Vampire's Day (Book 1): Epicenter (5 page)

20. Mr. Johnson.

They attacked him together, three seconds after he opened the garage door. Ten minutes ago, he saw old Clay with his son and wife – his neighbor’s left leg was covered in blood. He noticed it before they slammed the steel door. Then there were screams, but he paid no attention and rushed instead to collect things he needed.

These bloody riots, whatever they were, were spreading everywhere now, and it seemed unlikely that the authorities would manage to do something. All their short messages, interrupted periodically by panic on the urban radio stations, ordered residents not leaving houses, waiting for help, and arming themselves with firearms, if available. If it was a riot like in the ninety-second year, he would listen, but in ninety-second year people didn’t tear each other's throats by bare teeth.

Preparing to leave had taken longer than he expected, much longer. Alone, he would have left a long time ago, but just yesterday his daughter had come to him with his first grandchild, and therefore he required more items. Now he could go.

Neighbors were waiting for him just outside the gates. Old Clay, his son, his wife and little grandson. People he knew for more than a decade - they came for his blood and the blood of his family. Clay Jr. rushed at him before the gate fully opened, right onto the barrel of the short revolver.

Preparing for departure Johnson kept his old revolver ready, although he was very much afraid that he couldn’t shoot if necessary. His fear was unnecessary. He shot without hesitation, as soon as saw the way his neighbor looked at him. Clay Jr. was shot in the stomach at a short range, and folded like a sheet of paper. Mrs. Clay, walking after her son, received the following two bullets.

Suddenly his left leg was broken at the knee – old Clay had cheated his rifle bolt. Leaning against the car door, Johnson shot him over and over, all three remaining bullets. And then he slowly sat down on the concrete floor, surrendering to the unbearable pain.

“Dad!”

“Don’t go out!”

He saw him, saw Clay’s grandson as he approached, saw the red eyes and torn throat. Johnson’s trembling fingers fumbled with the cartridge as the boy rushed at him and sank teeth into his shoulder. The painful shock almost stopped his heart. Johnson hit the boy, but the enemy wasn’t going to stop. It was no use hitting him, it was like punching a brick wall. Bullet, bullet, he still had a bullet. Shot. Grandson Clay’s head was blown up. He waved his arms in a ridiculous way, took two steps and fell on dead father.

It seemed that he lost consciousness for a few seconds. But now he feels better, and Johnson reloaded his gun. It was necessary. There were still shootings on the street and garage doors were still open.

Something had changed. The pain was almost gone from the wounds on leg and shoulder. Instead the pain became something else. He urgently needed something he never had before. What was this, what?!

“Dad!”

He saw his daughter enter the garage, and immediately realized what he needed. Here it is, here, right in front of him!

“You're hurt, you've got to go to the hospital!”

He was wounded. The same as when his neighbor Clay was wounded, and taken to a house behind a steel door, from which nobody emerged who was human.

“Come on, I'll lift you up!”

With incredible difficulty Johnson overcame his Hunger, and threw her away.

“No time to explain. Get in the car and drive away as far as possible from the city. Grab a gun and kill anyone who tries to attack you.”

“What are you doing?”

“Take care, daughter.”

A second before the Hunger broke his will; Johnson put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

21. Fried Chicken

Fried Chicken hovered half a kilometer over the highway, that dark ribbon stretching from horizon to horizon. The highway was at a standstill. No one on board Chicken had ever seen such a traffic jam before, even though flying over highways was their work.

“Mike, make another circle over the roadblock, counterclockwise! Slow down, I want to get some good shots.”

“I will not approach too close, they have fifty calibers. Who knows what they will do, if we start buzzing over their heads?”

“Are you saying that an old soldier like you is afraid of those guns?”

“Of course I'm afraid. You were not with us that day, when over Fallujah Iraqis hit us with DSHK, and you didn’t have to wash away the blood of the second pilot.”

“I've heard that story many times, don’t start again. Just go around them in a circle. I don’t want to lose the exclusive footage, since competitors have overtaken us. One mile is good, but can you go down to three hundred meters?”

The helicopter made a wide circle, cameras aimed at the checkpoint.

“Well, I'm ready…”

“Three, two, one… on air!”

