Players and Pawns
(Section 1, Part 1)
by Daniel Jay
The
man lay in a state of passive consciousness. Awake, but lacking the
will to interact0with his environment. Such was the life of this
being who had lived for nearly three and a half millenniums. It wasn't
always like this, though. He was once the ruler of all he saw, and
beyond.
That all changed nearly three
thousand years ago. The victim of his own pride and arrogance, he
was banished from his land. Banished to this new land where he was
nearly rendered powerless. The humans no longer stood in a mixture
of awe and fear when confronted with the site of him. They no longer
trembled at the very mention of his name. He missed that.
He would have it all back,
though. Oh yes, he was sure of it. Since he arrived in this
new land, he had been steadily preparing. Gathering his forces as
discretely as he could. The outside world knew nothing of him, and
that was the way he wanted it. When the time came to confront the
Slayer and her Watcher, the slaughter would prove to be an easy feat.
Blinded sheep against the wrath of a lion.
Only one person in this world
worried him. The one person who would be blessed with the ability
to destroy him. His counterpart, his adversary.
A smile etched across his
pale lips. He felt it. The plane had been changed! The
time for preparation was over. It was now a time for action.
And
soon, the world would tremble at his feet.
* * * *
Section One - The Cleansing
By all accounts, it was nearly
a picture perfect day in Sunnydale. The sun was shinning brightly, the
birds were singing, there was a crisp wind in the air. Everything
was wonderful... except for the musky feeling in the air.
This had been a busy day
for Fire Chief Williams, or Big Willy to his buddies. Six. That was
the number of fires that were reported on this July morning. The first,
an abandoned warehouse which was set ablaze at the crack of dawn. Numerous
others soon followed, so now the Sunnydale Fire Department was being stretched
to it's limit.
Knock. Knock.
Williams's head moved up
from the paperwork on his desk. Through the slightly opened blinds
on his door, Williams saw that it was Olson. A hard worker, but still
an obnoxious little prick. Olson was the kind of guy who saw himself
as the next Fire Chief, and knowing the world, Williams knew it would probably
happen.
Williams raised his hand
and waved him in. Olson opened the door and walked in with his usual
cocky swagger. He sat down in front of the desk with a plop.
< Why don't you whip out
you're dick why you're at it, > Williams thought.
"What do you want Olson?
In case you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of a little crisis here,"
Williams said, continuing to work on his paperwork.
"That's what I've come to
talk to you about, sir. There's another one."
Williams put down his pen
and began to massage his temple with both his hands. "Where?"
"An old apartment building
near City Hall. I'm afraid we had a few civilian casualties."
"F***," Williams said harshly.
"I knew our luck couldn't last. Goddamn arsonists couldn't stick with abandoned
buildings forever."
"There is a bit of good news,
sir," Olson said, his voice a little more upbeat.
"Yeah. What's that,"
Williams asked.
"We got two eyewitnesses
on this one."
Williams raised an eyebrow.
"What did they say?"
"Two Caucasian males.
One with black hair, the other blond. Witnesses saw them pull up to the
building in a white van and deliver a briefcase to the front door.
As soon as they left, boom."
"License plate?"
"Nope," Olson said flatly.
"So we're looking for two
white guys in Sunnydale. Where are we going to find those," Williams
said, the sarcasm oozing out of his mouth.
"It's a start sir.
And with backup coming in from all over the county, we should be able to
handle whatever they throw at us."
"I suppose. I suppose."
* * * *
At this moment, Buffy Summers
felt happier that she had in the past few months. But there was a reason
for that. She was dreaming.
Back in familiar surroundings,
the Bronze, she danced in her lover’s arms. The man who embodied
some of the best, and worst, moments of her life. Her sweet, sweet
Angel.
Alone on the dance floor,
he caressed her gently. Swaying side to side ever so slightly.
The music from the band echoed her mood. It was safe,
secure, and most of all, confident. Confident that her love for
this man would overcome all obstacles.
Overcome the fact that true
happiness would cost him his soul. Overcome the fact that he may never
die, and her lifespan, by history, was relatively short. And finally,
overcome the fact that they would never have a normal life. That
it would always be filled with conflict, triumph, and most of all, tragedy.
But like all good things,
this too had to end. Slowly the images became more and more distorted.
Until eventually, she was awake.
"Buffy."
"Mmmm," Buffy grumbled.
"Let me sleep, Dad. It's too early."
"Buffy." The voice
sounded more forceful.
