Vampire Apocalypse: A World Torn Asunder (Book 1) (22 page)

He looked over at his daughter
and sighed. They had initially stayed in touch with Pamela by phone
but, as the war worsened, utilities were disrupted and they had
lost contact. They still had no idea whether Pamela was alive or
dead and Harrington still felt terribly guilty that Pamela had had
to face the crisis on her own.

However, he and Sandra had
become very close in the last few months. Sure, sparks still flew
and each of them still had much to learn about the other, but he
really did feel that he was becoming a father again, albeit a
little late. He shook himself from the past and looked around the
table before he continued.

“However, I needed you all here
because, quite frankly, I don’t know where we can go from
here.”

A low murmur rippled around the
table and people looked at each other quizzically.

“Don’t get me wrong - the haul
we got from the raid was fantastic. But the cost was just too high
and that was with the element of surprise. Any further assaults
that we might have to make will be expected now they know there is
a sizeable force in hiding. The food we have now will last us six
months with rationing, but what do we do then?”

He paused to let his words sink
in. His glance roamed around the table, pausing briefly at each
committee member.

“We must increase the size of
this community, and that means more and more forays into vampire
territory. Up till now the thralls have been complacent and
unwilling to mobilise on any large scale because, let’s face it, we
really didn’t rate the effort. That will have changed after our
last raid. We made fools of them and the vampires will probably
cull the whole top level of their command structure in retaliation.
That will also make the new commanders very fucking anxious to
please. We’ve already seen an increase in patrols and I feel that
this level of activity will remain for the long term.”

“Peter,” he said and turned his
attention to Harris. “It’s good to see you up and around, legally,
that is.” There was a gentle ripple of laughter and Harris shifted
uncomfortably in his wheelchair. The chair had been Sandra’s idea
and had been non-negotiable. Most of the facility had heard of his
walkabout from the infirmary and subsequent capture. “Maybe you
could fill us in on your end of things.”

“As you know,” Harris began, “we
had three objectives for the assault. Food and medicine were
completed successfully, but Nero anticipated us. We had hoped to
confuse things for a while by removing their command figure, but
he’s cleverer than that. I can’t help thinking we tried to do too
much and that I…”

“You can stop right there,”
Harrington interrupted. Sandra had come to him before their
argument, worried at Harris’ss mood. She felt that he placed far
too much blame on himself for the recent deaths and had asked her
father to talk to him. Harrington could see from the anguish on
Harris’ss face that she had been right to worry. He felt bad that
he had not noticed the young man’s anguish sooner.

“You can’t put any of what
happened on your own shoulders. In fact, from what I’ve heard, you
did more than anyone could expect of one person. There aren’t many
men I know who would attack a goddamn tank single-handed.”

He heard Sandra gasp and cursed
himself when he realised that Harris had obviously edited that part
from the story when he had told her of the assault. He saw her
glare at Harris with a look that would melt iron. Harrington knew
that Harris would be in big trouble when she got him back to the
infirmary and quickly continued in the hope that he might be able
to distract her.

“We decided on the plan as a
group,” Harrington continued, “and right or wrong, we pick up the
pieces as a group.”

Harris merely nodded and
continued to stare at the floor.

“Son,” he continued in a softer
tone, “this is a war and, no matter how much we try to prevent it,
people will die. You can’t take responsibility for everyone.”

Harrington saw Harris raise his
head and look deep into his eyes before he nodded, more
emphatically this time.

“We did get a few bonuses from
the assault,” Harris continued with renewed vigour. “Scott Anderson
brought back a full jar of the serum. He also brought back a
volunteer to help us understand how it works.” Harris grinned as he
said this. People smiled along with him, relieved to see the mood
lighten.

“We also picked up a few
stragglers who will be weaned off the serum’s effects over the next
few days. These were mostly women we found in the thralls'
quarters.” A scowl suddenly darkened Harris’ss face as he
remembered how the women had been mistreated but he pushed these
thoughts away as he continued. “I think we got twelve in total, no,
fourteen if you include Phil’s family.”

