Vampire Apocalypse: Descent Into Chaos (Book 2) (24 page)

Harris was dangerous. He was a loose cannon who could
very well get them all killed. Phelps had spent a long time gaining
support in this community, and he was damned if he’d let an idiot
with a God complex ruin it for him. The situation could still be
contained. Even if Harris did succeed and came back with his
vehicles filled with more wretched survivors he could still outplay
him.

He would welcome them all back with open arms; take
in his pathetic booty and honor the sacrifice they had all made. He
would appear the bigger man. He would wait and wait. He would
ensure that all the heroes of the raid were reassigned to new
positions, commensurate with their great sacrifice, of course, and
when no one expected it, he would strike. Revenge was far better
served cold. All he had to do was wait for Harris to make a
mistake, and that shouldn’t take too long. The bastard just
couldn’t help himself.

Snow began to fall and he looked up and smiled. A new
beginning was dawning. A new beginning with him in control. Regan
had been useful getting to where they were now but it was nearly
time for him to have an unfortunate accident. It would be tragic,
of course, but their future required great sacrifices. He had his
own ideas about how the community would grow from here, and he
should not have to suffer an idiot like Regan for much longer.

Thank God Harris had not had time to do anything
about his ridiculous plan to tell the vampires about their
existence. Was the man mad? So what if the serum killed the humans
still in captivity? It would also kill the vampires. All they had
to do was remain in hiding for a few more months and then they
could emerge as masters of a new world. At least…he would emerge as
master. Patricia was a useful Lieutenant but she had a very limited
imagination. As long as he kept her involved she would be happy to
be his second-in-command. She didn’t have the vision to rule and,
more importantly, she accepted this.

Oh yes, he thought as a smile crossed his usually
dour features, this was working out nicely.

Falconi paled as the first of the vampires arrived.
At first he thought that he had imagined it. There was a distant
rustling, like leather rubbing against sandpaper, but it was early
yet and the sun was still setting so he had ignored it at first.
The sound continued, however, and grew in volume, persisting like
the nagging droning of bees in summer. He looked up but storm
clouds filled the sky, their steel grey hue making it seem colder
than it was. He couldn’t see anything. The sun had stayed low all
day, as if the oncoming night had infused it with a sense of
lethargy that prevented it from pulling itself up into its rightful
place. The storm clouds only further served to overshadow the day,
and by early afternoon it was already like early evening.

They’re here, he realized suddenly and shivered.
Falconi looked up and felt his stomach churn as a sea of blackness
suddenly blotted out what remained of the sun’s feeble
illumination. He was reminded briefly of an old war film he had
seen where the night sky was blotted out by hundreds of bombers as
they headed towards their destination to drop their rain of death
over Germany. He remembered thinking at the time that the sheer
power and majesty of those huge machines must have been incredible
as their thunderous growling shook buildings as they passed high
above. The vampires’ passing was even more frightening than that
though. The lack of bone shaking engines heralding their power was
even more ominous as they filed past in relative silence. Their
bulk washed above him, rolling blackness across an already pale sky
as they passed, like a cancer corrupting and twisting everything it
touched. The landscape around him seemed to disappear as the
darkness cast a shadow as evil and total as he could have ever
imagined. He wondered idly if the light would ever come again.

He took a breath, held it, and prepared to deliver
his report. He remained in place for what seemed an age, but
nothing happened. The vampires continued to pass overhead, their
rustling grating on his nerves. How many are there? He felt very
small as he stood in the lighted clearing, the flames valiantly
holding back the blackness around him and illuminating his presence
for his masters, though in truth they did not need the light. He
was able to admit now that the light was more for his benefit than
theirs. He could not bring himself to face them in total darkness.
But it looked like he would not have to. He felt relief flood
through him, and then a colder fear gripped him. Where was it all
going to end? The recent escalations, the changes in behavior in
the vampires, their unprecedented displays of anger, and now they
were charging into battle without forming some cohesive plan with
the rest of their forces. It just didn’t make sense. What is going
on?

