The Fly-By-Nights (29 page)

Big Jon, having sketched a greatly condensed history of the clan’s arduous trek, had now offered the floor to the leader of the expeditionary force.

The commander, a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early to mid-thirties, with hollow cheeks, a deeply furrowed brow, and a shock of prematurely white hair, was quick to bring everyone up to date on recent kindred activity:

“After we lost contact with you,” he began, “our leaders in both our rapidly declining, indeed moribund subterranean refuge and in our open-skies settlement alike found themselves in something of a quandary. Had the unexplained radio silence resulted from a simple failure of equipment, or was the problem far more disturbing: perhaps a fly-by-night attack, in which your entire convoy, clan and creatures had been destroyed! They had no way of knowing.

“Arguing all the pros and cons, finally they arrived at a solution. Crumbling prewar maps showed three perhaps passable routes from your last known approximate location to more familiar, secured kindred borders; borders now scarcely more than a dozen miles away beyond the valley’s northern rise! If you had survived the perils of your trek, then surely your convoy must even now be very close, approaching along one of these routes.

“A decision was made: an expeditionary force would be dispatched to the edge of the densely forested region south of the fertile, mainly radiation-free zone that we have cleared of all fly-by-night pestilence; for inasmuch as we have built and occupied it, it is our homeland, patrolled constantly day and night with absolute vigilance and, whenever necessary, uttermost ferocity, permitting neither sight, smell nor faintest taint of
any
vampire creature within…within our…within our borders!” 

He paused, visibly calming himself and shrugging apologetically before carrying on with his narrative. “Please excuse me, but such emotions—such bitter hatreds—are innate in all the kindred; no less than in you yourselves, I’m sure. But to continue:

“At the great forest’s rim our considerable force was split three ways equally, which allowed us to advance along all three routes simultaneously. That was at noon two days ago, since when we have maintained constant radio contact. My contingent, which as you’ve seen consists of three small armoured combat vehicles crewed by hugely experienced men—plus eight outriders on four multi-terrain motorcycles, plus one armoured support vehicle—was tasked with the forest route that follows the ancient river road through the mighty pines, and down and across the valley’s floor. Two evenings ago—which is to say on the evening of the night prior to this night—I sent two outrider teams ahead of me, down into the valley to commence checking the route’s viability; for it would have been a waste of fuel, time and effort if the route proved to be impassable.

“It was early evening when my advance exploratory party set out. Descending the densely forested northern rim parallel with the river’s white water, they made camp for the night in a cave they could very easily defend, with two men awake at all times, and the other two taking their rest. But before retiring to the cave, one man climbed up into the canopy of the tallest tree to scan the land south along the river through his infrared binoculars. He was looking for signs of your convoy, of course.

“Now, as I’m sure you’re well aware, vampire activity is by no means easily detectable with infrared. Except when they mass together in a swarm, or when they’re engaged in frenzied bloodletting, undead bodily temperatures are extremely low. Well, be that as it may, what my man up that tree witnessed some four or five miles away in the gloom of early night was definitely fly-by-night activity! They were flowing down the southern slope in a steady stream, following the identical route that your convoy might well be using—which indeed you
have
used—just one day later.

“But their movements were very deliberate; they had purpose and appeared full of a sly, covert intent, which wasn’t in accordance with any normally arbitrary or eccentric mode of undead tactics—or complete lack of such—to which we’re accustomed! And fascinated, my man continued to watch.

“Now the horde gathered here—right here, on the edge of the forest—and for a while remained static. Then the greater bulk of them, if not all of them, set out over that half-sunken bridge and vanished into those mainly derelict mills on the far side. Now remember: it was night time, which is their time, yet these creatures weren’t hunting; they were
hiding
! And for what possible purpose but to lie low, waiting in ambush!

“Well, let me cut a long story short. An hour before midday yesterday one of my outrider teams reported back to me, following which we spent the entire afternoon motoring or coasting as quietly as possible down through the forest into the valley.

