’t…I don’t fucking know. It was a mess over there,” Evans said, his voice high with emotion. He kept the bow trained on Billet despite his anxiety. “He…he
might
have been…but he might have just been knocked out. He’s such a…such a damn
kid
. I couldn’t
leave
him there!”

“Miller, bring the Coleman,” Riker said, rapping out the commands. “Lu, stay on the door; be ready. Evans, I’m going to check him out. If I say it…stake him. You got me?”

Evans nodded, but his eyes rolled, panicked.

“No hesitation, Evans,” Riker said roughly. “You hear me?”

“Yessir. Yes, I got you, sir.” Evans calmed and trained the bow on Billet’s chest. He breathed out.

Miller lit the Coleman, and it hissed to life, filling the room with frantically dancing shadows. Billet’s face was covered in blood from his nose down, and a dark bruise was starting across the bridge of his nose. Evans lifted Billet’s hands into the light, checking his nails–normal, no growth. Then he motioned Miller even closer with the light. He used his thumb and lifted Billet’s lip, checking for the sure stamp of a being in the midst of the change: elongated teeth.

Billet’s hand came up, and he listlessly smacked Riker’s hand away. His eyes opened, and he screamed; the sound had a bubbling, thick quality as though he were drowning. He saw the bow aimed at his chest and struggled onto his elbows.

“Billet, lie still!” Riker roared, jumping up. “We don’t know if you’re changing!”

Billet stopped struggling, although tremors shook him violently. Even his teeth chattered.

“Open your mouth! Now!” Riker demanded.

The unshed tears in Billet’s eyes refracted the lantern’s light as he looked from Miller to Evans’ crossbow. He drew in a breath, and his chest hitched. Then his lip lifted, shakily, like a snarling dog.

His teeth were normal.

Riker relaxed slightly. “How do you feel?”

“Sc-sca-scared? Sir?” Billet whispered, and the tears overflowed his lashes. “I’m fu-fu-fucking scared?”

Riker relaxed further and knelt back down, but there was still the suggestion of tension, of readiness to spring away, in his posture. “What happened over there? Can you remember?” Without looking away from Billet, Riker put a hand on Evans’ crossbow, pushing it gently down.

Evans slumped against the wall, then slid down until he was seated. He kept his eyes fixed on Billet. The crossbow was pointed at the ground, but the bolt remained cocked and ready.

“Not…not much to tell. Those fu-fucking things, the vampires, they had Shields. They must have come out of the ice cream place. I r-ran back, and Evans was trying to get his bow sighted, and I brought mine up, too, but I got too…too close to Evans, and his elbow came back and…clocked me. Right in the nose. I heard it crack, and one of those vampires looked up, like it smelled my bluh-blood.” He swiped his hand across his lip, smearing blood to his ear. “Its eyes were…twirling or something, and I thought it was gonna…jump up.” He sighed and then choked on the sigh. He leaned over, coughing, and spit out a wad of bloody phlegm. “I just…I passed out. I felt it happening. Everything was going over gray, and I heard a sound like…like a far away whistle. Next thing I knew, I was waking up here, but I thought…I thought I was still out there.”

Miller ran her hand roughly over the top of Billet’s head. Tears stood at her lower lashes, and Billet felt his own tears close at hand. Shields had been a good soldier, a good friend; but Billet didn’t want to cry in front of Evans and Riker.