Sluggishly, Buffy opened
her eyes. Expecting to see her father before her, she did not.
The stranger stood tall beside
her bed, faintly illuminated by the light shinning through the blinds.
He was dressed in a dark robe, similar to a monk’s. His head was
clean shaven and looked around Buffy's age.
Raising his right hand, Buffy
could see he was holding something. A piece of paper.
"You're needed back in Sunnydale,"
he said, placing the paper on her nightstand. Once done, he turned and
walked from which he came.
Buffy sat up in her bed.
"Wait a second," she said with an annoyed tone. "Who the hell are
you?"
He stopped walking abruptly
and turned around. Looking Buffy dead in the eye, he said, "My purpose
is to warn you. I can't say anything more."
Finished, he opened the door and closed it quietly behind himself.
Buffy sat in her bed, partially
covered in her blankets, with a confused look on her face. < Okay.
That was weird. >
No sooner that she finished
her thought, the door opened again. Buffy braced herself, unsure
of what to expect. But it was for nothing. Her father, Hank
Summers, stood in the doorway, looking extremely chipper.
"You're up early," he said,
still smiling. "It's only 9:45. I thought you'd still be sleeping."
Buffy felt baffled.
"You didn't just see a bald guy walk out of my room? A little taller
than me. Looked kind of sad," she added.
Hank now shared his daughter's
puzzlement. "No I didn't. Maybe you were dreaming," he said.
After all, it was the most logical explanation.
"I don't think so,"
Buffy said, grabbing the piece of paper. She unfolded it and read
it carefully. "Dad, I got to get back to Sunnydale."
* * * *
Willy let out a vicious sneeze.
< F***in smoke. >
Since the school burnt down
and the Mayor was killed, business had been slow for Willy. Less
demons saw Sunnydale as "the place to be", or lost confidence in certain
areas of life. Namely, knowing that you wouldn't be killed by the
Slayer if you decided to go out amongst the humans. There was nothing
like the death of another leader to lower moral in the vampire ranks.
That meant Willy had to explore new areas to maintain an income.
Luckily, Willy didn't have to wait long, or even look for that matter.
He remembered the day in
great detail. It was around two weeks after the Ascension.
The sun was shinning and it had reached 87 degrees
Fahrenheit (not abnormal for California). Willy had just resolved
to undertake new ventures. That's when the stranger came to see him, Naeem.
A big black fellow who said he'd been told Willy could help him out.
"What kind of help?"
"Nothing that a man in your
position can't handle. Information of the demonic persuasion.
And did I mention that you would be well compensated for your time?"
Well compensated was a bit
of an understatement. 200 grand for info on Sunnydale, something
Willy had in spades. Naeem said he'd be back in a few days, and when
he did, Willy was ready. Sewage plans, maps showing every nest, vampire
or otherwise, in Sunnydale. Histories of every major player in Sunnydale,
even the dead ones! Willy had even impressed himself.
But today he was questioning
the validity of his actions. The past two days, Willy had been hearing
rumors. Rumors that a group of humans were striking nests outside
of Sunnydale. That every kind of demon that went up against them
was killed.
At first, Willy dismissed
them as just that, rumors. Besides, even if they were true, it didn't
really affect him. Those demons in the outskirts rarely came into
town. And even if they did, it was even rarer that they came to his
establishment.
But now local vampires were
being targeted. Listening to the radio, Willy knew of the fires,
and the importance of their locations. Every nest that
Willy knew of had been destroyed by these unknown arsonists.
Willy had a feeling of who it was. The real question was why.
The only thing they would gain would be sending a lot of pissed off vampires
out of their homes.
The complete lack of business
this morning gave Willy ample time to ponder this question. That
was of course, until now.
The door to the bar swung
open. "It's a scorcher out there." Not that the man seemed
to mind, though. His voice was fairly jolly.
Willy's eyes widened.
"Naeem. What are you doing here?"
"I was in town, so I decided
to visit my favorite bartender. It's really hot out there," he said,
wiping his brow with a handkerchief.
"That wardrobe isn't helping,"
Willy said. Naeem's clothes consisted of a leather jacket, jeans,
and a shirt, all black.
Naeem looked himself over.
"That's true, but I don't feel comfortable in anything else." He
looked over to Willy and smiled. "Come and have a drink with me,"
he said, motioning to a table. "My treat."
Willy was hesitant.
His previous thoughts still crowded his mind. "Sure." He grabbed
two glasses. "What do you want?"
"Just a beer."
