Vampire Apocalypse: Descent Into Chaos (Book 2) (35 page)

He was already so beyond pain that he merely laughed
as he saw the blood seeping from the dying vampire’s wounds. He
rejoiced as he sank his teeth into the creature and savored the
fire that spread through him as he sucked the creature dry. His
body took the sustenance and began to knit bone and stitch flesh
back together. The agony was glorious.

Wentworth struggled to rise. He had to find out what
had happened with Von Kruger. Was he dead? The explosion had torn
his own arm from his body at the elbow and the flesh was shredded
up to his shoulder and over most of his chest. The pain was
incredible but he felt a certain satisfaction that he had brought
down the mighty Von Kruger with his mind rather than brute
strength.

He had to make sure it was over, though. He tried to
rise but his body was shutting down as it used every ounce of his
reserves to heal the damage done to him. He saw another vampire
fall to the ground just a short distance away, and then he shivered
as he heard a cry of triumph.

He felt fear grip him and he just knew that his
gambit had failed. Somehow Von Kruger had survived and was already
healing far more rapidly than he was. He forced his nausea away and
struggled up with his remaining good arm. He looked out over the
carnage and saw nothing but dark shapes fringed with white like a
mad artist’s depiction of Christmas in Hell.

He forced himself to his feet and ignored the pain as
his knees buckled. There was no way he was going to die on his
knees.

“Where are you, Von Kruger?” he shouted and felt his
head swim with the effort.

“It nearly worked, I’ll give you that,” Von Kruger
replied as he stood up suddenly a few feet away. For a moment all
Wentworth could see were the whites of his eyes, but then the
clouds passed over the moon and silvery light illuminated the
blood-splattered countenance of his nemesis. Von Kruger had lost
the madness that had plagued him earlier, and the master looked
every bit the invincible monster he was reputed to be. He rose
swiftly to his full height and crossed the short distance between
them and laid a hand on Wentworth’s shoulder in an almost fatherly
way.

“Something is happening to us, my friend.” Wentworth
was surprised a Von Kruger’s calm words and merely nodded. “The
blood lust has never been so strong for our race. Something has
enhanced it and we must overcome it or we will all die.”

For a moment Wentworth thought that there might be a
chance of reconciliation, but then Von Kruger smiled and looked
deep into his eyes. Suddenly his body convulsed as Von Kruger’s
hand plunged into his chest and ripped his heart out in one fluid
motion.

“Of course, we will have to find out what it is
without you.” Von Kruger lifted Wentworth’s heart up to his enemy
and then plunged his teeth into the soft flesh. Wentworth died with
that vision imprinted on his eyes and carried it with him to
hell.

Harris pressed himself against the coal in a vain
attempt to merge with the rocks and avoid the bullets slamming into
the carriage around him. The jeep was level with them and the heavy
bullets were destroying the controls. Tanner lay slumped against
the door of the furnace, and his sizzling flesh was overpowering
even in the open compartment. Tanner was either dead or would wish
he was when and if he woke. Blood oozed from a wound in his chest
where the Browning had shattered his breastbone and it left them
completely unprotected on that side.

Sandra had managed to wake Flemming, but he was in
shock and still hadn’t released the pressure in the engine. The
trucks had caught them easily as they had lost speed and, while
they were still traveling at a fair speed, it wasn’t enough to
outdistance the other vehicles.

He dove around the small cover he did have and sent
two three-round bursts at an armored truck that had closed right
against the train. His first burst caught a thrall just as he was
about to grab hold of the first carriage behind him and pull
himself aboard. The bullets slammed into him and caused him to miss
his intended mark, and the thrall fell between the train and the
truck and disappeared under the wheels.

His second burst bounced harmlessly off the armor
around the truck’s front panels, but the sparks caused the driver
to slam on the brakes and they fell behind quite some distance
before the thrall managed to recover and regain his speed.

