A whirlwind of sand marched across the red desert, as Abraham Cortez plunged a steel-capped boot onto the vampire’s windpipe.
“You know something, it’s a real shame they don’t fight like they used to.”
He pushed down until its body convulsed under the pressure, then drew back an arm—a gesture that would see to the creature’s death. And what a death it would be at the hands of a Dusk Hunter: the only humans capable of eradicating their bloodsucking enemies.
What had previously been a vampire emissary en route to the great Sanctuary City of Hope, was now a butchered mess of bones crushed into the dunes of what had been Utah.
“You gon’ stand there and look pretty or kill the fuckin’ thing?” Joseph barked over his shoulder, waving his scanner sideways to catch a signal. As if that would work. “We got other shit to be doin’ already.”
Abraham contemplated his nails. “Where’s the fun in a quick death, Joey Boy?” He ground his heel some more and smeared the thick blood clots into the rocky soil.
With much of the vampire’s energy spent, all it could muster was a strangled plea.
“Abe,” Vincent, the leader of their group, warned. His stomach churned at the creature’s useless begging.
With a sigh, Abraham latched on to the vampire’s skull, twisted his fingers through the locks of auburn hair, and then heaved. The head ripped clean off and sent strands of blood and arteries spitting through the evening air.
The vampire flapped like a fish out of water as tarmac-like residue pissed from its neck.
“Happy?” Abraham eyed Vincent closely, a lopsided grin tugging at his bearded cheeks.
Vincent spared him a curt nod of approval. His best friend had often toyed with his prey like that, but it was nothing compared to what he used to do with them.
Joseph stretched up from the sand, his knee pads crackling and waved his scanner again. “That was our first ‘sucker in a week. Where the fuck are they hiding?”
“Beats me,” Abraham said. “But it sure as hell gives us a break, don’t it?”
Joseph’s expression darkened. “It also gives them a fresh meal elsewhere.” He looked to Vincent. “We should head farther out.”
“That’s suicide.”
“No, Abe, it’s called hunting. You ever actually tracked one of these ugly motherfuckers? Or d’you just wave your pretty axe around like a blind fuckin’ logger?”
“Enough.” Vincent fixed his gaze on the government shelter in the distance. “Our duty is to protect our group. There are other hunting groups out there. We cover our own.”
“And should the vampires overrun those other groups?” Joseph countered, his dark skin reddening with his contempt. “What then?”
Abraham released his boot from the still-twitching vampire and spat onto its corpse. “We fight them.”
Vincent nodded. At least Abe wasn’t entirely useless; though just like with his prey, he enjoyed teasing Joseph too much. But Vincent’s brother-in-law, who’d had the balls to marry his sister, Violet, had voiced a wise concern. If their preliminary groups were to be overrun, Vincent would be left with no other choice but to move his family into Sanctuary Hope—the Utopia city run by the nobles.
Hell if he was going to let that happen. Not unless he had no other alternative.
“I still think we should group together,” Joseph groused, tapping at the screen of his scanner.
Vincent side-eyed his fellow hunter. “We cover more bases this way. You know Cadmus’s rules. We only hunt when necessary. When someone goes looking for trouble, Joe, they bring it back. Do you want to keep our family safe from these ‘suckers or not?”
Joseph remained silent. Of course he wanted to but he also thought he knew better than Vincent, which had begun to grate on his nerves. Yet he was a seasoned hunter and an expert tracker—when he could get his damn scanner to work. Not to mention, he was also married to Violet, which by default made him a part of their hunting group.
Vincent missed his sister’s presence during their hunts. She’d always been their eyes and ears, and what an exceptional pair they were. But he’d rather she stayed with the family, at the shelter, than risking damage to the near-fatal wound she’d gained from her last hunt. While there was no better feeling in the world than killing a bloodsucker, the result wasn’t worth losing a member of their group.
Cadmus, Vincent’s eldest uncle, had trained the senior Dusk Hunters himself prior to setting up base in Montana. When faced with a vampire coven, their twenty senior hunters may have appeared mediocre, but their competence was not something to be easily underestimated. With five of the senior hunters based at the shelter, Vincent’s group certainly was not to be undervalued.
“We should head back,” announced Abraham, jutting his chin toward the sky. “There’s another storm coming and it ain’t gonna be pretty.”
Vincent’s dark, shoulder-length hair lifted on the grainy wind. His gaze roamed over the scarlet heavens: the clouds had been sombre and black a few minutes ago, now they closed in quickly and had adopted a strong hue of red sherbet. The district had been scoured for any potential threats, and the only vampire for several miles had been eradicated. Their job there was done.
“Then let’s go.” Vincent sheathed his katana. “Keep your eyes peeled for any other movements. These bastards enjoy playing tricks on us. It’s all a game to them. Never forget that, boys.”
