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“Let me get this straight, Buck.” Zeflan yelled over the vociferous helicopter engines. “You’re telling me that Lord Galton now controls the entire west coast of North America?”
“Just about.” Another soldier inside the helicopter replied. “They started with the boonies, drop-shipping a small number of soldiers here and there. By the time the military got wind of what they were up to the Galton soldiers had moved on.”
“And the cities?” Zeflan asked.
“Do you need to ask? You should know better than anyone.” Buck said. Following a moment of silence he explained. “When the Galton armies left, nomad vampires occupied and scavenged what remained.”
“Armies? I know Lord Galton is a rich and powerful man with rich and powerful men behind him, but you’re telling me he commands armies!?”
“It caught us off guard, too. They practically swept the entire coast with foot soldiers. Galton took a big hit from this gambit, I reckon.”
“I wouldn’t call seizing nearly half of the U.S. a big hit.” Zeflan found himself saying.
Buck laughed loudly and anxiously. “Maybe you’re right. But there’s something else. Those Galton soldiers... they’re something else.” He said, looking down at his helmet by his feet.
“I can imagine.” Zeflan said, picturing in his head a gruesome battle between United Human Allies and Galton Emirates.
“No, I mean they ain’t human. But they ain’t no bloodsuckers either. And when you kill them they decompose like that.” Buck snapped his fingers. “There’s nothing to autopsy.”
“Oh!” With the preceding hectic series of events Zeflan had momentarily forgotten about his brother. “What about Los Angeles, do they occupy the city?”
“You better believe it, partner.” Buck said. “I reckon that was one of their targets from the get go.”
A sinking feeling pulled at Zeflan’s stomach for a moment and then moved to a lump in his throat. He knew the chance of his brother being okay was slim at best, but he couldn’t bear to face this thought head on. Not yet.
“And Seattle, too?” Zeflan asked, his voice slightly cracking.
“’Fraid so.”
“Where are we going now?” Zeflan asked as he peered out the helicopter window at the barren desert bellow.
“There is a fort that’s being used to house all the evacuated refugees in the southeast U.H. of A. A fort outside of what used to be the capital of the Texas territories.” Buck Said. “My hometown.” He added.
The helicopter now flew lower than ever before, nearing its destination. Peering out of the small window inside the chopper revealed a series of small encampments consisting of tent and shack constructs enclosed within thick walls and fences. People crowded around small fires that burned from trash cans while others ran in same direction as they flew.
When the chopper finally touched down they were greeted by military personal dressed similar to Buck, some of which were medics who ushered Zeflan to a nearby tent. Following a series of vain medical examinations and questions, he was given an identification card which simply read: Zeflan Bordeaux; Refugee, with a barcode beneath.
With no destination or quarters for him to lay his weary head, Zeflan was released into the fort city to join the hundreds of other refugees who also had to fend for themselves. Although safe from the clutches of vampires, he could not help but feel that his endurance was being tested yet again.
- Writer