He had no idea how Mitchell was doing but he hoped he
had taken care of the thralls at the back of the train or they
could expect visitors any minute. Flemming shook his head and
leaned on Sandra as she lifted him up to the controls. Bullets
clanged around them and Harris flew over to the other side of the
train, taking a moment to pull Tanner away from the hot metal and
lay him on the floor, before sending a burst at the jeep with the
Browning. He could see an officer in the passenger seat, and the
bastard was smiling as the jeep bounced across a grass verge and
closed to within a few feet of the engine compartment.

Harris pulled the trigger again but the gun clicked
empty. He scrambled to reload. He saw the Browning line up and he
knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was over. There was no way
they could miss. He clenched his muscles as if by doing so he might
deflect the bullets.

Falconi braced himself as the jeep bounced over the
uneven surface but his blood sang in his veins. I have them, he
gloated as he struggled to keep his weapon level. He could see the
sparks of the Browning’s heavy ammunition as it struck the metal of
the carriage, and he laughed into the wind. There were only four
figures in the engine compartment, and two of them were already out
of the fight. This was going to be easier than he had thought.

He motioned for the driver to pull closer, and when
nothing happened he looked down angrily at the driver. The driver
was staring in front of him, ignoring Falconi’s shouted abuse.
Falconi felt a strange sensation grip him. On impulse he turned his
head to look out in front of the jeep and his blood turned to ice.
He had only a moment to prepare a scream but the sound never made
it from his lips.

The jeep suddenly disappeared in a fireball, and the
ruined remains tumbled end over end, actually pulling ahead of the
train for a moment and then hitting a power pylon and stopping
dead.

Harris had no idea what had happened, but he wasn’t
about to question it. He finished reloading and checked where the
other thralls were. Two trucks still followed on this side but both
had dropped back to avoid the flaming remains of the jeep. He
switched sides and sent a burst at the truck that he had hit
earlier, but the driver was ready this time and only swerved a
little when the bullets sparked around him.

He looked back at Flemming and Sandra. Sandra was
bent over Tanner, and Flemming was pulling and cursing at levers
and turning dials as he tried to repair the worst of the damage and
coax more speed. Harris left the two of them alone and felt the
train pick up speed again. He looked over the fuel compartment but
could see nothing but swirling snow and grey smoke. Where was
Mitchell?

At that moment Scott Mitchell was easing his way
along the roof of the train. The wind bit and snapped at him,
freezing his fingers and face as he tried to maintain a grip on the
carriage. The force of the wind made it impossible to rise above a
crouch, and he found it hard to breathe as smoke from the engine
poured back around him and filled his lungs. He couldn’t see
anything except for grey smoke and white flecks of snow, and he
questioned again why he had decided to do this.

When he had seen the thralls jump onto the back of
the train he had acted automatically. The train had still been
negotiating the town’s outer limits and the trail of carriages had
not straightened out so his vision had been unimpaired. But then
the train had hit a straight run and all the smoke and crap from
the funnel flew directly back along its length. He would have been
better off letting the thralls come to him and let them suffer the
choking smog. He passed the gap between the first and second
carriages and decided to drop down for some clean air. As soon as
he dropped level with the carriage roof the pounding noise and fury
of the wind stopped and it was as if he had closed a door. The
sound of the wheels clicking on the tracks still assaulted his ears
but the mad whistling of the wind was gone. The air still reeked of
smoke but there was fresh air too and he gulped gratefully and
coughed as the clean air hit his lungs and they tried to expel the
grunge.

He looked up and noted that he had quite a good view
a few feet in each direction despite the swirling snow. The ground
whipped past below him in a blur as the train began to pick up
speed. The carriages shook as the wheels trundled over the tracks,
but he decided to stay where he was and wait on the thrall invaders
to come to him.

It seemed like an age before he saw the head of the
first thrall appear above him. He moved slowly and carefully, bent
forward to cut through the wind and with his eyes squinted tightly,
almost closed, in an effort to keep the smoke and snow from
blinding him. Mitchell pressed back against the far carriage as the
thrall jumped over the gap and continued on.

