Revolution: Dominion of the Damned, #3

Also by Jean Marie Bauhaus

https://books2read.com/JeanMarieBauhaus

Dominion of the Damned trilogy:

Desolation

Evolution

Revolution

The Restless Spirits series:

Restless Spirits

Kindred Spirits

Bound Spirits

Novellas and Collections

Fragments & Fancies

Midnight Snacks

Sleep, Dearie, Sleep

Terror at Lake Eucha

The Hag

The Witch in the Cellar

Women’s Work

As Jeanie Nicholson

Gone to the Dogs

The Pixie and the Professor

To everyone who stepped up to become revolutionaries who fight for truth and freedom in 2020 and beyond.

REVOLUTION

ONE

ALEK PULLED HANNAH closer, breathing in her scent, committing it to memory. Snuggling against him, she looked up at him and smiled. They lay cocooned together in white, downy blankets, safe and warm, while Noah slept soundly in his room next door. Soon they would have to climb out of their comfortable sanctuary and each other’s arms and go on with the business of the day, but for now the world and their responsibilities fell away. It was only the two of them, and all that mattered at that moment was Hannah’s smile. Alek traced her upturned lips with a finger before bending his neck to grace them with a kiss.

Hands dug painfully into his arms and shoulders, pulling him away from her, out of their bed, out of his dream and into reality. His burning lungs gasped in the air that had been too long denied them. His torturers released him and he collapsed to the cold concrete, where he curled into a ball, soaking wet, coughing and shivering.

His lung power is impressive, but finite, said a male voice, dispassionate and clinical. He lasted almost four minutes before starting to black out.

What about cold tolerance? The second voice was female, and familiar, filling Alek with loathing.

As you can see, he’s clearly affected by it. His metabolism regulated his body temperature longer than that of the typical human under such conditions, but his tolerance is no match for ours.

Interesting. Esme’s heels clicked against the concrete as she approached him. She crouched beside him and tenderly stroked his brow. He had just enough strength left to flinch from her touch, prompting her to sigh. My dear boy, I’ll never understand why you did such a thing to yourself.

Alek coughed, expelling traces of water from his lungs. You wouldn’t, he managed between gasps and chattering teeth.

A soft exhalation came from her nose, a silent laugh. She stood. That’s enough for now. Clean him up. Balthazar wants to see him.

Yes, Mistress Esme, said the first voice. Her heels clicked away, the sound fading with distance, soon silenced by the sound of a closing door.

Two sets of heavy black boots appeared in his line of vision. You heard her, said a third voice. Strong and deep, but high enough to be feminine. Get up.

Cold, naked and weak from torture, Alek couldn’t comply if he wanted to—and he wanted to. Not that he wouldn’t defy them at every turn, but he’d had enough pain inflicted on him for one day, and more probably awaited him at the hands of Balthazar. He would be wise to choose his battles. So he gave it his best and tried to push himself up. He collapsed, splashing into the frigid water pooled beneath him.

The vampire guards grabbed him by the arms and hauled him to his feet. For the first time, he got a good look at his torturer. A tall, thin, brown-skinned vampire regarded him. He wore slicked back hair and round glasses which, with perfect vampire vision, were no doubt an affectation.

The white lab coat he wore might as well have been, too. Alek had met Dr. Suresh when all doctors and scientists in the vampire community were called together at the start of the zombie outbreak. The man had been a highly regarded neurosurgeon prior to his turning. But many highly regarded doctors and surgeons were high-functioning psychopaths and narcissists, in Alek’s experience. Becoming a vampire had stripped away whatever had restrained the human Suresh from acting on his darker impulses. Unlike Alek, Suresh clearly paid no heed to the oath he’d sworn to do no harm.

The guards held Alek in place while Suresh peeled wireless sensors off of his chest and back. Despite the high-tech equipment, the room looked more like a medieval dungeon than a laboratory, with dank stone walls surrounding a concrete floor. You make a fascinating subject, Dr. Konstantin. His voice held a slight trace of an East Indian accent, almost undetectable. I look forward to studying you further. He went to a nearby table and retrieved a towel and a set of pale blue hospital scrubs. He handed them to Alek. Dry yourself and put those on. He turned to one guard. When he’s finished, return him to his cell. With that, he exited the room, leaving the heavy door open behind him.

With no desire to spend the rest of his stay there naked and shivering, Alek did as he was told, although the thin scrubs provided little protection against the cold dampness of the dungeon. Once dressed, his guards escorted him through a stone corridor with a ceiling so low they almost needed to stoop to keep from brushing their heads against it.

