Outside Hell (33 page)

Then he fell over and disappeared from view
beneath the line of the window and made strange gurgling
sounds.

The other nine soldiers who were with him
then spun around with their MP5 submachine guns, and lit up the
trees all around them with extremely heavy firepower. Time froze
for John inside the chopper, as all he could see outside was the
bright flash from their weapons as hundreds of bullets blasted into
the forest.

The sound inside the soundproofed cab was
tremendous and the radio that was still playing the Vatican’s
relaxing music, suddenly sounded like it had the background effects
of machine guns added into it.

When the firing had stopped, the soldiers
crouched down and still pointing their weapons ahead of them, one
of them using his shoulder radio then called back to base for
support.

Crackles and pops came back across the radio
after the soldier had screamed into it then silence, and after a
second then John heard a deep voice in their language screaming
something back at them.

The soldier tried to answer but as he’d
pressed the speak button in on the radio, his back tensed as an
arrow smashed its way through his forehead so hard and fast that it
roared through his brain and burst out the other side. Instantly
the soldier collapsed backwards and then fell down into the snow
with blood spraying everywhere, turning the sunlit and glorious
white snow all around him into a pinkie colour.

The remaining soldiers after slamming in a
new magazines on their submachine guns, then again lit up the
forest with heavy firepower as they’d edged backwards taking cover
alongside the chopper.

The bullets streamed into the forest with a
deafening sound and ripped hand sized chunks of bark from the
frozen trees in front of them.

By the time that they’d stopped firing most
of them were sheltering behind the chopper, and from the radio that
was laying in the snow inches away from the dead soldier, John
could hear the same stern voice that he’d heard moments before. It
was screaming something at them, but no one dared pick it up to
reply.

Back at the base heavily armed soldiers ran
outside the hanger and piled into two choppers that already were
spooling up their massive four rotor heads readying themselves for
take off.

Suddenly from the tree line John saw Dracus
appear. He’d walked forwards towards the chopper holding up a
shield about the size of a dustbin lid. The thing had strange
markings over it like embossed patterns that were standing proud
from the green Amarek steel beneath it.

The soldiers saw him coming and sprayed him
with automatic gunfire only the bowman from Eldor kept walking
forwards, and the bullets as they’d flew at him seemed to have no
effect. There was some strange energy all around the shield that
slightly blurred him from view, and as the bullets hit it, they’d
simply disappeared into it.

John found himself glued to the window, and
completely oblivious to the fact that the choir from the speakers
above him were now singing again, in their mellifluous tones.

The soldiers realising that their weapons had
no effect then lowered their barrels as he’d approached to with a
few feet from them.

Then standing there Dracus spoke to them in
the same foreign language that they were accustomed to, and asked
them if they would fight hand to hand against one of his warriors.
He said his warrior was in the bushes but that he wouldn’t be using
weapons and they could.

In response they’d looked at each other and
then as they’d reached down for their deadly sharp combat knives,
and with a grin passing their faces, they’d nodded.

Then messaging Claudius and Laouse and from
the tree line behind to say that they’d agreed, a second passed and
through the sub zero air there was a feint cracking sound of
branches, followed by the silhouette of Laouse approaching from the
dark forest. Then as he’d stepped out into the brightly lit area
with snow up to his waist, the soldiers pulled out their massive
knives ready for the fight, but Laouse ignored them and walked
around the side of the chopper grinning.

Once there he’d unlocked it and climbed in
and seated himself on the lush leather seat inside the cockpit.
Then after closing the airtight door, he’d flicked the switches
above his head and the huge rotors began to slowly turn.

The soldiers looked at each other confused
because they’d thought they were fighting him.

Then from the woods they’d heard a second
noise and in response when they’d seen something eight foot tall in
bear furs stepping out, they’d tightened their grips on the nine
inch silver blades that were in their hands and prepared the battle
that ensued.

