Fall of the Mortals (Book 1) (20 page)

“What did you see exactly?” asked Harold, his voice rattled with worry.

“Some of them were stoned and high as kites,” answered Shaun. “I haven’t seen any
stuff
yet but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had it down there.”

“Did you smell weed?” asked Harold.

“Nah, but they could be doing heroin or meth,” answered Shaun.

“Well, we got to do something about this, Shaun,” stated Harold, standing up as if he meant business. “I don’t want Chris getting mixed up in that crap!”

“There’s a problem,” said Shaun.

“Tell me.”

“Harold. These guys may not look it but they’re professionals. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had an arsenal of weapons down there by now. It’s the reason I’ve been closed-lipped about things.”

“What do you mean weapons down there by now?” asked Harold, his face more worried.

“Haven’t you noticed all the boxes they’ve been bringing to the tower?” asked Shaun.

“Yeah but I figured it was just their property and holy water from the churches,” Harold answered.

“Holy water my ass,” said Shaun. “I’ll tell you what they’ve been bringing in, equipment to make a meth lab.”

“Oh no, not here they’re not,” said Harold, his eyes filling with fury.

“Well, what do you want to do? Get Thai and Yuri and go have a stand-off with Terry’s crew?” asked Shaun.

“Having them leave would be sending them to their deaths,” said Harold, sitting back down in the chair. He stared off trying to think it over. “They would never survive outside the tower.”

Shaun folded his arms and pondered the problem.

“Any news on Mason in Vegas?” asked Harold.

Shaun looked at Harold vacantly as if he had something he wanted to say but held back. He forgot all about the success he had in contacting Mason because of his vampire incident and recent changes. It was as if he blocked out the plan to leave entirely. What was he supposed to say?
Yes, I spoke to Mason a few days ago and it’s a green light to head out.
Harold wouldn’t understand why he would delay such an announcement.

“No,” Shaun answered, concealing the truth that he’d spoken to somebody; oblivious to the fact that it was just a vampire named Aaron toying with him over the radio.

“Damn,” Harold responded, agitated. “This would be a good time to load up everyone and get the hell out of here.”

Shaun felt horrible. Here he was covering up the truth again. He was being completely selfish.
Is it right to keep Harold and the others here knowing somebody is in Vegas? It’s going to turn into conflict here. Terry and his guys won’t leave. We’ll have to be the ones to leave or the bikers will have to be put down,
he thought.

***

Terry stood over his clandestine lab, admiring his masterpiece. It was set up on top of a ping pong table. There were several glass jars that were connected from one to another with thin, clear hoses. A few of them had steam coming out the top. He had two propane tanks beneath the table attached to round-shaped glass clandestine equipment also connected to hoses. The floor beneath the table was messy. Cold medicine packaging and empty two liter bottles of soda lay on the floor. One of the two liter bottles had a cap at the tip that was attached to a thin hose that ran up to the round equipment.

Chris watched Terry make a batch of crystal methamphetamines. Terry poured the thin, transparent chunks onto a cookie sheet and broke them down into tiny pieces.

“What does it do?” asked Chris with a curious smile.

“Gets you loaded,” answered Terry as if he had just made a delicious batch of cookies and couldn’t wait to try them himself.

“Why does it smell like cat piss in here?” asked Chris.

“That’s lab magic for ya, little brother. Lab magic,” answered Terry, holding back some laughter. “This stuff is the most potent thing you can take for half the price of heroin and coke.”

“Sweet. Think I could try some?” asked Chris. “I promise I won’t tell.”

Terry looked at Curtis who was sitting back in the room ready to get wasted.

“Give the kid a hit, man,” Curtis responded.

“Not a word to anyone, got it?” said Terry with hard eyes. “You’re an L.A. Rider now. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“I got it, man,” Chris responded.

“Here, just take a small hit since it’s your first time,” said Terry handing Chris a glass pipe and lighting it. Chris put the pipe up to his mouth while Terry lit the bottom end. Chris exhaled. He felt the soothing stimulation of the meth kick in.

“Is the stuff ready yet?” asked Brody. “I’m hurtin’, bro.”

“Right off the press,” answered Terry setting up a glass pipe and a lighter for Brody.

“Hurry up, man!” hollered Brody.

“If you’re in such a hurry, Brody, go get some of the old crap we pulled out of the cave!” Terry hollered rudely at him. “I’m going as fast as I can!”

