Raphael nearly whimpered, until he noticed that the person didn't go far. They'd merely walked to the end of the log and sat down. He heard the strike of a match, then saw smoke rise.

  He couldn't see the person's face, only their back. He had no way of knowing if they were alone or if there was an entire regiment positioned a few feet away. Not that it mattered.

  His instincts had usurped his mind. He was no longer controlling his movements. With cracked hands, Raphael pulled himself across the ground. The sound of the camp being dismantled covered his movements.

  It felt like it took an eternity to reach the log where the man sat. Raphael glanced back. All that effort and he’d only covered six feet.

  The glorious aroma was stronger now. It compelled him to continue. He'd only get one chance at this. If he missed, then Raphael was as good as dead.

  Even if he didn't, there was no guarantee that he'd survive the rest of the day. None of it mattered. Raphael couldn't ignore the drumming in his head. He took a deep breath and lunged for the man.

  The cigarette went flying into the air as the man tumbled back. Before he could cry out for help, Raphael clamped his hand over the man’s mouth and buried his fangs in his throat. Blood filled his mouth.

  Raphael tried to swallow but his throat refused to work. He choked. Precious fluid jettisoned from his lips soiling the ground. The man struggled to escape but somehow Raphael held on.

  He pressed his mouth against the man's skin as tight as he could, forcing the blood down his throat. After a few more false starts, he managed to swallow. It burned so bad that tears welled in his eyes.

  He did it again. This time it didn't hurt quite as bad. By the fifth or sixth gulp, Raphael’s pain disappeared and the man stopped struggling. He wept as he drained the life out of the soldier. He'd had no choice but that didn't make taking an innocent life any easier.

  Raphael ripped his mouth away from the man's throat. If he drank much more, he'd be ill. Already he could feel his strength returning. After banging on Death’s door for so long, he hadn’t thought recovery was possible.

  He pulled the man's body under the slab and wedged it against the log. If anyone came looking for him, they wouldn't find any trace of him.

  Now that he'd finally eaten, Raphael could focus again. If he managed to survive the night there was a very good chance that he'd live. It was a miracle. Or maybe the man in the lab coat was right about him being cursed.

  Whatever the truth, he was alive. He thought about Michael. If he’d managed to escape, maybe his brother had, too. It was a long shot but so was his survival. Raphael vowed not to leave until he had physical proof one way or another of his brother's fate.

  Every part of Raphael’s body hurt. He opened his eyes and blinked, but didn’t recognize where he was. The gray concrete walls of his cell were gone. He moved and something jabbed him in the back. What was he lying on? And what was that god-awful smell?

  He lifted his hand and heard a clank. Raphael looked down and saw the shackle around his wrist. So that part wasn't a dream. He twisted the metal. The shackle strained, then fell away. Raphael sniffed. The stench emanated from nearby. He rolled over and spotted the body.

  Given the putrid odor of decomp it had been there for more than a day. Raphael crawled along the log and poked his head out. The main building he'd been housed in had been reduced to rubble and the barracks were gone.

  He listened, but didn't hear any sound of movement. That didn't mean that he was alone, but no one was nearby.

  Raphael grabbed onto the log and pulled himself to his feet. He swayed as his legs struggled to support his boney frame. He'd been close to death many times, but he'd never come this close to dying. He looked at the demolished building.

  Was Michael still in there?

  Raphael sent up a silent prayer that his brother had somehow survived. He’d need to be at full strength to dig him out, which meant Raphael had to find something to eat. The pain made it obvious that he was still healing from his injuries.

  He moved slowly, cautiously. Scoping out the area was imperative. There was a very good possibility that no one remained. For survival sake, he hoped that wasn't the case.

  Raphael worked his way around the edge of the woods taking care to stay in deep enough so that he wouldn't be spotted. The camp had been completely stripped.