Mitchell allowed his XM8 to drop around his back by
its sling and then pulled himself up the small ladder onto the
roof. Smoke and wind and snow immediately sought him out and his
eyes watered terribly under the assault reducing his vision to
vague, indistinct shapes. However, there was only one thrall and
his shape was easily identifiable against the grey background of
the smoke and snow. Mitchell stayed on the ladder and kept low to
avoid the worst of the smoke and brought his weapon to bear. The
thrall never heard him and arched upwards as the first bullets hit
him in the back. Mitchell felt no pity or embarrassment about
shooting the creature in the back—the bastards had killed his
entire family and he whooped in joy as the thrall slipped and fell
from the carriage, disappearing with an almost girlish scream as he
dropped into the gloom beneath the train.

Mitchell pulled himself up onto the roof and was
about to make his way back along the carriages when he heard a
harsh chuckle behind him despite the roar of the wind. He turned
and started as a second thrall raised something and slashed
outwards towards him. Mitchell had just enough time to see a glint
of steel, and then his hands were clutching his throat as he fell
to his knees. He was still alive when the thrall kicked him to the
side and he felt himself slide off the roof. He lashed out with
everything he had left and grabbed at the thrall’s leg. His hand
was slippery with his own blood and his weight was already pulling
him off the roof, but his grip was that of a desperate man. The
thrall kicked at him but the added weight had pulled him off the
centre of the roof where the wood had less support. It was old and
it gave way with a sharp crack.

Mitchell felt himself fall but held onto his victim,
and both figures were caught by the wind and sucked down towards
the wheels. There was a brief, agonizing pain and then both figures
disappeared under the relentless passage of the train.

Steele was almost frozen by the time he felt the
vampires begin to lose altitude and glide down to the small town
below. He had no idea how long he had been in the air but it had
felt like a lifetime. The vampires flew so high that the air was
like ice and his breathing was painful and labored. His hands were
numb, and he had long ago lost feeling in his face. His eyes were
frozen into mere slits but he could still see enough to identify
the lights and buildings of Von Richelieu’s stronghold.

Von Richelieu liked the heat and had set up his base
along the West Coast, taking territories that were well supplied
with nuclear power and humans. He had ample access to everything he
and his thralls needed to survive for centuries in perfect comfort.
In fact, the only downside would be if there was a major
earthquake. Even that, though, would not be enough to set him back
for long as he could merely move further inland and start
again.

The town was large enough to house Von Richelieu’s
personal guard, thirty ancient vampires that were religiously loyal
to him, seeing him more as a God than a fellow vampire. Von
Richelieu’s town lit up the night’s sky for many miles in every
direction as his over-abundance of power was flaunted in the faces
of those less fortunate vampires surrounding his territory. Steele
could see the pens filled with humans as they drew closer. There
were thousands of them held in huge cages, far more than Von
Richelieu could possibly ever need. The humans slept in the open
and small fires dotted the entire expanse of their camp, throwing
weak light over the cruel reality of their existence. Steele could
see the smaller bodies of children huddled near the fires, naked
and skeletal in their cruel treatment. He felt his heart beat with
hatred as the reality he had ignored for two years finally tore
down the last of the walls he had erected after his sister’s
death.

Steele’s skin began to tingle as the warmer air
washed over him and, by the time he landed and fell to the ground,
his body pulsed painfully as his blood began to sear through him.
Much of it was the pain of the blood pumping through parts of his
body that had been almost frozen, but his hatred for the vampires,
and his own shame, burned painfully within him as he struggled to
rise.

“Stay here,” the vampire who had carried him ordered
and then strode off to make his report. Steele threw his rucksack
over his shoulder and followed the vampire without a word. A thrall
stepped in front of him, chest puffed up with his own
self-importance, but Steele glared at the soldier. For a moment the
thrall held his gaze. But then he seemed to lose some of his height
as he saw something in Steele’s eyes that made him reconsider. The
thrall dropped his eyes and Steele pushed past him and followed the
vampire.