Willy put the glass under
the tap and turned the handle. Naeem made his way to a table and
sat down, facing Willy. This didn't sit well with the bartender.
He felt as if he was being stalked in the jungle by a prowling tiger.
< I'm not that interesting.
>
With the beers filled, Willy
walked around the counter and made his way over to the table. He
placed the beers on the table and sat across from Naeem.
Naeem picked up his beer.
"Here's to good friends." Willy was silent, not sure what to make
of the situation. Naeem sipped the beer slowly, savoring every drop.
He placed the beer back on the table. "Why aren't you drinking?"
Willy shrugged. "I'm
not thirsty."
"Don't make me waste my money."
Naeem's tone was lined with
anger. That scared Willy. Willy looked into Naeem's eyes.
< Intense. >
Willy picked up his beer
and placed the rim of the glass on his lips. Naeem looked on earnestly.
Willy tipped the glass back and gulped the beer.
Finished, he placed the half empty glass on the table. The tension
subsided.
"That wasn't so hard, was
it." Naeem took another sip of his beer. "Now I'm not insulted."
Willy looked at Naeem inquisitively. He had come to the decision
that this man was quite volatile. "You got to love beer. You
know, this is the first beet that I've had in a while."
"Why's that?" Willy asked.
Truthfully, he didn't care, but he didn't want to make this guy angry.
"My boss frowns on it.
He says I have to keep a clear and focused mind. That's actually
the reason I'm here. My boss, that is. He wants to meet you."
Willy flinched. Naeem looked over to the door. He shouted, "Hey Galina,
bring him in!"
Through the doors came a
vision. Willy's ultimate fantasy come to life. The woman's
blond hair flowed to a few inches below her shoulders. Her face was
flawless, as was the rest of her body.
"That's my girl, Galina,"
Naeem said proudly.
Galina stepped off to the
side of the door. Behind her was a man who struck Willy as a bodybuilder.
Dressed in a dark, hooded shroud, he looked at Willy. Willy felt
a chill run up his spine.
"Sorry about this, Willy."
"Huh?" Willy turned
back to Naeem just as he threw his knife. It landed square in his
chest, sending him sprawling onto the floor.
< Sh**. >
Willy lay with his back to
the ground, staring at the ceiling. Entering his field of vision was Galina,
who looked gleeful. She bent over and pulled the knife out of Willy.
He let out a brief grunt as it left his body.
"No loose ends, Willy," Galina
said.
Willy looked at her with
docile eyes. Galina smiled as she brought the knife down into Willy's
heart.
* * * *
Crusing 80 miles per hour
down the highway, Buffy Summers could be heard singing, "I I I I I I wannaa
beeee, anarchy!"
< At least my dad bought
a cool car during his mid-life crisis. >
A cool car indeed.
A brand new, 99 mustang. Cherry red, standard transmission, leather
interior. And best of all (from Buffy's perspective), a CD player
with decent CD's!
The Sex Pistols, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Nazareth, Credence Clearwater
Revival. All the best bands of the 60's and 70's. The only
dark spot was Jefferson Airplane, but it was to be expected. All
parents have to own some bad CD's.
Passing another car, Buffy
turned down the stereo. Out of her rear view mirror, Buffy could
see the driver of the car making an obscene gesture with his middle finger.
Even though she knew he couldn't see, she returned the gesture.
< Might as well try again.>
After pressing speaker on
the cellular phone, attached to the midsection of the interior, Buffy dialed
Giles's number. Three rings later, the phone was answered.
"Hello?" Though groggy,
Buffy could recognize the voice. It was Xander.
"Hey Xander, what are you
doing at Giles's so early?"
"The big man is paying me
to help him sort out all his books." Xander paused. "I can't
believe he fit all his books from the library in here."
"Where is Giles," Buffy interjected.
"Don't know. The place
was empty when I got here." Xander yawned. He was dead tired.
"Well find him if you can.
I'm coming back to Sunnydale."
"Why?" Xander asked.
He sounded more alert than before.
"Some guy showed up in my
bedroom and gave me a message. I figure he's a demon like Whistler,"
she added.
"What did he say?"
"He left a note saying, "Main
and Third. Noon." I should be there in time."
"Want me to wait there for
you?" Xander asked. Buffy knew that he would rather be in the
"field" than the "office", but it was safer there.
"No. Stay there, wait
for Giles, and do some research. Maybe there's something special
about that spot, or the time for that matter."
"Yeah, and maybe it has something
to do with the fires."
Buffy winced. "What
fires?"