Inside even though they were used to killing
humans through the war by either shooting them or simply gassing
them because of their beliefs, this was different. They’d
unbelievable fighting skills too and were fully trained in deadly
hand-to-hand combat, and could each take down five soldiers from
the SAS with ease. They were also genetically modified and twice
stronger than a normal human being due to the DD10 drug that their
scientists were giving them, but seeing Claudius and the huge
shadow that his massive frame cast across the snow as he’d picked
up speed into a frenzied charge, they’d instantly had second
thoughts.

Then as Claudius in full furs passed
alongside the chopper towards them, the ground vibrated deeply with
every step that the beast had made.

The priest spun around in leather seats as
Laouse flicked off the horrible sound coming out the speakers, and
stared out the back window in horror.

Dracus heard the choppers huge rotor blades
making their deafening roar from a far and messaged Claudius as
he’d vanished back into the woods,

“Be Quick”

As Sorchek was nearing the area on the map
that he’d kindly borrowed from the dead pilot, he’d been surrounded
by a band of forty vicious vampires that he’d contacted after
getting signal coverage on his brick sized mobile, at the base of
the hill where he’d smashed his leg.

At the time he’d been utterly exhausted and
all that was struggling to climb through his mind was the idea of a
hot bath and bed, only as his energy had come back to him and his
frozen body had thawed out from the extreme conditions that he’d
endured, he’d thought fuck the bath, because he’d wanted
revenge.

In his mind he was thinking, ‘Those fuckers
came up to the shack and smashed up the place, and then probably
destroyed it too, because as I’d shot off on the snow mobile, I
definitely heard a massive explosion coming from the hills behind
me. They also shot my bikini babe’s with that weird shit that
drugged them, so I bet they’re still alive in their base. After I
rescue the chicks, I’ll build a new shack and they’ll love me so
much for it that they’ll pleasure me for an eternity for free too.
I’m coming for you you sick fucks and when I get there, I’m gonna
kill you all.”

Sorchek had been well aware that he was in no
condition for a war, but reckoned that by the time he’d flown the
hundreds of miles to where the map was leading him in Hungary, and
with his super fast vampire healing that things would be different.
He’d believed that his agonizingly painful leg wouldn’t be that bad
by then, and as the primal rage took over and then flourished
within his veins under the wash of the moons eerie glow, that he’d
fight like a superhero and be so fast that he’d single handedly
kill them all.

Only as Sorchek with his ultra vampire vision
had looked in front of him and seen the German hanger in the
distance, and the super camouflaged snipers hiding on the cliff
face by the family of eagles with the intense military presence
beneath them, his superhero beliefs wandered, and he’d considered
retreat.

Then to justify his thoughts, he’d reasoned
that he wasn’t well. His leg was still causing him agony and as
he’d looked down at it, even though his upper body was well thawed
out, the leg looked strangely worse. He’d never seen a wound turn
black and gammy like his leg was doing, and was deeply shocked just
seeing it that way. The other evil fuckers with him hadn’t helped
either because when they’d spotted it, rather than trying to
placate his self preservational worrying thoughts, they were
telling him that he’d been touched by a portal demon and would soon
be dead, rotting in hell.

Sorchek had turned around to them after
seeing the arsenal of tanks and machine gunners on the mile square
tarmac beneath him, and said that he’d reckoned they might have to
call the attack off. Then a moment had past and through the extreme
sound of their massively beating wings as they’d plummeted down
towards the pine trees like missiles, and in response to his
comment, he’d received deeply hostile stares.

They’d used his shack in the Carpathian
Mountains to pleasure themselves, and often found themselves
parting with large amounts of cash to enjoy his vamp women’s
services in the bedrooms upstairs.

Sorchek had promised them all from his brick
sized mobile that if they’d come with him to Hungary to help him
get revenge, when they’d got there everyone would get large amounts
of riches to placate their financially drowned pockets of past. So
hearing Sorchek suggesting retreat, and that the very notion of the
idea would simply mean that after flying hundreds of miles through
blizzards that they’d be going back empty handed, they’d snarled
and refused.