He studied them as they went. The woman was a statuesque, Nordic-looking blonde who stood an inch or so taller than Alek, given his bare feet and her thick-soled boots. Her partner was taller, an African American with the body of a linebacker and a youthful face, barely out of boyhood when he’d been turned, by the looks of him. Both avoided eye contact—whether from indifference or a prick of conscience, Alek hoped to discover in time. Assuming he would have time.

They took him to another room, nearly identical to the one they’d just left, except this one was smaller. Instead of medical equipment it held but a single wooden chair and an empty bucket. He didn’t need to ask what the bucket was for. There was no cot. If he slept, it would be on the floor.

The guards shut him inside, and he turned to study the door. Made of thick steel, the top half held a small observation window, no doubt shatterproof. His stomach growled as he eyed a slot in the lower half that could accommodate a tray of food. Although he doubted those who displeased Balthazar enough to end up in there ate a diet of solid food—himself being an exception. He rubbed his stomach in a vain attempt to quell its complaints. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast the previous day, which accounted for much of his weakness and lightheadedness. As painful as his empty stomach felt, it was the heartache that came with remembering that last meal that made his knees go weak and forced him to sit.

Lowering himself to the chair, he vividly recalled holding the squirming baby in his lap while Hannah spooned cereal into his mouth, laughing at the boy’s obstinance as he spit the stuff back at her and made faces of protest. It was the last time they’d been together as a family before he and Hannah led their fellow hybrids out to destroy the swarm of shamblers that roamed the grounds of their camp.

Whatever Suresh and Esme may do to him, nothing could torture him as much as knowing he’d left Hannah bleeding in the woods, not knowing whether she’d made it nor what had become of Noah, or the knowledge that he didn’t protect his people, that Esme had brutally slaughtered every single human under his watch.

He had no time to shed tears before the door opened and Esme entered. Balthazar will see you now.

She led him through the stone corridor and up a modern staircase, with both the guards trailing behind them. They didn’t bother chaining him, which sent a message by itself. As strong as he was, he was no match for a full-fledged vampire. He wouldn’t be able to muscle his way out of this. He had to bide his time and keep his head, wait for the right opportunity to present itself.

The staircase led up to a large kitchen, decked out in contemporary white tile and stainless steel that bore a stark contrast to the dungeon below. Alek wondered what need vampires could have for such an elaborate kitchen until he spotted service staff unpacking blood bags from shipment crates stacked on a back counter. The weekly tithe to the Council from the prison camps, no doubt. But as they passed the ovens on their way through the kitchen, he caught a whiff of something that made his mouth water. His stomach gave off another loud groan.

Esme glanced back at him, her lips quirked up in wry amusement. How long can you go without eating?

I guess we’ll find out.

The kitchen let out into an opulent dining room lined with gold leaf wallpaper and marble tile the color of jade. A large crystal chandelier hung above a long, ornate wooden table that sat at least twenty. It was loaded with food. Alek didn’t let his gaze linger on it, but he spotted roast chicken and vegetables and an assortment of breads, fruits and cheeses. The smell of the chicken flooded his mouth with saliva. He swallowed hard to keep from drooling.

Balthazar sat at the head of the table. Have a seat, my boy. He indicated the place on his left. You must be famished. I take it you require this sort of nourishment since your transformation. He waved a hand over the fare spread out before him.

Alek obliged him by pulling out the chair and taking a seat. Esme seated herself across from him, at Balthazar’s right hand. I’m not hungry.

His stomach squealed with accusation, declaring him a liar.

Balthazar laughed. Come, son. We went to all this trouble for you. My hospitality doesn’t come with any strings attached.

I’m not your son.

No. Balthazar glanced at Esme, who watched them with a bemused expression. But you are my grandson, in a manner of speaking. He smiled. Alek supposed he meant it to appear kindly, like that of a loving grandfather, but it missed the mark. Balthazar was ancient—older even than Julia, who could barely even remember having been human. Any trace of humanity he’d once retained had been extinguished long ago. He gave the impression of something entirely other impersonating a human.

Alek suppressed a shudder. How many people are going hungry for this sham?

Balthazar chuckled. Food is plentiful, if you know where to look. Besides, would we starve our own livestock?

You no longer need them, now that you’ve synthesized their blood.

Yes, well. I’d love to know how you learned of that. Julia’s betrayal, I expect.

Julia didn’t betray you. She wasn’t given a choice.