"Oh yeah," Xander said, realizing.
"You don't know about them. A lot of buildings have been burnt to
the ground. Mostly abandoned ones."
< Abandoned... vampires!
>
"Start researching now."
It wasn't intentional, but Buffy's voice had an urgency to it. "I'll
call Willow to go over to help you."
"Hey," Xander said.
He had just changed the topic of the conversation. "Have you talked
to Willow lately?"
"No. Why?"
"She's been acting very strange
these past few days. So has Oz. I think something bad is going
on between them."
< That's odd, > Buffy
thought. What could be wrong. And if it was serious enough
to warrant Xander's suspicions, why wouldn't Willow call her and talk about
it. They told each other everything, didn't they?
"I'm sure she and Oz are
fine," Buffy said.
"I guess." Buffy could
tell that she didn't sway Xander's opinion at all.
"I'll call her right now.
You get cracking."
With that, she hung up the
phone, and began dialing Willow Rosenberg's phone number.
* * * *
Unknown to many residents,
beneath Sunnydale were many underground dwellings. Sewers and rock
formations, seemingly carved by the hand of god. To some, these miles
of tunnels represent one thing, a home. Through recent events, these
burrows became quite crowded. This caused tension in this small community
to mount.
"You're f**kin crazy man!"
Steve exclaimed. "KoRn is a hell of a lot better than Limp Bizkit!"
"Did you even listen to "Significant
Other". It kicks ass!" Everett rebutted. "It's not just yelling
like "Follow the Leader". It has diversity."
"In other words, lots of
soft pussy sh**."
"F**k you man." Everett
looked over to Vlad. "Who do you like man?"
"I'm a Dave Matthews Band
man, myself," Vlad said, from his makeshift bed made out of discarded pieces
of clothing.
Steve and Everett looked
at each other. "Pussy," they declared in unison.
"Jesus Christ, don't you
guys ever shut your traps!" Fran yelled, as she stood up. "For the past
two hours I've been sitting here, listening to you
dickless wonders argue about nothing!" Fran stopped yelling.
She sighed. "I'm surprised you finally got off that Megatron-Galvatron
debate."
"Megatron rules," Everett
announced.
"Shut up ass licker.
Galvatron killed Starscream. He rules."
"Yeah, but Megatron killed
Octimus Prime. Starscream was a pussy." Everett crossed his arms
around his chest as he embraced a smug smile, declaring himself triumphant.
"Wankers!" Fran screamed
in frustration. Walking down the tunnel, she yelled, "I'm going to
see what Jimmy and his non-shite eating friends are doing!"
"Sure you don't want to give
me a blow job first?" Steve asked Fran loudly, merely to prove her.
It worked, and a backwards peace sign was her response (British equivalent
of the finger).
Steve looked at Everett.
"British chicks are sexy."
"Damn rights," Everett agreed.
"Hey." Steve shimmied
over to where Everett was sitting. "When are you going to eat?"
Steve's eyes glanced to the woman bound further up the tunnel. "I'm
getting the craving."
Everett looked at Steve with
deadpan eyes. "Nope."
"WHY THE F**K NOT!?" Steve
shrieked at the top of his lungs.
Everett looked cool and composed.
He was unfazed by his friend’s anger. "I'm not hungry yet.
And you know I like my necks fresh when I eat."
"Will you guys shut up,"
Vlad asked, though slightly muffled by the hat covering his face.
"Shut up you commie bastard,"
Steve said, still infused with anger. Vlad was silent. Steve turned
his attention back to his friend. Looking deep into his eyes, Steve
studied Everett's mood. There wasn't a hint of intimidation.
"Sh*t," Steve mumbled to himself. He then got to his feet and made
his way down the tunnel, passing the frightened woman. "I'll get
my own damn food!"
Everett smiled. He
looked over to his Russian friend. The man lay covered by his moth
eaten coats, as always. Everett stood up and walked over to the woman.
She was awake, but not moving of speaking. An entire roll of duct
tape saw to that. Through the darkness, he could see her eyes.
They were fear ridden. Jerking back and forth, as they looked for
some glimpse of hope. She saw nothing but her captor. The tears
began to flow as she saw his face change. She let out a deafening
scream. But because of the duct tape, it wasn't heard. A few
moments later she was dead.
Meanwhile, further down the
tunnel, another's luck reached a dark abyss.
Steve was also smiling.
