Empire of Blood (Book 2): Fading In Darkness (15 page)

“I’m
gonna
need your uniform then. And you’ll have to sit tight back here a while.”

Panic screamed out from every inch of the man’s face at Hank’s words.

“Don’t worry, once we’re past the state line I can stop and we can swap back. How many miles do we have left to go?”

Chapter 20

The
Open Road

A good hour or so of nothing but sand and stone had passed when the road started to climb and curve ahead.
Near the top of the hill on the opposite side of the road, sunlight glinted off of a large sign for various
Arizona
trinket shops and the promise of a gas station that was probably as empty as the view had been since Hank had taken over driving. He was glad the original driver, Ted, had decided for Hank to drop him off. It would work better for the plan Hank had in mind. He downshifted to compensate for the upward slope. As he neared even with the sign, the top of another sign peeked up from behind the road that was about to angle downward beyond the other side of the hill. The words “Welcome to
New Mexico
” slid up from the ground and alongside them the tops of two police cars blocking the road ahead.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe it’s time for me to start reading fortunes.” Hank laughed nervously as he began slowing the truck down. Two policemen that uncannily resembled the two men from Hank’s vision stepped around the side of the truck as it rattled to a stop. Pushing down on the emergency brake, Hank opened the window and said hello.

The taller of the two cops stepped up onto the side step of the truck his face buried in his clipboard.
“Cargo?
Destination?”

Parts and technical crew for the forest moon
was Hank’s held-back knee-jerk reaction.

“
Darvender
Industries—foam products—egg crates and sound-proofing foam—stuff like that. I’m headed for
East Texas
. We have a big client in
Sulphur
Springs waiting on me to get there later this evening. I sure hope I’m not too late.”

The cop gave Hank an annoyed look that said he didn’t care one way or another if he was late. And then as he looked in Hank’s eyes, his intimidating expression melted into one of surprise.

“Buddy what the hell’s wrong with your eyes?”

Hank was ready for this. His eyes had been turning more and
more black
whenever the thirst took over too strong. Knowing he might have to explain the situation to someone sooner or later, he had done some extensive research to try and find some kind of illness that fit his quite visible symptom.

“Glaucoma.
The eye drops darken my eyes.”

“And they let you drive?”

“Yeah, I haven’t wrecked the truck yet.” Hank laughed. “I guess I’m lucky.”

The cop didn’t return his laughter.
“License, registration, insurance?”

“Yeah, just let me get my registration and insurance papers from the glove box.” It was only a matter of time now. He had no other choice but to give them the license in his wallet.
The real one.
He could only hope he wasn’t on some wanted list or reported dead. He pulled out his wallet and handed the officer his ID.

The door to the glove compartment fell open like a heavy brick when Hank pushed the button to unlatch it. Inside he saw a mess of papers and something much more interesting that he hadn’t expected to find. A single small clear vial with thick dark liquid swishing around inside, smearing the glass as it went. Hank grabbed it along with the papers and set everything beside him, letting the vial roll under his leg. After a minute of rustling through the papers, he found the requested documents and handed them over to the officer. The man looked them over briefly then glanced up at Hank.

“All right.
I’ll be right back, sir. Sit tight.”

“Will do,” Hank said, watching the man as he hopped down to the ground from the side of the truck. As soon as both cops were in the squad car, Hank pulled out the vial, popped it open, and chugged its contents.
Cheers.
Looking at the cops as they moseyed back over to the truck, Hank had a moment of guilt strike at the thought of what he was about to do. He told himself it was necessary. He knew from his visions it was one of many very tough choices he would have to make. In time, they would all blur together into the moral obscurity of war.

There was a clicking sound from the taller officer.

“Mr. Evans, you sure are a long way from home. I’m
gonna
have to ask you to step out of the vehicle and open up that trailer right now.” The cop had his pistol drawn and pointed with both hands right up through the window at Hank’s head.

Hank nodded, unbuckled his seatbelt and gently eased his way out of the truck and raised his hands in the air. As soon as he stepped onto the ground, the officer patted him down quickly and forcefully, pulled out the ring of keys that had been in his pocket, then turned Hank around facing away from the cops and shoved him forward toward the back of the truck.

“Go on and open that trailer, Mr. Evans. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Don’t give me a reason to shoot. Understand?”

“Yes.” Hank stepped forward slowly until he felt the cold pressure of a barrel pressing against his back. He picked up his pace in line with the force of the officer’s weapon. When they came to the back of the trailer the officer handed Hank the key ring back and told him to open it up quickly and quietly. Hank took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for his next move.

The key turned and a deep metallic squealing thud sounded from inside the doors and in what had to have been a blur of motion, he took the gun from the officer’s hand and shoved him inside, closing the door and locking it behind him. Within the trailer, the man began to scream out in a high pitch drenched in terror. Hank climbed the trailer like a monkey in a tree, seeing the other cop in his sonar vision bursting around the side of the truck.

