Vampire Apocalypse: Descent Into Chaos (Book 2) (29 page)

The others nodded and went into the cage to pull the
first bodies toward the waiting truck. Shit, Harris cursed. We were
so close to getting so many clear. He turned and headed towards the
pulsing light of the thrall camp and began to run.

He heard the strangest noise as he cleared the town
centre. It was a deep, rhythmic pulsing intermingled with a
screeching, high-pitched hissing like high-pressure steam. It was
so out of place that he could not place it at first and then he saw
a metal behemoth roll out of the shadows. He was stunned as the old
engine materialized from the darkness with a slow, periodic
clicking as the wheels hit the track breaks.

A train, he thought. Shit, if only we could only use
something like …

“Hey, Harris!”

He jumped as he heard the shout. He dropped to the
ground as he looked behind him but could not see anyone at first.
He brought his weapon to bear but it looked clear ahead of him.
Orange light bled into the darkness from the flames and painted the
night sky with an eerie canvas. He still couldn’t see anyone and
the noise of the approaching train left him deafened to everything
else as the engine spat and hissed as it labored toward him.

“Harris!” He heard the shout again and looked towards
the engine cab in time to see Flemming lean out and wave to him.
What the…?

He saw Sherman behind Flemming and his look of
confusion turned to one of shock as he realized what they had
planned. They can’t be serious.

“What do you mean it’s too dangerous?” Sherman
shouted over the noise of the engine. The three men were in the
engine cab and Flemming was bringing it to a gentle halt towards
the back of the town and close to where their truck was parked.
“What exactly do you consider tonight’s little excursion? It’s no
crazier than any of your other schemes, and this time you finally
get to make that big impact you’re always looking for.

Harris went quiet as he thought of the implications
of Sherman’s plan. It was sheer madness to escape with such a large
and noisy vehicle. The smoke billowing from the funnel could be
seen for miles and the noise was incredible. On the other hand,
they would be able to fit almost all of the several hundred humans
in the cage onto the train and would increase their numbers by
almost a thousand if they could get them back safely. That would be
enough to put up a good fight if they were discovered.

Steele would tell the vampires of the serum’s
effects, and in so doing the vampires would be made aware of the
human’s existence. However, they still had two things going for
them. One: the vampires would be busy trying to keep their human
captives in line without the serum and two: they would not know
exactly where they were. Von Richelieu only knew that Nero had
requested Steele to help him with a problem. He would have to scour
the state to find them, and they had hidden themselves well. If
they could get these people back safely then they might really have
a chance.

He looked at Sherman and nodded slowly.

“I thought you’d like it.” Sherman grinned at him,
and for a moment Harris had the impression of a wolf regarding its
prey, but then it was gone. The train shuddered to a halt close to
where the others stood near the over-full truck they had arrived
in. Flemming hadn’t quite got the hang of stopping yet but was
improving all the time.

“We’ll have to hurry,” Harris shouted over the
hissing steam as he leapt to the ground to the shocked stares from
Sandra and the others. “The damage you caused back at the camp was
just too extensive for them to ignore, even with all that’s going
on.”

“Cool, we get to play John Wayne,” Rodgers exclaimed
as Harris passed him. Harris was so pleased to see his friend’s old
humor return, no matter how briefly, and they all laughed despite
the terrible cacophony of destruction that surrounded them.

As Steele passed across the border between that of
Von Kruger and a particularly violent Vampire called Hennessey, he
began to watch for patrols in earnest. Hennessey’s men would have
been on high alert with all the activity between his neighboring
states and, no doubt, would be eager to exploit any advantage he
could if one side were to be weakened.

It would take him two days hard riding to reach
Richelieu’s headquarters. By that time news could already have
spread about the war between Von Kruger and Wentworth. If even half
the details were known by the time he got there, a late ex-employee
would be the last thing on Richelieu’s mind. He would have to think
of something to make sure he was seen quickly and not thrown into a
cell while he waited on his master’s pleasure. Either way the last
thing he wanted was to run into a patrol that would delay him
further because some local vampire lord wanted to see if he could
gain ‘brownie points’ with the council in capturing him.