He had just found his prey. A few feet away, a plump rat scurried
about. It searched for food, as did its hunter. Thanks to his
hyper senses, Steve saw the rat. But he didn't see the two men standing
behind him. Nor did he see the blade as it slit his throat.
The pain he was feeling was
awesome. With his hands clenching his throat, Steve turned around
to see his attackers. Steve saw two men standing in the shadows.
Helplessly, Steve watched as the second man stepped forward, blade in hand.
The man swung the blade, striking Steve's belly. Covering his throat,
Steve fell against the wall of the tunnel. He watched as his intestines
emptied onto the concrete floor.
In a last ditch effort, he
called for, "Everett." Sadly for him, the words came out in a distorted
whisper.
The first man raised his
blade, and struck the final blow. Steve's head rolled onto the floor.
It tumbled forward until it disappeared into a cloud of ash.
The first man smiled.
The Cleansing had begun.
* * * *
< F**kin picky bastards.
>
When Everett fell asleep
just before dawn, he had a good idea of what would happen the next day.
This was not what he pictured.
He figured that he would
wake up around noon, kill his capture from the night's hunt, and watch
his tape of Conan O'brien reruns (Pimpbot rules!).
Instead he was waken an hour past dawn by the smoke filling the room,
was almost killed dragging his meal underground, and worst of all, now
had no TV.
To add insult to injury,
he now had to dump the remains of the body. Jimmy and his friends didn't
want to eat a human that was "empty". And there was no way Everett
was going to take the body above ground. His hand was once burnt
badly by the sunlight and he vowed it would never happen again.
So, wandering through the
sewer looking for a place to dump the woman, the words repeated themselves.
< F**kin picky bastards. >
Everett walked down the empty,
darkened tunnel, dragging the woman low to the ground. He held her
by her neck, the place where he sucked the life out of her.
Stopping, he let go. Her head hit the ground hard, creating a light
splash in the water traveling through the sewer. Though the body
was still near the encampment of vampires, Everett didn't care. By
the time the woman became rancid, he would be long gone. He had a
plan. Once the sun set, he and Steve would find a nice house, kill
the inhabitants, and set up camp. Hopefully something with a satellite,
that was his only preference. Besides, the vampires who chose to
live down here permanently, were pussies or stupid pussies. They
wouldn't bitch about their tunnels becoming a graveyard. He need
only hide it from his peers.
"Kiss my ass you bastards,"
Everett mumbled festively to himself.
Finished his business, Everett
was about to head back when he heard something. It sounded like a scream,
though distant. Curious, Everett made his way down the tunnel.
Twenty meters later, Everett
met a sharp 90 degree turn. It was then that he heard another noise.
Or rather, several of them, repeating incessantly. The sound of footsteps,
splashing the water with each step. Finally, it ended. It sounded
like the person tripped.
Everett stepped towards the
edge of the wall and peered behind it to see who, or what, it was.
It was humanoid, that was for sure. The person (or demon) was on
the floor of the tunnel, crawling slowly toward Everett.
"What the f**k?" Everett
whispered to himself.
It the darkness, Everett
noticed something. An object sticking out of the person's back.
Possibly the handle of a stake or knife. It was this object that
had brought the person to his/her knees.
"Who the f**k are they?"
"They", were silhouettes.
Two figures that were rapidly nearing the person. Everett twitched.
They were carrying swords.
In a state of fear and fascination,
Everett watched the two go to work. The first to reach the person,
ripped the object out of his/her back. It was a knife. The
second then raised his sword and struck the person. Even from the
distance, Everett could tell that if the person was a righty, he/she was
f**ked.
The first struck a second
later. A sick smile covered Everett's lips as he saw the person raise
the stubs where his/her arms once were. Two swipes later, the person
no longer had any limbs.
< This is it, > Everett
thought. The first and second raised their swords. A moment
later, Everett heard a low scream escape the vampire's mouth as it turned
to ash.
Everett turned around and
ran frantically away from the silhouettes.
* * * *
It was weird, even his mother
said so, but Vlad couldn't sleep without noise. It wasn't ten minutes
after Everett and Steve left, that Vlad found himself tossing and turning
within the clothes that made his bed. Try as he might, Vlad knew
that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep.
< Sh**, > Vlad thought.
He tossed the clothes off himself and stood up. He decided to go
see Fran. Everett had also gone that way, so he would probably run
into him too.
Three minutes later, Vlad
reached the rally point. It was a place where four tunnels converged
and connected. It was also a place where a group of
15 or so vampires had gathered. At the center was a bowl.
