Vampire Apocalypse: A World Torn Asunder (Book 1) (27 page)

And all the time the thralls
kept coming.

Rodgers heard the window to his
left shatter and he looked up in time to see a thrall point his gun
straight at him. With no time to think, Rodgers rolled out of the
way of this new threat as bullets tore up the floor where he had
lain. Unfortunately, the only space open to him was the open floor.
He found himself on his back looking up at four very surprised
thralls.

“Surprise,” Rodgers grinned and
then pulled the trigger. The thralls were so close to the weapon
that the bullets literally ripped through them and lifted the
bodies into the air. Blood spattered everywhere and the warm liquid
splashed across Rodgers” face. With no time to clear the blood, he
jumped to his feet and made a break for the stairs, dodging both
enemy and friendly fire on his way. The thrall at the window was
now inside and already others had begun to join him.

“Shit!” he muttered. He picked
up speed while the thralls gave chase.

Thralls were already on the
stairs when Rodgers hit the bottom of the steps at a run. They were
not expecting an attack from behind, and he poured fire into them
without missing a step. He sprinted past them as bullets flew past
his head and picked at his clothes.

“Stop firing, you blind
bastards!” he screamed. “Good guy coming through!” and he launched
himself flat on the landing as the men ahead of him sent a hail of
fire into the thralls chasing close behind.

Chapter 27

Dan Reiss knelt beside Bill
Anderson as they poured round after round into the hall below.
Bazooka fire and grenades had torn further holes in the structure,
and thralls seemed to pour into the house from every direction.
Their sheer number was overwhelming. No matter how many the men
killed, more appeared in their place. The stairs were littered with
the bodies of the dead and wounded. The carnage delayed the
thralls” advance as they climbed over the bodies.

Dan saw men crouched in doorways
along the hall. They kept the thralls pinned down while they dodged
out, fired and dodged back into the rooms before the thralls could
respond. Most of the fire was blind; bullets flew everywhere.
People on both sides died or grunted in pain when ricochets
embedded themselves in flesh and furniture at impossible
angles.

Grenades flew from side to side.
With the thralls so closely packed, every grenade explosion among
them took a terrible toll. Blood flowed down the wooded steps and
body after body fell while the humans defended the stairwell.
Despite the carnage; despite the death, the thralls kept coming.
Reiss could understand their single mindedness. Like the humans,
they too feared their masters and would surely pay dearly for
failure.

Slowly, inexorably, they forced
the humans back.

Bill Anderson screamed as a line
of bullets stitched across his chest. The force of the impact threw
him backward where he lay fighting for breath. Reiss glanced
quickly at his colleague and saw the damage to his chest. He knew
immediately he could do nothing to save him but Anderson was still
alive and his eyes suddenly met Reiss” and he began to inch forward
toward him. The sheer volume of fire forced Reiss to retreat
further down the hall, while bullets flew around him and drove
splinters of wood and masonry into his flesh. And all the time
Anderson stared at him, imploring him to help. There was nothing
Reiss could do for Anderson and it would be madness to try and
reach him, but still, those eyes seemed to stare at him in
judgement and Reiss despaired.

He heard a scream behind him and
glanced back in time to see Scott Anderson suddenly launch himself
to his feet and run down the landing toward the thralls. He
screamed at the top of his lungs for his fallen brother, his rage
evident in his face while he ran. The gun bucked wildly in his
hands as he ploughed into the first line of thralls.

The blood-spattered vision
coming toward them took the thralls completely by surprise. They
panicked and tried to retreat back the way they had come.
Unfortunately for them, too many others were pushing from behind.
Anderson caught them from his end and strafed his weapon from side
to side while he screamed his grief. The front line of thralls
dropped, but the second line pushed past and returned fire. Reiss
was torn. Running after Anderson was suicide, but he couldn’t just
stay here and do nothing.

Under cover of the confusion
from Anderson’s mad sprint he started forward again. He regained
his position beside the still form of Bill Anderson to provide
covering fire. The stairway was a scene of utter confusion. The
thralls had recovered from the initial shock and had already
regrouped to advance again. On the top stair Scott screamed his
rage and he pumped round after round into the advancing horde.

