Shining in Crimson: Empire of Blood Book One (A Dystopian Vampire Novel) (26 page)

"Come on, buddy boy, you've almost got this," Hank said to his glowing little boy.

Toby looked at the couch where his father sat expectantly. His arms reached out like a sleepwalker as his hands opened and closed to grab on to the air to keep his balance. He started making groaning noises like when he wanted to eat, or wanted a toy, or anything else that tickled his fancy. Hank slid down onto his knees on the floor and reached his hands out to Toby just beyond the toddler's reach.

"Toby, you can do it. Remember how Daddy showed you? Just pick up your little footsie and bring it forward, plop it down, and do the same with the other one."

Toby groaned louder with a hint of whining in his voice while shaking his tiny hands for his daddy to grab hold of. Then in his determination for his father to comply, he leaned forward to reach for him. The next second, something miraculous happened. He leaned forward so far that his leg instinctually lifted and swung forward and he fell onto his right foot without even realizing what he had done.

Hank cried out with excitement, "You did it, son!"

Toby looked down at his foot planted on the ground and laughed, doing a little dance. Then he lost his balance and crumbled to the floor, laughing harder in that loud, boisterous way that toddlers do.

* * *

Chuck was speeding along when he decided he wasn’t going to let the bad news ruin his mission. Sure it changed things, dreadfully, but it was what it was, he thought. He would just have to pretend it was just another day at the office, hunting down prey, and murdering them in cold blood. He had adapted to this line of thinking so much he was almost smiling again. But then he came to the mess of collided, abandoned vehicles covering the exit to US Highway 95 North.

"Fuck!" he screamed as his last effort to enjoy his mission disintegrated. Then he gripped the handheld navigation device that was wirelessly locked onto the location of Hank Evans's implant and began to peck harshly on the tiny keys with his thumbs. When the alternative route appeared on the display, it took everything in Chuck's will not to fling the device out the window. Instead, he tossed it into the passenger seat with deliberate constraint and heaved the gearshift up into reverse. The Roadster accelerated backwards and then with a few swift movements, Chuck swung the ‘vette onto US Highway 95 South in the opposite direction. He pulled out his cellular phone and held down the number two, speed dialing the Emperor's main emergency line. The line rang once and then Joseph's scratchy voice greeted him.

"Yes, Lotinger?"

"There is a detour in the original route. It's going to take me another hour and a half to make up the difference. I, I, I'm sorry, sir, it was unavoidable."

The Emperor sighed with obvious contempt.

"I appreciate your informing me of this, Lotinger, but I do not wish to hear your voice again until it is telling me what I want to be hearing. When you have taken care of your assignment, I will be most glad to speak with you. In the meantime, make it so."

"Yes,
Your
Holiness," he said. An empty dial tone returned his declaration of allegiance. He scowled at the phone then put it back in his pocket and sped on.

* * *

Even in the warm, dry air of
Nevada
, the breeze hitting Hank's tear-soaked face sent a chill down his spine. He’d been sitting on his knees in the middle of the desert for some time now, resting his sore legs. He had long since veered from the road and could no longer remember which direction it had been. Sure he was no longer in a place that would shade him from the sun's deadly rays, he slumped forward and turned, plopping down onto his back in the cool sand. As he lay there gazing up at the whole of the dark sky filled with stars, a meteor shower stretched across the sky in brilliant hues of blue and green and he wept. The only faith left in him now was the promise made by Ishan to make sure that Toby would be cared for in the event of Hank's death. His faith in life, and in himself, had scattered adrift with the wind that was now blowing sand into his face.

When Hank woke up, he knew immediately from looking up at the sky that he had slept for some time. It was still dark, but the stars were different. The patterns were the same, but they had shifted to the west a ways. He was shaking violently. At first he thought it was from the cold desert night, but after a few minutes he realized what the true culprit was. He was thirsty, and unlike so many others lost in the desert, it was not water that his body was calling for. He no longer felt overwhelmed with depression. In its place lay a desperation, a yearning so strong he could hardly sit still. He stood up and began to stagger quickly forward in the direction he had been heading all along. He knew there were no humans left in Necropolis. His sense of morality fought him as he went, but his body moved as if he was completely unconflicted. He tried to think of his son, and what the boy would think of his father becoming such a monster, and although tears streamed down his face, he kept on. His legs shook with each step to the point of losing his balance every few footfalls or so.

