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his men to
take each side of the blasted entrance while he entered, weapon
aimed and ready. The corridor was clear and he moved further in. He
heard a muttered curse as his men followed him and saw the bodies
strewn along the corridor. The bodies were women and children
mostly and blood splattered the walls like a charnel house from a
horror movie. It was the eyes though that really got to him. There
had been no peace in their passing. They had died in terror, their
mouths open in eternal silent screams and their hands curled into
claws.
    The sound of gunfire erupted further down
the corridor and they could hear more screams.
    “Fucking bastards,” he heard Jones whisper
as the man hurried forward. Cabreezi grabbed at his shoulder and
held him in place.
    “We take it slow and steady. Remember your
training.”
    Jones glared at him for a moment. There were
tears falling down his cheeks and, for a second, Cabreezi thought
the man would shoot him, but the moment finally passed.
    “We’re no good to them dead, soldier,” he
said. Cabreezi could sympathise. Jones had a wife and child down
there somewhere. “We’ll go as fast as we can. We’ll get to them,
Jones.” Gunfire erupted again and Jones blinked once and he was
gone.
    “Shit,” Cabreezi cursed as he watched Jones
disappear down the corridor. “Double time, Fowler. Let’s try and
keep the stupid bastard alive.
     
    * * *
     
    “Get down you idiot”, Delilah screamed at
him. “There are too many of them for that hero bullshit.” Jackson
glared at her, but she had already turned her back on him and was
firing out into the darkness, ducking and then firing again.
Jackson’s leg still hurt from where she had struck him as well as
from his awkward landing. Though, it was his pride that hurt
most.
    He shuffled over to the edge of the dugout
and eased his hip into a small hollow to give himself some
leverage. Bullets slammed into the dirt in front and behind him,
their high-pitched whistles were like bees buzzing. He checked his
weapon for ammunition and to ensure the barrel was clear after his
fall. Seeing all was well, he eased his head above the edge of the
dugout and tried to see where the enemy were located.
    The thralls were enhanced, not anywhere near
the speed of a true vampire, but way faster than humans. He saw
shadows slide through the darkness like oil through water. As soon
as he brought the barrel to bear the shadow was already gone. He
heard Delilah curse as she pumped round after round into the
darkness without result. He saw a flash as one of the thralls
fired. Jesus, he thought, they’re closer than I
realized. He heard a cry of pain to his left as one of the
defenders was hit and he fired immediately but the figure had
already melted away.
    This was impossible, they were too damn
fast. The fires behind them had burned out and it was like someone
had drawn a blanket over the scene in front of him. The darkness
was filled with looming shapes from the ruins of buildings and the
rain continued to fall, stinging his eyes and shielding the
thralls’ movements. He saw another movement and whipped towards it,
already firing before he had lined up correctly. He held his finger
on the trigger and the machine gun bucked in his hands. His injured
leg did not allow him to shift easily so he had to lean further out
of his position to get the right angle and, before he knew it, he
was half out of his point. Suddenly the gun clicked empty. The
sound seemed overly loud to him somehow and then the dirt around
him began to erupt. It took him a moment to realise what was
happening but by then it was too late. Something hit him hard.
    He heard a scream and saw Delilah move
towards him, but she was picked up in mid leap and thrown the other
way. She didn’t scream or cry out. It all happened so fast. She
seemed to be already limp before she landed in the dugout. He tried
to reach for her, but something else slammed into him and pain
flared in his side. He fell on