“How is Warkowski?”

“Not good, but, somehow, he’s
still breathing. We haven’t sent out any patrols since we got back,
but I plan to send three two-man teams out tomorrow to see the lay
of the land. That’s about it for now.”

“Thank you, Peter.” Harrington
looked next at Pat Smith. “Pat, I believe you’ve been busy. Perhaps
you can fill us in.”

“Yes, as I explained to Peter
the other day, I have come up with a compound that could be
effective against the vampires.” His enthusiastic beam was so
contagious that many people found themselves grinning along with
him.

“Could be?” Vince Crockett’s
question, his scowl, and deep baritone voice acted like a splash of
cold water and the jovial mood disappeared.

“Yes, well, what I mean is that
by the time I developed this particular batch, the vampires” blood
we used had already begun to decompose. I can’t be absolutely
certain that the compound was the only factor which destroyed the
cells.” Smith was totally unprepared for this sort of questioning.
He believed that the lab results alone were reason for celebration
and he fumbled his way through the rest of the presentation. “But
the theory is sound and the signs are good,” he finished and looked
nervously around the table.

“I hope you don’t expect us to
send out our men on that basis, Mr. Smith,” Crockett scowled. “Or
maybe you are prepared to go out with them.”

“Settle down, Vince,” Harrington
interrupted. “Pat can’t help it if the blood decomposed before he
could finish testing, although you do have a point. We’ll have to
shelve the testing of the ammunition until we can do it in a
controlled environment.”

“What!” he saw Harris nearly
launch himself out of his wheelchair, but a combination of pain and
Sandra’s firm hand held him in place.

“This could be the very weapon
we need to turn the tide on this nightmare. You were right before,
those bastards are lethal, their speed and strength are
frightening, and anything that kills them at a distance is a
Godsend.”

“That’s the problem, Peter,” he
continued, “it could be the weapon we need, but we just don’t know
for certain. We can’t send men out on the off chance that it will
work. For now we need to concentrate on other things.”

Harris slumped back in his
chair. The toll of the exertion had hit him hard. “Let’s at least
equip the patrols with the ammunition,” Harris suggested his voice
barely audible. “That way if they encounter trouble it may help. It
certainly can’t harm them.”

Harrington glanced at Crockett
and received a nod. “Okay, that’s reasonable. Pat, will you ensure
that Vince receives a supply of the ammunition for the
patrols?”

“Yes, of course,” Smith replied,
indignant that the question had to be asked at all.

“Good, that’s settled. Any other
business, Pat?”

“Well,” Smith continued with
less enthusiasm than before. “Scott Anderson came back with a jar
of the serum the thralls use to keep the populace in line and I’ve
been studying it. The results, I’m afraid, are quite worrying. Now,
I must remind you all that I am far from an expert in this field
but I do have a good grounding in drugs. The mix the vampires use
is particularly strong, as we all can testify, but it’s the mix
itself that concerns me.”

Smith paused to take a drink of
water. “The drugs used combine two different areas in medical
science. The drug controlling the physical motor responses and the
one inhibiting the mental commands from the synapses in the brain
are counterproductive.”

Harrington frowned.

“Let me explain. Before the
vampires came these drugs were widely used for different ailments.
Violent mental patients needed high doses of some of these drugs to
prevent them from harming themselves or others. As a result, they
needed constant care because, with such high doses, they would be
unable to function themselves. On the other hand, a patient
suffering from depression would need to be able to move about
freely and function relatively normally in their day-to-day life
while still gaining a benefit from the drugs that targeted their
depression. The vampires needed elements of both of these drugs,
but there wasn’t one drug that fit the bill, so they combined
them.”

“Go on,” Harrington urged.