And yet it wasn’t her hand that delivered you to me. He sighed, as though disappointed in an unruly child. Then he took the plate before Alek and heaped food upon it before setting it in front of Alek. Eat, boy.

Alek eyed the plate. Was this another form of torture? Or was the food drugged or poisoned?

As if aware of his suspicions, the elder vampire turned to Esme. Join him, my dear.

Esme grimaced at the food, but obediently prepared a plate for herself. Vampires could ingest food, but they couldn’t digest it. While they could enjoy the taste well enough, eliminating it was rarely worth it. At any rate, drugs in the food wouldn’t harm Esme, but they could definitely ruin her day.

She picked up a chicken wing and bit into it, glaring at Alek as she ate.

Alek sighed, resigned. He wouldn’t do himself, Hannah, or his cause any favors by succumbing to starvation. Picking up a fork, he dug in. At the first bite, his hunger took charge, and before he knew it he had cleaned his plate.

Balthazar watched with satisfaction. More?

No. Alek set his fork down and used the elaborately folded napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth. That’s quite enough, thank you.

Very well. Balthazar motioned to a servant in full butler’s regalia who stood nearby. He held up a silver goblet as the butler retrieved a crystal decanter from the sideboard. He brought it over and filled Balthazar’s cup, as well as Esme’s. The thick, coppery scent of blood assaulted Alek’s nostrils. Bring some wine for our guest. Balthazar looked at Alek. Would you prefer red or white?

Just water.

His host nodded. Very well. He sat back and drank from his goblet. Blood coated his upper lip when he set the cup down again. He ran his tongue over it and then dabbed it with a napkin.

Alek watched, not in fascination as much as hope. Only days before his camp had shipped a supply of blood laced with the cure to Council HQ. If luck would have it, Balthazar would transform before his eyes.

As if reading his mind, Balthazar smiled in amusement. Of course we destroyed the blood tithe from your camp.

Alek reached for the glass of water the butler set before him. Of course.

Balthazar drained his cup and handed it to the butler who whisked it away along with Alek’s plate. The vampire leaned forward, elbows resting on the table with his fingers laced together. And how are you feeling, now that you’ve had sustenance?

Better, Alek admitted.

Very good. I’d hate for hunger to cloud your mind while you answer my questions.

Alek barely suppressed a smirk. So, you think if you ply me with food and drink I’ll cooperate and tell you everything you want to know?

Balthazar unclasped his fingers and spread his hands wide, as if to say he’d been found out. It seemed worth a try. A hard hand hasn’t been working on you.

Alek raised the water to his lips, but stopped before drinking, and eyed it warily. It might  be laced with truth serum—Sodium Pentothal, or something else that would make him compliant and forthcoming. He set it on the table and met Balthazar’s gaze. What do you want to know?

Esme scoffed. If you think he’ll tell you the truth—

Balthazar silenced her with a simple gesture, never taking his eyes off of Alek. Tell me about this... this cure. How does it work?

I don’t know. Alek spoke honestly. I haven’t had time to study it. I only know that it does work.

By turning vampires and humans into creatures like yourself.

A hybrid of the two, yes.

Creating one race where there were once two living in opposition.

Yes. The serum has the potential to bring about peace between vampirekind and humankind.

By eliminating both?

By creating a race that’s impervious to this new virus that kills and then reanimates its victims.

My boy, it sounds as if you’ve stumbled upon the means for a worldwide utopia.

The sarcasm in Balthazar’s voice couldn’t be missed. I doubt that, said Alek. Whether a hybrid starts out as human or vampire, it still possesses human nature.

Esme snorted. For an eternal optimist, that’s a rather cynical outlook.

It’s realistic, said Alek. I’m not after utopia. I’m only out to level the playing field.

Tell me. Balthazar rubbed his hands together. How does it feel to be so nearly human?

It sounded like a sincere question, but Alek knew better. As much as he might hope for some spark of latent humanity within Balthazar to desire the cure, Alek knew when he was being toyed with.

It feels worth it.

Worth the deaths of your people? Of your little pet?

If you mean Hannah, she’s my wife. And she’s not dead. Across the table, Esme blanched at the declaration. She recovered, but not quickly enough that Alek didn’t see. And no. It’s not worth that. But the suffering, the vulnerability, the pain... it’s worth it all to have my life back.

Balthazar leaned back, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as he studied Alek. How interesting.

How many of you are there? Esme asked. Besides those I left locked up in the prison, that is?