“Sorry brother, I just can’t get Mark and Trent out of my head,” said Brody in a much calmer tone, taking his glass pipe from Terry.

Billy and Shane waited anxiously for their dope. They stared at Terry impatiently while he put the crystals into individual small baggies as if they had been starving for a week. Terry tossed them each a baggy of meth and handed them a glass pipe.

“Thanks Terry,” said Billy and Shane as if he had just thrown them a packed lunch.

“That’s what I’m talking about, bro,” said Brody taking a hit from the glass pipe.

Terry sat down on a sofa and lit up his pipe with Brody. They inhaled the powerful vapors of crystal meth together.

“Good rush,” said Terry. “How’s it treating ya guys?”

“It’s damn sweet,” answered Billy.

“I can’t feel a damn thing in my calves,” said Shane. “Now I’m numb in my thighs,” he added, beginning to chuckle.

“How long does it last?” asked Chris, his eyes in a daze. “I feel like I’m floating.”

“Few hours,” answered Curtis. “Enjoy it.”

Chris took another hit of the glass pipe. He was well on his way down the biker path. He collapsed on a cushion on the floor in the bliss of being high. He moved his hand in circles watching the movement in the air.

“That is trippy,” mumbled Chris waving his other hand across his face quickly. The movement of his hand left a streak of skin-colored light in the air. He tried to touch the illusion but it disappeared. He looked at the others. They too were in a similar state of euphoria brought on by illegal substances. Chris enjoyed being high and growing closer to the bikers. He was one of them now. He was becoming an enemy to the tower family.

CHAPTER TEN
Washington D.C.’s Plan of Attack

It was a sunny day and late in the afternoon in D.C. The streets were quiet and similar to Los Angeles. Vehicles were left abandoned everywhere. Some of the deceased occupants were still inside many of the cars. The traffic signals at the intersections changed from red to green. There was no traffic though. The vampire attack on D.C. was just as swift, vicious and brutal as it was across the nation. The city was quiet, like a cemetery with no movement. No one was left alive in the city.

The only survivors were in the White House. President Daniel Campbell was held in a secure room by Secret Service agents and several priests who knew how to fend off the vampires if need be. His secured quarters were staffed by a few control panel officers that had large monitor screens in front of them. They wore headsets and kept the president well informed of any news or updates. The president’s main contact was Admiral Stanton of a US Naval carrier, the
U.S.S. John F. Kennedy
that was stationed twenty miles from the coast. There was enough food supply for the president and his crew to last another two years. Campbell had grown weary trying to come up with a strategy to take the mainland back. Like the tower family in L.A., time was running out. A new plan needed to be implemented for the sake of survival.

Campbell stood on the roof of the White House in a dark suit and tie with his arms folded holding a Motorola radio in one hand. Agent Barnes, Agent Wilcox and Agent Sands stood on the roof with him on each corner holding AR-15 assault rifles. The agents wore the navy blue tactical uniform; helmets with goggles strapped in the front, body armor and thigh holstered side-arms. They watched in every direction for threats.

Campbell stared out at the quiet city of D.C. with a stern expression wondering how his power was taken from him. He felt a sense of guilt knowing his life was well preserved despite many people being killed so brutally. He watched a Blackhawk helicopter approach and fly over them that was piloted by Lt. Harper and Lt. Foreman.

“Hawk One to President?” asked Harper over Campbell’s radio.

“How’s it looking out there boys?” answered Campbell, raising his radio to his face.

“City has been scanned, sir,” answered Harper. “There’s no sign of life anywhere.”

“I understand. Good work, gentlemen,” said Campbell with a sigh. “Heading back to base?”

“Yes sir,” Harper answered. “I’d like very much to pick you up, Mr. President, and take to you to the Kennedy?”

“Negative pilot,” answered Campbell with a smile. “This captain is staying until his ship sinks.”

“Roger that, Mr. President,” said Harper. “Can we get you anything?”

Campbell noticed the tall sign of the golden arches of McDonald’s in the distance. The sign was damaged and the power was off. It was another witness to the fact that his world was at an end.

“How ’bout a quarter pounder with cheese?” asked Campbell in sarcasm.

“Copy sir,” Harper chuckled. “I’ll see what I can whip up on the Kennedy for you.”