“Before dusk we set up our temporary camp some three miles north in the forest along the river road, which has managed to survive in however poor condition, and were in time to witness the tail-end of your convoy—or what remains of it—groping and groaning its way down the southern wall. You’ll forgive my manner of expression, but that was a sorry sight indeed…”

“Hah!” Bert Jordan spoke up, snapping his fingers. “You saw and you were seen, even though I misinterpreted the sighting!”

And Big Jon nodded. “Your thunder and lightning, eh, Bert?”

“It had to be,” the other replied. “Kindred headlight beams penetrating the high canopy, and their rumbling engines as they positioned themselves.”

At which the commander took it up again:

“Aye, and position ourselves we did, so that when the time came we’d be fully prepared, ready to advance on the enemy with all speed, and with fire and sleeting steel at our fingertips!”

Quiet until now, Garth frowned and inquired, “When the time came?” And:

“Ah!” said the commander. “By which I mean when the fly-by-nights began to spring their trap, of course.”

Big Jon was plainly puzzled; his frown matched Garth’s when he asked: “But not
before
their trap was sprung?”

“Ah!” the commander replied once again. “You are asking why we waited so long. Please understand, the kindred never miss an opportunity to destroy the undead wherever they are found. Such were this swarm’s suspected numbers that the cull might well be of epic proportions! However, since our battle vehicles weren’t able to cross the fragile bridge, we had to wait for the fly-by-nights to come to us—or rather, to you. In effect we ambushed the ambushers! But…don’t for a moment think we deliberately risked clan lives. On the contrary; we witnessed your defenders going down to the river crossings, and calculated how you could contain the vampires when they came in a narrow stream over the bridge. Also, we knew it would take only a few minutes to cover the distance between, in which we were not mistaken.

“Our only miscalculation: that you lacked superior weapons; which meant our timing was cut close indeed! Mercifully no harm resulted from that. But of course we had no way of knowing that this was a two-forked ambush, with a dozen of these vile monsters riding overhead in the canopy. Now as you mourn your dead, we’ll stand with you, nevertheless thankful that such grievous losses are by no means as bad as they might have been.

“And finally, now that we’ve come together and your people are out of harm’s way, let us also be thankful that all’s well that ends well…”

“On that we heartily agree!” said Big Jon, taking and shaking the commander’s hand most vigorously. “My only wish is that we could have brought with us a greater contribution—a tribute much more in keeping—to you and your kindred, whose promise of a better life and future above ground, safe in the light of day, has buoyed us up and given us hope during our trek.”

“No! Ah, no!” Smiling broadly the commander shook his head.

“For we need you and your clan at least as much as you need us. I’ve seen your beasts, which will fatten in our clean northern pastures, mating with and improving our livestock overall. And as for your people—” he looked around, at the lamp-lit faces of the clansfolk who were beginning to gather there, “—plenty of good brave blood here, which has not surrendered to fear and fly-by-night depredation. And then there’s your young ones, and especially those who are approaching maturity…well, we have young too, but no fears now of the perils of inbreeding. Indeed our blood will grow stronger and purer yet; but always
ours
and never more fodder for loathsome creatures of the night! Aye!”

At which: “Aye! Aye!” The cry was at once taken up, spreading rapidly throughout the entire encampment…

Something less than an hour later, Big Jon Lamon, Garth and his father, stood with other silent once-clan members—now members of a greater community: the kindred, who were also represented—around a bale-fire on cleared ground well beyond the edge of the woods and within a new, stronger perimeter, and watched the leaping flames consume the bodies of friends and dreadful enemies alike.

To the former they offered their sad, silent farewells, and to the latter their uttermost satisfaction. The stench was very terrible, but they stood there anyway until only glowing embers remained…

And later still, wrapped in each others’ arms, Garth and Layla dreamed of pleasant pastures, a wooden cabin in a copse high on a hill, and small children playing, laughing in an orchard pink with blossom. But while the cabin would take time to build, and the children yet more time to grow, the dream itself was not so far away, for tomorrow it would merge with reality…