What Happens in the Darkness (22 page)

“Please,” Martin said, struggling to his knees, wiping the blood from his face. “You have to believe me. I never meant for this to happen.” A tooth fell out of his mouth. Not that it mattered; his body would regenerate itself within hours.

Head hung, blood streaming from a badly damaged eye, Jeff climbed to his feet. “I’ll never forgive you for this.
Never
,” he said, his voice guttural. “You killed me, and I will
never
forget it.”

Jeff staggered through the door.

“No—wait!” Martin started to follow but changed his mind. He would never be able to convince Jeff to stay, and he certainly wasn’t going to have his forgiveness. Not now. He’d have to let him go. Besides, it was almost sunrise.

He only hoped Jeff knew this. Being a new vampire, Jeff might not yet be attuned to his internal clock. If he didn’t find shelter soon, he’d be charcoal under the sun’s harsh rays.

Chapter 17 

That evening Dagan and Rebecca shared their plan with the others. Samantha and Nelson were the two they had chosen to lead the others inland.

Instruction was minimal; they had all been trained by Martin at the army base only days earlier, so this was an update, and a refresher course.

Sammi, short curly red hair and pale freckles standing out on her dead, white pallor, looked like a diseased Raggedy Ann doll. Her icy blue eyes, rimmed scarlet because of her recent consumption of blood, shined with eagerness and intelligence.

Nelson repeatedly licked his lips, as if enjoying his mouth and tongue, endlessly poking and counting each tooth. His kinky salt-and-pepper hair was short-cropped and perfectly cut. His beard was equally neat, trimmed perfectly along his jaw line. Despite his age there was an energy about him, and it was apparent this had been inherent in his life as much as it was now a part of his death.

Rebecca spread the map on the floor, and the four huddled over it.

“We’re here.” She indicated the circled section on the west coastal area in California. “This will be our starting point. Obviously.” She smiled. “Dagan will follow Northeast—” Her fingers trailed the map, moving in an arc through Salt Lake City, Bismarck, Pierre, Des Moines, and dozens of tiny towns interspersed throughout, finishing in Jefferson City.

“Dagan’s is the least direct route. But he’s fast and will be able to cover a lot of terrain. This is the meeting point, Jefferson City. There’s a small town near JC, called Pitchfork. This is where we’ll meet. It won’t be a clean sweep. There just aren’t enough of us to cover such a vast area, but we’ll do the best we can. Sammi, you’ll head east, on a slight northward angle. This is your route.”

Her fingers traced Phoenix and Santa Fe before resting on Oklahoma City.

“This includes every little town you pass, many of which won’t be found on any map. We don’t expect them to be highly populated with enemy soldiers, but you never know. They may be using these small towns as base camps, so check out everything.

“Nelson, you’ll start farther south and move east as well. El Paso, Lubbock, Oklahoma City, finally reaching Jefferson City. My group and I will take the scenic route. I’ve always wanted to visit Mexico.” She laughed. “We’ll travel south through Mexico and cross over at Culiacan, then back into Texas. Laredo, Houston, swing over to Baton Rouge, Montgomery, Little Rock, finish up in Jefferson City.

“Keep in mind the landscape may have changed, so be flexible when needed. Especially after so many bombings … there’s no way of knowing what’s still intact.”

Rebecca studied their faces. “Questions?” She handed each of them a map. “Your routes have been highlighted. Obviously if there are any problems, do what you need to survive. Deviate from the path laid out. But try to reach the rendezvous point within three days.”

Dagan said, “It’s
voi
tal t’stay on track, if y’can. And r’member t’never travel fahrtha than y’can b’fore foindin’ shelter. Always give y’selfs toim t’find shelter—at least an aaaahr b’fore sunup. ’Kay?”

Sammi and Nelson nodded but looked at each other.

“Need me to translate?” Rebecca asked. She looked at Dagan. “You sounded like a blasted pirate,” and Dagan punched her in the arm.

“We’ll wait three nights,” Rebecca said, grinning. “Although it shouldn’t take more than two, one if you’re especially fast. Kill every enemy soldier in your path. Do not sire any vampires. Is that clear?”

