Vampire Apocalypse: Descent Into Chaos (Book 2) (16 page)

Wentworth ducked beneath the first blow but he did
not see the wing that followed the first swipe and he felt the
point tear into his side and gouge a long furrow along his side.
Blood spurted from the wound, quickly drenching his clothes. Blood
was the most precious commodity to a vampire; if they lost too much
they lost their strength, their healing abilities and finally their
very life essence. Wentworth began to lose height, his body already
beginning to heal around the wound. But he had lost a lot of blood
and vampires could not replenish blood by themselves. He would have
to feed.

He looked upwards and saw Von Kruger following him
down, his face pulled back into a grotesque grin, a parody of the
creature he had become and the remnants of his own features.
Wentworth hit the ground hard and he felt a bone snap in his
shoulder. He rolled away as fast as he could but sharp talons raked
his back and pain exploded through him. Von Kruger landed lightly
next to him and seemed to shimmer as he changed again. He still
wore that insane grin on his face as he bent towards Wentworth as
if to whisper.

Suddenly one of Wentworth’s vampires flew directly
into Von Kruger, bending the master vampire double and carrying him
away as the two figures struggled. Wentworth looked around quickly
and took in the situation. Von Kruger’s vampires were all much
older than any of Wentworth’s and they fought with a ferocity borne
of ancient abilities and arcane knowledge. They had all changed to
a fighting shape they were comfortable with and they held their
foes, outnumbered though they were, easily at bay. Every vampire he
could see was bleeding from deep wounds that ravaged their bodies,
but still they fought.

Wentworth pulled himself to his feet and felt the
world swirl around him dangerously. His body was no longer healing
but fluids still seeped from his ruined flesh. He heard a groan to
his left and he looked over toward the shredded ruins of a tank. He
saw one of his own thralls pulling himself from the wreckage, his
eyes glued to the scenes of violence around him.

“My Lord,” he began as he noticed Wentworth stagger
towards him. Wentworth ignored the soldier, grabbed his head
roughly and bent the thrall’s throat to him. He sank his teeth into
the thrall’s exposed flesh and blood spurted into his mouth.
Immediately he could feel warmth spread through his body. Liquid
fire seemed to thunder through his veins at incredible speeds,
filling him with strength. His wound began to heal again almost
immediately as he continued to suck greedily.

All too quickly the blood stopped and the thrall was
empty. The hunger still gnawed at him but it had been enough,
barely. He looked for Von Kruger and he saw him behead the vampire
who had saved him. Wentworth suddenly grew cold with fear. He had
attacked Von Kruger and his vampires but he had never had any
intention of actually killing any of them. It just was not done.
His attack had been merely to stop them tearing his thralls and
their equipment to pieces, and if they inflicted a little pain then
so much the better. But to kill another vampire went beyond insane.
Wentworth watched as Von Kruger flung the dead vampire to the side,
and then the ancient master saw him and snarled.

Wentworth could see no sanity or control in those
eyes, only battle lust. For the first time since he had become a
vampire Wentworth knew true fear. He looked around him and saw that
his cabal was busy, and then he noticed something else. The sky was
beginning to grow lighter. In all the confusion he had lost track
of time. It was nearly dawn.

The first tentative tendrils of light began to
scratch at the sky. It would not be long before the light spread
out towards them and killed them all if they did not leave now. He
screeched out a call to his squadron and, with a last look at Von
Kruger, he spread his arms, the flesh shimmering and changing as
his wings grew, and then he launched himself into the sky and
headed back towards his side of the border.

As he passed over the remains of the battlefield he
could still see sporadic fighting. It would be a whole day before
he could count the cost of tonight’s carnage. Though one thing was
certain; things had changed irrevocably.

Major William Carter watched the dark shapes of the
vampires launch themselves up into the brightening sky. He had only
caught the end of that encounter but the vampires had moved so
quickly that he was not entirely sure what had happened. His forces
had made their way through five camps and all enemy forces had now
been repelled back behind their own lines.

However, as he surveyed the smoking husks of the
destroyed and damaged vehicles around him he realized that the cost
had been far too high. Hundreds of thralls were dead, thousands of
gallons of fuel had been destroyed or stolen and even some of their
tanks had been captured and driven back across the border. In all,
it had been a debacle. There were few survivors in the camps they
had retaken, though any who had survived would take the full
responsibility of the failure and he did not envy them.

He had been lucky that his forces had been beside the
attack zone and not part of the front that had been breached. His
luck was still holding, but he realized, the rules had just changed
yet again. The repercussions from tonight would be far reaching.
There would be worse to come and he no longer relished the chance
for further advancement. It was getting too dangerous in this new
world.

Harris and his small group arrived back at the
headquarters five hours after polling had started. Any good the
committee had managed to salvage from their open meeting had been
quickly eroded when news that their main candidate had failed to
turn up for the election.

They tried hard to explain that Harris was out saving
others, that his actions were critical to all of their futures, but
it was hard to sway people when your candidate was not present. It
was made worse as well by the fact that Regan had made an amazing
speech. He had managed to apologize, appear contrite and garner new
support all at the same time. It was a masterstroke of public
speaking and a testament to the man’s abilities. It was just a
shame he was such a rat.

There was a late surge of support for the original
committee when Harris arrived back at the base with another thirty
bedraggled and under-fed prisoners newly rescued from their
mission—but his insistence in seeing his wounded safely to the
hospital, though commendable, did not endear him to those still
undecided. They wanted to be wooed for their vote, and by the time
Harris did finally appear at the polling station his ragged
appearance and bloodstained visage put some voters off. In the end,
the result was predictable.

