Chapter 51

December Twenty-fourth 11:30 p.m EST 10:30 p.m. local time

"What the fuck are we going to do now?" George asked. From the looks on the faces of Brian and the other federal agents who had followed him, Mark guessed that they all wanted an answer to that question.

"We could walk out," said one of the feds.

Theresa shook her head. "We have no idea how widespread this is. We might have to walk dozens of miles before we found safety." She made a broad sweep with her hand that took in her own children and the one's peeking out at them from the back seats of many of the other vehicles. "How far do you really think they could make it, or we could carry them, especially in the dark and rain?"

Mark had to admit that she had a point.

"Well, then," he ventured, "I guess we have two options. We can either find a place to hole up until morning, or we can hunt down the motherfuckers - excuse my french - who are in charge of the vamps and do our best to put an end to this tonight."

He was immediately reminded that he was speaking to people who had devoted their lives to law enforcement when they unanimously chose the second course of action.

Still, he had to make certain that they understood the risks and alternatives. "Vamps are, for all practical purposes, dead during the day. If we wait until morning to hunt them, we can do so without risk. If we do this at night, some of us, maybe even all of us, aren't going to make it. With an entire city to search, there's also no guarantee that we'll even be able to find the ones in charge."

The rest of the group exchanged glances before Brian spoke for them all, "I couldn't live with myself if I hid in someone's basement while others died. If there's even a chance that I can prevent that, I'm going to take it. As for the rest, we'll just have to kill every vampire we find. Eventually, we're bound to kill one in middle management. When we do, hopefully one of his subordinates can tell us what we need to know."

"Okay," Mark said with a nod. "If we're doing that, we'll need real weapons."

"I have an AK-47 in my trunk and a couple hundred rounds of ammunition," one of the feds offered.

With a another gesture toward the dead vampires in the street, Theresa added, "These guys were armed to the teeth, too. I'm sure you've already seen the shotgun locked up between the front seats. There's also two army guns and some bullets in the trunk."

Mark gave a small shake of the head. "Although not completely useless, those won't help much. We've been lucky so far and have had surprise on our side. That won't last. Bullets will put a vamp down, but it won't keep it down and we're not always going to have time to run up and pound a stake through a heart. What we need are bows and arrows. Wooden arrows. I don't suppose that any of you have any archery experience?"

Most of them looked at him in surprise before starting to laugh. At his look of confusion, one of them deigned to explain, "This is Oklahoma. For a lot of folks, archery might as well be the state sport."

With amusement, Mark noticed George's look of embarrassment at his own lack of skill. He also felt hope spring up at the statement. This might actually work. "We can't go back to your homes to get your own gear. Because you were all on the lists, I would bet that there's a good chance that there are vamps keeping an eye on the places in case you were just out visiting friends. Are there any archery stores in the area?"

"There are a number of them up on Admiral Place, but I just drove by there. There were police cars in the parking lots. There are a few others in Broken Arrow to the south, but the roads there will probably be blocked, " Brian replied.

"We could probably overwhelm them with the numbers we have now, but we'd most likely lose a few. I don't think that's really an option. Do any of the local universities or high schools have archery teams?"

The group looked at one another questioningly for a few minutes before another of the feds spoke up. "A friend's son went to Oral Roberts University and took an archery class. The school supplied the equipment."

"Sounds like the best idea we've got. How do we get there?"

"Make a left on Eleventh and follow it to Lewis. Make another left and it's a straight shot," Brian supplied.

"Most of you have your families with you. What about them?"

Brian responded, "I think I speak for all of us when I say that we're not planning on taking them on the actual attack, if that's what you're asking. There's a big hospital on the way. They can probably take shelter there. If not, the University itself should be safe."

"Sounds good. Let's get moving."

"Hold on a second," George interjected. "Shouldn't we still be thinking about warning the rest of the city and the country?"