Tears welled up in Reiss” eyes
when he saw Scott spin backward. A bullet ripping through his
shoulder, and the force of the impact forced Scott to drop his
weapon. For a second there was total silence, and then Scott turned
again to the thralls. Unarmed, he stood defiantly at the top of the
stairs when the thralls opened fire at point blank range. The sheer
volume of fire tore him apart. He was already dead long before he
slumped to the ground. The thralls gathered around the body and
spat on it when they passed. Reiss could do nothing but use this
distraction to retreat again down the corridor. He noted as he past
that although Bill Anderson’s eyes still stared at him he too had
died.

It had become impossible to see
inside the upper floors of the house. The smoke from the explosions
and small fires added to the gloom of the descending darkness.
Harris fired at any flashes of light in the hall or shifting of
shadows. He couldn’t see any of his colleagues and dared not shout
out to them in case he gave his own position away.

Suddenly a dark shadow ran
toward him and he brought up his gun to fire only to ease off the
trigger at the last minute. “Nearly blew your fool head off,” he
chastised Rodgers when he came level. “It’s just as well I
recognised that stupid grin of yours.”

“You’d probably have missed
anyway the way you shoot.” Rodgers tried to grin, but the
enthusiasm just wasn’t there. Too many friends lay dead on this
landing and he could hear others scream for help where they lay in
the gloom. “How many are left?” he asked.

“No idea,” grunted Harris.
“There’s sporadic fire over there,” he indicated the far end of the
landing, “but other than that I don’t hear anyone.” Harris rolled
out into the hall and sent a burst of fire down the landing to keep
the advancing thralls in check.

“Nearly dark,” Rodgers
commented, “they’ll be here soon.”

“Yea, let’s hope we’ve bought
them enough time.”

“Do you really think we can
win?” Rodgers asked.

“Probably not, but we’ll take a
few of these fuckers with us.”

Dan Harrington stood at the Cave
door and listened to the muffled sounds of battle through the large
metal entrance. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal and
cringed with every shot.

“We can’t just sit here and
wait, Dad.” Sandra Harrington looked into her father’s eyes.

“Crockett was adamant we keep
this door closed no matter what we heard. If the thralls get in
here it’s all over.” He looked around for support. “Father Reilly,
you tell her.” his eyes pleaded with the priest.

Reilly listened to the staccato
bursts of gunfire and the occasional deep thump of explosions and
sighed deeply, “Sandra,” he began, “your father …”

“No!” Sandra Harrington
interrupted. “I don’t accept that. How can letting them die
possibly be the right thing to do?” The tears began to roll down
her cheeks, but her face was set in a determined manner. “We’re in
this together. Hiding here like frightened rabbits, even if we do
survive, is no victory at all. I want no part of it.”

The house was quiet. There
hadn’t been a shot for a full five minutes and both sides used the
time to take stock. Muffled whispers were barely audible through
the gloom. An occasional cough or splutter was the only audible
sounds. Harris and Rodgers inched their way along the last few feet
of the landing and looked for a way back down to the ground floor.
They had run out of room on the landing and the next push from the
thralls would overrun their position.

Dan Reiss nearly tripped over
Vince Crockett when he retreated to the other wall of the far
landing.

“Did you see anyone else?”
Crockett asked.

“Afraid not.”

Just then there was a sound of
pounding feet on the landing as the thralls began the final
push.

“Give me your gun,” Crockett
reached out for the weapon. “I’ll cover you while you try and get
downstairs.”

“No way,” Reiss protested,
“we’ll go together or--” Reiss looked down at Crockett and noticed
his injuries for the first time. His shirt was soaked in blood and
his left hand was clutched tightly against his stomach, holding his
insides in place.

“Oh my God,” Reiss exclaimed,
“let me try--”

“No point, I can’t move. Now get
out of here before they reach us.”

