The Pilgrims of the Damned: A Vampire Thriller, page 24
“Just be careful, Miles. I would hate to think you’ve come all this way only to have some werewolf pack try to end your life.”
“You know, it’s weird. Werewolves don’t normally hunt in packs, they don’t live in packs, there’s no alpha or beta, they’re solitary creatures. They’re fiercely territorial, and they fight to the death with any other werewolf who dares enter their territory. Apart from when I was handed over to the werewolf I killed, I never saw them interact, never saw the other members of their group.”
“These werewolves aren’t behaving like the usual,” Thomas said. “That what you’re saying?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Miles said. “I’m just—there’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand. Maybe if this group comes after me together, I can ask them about it.”
“Don’t even joke, Miles,” Thomas said. “You killed one werewolf alone, but I wouldn’t want anyone to go up against four or five of them at a time.”
“You and me both,” Miles said.
Thomas left the Winnebago, closing the door behind him.
“You really think they’ll come for you?” Amelia asked, taking a drink of her coffee.
Miles nodded. “At some point, probably. Not because they’re werewolves, but because I killed one of their mates. Unless whoever they’re working for forbids it, then maybe they’ll slink off to wherever they’re hiding and stay there. We can all hope for that, I guess.”
Arvid Holmlund climbed into the Winnebago cab and started the engine, setting off a few minutes later after the remains of the convoy.
Miles watched out of the window as they slowly left the city of Brunswick, and felt more than a little bit of happiness about it. They drove over the bridge, stopping for the inevitable checks on both sides, before being allowed to continue on north, up toward Bangor.
“It’s not a long drive to Bangor,” Arvid said without looking back after being on the road for a few minutes. “The road isn’t great, though, so it might get a little bumpy even at low speeds. If you need to get rest, I’d do it now. By the time we get to Bangor, there’s going to be a lot happening.”
“We’re up now,” Amelia said, looking over at Miles. “If I go back to bed, I’m going to be no use to anyone by the time I’m done.”
“Probably not sensible to sleep in case there’s an emergency,” Miles said, keeping Amelia’s gaze.
“Yes, emergency,” Amelia agreed. “Gotta keep alert for those.”
Church looked between Amelia and Miles and let out a snort of derision, before moving to the floor as Miles and Amelia moved to the bedroom.
Forty-five minutes later, Miles left Amelia to rest, and rejoined Arvid, sitting beside him in the passenger seat. “Heard you found some nasty stuff under Falmouth,” Arvid said.
“All of it,” Miles said. “There’s no good bits under that fort.”
“Glad you managed to save the Major,” he said. “He’s a good man. Good vampire. Helps out a lot in the state. He’s… that’s weird.”
Miles glanced beyond Arvid out of the front window. All he saw were the vehicles in front, illuminated by the headlights of the Winnebago, as the weather began to take a turn for the worse.
“What’s up?” Miles asked.
“Probably nothing,” Arvid said. “Thought I saw a light in the distance.”
“Didn’t there used to be a lighthouse near here?” Miles asked.
“Rockland Breakwater Lighthouse,” Arvid said. “Hasn’t been used in years… wait, look again.”
This time, Miles saw the light in the distance. “The lighthouse?”
“Maybe,” Arvid said. “It looks like it. But it’s derelict.”
“Can you radio the front vehicle?” Miles asked.
Arvid lifted the radio receiver and pressed the button to connect with the front vehicle.
“What’s up, Arvid?” a female voice asked.
“You see the lighthouse?” Arvid asked.
“Yeah, weird,” the voice on the other end said. “I’ve driven this way a thousand times since the fall, never seen it working.”
“Put your foot down,” Miles said. “Go as fast as is possible to stay safe.”
“You think there’s trouble?” Thomas asked through the radio.
“I think after what we saw in Falmouth, I’m not opposed to the idea of someone using the lighthouse as a signal,” Miles said. “What’s Rockland like?”