“Steady,” Major William Carter urged his men as he
watched the silent tide of ebony roll towards them. God, there are
so many, he thought as his bowels threatened to lose control. His
whole body shook with fear and from something deeper, something
primal that nagged at his core. He had prepared himself all day for
this moment when his body would try to rebel against any action
that threatened his masters. His own strong sense of survival had
forced down the programming all day, allowing him to encourage the
men, beat them when necessary, and cajole them when not.

They had prepared as best they could. Each man stood
in defense of the border with weapons ready. Machine guns and
grenades stood side by side with staffs of pointed wood, their
points wickedly sharp and pointed upwards toward the oncoming mass.
Their orders were simple. If the vampires passed over them then
they were to defend against the anticipated thrall follow-through
attack, but, if the vampires attacked, then they should take as
many of them as they could before they were overrun.

Now that the time was upon them and the vampires were
so close Carter felt his resolve slipping. There were just so many.
What had he been thinking? They were too powerful. He looked along
the line of his men and could see their own doubts and fears
plainly on their faces. If one of them ran, then they would all
collapse. He forced himself along the line; encouraging the men
with a confidence he did not feel and supported their bravery with
a certainty he no longer felt. Maybe the vampires will ignore them,
he thought briefly as his legs wobbled with each step. He looked up
and saw the darkness begin to split into smaller groups as the
vampires began their descent. Each group seemed to be composed of
three or four dark shapes, and each one picked a point along the
line of thralls and fanned out along the border.

Carter lost sight of most of them as they blended
into the darkness, but he didn’t care what happened further along
the line. He only cared for himself. His stomach churned as he saw
three smaller groups of vampires swoop towards him. He saw one
thrall falter and drop his staff as he backed away from the front
line and Carter immediately rushed forward and thrust his own staff
into the thralls back and out through his chest. Other thralls
around the fallen soldier paled and looked between Carter and the
approaching vampires.

“There are only a few of them,” Carter shouted. “They
will not be expecting us to fight back. Hold fast and we will all
survive, falter and I guarantee you will die.” He saw thralls nod
and set their jaws as they turned to face their masters. Words
spread along the line of men and Carter beamed as he saw the effect
of his speech.

Now, if only he could believe his own words.

The vampires came in with a confidence borne of
superior strength and a disdain emboldened by the knowledge that
their targets could not fight back. Peter Jacobs stretched his
wings out to catch the drafts of air. Wentworth had allowed him the
honor of tearing the thralls to pieces. He was a new vampire, like
Wentworth, but had quickly risen in the ranks because of his
inherent vicious streak and the fact that he had been able to adapt
more quickly to his new powers than most of the others.

Wentworth had nearly three hundred vampires in his
cabal throughout the state, and just over a hundred had already
answered the summons for the attack. The others were on their way
from towns and cities from across the state but it was unlikely
that they would arrive tonight. Jacobs found it strange that no
orders had been sent for some of the vampires to remain behind and
guard their other borders, but he was hardly going to question
Wentworth. It was strange though. Wentworth was a planner, a
vicious planner, yes, but one who would not normally ignore logic
for the sake of a direct response.

Von Kruger had broken so many old rules that such
retaliation was justified, of course, but surely Wentworth was
overreacting? The older vampires in the other states could very
well use this opportunity to strike at them while they were
occupied here. Territorial disputes rarely ended with anyone having
to return captured land. Vampires were usually of the opinion that
if you were too weak to hold your territory then you deserved to
lose it.

Either way, Jacobs would follow orders. But he
couldn’t help but wonder at Wentworth’s un-characteristic behavior.
Of the one hundred and twenty vampires in the current force, Jacobs
commanded twenty-four split into six smaller task forces. Each
group was spread out over the five miles of border and was ordered
to tear a hole through the thrall defenses and leave the remains
for their own thrall forces to mop up.

