Something of the Night (14 page)

Chapter
Twenty-Five

Ezekiel raised his arms and the mob before him fell
into silence. The dais he was standing on had become the centre of attention.
He looked from one eager expression to the next. They all looked expectant. At
the lip of the platform sat the young boy. His eyes looked puffy and their
corners were clogged with the residue of sleep. He had been awakened prematurely.
This meeting had been called without delay.

Standing at the front of the
assembly were some of Ezekiel’s trusted lieutenants. The huge figure of
Thalamus split the front row apart, his massive shoulders the width of two
vampires. His dark hair hung in long, interwoven dreadlocks from which
protruded bones, turning it into a mane of white scales. Like the man standing
before him, Thalamus had risen from the brutal ghettos of the inner city; and
together, he and Ezekiel had ascended from degradation to become leaders of
this new world.

Flanking the towering
Thalamus were Brothers Trask and Franklin. Barely reaching as high as
Thalamus’s chest, Trask had a disposition that would have looked more at home
in a suit and tie, rather than the plated armour that decorated his ample bulk.
Once, in a life almost forgotten, he’d served an administration corrupt with
greed, operating in the field of intelligence. Now, he was servant to the man
before him and the thirst that ran through his veins. His round face looked almost
childlike with its ruddy cheeks and red pout. Only when he smiled to expose
sharp fangs did his true identity disclose itself.

Brother Franklin was the
complete opposite: thin to the point of emaciation, with sharply angular
features and a pair of grey, lifeless eyes. These terrible orbs only twinkled
with the hint of life when he indulged in some act of brutality. For,
Franklin
was
servant not only to Ezekiel and the bloodlust, but also to pain and suffering, the
pain and suffering of others. Before night fell on this world, he worked in a
slaughterhouse packing meat, but the darkness had revealed his true nature, and
now he had become a butcher of innocents.

Lieutenants Isaac and
Jeremiah stood off to the right, chatting anxiously; and Bara and three of her
higher-ranking officers filled in on the left. The rest of the group consisted
of soldiers of rank or figures of prominence.

“Brothers,” Ezekiel called,
silencing the murmur.

At once the gathering fell
quiet.

“Brothers, our time of battle
is near. The humans’ hideout has been located, and we move to intercept soon!”

A difference of opinion split
the group. Some expressed an eagerness to begin, others counselled caution.

“What are we waiting for?” an
agitated voice asked.

Ezekiel didn’t need to search
out the speaker’s face. “Bara, your insatiable appetite may be the cause of our
demise.”

The jailer’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?”

“That your vile tongue has
already led to the near-extinction of man. Had we offered more restraint, then
our situation might have been more prosperous.”

Isaac’s lust for command got
the better of him. “How much prosperity do you need?”

Ezekiel’s eyes bored into the
lieutenant. “Brother Isaac, do not confuse prosperity with profligacy. Do you
want a guise like hers?” His finger sought out the female jailer. “Look what
prosperity has done to her. She’s become a fat, bloated ogre, who knows nothing
of moderation or self-discipline.”

A crackle of nervous laughter
sounded. Most of the group knew all too well of the jailer’s incapacity for
self-control; she was in danger of becoming a parody of overindulgence, if
indeed she had not already.

Bara hissed in the group’s
direction, “This fool leads us only to starvation!”

An audible gasp sounded.

“Bara, do you think
you
could lead us to deliverance?” Ezekiel asked.

“Yes!” she said, her bloated
face indignant.

Ezekiel smiled with an
exaggerated look of pity. “How?”

“With these,” Bara said. She
turned to the nearest soldier and withdrew the firearm from his hip. Before
anyone could react, she stepped closer and trained the weapon on Ezekiel.
Instantly, Thalamus stepped between her and the vampire leader. And, even
though the young boy at the foot of the dais had being paying scant attention,
he too jumped to his feet. “Danger! Danger!” his young lips cried.

