Everyone Dies in the End #75
Author's Note: Okay, as hard as it is for me to admit, this blog might not be the central focus of every single one of your lives. And, yes, the story does jump a bit. So, for those of you who are wondering which page of the post-apocalyptic hymnal we are on it is the page that says--in an America devastated by a Soviet nuclear strike, Ramzke, the vampire, and Cindy (his teleporting captive, in search of her boyfriend, Eddie) have just arrived at the Philadelphia, to meet Ramzke's boss--a creepy dude who conceals his identity behind a Darth Vader mask. Susan, the witch (white witch if you believe in the color thing), has stumbled to the same location in hopes of doing something, something good, to avenge the death of her friends, Todd and Arty. Katarina, a bad-ass vampire, in the mold of Underworld's Selene (you met her in World at War: Revelation, didn't you? If not buy a couple of copies of the book today at ...just saying), has pledged to help free Ramzke's (her brother) coven from the bad guy in the Vader mask, and has brought along Zak, an army officer, and close friend/would-be romantic interest of Cindy. All these characters are converging on a geographical and chronological point. A point where Everyone Dies in the End. Maybe.
It's sorta complicated.
Ramzke
He was sore. Two nights of travel in a stiffly sprung truck, with nothing but a wooden bench for comfort, did that to a body. Even to a 400-year old body. Especially a 400-year old body, thought Ramzke.
He stood and stretched, listening as his joints softly popped. The girl, Cindy, regarded him without expression. From the cab Ramzke heard the ratcheting as the driver engaged the parking brake, and then the engine shut down with a cough. They were home. If a prison can ever be called a home.
At the end of the alley, the throng of humanity jostled by smelly and eager. Once again it was trial night, and the humans, the very judgmental humans, were swarming to the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul, to watch the sex and violence that were the keystones of Vader’s justice.
“This is it?”
The woman’s voice pulled his attention from the crowd. Outside the cab doors slammed shut.
“Yes, this is it.” He gestured toward the rear of the truck bed. “After you.”
She disappeared, reappearing in a flash outside of the truck. He keep his face impassive, and leapt to the ground, joining her and the two guards, both of which kept a wary distance from them. The woman gawked at the crowd thrumming past the end of the alley.
“What is this?” she asked without turning to him. “The lights, the crowd, the craziness. It’s almost pre-war, but different.”
“Yeah, but different.” He grabbed her elbow and guided her toward the door at the rear of the cathedral.
Cindy
She turned, following the vampire’s direction. The crowd had been amazing. So many people and lights…she hadn’t seen a lit city since the missiles came. She wondered if Eddie were somewhere in that crowd. She worried if Zak was dead. She worried about worrying about two men. And she laughed.
“This is funny?” asked the vampire, Ramzke.
She shrugged. “It’s as funny as anything else that’s happened the last three months. It’s as funny as you’ll look with a stake sticking through your chest.” The guards, trailing a couple of paces behind, guffawed. Ramzke silenced them with a chilling stare.
“As if you’ll ever see that,” he answered and reached for the door, a sturdy wooden affair, sunk in the stone wall of the church, palely illuminated by a single light bulb. The door swung out silently, Ramzke gestured the two guards through. They exchanged a glance, shrugged and ducked through the door. Cindy made to follow, but Ramzke held her back and leaned close.
“I’ve lived many years; some of those years in the place your kind calls the Mid-East.” The vampire hesitated. At the end of the alley, a woman shrieked and a man laughed.
Cindy stared at the face. Unremarkable, the dark hair falling over the eyes, dark eyes. The smell of his leather jacket was rich in her nostrils. “And I care about your history because?”
He looked quickly at the alley entrance, then back to her. “Because there, in your Mid-East, the Arabs have a saying.”
“I’m listening,” Cindy answered.
“They say, the enemy of your enemy is your friend.”
Katarina
She wasn’t a fan of wanton violence, but then again she didn’t have a problem with it either. She shredded the whiner in the soldier’s cell to prove a point. Mess with me and you’ll die. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t killed both the whiner and the soldier. At least that is what she told herself. Deep inside, deeper than the vampire who was willing to blow off a man’s head just to prove a point, she knew why. It was the uniform. It reminded her of another uniform, another country, another man, other feelings, feelings she wasn’t comfortable with.
The shotgun blast brought another pair of guards. Running down the steps they came. Bad news for the guards, not Katarina. Creeping down the steps, gun to their shoulders and sighted, would have been much better for the pair, but Katarina guessed tactics weren’t the men’s strong suit. She fired the just-jacked shotgun shell at the pair. The guy in front blew apart, his black assault rifle clacking to the tile floor. His death saved the other, for a beat of his heart, maybe two. The shell in the second barrel shredded him in a manner satisfyingly similar to the first. Lots of blood. Might have been distracting if she hadn’t just fed.
Soldier boy picked up the assault rifle, wiped the blood on his pants and checked the action. “Jeez, safety’s still on.”
Kat shrugged, “Darwin
This guy might prove useful after all, thought Kat.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He stood, flicking a piece of something fleshy off a dully-gleaming magazine. “Zak.”
Katarina reloaded the shotgun. “Well, Zak.” She pointed with the barrel up the steps. “Lead on.”
He laughed. “You afraid?”
“As a fat man once said, ‘Sure, I’m afraid of a lot of things, but most of them are dead now.’” Again she pointed up the stairs. “You first.”
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