A frisson of hope and fear tore through Alek. He suppressed a shiver and fought to keep his face neutral. He didn’t know she had taken prisoners. How long before they sent a team back to destroy them all? None. It sounds like you’ve managed to contain us.

Not all of you. Your... wife—she sounded as though she might choke on the word—is still MIA. And so is Julia.

Yes, I’d quite like to know the whereabouts of my wayward daughter, said Balthazar.

I don’t know. She left the prison of her own volition. That part was true. I have no idea where she was headed. That part was not. Nor had she left alone. Alek could only hope  her team made it to New Orleans with the vaccine.

He’s lying, said Esme.

Balthazar glanced her way. Are you certain?

She smiled, never taking her gaze off Alek. He thinks he’s a good liar. But he has a tell. I always know when he’s lying.

Balthazar leaned forward again, folding his arms on the table. You understand, don’t you boy, that I will discover everything I want to know? I had hoped to do it peacefully. But if you insist on harsher tactics, well. He leaned back again, gazing down his long nose at Alek, his expression almost sorrowful. That’s entirely on you.

If you say so.

Yes, well. I hope you enjoyed your meal. It will be your last for a good long while. Balthazar snapped his fingers, and the guards stepped forward. Take him away.

Alek stood. He eyed the rest of the food with regret, wishing he’d accepted that offer of a second helping. But as he followed his jailers back through the kitchen and toward the stairs, he felt satisfied. He’d discovered more information than he’d given away.

And they didn’t have Hannah. That one piece of news would sustain him better than any meal.

TWO

CHRIS PACED BACK AND forth in the narrow space between the cot and the chain-link fence. He couldn’t believe how he’d ended up there. Even harder to believe was the person responsible. The more he paced, the more frustrated and bewildered he became. Fueled by anger, he rushed up to the chain link and rattled it with both hands.

Can I speak to my father, please? The guard who stood by was either deaf or pretending not to hear. Hello! Tell my father I would like to speak to him!

Still no response from the guard. Chris might as well have been shouting into a tornado. He balled up a fist and pounded it against the fence, causing it to rattle all around him.

Sit down, boy. Julia lay on her cot with her eyes closed, as if this were a great opportunity to catch a nap. You’re not helping anything with this display.

This is stupid. Chris turned toward her and pointed to the tall fence that hemmed them in on all sides. You see how flimsy this thing is? We could tear it apart and be out of here in ten seconds.

That sounds like a good way to get shot, said Reynolds. Somehow, she’d gotten a deck of cards and was playing a game of solitaire on her own cot. She glanced up at Chris and jerked her chin toward the guard. You see that automatic rifle he’s holding? He could mow us down in seconds.

Chris looked to the rest of the team for support. Stephens stood at the opposite end of their pen, his back to the rest of them. That guy wouldn’t be any help. Besides, he’d never go against Julia. He looked to Celine. She gave him a sympathetic look, but kept quiet.

He returned to his cot and slumped onto it in defeat. Celine came over and sat next to him, taking his hand and squeezing it. I’m sorry.

You didn’t do anything.

No, I mean I’m sorry for what you must be going through. She released his hand and moved her arm behind him to rub small circles between his shoulder blades. Do you want to talk about it?

Chris shook his head, more from bewilderment than a reluctance to talk. I don’t understand it. All this time, my mom and I just assumed he was dead, but he’s been alive this whole time. And he seemed like he was glad to see me, but then he had us all put in here. He looked at her. He didn’t even hug me.

I imagine he’s afraid. She nodded toward the guard. They all are. We roll up looking just like vampires, but not—they don’t know what to make of us.

Afraid enough to lock up the son he thought was dead? At least that’s why I’m assuming he didn’t come back for us.

Celine didn’t say anything. She tucked her arm around his and laid her head on his shoulder, and sat with him in silence.

The outer flap of the large tent that housed them opened up and emitted two more soldiers, both armed with the same type of automatic weapon that the guard held. They marched past him and up to the gate of the pen. Chris recognized one of the men from the base they’d left behind, a private named Tucker. He spoke to Chris. The sarge will see you now.

As Chris and Celine both stood up, Tucker glanced at her and gave Chris a pointed look. Just you.

Celine squeezed his arm. Maybe now you’ll get some answers.

I’d better, he muttered, and approached the gate.

Julia sat up as he passed her cot. Mind what you tell them, boy. We don’t know their agenda.

He glanced her way, but said nothing. Once he reached the gate, the other guard stood back while Tucker opened it to let Chris through before locking the others inside. He nodded toward the tent flap. This way.