The helicopter flew over buildings. Harper and Foreman looked down at the empty, uninhabited streets. They saw nothing but abandonment and death that went on endlessly through the city streets below. There were several people who were killed by the vampires lying in the roads decomposing, several traffic accidents, vehicles blocking streets and intersections.

“See anything?” Harper asked Foreman adjusting his pilot helmet’s headset.

“Negative,” answered Foreman. “Just death.”

“I can’t believe there’s not one person down there,” said Harper. “Those things just killed everybody so fast.”

“Is it a virus?” asked Foreman. “Do they even know yet?”

“No one knows what the origin is or where it came from,” answered Harper. “People just started to fly through the air and attack other people. Some stay dead, others get up and attack more people.”

“Maybe they’re zombies?” said Foreman.

“There are some on the Kennedy that call them vampires.”

Foreman chuckled.

“I’m being serious.”

“Vampires aren’t real,” said Foreman.

“Got any better explanations?” asked Harper.

Foreman looked down at the dead bodies below again.

“There’s got to be thousands of dead people down there,” said Harper.

“Hawk One? Are you there?” asked a male’s voice over the radio.

“Yes sir, Admiral. Go ahead,” answered Harper.

“We’re planning a strike on the Big Apple at twenty hundred hours,” stated Admiral Stanton. “Since you’re passing through D.C., I need you to head up there and make visual confirmation the area is dense with targets.”

“These things fly through the air, admiral,” stated Harper sounding concerned.

“We’re aware of that, lieutenant,” answered Stanton. “There’s no need to engage. We just need confirmation the area is lush and then you can head back to base. Do you copy?”

Harper didn’t respond but stared out the windshield. He felt the anxiety of danger come upon him and it bothered him.

“Hawk One, do you copy?” asked Stanton.

“Copy sir,” answered Harper in quiet voice, irritated.

“You should be there in a few hours, just in time for the enemy to present themselves,” said Stanton. “The strike team will engage at twenty hundred, so be heading out to sea by nineteen thirty-five hours.”

“Copy, admiral,” answered Harper. “En route.”

The Blackhawk flew north towards New York City.

***

The sun was going down over D.C.  Campbell was still standing on the roof watching over his city. Agent Barnes and the others manned their posts valiantly without moving. They were loyal men and willing to defend their president no matter how long he took to stare at his capitol town.

Cardinal Rexburg and a group of priests approached Campbell from behind. They were dressed in red robes. The president didn’t acknowledge Rexburg’s approach but just watched the city.

“It’s almost dark, Mr. President,” said Rexburg, standing beside Campbell, watching the city with him.

“So it is,” Campbell replied.

“Don’t you think it’s time to go downstairs?” asked Rexburg, glancing at him.

“How did I lose?” asked Campbell in a mumbled, gloomy tone.

“Lose? What is it you feel you lost?” asked Rexburg.

“I lost control of this place,” answered Campbell. “It belonged to me once, you know.”

“That’s your problem. You never had it to begin with because it wasn’t yours,” stated Rexburg. “Control is an illusion.”

“An illusion?” asked Campbell.

“The things we have are given to us by the One up there,” said Rexburg pointing to the sky. “Even our most grievous hardships are given to us.”

“What are you saying, I’m being cursed?” asked Campbell, trying to understand where Rexburg was coming from.

“Not necessarily cursed,” answered Rexburg.

“If this isn’t being cursed, what is it then?” asked Campbell, nearly chuckling. “Look at our world out there. We’re on the last thread of hope before annihilation.”

“You’re being tested,” Rexburg answered. “As well as the rest of the world.”

“Why would God test me? Why would he test the world?” asked Campbell.

“The same reason he tests everyone else,” Rexburg responded. “To see if you can stand against the devil and the armies of hell and prevail.”

“If that’s true, why would God destroy something that took millions of years to build?” asked Campbell.

“It’s been prophesied that, before the end comes, the world will linger in its darkest hour,” answered Rexburg. “Perhaps the minute hand is about to strike twelve.”

Campbell stared at Rexburg, confounded by his words.

***

Harper and Foreman were arriving over New York City in the Blackhawk. The Verrazano-Narrows Bridge was lit up. The pilots were uncomfortable flying so close to the city at night. Harper took a series of deep breaths while they passed over the Verrazano.

“Admiral, from Hawk One. Be advised, we are approaching the city, sir,” said Harper.