All eyes turned to Mark. "Not much point in trying to send a warning outside the city at this point," he said. "It's well after dark on the west coast, so whatever is going to happen there is already well underway.

"It's up to all of you whether we warn the people here. However, even under the worst case scenario, the vamps make up less than half of one percent of the population. Even if they really hustle ass, there are only so many houses they can hit in one night. Most people will be safe at home."

After a quick discussion and vote, they decided to broadcast a warning over the cruiser's radio that relied on the tried and true terrorist attack story. The message would be a simple one: they would ask anyone listening on a scanner to pass the warning on to their neighbors and then shut off their lights, lock their doors and hide in a basement or attic until morning. Mark just hoped that the vampires leading the assault lacked the capability to triangulate their signal.

They set off with Mark in the lead driving the police cruiser with the lights flashing. He hadn't even reached Eleventh Street when a squawk and a burst of static came from the long silent radio. A calm voice then came on to read off an address. As George began their own broadcast, more addresses were announced, each by a different voice.

Mark was gratified to see that most of the homes in the neighborhoods in which they had already given their warning were dark except for the street lights. In others, however, people continued to celebrate the holiday with family and friends, oblivious to what was happening. It was getting late enough that many such gatherings were coming to an end. As a result of this and people who had received the warning and responded with panic instead of following instructions, traffic quickly picked up substantially. They were still blocks away from Lewis Avenue when they came across a deadlock that not even the flashing lights on top of the cruiser could clear.

Brian came forward and climbed up onto the roof of the police car for a better look. "Lewis is blocked solid in both directions as far as I can see. We're going to have to find another way."

After George ran forward to pass their agreed upon story to the cars in front of them, they pulled a u-turn and tried another route. Mark quickly got disoriented by the twists and turns that they took to avoid the ever growing number of traffic snarls caused by numerous other people abandoning the main routes from the city in favor of the much smaller streets.

Theresa suddenly leaned forward between the seats to peer up at the street signs. "Uh, we're getting real close to the last address that came over the radio."

The only turn they could have taken to avoid it was blocked by an accident involving at least four cars. With growing trepidation, they watched the numbers on the houses and businesses count down ever closer to the one announced on the radio.

The address turned out to be a mostly vacant field with a cement block building surrounded by a chain link fence at one end. Thick cables ran into the building from nearby utility poles, and the whitewashed wall facing the street was marked with the white on red logo of the American Electric Power Company.

"Shit! Look out!" George yelled.

A tractor trailer was racing down the street toward them, knocking the cars in its path to the sides and leaving a trail of wreckage behind it. As it bounced over the curb on a collision course with the building, the driver's side door flew open. A man jumped out of the cab and hit the pavement with a bone crushing thud before rolling down the street, his flailing limbs sticking out at sickening angles.

The semi barely slowed as it smashed through the fence and impacted with the side of the building. Mark was blinded by a flash like a thousand bolts of lightning striking at once. Despite the insulation provided by the car's tires and the soles of his shoes, his feet tingled from the massive discharge of electricity that had been made into the earth. The streetlights and nearby buildings went dark.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed as he rapidly blinked his eyes in an attempt to clear away the blots of color that obscured his vision. "They're taking out substations!" He flailed out with an arm to grab a handful of George's shirt. "Get the stakes."

Working more by feel than sight, Mark pulled the keys from the ignition and, after several unsuccessful attempts, managed to unlock the shotgun, a twelve gauge with a drum magazine, between the seats. He jumped out of the vehicle and raced down the street that was now only dimly lit by the headlights of vehicles.

The semi's driver had pulled himself up onto his knees, his limbs nearly realigned. The buckshot threw him back down onto the pavement; his chest a bloody mess that closely resembled hamburger. He tried to roll clear as Mark worked the pump action of the shotgun, but his attempt to flee came to an end when his head was turned into mush.

As he held the stake in place for George to drive it home, Mark was dimly aware of the pale, frightened, and horrified faces that peered at them from behind the wreckage in the street and out through the darkened windows of nearby homes.

