Vampire Apocalypse: Descent Into Chaos (Book 2) (9 page)

She shook herself from her thoughts and glanced
around the room. Lucy Irvine sat in her usual place and let the
conversation and general noise of people flow around her, as she
remained focused on the papers in front of her. Sandra looked at
the woman and was startled to notice that she had aged quite a lot
in the last few months. It had always been difficult to put an age
on Lucy for as long as she had known the woman, but now, as Sandra
really looked at her, she could see the deep worry lines that
creased her face, her hair was not quite as neat as usual and it
had lost its platinum sheen so that her hair was now pure white. It
was her eyes, though, that showed the most startling change. They
had always sparkled with an inner fire, no matter how bad things
had gotten. Now Sandra could see a deep sadness there that shocked
her.

Pat Smith sat beside her and quietly fidgeted. She
had seen him lean towards Lucy earlier, attempting conversation,
and had received a sharp rebuke. Sandra looked over at him and
caught his eye. She could see the struggle in the man’s face; he
obviously wanted to move and sit beside someone more friendly but
felt it too rude just to get up. Sandra was not really in the mood
for conversation so she merely shrugged noncommittally and
continued scanning the room.

Father Jonathon Reilly sat like a coiled spring in
his chair. His massive frame looked awkward on the small chair but
he sat with an easy grace despite this. He was chalk-white and
looked quite unwell—in fact, he had not yet recovered from his
wounds but refused to allow himself the time to heal. He had been
badly wounded during the battle with Nero and they had thought him
lost. It had been almost two days after they had pulled themselves
from the ruined headquarters that they had found him. He had been
barely alive, impaled on a stake with a vampire clutched to him in
an embrace that had torn his own organs to shreds but had proved
fatal for the vampire. But, ironically, it had been the stake that
had saved his life as it had plugged the hole and stopped the
bleeding.

He had not, however, come out of it unscathed. He had
terrible internal injuries, had lost a kidney and his stomach would
probably never heal fully, at least not until they found a surgeon
capable of sorting out the mess inside him. Till then all they
could do was stitch him up and order him to rest. His face was
drawn and heavily lined and his hair had begun to thin alarmingly.
His clothes no longer fit him well with the weight he had lost
since his ordeal, but he refused to wear civilian clothes,
preferring ‘the black suit of his office to pampering to vanity,’
as he put it. Despite his injuries, though, he had insisted that he
was needed and had spent the last two months consoling not just
those who were newly awakened, but also those who had survived the
last attack but had lost loved ones.

How do you give hope to those who have lost
everything they hold dear? How do you explain God’s will to people
who had been used as cattle for the last two years and who now
found themselves in a world with far more danger and even less hope
than before the serum took away their will? Sandra did not envy
him.

Beside him sat John Kelly. He was the current
chairman of the committee, which worked on a round robin format,
giving each person two weeks in the position before passing it on
to another member. Kelly had been on the original committee but was
still as unlikable as he had always been. He was a wiry man with a
thin face that was actually quite handsome, in a sharp kind of way.
His voice was high and reedy and he tended to speak through his
nose when he got excited, but, at 35, he was still a very eligible
catch in the community. His eyes, though, were cold, and Sandra
found it hard to like him. Kelly, though part of the original
committee, could not be relied upon for support, and he seemed to
delight in voting against anything that Harris might put forward.
It had been his casting vote that had stymied Harris’s latest
request for approval for the current raid.

Phil Regan took his seat and caught Sandra’s eye and
smiled. Sandra snarled in response and looked away quickly,
instantly regretting her action as it gave him another small
victory. His cronies Ian Phelps and Patricia Lohan sat on either
side of him, smiling at Sandra as they took their seats. Ian Phelps
had been a builder by trade and he knew every trick in the book
when dealing with people, whether they were honest or dishonest. He
was very good at finding what it was that people wanted and making
sure that they understood what they would have to do to get it. His
addiction to alcohol was plainly visible in the burst capillaries
in his face and in the large gut that drooped far over his belt,
but his eyes showed a keen intelligence that you would be very
unwise to underestimate.

