King's Blood: Vampire Descent (A Serial Novel, Part 4) (6 page)

Yi crouched to the floor and began fanning the powder toward my direction with his hands. “Quit staring and help me get this powder near Jack,” Yi telled at Rald, and Alan. Alan, always one to follow orders,  frantically fell to his knees, and mimicked a ridiculous scooping motion with his hands.

“
Havens,” yelled Yi. “Open Jack’s mouth, make sure he breathes this stuff in.”

I began pushing my arms out. I heard the leather straps crackling as they yielded to the pressure applied by my pulsating musculature. My face began to flush red like cochineal carmine. I felt the veins in my neck almost bursting out of my skin. Havens pushed the spectating Rald out of the way and lunged at my neck. I managed to free one of my arms, as I stretched the leather straps with my unnatural strength. I slapped away Havens’s massive hand, as he attempted to grapple my throat. He temporarily stood still, stunned that I could defend myself and was apparently at full strength and not affected by Alan’s powder. As Havens staggered, I freed my other arm and used both hands to stretch the leather around my thighs. I slipped out my legs and sprang off the table.

Havens looked down at Yi and Alan, and seemed hesitant on what to do next. I heard a cacophonous rumbling of boots enter the chamber.

“
They have breached the large window above the examination room, the protestors have grown in numbers, they’re infiltrating the complex,” said one of the guards in a panic.

Yi’s face immediately sagged with worry and fear. He looked up at Havens and said, “Don’t let him get away.”

I stood my ground, my feet firm and planted onto the cold, concrete floor. I looked into Havens’s soulless, deep, darkened eyes, letting him know that he would have his hands full with an angry, vengeful vampire who was at full strength and thirsty for blood.

Havens stretched his neck and proceeded to hold out his hairless, brawny arm. A guard came running from behind the light and tossed him a black graphite crossbow and a cloth pouch of what looked like silver-tipped arrows. Havens quickly placed one of the arrows on the bow’s center groove and cocked the crossbow’s tightly wound, metallic bow string. He lifted the sights of his crossbow directly in front of his right eye; it was a wink of ill will, which was aimed in a straight line toward the center of my chest.

“Aim for his leg...incapacitate him!” yelled Yi.

Havens maintained his sights toward the middle of my torso. I stood still, waiting to leap to one side as soon as I detected a hint of movement from his index finger as it calmly rested on the bow’s menacing trigger. Yi, who was still on his knees, gave me a quick glance and hurriedly turned to Havens. “Keep him alive,” Yi pleaded.

“I’ll go get more Machineel dust,” said Alan, as he got up from the floor and sprinted toward the large doors of the chamber. .

Yi stood up and yelled at Havens, “Aim for his legs...do you hear me?”

Rald slowly approached Havens from behind and tried to put his hand on his shoulder. Havens gave Rald a dismissive sniff of his nose, and pushed him away with his left arm, sending Rald tumbling to the floor. “This is no time for revenge,” begged Rald.

“
You know, if you miss, I will kill you instantly,” I said.

Havens’s developed forearm muscles began to twitch, and his trigger finger trembled; my knee slightly leaned to the left anticipating the arrow’s launch. Yi, who was still on the ground, scooted toward Havens’s left leg and pulled it right from under him. The silvery-tipped arrow shot straight into the air, Havens’s knee hit the floor, and attempted to regain his stance with his left arm. The crossbow made a deep thud as it landed on the floor behind Rald.

As the group in front of me struggled to gain their composure, I sprinted toward Havens at full speed. I leapt into the air, spreading both my arms in a striking motion, and my fangs fully exposed, as I readied to clamp down on Havens’s hulking neck and shoulders. Rald, in one swift motion, grabbed an arrow from the floor, stepped in front of Havens and stabbed me with precision. The silvery-looking tip entered my thigh, piercing through skin and muscle, finally feeling its cold metallic point resting up against my femur. I immediately landed on my back, clutching my right leg in agony, as I felt the poisonous metal begin to course through and around the gash.