The band of forty vampires with him didn’t
want retreat; they’d wanted the satisfaction of killing hundreds of
humans, and tasting their thick warm crimson blood as it poured
down their necks. They’d wanted to see their preys chests ripped
open squirting fine red mist into the air, and to be able to reach
down and then pull out their intestines before their death rattles
finally consumed them. These vicious vampires were here to fight
and wanted their victims screaming from deep terror, and the
battlefield full of extreme blood soaked gore.

The hundreds of soldiers beneath them would
be nothing for them. They’d land and then walk out onto the tarmac
from the tree line with the dark shadows running between them, and
then the soldiers would hear them and look up with urine flowing
down their legs at the sight before them. In response they’d lock
and load their pathetic machine guns full of lead and then
believing for a second that they were going to win, open fire at
them. The soldiers would waste thousands of rounds until they’d
finally realized that their lead bullets were useless, and then
whilst piss was spraying out of their trouser legs into deep
puddles, they’d leave their guns and try to flee into the arctic
breeze. That would be the moment that they’d only have seconds more
to swallow down their last few gulps of air, whilst lambs to the
slaughter all of them would die a vicious, and extremely pain
filled death.

When Sorchek had rung his evil bastards
asking for their help on his devilishly big mobile phone, he hadn’t
told them that he’d seen the soldiers shooting his bikini chicks
with strange bullets that had made them drop though. He’d feared
that if he had, then they mightn’t have then been so easily
persuaded to join him on the mission. Now though seeing so many
soldiers with obviously advanced weaponry, and also realizing that
he couldn’t persuade his vampires to call it off without telling
them that he knew about the bullets, which he wasn’t prepared to do
because they’d kill him for it, and sensing that any second they
were going to charge the soldiers, he’d realized that soon his
eternal life could be ending.

Thinking quick as they’d ended their descent
and finally crashed down through the deeply snow covered pine trees
on the edge of the military installation, and with beads of
perspiration flowing through him in his heightened state of panic,
Sorchek tried a different angle. He’d told them that he’d just seen
silver bullets reflecting the moonlight from above being loaded
into a machine gun by the main door of the place, and reckoned that
they’d better think of another way to attack.

Ingrained into their very being no vampire
ever wanted to risk their eternal life being revoked, and they all
knew that silver bullets would do it too.

Through the thousands of
years that they’d lived and all the battles pre the
14
^th
century that they’d been in, they’d never had to worry about
the possibility of death as no one could kill them. The swords that
were used were nothing more than mere steel and they could take
several of them being rammed through their chests whilst just
standing there watching their attackers. Then with evil grins
they’d slide them back out of their gaping wound whilst
occasionally and just for the humorous effect, then drop to their
knees and pretend that they were dying, before leaping back up and
then ripping out their throats with their razor sharp and deeply
ominous black fingernails.

Only two things killed vampires outside of
what also scared the shit out of them, that being holy water,
crosses, werewolves, and the murderously oppressive sun.

One of these things was having their head
chopped off by any weapon regardless of it was fabricated in steel
or silver, and the other was just the damn silver itself. They
couldn’t touch even the smallest fragment of it like even a ring or
a pendant without severe burns, and as the years past through the
dark ages and the humans had learnt about their weakness for it,
they’d forged new weapons in the stuff to kill vampires with. Then
afterwards if they’d ever felt the bite from a silver blade as they
were attacking their prey, if it was a small nick in their flesh
they’d either bleed for days suffering the most intense pain but
survive, or the wound wouldn’t heal at all and then they’d suffer
the same excruciating pain, but the infection would tear through
them and finally kill them. If they’d been impaled upon the weapon
though, things were vastly different and resulted in instant
agonizing death.