The wind had picked up, causing more and more dunes as he went, further complicating his journey. He couldn't stop thinking of that first moment when the blood of the ancestors had touched his tongue. At the time, it seemed so insignificant. Now he longed for it, as if it could turn around all of his bad fortune and make the world whole again. Several times, he attempted to run, but found
himself
far too weak and kept walking his wobbly shuffle. He began to wonder just how far it was to the nearest living human being. There would be plenty of
desert
to cross, he was sure. The rational part of his being told him he wouldn't make it before the sun rose. He decided to continue on anyway. Either way he would get what he wanted if it meant his death or someone else’s.

* * *

The roadster's tires squealed as Lotinger barreled down the ramp to get on I-15 North. He was glad the ‘vette had been left with a full tank of gas, considering his trip would likely work out to take much longer than it was supposed to. He had regained his enthusiasm about his mission now and was anticipating his arrival with almost as much pleasure as he had before things changed. He was mentally inventorying the items he would need once he arrived. Lucky for him, he had brought his scope just in case. The fact that he would now have to use it instead of doing the job up close and personal was almost the worst part of the changes the Emperor made to his instructions. He tried to swallow his bitterness and focus on the dimly lit road ahead.

After a while, he zoned out as the beam of the Roadster's headlights flooded over the pavement in front of him. Some of the many faces of his favorite past victims flooded his mind and he relived their murders in his memory, soothing himself into a state of contentment. He thought of his all-time favorite kill, Roger Tresney, and the brilliant look on the man's face as Lotinger strangled the man to death with his bare hands. He hadn't killed many with his
hands,
and certainly none quite as intimately as Roger. He had broken more than a handful of necks, beaten a man to death, and even drowned a couple of unfortunate souls. But the strangulation had been by far the most intimate of them all. Drowning was a close second, but strangulation had allowed him to not only embrace his victim, but to look into his victim's eyes as he took their life. He had found the moment to be quite moving, feeling an equally tender and erotic emotion beyond any he had felt in any sexual situation in his life. He was vividly remembering the moment when Roger's eyes had glossed over when Lotinger noticed the abandoned truck far too late. It had been hidden by the night and his own memories up until now, but in that split second before he hit it, it was lit up bright green like a giant metallic Christmas tree. Lotinger let off the gas and eased into the brakes, cool under fire, knowing if he slammed them, he would flip the Corvette and surely die. As the Roadster slammed into the truck at nearly fifty miles an hour, Lotinger prayed to his master, knowing it was
his
will for him to complete his mission. Knowing this gave him absolute confidence that he would survive to do just that.

* * *

Hank had been trying to stop his restless body for quite some time by thinking of Diana. He wondered, inflicting himself purposely with this anguish, if he were to die, would he be with her. He had bounced around all his life between faith and skepticism, back and forth. But now, it seemed as though he had a chance, albeit a small one, to find out for once and for all. He told himself he could dive full on into that chance and just lay back down as he had before. But, his body would hear none of his reasoning any longer. It continued on as though he were a puppet on a string into the screaming silence of the desert.

After a while longer of walking, he realized that his choice might have been made for him as he saw the very edge of the eastern horizon begin to fade into a dim light blue. While on ahead, he saw still only empty desert as far as he could see. It seemed to him that his body should give him back control, but it did not. It would limp on, with or without him. He knew that now. He accepted this. His legs had long been cramping, and he would have liked his last moments to have been at least somewhat comfortable. With the dim glow of predawn came the disappearance of the stars. One after another, they winked out before him until, after a
while,
they had all been swallowed by the enveloping gray-blue sky that was engulfing the horizon. He looked into the murky waters of the heavens, mesmerized by what they held in store for him. He had finally stopped walking and stood mouth agape as he stared up numbly into space, as though he were in a trance.