They escorted him across a gravel yard to a smaller tent. Tucker entered that tent and stepped inside. Sarge. Here’s the prisoner, as you instructed.

That’s my son you’re speaking about, private. Send him in.

Yes, sergeant. Tucker stepped back and waved Chris inside.

He stepped through the flap and found his father standing next to a makeshift desk made from milk crates and a sheet of plywood. He motioned to a chair. Sit down, son.

Chris planted his feet and squared his shoulders. I don’t feel much like sitting.

His dad’s shoulders drooped. He opened his mouth, then closed it, apparently struggling with what to say. Then he squared his shoulders again. I know you must have questions—

Gee, ya think?

And I’ll answer them. But first you need to answer mine.

Really? I don’t get to ask how you’re alive? Where the hell have you been? Why the first thing you did was stick me in a cage? These questions don’t get to come first?

Stubbornly, his dad pointed to a box on the desk, the case packed with vials of serum they’d brought with them from the prison. What is this?

Where did you get that?

We searched your truck. Answer my question.

You answer mine.

Christopher...

Chris sighed. It’s a vaccine.

What sort of vaccine?

The sort that keeps people from turning into zombies.

His dad blinked. Come again?

It’s a vaccine against the zombie virus. My friends and I were taking it to another of the vampires’ prison camps. We already liberated one camp. We’re hoping to repeat the process.

How does it work?

I don’t know. You’d have to ask the doctor who discovered it. But it works, trust me on that.

How do you know?

On account of I’m not a zombie.

His father walked up to him. Chris had evidently grown since the last time they’d stood face to face. It shocked him to have to look down to meet his gaze.

You took this vaccine?

More like it was given to me. I wasn’t in any condition to have a say.

You got bit?

Chris considered his answer. He’d downplayed the severity of what had happened to him with his mother, but he was in no mood to pull any punches for his father’s sake. More like halfway eaten.

Oh, God. Visibly shaken, his dad reached up to grip Chris by the shoulder. He resisted the temptation to jerk away. The sergeant gazed up into his eyes, studying them. Is that why you’re like this? Did the vaccine do this to you?

Do what?

His dad stepped back and waved his hands up and down at Chris. Make you... like that. You look like a vampire. What the hell are you?

Chris sighed. Celine was right. His father looked terrified. I’m a hybrid. All of the vampire resistance to the virus, some of their superhuman abilities. But believe me, we’re way more human than vampire.

Do you drink blood now? His face twisted in disgust.

No! I told you, I’m still human. I eat normal food, I can go out in the sun... I’m still me. God, Dad, is that why you locked us up? You’re afraid we’re going to feed on you?

I don’t know what the hell to think. All I know is, the Army has protocols for dealing with unknown entities and potential contagions. I’m following protocol.

Really? That’s what matters to you? You find out your son is alive and all you can think about is following protocol? Chris scoffed, but then eyed him with suspicion. Or did you already know me and mom survived?

Of course I didn’t know. Do you think I wouldn’t have moved heaven and earth to get back to you if I’d thought there was even a chance you’d made it?

I don’t know. Would you? How could you think there wasn’t a chance?

I did go back to the base. I took a recon team. We found the place overrun with hostiles. How could I know you’d gotten out? I mean, I hoped for it, but what else could I do?

We didn’t get out. We holed up in the old fort with the rest of the survivors and fought them off until help came.

What help?

Vampire help, believe it or not. He nodded toward the case of vaccinations. The same vampire who developed that vaccine.

You’re telling me a vampire created that and shot you up with it?

He’s a good guy. He saved my life, and a lot of other people’s.

You expect me to believe—

I expect you to shut up and listen! You don’t know what’s been happening. While you and your troops have been out here playing Rambo and shooting shamblers, mom and I have been on the front lines of the real war. And do you know what? We’re winning. ‘Cause guess what? He pointed at the vaccinations. That stuff cures vampires, too. It levels the playing field. It’s what will give humanity a chance to fight back.

His dad stared up at him. After a long moment, he turned and went to the desk, where he sat heavily in his chair. What humanity will be left if everybody becomes half-vampire?

It’s better than the current reality, don’t you think? Besides, not everyone has to take it. Not unless they want to.

His father remained silent a moment, gazing at the vaccine. Your mother, he asked after a long moment. Did she take it?

No.

He closed his eyes, his relief plain to see. How is she?

She’s safe. She was doing well when I left her. After another