A place where the water emptied from the tunnels and traveled down a grate
to a lower level. The vampires were spread out along the top of the
bowl, making sure they wouldn't become wet. It was standing at the
end of the tunnel that Vlad was hit by something.
The force of the collision
sent Vlad flying forward. He hit the center of the bowl, into the
water. Disoriented, Vlad lifted his face out of the water.
A foot before him was the object that hit him.
"F**k!" Fran was confounded.
Standing at the opposite end of the bowl, she saw Vlad as he approached.
It was natural that she also saw the mangled, naked body of her friend,
Stu, fly towards him. Vlad was now on his hands and knees at the
center of the bowl, looking as confused as Alice in Wonderland.
It wasn't Vlad that held
Fran's attention, though, it was Stu. They weren't best friends or
nothing, but Fran held a lot of respect for Stu. They would occasionally
go hunting together. He was strong, polite as a vampire could be,
and smart. This in no way resembled what he was now.
His right arm was gone, sliced
off at the shoulder. His left arm faired no better. Twisted in so
many places that it resembled a pretzel. His fingers were missing.
Only the palm remained. His right leg was detached at the kneecap,
but it was tame in comparison to the left. It looked filleted.
All across the leg pieces of meat were gone, exposing the bone. His
manhood was gone. Only a bloody patch of meat beneath the skin remained.
His face was fine, left totally untouched. But his hair was gone.
As the Native's of the America's once did, he was scalped. The damage
done to his chest sent fear racing among the crowd. Chiseled in his
chest were three letters.
D-I-E.
The scream broke Fran's trance.
Her eyes raced around the room, searching. They stopped a few feet from
the tunnel where Vlad once walked. She stood and watched the horror
unfold.
It had only been three seconds
since Vlad's arrival, but two vampires were already dead. The two
who killed Steve stepped into the bowl, and struck down those closest to
them. Fran watched from across the bowl. She watched two more
vampires be decapitated by these men clothed in dark robes. A second
later the panic hit.
"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"
Jimmy ordered at the top of his lungs.
It was madness. Around
him, vampires fled for their lives or were killed. Jimmy watched
as some vampires became infuriated by these strangers. He watched
them change their faces and charge the strangers. He then watched
them be decapitated or mortally wounded.
Instinct took over.
This was his turf, his people. < These f**kers think they can
waltz in here and start killing my people! > He then remembered the
gun. His trusty nine millimeter that he used when he was a common
thief in Cleveland. He didn't use it much lately, but he always kept
it in the inside pocket of his jacket.
He reached inside and took
aim. "GET DOWN!" He pulled the trigger.
The bullets flew across the
room. A vampire who just lost his hand was struck in the head.
He fell to the ground, loosing all brain activity. The rest of the
bullets found their target. They struck the stranger in the chest.
One by one.
The stranger stumbled back,
< Yes! > but quickly regained his footing. < OH NO! >
That was Jimmy's last thought.
The death count for the battle
was eight. The remains of the vampire's bodies slid into the water,
creating a foul goo that reeked of death.
The survivors escaped into
the tunnels... but their nightmare was just beginning.
* * * *
The silence was absolute.
After running for nearly five minutes, and waiting for an undetermined
time, everything was quiet. Nary the scurry of rats, the cascade
of water, or the commotion of the surface. Nothing. Not even
the sound of a heartbeat.
< Sometimes being dead
has it's advantages, > Fran thought.
But if she wasn't dead, she
wouldn't be in this situation.
It wasn't much, but it was
a place to hide. A shallow, though wide, crack in the wall of the
tunnel. Maybe caused by an earthquake, or maybe by years of erosion.
Chipping away at the surface, one molecule at a time. Whatever the
case, Fran was glad it was there.
She was all alone.
And for the time being, that was the way she wanted it. Supposidly, there
was safety in numbers. That wasn't something Fran held in high regard,
though. The events of the past hour didn't support it either. So
Fran crouched in the rift, her hands gripping a tired, old bat that she
found nearby, thinking.
< What's that? >
Fran's mind raced.
She heard something, that was for sure. But was it one of "them",
or a vampire? It was moving slowly. Possibly 25 feet away.
< I should have been more
alert! > Fran cursed herself.
She processed her options.
Running. A viable plan, but to where? The noise was coming from the
west side, and she came from the east. She was the only one who came
this way. Going back would be dangerous.
15 feet.
She could fight. She
possessed the element of surprise, and a weapon. However, what good
is a rotten bat against a sword.
Ten feet.