It would not be announced officially till the end of
the week, but few doubted that Regan would win the election and the
scramble to fill the various positions of power began almost before
the poll closed.

Harris was bone tired as he left the polling station
and headed towards the rooms that served as a hospital. He had not
had the time yet to check in on Sandra and he felt guilty as he
walked along the corridors of their new building. People passed by,
some of them nodding to him and others quickly looking away as if
embarrassed. He didn’t recognize most of them and he realized with
a start that he really had been away on missions too often of
late.

Everything had changed. The community was growing
faster than he could keep track of. Decisions were being made that
would have an impact on thousands of people rather than just a
handful. What had begun as a small resistance had grown to a level
that had outgrown him, and he felt isolated. It was getting so that
he was more comfortable out on missions that he was in one of the
number of buildings that now comprised their headquarters.

It was no wonder that he were losing support. He had
been brought up to date on what had happened and he could see that
his actions had only made things worse. But he would do it again if
he had to, as he still saw that what he had done was the right
thing to do. They had saved another thirty people and had set in
motion a plan that could save many more lives. He could have stayed
home and shook hands with the voters, could have pleaded for his
seat on the government, but he was not prepared to do this at the
expense of people’s lives. Everything they did now had an impact on
their future and carries with it a responsibility that was bigger
than any one person. Even the simplest of decisions were more
complicated and he was no longer sure he was the right man for the
job.

He was finding that issues of morality sometimes had
to take a backseat to necessity. Choosing who would be taken with
them and who would have to stay till the next time, if the next
time ever came at all, were gnawing at him. What right did he have
to choose? It was better that some were saved, of course, but he
just did not feel qualified to have the last word. The faces of
those he had left behind haunted his dreams and he did not know how
much longer he could go on.

Even though he had not spent too much time studying
their faces he was able to recreate their features perfectly when
he closed his eyes. Their faces joined those of the men and women
who had died in Boston, and it was too much for him to bear. And
now, if they lost the election—or when they lost the election—would
anybody care about the millions who would die from the serum’s
effects? Was Regan serious about ignoring the evidence? Did he not
realise that if the vampires had no food that they would scour the
planet for the last drop of blood?

His thoughts were interrupted as he came to the room
that now served as the recovery and observation ward. Sandra was
sitting up, watching the new arrivals being shuffled towards beds
where they would spend the next few days being weaned off the
serum. Harris inhaled sharply as he saw her and forced a smile as
she noticed him. She looked terrible. Her eyes seemed to have sunk
further into her skull, her normally luxuriant hair was flat and
lank, and her face was pale, so pale she nearly blended in with the
pillow propped up behind her.

He had been told that she had been overdoing it but
the reality of her appearance was still a shock.

“Hey you,” he smiled as he drew closer and leaned in
to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

“I’ve waited two weeks for you to come back and
that’s all I get.” She smirked up at him and grabbed the back of
his head and pulled him close for a full kiss.

“How are you?” he asked when she finally let him
go.

“Bored,” she pouted. “They won’t let me leave.”

“That’s probably because you’ve been sneaking out too
often for the last few days.”

“But someone had to try and remind people that there
are other issues to consider other than hiding away and hoping the
vampires will just disappear.” Harris could see the spark in her
eyes. She cared too much. Ever since her father had been killed she
had tried to keep busy, though her wound had kept her bedridden for
some time now. She did not want to spend time thinking, she wanted
to do something. Unfortunately, things in the community were
changing too quickly for her to be able to keep up and the enforced
rest was driving her mad.

“I know,” he soothed and reached for her hand.

“How did it go?” she asked, squeezing his hand and
smiling. Harris could see the toll his absence had taken on her. As
well as losing her father and nearly losing her own life, Harris
had been gone for nearly two weeks and the stress and worry were
taking their toll.

Harris filled her in on the events of the previous
days, mentioning, but not dwelling on, the wounds both Steele and
Roberts had received.

“So what happens now?”

“Well, hopefully by the time we go back out both
sides will be too busy watching each other to notice us pilfering
their supplies. If the fighting escalates we might be able to get
to the outlying towns and rescue more people if more guards are
pulled to the front. But there’s just no way we’re going to get
into the cities.” Harris had agonized over it for a long time now
but there was just no way he could justify a major assault and risk
so many lives when the chances of success were dubious at best. It
still didn’t stop him from feeling guilty, though. Millions would
die over the next few months and there was nothing they could
do.

“Anyway,” he brightened, “I’ve had a talk with the
doctor and he’s going to let you out tonight. I’m going to cook you
a meal and I’ll have you back by nine. How does that sound?”

She nodded and then yawned.

“You get some sleep and I’ll be back later.” He stood
and watched as her eyes grew heavy. She was a long way from being
recovered yet but the doctor had been optimistic, as long as she
let her body recover. He moved away and went in search of
Steele.

His wounds were not as simple. One of the bullets had
lodged close to a nerve and they did not have a surgeon, let alone
one skilled enough to remove it.

Down the corridor he heard an eruption of shouting
and cheers. Through the din he heard a name being chanted over and
over. Oh God, he thought, that’s really all we need. The words
seemed to mock him as they reverberated along the corridor. REGAN,
REGAN, REGAN.

It appeared that there was a new sheriff in town.

“Hey, Pat,” Harris stuck his head around the door and
greeted the small man bent over his desk.

“My dear boy,” Pat Smith beamed as he recognized
Harris and pulled away from his microscope, blinking myopically as
he adjusted to the focus. Smith’s face was usually quite somber
from spending most of his time in his lab searching for a way to
help in the fight against the vampires. He had already done so
much. He had discovered the fatal side effects that the serum would
soon wreak on those humans still held in captivity.