“As if you’d let us,” Abraham said, following in his wake.
“You’re catching on real quick, Abe. Only took you twenty years.”
Abraham clipping the side of Joseph’s overgrown head brought a smile to Vincent’s cheeks.
As they trudged through the red desert and back to their shelter, Vincent found his ten-year-old son, Noah, and his nephew, Emory, at the front entrance.
“No, no, no. You’re doing it all wrong.”
Emory dropped down from the makeshift wall and grabbed the gun from Noah’s hands. With a nine-year age gap, he towered over Noah considerably.
“You need to aim it at your target, not the sky. If you keep holding it like that the ‘suckers will kill you and drink all your blood, you hear?”
“But I’m trying, Emory. It’s just so heavy,” Noah argued, and his sweet voice warmed Vincent’s heart.
“I assume you’re manning the entrance properly, boys?”
At the sight of Vincent, both of them straightened to attention. Emory gripped the gun more accurately at his side and parted his chapped lips, though Noah spoke first.
“Sorry, Dad. Emory promised to train me while you were away. I’m getting much better!”
“Thanks, Noah. Rat me out why don’t you.” Emory rolled his jade eyes and blew a sigh into his shaggy, blond hair. “We were just playing around. The area’s been clear since that ‘sucker was sighted.”
Vincent folded his arms and puffed out his chest. “I don’t mind you teaching Noah some moves, Emory, but not while you’re on guard duty. There could be more sightings—a whole coven of them—quicker than you could shit your pants.”
Emory dropped his gaze, his attention averted to the floor. “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Vincent’s softened his expression, but he needed to get his message across. “You’ll soon be joining our hunts, and I want you focused at all times.” His eyes fell on his son, who also stared at the ground. The shattered concrete was apparently far more interesting than Vincent, or Joseph, who crawled through the entrance. “As for you, son. You’ll one day be our leader. If you plan to protect us, you’ve got to hold the gun like this.”
Vincent unhooked his own gun from his leather holster, made sure the safety lock was on, and then positioned it at eye level. He handed the gun to Noah, whose identical sapphire eyes glistened with excitement.
Noah had always been smaller than the other children, which presented him as an open target. So from a young age, Vincent had concentrated hard on training him in combat. For eight years straight, the boy had improved massively, and perhaps Vincent was biased, but Noah had outdone all the others in combat training. With a keen eye for detail, extraordinary reflexes, and compassionate nature—from his mother’s side, of course—he would make an exemplary leader.
And Emory a worthy lieutenant.
Pride swelled into Vincent. He watched Noah unload and reload his Colt with a look of fascination so alike his own. Emory supervised him closely, his hands gently positioning Noah’s shoulders as he murmured instructions into his ear.
With Abraham now on guard duty, Vincent made his way to the steel entrance. He dipped under the roller doors and acclimated to a tunnel shuttered in darkness. Water dripped from the rusted pipework overhead, and the passage was constructed so narrowly that Vincent’s head scraped on the ceiling. The hairs on the nape of his neck bristled. While the industrial lighting had flickered when the Dusk Hunters left at sunset, now they were shut down. Why had they been turned off?
Vincent strained his ears, though, to his confusion, he heard nothing. To be on the safer side, he wrapped a calloused hand around the silver guard of his katana. His pulse quickened, and he prepared to unsheathe his sword when the wind was driven from his lungs. His feet skidded backward, and he collapsed onto the ground, smacking his head against the earth. Strong legs wrapped around his chest, pinned him to the ground, and for a split second, Vincent prepared to retaliate.
“You’d think after six years here you’d have realized it was me, Vin.” His wife’s hot breath fanned down Vincent’s cheeks. “Or was this just an excuse to have me tangled around you?”
“Maybe it was.” Vincent raised a hand and gently groped for Bella’s body. He cupped her face and pulled her down to meet his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. “As always, I kept my promise. I ain’t dead yet, sweetcheeks.”
“Good. Otherwise, I’d have brought you back and killed you myself.” Bella released Vincent and pushed up onto her toes.
Once he had straightened and dusted himself off, he grabbed onto Bella’s waist and brought her close. “You should be more careful,” he said, his voice turning sharper. “Think of the baby.”
“I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”
He could visualize her pouting at him with her hands on her hips.
“At any rate, I was watching you with the boys. You are too hard on Emory, Vin.”
They reached the end of the tunnel, and Bella switched on the lights again.
“It’s my job to be.”
“And I get that, Big Guy. You forget I was trained by Cadmus, too, but just… Go easy on him tomorrow? For me? It’s his first hunt, and he’s downright terrified. I’m downright terrified.”
“If he’s anything like his old man, the kid will do fine,” Vincent reassured her.
