The Purging

Os Vengare

Wending their way through the streets of Los Angeles, it is clear just how serious the situation has become. Dead bodies litter the city's streets, and the visible collateral damage is massive. Whether it is the vampires themselves or frantic looters taking advantage of the attack, the devastation is palpable no matter where they look. Everyone aboard agrees, they will not stop the bus, no matter what happens.

It seems totally hopeless, until there is a crackle over the public channel on the radio, “To anyone in the greater Los Angeles area, this is the United States military broadcasting,” The passengers all snap to attention. Ben and Juanito turn up the volume on their radios so everyone can hear, “We are in the midst of a state of emergency. The United States is under attack by a terrorist organization. Regular communication channels are down and the power grid is offline. Do not panic. Stay indoors, barricade your entrances and windows. For those people who are out within the city proper or the surrounding area, stay out of wide open areas. If it is possible, make your way as fast as you can to the Los Alamitos Air Force base in Orange County. The army and navy are here in force to mount a rescue effort and counter attack. Stay strong, there is hope. And may God be with us all.” With that, the message begins playing on a loop.

The squad sergeant turns and announces to the few people left, “Alright, it looks like we’re headed south. Hang on everyone, we’re gonna make it.” They make their way down the interstate, with renewed hope and breathing a sigh of pensive relief. Twenty five minutes later they see a string of lights dotting the southern horizon, the end of the nightmare is just ahead. The driver excitedly accelerates towards their destination. As they cross the threshold of the military base, disaster rears its ugly head once again.

In the excitement of the ambush at the school, even Ben had forgotten about the infected liquor store clerk. Now fully transformed, the fledgling blood sucker lunges at the very doctor that had previously campaigned to allow his passage. It bites her dead center on the face first, tearing the nose clean off with a single chomp. Newly formed claws dig deep crevices into both cheeks. Chewing loudly on her proboscis, he smiles and spits it back in her shredded face, then clamps down giddily on her waiting oesophagus.

Juanito draws his magnum and points it at the shop keep, but before he can line up a shot, the bus hits a pothole. His weapon discharges instead at the bus’ driver. The bullet makes contact with the back of the sergeant’s head, splintering his skull and covering the windshield with a sticky cascade of crimson brain matter. Without a navigator and the windshield obscured, the coach goes careening off the road at full speed.

Ben grabs Juanito’s shirt and screams, “Bail out!!!” He boots open the rear door and they leap out the back of the bus. Their hurried escape prevents the cousins from executing a proper tuck and roll. Landing hard on the asphalt at intense speed, bones buckle and skin shreds. The coach spins into a barrel roll and flips over multiple times before coming to a grinding halt in the muddy ditch. From within the wreckage, the newborn vampire can be heard gorging itself on the injured survivors.

The cousins rush to the debris with guns drawn as fast as their broken bodies will carry them. They spot the creature feeding through one of the windows and unload several bullets into its head and chest. It jumps toward them eagerly with outstretched claws, missing Ben by a hair’s breadth. Juanito, however, is not so fortunate. His left shoulder is split wide open, and spews forth a cascade of claret. With his working arm, he unloads another few shots point blank into his attacker’s neck.

The vampire sputters and falls to the ground coughing up buckets of blackened blood. The injury his cousin has sustained makes Ben’s universe stand still for a moment. In the back of his mind, he assumed they wouldn’t survive the night. But he was so sure he would go first. So sure he wouldn’t have to watch anyone else he cared about leave him forever. Flashing back to the image of his niece and nephew lying lifeless in their beds, he clenches his jaw and rushes forward.

“No, no, no! You mother fucker!!” He goes berserk, pistol whipping the dying creature’s head in rapid succession. Arm moving like lightning, up and down, he crumples the vampire’s skull. Even after it’s stopped moving, he keeps on swinging. In short order, what used to be a head looks more like a pile of bloody ground meat. In mid swing, Juanito catches him by the wrist.

“Stop Ben, just stop. It’s OK bro.” He releases Ben’s hand, “I never intended to live through tonight. I could never go on without my family.”

Ben shoots back in a pained tone, “But you do have family, you have me. Maybe you’re not infected. We can.....”

Juanito interrupts, smiling even as his eyes well up with tears, “No Ben, look at the wound. The infection is already spreading. It’s too late. I’ve got a couple of bullets left and one of em’ has my name written all over it. Don't waste energy worrying about me. The light at the end of the tunnel for you is right there.” He gestures at the lights of the hangars down the road.

Producing a small flask from his front shirt pocket, Juanito sits down beside the road. Ben takes a seat next to him and wraps his arm around his cousin’s neck. They share one last drink together in resigned silence. No words could ever express what either one of them is feeling. When the final drop in the flask is consumed, they both rise to their feet, no longer fighting back the tears.

As they exchange a single warm embrace, Juanito says, “Now get moving. I’m goin’ to see my kids.” Ben hangs his head and calmly walks away. He hears the bang a few seconds later, but resists the urge to turn around. It was his plan to die this night, to rush into battle and lay down his life. Things have changed. If he has to move mountains, if he has to drain every ocean on Earth, he will find the Nazi from the airport. Grasping his gun tightly in his hand, he mutters under his breath, “I will avenge you. I will find a way.”

After an hour of walking, he arrives at his final destination. Inside, he sees that there is only one troop transport in the hanger, and what appears to be two very large tanks bearing the logo of the Angelista Corporation. He’s always had a fascination with tanks, even read the odd book about them. These ones are unlike anything he’s ever seen. For starters, most tanks don’t float as far as he knows. The glowing barrels of their cannons are equally confounding. The only thing he knows for sure is that he definitely wants one.

While the lights are on and the vehicles are running, nobody is around. The eerie quiet reminds Ben of the school parking lot, and he clutches his gun tightly. Perhaps even the soldiers here did not survive. If he doesn’t find medical help soon, he won’t survive either. The weight of his injuries is catching up with him. He can feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, his vision fading to black. Just before he totally loses his faculties, he overhears part of a conversation.

“Another survivor ma’am... shit, he’s pretty banged up.”

“Is he contaminated?”

“No ma’am. I’m not seeing any signs of that.”

“Are his internal organs intact?”

“I believe so.”

“Perfect, put him in cold storage with the rest.”