Reiss delayed another few
seconds and wrestled with his conscience. The sudden eruption of
gunfire from the stairs startled him into action, and he ran to the
end of the landing while Crockett opened up and sprayed fire down
the landing. Reiss heard Crockett scream abuse at the approaching
thralls. After too short a time the screaming and the gunfire
stopped.

Harris hung from the top floor
landing while bullets tore into the wooden balustrades. Rodgers
stood over him and pumped round after round into the advancing
thralls. A bullet embedded itself in the wood under Harris” fingers
and splinters ripped into his flesh. He screamed in pain, lost his
grip and fell to the floor below.

His fall was cushioned by dead
bodies. Blood splattered over him while he waded through the
carnage. Above him Rodgers spun around from the force of a bullet
and fell toward him, headfirst, his body limp. Harris rushed to
break the man’s fall. He launched himself at the falling figure and
managed to get his arms around Rodgers and straighten his prone
form so that he fell on his back and not his neck.

The thralls completed their
sweep above and started firing over the balcony. Harris grabbed the
unconscious Rodgers and pulled him to an alcove where he quickly
examined him. A bullet had grazed his head. Blood oozed from the
wound and another had taken a chunk of flesh from the soft flesh of
his upper arm on its way clean through. Harris tore his shirt and
pressed the rag against the wound in an effort to stem the flow of
blood.

Thralls now occupied the entire
house and still they continued to pour in. Harris brought his
weapon up with his free hand and heard the dull click when the
hammer fell on an empty chamber.

Overhead he could hear the
thunderous sound of wings.

The door, hidden in a recess
under the stairs, opened and immediately shot a beacon of light
through the dark. The sudden appearance of the light took many
thralls by surprise, and the invading force had a small but
important advantage when they pushed into the crowded hall. Harris
saw the figure of Sandra Harrington burst through the light and
open fire on the startled thralls. Harris grabbed Rodgers and made
his way through the confusion to the open door.

Dan Reiss also saw the door open
and felt renewed hope. He had landed heavily on the floor when he
had tried to avoid the thralls, and now pain shot through his ankle
when he put any weight on it. He steeled himself against the pain
and limped toward the rescue party. His ankle gave way with a
sickening crack and he fell again. He looked and saw the bone
protruding at an awkward angle. He could go no further.

“Hang on,” he heard. The
closeness of the voice startled him and he instinctively brought
his gun up.

“Don’t be stupid,” the voice
continued, “if I wanted you dead you’re not really in any position
to stop me, now are you?”

Reiss didn’t have a choice, so
he allowed the stranger to approach. Before the figure swept him up
and carried him to the door, he caught a glimpse of a stocky, solid
build topped by grey hair. The thralls recovered quickly and had
already forced the rescue party back with their superior numbers.
Sandra looked around and spotted Harris slip behind the thralls and
move to the Cave entrance.

“Are there any more?” she
shouted over the gunfire. Harris shook his head and continued on
into the Cave. “All right, people, let’s wrap it up and get back
inside,” she shouted and the humans retreated under a blanket of
fire.

Just as they were about to shut
the door Sandra saw a figure struggling with a man over his
shoulder.

“Hold it!” she ordered and
reopened the door for the approaching figures. She stopped suddenly
and barred the door when she noticed the uniform and brought the
gun around to point directly at the thrall. “Just drop him and
leave!” she barked.

The General eased the man off
his shoulder and allowed the humans to take him inside.

“Why?” Sandra asked.

“There’s been enough senseless
killing, don’t you think?”

Sandra Harrington nodded and
went to close the door.

“Good luck,” the stranger
added.

“Thank you,” she replied and
then the door closed.

“Lieutenant, we have him,” the
sergeant reported happily when his men dragged the General before
their new commander.

“Excellent,” the Lieutenant
replied “What about the humans?”

“We’ve cleared the house, about
twenty dead, and the rest escaped into a hidden doorway. We are
setting explosives now to gain entry.”

“And our own losses?”

“Um, sir, we haven’t had time to
ascertain the full…”