Lohan, in comparison, was beautiful. Her figure was
well proportioned and the clothes she wore accentuated her body to
great effect. Her cheekbones were high and prominent but a small
nose softened the lines and gave her an innocent, impish look,
though the woman was anything but innocent. Her hair was auburn and
reminded Sandra of the sky on a stormy morning in autumn, and her
eyes were a deep brown that held you when you spoke to her. Sandra
was honest enough to wonder whether her feelings towards the woman
were tinged a bit by jealousy but she was fairly certain that her
impression was based more on intuition than envy. As far as Sandra
was concerned, Lohan was the most dangerous woman that she had ever
met and she feared her far more than Phil Regan.

Regan wanted to rule, he felt it was his right and
his destiny to lead others. He needed to dominate but he was also
quite naïve. He was an evil bastard who would step on anyone to get
what he wanted, but he lacked the intelligence to set in place the
schemes needed to get him to the top. Left to his own devices, he
would not get very far, but Lohan and Phelps were a different
story. They were the ones who were prepared to do anything to make
sure Regan made it to the top. They would use the man’s natural
charisma, something they themselves lacked, to get to the top, and
then who knew what would happen? Sandra shuddered as she saw an
image of Regan grinning broadly as a smiling Lohan slit his
throat.

The final member of the committee was Denis Jackson.
He was new to the group but was well capable of ensuring that his
short time on the committee did not mean that he was in any way
ineffective. He wore his clothes well, preferring bright colors
that clashed against his dark skin, but seemed to suit his
ebullient personality regardless. He was quick to smile but he was
clever and he often caught nuances around the table that Sandra had
missed entirely. Although he was a new member he was not allied to
the other new members or with Harris’s older committee members,
preferring to sit on the fence and watch the proceedings before
committing himself to a course of action. He had proven himself
honorable in his decisions to date and Sandra could not see him
siding with Regan.

“We have a lot to get through,” Kelly banged the flat
of his hand on the table and the room grew quieter. “Thank you,”
Kelly continued and then looked around him with as stern a look as
he could manage. “It seems we have a problem,” he paused as he
glanced towards Regan, but then seemed to lose his nerve and moved
quickly away and scanned the other faces around the table.
Unfortunately, Regan and his colleagues sat directly opposite him
so he was forced to turn back to them as he swept the table.

Lohan and Phelps grinned broadly at him as they
caught his eye and Kelly dropped his eyes to the few papers in
front of him as his skin blushed. What’s going on? Sandra felt her
stomach drop as she watched Kelly’s reaction.

“It seems that some information had been
inadvertently released…”

“Inadvertently, my ass!” Sandra was well known for
her short fuse but, she hoped, was also known for her integrity.
She was damned if she would let Regan appear as the only honest
member of this committee. She leaned forward as she interrupted
Kelly. “He knew exactly what he was doing …”

“Sandra,” Kelly placed his hands on the table in a
calming gesture, “I’m sure there was no…”

“You weren’t there, he enjoyed playing to the crowd,”
Sandra continued, raising her voice to drown out Kelly’s attempted
interruption. “He used the information to set himself up as an
honest broker for the elections …”

“That’s ridiculous,” Regan finally decided to enter
the discussion. “It was not my intention to cause a rift,
merely…”

“Bullshit!” Sandra leaned halfway across the table as
her anger took over. On one level she was aware that she was not
doing the committee any favors losing her temper like this, but she
had gone too far already and was powerless to stop herself. She was
about to continue when Father Reilly interrupted. His voice was not
raised or angry in any way, but his tone was filled with a threat
that defied the calm manner in which he spoke.

“Perhaps you could tell us all what your intentions
were, then, Mister Regan.”

