Vampire Apocalypse: A World Torn Asunder (Book 1) (7 page)

The room was murky; the only
light they could afford was a cloaked lantern in the centre of the
table whose pale light valiantly kept the darkness at bay. The
stale, cloying smell of fish and diesel oil hung heavily in the
air.

Harris returned his gaze to
Harrington. The stress of the last few weeks was beginning to show.
Harris took the time to really look at him and, for the first time,
noticed that the other man had lost quite a bit of weight. This
once virulent, powerful man, the former CEO of a major corporation,
seemed now to be shrinking. His shirt hung loosely on a frame that
had once bulged with hard muscle. His steel grey hair, worn in a
severe crew cut, had already begun to turn pure white. Harris could
see the frustration in Harrington’s face, and he worried about the
older man’s pasty complexion. Harrington had always been a tower of
strength for their motley band of survivors, but the stress of such
a responsibility was evident.

Tyrone Johnson sat at
Harrington’s right hand, as always. Johnson was thirty-five, mostly
bald, and fervently loyal to Harrington. He was already half out of
his seat, his face flushed with anger, when Harrington put a
calming hand on his shoulder and motioned him to relax. Johnson was
a likable man whose quick wit was one of the few things that
relieved the terrible pressure they all felt. He stood six foot
three and was well muscled. Harris got on well with Johnson but his
loyalty was unquestionably to Dan Harrington. He too was obviously
worried about Harrington’s health and, with nowhere else for his
frustration to go, he tended to react physically to anything or
anybody who threatened the older man.

Harris didn’t know all the
details but Harrington had known Johnson before the vampires had
come. Harrington had seemingly given the man the benefit of the
doubt when he had come out of prison when no one else would.
Harrington had returned the man’s pride by offering his trust and
he had never had cause to regret it.

Lucy Irving, a matronly woman of
indeterminable age, sat beside Johnson. She was terribly pale and,
positioned so close to Johnson’s massive dark figure; she seemed
uncommonly ashen and frail. She was neither though, Harris knew.
Lucy Irving had vast, hidden resources of inner strength and had a
brain that was, by no means, dulled with age. Harris could see her
shift her gaze between the two antagonists as if she were at a
tennis match. Her hand lay poised over a half-filled page of the
meeting’s minutes, pen at the ready. It’s funny, he thought, no
matter how circumstances changed people still tended to gravitate
to similar job roles in life.

Scott and Bill Anderson came
next in line. The twins shared the same easygoing attitude, a fact
reflected in how they carried themselves and dressed. Their fresh
faces, blue eyes and blond hair belied their sharp minds--until
they spoke, that is. Then it became evident there was more to them
than was evident at first.

To Harrington’s left sat John
Kelly, a wiry, un-likable man who could cause adverse emotions in a
complete stranger within minutes of their first meeting without
even trying. Kelly was an enigma to Harris. It was impossible to
engage the man in conversation and when you did manage to he had an
un-nerving tendency to look past you when he talked. Harris
couldn’t find it in him to trust anyone who couldn’t look him in
the eyes. Kelly was argumentative; he seemed to relish taking the
opposing side in an argument, in fact in any argument, even if he
had argued previously on the other side. But, despite all that, he
pulled his weight as his actions on yesterday’s raid had proved so
Harris tried his best to overlook his other failings.

Next to him sat Sandra
Harrington, strong-minded, independent and the daughter of “The
Boss,” as she referred to her father. Sandra Harrington wore her
hair tied tightly in a bun, though her long locks seemed to have a
mind of their own and constantly tried to free themselves. Even now
Harris could see a few errant strands that had fallen down and now
framed her pert, almost elfish features. She had green eyes which
seemed to spark with fire like flint over stone when she was angry
but also seemed to be able to turn to soft pools that Harris
constantly found himself lost in when he spoke to her.