“It’s gone,” Thomas said. “One of many of the smaller towns that were evacuated and then firebombed. Nothing left but some stubborn buildings that wouldn’t fall down, and a lot of ashes.”
“Dangerous to drive through?” Miles asked.
“Not really,” Arvid said. “The roads are all fucked, but never had a problem here.”
“What’s the next town ahead like?” Miles asked.
“Belfast has a small population,” Thomas said. “It’s a fort, like Falmouth was. Few hundred people live there, maybe four hundred in total. About ten percent are vampires who work for Bangor and travel back and forth, keeping the roads open.”
“Anything between there and Bangor?” Miles asked.
“No,” Thomas said. “Any villages or towns are abandoned or destroyed. It’s not a great drive, but there’s nowhere to stop that’s populated. We go up by Swan Lake, never even had desolate to worry about. You think there’s an attack about to happen in Rockland?”
“Can’t say for certain,” Miles said. “I think someone is signalling that we’re on the way. If Rockland is all but flattened, there’s no point in attacking here, they’re just as exposed as we’ll be. Belfast maybe, but they’ll hopefully already be warned by the truck who went ahead. My guess is it’ll be beyond there, lots of open forest and hills. Lots of places to stage an ambush.”
“Liam’s people?” Thomas asked.
Miles thought for a moment. “Not his people, but whoever he’s working with will know the land. Once we leave Belfast, be prepared for trouble.”
The radio conversation ended, and Miles went to wake Amelia, explaining that they might be expecting trouble.
The convoy full of pilgrims slowly moved into Rockland. The town was almost exactly how Miles had expected it to be, and pretty much how Thomas had described it. It was a barren wasteland, devoid of anything close to liveable. While it took nearly forty minutes to drive through it because of the state of the roads, Miles felt a little relief when they were beyond it, heading up toward Belfast.
The fort of Belfast resembled Falmouth so much that they might well have been twins, although the Falmouth fort was several times smaller than the Belfast incarnation.
Everyone waited in their vehicles as they drove into the fort, with fifty pairs of eyes all looking down on them from the buildings on either side.
Miles watched Thomas and his Blood Guard get down from their vehicle and speak to the man in charge, who saluted to the Major when he joined them. The conversation was brief, and Miles noticed that the soldiers or guards in the fort who weren’t watching them were all searching the buildings in small groups. Miles hoped that, should the worst happen and the desolate attack, Belfast would at least be prepared for it. The desolate would find it a considerably harder target than the unprepared soldiers at Falmouth.
Amelia stood next to Miles and watched the conversation play out in front of them. “It feels like the closer we are to Bangor, the more danger we’re in.”
“That’s about right,” Miles said. “That lighthouse was used for a reason. Maybe it’s just some enterprising soul who decided to make it their home and activate it, but right now, I’m not taking any chances.”
“Is this how you work all the time?” Amelia asked. “Seeing the worst-case scenario?”
Miles nodded as he kept his eyes on the fort. “It’s always the little things that end up being the biggest problems. You can’t live your life expecting the unexpected, because that’s frankly exhausting and you’d be living in a state of perpetual fear. You can keep an eye out for something that’s not right, or just out of place. Somewhere you need to go that would make for an advantageous place for your enemies to just show up.”
“Like the vast amount of wilderness beyond Belfast?” Amelia asked.
“Aye, just like that.”
“You think they’ll attack us?” Arvid asked.
“Would you do it?” Amelia asked Miles.
“Maybe,” Miles said. “You eliminate the first vehicle. Cause confusion and panic. You force everyone to stop, make sure that the attack is fast, brutal. No time for anyone to take a breath. You’d need more than five werewolves to do it with this many people in the convoy.”
“Unleash the desolate,” Arvid said.