“You see, these drugs were never
meant to be used together because they work against each other in
the brain. One allows freedom of movement, but not of thought; the
other promotes the opposite. To combine these drugs, one would have
to experiment for a long time to get the balance right, and
responses would vary for each person. The vampires obviously didn’t
have the time or the inclination to worry about this, so they made
up a batch and tested it. The dose they decided on is of a much
higher strength than is actually needed and, because of this, is
actually harmful to the people taking it.”

“How harmful?” Crockett asked
leaning forward.

“It’s eventually fatal, I’m
afraid.”

There was an audible intake of
breath around the table before a number of people started to shout
questions. Harrington could see that Smith was unable to cope with
the volume or the desperation of the questioners, so he slammed his
hand on the table to bring order to the proceedings.

“Is there a time frame for this
kind of damage?” he asked when the noise had quieted
sufficiently.

Smith caught the question as one
would a lifeline. “Yes, there is. Now you must understand that this
will be different for everyone--”

“Pat, just tell us,” Harrington
prompted.

“About 2 years.”

A gasp rippled around the
table.

“I believe that problems will
occur in children first because their brains are less developed.
Then we will see older people begin to have problems.”

“What kind of problems are we
talking about here, Pat,” Harris asked and Smyth pursed his lips as
he considered how best to answer the question.

“It won’t be easy on them if
that is what you are asking. They will develop severe headaches at
first,” Pat replied but kept his eyes firmly focused on the table
in front of him. “A short time later, they will begin to bleed from
the ears and nose. Their eyes will become bloodshot and burn like
fire. The drugs will eventually corrode the brain, almost like an
acid and it will take at least a week to die. It would almost be a
kindness to kill them from the time the headaches begin.”

“But it’s been nearly two years
since the vampires took over,” Crockett said unnecessarily.

“Yes, for some it has most
probably already started.”

Chapter 22

The figure hunkered down and
scooped up black ash from the ground. He glanced around the square
and absently let it pass through his fingers. Dusk was approaching
fast and shadows were lengthening around the burnt and broken
buildings. The burnt out husk of a helicopter lay buried in the
side of an abandoned building to the far west of the square, its
tail rotor sticking straight up into the air as if proclaiming
defiance. The figure smiled at the destruction around him. His eyes
moved constantly, their dull grey colour perfectly complimenting
both his personality and name.

“Steele.”

The figure turned in answer and
watched Nero approach across the devastated square.

“Up a bit early, aren’t you?”
Steele indicated the fading light from the sun and smiled at the
vampire, though there was no humour in his eyes.

“After the centuries I’ve
lived,” the vampire replied, “I’ve developed immunity to all but
strong, direct light.”

“Looks like quite a party you
had here, Nero,” Steele commented.

“Do not mistake my patronage for
familiarity, human.” Nero sneered, his voice undercut with a hard
edge. “We have been made fools of and I do not care for such
flippancy. I have brought you here because you have proved
successful in the past. Your continued existence is wholly
dependent on that continuing success.”

Steele looked hard at the
Vampire Lord and betrayed neither remorse nor fear. He hadn’t
survived the last two years by giving into these creatures, but he
did have to be careful not to go too far. From the beginning he had
proven himself more valuable to his masters when in control of his
senses than as a helpless zombie. Steele had recognised the signs
of defeat early on in the war and began to make plans to ensure his
survival in the aftermath.

Steele was most comfortable when
he was alone. Relationships had always been hard for him. An
abusive father and alcoholic mother certainly hadn’t helped, and he
had finally run away at thirteen leaving them to their shouting and
violence. He also left his little sister, Catriona, and though he
did feel some remorse for this, he also knew that his father would
never hurt her like he did him. He wasn’t a pervert, just a mean
bastard who took all the rotten things that had happened in his
life out on his son.

He had lived on the streets at
first, drifting from one end of the country to the other, sometimes
working, sometimes stealing what he needed to survive. Five years
he had wandered aimlessly, getting involved in more serious crimes
as he got older and made contacts in the more lucrative, but shady,
end of the market. For the first time in his life, he had money and
soon learned that money meant power. He liked power because it
allowed him to make his own rules.