Something of the Night (31 page)

“No – no,” she cried. Then,
impulsively, she jumped into the drain and crouched over the pipe. Water rushed
past her calves, disappearing into darkness. There! She spotted the vial as it
bobbed to the surface. She ducked inside the pipe and stretched as far as she
could.

“Christ, kid, be careful,”
the soldier warned.

Suddenly, her foot slipped on
a patch of slime and she went down onto her rear. The vile water made her
retch. She lost her grip and the current quickly pushed her deeper into the
pipe.

“Help!” she spluttered.

“No,” the soldier gasped. He
pulled a flashlight from his belt and dropped to his knees. The beam of light
revealed an empty tunnel. The little girl was nowhere to be seen.

“Help!” he called.

He looked towards the nearest
crowd of people, but they seemed too preoccupied with their own tasks. When,
from between their feet, a little blur of motion appeared. It headed directly
towards him and, as it drew near, he heard the clatter of claws.

Scratch raced away from the
Huey. His jaws opened wide as he plucked the flashlight from the soldier’s
hand. Then, with a splash, he landed inside the drain. The pipe flickered for a
moment with a strobe-light effect before plunging into total darkness.

***

The dark Huey looked like a giant beetle that was
under attack by a swarm of oversized ants. At least a dozen bodies crawled over
the hull and nose of the helicopter, rushing to finish the installation of The
Ray of Hope. Ben, Tate, Nick and Alice were all busy tying the cables to the
side of the hull. Inside the rear cabin, the teenager who’d been rescued with
Hannah Cain was quickly handing various tools to Squirrel as he finished with
the modifications to the generator.

“How much longer?” asked the
teenager.

“We’re almost there,”
Squirrel told her. He looked up from the connection box and offered her an
optimistic smile. “I hope.”

The girl smiled back, and
Squirrel realised that underneath all that grime she was actually quite pretty.
Years of malnutrition had aged her somewhat prematurely. Her cheekbones were
too sharp and he could almost see the ridges of her eye sockets, but she was
still pretty, nonetheless.

For a second, Squirrel forgot
about the gravity of their situation. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Ella,” she replied, shyly.

“That’s a pretty name,” he
remarked.

She looked away and Squirrel
wasn’t sure if he saw her cheeks redden underneath all that dirt. They stood
silent, the awkward moment stretching out.

Alice
broke the silence when she appeared at the cabin
entrance. “What’s left to do?” she asked. She sensed she had interrupted
something and grinned slightly when they both made an exaggerated attempt to
continue what they’d previously been doing.

Squirrel cleared his throat,
“Ah… have you run the cable from the gyroscope into the cockpit?”

“Done.”

“What about the searchlight
itself?”

“Ben’s adding the finishing
touches to it now.”

Despite the immediate
seriousness of their situation, Ben had insisted on following everybody else’s
progress with a can of paint and brush in hand. He was systematically covering
the scratches and burn marks made from the various tools and welds that had
been required to fix The Ray of Hope in place. Also, an additional layer of
bullet-proof glass had been roughly bolted over the glass membrane, which
Squirrel had reassured would protect the lens from anything but a direct hit
from a rocket attack. Without thinking he’d fired a shot at point-blank range,
as if to prove the fact, and the ricocheting bullet had missed Ben’s head by a
hair’s breadth.

Now Squirrel said, “Then all
I need to do is this.” He bent over the connection box and placed three fuses
into their housings. He closed the lid using two screws to tighten it. Then,
with a silent prayer, he flipped the isolator switch up. The copper blades
inside slotted home. Closing the electrical circuit.

“Hold your breath,” he
grimaced.

Ella reached out and took
hold of his hand. “Fingers crossed,” she said, holding her other hand up.
Alice
crossed
her fingers also. She stood anxiously as Squirrel’s free hand hovered over a
large green button.

“Here goes …” he said, and
hit the switch.

Nothing happened. Not even
the pop of blown fuses. Then the generator began to whine. Just a quiet hum of
electrical energy to begin with, but it quickly grew into a roar of powerful
machinery. Thick smoke coughed out of a vent, covering all three in a layer of
black silt.