He could see specks of black soaring through the sky that he knew had to be birds. He watched them for awhile, saying his last goodbye to the world. As they came closer, the sheer beauty of their movements made him weep for all of the nature he would leave behind, all the moments like this that he would never again experience. He pictured what it would be like to see these things with Toby just one last time.

The bird that caught his eye first arched as it dove playfully around the others, and then rose back toward the upper atmosphere, spinning slowly in its ascent. A thunderous blast resonated from ahead of him like an explosion and he found himself jumping in pure terror. His retinas focused in the direction of the sound and he could see a great dust cloud coming up from the desert.

A change shook through him. The numbness had dissolved in a fraction of a second and was replaced with the dread of dying. Whether it was his body's natural instinct to preserve itself or he truly had a change of heart, he didn't linger to discern for himself. He looked all around him, seeing nothing but desert everywhere he looked. There seemed to be nowhere to hide from the sun. He did the only thing he could think to do. He dove into the sand and started digging as fast as he could, using the whole length of his arms to shovel sand aside.

He scooped left and then right, resembling an Olympic swimmer with his movements. As he dug nearly three feet of sand from the surface light spreading all around him. He dared a glance back at the horizon to see the sun had not quite risen yet, but would surely at any moment. He stumbled back around to dig as fast as he could. His arms shook violently as he lifted up the heavy sand and flung it away. The more sand he flung, the heavier his arms became. They were like
limp
noodles hanging from his shoulders.

In utter desperation, he threw himself backward and used his legs to push the hole deeper. For a few moments, he made some progress this way but his legs had already been weakened from the hours of walking. His right leg spasmed in the most painful muscle cramp he ever experienced in his entire life. As he lay on his side trying to beat his leg in order to loosen the cramp, he felt the warmth of the sun on his back. Only it wasn't its usual morning warmth, it was burning his flesh.

He tried to push himself into the tiny hole that he had dug. Even with crouching, he could only fit in up to his waist. The sun was rising, and he could feel it spreading up his body. He was about to re-situate himself headfirst into the hole when he glimpsed what was now a full fiery sun blazing over the edge of the horizon. His face began to burn and then his sight went black. All he felt was the burning and he couldn't help but wonder why it had to last so long. In his mind he said his last goodbye to Toby, and called out to his long-lost wife to come to him and see him through to the other side. When nothing changed, no voice came to his aid, no light illuminated
no
tunnel, he knew that he had been right to doubt all those years.

There really was nothing.
Nothing at all beyond the frailty of existence that he had known.
Nothing past the point of no return.
Nothing but the love, pain, misery, torture, fleeting memories of the pale blue Earth.
His body fell backward into the sand as he gave up the fight for his life. Dust knocked up into the air from the collision his body made with the ground. The dust collected around him and he started coughing as it filled up his lungs. In mid-cough spasm, he saw flashes of light. But there was nothing magical about this light. After a longer coughing fit, the light went from glimpses to a slowly progressing image. As the image came into focus, a wave of confusion flushed over him. He was seeing the desert again. He was seeing it in the light of the sun. His flesh still felt as though it
were
roasting, but it was beginning to seem bearable. He looked down at his exposed hand. He could see some slight noticeable blistering, but it wasn't getting worse. After standing up on his feet and checking all of his limbs for functionality and limberness, he screamed out in joy. He was alive, after all. He didn't understand it, but then again he still didn't understand how he had lived through the night either. It was a known fact that vampires could not survive the exposure to the sun. He started wondering what
was
really happening to him if he were not truly a vampire. He quickly reached in his mouth with his sand-covered right hand and at first had to fight to stop the gagging and spitting of sand that his mouth reacted with. Then after he was able to wipe enough sand off, he tried again. The two fangs were there still, but smaller. And if they had shrunk this much, he hoped, maybe they would shrink even more. He jumped up in the air in gratitude to whatever luck had gave him this magnificent second chance. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled, smiling a smile of true happiness for the first time in many years.