Could he see her? Were
her white Nike's protruding out enough to enter his field of view.
Five feet.
Her grip on the bat was iron.
Sweat was gathering on her forehead. She would have to fight.
Two feet.
Fran leapt out of the rift
with the velocity of a cheetah. She landed squarely on her feet,
closed her eyes, and swung the bat. In the back of her mind, she
thought a silent prayer (not sure who to).
The result was devastating.
The bat, already in a state of decay, shattered instantly. Chips
of wood showered the air, landing on Fran and vice versa. The stranger
was flattened, landing on his/her back.
Fran flipped the remains
of the bat in her hands. Instead of holding it for a swinging motion,
she held it as a stake to be drove into the stranger's heart. She
held the bat over her head. Her survival depended on this.
She brought the bat down in a swift, vigorous motion.
She missed.
"Jesus Christ, Fran!
You almost killed me!"
Fran released the bat.
Cautiously, she stood up and backed away from the person. Her eyes focused
on the mysterious figure lying on the base of the tunnel.
"Crunch?" Fran almost
hoped it wasn't him.
"Duh! What the hell
are you doing!?" he asked, his voice shrill with anger. His head
was tilted upwards to see Fran.
Crunch. A guy who up
to a few years ago was called Sid. To his dislike, he was renamed
after a few of his buddies watched "The Big Hit". During the movie,
they noted some similarities between the character, "Crunch", and Sid.
They were both black, bald, and liked to masturbate. Naturally, the
name stuck with him.
"Help me out here!" Crunch
pleaded. "I feel like Uma Thurman in "Pulp Fiction.""
"Why? Cause you both
like to pleasure black men," Fran said snickering. "You know, she's
married to Ving Rhames in that movie."
"I get the joke, Fran." He
sighed. "Just get this thing out of me."
"Keep your panties on."
Fran moved up beside Crunch. He was right, there was a resemblance
to Uma Thurman. The bat was in deep. It looked remarkably sturdy,
being imbedded in Crunch's right shoulder. Fran's mind flashed back
to the cartoon, "The Sword in the Stone"
< Time to do this like
that little blond kid. >
Fran was hesitant.
It's an awkward situation pulling a bat out of somebody. She placed
her left foot beside Crunch's head. She grazed Crunch's torso with
her right foot, searching for a place to put it.
"Watch it!" Fran made
eye contact with Crunch. "My stomach is a little tender."
Fran gasped. Crunch's
shirt was torn in several places and soaked in dried blood.
< Not my most observational
day. >
Fran's foot settled on the
top portion of Crunch's chest. She wrapped her finger's around the
handle of the bat. Fran looked back into Crunch's eye's. He nodded.
"SH**!" Crunch screamed in
agony.
When the bat left Crunch's
body, the sound of the moist flesh tearing turned Fran's stomach (if it
was a human, she would have enjoyed it). Fran examined the end of
the bat. It was littered with jagged, blood soaked points. Fran noticed
minuscule pieces of flesh clinging to them. She groaned in disgust
and tossed the bat behind her. The sound echoed throughout the tunnel.
"Mind stepping off me, Fran,"
Crunch asked.
"Oh, sorry." Fran stepped
to the side.
Crunch extended his left
arm. Fran grabbed it with both hand and helped him to his feet.
"Damn, that hurts," Crunch
said, his voice reflecting the aching pain. He then began to exercise
his left arm by rotating it in it's socket, while letting the latter slouch
downwards.
"What happened?" Fran asked.
"You stabbed me in the shoulder,
remember?" Crunch said, continuing his exercise.
"I mean your stomach.
It looks like you were slashed or something."
Crunch stopped moving.
He looked as if he just remembered that he left the iron on. "Oh,
yeah." His tone was serious. "With the whole getting stabbed
thing, I forgot why I was coming this way in the first place."
"Why's that?"
"I was trying to hide."
"From the guys with swords?"
Crunch's eyes widened.
"Yeah. How did you know that?"
Fran raised her hand.
"I was also trying to hide from the sword guys. Two of them attacked
us back there. I thought you were one of them, that's why I smashed
you upside the head."
Crunch tapped his head with
his good arm. "Still kinda hurts."
"I'm not sure if that even
would have brought them down."
"Why's that?" Crunch asked,
his voice hinting at the fear of the topic.
"I saw Jimmy unload his hand
gun on one of those guys. He was fazed for a second before he walked
up to Jimmy and chopped him in half."
"Sounds like our boys."
