Vampire Apocalypse: A World Torn Asunder (Book 1) (6 page)

“Lord Nero,” Williams really did
not want to interrupt the creature. He knew that he was lucky to be
alive, but he also knew that there were worse things than a quick
death so he steeled himself and continued. “We found this beside
the coffins.” He leaned forward and offered the card.

Nero snapped the card so quickly
Williams didn’t realise the note was gone until the creature was
unfolding it. He watched the vampire examine the neat flowing
script and he tensed as he waited for its reaction. Williams had
looked at the note earlier, when he had found it at the scene, and
he fully expected the creature to fly into a rage. He wondered why
the humans would add insult to their actions by baiting the
vampires further. Why would they threaten them?

But Nero didn’t fly into a rage.
Instead the creature smiled a horrible, grotesque smile, and
crumpled the note. “I want two hundred humans rounded up at random
for tomorrow night. These heroes,” Nero spat the word
sarcastically, “will be shown the consequences of their
actions.”

Chapter 3

The early morning sun began its
laborious journey of the new day. Its rays, still weak from the
early hour, fought with the myriad shadows that still dominated the
city. Harris easily assumed the slow, awkward gait of those around
him and tried not to stare at the surrounding scenes of
disrepair.

The vampires cared little for
the living conditions of their food supply. After they had taken
over they had merely erected walls around the cities and left the
survivors to do as they would within these huge pens. Except, of
course, for the thralls and the serum.

The thralls were not vampires,
but not fully human either. The vampires could not function in the
daylight, so they needed others to protect them during the day and
to police their food supply. The thralls, so named due to their
total bond of obedience to the vampires, had all been bitten but
not fully drained. The condition gave them strength beyond human
capabilities, but nowhere near the level of their vampire masters.
They were allowed to live in luxury and do as they pleased with
their charges, so long as the quota of fresh blood was
achieved.

“God-damned serum,” Harris fumed
silently as he passed two thralls manhandling a woman too doped to
defend herself.

The vampires had developed the
serum to keep the humans docile. Each month everyone was forced to
attend their local clinic for a fresh injection. The thralls kept
records and they rounded up and killed anyone who failed to attend.
Harris and the others did not know much about the serum; its
ingredients and how it actually worked were still a mystery to
them, but they did know that it acted to slow down the body’s
ability to interpret signals from the brain.

Each and every one of the people
living in the city were fully aware of the horror around them, but
were physically unable to do anything about it. Although the city
was surrounded by walls, each person inhabited their own private
cell: able to eat, dress and perform simple, mundane tasks, but
completely incapable of acting independently to save themselves or
those they loved.

Harris had grown up in this city
and it tore his heart to see the once beautiful Town Square, always
awash with blooming flowers and laughter, now desolate and dark.
His father had brought him here regularly and they’d sit and watch
the world go by, neither one saying anything as they soaked up the
life that surrounded them. Harris felt deep regret when he
remembered his parents. His mother had been the glue that held the
family together, although he never knew how she had put up with
three men in the family.

She had died of cancer two years
previously. Soon after that his brother Josh had taken off and they
hadn’t heard from him since. His father, once a tall mountain of a
man had shrunk terribly after the stroke last year and, though the
doctors had said that he should recover fully, he never had. Harris
knew that no medicine could have treated the real reason for his
death. His wife’s passing had drained his vitality and spark; the
prospect of a lonely old age was just not worth fighting for.

Harris had enrolled in the local
university to study Engineering and, although he had plenty of
friends, he often came down to the square alone for lunch to enjoy
the area’s sunshine and vitality and remember happier times. The
fountain in the middle of the square, previously the centrepiece
with water gushing from its twin spouts, was now dry. Clumps of
weeds and dead flowers spilled out over the fountain basin; limp
and desiccated. There was no life in the city anymore just the
dull, grey hopelessness of a defeated people.

Harris stopped at a red brick
building at the end of the street and joined a queue of about ten
people. When he finally shuffled into the serum room, he suppressed
the urge to run, and had a difficult time concealing the look of
shock that wanted to register on his face.

Twelve thralls, he thought
frantically. He tried to keep his emotions under control but he
could feel his face flush and he tried to lower his head to hide
his reaction. There had never been more than four thralls before,
and that had been in the early days of the serum. In the last year
one or two very bored thralls had overseen these sessions and it
had been an easy matter to fool them.

Harris” heart skipped a beat
when two thralls approached him. The first grabbed his right arm
roughly, while the other pulled up Harris” sleeve and plunged a
large needle into the soft flesh just below the elbow. Pain shot
through his arm and Harris bit down firmly. He clamped his teeth
firmly together to stifle the scream that threatened to burst from
his throat. Somehow he maintained the stoical look of indifference
that he assumed this “test” was meant to challenge. Properly
sedated humans would feel the pain, but would be unable to react to
it. Only when the thralls moved on to the person behind him did
Harris allow a small grimace to appear.

Thoughts jumbled frantically
through his head. Had they been discovered? Did the thralls know
how they avoided the serum? All the time that his mind desperately
searched for an answer his body continued to shuffle along in the
queue. His heart hammered in his chest, but he reasoned that the
thralls couldn’t know everything. If they did then they would have
searched both arms much more closely. This test obviously meant the
vampires knew that some humans had figured out a way to avoid the
serum, but they didn’t yet know how. These thoughts calmed Harris
somewhat and he was still deep in thought when he reached the top
of the queue.

At the end of the room the serum
dispenser squatted on a low table like some huge, ugly bug. This
was the time he was most vulnerable. Harris pulled up the sleeve of
his left arm. As he plunged it into the small hole in the top of
the machine, he turned it clockwise as far as he could. He prayed
the guards would not notice which arm he used but he couldn’t look
around to see if he was being observed because such movement
definitely would attract attention. He stood for the few seconds
the machine took, expecting to feel a hand on his shoulder any
second.