Ezekiel stepped down from the
platform. He laid his hand on the young boy’s head, patting him gently. “Good
boy,” he said, calming the boy’s unease. “Brother Thalamus, let her speak.” The
huge vampire sidestepped, allowing the ogre to pass. The gun levelled towards
Ezekiel’s head. He didn’t flinch, for he had no fear of the woman before him.
She had always had passion, once towards the very man she now threatened, and
Ezekiel knew her anger was directed at him because of what they had lost
personally, rather than his capacity to lead.

Hell hath no fury like a
woman scorned, Ezekiel thought. How true.

“What’s on your mind, my dear
Bara?” he asked.

The gun wavered. His words
had sounded like sweet music to her ears. She opened her mouth, but her spurt
of venom had received a temporary antidote. Her resolve quickly returned,
however, “I’ve had enough of your games. We will take the humans’ lair with or
without you in command.”

“And how will you take these
humans that are so rightfully yours?”

“With this and hundreds like
it,” she replied, showing the assembly the weapon in her hand. “What are we but
an army?”

“Good! Then I shall step back
and allow you to continue.” Wearily, Ezekiel stepped onto the dais and returned
to the table. He sat heavily, beaten.

Bara became confused for a
second. Then, realising she had won the confrontation, she raised the weapon
high in victory, “Let’s take what is meant to be ours,” she said, jabbing the
pistol upwards.

The mob split into two
factions, one triumphant at the commencement of battle. The other subdued and
shocked by their leader’s defeat.

Thalamus, Franklin and Trask
all took an anxious step towards their master. Yet, as they neared, they saw
that Ezekiel’s look was one not of defeat but of quiet self-assurance.

Ezekiel’s mouth opened and a
soft chuckle escaped. The chuckle continued to build until it had became a
great roar of laughter. The vampire leader jumped to his feet. Fake hilarity
echoed eerily within the tight construction of the chamber. The howls of
amusement continued until all had fixed their attention to the man on the dais.

The laughter stopped
abruptly. Ezekiel snatched the handgun from the table before him and took a
step towards the crowd. He clicked the safety off and then, unexpectedly, he
lowered the weapon to the young boy’s head.

Mercifully, the boy had
turned his attention to the silent crowd before him. The muzzle inched closer.
Ezekiel’s finger rose to his dark lips. “Watch… ” he whispered in their
direction.

Surprise locked the gathering
in silent formation.

Ezekiel looked to Bara, “Would
you have me pull the trigger?” he asked.

The question went unanswered.

“Would you have me pull the
trigger?” he asked again.

Bara’s need for blood began
to consume her. She imagined the rich stench if he were to pull the trigger.
She took an unconscious step closer in hope of catching the blood-spill. Other
vampires moved closer, swooning with the lust for blood.

Ezekiel asked again, “Shall I
pull the trigger?” This time, though, his question was directed at the entire
group.

“Yes… yes… ” some hissed,
faces twisted by the desperate yearning.

Ezekiel pulled the hammer
back. He brought the dark, oily eye within a hair’s width of the boy’s skull.
The group seemed to contract around the vampire and boy. Even Ezekiel’s three
trusted companions had succumbed to the hunger. The trigger clicked back.

A loud hollow clank echoed as
the hammer fell on an empty chamber.

The noise pulled the
captivated horde out of their trancelike state.

Thalamus blinked. What had
just happened?

Ezekiel sighed. He tucked the
weapon into his waistband before wrapping his arms around the boy. He sighed
again, a long exhalation of regret and disappointment. The young boy looked up
and smiled at the vampire leader.

The boy was a drop of
innocence in a sea of immorality.

Ezekiel returned the smile
and then bent and kissed the boy’s smooth brow. “I love you,” he said.

“I protect you,” the boy
responded, with the same loving affection.

Ezekiel looked up and turned
his attention to those before him. “Now do you understand why we cannot simply
use force to get what we want?” the vampire leader asked.

Some nodded, the truth
revealing itself like a sudden burst of starlight. Others shook their heads,
confused by the act of warmth before them.

Ezekiel explained, “The use
of force will simply endanger our objective. What good is our bounty dead? The
humans would rather die than stand amongst us, so we need to guarantee their
survival to aid us in ours.”

“But how?” Brother Trask
asked.