He thought about letting the man live, just getting back in the truck and driving onward. But he knew he couldn’t do that. It was too late to save him. If he let the man go, he would surely inform the Emperor. The cop fumbled with the lock trying to break it open with his hands as if that were possible. Hank watched him a moment and then when he’d decided now was as good a time as any, he dropped down onto the man and swiftly twisted his neck until it cracked and the man fell limp into Hank’s arms.

Hank stood there holding the lifeless body for a long while, his tears soaking into the man’s curly greasy blond hair as the other cop pounded against the inside of the trailer screaming for help. He’d only ever taken the life of a vampire before. He’d never killed another human being. And yet… he was no longer human either.
Or vampire.
He was something else entirely. A deep emptiness followed this realization.
A dark feeling much like loneliness.
But he’d been as lonely as any man could ever be before. This was something new. Something far more desolate.

Something dead.

* * * 

When George Nelson arrived at
336 Weston Road
, he wasn't at all surprised to find his old house burned to the ground. The remaining foundation was covered over with old debris and weeds grown over from years of neglect. George knelt down and wept. He could remember the last night he'd spent in his home. He might have been lonely but he'd always had a home to go to. Now he was left with nothing. His old fellowship, his home, and even his country were all things of the past now. He gripped some crumbled drywall in his hand and crushed it into dust in his hand as he thought of what all he had lost.

When he was done mourning for his past life, George sifted through the ashes and the mess of his old house. Pieces of photographs, the tattered remains of an old shirt, and chunks of wood were all he found for the longest time. But as he dug around underneath piles of rubble, he started to find papers and manila folders from the various documents he kept in his file cabinet. As he found more and more of these loose pages he pulled up his sleeves and dug faster, reaching his hands deep into the mess, cutting and scratching his bare arms several times over, and pulling away pile after pile of junk.

And then when he was almost done with it, had almost given up completely, there it was lying half buried in some dirt and ash beneath a chunk of his old black metal filing cabinet. The entire cover and the edges of all the other pages were charred. But all the important information was there.
Perfectly preserved.

George held the volume tightly to his chest before hiding it away inside his coat. Looking up and down the street, there didn't seem to be anyone watching or following him. Good. He walked back the way he came, several blocks up Weston until he came close enough to downtown to be able to flag down a cab. All the way home in the back of the yellow car, his fingers clenched the little book inside his coat against his chest. He knew he couldn't go to the media with it. They were all controlled by the Empire now. But he did have an idea of what he could do.

He smiled to himself in the
cabbie's
rearview mirror. He had a purpose now. And nothing else mattered anymore.

* * *

Marcus
Amilius
stepped down from the truck. He let his finger slide along the writing on the trailer “
Darvender
Industries” it said as he removed a layer of dust from underneath it.

“Burn it.”

He backed away from the truck as several vampires fought to hold the doors mostly shut while another vampire,
Gaius
, sporting a long black trench coat with sleeves that seemed to point out from his wrists stuffed a soaked towel into the trailer. When most of the towel was swallowed up,
Gaius
brought around a huge hose. At the end of it there was a long spout with a big metal valve alongside the tip of it. He sneered at his fellow vampires and laughed as he opened the valve and let the gasoline spray several vampires trying to get out from within the trailer and above them deep inside the big metal box.

Marcus loathed the time these creatures continually wasted. He longed to find another who cared more for preservation than the finite details of destruction like so many of his kin.
Gaius
finally lit the gas-soaked towel as if he could hear his brother complaining from within his mind. Had it taken any longer Marcus might have screamed his impatience aloud. A second later terrible screeches and screams echoed across the desert from within the trailer. The sound of ramming into metal came from within full force for a good hour or so.

Gaius
and the others cheered and danced around the flaming metal box. Eventually the fire spread to the cab and then the engine and the entire vehicle exploded taking out a couple of the vampires who had been standing too close. It had almost made Marcus smile.
Almost.
He had tasted the scents of all those inside the truck. None of them had been the strange human he was now finding himself obsessed with learning more about.

He spat in the direction of the flames and watched as his saliva sizzled in the air before it landed in the sand below. They had spread out. He was sure of it. Marcus studied the image he’d memorized in his head of the multiple truck tracks heading out of the city. He remembered that the majority of the eighteen wheelers had been heading east. He was trying to focus on just where they might have been headed when
Gaius
slammed into his side amid all his dancing, ranting and raving. Without a second thought, Marcus grabbed
Gaius
by the throat and tore it out from his brother’s neck.
Gaius
fell to his knees gasping as if he were still some lowly human desperately trying to suck in air. Several of the other brothers took advantage of the moment and lunged at
Gaius’s
throat,
fangs extended, and began to drain him. Marcus felt no pity as he watched his brother’s last moments. The thing had been weak. He was like an ancient child.
An eternal baby crying out for shelter and feeding.
Not anymore. Marcus finally did smile then. He smiled and he laughed even. Had he the ability to, he would have enjoyed pissing upon
Gaius’s
dried up filthy corpse.