They nodded again.

“The penalty for disobedience is death,” Dagan said.

“We would never disobey,” Sammi said, looking stunned that he would even suggest such a thing.

They all looked at Nelson, who was still playing with his teeth.

“No,” he sputtered, “never. Sorry.” He grinned. “I just ain’t used to these teeth. I ain’t had nothing but falsies for twenty-odd years now. Feels good!”

Rebecca grinned and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “We’re divided into four groups of about fifteen each. Now would be a good time to ask questions if you have any.”

They thought for a moment.

“They’ll listen to us?” Sammi asked. “I mean, like they do with you?”

“They know you’re in charge,” Rebecca said. “And they know the penalty for disobedience.”

“Any other questions?” Dagan asked, but there weren’t any. 

*** 

They set out, four teams headed in four directions.

Rebecca and her group followed the southwestern coastal line, freeing a shipload of American prisoners near Puerto Libertad, including a galley filled with US soldiers, badly beaten and tortured.

They continued east, now changing direction slightly north, crossing Mexico, going from Culiacan to Laredo, killing soldiers throughout Texas and Louisiana. They found shelter in a root cellar in an old hotel in New Orleans and planned to finish their journey the following evening.

Nelson led his group through Southern Phoenix, Sun City, and Payson, later relating how he hadn’t found as many enemy camps as Rebecca’s group. Most of the enemy bases were empty, prisoners being herded toward the coasts. Towns were swarmed with enemy soldiers setting up homes, moving into the houses, taking over shops.

Before becoming a vampire, Nelson had owned a bait and tackle shop in Virginia Beach, so it gave him great pleasure to reclaim the mom-and-pop shops from the invaders.

He led his vampires to a warehouse, and they took refuge in a windowless employee lounge. 

*** 

Sammi led her group through northern Phoenix and up toward Santa Fe without incident, stopping in the small town of Taos, Pop. 5713. Errant soldiers were attacked, but no matter where they traveled, there was never more than a handful. She began to think they were wasting their time and wondered if she shouldn’t head toward the coast instead. Maybe find Rebecca. Then she remembered her orders.

Her vampires waited around her.

She stared off into the distance. “Mountains are that way,” she said. “I don’t think we should risk shelter. I’m not even sure there’s another town close by.” She pulled the map out of her pocket and unfolded it.

Something felt strange. Her skills weren’t yet honed, her senses as a vampire still weak, inexperienced. But still, something felt odd, and she was picking up a peculiar scent on the wind.

The outskirts of the town of Taos were quiet. Rusted signs swung on screeching hinges, blowing in the slight breeze. But other than that there were few other noises. A shutter occasionally slammed against the side of a house, or a renegade cat howled in the distance.

But other than that, it was quiet.

Quiet.

The stores lining the streets included two bars, a card shop, a deli. Any of these stores would likely have a good basement, hopefully with windowless storerooms. This was tornado country, after all.

Sammi threw back her shoulders, shrugging off the shawl of discomfort. Nerves ached with raw energy, but she didn’t understand why. She wasn’t yet in touch with her own visceral emotions.

She waited for someone in the crowd to question her, hoped it would happen, but no one did. Sammi was in charge, and no one was going to doubt her actions.

Stepping toward the bar on the corner, she crossed the street and approached the front door.

Her vampires followed, moving as a close pack, huddling closely behind her at the entrance.

When Sammi turned around—that uncomfortable feeling had become sheer panic—she and her vampires were surrounded by enemy soldiers.

Some held guns in their hands but most held crossbows—and all weapons were trained on the vampires’ hearts or heads.

The soldiers were adorned with crosses of every imaginable size and shape.

Above their heads, more soldiers, also dressed in suits made of crosses, held bottles of water in their hands.

Sammi opened her mouth, intending to yell, but nothing came out. Every muscle in her body locked. Even her tongue lay useless in her mouth.

Dead silence as thick as blood filled the air.

The enemy command was given, breaking the silence. “Fire!”