They arrived at the second entrance. Vincent held his palm against the padlock, and the steel shutters rolled to the side. Light bled into his eyes, casting a strong amber glow around the Hudsons. Bella, with her braided blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and the same stubbornness as their son, filled Vincent with a strong sense of longing. Not to mention her carrying their unborn child.
At four months pregnant, she had gone through a lot of shit with their daughter, Florence, being stillborn a few years gone. The trauma had almost broken her—broken them both—but no matter what, they had refused to let the world harden them like it had done with so many others.
Bella and Noah were his worlds.
After a long night of hunting, he wanted to wrap his arms around them and never let them go.
His family.
But he had work to do; planning for their next hunt hardly occurred overnight.
They emerged into the main section of the shelter. The bland walls and concrete ceiling stretched as far as the eye could see. Compact bunkers and tattered mattresses littered the wide expanse of the floor, with training facilities, a canteen, and a game room for the children located at the back.
The shelter wasn’t much but it was safe.
It was home.
And with many of the forty survivors being female, elderly, or children, they really needed that to remind themselves that not all hope was lost.
That not all humanity had been destroyed.
“I think your brother would be proud of Emory.” Bella twisted an arm around Vincent’s shoulder and rested her head against him. “And of you, Vin.”
Vincent smiled at that. He certainly hoped his late brother was proud of all that had transpired since his death four years ago. When a day in the field had ended in tragedy for both Xavier and his wife, Penelope, their son and four-month-old daughter had looked to Vincent as their father figure.
Doing so was common, with how the world had been sliced into ribbons and tossed into a global warming shitstorm. The Collapse made sure of that.
Six years ago, when the Cold Recession hit and resulted in an influx of global catastrophes, the world turned to shit and the survivors clung to scraps.
If Vincent could train more Dusk Hunters to protect them, there wasn’t a sacrifice he wasn’t willing to make. He was hard on Emory because it was an imperative part of his training. Bella hadn’t been a hunter since Noah had been born, thus perhaps she had forgotten what it was like. Or that their numbers out in the field were declining, and soon Vincent would be forced to look for help elsewhere. Hope…
In any case, tomorrow was Emory’s day to finally prove himself.
Vincent just hoped the boy was ready.
“Oh, there you are, Hudson. I thought you had gone off and died.” Old Juna Waters cornered Vincent at the entrance, and Bella shot him a sly grin. The old woman dragged a liver-spotted hand through her long, wiry gray hair and tilted her head back, forcing her sooty eyes to enlarge beneath half-moon spectacles. She just about reached Vincent’s waist in height. “Joseph came back and he’s already with Violet, going over tomorrow’s hunt. I have some cake for you. Gingerbread. Your Noah requested it, and you should better enjoy eating it because Claire helped me with this one. Blood, sweat, tears, and maybe some child snot.”
Vincent raised a scarred eyebrow, but the old timer held up a hand to preempt him.
“A joke. Anyways, you know I always make a cake for you coming back. Me being so old and frail—don’t give me that look, Isabella, I’ll be six feet under in a few years’ time, and it doesn’t come as a shock to anyone—I want to do something to help. Even if it’s succumbing to little Noah’s requests. Where is the boy?”
“Emmy? Is that you?” Claire piped up, emerging from the bunkers with her white cane swinging from side to side.
“Oh, Claire Bear, there you are. I was just telling your aunt and uncle about the cake.”
“Do you like it, Uncle Vin? Bella?”
Finding her way to them, Claire paused next to Bella, who wrapped her arms around the child in a motherly hold. For such a small and frail child, Claire had survived the vampire attack that had taken her parents—even if the onslaught had left her permanently blind. Bella had cared for Claire as though she were her own. In a world where darkness prevailed every second, the child warmed the hearts of many, and for Bella Hudson, she had filled the void left by Florence Rose.
“He’s with Abraham and Noah, darling girl.” Bella ruffled Claire’s soft pigtails and beamed at her. “They’re doing some training by the entrance. The cake sounds delicious. And you helped to bake it, too? That’s so amazing.”
“I did! I did! Do you think it will taste as good? It has raisins in it. I don’t like raisins, but Mommy used to. Didn’t she?”
“Yes. And I’ve no doubt it will taste delicious,” Juna said, “since you helped to bake it. It will taste like a unicorn’s pi… Well, it will taste divine, is what I’m saying. It’s the last of my baking soda until the next scavenge,” she added, sparing the cake a longing glance. “No matter. At least we’ve got plenty of toilet roll. I also hear there’s a sandstorm coming. Perhaps I can have Bill heat up some water? I might even have enough tea for us all. What do you say?”
Bella cupped her hands, smiling. “Oh, tea and cake sound wonderful.”
Vincent smiled and squeezed Bella’s shoulder. “You really outdo yourself here, Juna.”
“Nonsense. All I can do is cook, even before the world went mad. Now, I’ll send our Bill to fetch the boys. He’s doing nothing constructive. Come on, Claire Bear. You can keep an old lady company.”