“You did it,” Ella
congratulated. She leaned over and kissed his smeared cheek. They moved around
to the front of the Huey. A small crowd of people had gathered around the
cockpit. A bright ray of incandescent light burnt hope onto all their faces.

It was almost time for them
to fight back.

Chapter
Forty-Eight

Ezekiel
watched
as the first group of prisoners worked their way along the dirt track. About
twenty in all were headed for the summit. At first, they moved away from the
perimeter of the army with caution and trepidation. However, once they realised
the vampires’ intentions were real, they quickened their pace and eagerly put
distance between themselves and their keepers.

“What do you think will happen?”
Trask asked, as he watched the first few prisoners reach the point where the
trail split into two.

“I’m not sure,” Ezekiel
replied. “Perhaps they’ll just walk up to the front and knock.”

“You think it’ll be that
simple?”

Ezekiel shrugged. “Let’s wait
and see.”

“They could disappear over
the hill and that’ll be the last we see of them,” Trask warned.

“No,” Ezekiel insisted. “The
humans will come to claim the rest of their brethren. Even if they only send
one to do so.”

“And then what?”

“I’ll release the rest,”
Ezekiel said. “After I show the humans how seriously I take their welfare, and
how brutally I punish those who do not share my sentiments.”

“Brothers Isaac and
Jeremiah?”

“Indeed.”

“And their breakaway
faction?” Trask asked.

“I think the humans will take
care of them for us.”

“At a cost, though, I agree.
There’ll be casualties, to the humans I mean.”

“An unfortunate situation, but
one that should strengthen our
position and weaken theirs. If all goes
as planned, we’ll be heading back north without a single shot fired.”

“Let’s hope so,” Trask
remarked. “I’ll go and bring Brothers Isaac and Franklin. They should be
present for the… inauguration.”

Ezekiel sensed the stocky
vampire leave his side. His attention stayed with the prisoners, however. They’d
remained at the crossroads for a while now, either unsure or unwilling to take
their next step, and Ezekiel began to worry that the prisoners were indeed
strangers to this place. At long last they continued along the main trail as
they headed towards the entrance found at the summit.

A couple of minutes later,
bright headlights appeared from around the hillside. First one set, then
another, and another. Within seconds the entire right flank of the hill burned
brightly with the glow of electric lights. The humans were coming to reclaim
their lost ones, or even better, escaping from Isaac’s army. A long convoy of
transports weaved through the trees to join the main trail.

Now, like a second rising of
the sun, another set of lights appeared from the right flank of the hill,
breaking the crest in a bright dazzle. They burnt the darkness away and moved
as if to intercept the first group. More humans ready to join the first convoy,
making up an endless fleet of flesh and metal.

Where had they come from?
Ezekiel thought. From an access he knew nothing about? More and more lights
appeared from the south, and at first Ezekiel grinned with the thought of so
many humans. He hadn’t dare dream there would be so many of them left. Yet his
elation turned quickly to fear. Why were the prisoners running away from the
approaching vehicles? It was then when he heard the first sound of gunfire. One
of the stragglers dropped to the ground. Another shot sounded and a second
figure toppled into the rough undergrowth.

“No… no…
no… ”
Ezekiel moaned.

He jumped into the back of a
jeep. He pushed the barrel of a fixed machinegun out of the way. Squinting, he
focused on the fleet of vehicles at the base of the hill. Something caught his
attention: a splash of colour, which appeared to have been copied onto every
side-panel or hood or rear. “You, soldier, what is that?” he asked the vampire
sitting in the front of the jeep. The soldier pulled a set of binoculars from a
pouch at his side. He raised them to his eyes and scanned along the field of
moving metal. Ezekiel sensed the vampire tense. The binoculars fell away from
soldier’s face and he muttered something barely audible.

“Here!” Ezekiel said, and
snatched the eyepieces from the other’s hands.

Ezekiel tracked the lead
vehicle – a jeep – and saw a figure standing in the back, legs spread apart and
arms holding tightly onto a mounted machinegun. The weapon chattered and, as
Ezekiel followed the line of fire, he watched in horror as two prisoners
toppled over, cut down in cold blood.