The soldiers overhead emptied the contents of the pots, splashing the vampires with the holy water that sizzled on their skin, destroying it on contact. Across the street the soldiers fired their crossbows, a stream of arrows racing through the air and impaling the vampires, their bodies exploding when the wooden arrows made contact with their hearts. The mortally wounded fell to the ground, the undead dead once again. This time there would be no resurrection.

“Run,” Sammi croaked, unable to move. “Run!” Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into the street, saving her from the arrow that missed her by inches.

“Move!” the vampire yelled at Sammi and at the rest of the vampires.

They ran into the streets, dodging arrows and hoses streaming holy water. Struck vampires exploded into flames, screaming in agony until their fiery death reduced them to ashes, silencing them forever.

Of the sixteen vampires that walked into the town of Taos, only three survived to flee into the mountains.

Sunrise was in twelve minutes.

They raced aimlessly through the mountains, wind and leaves and twigs whirling in their dizzying wake. Despite their tremendous speed they could not find shelter. No caves, no shacks, nothing but trees everywhere. They came across a huge clearing, sparse trees spotting the landscape.

Sammi was panicked, and the three vampires moved in circles, looking frantically for an idea, any idea.

Sunrise was in three minutes.

“Dig!” one yelled, falling to his knees and pawing at the soft earth. He attacked the ground and tore through the soil, pulling away mounds in great scoops, frantically trying to dig himself a grave.

The other two attacked the ground, trying to dig holes they could hide in.

Sammi found a sharp rock and used it to loosen the soil, pawing away like a dog, digging, digging.

The warmth of the sun was unbearable. They felt it rising, had only a minute left before it fully rose.

Sammi threw herself into her hole, frantically pulling dirt on top of her body, trying to pack herself into her makeshift grave. Her exposed arm was the shovel that pulled the dirt onto her face and neck, and before she could finally pull it beneath the soil, it burst into flames.

She dragged her burning arm into the dirt, extinguishing the fire. The pain was excruciating, but she would have to deal with it until sunset. Soil filled her mouth and eyes and nostrils. Small bugs assaulted her skin, climbed in and out of her ears.

But she couldn’t move, couldn’t risk exposing her body to the deadly rays of the sun.

The sun found the vampire who had been unable to hide. Sammi heard his terrible screams, the sizzle and pop of his flesh. She squeezed her eyes shut and winced.

His anguished screams tortured her until they finally faded away, and he existed no more.

She would have to endure this for more than eight hours, wait an interminable amount of time for the procrastinating sun to finally set again.

Chapter 18 

Global Dominion soldiers ran up Second Avenue, yelling and screaming like they were fleeing from the devil.

Janelle watched, well-hidden behind the shell of a Mustang. Seconds later, a blur of light streaked past her and caught the soldiers.

All movement stopped for the briefest second before the attack was underway.

Clutching small crosses in both fists, Janelle ventured closer, scared by the brutal attacks, but not as afraid as she had once been. At this point she was more curious than afraid.

The noises were hideous: slobbering, slavering grunts and crunches. Janelle moved even closer to get a better look.

It was over before she reached them. Ten soldiers lay dead, strewn about like discarded newspaper, their mutilated bodies illuminated by the glow of the nearby trashcan bonfire. Blood filled the gutters beneath them. Their heads were cocked at bizarre angles.

The two vampires who had done so much damage so quickly were alerted to Janelle’s presence.

She held up the crosses in her shaking fists. “Stay away from me. Martin says these will protect me!”

They strolled over, wiping the splattered blood from their cheeks, licking their gore-coated lips, and studied what she held in her hands.

Janelle looked at their faces and gasped, her slackening fingers nearly dropping the crosses. “It’s you.”

The vampires were Sandra and Matt, the couple who had taken her in and fed her, letting her rest in the bank vault. She’d hidden beneath the cot and watched, the first time she had seen a vampire attack. She had watched as—

As Sandra and Matt had been killed.

“No,” Janelle whispered, tears staining her cheeks. “Not you. I was hoping—”

“Hoping what?” Matt asked, “for a miracle? That maybe we were
dead
dead?” He snorted. “But here we are, kid. Right?”

Janelle sniffed, wiping away the tears with her palms. “I guess. I didn’t know you were one of
them
.”