These weekly meetings were not
the best forum to talk with her the way he wanted to and most of
their relationship so far had been lingering glances over this
table with the heady smell of fuel and stale fish in the air. Not
ideal by any means. There seemed to be something between them but
they had never had the time to let it develop. They were always
surrounded by others. Sometimes they managed to walk along the
docks for a few moments before they had to return to their
zombie-like existence but even then they had to keep an eye out for
the vampires and their stolen moments were usually spent looking
more at the sky than at each other. It was difficult to move a
relationship forward when you never got to talk to each other.
Harris wished for an opportunity to talk to her properly, to walk
with her in the sunshine …

“He’s right, you know.” John
Pritchard’s response suddenly interrupted Harris” thoughts and he
flushed in embarrassment as he hoped that no-one had noticed his
inattention. “In light of today’s debacle we have to assume they
know about the arm padding. By the next Injection Day they’ll
either have caught us all or we’ll be on the run. Either way we’ll
be dead inside a month. Personally, I’d prefer to take a few out
with me rather than end up as dinner.”

A chorus of murmurs swept
through the people gathered at the table.

“I agree with you, John,”
Harrington answered. The group leader wore a pained expression and
his eyes were tired. He brought his calloused hand to his face and
massaged his temple. He looked around the table and sighed. “But
it’s not that simple. We’re not talking about a small hit and run
attack here and there. We’d have to take on the vampires at night
and we’ve never done that before. Those bastards are fucking lethal
at night.”

Harrington paused as he let his
words sink in. He was well used to controlling conflicting
personalities around a table, he had spent his life doing it and it
really didn’t matter whether it was a war council or an executive
meeting. The decisions made here, however, would be the difference
between living and dying though and it was his responsibility to
steer them all along the correct path. He spent another moment
scanning the faces in front of him, making each of them feel that
he was speaking to them alone and then he continued.

“The thralls herded up most of
you after the plague hit, but some of us held out for a few days in
a police station outside of town. We managed to hold the thralls
off for two days and felt pretty cocky until one of the vampires
arrived.”

Harrington paused again,
glancing around the table for emphasis, and then continued.

“It took five minutes for that
bastard to demolish the building and take out twenty armed people.
They move at awesome speeds and can lift a man with one hand. They
can turn your mind inside out if you look at them, and these things
are useless against them.” He threw an automatic pistol on the
table and the weapon’s thud on the wood made everyone jump. “We
can’t go head-to-head with them. They’re too strong.”

Harrington had directed his last
words, and his stare, at Harris. The younger man tried to hold the
look, but then averted his eyes to glance around the table. He
could see that Harrington had hit home and he was losing this fight
once again. He knew that most of the people around this table saw
him as impotent, and these arguments had become something of a
regular occurrence. He continually pushed for more raids, more
risk, while Harrington would let him say his piece and then knock
him down with the same arguments.

Harris had gained support with
the younger committee members, but Harrington was very persuasive
and had, up till now, always won. This time, though, Harris firmly
believed that there wasn’t going to be another meeting unless they
did something drastic.

Harris made a decision and rose
to his full height, steeled himself and began to speak. “I know how
powerful these bastards are,” Harris looked down at the table to
avoid looking at anyone. He longed to tell them of his own
experiences before the vampires had taken him. He had kept his past
to himself when he had first been rescued from the serum, he still
didn’t understand why he had been spared when all the others had
been slaughtered. If he didn’t understand it how could he possibly
explain it to others? So he had decided to keep it to himself until
he could sort it out for himself. He had invented a story that he
had been in Chicago when the water had been contaminated by the
serum and had seen no action at all.

As the weeks became months he
found it harder and harder to admit his failure in protecting those
in his charge to his new friends. He had convinced himself that his
previous failures would only erode what little trust he had built
up with this group and when he finally realised that this was not
the case he had left it too late. To tell them now would only lead
them to mistrust him for keeping such a secret. The subterfuge was
eating away at him each time he met these people and he knew that
much of his own frustration was fuelled by his own guilt for hiding
such an important part of his life. He still spent many nights
going over and over what had happened before. He desperately
searched for something he had achieved that had made what had
happened worthwhile, but his failure to … He shook himself from his
maudlin thoughts, this wasn’t the time. He took a deep breath and
continued.

