Vampire Apocalypse: Fallout (Book 3) (5 page)

The whole situation was poised
to blow. Added to Von Kruger’s troubles were the further problems
of a severely depleted food source and an army which was no longer
under his control. In all, Von Kruger now found himself vulnerable
from those of his kind manoeuvring around him and from within by
the very forces he once controlled.

While Carter was happy to see
that his rival was distracted he still had problems of his own to
contend with. On top of everything else he had heard recently that
the rebels who had rescued the human prisoners three months ago had
not been idle either while he and Von Kruger had been busy. His own
attention had been focused on consolidating his position and this
had meant either welcoming new forces into his growing army or
subduing by force those who did not join him. This had left many of
the human prisoners relatively unguarded as his campaign had pulled
every available thrall to either guard the borders or bolster his
conquering armies.

He had decided at an early stage
in his new position that he would have to deal with the vampires at
some point and, to do this, he had to have leverage. The only thing
he had that they really needed was live humans, so he had continued
to keep the humans guarded throughout his campaign. This had been a
drain on his forces as he had required most of his new army to
bully those communities who resisted him and he had only been able
to spare small numbers of guards to protect his precious
resources.

Many of his human prisoners had
simply gone missing over the last few weeks. It had been
surprisingly small numbers at first and had not worried him unduly,
but it had begun to grow of late. In many cases the guards had not
even seen the thieves. They had simply guarded through the night
but, come breakfast time, had noticed that a number of their
charges were no longer in the pens. No shots had been fired and no
thralls had been killed. Carter suspected that the thrall guards
had been taking shelter from the still freezing weather and had
been less than honest in their reports of patrolling all through
the night.

An urban legend had begun to
form around this band of rebels; he had heard whispered stories
that they could spirit away prisoners at will, that they controlled
the mist itself and that they could simply disappear at will. After
all, if vampires could exist, why not humans with special powers?
Cater had been forced to make an example of the last thralls who
had lost their prisoners or face a situation which would have left
him without his bargaining chips. He had ordered the thralls
stripped and left staked near a neighbouring vampire stronghold.
Their screams had filled the night almost till the next dawn and
the stories of the hideously torn thrall bodies that were revealed
the next morning were enough to ensure that guard duty was again
taken very seriously.

The humans did not, of course,
stop their daring rescues, but the last time he had lost any human
prisoners, he had also lost every thrall guarding them. While he
did not like losing thralls, he was somewhat pleased that his
forces were now prepared to die rather than report further prisoner
losses. However, he had to do something about those blasted
humans.

He had already sent three envoys
to Von Kruger to arrange a meeting where they could agree terms and
maybe help each other to address the growing problem of the humans.
Unfortunately, each one of his ambassadors had been slaughtered and
their bodies had been dropped by passing vampire patrols in the
night.

For his part, now that he
controlled as much territory as he thought he could handle, he had
sent his forces out to discover where the Vampires had set up their
new lairs. Vampires were creatures of habit and still considered
themselves far superior to their former slaves. To this end, their
resting places had been relatively easy to find and Carter had
ordered three vampires beheaded and returned to Von Kruger in
retaliation for his three envoys.

Von Kruger had not replied as
yet to this latest show of strength, but he would, and soon. Either
there would be a slaughter, or, more likely, a compromise. Neither
vampire nor thrall could survive against the forces surrounding
them unless they worked together. However, if he couldn’t supply
Von Kruger with a guaranteed food source and protection during the
day from the human rebels, then the vampires would be forced to
attack Carter and his thralls for the food that they needed. And
that would not be beneficial for anyone. He had to nullify this
rebel threat before it threatened his new empire. The question was
how?

He knew that they must be coming
in from the East but his patrols had been run ragged over the last
two weeks as they followed tracks that led nowhere. Someone in this
human group knew how to track and to lay false trails, and it was
driving his men mad. He even had one situation where two of his own
patrols had opened fire on each other thinking the other force to
be the force they were tracking. It wasn’t good for morale,
either.

His men knew that there was an
uneasy peace with the vampires but that no agreement had yet been
reached, so they constantly scanned the skies in the night as if
expecting death to rain on them all for their daring to declare
independence. He might rule now but it was a precarious position
that could lead to his own death if he couldn’t show his own forces
that he was capable of securing all of their futures. Added to this
threat was the fact that prisoners were still disappearing
regularly, as if by magic, and it was making his men very
nervous.

Carter finished his beer and
pondered his next move. He wondered idly why the vampires did not
simply find the human rebels now that they knew of their existence,
but could not come up with any answer to that one either. He
shrugged and called for his aide. He had the beginnings of a plan
in the back of his mind but he was too tense. He had seen a
particularly pretty female in the holding cages on his way in and
she would provide some much needed entertainment before he had to
get back to work.

Chapter 3

Jake Warren strode over to the
consol and cursed. That was the second time today that the core had
registered a temperature spike and he was damned if he knew what
was causing it. Atkins would have known, of course, but the thralls
had grown tired of his repeated demands for more workers at the
plant and he had been thrown back into the pens to join the line of
serum-induced zombies and wouldn’t be passing on any of his vast
knowledge anymore.
Damn him
, Warren cursed as he flicked the
switch up and down and prayed for the temperature to go down again.
Warren had no idea what he was doing but this had seemed to work
the last time. He sweated heavily as he waited for the needle to
move away from the red markings on the gauge.