  The soldiers had taken everything that hadn't been nailed down. He found what he was looking for near the turrets. A handful of men were dismantling the massive towers and the guns inside them.

  A truck had been positioned next to the gate to save on loading time. Raphael drew nearer so he could hear what they were saying.

  "I got to hit the head," a soldier said.

  One of the men grunted in response.

  They paid no attention to him as he strode down the road and stepped into the woods. They seemed to be making an effort not to look at the destroyed building. Was it out of guilt? Or something more primal? They continued to work at a clipped pace.

  Raphael stalked through the woods and waited for the soldier to unzip his fly and start to relieve himself. When he was at his most vulnerable, Raphael came up behind him. He leaned in next to the soldier’s ear and said, "Hello David."

  Raphael watched from the safety of the woods as the men searched for David. They didn't put a lot of time or effort into it. Obviously he wasn't worth much to them or perhaps they were more concerned about their own safety. With David missing, they weren't as relaxed as they'd been earlier.

  They kept their eyes on the woods and the road, as they hurried up to finish the job. They departed the second they'd dismantled the last of the turrets and loaded it onto the truck. David regained consciousness shortly thereafter.

  When his gaze landed on Raphael, his eyes widened and he screamed. Unfortunately for him, no one but Raphael could hear him.

  "It won't do you any good," Raphael said. "They're gone."

  "H-h-how are you alive?" he asked.

  "How indeed," Raphael said.

  "You look...different."

  Probably because he was no longer starving to death, Raphael thought but said nothing.

  David scrambled back until he hit a tree trunk. He looked around frantically, searching for a means to escape. There was none. "What are you going to do to me?"

  "First, we're going to have a little chat," Raphael said.

  "About?" he stuttered.

  "My brother, the men you work for, how you got involved with all this." He shrugged. "I’m sure other things will come to mind."

  He swallowed hard. "Once I tell you everything you want, then what?" David asked. "Are you going to kill me?"

  "I suggest you save your breath," Raphael parroted David's own words back to him. "You're going to need it."

  4

  Raphael bound David to a tree with straps he found in the rubble. They wouldn’t hold long but it wouldn’t require a lot of time to do what he needed to accomplish.

  David flinched when he approached.

  Raphael got some satisfaction from his reaction but not enough. "I'm not going to lie. This is going to hurt," he said. Pain wasn’t necessary but this man deserved it. He opened his mouth and waited for his fangs to lengthen.

  David's eyes widened in terror. "I was only doing my job," he wailed.

  "You helped torture two senior officers," Raphael snarled.

  "The orders came from Commander D.B. Griffin himself. His instructions were clear. You people were to be destroyed. No exceptions." He gasped as Raphael drew closer. "That's all I know. I swear."

  The pain of betrayal nearly doubled him over. Why had the Commander done such a thing? They’d given him everything. Sacrificed everything. It made no sense. He had to try to understand.

  "For your sake I hope you know more," Raphael murmured, then struck. His fangs sank deep into the soldier's throat.

  Blood filled his mouth, renewing his cells, and healing his wounds. Raphael opened his mind. It took no effort at all to connect with David.

  Information flooded into his head. Images flickered like cards being shuffled before his eyes. He saw himself. He saw Michael. And he saw...so many others who'd come before them. How many had they killed?

  The images of the bodies staggered him. Raphael stumbled back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why? Why kill them all?"

  David seemed to pull himself together long enough to answer. "Like I said, orders came down from the top. Eliminate the abominations. It's the only way for the world to move forward."

  Spoken like a true zealot.

  Raphael had read his thoughts. Knew that David believed he was doing the right thing, even though in the beginning he had some reservations about following the orders. A few regrets didn’t make up for what he’d done.

  "Who was the man in the lab coat?" Raphael asked.

  "Doctor Williams. Clyde Williams," David said.

  "Where has he gone?" Raphael asked.

  He shook his head. "I don't know."