“Will you let me lick the icing bowl, Lady Juna?”
“Maybe. Once I’ve had my fair share of licking, too, young child.”
At that, Juna and Claire waddled toward the other side of the bunker, leaving Bella and Vincent at the entrance.
“I hope one day we’ll be able to leave here and get new supplies,” Bella said, dragging Vincent up the metal staircase leading to their private quarters.
The hunters had kept a section of the bunkers to themselves on the first floor. With the windows gazing out into the Wastelands, it gave them a good focus for spotting any intruders.
“One day, Bumblebee. The more suckers we wipe out here, the quicker we can move.”
“We’re supposed to move states every six months. We’ve been here six years. Since the beginning.”
Well, she had a point, and Vincent couldn’t blame her restlessness. They had been based in Old Utah longer than anticipated. It was healthy to move around and cover other districts, but…
“Has there been any word from Cadmus?”
The various voices echoing around the shelter carried to Vincent’s ears. He could hear his people resting in their bunkers or training at the gun center below Vincent’s bunker. He passed his sister, hunched over the conference table, with Joseph peering over her shoulders. She was pointing at an old map, deep in thought, and waved at Vincent as he passed.
Bella shook her head. “What do you think, babe? I’ve been messaging him every day. Zilch. Nada. We haven’t heard anything in six years. Why would today be any different?”
“It will come.” Vincent trailed a finger down her back and paused at the lean bump wedged between them. He pressed a hand softly to her stomach. “As will you, little guy.”
“Or girl.” Bella quirked an eyebrow. “I can just…feel it. And don’t give me that look, Vincent Hudson. I’m not crazy. Yet.”
All joking aside, pain stabbed at Vincent’s chest. He knew Bella felt it, too, whenever they thought of their daughter, Florence Rose…
He steered Bella onto their double mattress laid out on the linoleum floor. Their bed had been decorated with a myriad of fairy lights, candles, and blankets that smelled of home. The belongings were the only remnants they had of their life before the weather wiped out many of their race. Since then, mankind’s only salvation had been to enter a glorified Sanctuary City.
There remained a slim chance of making it out in the Wastelands. But the hunters clung to that. If only Cadmus would make contact with them…
“Do I ever tell you that I love you?”
Bella rolled her eyes at him, a light blush tickling her freckled cheeks. “All the friggin’ time. Easy on the corny stuff, Vin. What’s come over you? Are you feeling okay?”
He snorted. “I guess I’m becoming sentimental with old age.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Besides, now we’re finally alone.”
“Ooh, the big bad clingy wolf has gone to bed now, has he? How fortunate for me!” She giggled and threw back her head.
Bella had never been the cuddling type whenever they were alone. Eleven years married, she’d become rather coy when it was just the two of them, a trait Vincent had found endearing since their high school days. Bella had been the quiet girl with her nose stuck in a book, and Vincent the cliché quarterback. He’d literally fallen in love with her at first sight.
“One day, we will get out of here. We’ll have a huge ranch again, a white picket fence I’ll remember to paint, and the fancy flower pots you used to have, and chickens and—”
“Just shut up and kiss me, Vincent Hudson.”
Bella grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him down. But before their lips could meet, Vincent’s receiver went off inside his back pocket.
“Vin. You better come see this,” Joseph reported.
He pushed off his wife and tugged out the receiver. “What is it? I’m in the middle of something, damn it.”
“This…this is urgent.” His normally firm voice cracked with something akin to uncertainty. “I’m not sure what it is, but it’s fucking urgent.”
Vincent shoved his receiver back into his pocket and closed his eyes. Why was it they always needed him whenever he was with Bella or taking a piss?
“Go on.” Bella nudged his shoulder. “They need you. I’ll wait here.”
“Sit real tight, Bumblebee.”
“By the time I get my ass off this mattress, you’ll be back anyways. Just go.”
He grinned and headed back the way he’d come, pausing at the office, where Violet and Joseph pressed against the window.
“What is it?” he demanded.
Violent lifted a hand to her mouth, her lavender hair falling over her broad shoulders. “That’s my line. Look over there…”
Vincent grabbed binoculars from the conference table and gazed out the window. The telescopes fixed on the Wastelands, abandoned, with nothing but endless dunes, saguaros, and Sanctuary Hope’s city wall raised far from the ground. A lone tornado stomped across the dunes. The lens focused on what appeared to be a mirage.
“Abraham, you seeing this?” Joseph whispered into the receiver.
“Sure as shit I’m seeing it,” Abe replied, his static voice crackling.
“What do you think it is?” Violet muttered, more to herself than anything. She picked up a second pair of binoculars and looked to the horizon.
“Vampires,” Vincent said, swallowing. “Gather the remaining hunters. We’re under attack.”