Steele wasn’t entirely sure if the papers he carried
would still be valid or whether Richelieu had already sent word for
his detainment, if sighted. It had been some time since he had left
on his mission, but not excessively so. He didn’t want to take the
chance, either way. The lives of millions lay on his getting the
knowledge of the serum’s effects to Richelieu so he could do
something about it.

It was by no means certain the vampire would bother,
of course. But Steele gave his old boss more credit than to
petulantly disregard the news of the serum’s dangers out of hand.
Of course, in this new world of insular communities, it would take
time for the order to disseminate across the country and to other
countries even if he did take the threat seriously. It was entirely
possible that they were already too late. He had to believe that
there was still time, otherwise everything they were doing was for
nothing.

Either way, it was essential that he get the
information to Richelieu quickly and then it was in hands other
than his. He drove with no lights, which was crazy he knew, but he
couldn’t risk being seen by vampires passing overhead. Thrall
patrols he could handle, he thought as he moved his hand to caress
one of the twin compact Uzi machine pistols secured in a harness
under each arm. The guns were a marvel of engineering, weighing
only 1700 grams. And at only 240 millimeters in length they were
capable of spraying 9mm bullets at an incredible rate of fire. The
bullets he had were all coated with Pat Smith’s magic formula so he
should even be able to handle one or two vampires but he would be
empty far too quickly if there were more than that. It was better
to avoid patrols if he could.

Sandra Harrington shook her head as she split her
attention between the train and the town centre. There was no sign
of anyone coming this way from the camp as yet, though she had seen
a large force enter the camp just a short while ago. It wouldn’t
take them long to expand their search, though.

She could barely see Cortez and Sherman weaving in
and out of the buildings between her position and the enemy camp.
The two men were laying traps and explosives wherever they could in
the hope that it would slow the main force enough to get the train
loaded and away. Both men would then retreat to the truck, which
only held ten people in the back, now that the majority was being
taken by train. She was to travel with Sherman after they had
finished setting their traps, and all her arguing had gotten her
nowhere.

She could tell that Harris thought the train was a
huge risk. He obviously felt it was one worth taking, just not one
he was willing to let her risk with him. She had argued viciously
with him but she was already too exhausted from her previous
injuries. She knew she had lost her argument when she had had to
sit down during their argument to rest. Harris had simply told her
that she wasn’t up to it. She had then gathered her remaining
strength and stormed off when he had turned away from her and began
leading the captives from the camp to the train. She still fumed at
his dismissal of her. She knew that he was trying to protect her,
but that wasn’t his call to make. She had decided to sneak on board
the train anyway—there was just no way was she letting him go off
half-cocked without her again. She’d rather die with him than mourn
his loss. She had lost too many friends and family, one more would
break her.

They still needed the truck, though. Good, working
vehicles were just too hard to come by, and besides, there was too
much fuel in it to waste. Sherman had suggested, and Harris had
quickly agreed, that they would take some people and head home
using a different route so as to maximize their chances of getting
back safely. She had never known Sherman to be so enthusiastic
about anything; usually he grumbled about having to go anywhere and
pointed out constantly that the men in the team were untrained.
Maybe it was the fact that they were rescuing so many that had got
him into the spirit.

It was an incredibly audacious plan—if it worked, she
reminded herself. Taking such a slow and noisy vehicle to escape in
was a huge risk, though Harris was like a child as he filled each
of the cars with the former captives. It was looking like they
would be able to take everyone and the relief for the whole group
not to have to choose those who would be rescued was more than she
could measure.