“They could, but they’d lose a lot of them,” Miles said. “No matter what the campsite talk is about them being unkillable, the desolate aren’t regenerating themselves. They’re a finite resource. Even if some of them have been bigger and tougher than I’m used to seeing in their kind.”
“Why do they keep coming back, then?” Arvid asked.
“That is a question I can’t answer right now,” Miles said as Thomas shook the Commander of the fort’s hand and entered his vehicle, along with the Major and Blood Guard.
Miles grabbed the radio and switched on Thomas’s frequency.
“They were told about Falmouth,” Thomas said as he picked up the receiver on his end. “They’re searching the fort and putting countermeasures in place. Everyone is on edge. They said they’ve done sweeps of the road ahead and seen nothing out of the ordinary. It looks like we’re clear to go.”
Miles considered what Thomas had said.
“You still there?” Thomas asked.
“They have underground mine carts that they used to get about in the tunnels,” Miles said. “They could stretch all around the state and we know nothing about it. It’s possible they’ve gotten ahead of us and are waiting. Hiding from patrols until the time to strike.”
“Well, we can’t stay here indefinitely,” Thomas said.
“I know,” Miles said. “Let’s go, just keep your eyes open. They think they have the element of surprise. Let’s use that against them.”
The pilgrimage was off only a few minutes later, and Miles watched the guard all around the fort as they continued.
“Miles,” Thomas radioed through. “Whatever happens between here and Bangor, I just want to say thank you for being a part of this pilgrimage. I appreciate it. You’ve helped keep my people and my charges safe, Miles.”
“Thomas, thank you, but we’re not done yet,” Miles said. “When we get to Bangor, and I mean when, not if, you can buy me a drink. Until then, keep your eyes open, and if you see anything out of the ordinary, you let me know.”
He ended the call and said to Arvid, “Drop back a little from the bus. I want to see more of the area.”
“We should have gone first,” Arvid said.
“No one is going to attack from up front,” Miles said. “It’ll be from one of the sides. Maybe the rear.”
“I’ll go look through the windows at the back,” Amelia said.
“Church, keep Amelia safe,” Miles said.
Church barked and followed her through to the rear bedroom.
Miles switched off all the lights inside the Winnebago and went from window to window in the living area, looking out into the darkness, wondering if there were people out there just waiting to attack.
They drove slowly along the road, as Miles felt the concern growing around him as if it were a living thing, smothering those who were unlucky enough to be close to it.
The moon was hidden behind thick cloud, the rain pummelling the vehicles and road they drove on, making it little more than slippery mud, with the occasional stretch of tarmac. Miles continued to look out of the windows, moving from place to place in the hope he didn’t miss something.
After twenty minutes, the radio went off. Arvid answered it immediately, before passing the receiver to Miles.
“We’ve found something,” Thomas said as the convoy stopped moving. “Can you see it?”
Miles looked out of the front windscreen and some ways in the distance, to the left, down what looked like an embankment, something was on fire. The flames leapt up at the sky, as if in defiance at the rain.
“What is it?” Miles asked.
“No clue,” Thomas said.
“Wait there,” Miles told him and hung up.
“There a problem?” Amelia asked.
Miles shrugged as he picked up his rain jacket from the coat hook next to the door. “Something is on fire ahead. I’m going to check.”
“Alone?” Amelia asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Miles assured her. “Church, stay with Amelia. No matter what happens, you protect her.”
Church barked once, before walking up to Miles and letting out a slight whine.
“I’ll be fine,” Miles repeated, giving her a stroke under the chin. “Be back shortly.”
Miles opened the door and took a few seconds to get used to the downpour happening outside. He dropped down to the ground, which squelched as he walked along the broken road, by the bus, receiving a few more glares from those who had decided their hatred for him. He stopped by Thomas’s vehicle and knocked.
“This is my Blood Guard,” Thomas said as one of the guards stepped out into the rain. “His name is Valter Casio. He will go with you to check the fire. You think we should stop here?”