“We need to find a weakness
that we can exploit.”

Brother Franklin moved
closer. “Such as?”

Ezekiel looked down at his
comrade. “Compassion.”

Franklin
frowned. “Compassion for what?”

Ezekiel’s fangs glinted as
they flashed within a quick, intelligent smile. “Compassion for their own.”

“I don’t understand,” the
gaunt vampire said.

Ezekiel stepped off the
platform, placed his hands onto
Franklin
’s shoulders and said, “What I’m saying, brothers, is
we use the humans we have in captivity to ensure our continued survival.” He
paused for a second, his next sentence certain to cause an outrage. He looked
from one face to the next; all looked beset with the hunger for blood and
bloodshed.

Taking a deep breath, he
said, “We use the human prisoners to make a truce. To form an alliance!”

Chapter Twenty-Six

The first wave of vampires attacked in a swell of
rotten flesh. Out of the store windows they came, pouring from the dark
openings like a swarm of giant insects.

Ben waited until he had about
a dozen bodies in front of him. He let them get within about ten yards before
pulling on the trigger. Fire erupted from the muzzle of the Browning. Instantly
the wave of vampires stopped as the shower of bullets ripped them apart.

Jacob watched as the first
group was torn to shreds. He popped open the cockpit and jumped out.
Immediately, he was thrown to the ground by the powerful downwash of the
rotor-blades. The M16 slipped from his fingers and clattered away. He looked up
to find a dark mass of bodies rushing towards him.

Something stepped in front of
him. He heard a spray of gunfire, and the horde scattered in a dismemberment of
limbs and body parts. Ben’s boot kicked the assault rifle back into his reach.
He took it, climbed to his knees and waited for the next wave. They came,
racing out of the surrounding buildings, shrieking with rage and hunger.

Ben skirted around the nose
of the Huey, taking up position on the right flank. Lieutenant Hutson followed,
her arms laden with ammo-belts. Already, droves of the undead were closing in,
in a nightmare assortment of fiery eyes and snapping fangs. Ben dropped to one
knee, resting the Browning across his thigh. He hit the trigger and the assault
disintegrated before him. He felt cold rain drip from the sky, and he knew it
was a shower of vampire blood. The Browning continued to chatter, ripping
through the buildings, dropping bodies even before they made it outside. The
weapon made a sudden, hollow clunk. Flipping open the loading mechanism, Hutson
fed another belt through. Her fingers struggled with the heat of the loader,
but finally she managed to reload, and with a slap, the mechanism was
reengaged. A second later the weapon burst back into life, and another wave of
vampires was torn apart.

They were falling over each
other, blinded by their demented bloodlust, in a bid to reach the warm-blooded
prize. One vampire eluded them. It zigzagged from left to right, keeping out of
their line of sight, and closed in. A plank of wood rose in its hand, and Jacob
had a second to count all three nails embedded in its end. He brought the
assault rifle up and pulled the trigger. The weapon fell silent, its rage spent
for now.

“Shit!” he cursed.

The spikes drew closer, ready
to spear their catch. But in the vampire’s haste it missed the threat directly
above. And, as the plank readied to strike, it was ripped away by the rotating
blades. The vampire’s hand stayed clamped to the wood. In the blink of an eye
the creature was dragged into the whirl of blades and reduced to nothing larger
than a tooth or nail. A shower of gore scattered, painting the surrounding
walls in blood and tiny chunks of diced flesh.

The wind at Jacob’s back blew
itself out. He looked up and the sky had been filled with a large, threatening
silhouette. The Huey banked to the left and then tore away. Instantly a huge
body of vampires rushed at the three humans trapped at ground level. With
new-found confidence, they surrounded the group and pushed closer, fangs
dripping with saliva.

He felt someone at his back.
He spun round and found Ben there.

“What the fuck are you
doing?” Ben snapped.

“What?”

“You were supposed to help
keep Black Bird grounded,” Ben scolded, “Tate can’t do it alone with only the
one leg!”

“Shit!” he moaned,
remembering his orders.