“No – no,” he moaned again.

He returned his gaze to the
jeep and sought out the blaze of colour. He struggled for a second as the jeep
bounced in and out of view. Eventually, he managed to trap the splash of paint
within his field of vision. A skull grinned back at him. It was made up from
crude brush strokes, white for the actual skull and two bright red blobs for
the eyes. Its jawbone was parted slightly and four canines – two each top and
bottom – dripped with more bright red paint. Behind the skull and, overlapping
like crossbones, were an AK-47 and a sword, more red paint ran from the tip of
the blade down to the hilt.

Raphael’s insignia!

***

Jacob took shallow breaths, barely filling the tops of
his lungs. The stench of overcooked meat soured the air. At his side, Elliot
had now regained consciousness. The young tracker’s eyes flicked intermittently
towards the giant monster, then back to the floor of the trailer. Jacob had
done this also and he guessed that Elliot, like himself, was trying to gauge
the injured vampire’s ability.

Elliot felt a foot tap
against his own. He turned and looked at the older tracker. He frowned – What?
Jacob nodded towards the inside of the trailer. Elliot followed his gaze and
discovered fist marks, smeared with blood, hammered into the chrome panelling.
He turned first to Jacob and then to the black monster sitting at the rear of
the Airstreamer. He shook his head. No way!

Jacob nodded. Yes, the
gesture confirmed, black Frankenstein had indeed done that with his bare hands.

“We’re in a world of shit,”
Elliot whispered.

“Silence!” Thalamus ordered.
It seemed the loss of both ears hadn’t diminished his hearing any.

Both fell silent.

Jacob turned his attention to
his son. His hair looked dishevelled and reddish-brown tufts stuck out from one
side, as if he’d been asleep recently. It was amazing how easily children adapted
to their environments, Jacob mused, and he was not surprised to think the boy
would find comfort as he travelled with this mighty war machine.

Jacob and the boy made eye
contact for a second. The little boy slipped off his chair and took a few
cautious steps towards the two tethered captives.

“Boy,” Thalamus called. “Stay
away from them.”

The vampire’s unkindly way of
addressing his child angered Jacob. He risked retribution and said, “Doesn’t he
have a name? Other than
Boy?
”

Thalamus rocked on his chair
and the entire trailer seemed to sway under his weight. “What’s it to you,
human?
Be careful, I don’t have the same affection for you and yours as does my
master. And if you don’t shut up, I may be forced to pull your tongue from your
head.”

Jacob groaned. Black
Frankenstein’s looks weren’t the only sour thing about him. He had an
unpleasant attitude to match.

The boy hovered halfway
between Thalamus and the two men. He took another look at the vampire, smiled,
said, “Safe,” and then he turned back to Jacob and Elliot before taking a few
steps closer.

Thalamus opened his mouth to
order the boy back, but a large blister popped at the corner of his mouth. A
stream of pus leaked into his mouth. He clamped his lips tight. Leaving the boy
to do as he pleased.

Jacob watched as his son drew
near. His heart pounded in his chest and his face twisted itself into a mixture
of desperation and pleasure. It must have looked dreadful, fangs and all,
because it stopped the boy from coming any closer. Jacob looked anxiously
towards the vampire, but it seemed otherwise distracted as it picked and poked
at the blister on its lip.

“It’s okay, we won’t hurt
you,” Jacob soothed.

The boy’s feet appeared
rooted to the floor. His innocent face looked deeply puzzled. He pointed to
Jacob’s face and said, “Danger.”

“No – no,” the tracker said.
“We’re friends. You know what friends are, don’t you?”

His boy’s finger remained
pointed outwards. “Yes.” His arm swept in a wide arc and finished with the
vampire as its mark. “Friend.”

Like hell, Jacob thought, but
held his silence. It didn’t matter, the boy sensed his loathing. He jabbed in
their direction and repeated, “Danger, danger.”

“No – friend,” Jacob
whispered.

The little boy fell silent.
Became apprehensive-looking.