They began filling the cars from the front and worked
their way back as each filled up. If they had cars left over they
could decide whether to bring them along empty or unhook them to
gain more speed. They might not find such a large mass transport
again so Harris was reluctant to leave any of the wooden cars
behind if they could manage it. She laughed as she saw Rodgers skip
back to the holding cell to get more people to the train. It really
did feel like Christmas, she thought, as the snow continued to fall
lightly. It had begun to stick in some places, and the ground, some
trees and most of the buildings, were already beginning to get a
light dusting of white. Now if only they could get back safely they
would have real cause for celebration.

Falconi cursed as he saw the destruction in the camp.
Someone had methodically destroyed most of the vehicles in the
motor pool and ensured that the resulting explosions carried on to
those behind in a chain reaction. In fact, the only reason there
were still any vehicles left undamaged was that the wind had
changed direction and it had kept the roaring flames away from six
or so trucks and four armored jeeps towards the back of the
pool.

He had sent his men to rescue those vehicles but they
were having trouble getting through the carnage of hot, twisted
metal. The occasional explosion as fuel reached a critical heat and
blew didn’t help their efforts. If the wind changed again he would
lose the vehicles and the men he had sent in to get them.

Who had done this? And why? Their only enemy that he
knew of was Von Kruger’s thralls, but Carter had denied any part in
the destruction. He had no reason to lie; in fact he struck Falconi
as the type of man who would relish the opportunity to take credit
for accomplishing such a daring raid. But if not them—who?

He pushed the thoughts aside. He had to coordinate a
response. He had already sent twenty-five men back towards the town
to check with the guards he had left there. The only reason someone
would have to destroy the vehicles was because they did not want to
be followed. They had no fuel to speak of so the only other thing
of value was their human work force and food supply. It was
critical that he bolster the detachment of guards in the town
immediately. If the damage had already been done and the humans
were taken, then he would need transport to follow them. The main
bulk of his men waited anxiously as the others waded into the
inferno to rescue what was left of their working vehicles. He had
already lost four men to unexpected explosions or sudden wind
changes and their pitiful screams as the fire had seared them had
made replacements difficult to find. God, if he survived this night
it would be a miracle.

Lieutenant Angelo led his detachment towards the
town. Captain Falconi had warned him that there might be unknown
forces in the town, but Angelo couldn’t see anything and was quite
confident he could overcome any obstacle that might be waiting for
him. He was a thrall, after all, and pretty much indestructible, so
he led his men straight down the main approach to the town.

He wasn’t stupid, though. He knew that the explosion
had obviously been caused by somebody, but was also fairly certain
that any army that resorted to such a diversionary tactic was
obviously low on numbers or were using the explosion as a diversion
for an attack on another flank. If it had been a full assault from
one of the other states then they would have attacked by now. As it
was, whoever they were, they had already lost any momentum the
diversion might have given them and the time for any concerted
attack had past. So it must be a small force that wanted to hide
their activities, and his patrol of twenty-five thralls would
easily be able to handle that. He sent four of his men out as
scouts to check the houses around them; it was always wise to be
careful and to be sure that you didn’t leave any enemy forces in
your rear. He also wanted to ensure that the rest of his men did
not approach the town bunched together, but otherwise did not worry
too much.

His men were relaxed but alert as they approached the
town. Buildings and houses began to grow more numerous on either
side as they passed the town limits. All of the buildings were
deserted and had been badly weathered by the relentless summer sun
and cold winters. Paint had peeled away or cracked from houses,
business signs hung from rusted polls, flags lay limp in the still
air, and what grass was still visible through the falling snow was
coarse and overgrown from neglect. Angelo hated the winters and
switched his weapon from hand to hand as his fingers grew cold
against the metal. He had ordered each man to remove their gloves
before they had set off for the town, and had ignored the groans of
dissent as his men had reluctantly complied. They had tried gloves
over the last few months as the weather had turned cold but they
just got in the way when reloading. Sometimes it was difficult to
get your finger back through the guard, so they were only allowed
to use them in camp.