“You see, ladies and gentlemen, you see this? This checkpoint blocking the highway was installed by the military in just a few minutes. They are working fast; we can see how the soldiers have stretched barbed wire and put concrete blocks across the road. Until now, no one has explained the cause, but it’s already impossible to leave the city by this highway. Take a look at all these cars; see how many buses and ambulances there are! There is still no new information, we’re being told not to leave… and… why have we got no signal?”

Chicken began the second circle, and the anchor girl tried to figure out why the picture on the screen had gone.

“Everything is working, there is just no signal. The studio has stopped broadcasting.”

“Call them immediately.”

“What do you think I am trying to do? There is no answer. And it seems it's not just us. All urban channels have been disconnected. Try over the network instead!”

She stared at the tablet screen - "No Signal." The same inscription was waiting on whatever she tried - browsers just could not find the network.

“CB radio is dead.”

The anchor girl and the operator looked at each other.

“Fine. What does this mean?”

“Containment protocol,” the pilot said. “Containment protocol, as it's called. Complete cessation of civilian communication systems in the case of unprecedented scale emergency situations, one of which we seem to have now. I heard about this in the army.”

“It’s war? Mike, what's happening?!”

Fried Chicken faltered and leaned to starboard so sharply that the anchor girl hit her face by the board hatch. The helicopter tilted nose down for a split second.

“What are you doing, you son of a bitch?”

Mike managed to regain control of the helicopter and avoided falling onto the hot sand. He was actually a great pilot, despite the fact that the TV people who worked with him had doubts about this.

“What was that?”

“There he is. That bastard could crash into us!”

“Plane?”

“Gulfstream, the old model. We almost collided; he is travelling at full speed in low altitude.”

“He is flying to the city. Hey, look! Is that what I think it is?”

Small black parachutes were revealed one by one behind the plane.

“Yes, he is dropping off the paratroopers. There are riots in the city, roads are blocked, there are no connections, and now the landing operation is beginning.”

“Using civil aircraft? I saw this in a movie, Russian stile. I hope you got pictures of it?”

“Of course! But where do we send them?”

22. Gus 2

They crossed the border without any problems. No one noticed Gus. Or perhaps they noticed, but couldn’t do anything, Angel was not surprised. No one knew what to do now; all attention was drawn to LA. Government services were desperately trying to respond to this situation, not knowing exactly what was happening. In such circumstances, they couldn’t maintain the border security, and that's why Gus didn’t meet any resistance. They were lucky. But luck would not hold out forever, Angel knows this. Gringo will hold the management collapse, and they realize that the danger comes from Mexico and will do anything to block the border. But in the chaos such measures would take time, which meant that he currently had a clear sky overhead.

“One minute!”

Gus skirted a flat-topped hill and flew over the plain, their destination clearly visible ahead - a large dump, an ugly spot in the desert at the end of a country road. Angel flew Gus above the surface, almost touching the bushes with the chassis.

“Hold on!”

The landing came hard. Gus was shaking like a mechanical bull at a rodeo, but he survived, and his pilot, too. We have landed, you can unfasten your seatbelts and smoke, the airline says goodbye to you and wishes all the best.

“Go!”

Angel opened the wide rear door and the first passengers leave Gus, immediately pulling heavy long green boxes.

“Careful with those missiles, it’s not firewood!”

His part of the job is finished. A large consignment of IGLA MANPADS has been delivered to the desired point. The further transportation and use of missiles is the work of his passengers - six thugs, only one of which, the leader, Angel had met before. The last box left the cargo bay, while a couple of fighters turn a yellow car skeleton lying on the roadside and quickly begin to dig up big boxes. Inside those boxes are tucked motorcycles, the most suitable transport in this case. Cars would be next, taken as a trophy.

“Done!”

“OK! Now help me turn the plane!”

He must hurry; his time for the return flight is short.

23. Officers and civilians

“What's he saying? What is that little bastard saying? Answer me, and don’t even try to lie!”

The patroller aimed his gun on the crying swarthy guy, but there was no need for such a threatening gesture – the guy was not going to remain silent.

“His gang went to rob the rich houses and shops as soon as the city began to shut down. The telephone still worked and they immediately phoned all accomplices. They thought that it was like the riots in ninety-two. He and his brothers went into three buildings. In the first they shot the guard; in the second they raped a woman and took loads of booty. Then…”

A firefighter struck the bandit, and then repeatedly asked him about what happened after that.

“So what? What happened then?”