Havens proceeded to grab me by my throat as I laid on the floor in terrible pain. As soon as I was levitated by Havens, I sank my teeth into his forearm, but he just held firm, dangling me in the air, without expressing pain or discomfort. Suddenly, a loud bang entered the chamber and smoke began to slowly fill the air.

   A grunt and a growl burst from behind me. Like a wolf sprinting toward its prey, a naked and bloodied figure, jumped straight into Havens’s chest, knocking him to floor. Jon had gone completely feral, and his claws were rapidly shredding the skin off Havens’s chest. Havens frantically moved his arms in every direction, trying to push Jon and his wild, devastating attacks away.

Rald and Yi began to cough uncontrollably as the room was enveloped in white smoke. I immediately hit the ground, feeling the cold concrete up against my chest. The guards also began coughing, most of them cowering to the floor and covering their mouths, desperately searching for pockets of oxygen. My eyes began watering with extreme irritation, fogging up my vision. I held my hand over my mouth but it was too late as I felt the effects of what I thought was tear gas enter my nostrils and mouth, slowly burning my throat and then my lungs. I curled up into the fetal position, and covered my face with my arms and legs. Horrific coughs echoed throughout the chamber as Jon’s incessant gnarls grew louder. Havens was being torn to pieces.
                                                                     

I heard a group of boots march into the room followed by voices barking muffled orders at each other. I looked up through the smoke. An outstretched gloved hand, as if it came down from the heavens, was held out in front of me, offering me a lift through the dense, poisonous fog.

“
Let’s go,” said the voice.

“
Who are you?” I asked, coughing uncontrollably.

“
There is no time to talk.”

“
You must get Larry,” I said, as my eyes welled up continuously, with no end in sight. The bottom of my eyelids were burning profusely.

“
Who’s Larry?”

“
Please, you need to get him; he’s in containment somewhere,” I said. “He’s a white guy.”

“
Xiao...Xiao get over here,” yelled the man at one of his masked cohorts. “You need to get a white guy from one of the cells.” The masked man asked me, “What’s his name again?”

“
Larry,” I yelled.

“
He goes by Larry.” His friend nodded at the request and fled briskly into the smoke.

As I stood up, the man put a mask over my face. He also put his arm under my shoulder and helped me limp out of the chamber. I opened my eyes and saw the gas-masked man clearly through the pellucid resin visor. I made out dozens of them moving frantically throughout the chamber, waving their arms in the direction of the exit.

“Wait!” I said, loudly.

I hit the ground and began crawling toward Rald and Li, who were convulsing and holding their throats on the floor. My journal was right next to Rald. I dove at it and made brief eye contact with Li’s red, squinted eyes. Drool hung from his mouth. “Don’t you dare,” he said, in between violent coughs, which seemed to have immobilized him.

I quickly snatched it with my hand, clutching it tightly against my chest. The gas-masked stranger grabbed me by my arm and pulled me up from the floor. “Come on, let’s go before more of them show up,” he said, with a panicked urgency.

As the group of masked individuals led us through the corridor, I saw that bodies were strewn everywhere, some crawling, others completely unconscious. We all entered the room where the glass cubes were, but now there was a large hole in the ceiling. Rubble from the surrounding walls and ceiling created a ledge that led through the large gaping planchement. Whatever created the large gap, it was done by some type of professional demolition explosive. I continued to hear random sets of explosions going on outside as we approached the exit. I could see more of the gaseous fog that permeated throughout the facility, extend toward the outside air. As the group of masked individuals helped me get out of the chamber through the opened ceiling, I noticed the large demonstration of protestors overcoming the security forces right outside the market just ahead. They hurled rocks, bottles, and any solid object they could find on the floor toward the security forces, who were decked out with riot shields and nightsticks.

Together, five of us emerged from the hole, including my rescuer. He was shorter than me in stature and rather thin, but quite strong as he managed to pull me from the underground facility in timely fashion. He wore a tight, black leather jacket, with matching leather pants that motorcyclists usually wear to avoid getting road rash.