The machine was designed to
inject the right arm with serum. The rebels normally coated their
right forearms with a skin coloured sack that gave the impression
they had received their usual dose. It wasn’t an ideal solution,
but a combination of luck and general apathy among the thralls had
worked in their favour until now. Anticipating that the last attack
would elicit some sort of check on that arm, they had switched the
packs to the left instead. Aligning the left arm was quite awkward
and, if they survived today’s check, they would have to come up
with another plan from now on.

The pressure relaxed and Harris
felt relief flood through him. He withdrew his arm, resisting the
impulse to pull his arm out quickly, and started for the exit in
the slow, awkward gait that typified the others around him. His
heart thumped as he passed the first thrall and he suppressed the
urge to pick up the pace. He could see the door ahead but the queue
ahead of him seemed to move so slowly that it seemed it would take
him hours to get outside. He began to take shorter breaths as he
tried to calm himself but his heart thumped faster. He forced
himself to look down at the ground and not at the thralls in case
this attracted their attention but this meant that he would have no
warning of their intentions if they came towards him. He …

Suddenly a hand gripped his
shoulder and two other thralls began to move ahead of him to block
his path. He tried to keep his face expressionless but he could
feel his mouth twitch as adrenaline flooded through him. Should he
run? He might even make it if he acted before the thralls were
fully ready for him. There were another two thralls at the door so
he would have to get past them as well and then somehow lose
himself in the crowd.

The thralls were not only
stronger than humans; they were faster as well so running wasn’t
really an option. But he couldn’t just let them take him either.
His mind filled with horrendous images of what they would do to him
to get to the others. There would be no human rights observed and
there was no way he would be able to hold out for long. Better to
die trying to escape that give them the pleasure of torturing him.
Outwardly he remained calm, but, in contrast, his mind frantically
weighed his limited options. Decided on his course of action,
Harris felt a calm suddenly wash over him and he prepared to run.
The thrall on his right moved much quicker than he had expected and
grabbed his left arm. Harris froze for a second instead of
immediately pulling his arm away and that moment of indecision
saved his life. A commotion suddenly broke out to his right and the
thrall holding his arm was distracted as he looked beyond Harris
towards the noise.

Harris couldn’t see clearly and
dared not move his head but he could see a commotion of some sort.
Suddenly he saw a man brake from the queue. In his haste to get to
the exit he knocked two thralls over who bellowed in outrage as
they struggled back to their feet. Shouts and obscenities filled
the small room and thralls seemed to come from everywhere at once
to give chase. Harris nearly fainted with relief when the two
guards who had stopped him turned and disappeared after the
fugitive. Shots rang out and Harris cringed with every retort.
Bullets flew after the man, but somehow the first volley missed
him, tearing chunks out of the wall and ceiling instead. Harris
watched as the man reached the door, and he willed him on. For a
minute it looked like he might actually make it, but then one of
the thralls shouted in triumph.

The man jerked as a bullet
ripped into his left shoulder. The force of the impact spun the man
around and sent him sprawling to the floor and Harris saw his face
for the first time. Powell! He thought. My God he’s only twenty
years old.

The thralls were on him in a
second. They kicked and punched Powell viciously until finally he
lay still and unmoving. Harris boiled inside, but had no choice but
to continue his forward shuffle. He passed the thralls while they
congratulated themselves and was sorely tempted to forget the
pretence and run screaming into the middle of the group, tearing
and punching his rage at these vile creatures.

He ached to lash out and deliver
some of the same punishment to these inhuman monsters, but the
worthless gesture would only get him killed and dishonour Powell’s
sacrifice. Harris forced himself to look straight ahead and finally
reached the door. He exited and felt the sun on his face. For a
moment it felt like he had just walked from the bowels of Hell into
the cleansing rays of Heaven and he drew in a deep breath and
exhaled it slowly. God, that was far too close.

He continued walking, forcing
himself to remain calm and keep his motion slow and relaxed, it was
still possible that the thralls could come after him. Finally, he
reached a small alley about two blocks from the clinic. He took his
time to cautiously look around before he slipped out of sight. Once
in the alley, his knees wobbled and he slumped against the wall.
Harris retched and his body convulsed with the relief and
frustration of the last hour.

“Oh my God,” he muttered as he
grabbed at the wall to steady himself.

He lost track of time as he let
his body slowly recover. His heart eventually stopped hammering,
his legs were finally able to support him without holding onto the
wall and he slowly began to recover from the rush of adrenaline
that had soaked his system.

Finally he pushed himself away
from the wall and raised his sleeve. He peeled the flesh-coloured
pack off his arm and smiled grimly at the extra weight. He ripped a
hole in the pack and watched the serum drain out and pool on the
ground. After he finished he replaced the pack and left the
alley.

Chapter 4

“We’re not ready!” Dan
Harrington shouted. He slapped his hand on the table to emphasize
the point.

“We’ll never be ready at this
rate,” answered Harris. He rose from his chair and glared into
Harrington’s eyes. “We lost Powell today and damn near four others
at the clinic. Once they examine Powell you can be sure those
bloodsuckers will figure out how we’re getting around the serum’s
effect.” Harris sat back down wearily. “If we wait any longer,
it’ll be too late.”

He looked around at the other
members of the committee. Twelve people, seven men and five women,
sat around a small table that occupied at least half the storeroom
they used for their meetings. The group met once a week in an
abandoned warehouse by the waterfront. The intention of these
meetings was ostensibly to discuss survival strategies, though
Harris was beginning to realise that the meetings had more to do
with lonely, scared people wanting to be with others than any grand
plan.