Ben snarled in annoyance.
Then he unleashed the Browning on the advancing mob. He cut an opening at the
bottom of the horde. “COME ON!” he shouted.

Hutson threw the remaining
belt over her shoulder, aimed her rifle at the closest figure and fired. She
wasted no time in waiting to see the outcome; instead she followed at Ben’s
heels.

All three headed for the
break.

The vampires were closing in,
in an attempt to trap the small group. Jacob ejected his spent magazine and
punched home another. The weapon erupted in gunfire. Four of five bodies fell,
widening their escape route.

Ben and Hutson broke through.
Jacob didn’t make it. The division of vampires tightened and the circle closed
in around him. He summoned his accumulated rage and roared in the group’s
direction. Most caught a glimpse of his canines, and, confused, they stopped.

One of the nearest vampires
opened its mouth. It struggled to form words. “What are you?” it asked, in a
barely recognisable intonation. The noise sounded as if it had come from a
larynx made from rusty barbed wire. Again the vampire forced its question from
its grating throat. “What are you?” it rasped.

“I am your doom,” Jacob
replied, flashing him a grin.

The thing’s grisly face
frowned, “What?”

Jacob lunged forwards,
gripping the fiend’s arms. He looked beyond the thing’s face and offered up a
silent but urgent prayer. Next, bending his legs, he pulled both himself and
the vampire to the ground.

A split second later, Black
Bird swooped down, heading directly towards the undead mob. The GAU-17A
machinegun on the nose of the helicopter spun into life, spitting deadly rain
down onto the mass of vampires. Like cut wheat, the vampires fell to the
ground, the scythe of humanity reaping lost souls.

Jacob felt the body above
twitch and thrash as bullets ripped into its cold flesh. In a bloodied and torn
heap, they landed heavily onto the street. He had a second to see a huge,
terrifying shape tear passed, just feet above him.

Ben stepped through the
massacre. His boots splashed through the many puddles of blood and gore. “Jacob,
where are you?” he called. To his left, one of the slain vampires moved. He
trained the Browning on the figure and his finger tightened on the trigger.

“Wait!” Hutson warned.

His finger relaxed, ever so
slightly.

The vampire rose to a sitting
position. It toppled to its side and Jacob Cain appeared from behind it.

Ben laughed heartily and
said, “Jacob, this is no time for sleeping on the job.”

“Funny,
real
funny,”
Jacob replied. “Almost got my ass blown off.” He stood and turned to reveal a
gash along the seat of his pants.

“Ha! I believe Tate has had
her revenge,” Ben remarked, between howls of amusement.

“Laugh it up, hair ball,”
Jacob replied.

“It’s a good job Tate’s a
perfect shot,” Ben continued.

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed, “I
ain’t arguing with that.”

Some of the bodies writhed
about. Lieutenant Hutson stepped from one body to the next. Her rifle cracked
intermittently and, by the time she’d walked full circle, all of the vampires
lay still.

In the distance, they heard
the cry of madness. It reached out from the surrounding streets and avenues
like a siren warning of an impending doom.

“We’d better go,” Ben said.

“Wait,” Hutson called. “What
about the crate? We’ll need it, right?”

“Yeah, but not here. Tate’ll
make sure we get it, once needed.”

All three turned in the
direction of the
Empire
State
Building
. Strewn outside its open lobby were about two dozen
bodies, or what remained of bodies. Tate and Nick had done one hell of a job.
They crossed the blood-soaked streets and stopped just outside the lobby. Twin
eagles of stone perched on either side of the entrance.

Ben tilted his head upwards.
“I hope these boots were made for walking,” he said.

“Why’s that?” Jacob asked.

“Because, Jacob, it’s a hell
of a long way up to the eighty-sixth floor.”

Jacob looked up at the
immense height of the building. It stretched away in an enormous column of
glass and granite, and disappeared halfway up into a cloud of darkness. A
grumble of misery escaped from his lips. Why hadn’t Tate just dropped them off
higher? As if in response, the wind howled tremendously and the whole side of
the building seemed to sway under its might. The remaining windows shuddered
violently.

This was going to be one hell
of a climb.