“What is it?” the thrall on duty
asked from across the room and Warren prayed the bastard would stay
where he was and not come over to investigate.

“Nothing,” he lied and prayed
his voice didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. He knew very little
about nuclear power plants and had only managed to work here at all
because he knew computers and, as the plant had the only working
computer left in the area, it made sense that he would work there.
He had moved here before the vampires had taken over and had lied
to the human council in power at the time about his abilities to
get himself and his ten-year-old son into the state. He had assumed
that the plant would be filled with technicians who knew the plant
inside out so he had not thought that his indiscretion would harm
anyone.

Then, of course, the vampires
had taken over and many of the humans had been thrown into the pens
and had been injected with the serum. It had only been later when
the vampires had realised that they needed humans to run the plant
that they had begun to search through their prisoners for people
capable of running the systems. He had been lucky to have been
still wearing his white lab coat because the thralls had weaned him
off the serum first. When asked if he could run the plant he had,
again, lied and told them that of course he could. He had been
allowed to take his son from the pens as well and had been tasked
with finding seven other technicians capable of helping him.

This had been where he had
encountered his first problem. He hadn’t really paid attention in
his short time he had spent in the plant and did not know the
people well enough to pick them out of the huge numbers in the
pens. He had remembered Trevor Atkins, as the man had been a
virtual dynamo and always had time to pause and explain details to
the other workers, but many of the other senior managers did not
seem to be in the pens and could already be dead. He had picked as
best he could and the thralls had placed him in charge of the
plant.

He had felt guilty at first.
What right did he have to choose who lived and who died? But it
wasn’t just his own life that he had to consider. His son would not
last long in the pens, he was far too frail and his asthma had to
be controlled or he would die. He had also heard that the vampires
had a particular fondness for young children, and most had already
been drained and cast into the large burial trenches that had been
dug to the north of the plant. He had also heard terrible rumours
of forced breeding so the vampires could replenish the quickly
diminishing stocks of young flesh. He might have felt guilt but he
was also fairly certain that the vampires would kill him if he gave
them any cause to believe he was not all he had said he was. So, he
had ignored his inner recriminations, kept quiet and accepted the
position.

Atkins had been the obvious one
to run the plant and Warren had quickly told the man that he would,
of course, defer to him, but Atkins suggested they keep things as
the thralls had organised them, lest they throw any of the people
and their families back into the pens. Atkins was a genuinely nice
man who could not stomach to see anyone suffer. Atkins, too, had a
family, though no matter how much he had searched he had not been
able to find his youngest son and the loss gnawed at him
constantly. He had been delighted that he had found his wife and
two older sons, of course, but every time he passed one of the pens
his colleagues would see him searching the faces of those wretched
souls lining the wire fences in the hope of finding his youngest.
Atkins had spent most of his free time, which wasn’t much,
pestering the thralls to allow him to check the pens again and
again in the vain hope that he might have missed him before.

While Atkins was happy to
support Warren in the plant, he did, however, have a major problem
with the people Warren had chosen, none of whom were actually
capable of running a nuclear plant. The plant might be automated
but it still required a number of skilled technicians to make sure
that the myriad controls and gauges were monitored and adjusted at
the correct time to ensure the safety of the entire area. He had
tried constantly but had been unable to get the thralls to add to
the small group. The thralls were not stupid and knew how many
technicians it took to run the plant. Atkins could not insist too
strongly in case the thralls found out the truth and condemned all
of them to death. Warren suspected that it had been Atkins’ failure
to find his youngest son that had made him so desperate to save any
others he could in the pens.

He had, therefore, begun to
train those around him as best he could but had continued to pester
the guards to allow him to pick more workers from the pens whenever
he got the opportunity, claiming exhaustion and stress for the
small number of technicians for such a large plant. Atkins could
not argue that the plant needed seven people who actually knew what
they were doing and his persistence had eventually been his
downfall; the thralls had grown tired of him and had thrown him
back in the pens.

Warren had pleaded that Atkins
be allowed to come back but they had refused and he had had to
choose someone else or join him in the pens. Again Warren had had
no idea who to choose. He had been reminded of collecting
foil-wrapped cards he had bought as a child. It was a matter of
picking one and hoping the pack contained the card you wanted. He
had chosen a man he thought he had recognised and then waited
anxiously for a week while the serum was flushed from his system
and he could find out what he had. Unfortunately, the man had
turned out to be a country singer, and one of some note, as it
turned out. That was probably why he had looked familiar. But he
would not add to their knowledge base at all, unless you considered
listening to country music worthwhile.

Now he had a major problem. If
they didn’t get some people who knew what they were doing to manage
the core, then there was a real chance that the whole thing would
blow and kill them all. But he couldn’t tell the thralls that they
had made a mistake in picking the man either - he and his son would
be killed instantly for his deception, as would the other six
‘technicians’ and their families. Whether by blind luck or design,
the plant had continued to run smoothly despite Atkins’ removal,
but these temperature spikes were worrying. They hadn’t happened
while Atkins was at the plant so something had definitely
changed.

He had quietly questioned the
rest of the staff over the last few days and had found nothing to
raise his spirits. They, like him, were all technical to some
extent, just not in any way that would help keep the plant running
safely. Atkins had managed to train some of them in the more menial
tasks and they continued to do these constantly, however, none of
them actually understood what their actions actually did, only that
Atkins had told them that they were necessary to the continued
running of the plant. He watched the temperature needle withdrawing
from the red line as it began to slowly return to normal.