“Do a fly by over Manhattan and head back to base,” Stanton responded.

“Damn it,” Harper mumbled. Foreman sighed.

“I didn’t want us to go that far inland,” said Harper.

“Orders are from the admiral,” said Foreman in a fearful tone. “What are we going tell him?”

“Admiral, sir. We are passing over the Brooklyn area,” Harper said. “We’d be happy to fly low enough to confirm a visual of a target and head back to base. Do you copy?”

“Negative Hawk One. Strategy requires a visual confirmation in Manhattan,” stated Stanton.

“Sir. Can’t the F-16 pilots confirm a visual prior to delivering their package?” asked Harper, trying to get out of the mission.

“Negative. The jets will be coming in too fast. Visual confirmation is mandatory closer to the surface from Hawk One. Is that clear?” Stanton’s voice sounded firmer, trying not to be irritated.

“Copy sir. We’ll observe and report momentarily,” Harper responded glancing at Foreman as if Stanton was the biggest prick in the world.

“Excellent Hawk One. Primary targets are Brooklyn, Newark and Manhattan,” stated Stanton. “Use caution.”

“Really, you think so?” Harper responded mawkishly off air. “Freaking unbelievable. Damn it.”

“Well, what’s the plan?” asked Foreman, trying to gird up his confidence.

“We’ll loop around Central Park and call it good,” answered Harper. “Just make sure the guns are ready.”

“You really think those things will try to attack us in a Blackhawk?” asked Foreman.

“I’m hoping the propellers will scare them off,” Harper responded taking his side arm out from his thigh holster and loading a round.

Foreman shrunk with terror at the sight of Harper loading his gun. He was scared even in an armored military helicopter.

“Central Park is coming up,” said Harper. “I’m flying lower to the surface. I’ll put us at twenty feet above the pavement.”

 They lowered the Blackhawk. Foreman shined spotlights throughout the park. There was no sign of anything in the area. Leaves blew on the paved walking paths. There were old newspapers that had blown against the benches that were stuck to the back rests. Some of the trash receptacles were knocked over, which had spilled trash onto the walking paths. Other paper garbage and small debris blew through the park as if no one had cleaned up the place in several months. It was deserted surprisingly.

“Huh. I thought they’d be flying everywhere by now,” stated Foreman moving the spotlight around in the dark. “I don’t see a damn thing out there.”

“I’m heading east towards Fifth Avenue,” said Harper.

The Blackhawk rose to the rooftops of the buildings on Fifth Avenue.

“Oh my God,” said Foreman in a frightened whisper.

“What?” asked Harper, looking out the side windows.

“Look out there,” said Foreman, scared as hell, shining the spotlight on multitudes of vampires that floated in mid-air glaring at the pilots. “There are hundreds of them,” he added, trying to stay calm.

The vampires had a cold, evil look in their eyes. They wanted nothing more than to taste the blood of the pilots that had flown in their midst. They didn’t make a move but just floated in place staring at the pilots fifty feet above the pavement. Harper and Foreman stared at the legion of vampires through the windshield that floated in the air watching them.

“What now Harper?” asked Foreman, frozen in his seat staring out the windshield.

“Hawk One to base,” said Harper into his headset.

“Go ahead,” answered Stanton.

“I’ve got your visual confirmation,” stated Harper.

“Copy that. Confirming you’re in Manhattan?” asked Stanton.

“Central Park, sir,” answered Harper.

“How many, lieutenant?” asked Stanton.

“Numerous,” answered Harper.

“Head back to the Kennedy. Don’t worry about the enemy. They wouldn’t dare to attack you in a Blackh—”

Suddenly, several vampires flew towards the windshield slamming their faces onto the glass and scratching viciously to get to the pilots. Harper and Foreman screamed. The vampires pounded on the windshield causing cracks.

“Base! We’re under attack!” Harper yelled in his headset maneuvering the helicopter to the left abruptly.

The propellers sliced through several vampires that flew in to join the attack. Some of them were cut in half. Others had arms, legs and their heads severed. Their pieces fell to the pavement below while the helicopter made its getaway.

A few vampires held onto the windshield gnashing their teeth and clawing at the glass. Harper shot at them with his side arm. The vampires flinched from being shot and let go. The Blackhawk flew through the city skyscrapers. An army of vampires flew after it.