Crunch paused for a second. "I was hanging out with Mark and the
guys when two of them came out of nowhere and started killing everybody
Darth Maul style. This one chick walked up to me and cut my gut twice."
He mimicked the action with his arm. "If it wasn't for that brave
sonofabitch, Mark, I'd be dead now... like him."
Running her hands through
her hair, Fran found several wood chips in it. She began to brush
them out with both hands. "So what way do you want to go?"
"What do you mean?"
"We can't stay here, they'll
find us."
"East?"
"That's where I came from.
Nothing but bad news over there. I assume we can't go west because
that's where you came from." Crunch nodded. "We can't fight
or go to the surface because all our sunproof clothes and weapons were
burnt in... the fires. Holy sh**," Fran whispered.
"What?"
"Shit! This has all
been planned!" Fran yelled, bursting with energy. "They sent us down
her like rats with no protection and nowhere to go. They're striking
at the outer rims and herding us to the center so... so they can exterminate
us."
The energy Fran felt was gone. Only the hard reality of the situation
remained.
"What the hell are they then!?
Can't be stopped by bullets and trying to kill us all!?" Crunch now
shared Fran's grim feelings of the situation.
"I don't know. I don't
know." For a moment there was silence. Both thinking about
the irony of the situation. The hunters becoming the hunted. "I do
know one thing. If we go to the lower levels we're dead. There will
be nowhere to run. Staying up here is the only chance of survival.
We have to find everybody else and form a plan."
< That's it, a plan. >
* * * *
Meanwhile, elsewhere underground,
a group of several vampires were having a similar discussion.
"That's the dumbest f**kin
plan I've ever heard!"
"Would you keep your voice
down. I don't want to die today," Vlad said, in a hushed tone.
"I'm sorry, but you’re f**kin
insane." This time, Everett kept his voice down. "I think you've
had one too many bruskies, buddy."
"Listen to me, we have to
fight while we still can. At this rate, the vampire population of
Sunnydale will be zero before nightfall."
Everett forced a smile.
He looked around at the seven other vampires forming the circle.
Their faces were cold, each taking in the discussion. The two vampires
at the opposite ends of the tunnel were silent. Both listened carefully
to hear what was being said. But they never forgot their job: lookout
duty.
"Can you believe this guy."
Everett said loudly. "He wants to lead you on a death march."
Everett walked towards Vlad. He grabbed Vlad's arm and pulled it
upwards. "May the fact that your hand was hacked off remind you that you
owe your life to me." Everett released Vlad's arm. Vlad pulled it
back to his side immediately. He was loosing his patience with Everett.
"If it wasn't for me, you and all your buddies would have run down the
wrong tunnel. You'd all be ash if it wasn't for me," he said loudly,
once again. "I say we hide. There's miles of sewer that they'd have
to search.
But once the sun sets, we go topside, get some weapons, chainsaw for
me, and kick some serious ass. Now that's a plan."
Vlad sighed. < Idiot's
going to get us killed. >
"We have an advantage.
Last time I counted, there were around 60 vampires in Sunnydale.
With this morning’s activity, that numbers probably around 40 now.
But we still outnumber them. I saw two. Everett, you say you
saw two. Mr. Pink and Logan saw two, and Marc saw two." Throughout,
Vlad pointed to each person as he spoke of them. "So there's at least
eight of them. 40 to eight. I think the odds may be in our
favor."
"Hey, Vlad. Newsflash!
We just got our asses kicked. I'm in no mood to go in for a second
round." Everett looked around the circle, "I don't know about you
fellas, but I'm out of here. Anyone who wants to come along, feel
free."
That said, Everett walked
away from the group. With each step, his legs produced miniature
riptides in the knee-high water. Apparently, others shared his view.
Logan, Sherry, and Mr. Pink soon followed Everett. Vlad's crew was
now down to seven.
"Well, Vlad, what do we do
now?" Marc asked.
"First we find them, then
we ambush them," Vlad replied.
"How are we supposed to kill
them? We aren't well equipped and these guys are pros," Gary said.
He added, "They aren't fucking around."
"And what if they can't be
killed. Bullets didn't hurt them," Ewan said, panicked.
"Nothing is invincible,"
Vlad said. The words were strong. He believed in them with
every fiber of his being. "Bullets don't kill us either, but we
die." Vlad walked over to the side of the tunnel. He bent
over and picked up an object floating in the water. "When in doubt, ram
a stake through it's heart."
In this case, it wasn't a
stake, but a two by four (a big stick basically).
Part 2