  Raphael struck again with blinding speed. David didn't even have time to scream. He listened to every conversation the soldier had ever had with Williams.

  By the time he'd finished, Raphael had a pretty good idea where the good doctor was headed. He released him and let him droop against the tree.

  "Did Williams work on my brother alone?"

  David didn't look up. "No," he rasped. "He had a colleague named Ted Siegfried."

  "Good boy." Raphael patted his cheek. David didn't even flinch. He wasn't in shape to go anywhere, which made it the perfect time to try to find Michael. He left the soldier bound to the tree and walked over to look at what was left of the concrete monstrosity.

  Raphael pulled the lighter pieces of ceiling and walls off the top of the pile. He worked slowly and methodically to prevent further collapse. It was painstaking work. He listened as he dug, searching for signs of a heartbeat, but there were none.

  At hour three, he came across the first set of bodies. They were huddled together and barely recognizable. At first glance, he'd thought they were animals, then he'd assumed they were children.

  It was only when he'd uncovered the last of the remains that he realized they were three adults, who'd been so starved that they'd shrunken in size. Their mouths were thrown open in agony, their silent cries forever unanswered.

  Raphael carefully lifted the bodies out of their makeshift grave and gently placed them on the ground under a nearby tree.

  He found seven more after discovering the first three, all in various stages of malnourishment, all just as dead. Sweat mingled with his tears as Raphael carried body after body over to the tree.

  Where was Michael?

  He burrowed deeper. The lower levels of the building were charred black from the blast. Blood dripped from Raphael's hands where his nails had been torn off.

  He was getting closer. He could tell because he recognized his own stench on the concrete. Michael had been held across the hall.

  Raphael tried to get his bearings, but he had no idea if Michael had been down another hall or if the door had opened into a room. He oriented himself to face away from where he'd been blown into the woods. Raphael tore at the rubble.

  Michael? Brother, where are you?

  He received no response. Two feet deeper and Raphael felt his first glimmer of hope. The scent here was familiar and could only have come from one person. He hurried. The faster he dug, the darker the debris became. This area was more charred than the spot where he'd been held.

  Doesn't mean anything? He could've survived, he told himself.

  Blood flowed unchecked from his hands now, thanks to the multitude of cuts and abrasions crisscrossing his skin. Raphael ignored the pain and kept digging.

  "I'm coming, Michael," he said aloud. "Hang on."

  The floor suddenly stopped. Raphael had finally reached the bottom level. He cleared away the last of the ruins and looked around. Michael had to be here. There was nowhere else to look.

  Soot and ash covered the floor. There was no sign that the place had ever held rooms or bodies. Everything had been destroyed by the blast and the fire quickly devoured what had the misfortune to survive.

  Maybe he hadn't been here. Maybe he'd gotten out before the detonation. If so, where was he?

  Raphael called out his name until his voice went hoarse. Exhausted, he dropped to his hands and knees. But he couldn’t quit, wouldn’t quit.

  Frantically, he brushed aside the ash, searching for some sign that Michael had survived. He was just about to give up, when his hand struck something hard. Raphael lifted the blackened object out of the soot to get a better look at what he’d found.

  He used his tattered shirt to clean a small section off. A tiny sliver of melted gold glimmered in the moonlight. "No!" he shouted in denial.

  Raphael continued to clean until the last of the charring had been removed, then he climbed out of the rubble and held it up to the moon.

  Michael's ruby ring glowed in the pale light.

  Raphael clutched the ring to his chest, then glanced back in the hole he'd created. His brother would've never willingly removed the ring. Their mother had given it to him when he'd graduated from college. Just like she'd given Raphael the crucifix he wore. The ring meant the world to Michael. With the rest of their family gone, it was all his brother had left of her and home.

  Had it been removed? It seemed unlikely since they hadn't bothered to strip him of his jewelry before they tortured him. He stared at the inch deep layer of black ash. Somewhere in that heap was his brother’s remains.