“I’ll figure that out in a few minutes, I guess,” Miles said. “You ready to get really wet and muddy, Valter?”
“It’s a dirty job, my lord,” the Blood Guard said, his voice muffled from behind the mask, just like the others. “But needs must.”
“Miles is fine,” he said. “I stopped being anything like a lord a long time ago.”
The Blood Guard bowed his head.
“Be prepared to move fast,” Miles told Thomas.
“Be safe,” Thomas told him.
Miles and the Blood Guard moved through the rain to the top of the embankment. It was maybe a hundred feet down to the on-fire vehicle, which from this distance Miles could see was the truck that had gone off to deliver the supplies.
“They were one of ours,” the Blood Guard said.
“Let’s go take a look,” Miles said, looking over at the broken road which had fallen to the side of the embankment, forming a makeshift path. “You see anything, you shout.”
“Yes, my… yes, Miles.”
Miles ran over to the broken part of the road, and used his speed and agility to make it down to the bottom of the embankment without either having to become covered in mud, or turn into his beast form. The heat from the vehicle was intense enough that it made Miles skirt around the trees close to the impact site, to avoid it.
Miles looked up at the road above, and back to the truck. It appeared to have come off the road and smashed into the trees at the bottom, bouncing farther down the bottom of the embankment, where it eventually came to a stop. The front end was all but sheared off, and the contents of the truck covered the muddy landscape.
Miles sniffed the air as the Blood Guard joined him. No burned bodies. No blood. Where did the driver and passenger go?
“You see any bodies?” the Blood Guard asked.
“You got a radio?” Miles asked as he stared into the forest, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention.
The Blood Guard nodded and passed it to Miles, who activated it. “Get going,” he said to Thomas. “We’ll catch up to you.”
“You sure?” Thomas asked.
“Go. Now,” Miles said, passing the radio back as a low growl left the darkness of the forest, followed by the smell of fresh meat. And blood.
“An ambush,” the Blood Guard said, drawing his broadsword.
“Get back to the trucks,” Miles told him. “I’ll lead it away. They want me to meet their leader.” Hopefully that was still the case.
“It?” the Blood Guard asked.
“Just go,” Miles said.
“Come with me,” the Blood Guard said.
“If I come, it’ll follow,” Miles said. “We’ll either be caught or this thing will end up at Bangor. Neither are acceptable.”
“My lord,” the Blood Guard started.
Miles turned to his vampire form, making out the shape of the massive desolate a hundred feet inside the trees. The desolate howled in rage and charged at them, the need to do violence easy to see. Miles was wrong—they did not want to take him to their leader. They wanted him dead.
“Run!” Miles shouted at the Blood Guard.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Miles sprinted along the bottom of the embankment, back toward the fort of Belfast, although he’d have been lucky to make it before the desolate giant caught up with him. But he wasn’t trying to get away from the desolate, he was trying to get the desolate away from everyone else.
The sound of engines roared behind him as the convoy moved away. He hoped the Blood Guard had done as he’d been told and run back to rejoin the pilgrims. Miles didn’t need to worry about someone else while doing something stupid. And whatever his plan would be, he was sure he was going to regret it later.
Miles had run a few hundred meters when he stopped and looked behind at the lumbering form of the desolate, who was still screaming in rage. He prepared for the fight, when he caught the scent of the werewolf. He threw himself back as the werewolf sailed by him, crashing into the wall of dirt and muck that the road drove along.
The desolate giant was still coming after him as the werewolf disengaged itself from the situation it had found itself in. Miles blasted the werewolf with a shot of telekinesis, slamming it back into the wall with enough force that it buckled part of the wall itself, and the werewolf suddenly found itself being partially buried by several tonnes of muck and rubble from the road above.
The desolate was at Miles a heartbeat later, and the vampire only narrowly avoided the massive crushing hands of the creature as it tried to grab at him. If that had happened, it would have surely ended with Miles’s death.