“
Nice night, eh?” he said, as he looked up at the stars through the patchy white gloom left behind by the diffusing tear gas. “Come on, put a little more pressure on your leg if you can, we need to move faster away from the protest,” he said, his face still hidden by the gas mask.

As we moved faster toward an alleyway next to an old rundown fruit exchange, I heard a dull thumping sound. The man who had been helping me fell to the floor as if he was hit from behind. “Keep going,” he yelled, as he laid on the ground on all fours.

I looked back. Jon’s decapitated head was rolling down the mound of old demolished concrete that we had just climbed over. Havens stood twenty yards away, his face bloodied, gashed, and scratched. His clothes were tattered in pieces. He aimed the crossbow that lay at his side straight at me as I stood at an elevated position, an easy and clear target if there ever was one.

“
Go ahead, Havens, shoot, you sick fuck,” I yelled, challenging him.

The masked man stood up and yelled something in Cantonese at the others who were slightly ahead of us near the alleyway. One of the other masked figures, also wearing leather motorbike wear, leaped from the elevated concrete platform onto Havens below. The distance of his leap was by no means possible from a human. Havens quickly changed the direction of his crossbow and shot the leaping man in midair, the arrow puncturing the center of the man’s chest. The man hit the floor, rolled a few times, and finally rested motionless in front of Havens. The masked man next to me yelled, “Go...go...go!”

I turned around and bit my lip, trying my hardest to deflect the pain that was gnawing the wound in my thigh. The pain was resonating so deep, it began affecting a nerve that somehow started to stiffen my ankle. I began skipping furiously on one leg toward the dark alleyway. I looked back again and four to five masked men jumped down where Havens was standing below, attempting to overcome him while I escaped. Havens grabbed one of the men, grappling him by his neck and thighs, the tips of his fingers kneading deep into the man’s leather outfit, plowing his back right onto his knee with a monstrous force. The man twitched as he hit the floor and could only lift his upper chest, his legs paralyzed, as he attempted to crawl away from Havens, using only his hands. Havens grabbed another man and flung him toward the concrete mound. Another jumped on Havens’s back, and began bashing him on top of his head with both of his enclosed fists. I turned my head and mustered every last bit of energy in my legs and walked as fast as I could.

I entered the alleyway. I used the grimy walls to support myself. “Make a quick right,” said the masked man, taking quick, continual glances at our rear.

About ten yards into the main alley, it deviated into two different directions. The man swiftly came underneath me and scooped my left shoulder with his shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “It’s right through this door.” The man began banging on the door with his closed fist. “I have him! Open up...hurry.”

A young Chinese male with spiky hair, wearing a pair of denim motorcycle pants and a bright red leather jacket, answered the door. The door led to a large empty garage. There were four motorcycles waiting for us; three Ducati Monster 696’s and a slick, black and silver Star Stryker, which had a female driver, and sitting bitch, a heavyset man in jeans wearing a familiar-looking corduroy jacket. He lifted his visor, revealing his unmistakably familiar pair of jolly eyes. His chubby cheeks spilled out of the bottom part of the black motorcycle helmet. “I knew you were alive, you stud,” howled Ted. “Listen, get on that bike cause' we need to get the hell out of here, man. Shit is getting crazy.”

The man who helped me escape from the facility took off his gas mask. Small droplets of his sweat splattered all over my face. I used my right hand to quickly wipe his perspiration from my forehead.

“
Sorry,” he said, revealing a fresh-faced Chinese youth, with short black hair and a playful smirk. He gave me his small hand for a quick handshake and said, “Hello Jack, I’m Milton.” My eyes opened wide and I began to shake my head in disbelief. I readied for a self-inflicted blow to my own head but Milton caught my wrist with his hand. “This is no dream, buddy,” he said, getting on one of the Ducatis. “Let’s go, there is someone waiting for you.”

I climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, wincing in pain as I had to lift my wounded and bloodied thigh with both hands. I held onto Milton’s waist as the sudden and abrupt acceleration of the motorbike whipped my head back violently.