“Friends,” Jacob repeated.

The boy’s eyes narrowed. He
wasn’t sure. He looked from Jacob to the burnt vampire, then back to the
tracker. Jacob nodded his head to emphasise the fact. “Friend… ” he urged. The
boy nodded, too, finally.

“Good boy,” Jacob said, and
smiled.

The boy’s face returned
instantly to a look of confusion. He reached out with one hand and pointed to
the fangs.

“Different… ” he said,
understanding they were not real.

Jacob clamped his mouth. What
could he tell the boy? That he’d had the fangs implanted as an aid to
destroying those that had looked after him and the ones he loved. No. Instead,
he said, “They’re to help find your mother.”

The boy blinked, two grey
green pools that mirrored nothing but innocence. “Mother… ” he breathed. He
looked for a second as if he might tumble to the floor, the single word more
powerful than anything else, physical or otherwise. He staggered back and his
little legs threatened to give. Jacob tried to reach out but the restraints
that bound his hands and feet held him firm. The boy tottered back and was only
saved from falling by the edge of the table.

The slight bump pulled the
dark vampire’s attention away from the open sore at his mouth. He looked up to
find the two captives staring in his direction. “What?” he asked, pus dripping
from his chin. Thalamus looked down and found the boy crouched by the side of
the table. “What have you done?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Jacob said
quickly.

Thalamus, a huge monstrosity
of charred flesh and weeping blisters, rose to his feet. He took two steps
around the table and stood towering over the boy. Wet patches appeared all over
his clothing as more blisters broke open to release rivers of yellow fluid. Reaching
down, he pulled the boy to his feet. “What is it, child?” he asked.

“Mother… ” he sobbed.

Thalamus frowned, and the
slight grimace sent another torrent of pus cascading over the hideous plain of
his face.

“Mother… ” the boy said
again.

“What have you done?”
Thalamus demanded.

“Nothing,” Jacob repeated.

The vampire’s chest swelled
and his shoulders seemed to reach from one side of the trailer to the other. He
grinned and the vision was ghastly, cruel and heartless. “My orders were to
protect the boy,” he said. “You’ve just given me all the reason I need to snap
your neck in two.” He stepped forwards and the Airstreamer tilted in his wake.

“Wait,” Elliot called, but
the vampire’s eye had fixed Jacob with its deadly stare. At the corner of the
single eye, lines appeared as the vampire grinned. Elliot tried to kick out,
but his feet fell short of their mark. The dark, soulless eye fell on him.
“Fear not, I’ll give you your chance to fight – after I crush the life from out
of this one.” He turned to Jacob, and the tracker had a moment to compare the
vampire to the beast in
New York
. Both were consumed by hatred and the lust for blood,
and the vampire had barely more self-control than the thing that terrorised the
shell of the
Empire
State
Building
.

Thalamus reached out. Yet
before the hand had a chance to crush flesh and bone, he heard a high-pitched
scream. He turned to find the boy rushing towards him. His mouth open and a cry
of rage breaking from peeled-back lips. For a second, Thalamus was surprised by
the look of fury in the boy’s eyes.

“No,” the boy cried. He threw
his arms around the vampire’s forearm and pulled it away from Jacob’s throat.
“No,” he cried again, tugging against the solid mass of burnt flesh.

Thalamus’s hand dropped away
from the tracker’s throat. “What is it?” he asked. Another scream came, but
this time it grew in pitch and amplitude from outside the trailer. Thalamus
frowned. What was
that
?

Jacob knew instantly.

Mortar fire.

In the next second, the
vampire understood also. “What the hell,” he mumbled through swollen lips. The
noise stopped abruptly, choked silent now, to be followed instantly by a mighty
clap of thunder. The entire trailer shook violently, and both vampire and boy
fell backwards, away from the two tethered captives. More sounds came as the
sky filled with artillery fire. They heard as a shell fell towards them. It
grew to an almost deafening pitch. Then the round slammed into the ground less
than twenty feet from the command centre. The shockwave picked the trailer up
and tossed it up and over, turning it onto its roof.