As he swept down, Jacobs smelled fresh blood on the
air. His mouth salivated wildly; there really was no substitute for
ripping into live flesh and draining a body of its blood. He had
become a vampire early on in the war, so had experienced the joy of
battle and of gorging on humans, something that all the easy access
to the blood of captive humans just could not duplicate. He looked
down at the thralls below him but he did not study their numbers or
their deployment. They were inconsequential. Doubts and concerns
slipped away as he felt the tug of battle and the scent of blood.
He surged down, eager to be first to tear and rend and gorge.

He felt invincible.

Carter watched the vampires come at them and he
forced himself to stand tall. He gripped his sharpened staff until
his hands went numb. The vampires rode the air currents, their
wings spread out in impressive spans that never failed to impress
him. They were magnificent. He watched, almost hypnotized by their
grace, and then his mind seemed to click into focus and he shouted
to his men to prepare.

The vampires were approaching slowly and Carter felt
a spark of hope in his chest. They could have approached them with
such speed that they would not hope to have put up a worthy
defense. They should be coming at them at blurring speeds, but
their current approach was designed merely to terrify. They did not
think that the thralls were any threat to them. Why should
they?

“They are overconfident men,” and with good reason,
he added to himself. “Let us show them we are not merely frightened
sheep. Show them we are more than slaves.”

The first vampire swooped down a fraction of a second
ahead of the others and five thralls lurched forward to meet their
former master. Carter saw the vampire’s wide grin of anticipation
slip as the thralls moved toward it and not away in terror as he
had expected. For a brief, delicious moment he saw fear in the
vampire’s eyes and then the men plunged their staffs into the
creature and its shriek split the night.

The other vampires could not pull back from their
descent. They were fully committed to the attack but they did
manage to bring their talons forward to rake and tear at the
thralls that stood against them. The night erupted into chaos.
Talons ripped living flesh and wooden staffs tore into undead flesh
as the thralls crowded around to vent their rage and terror on
their masters.

Staffs plunged deeply into his body and Jacobs
screamed. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he thought as the pain
brought him to his senses. The smell of blood had overwhelmed him
and made him ignore the fact that his enemy was not retreating in
terror as he had expected. He surged backwards, ripping staffs from
the hands of the thralls around him and sending the soldiers flying
helplessly in every direction. He lashed out and carved a deep
furrow across the chest of one of the thralls. Pain surged through
him but the smell of fresh blood in the air urged him on.

He swiped at the wooden staffs with his backhand,
smashing the frail wooden handles easily but leaving their
sharpened points still in his flesh. They hurt, but at least he
could move freely now. He would remove them later when he had time.
He grabbed the nearest thrall and wrenched him towards him before
tearing into his flesh and sucking greedily at his exposed throat.
The pain eased and he felt a new strength surge through him,
numbing the pain and filling his muscles with more power than he
had thought possible.

He bellowed in rage and ecstasy and set about the
thralls around him. He was dimly aware of his colleagues being
pressed back by the thralls. He noticed that one of his number lay
on the ground motionless, a hastily but accurately thrown staff
sticking out from his heart but none of these things truly
concerned him. He felt the bloodlust pull at him, calling to him to
lose himself in its powerful embrace, but he held back, keeping his
mind sharp and his wits sharper as he fought back.

Carter watched his men mill about the vampires. He
saw one thrall throw his staff at a vampire. For a moment he
thought the thrall had panicked and he was about to shoot the
soldier when he heard a shriek of pain to his left and a vampire
dropped from the air like a sack. There was no great flash or
sudden disintegration like he had seen on television years before.
The vampire was dead, as quickly and easily as any human when you
hit them in the right place. This gave the other thralls heart and
they redoubled their efforts. A sea of staffs were thrown towards
the vampires and their sharpened points penetrated flesh easily,
though none hit the vampires with the same accuracy as the first
had done.