“Then his older brother was injured, and he bled. Small wound, like a shot from an airgun. They didn’t see who shot him. They stole a van somewhere and filled it with booty. The brother became ill and he lost consciousness…”

A few strong blows encouraged guy to keep talking.

“Then the older brother attacked them; he just grabbed another brother, Julian, in the throat with his teeth. They fought for the wheel and the car crashed into a wall. Two of the younger brothers fought with the older and eventually killed him with a knife, but then they were attacked by Julian. He was covered in blood, with a torn throat, but he was moving… moving and killing. This one managed to escape and ran until we caught him. End of story.”

“Officer, maybe he’s lying? Maybe it's time to hit him again?”

“He is not lying,” said the cop grimly and spat on the pavement. “That’s the worst thing about this situation, he isn’t lying.”

“I saw the same thing with my own eyes,” broke in a woman wearing a hopelessly spoiled suit. “I was in the hospital this morning, working with a client, when it all began. They brought there a girl, about eight years old, with a torn throat. I was very scared, and thought she was dead… but it was not so. She attacked a nurse and a doctor as soon as she was removed from the stretcher, biting them. I don’t remember how I got out of there.”

“I watched the video on the web, showing the same thing - attacking with teeth, drinking blood. At first I didn’t believe…”

“I heard on the radio…”

“Where is the military…”

“Yeah, just like in the movies…”

“And what to do…”

“Shut it!”

Everyone shut up; no one wanted to argue with the patrolman. The uniform, torn in many places, his glare and a gun in hand meant that no one wanted to challenge his leadership. Restoring peace the officer again looked at the group. There were fifteen people, almost all civilians, except for the gangster and a firefighter. Each of the fifteen looked like they’d walked straight into hell, and he was no exception.

An hour ago, he’d killed a police officer, who stopped his bike in the street and shot people with a machine gun. He’d shot the old man who rushed at him with blood on his throat, then shot somebody else, and then met a firefighter with a bloody ax. They’d picked up a few more people and now they were a small group hiding in the backyard of a looted house. Over the past few hours they’d got used to the sounds of shouting, shooting and sirens.

“So, we know that the city is suffering a strange disease that causes people to attack anyone they see. I think it's some kind of rabies. The wounded also become infected, so…”

“Yeah, just like in the movies…”

“I told you - shut up! The infected are everywhere and the disease is spreading rapidly - fact. They can be killed - also a fact that I have personally discovered.”

“Officer, we have clarified the facts, thank you. And now what should we do? When will help come?”

The patrolman smiled grimly.

“Help will not come, at least for the next few hours. The last message I heard before the radio died was an order for police to leave their positions in the south and center and retreat to the northern suburbs. I don’t know about the military, I haven’t seen anybody to ask.”

“Bastards, you’re leaving us!”

“I didn’t leave, I'm here with you, and with a gun in my hands! I I'll do my job, no matter what happens. Help will not come – we have to act alone!”

“Where do we go?”

“We'll go to the coast, try to find a yacht or a boat and get out of the city on the water.”

“Officer, we can’t walk to the port, no chance. We have already tried! We left our office as a team of thirty-seven men with three armed guards, and only six reached here! We were attacked by rabid crowds, and moreover, someone shot at us! Shot! I'm not leaving!”

“Then stay here! And the rest will go with me to the coast. If we can’t walk we will find a car! Something powerful and heavy.”

“That truck seems fine. What are you talking about?”

The firefighter was exchanging a few words with the detained robber.

“He says that he can start the truck without a key, if we remove his handcuffs. Says he wants to go with us.”

“Tell that bastard, that if he will start the truck, he’ll be set free. How many guns do we have?”

The weapons were not enough – there was a Glock for the patrolman, a small revolver, taken from the young bandit and given to the firefighter, and a Russian automatic shotgun, belonging to one of the civilians.

“How much ammo for Saiga?”

“Eight. No, it's seven; I spent one on the corner.”

“It's not enough; we need more guns and ammo. Who knows the area – is there a gun shop nearby?”

“There is – a couple of blocks to the west.”

In that direction, the noise of shooting was particularly loud. They heard pistols, shotguns and machine-gun fire, which overlapped periodically with the rumble of a heavy machine gun.

“Looks like they are selling toda
y.
Now I and this little bastard will drive the truck. Sit quietly; try not to make any noise. If someone who is injured, especially in the neck, tries to approach - kill them without delay. As a representative of the authorities I will authorize it as an act of self-defense. Come on, let’s steal a car!”