“I also know we may have little
chance of success, but two hundred people are about to be
slaughtered tomorrow night. This will be in direct retaliation for
our raid yesterday and I just can’t accept that.”

“They will be killed anyway,”
Harrington interrupted. “You can’t risk our entire group, and
possibly the last of this planet’s free people, on a matter of
morality.”

“Free?” Harris repeated
sarcastically. “You don’t call this existence free, do you? We’re
no freer than those other poor, drugged sods.” He paused and looked
around the table, meeting each person’s eyes in turn. “In fact,
we’re worse off. We have the ability to do something about it and
we’re just sitting here. Maybe we should forget the patches and
save the bastards the trouble of looking for us.”

He looked over at Sandra and
received a small smile and a wink in return.

“Tomorrow night,” he continued
taking heart from her support, “we have a chance to make a
difference. My plan calls for surprise. Yes, we might fail, but
think what success might mean. We total only twenty-four in number,
and that took us six months to achieve. After tomorrow we could
have two hundred more.”

“With that number we can all
leave the city and set up in the cave,” John Pritchard added with a
nod of encouragement to Harris. A low appreciative murmur rippled
though those present and Harris felt his blood racing as he felt
the mood shifting in his favour. He took a breath to continue but
Harrington interrupted and the moment was lost.

“We have discussed that till
we’re blue in the face,” Harrington replied wearily. “We can’t
survive out there. If we leave the city the vampires will know who
we are and search till they find us. At least here we’re
anonymous.”

“Not for much longer. How are we
going to bypass the injections now? The only reason Sandra, John,
Bill or myself are here now is because the thralls were too busy
kicking the shit out of Powell to notice us.”

Harrington suddenly looked down
at the table as Harris’ss words hit home. This was the first time
Harris had ever succeeded in making Harrington back down. Okay,
reminding him that his own daughter was in that group this morning
was a low blow, but there wasn’t time to debate morality anymore.
He could even see Tyrone Johnson thinking about how close the serum
check had been.

“Dan, we have no choice.” Harris
lowered his voice as he leaned over the table. “If we win tomorrow,
then we can really begin to hurt them.”

“And if we fail?” Harrington
asked with a raised eyebrow.

“If we fail,” Harris repeated,
“then at least we’ll take as many of those fuckers with us as we
can.”

For a moment the two men stared
at each other and it seemed that everyone held their breaths.
Neither gave way and the moment stretched uncomfortably. Everyone
at the table had been through Hell in the last few years. Everyone
at the table had a vote but there was no doubting that Harrington
and Harris had the strongest personalities or that their opinions
carried the most weight. Both also fervently believed they were
right and both men were prepared to put their lives on the line for
what they thought was best.

Unfortunately, neither man had
been trained for this type of situation and they could only draw on
their own experiences and beliefs. Their decisions, however, also
put the lives of others on that same line and, while a bad decision
in the boardroom might lead to job losses or a downturn in the
success of a company, the wrong decision here would lead to lives
being lost, and that wasn’t always something that was easy to live
with.

Harrington continued to run
through the various options in his head. He knew that everything
would change now that the thralls had caught Powell. Their backs
were to the wall. They had been an annoyance up to now. The thralls
had tolerated them, barely, when they had stolen supplies but
killing vampires had moved them up to their highest priority.

It had been mainly his decision
to shift their emphasis from stealing to killing and he didn’t
regret it. Being free of the serum had its own responsibility and
they couldn’t just sit back and let others suffer while they hid.
He hadn’t expected such an extreme reaction from the vampires
though. If they were to survive now they would have to leave the
comfort of their compact group and move to the next level. Harris
was right about that much, though whether he was reaching too far
too soon had yet to be seen. Slowly, a sad smile appeared on
Harrington’s face and he looked up into Harris’ss expectant
face.