  "I'm so sorry," Raphael murmured, squeezing the ring until his fingers hurt. "It's my fault. We should've never come here."

  Raphael glanced at the bodies aligned under the tree. At least they'd receive a proper burial. He'd make sure of it. Which was more than Michael got. He unclasped his necklace and slipped the ring onto the chain. It rested near the cross.

  He stared at it for a moment, then put the crucifix back on, feeling the weight of Michael's ruby ring resting next to his heart.

  Raphael's expression hardened, then his head swiveled in David's direction. He may not have been able to save Michael, but he could damn sure avenge him.

  He returned to the spot where he'd secured the soldier. The bindings were loose and David was gone. He hissed. He couldn't have gotten far.

  Raphael raised his head and sniffed the air. Now that he'd tasted his blood he'd be able to catch the scent even if it was the minutest trace.

  He slowly turned in a circle. The stench of dried blood tickled his nostrils. David had gone west. Raphael was about to pursue him when he heard predators approaching. If he didn't bury the bodies, the remains would be eaten. He looked west, torn between duty and revenge.

  What would Michael want him to do?

  Raphael swore loudly then marched back over to the tree where the fallen lie. His movements were efficient despite the fact he was in pain. He scooped up handfuls of sand, dirt, and shells, then tossed them aside.

  It took Raphael two hours to dig a big enough plot to comfortably fit the bodies in. It would’ve been easier to return them to the building and covered them with the debris but he couldn’t. They’d suffered enough. They needed to be interred somewhere they could rest. Blood ran from his hands as he placed each person into the grave.

  When he was finished and had covered the victims with the soil, Raphael bowed his head and said a silent prayer that they find peace. He requested an extra blessing for Michael because he knew what he was about to do would never be forgiven.

  "Amen," Raphael said then tossed a final handful of dirt onto the grave.

  He walked away from the area to get the scent of burning materials and death out of his lungs. The second he could breathe without smelling them, he stopped and looked back.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, brother,” he murmured then turned west.

  Raphael kept up a clipped pace only taking shelter when the sun was at its highest point in the sky. Even then, its rays felt like someone had shoved a thousand splinters beneath his skin.

  The scent of blood was stronger now. He'd even spotted a few droplets on the ground. It wouldn't be long before he caught up with David.

  The soldier was sticking close to the tree-line but would soon run out of cover. In the next mile or so, the dead forest would give way to a once fertile plain. If David had gone north, then he might've had a chance to hide, but he'd been sticking to a westerly direction. Why?

  Raphael racked his brain trying to remember if there'd been another military base in the Republic of the Floridian Islands. He couldn't recall one being here but he did recall hearing about one in the Republic of New Texas. Was David trying to reach it? His blood chilled.

  What if that base was like the one he'd just left?

  There was only one way to find out. He had to catch up with David before he got to that plain.

  Raphael waited for the sun to set, then set off at a brisk jog. His body still ached but the blood he'd ingested had healed his severest injuries. He caught up with David in time to see him cross into the Republic of New Texas.

  Like the Republic of Floridian Islands, the territory of New Texas was an amalgamation of several states that included what used to be Alabama, Louisiana, and New Mexico.

  David was moving well for someone who'd been drained of so much blood. Why was that?

  Raphael had more questions than answers. He waited for David to get further down the road, then approached the boundary crossing.

  The portly guard working the gate looked up from his book. "Evening," he said.

  "Evening." Raphael held his arm under the scanner on the desk. The machine read the chip imbedded under his skin.

  He wasn’t sure what would pop up on the screen given his recent detainment. He didn’t want to kill this man. He was only doing his job, but he would if pushed.

  He stared at the spider web of lines that had appeared on his skin after the first round of electric shocks. Would the chip even register with that much current emptied into his body?

  A moment later, Raphael’s name appeared on a screen, along with a picture he barely recognized. Had he ever been that young? He didn't think so.

 

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