“I merely wanted to answer Miss Harrington’s
question. In the interest of the greater public good, I was trying
to explain why these raids were not in our best interest.
Unfortunately, in so doing I, inadvertently, let it slip that
Mister Smith was not a doctor. It was an accid…”

“It’s not really something that one lets slip, is it
Mister Regan?” Denis Jackson interrupted and Sandra was pleased to
see that she seemed to have the lion’s share of support around the
table. “I mean… it’s not really something that one would normally
bring up in conversation. You are just as aware as the rest of us
of how important this issue about the serum is. Mister Smith may
not be a doctor,” he nodded to the contingent of men and women who
made up the public gallery, holding each of them with his gaze
before finally continuing on to the next, “but we are certain that
his findings are accurate and that our fellow human beings all over
the world will start dying in the coming months if we do not come
up with a solution.”

He paused again and swept the visitors with his eyes,
trying to impress upon them the importance of his words. “Women and
children will die first, their brains will start to bleed
internally and they will die without knowing why. In a few months
the food supply will get so low for the vampires that they will
scour the country for humans. It will not be long before they smell
us out, and then they will start again, using cruelty and fear to
keep us in line rather than chemicals. Or maybe they’ll just tear
us all apart in a food frenzy. Is that what you want?”

He looked earnestly at the members of the gallery and
Sandra could see doubt in their eyes for the first time. The horror
of what Jackson was describing hit them all hard. “We did not hide
this from you for any personal gain,” Jackson continued in a softer
tone. “We just did not want to be bogged down in pointless
arguments while others died. Though, in our arrogance, we have
caused more damage in not trusting you with the truth than we
realized, and for that I am truly sorry.” For the first time he
dropped his gaze and the gallery seemed to sigh with relief. A low
murmur swept through the small group and Sandra could see that
Jackson was swaying them. “But petty power struggles are not the
answer. It has left us all in a delicate situation. And you, Mister
Regan, it would seem, in quite a positive light. Wouldn’t you
agree?”

“That was not my inte…” Regan began but he was
interrupted again.

“No, I’m sure it wasn’t,” Jackson continued, “but you
must appreciate our position and how this whole situation
appears.”

“Of course I do.” Regan was a shrewd judge of people
and he could see the effect that Jackson’s impassioned plea had had
on the gallery. He smiled as he looked earnestly at the public
gallery, and Sandra could not help admitting that he was really
good at this. If it had not been for the two grinning hyenas
sitting on either side of him she might actually have believed him.
“And let me state that I will immediately tender my resignation
from the committee. Under the circumstances, I am sure …”

“Oh no,” Father Reilly interrupted with a smile that
did not reach anywhere near his eyes. “I’m afraid it is you who do
not understand us, Mister Regan. We wouldn’t hear of you resigning.
You are far too valuable a member of the team.” Sandra could see
the members of the gallery sit up, their faces etched with
confusion.

“But I thought…” Regan began but was interrupted yet
again by the low rumble of the priest’s deep voice.

“Yes, I’m sure you did. But I’m certain you would
prefer to help repair the situation you inadvertently…” he paused
as he said the last word before continuing “…caused rather than
throw fuel on the fire as it were.”

“Of course,” Regan spread his hands but the smile on
his face was more pained and he no longer looked as pleased as he
had. Sandra saw him glance at Lohan but the woman didn’t have an
answer for him so he shrugged and returned his attention to the
priest. Sandra was certain that it had been Regan’s plan all along
to be thrown from the committee for his revelation of their dark
secret, and the resulting backlash would see him voted into power
in the coming election. But, they could hardly ignore the situation
either and leave it unanswered. She shook herself from her thoughts
as Regan continued.

“Anything I can do to help,” he smiled and Sandra saw
Lohan suddenly grip Regan’s arm in warning, her face dropping as
she suddenly realized that he was being manipulated. But it was too
late and Father Reilly leaned forward and grinned, though he seemed
far more like a predator than a pastor as he eyed Regan.

“That’s wonderful,” Reilly smiled. “Then you won’t
mind delivering the committee’s response to the rest of the
community, explaining what your intentions were and how you had
misunderstood the situation. In the interest of the greater public
good, of course,” he added with a flourish and winked at the
members of the gallery.