The federal agents and their families moved among them, telling them to remain calm, deflecting questions concerning the manner in which the driver had been dispatched, and commanding them to return to their homes and lock themselves inside.

Despite their efforts, Mark noticed that their little convoy had picked up a few more vehicles when they finally got moving again. By driving on sidewalks and cutting through parking lots, parks and playgrounds, they were able to slowly make their way south. Then their progress was slowed further by the panicked people that were spilling out of every building to congregate in the streets.

After George got on the car's loudspeaker and ordered the crowd to disperse and lock themselves indoors, he set the microphone down with a sigh. "I couldn't figure out why they took out communications so early, but waited until now to disrupt power. Now I know. On tonight of all nights, many people probably didn't even notice that the phones and television were out, and the few that did probably wrote it off as some kind of computer error and went on celebrating. When the power goes out for no good reason, though, people panic and try to find out what's wrong. The vamps didn't want anyone leaving home until they had paid visits to the police, government and media."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, and the timing couldn't be worse. You saw the guy back at the police station. There will be more like him waking up all over the city. With these crowds everywhere..."

He cut off as the people in front of the car suddenly twisted to peer into the gloom at the other end of the street. When they turned back around, their eyes were wide with terror. As a mob, they stampeded away from whatever it was that they had seen. Most ran in the small spaces between the cars that clogged the street, but others ran right over them. One of the kids in the back seat squealed with alarm as the roof of the cruiser buckled under the weight and dented deeply.

For a moment, the press of bodies against the sides of the car was too great to allow Mark to open the door. When the panicked rush passed, the headlights revealed at least four ferals, one a naked, grotesquely fat woman who appeared to be covered in a layer of Crisco. They were each crouched over a squirming body. At the very edge of the circle of light, Mark could make out the corpses of their last kills.

One raised its head as it finished draining the man on whom it fed; its tongue stretching out to swipe over its blood smeared upper lip. Its head twitched and nostrils flared as it took in the scent of the retreating crowd. With a snarl, it renewed pursuit.

An assault rifle opened up from one of the cars behind them. Right in front of Mark's car, the feral staggered backwards as ragged, bloody holes appeared in its chest. A head shot then dropped it to its knees.

The gunfire cut off. In the side mirror, Mark could see one of the feds running forward with an AK-47 in her hands. Grabbing the shotgun, he threw open the door and jumped out. In his peripheral vision, he could see George doing the same, carrying one of the AR-15's that had been in the cruiser's trunk.

As they opened fire, the ferals charged. Two of them tumbled to the pavement under the onslaught, but, despite being riddled with bullets, the fat woman had enough momentum to slam into the fed holding the AK-47 with bone crushing force, smashing her into the car behind her hard enough to crumple the hood.

He stood helplessly - the shotgun would have a good chance of hitting the fed as well as the vampire - as George put at least five rounds into the greasy behemoth. When the feral went limp, Mark rushed over to try to heave it off of the still figure that it covered. The gooey, whitish coating made it difficult to get a grip, and it wasn't until George and the fed's husband joined him that they were able to roll it to the side.

"God damn, that's disgusting," he exclaimed as he wiped his hands off on his pants. He then went silent as he realized that the federal agent, whose name he hadn't even known, had been crushed to death.

As the fed's husband took her hands in his and sank to the pavement beside her, Theresa ran up with the stakes and hammers. Starting with the first feral that had been dropped, they quickly made certain that the beasts would no longer be a threat.

As he held the stake in place on the obese feral's chest, George asked disgustedly, "What is this stuff? It stinks!"

Mark leaned in for a closer look before pulling back with a cough. "It's coming from her pores. My guess would be that, now that she's a vampire, her body is getting rid of useless mass that no longer serves any purpose. She's literally sweating fat. That's probably why she's naked: she's already lost so much weight that her clothes fell right off of her. Eat your heart out, Slimfast."