Requiem: Invasion

 1

"Goodnight, and please drive safe! It's a very rainy night!" Father Brian called over the bone-chilling, howling winds to a parishioner.

    "Thank you Father, you too!" the little, slightly rotund lady called, shaking Father Brian's hand and cuddling close to her husband as they quickly moved toward their vehicle.

    Only a glimmer of light illuminated the chapped faces of his parishioners as they passed by, each shaking his hand and hurrying off to the warm enclave of their vehicle. As he did every day after Mass, especially on the Sunday and this Saturday Vigil celebration, he waited for every person to leave. Once all were in the safety of their vehicles, he scurried inside, rubbing his hands together for some semblance of warmth as his entire body threatened to freeze. He checked the bathroom and extracurricular rooms in the Church and finally checked the nave and sanctuary, kneeling and performing the Sign of the Cross with holy water as he entered and exited the sanctuary. Despite the force of habit, each time he entered the sanctuary into the presence of Christ in the Eucharist, his spirit was both elevated and calmed, reaffirming his faith.

    Finally, he gathered his small suitcase of carried belongings, mostly his rosary, missal and some individual papers for parish matters he had to consider over the night, turned off all the lights except that illuminating the sanctuary, and went out through the Church's back entrance. Before going home for the night, he had one last task. The biting cold and violent winds tempted him to forego the self-appointed task he did after every Saturday Vigil Mass, he remembered its purpose, took a deep breath and headed out, wrapping his thick winter coat tight around him.

    There was even less light behind the Church as in front, with no street lamp or light fixture. As he seemed to every Saturday, he kicked himself for not taking at least a flashlight with him. Fortunately, he knew the route by heart, and he let the feel of the gravel pathway underneath his feet guide his steps.

    The cold was unable to prevent the cloud of placid sorrow that came over him every time he visited his Church's cemetery. Since it had been ten years, his sadness had gone from overwhelming to morose, just a cloak of solemnity that enshrouded his heart. With the path through the graveyard to his destination burned into his memory, he soon came to the specific grave he intended and fell to his knees atop it. He sat his suitcase beside him and reached out, running his fingers across the words etched into the gravestone: MARIA FERRER - BORN: 2003 - DIED: 2010 - MAY SHE BE KEPT IN THE SACRED HEART OF CHRIST.

    Father Brian closed his eyes, moisture quickly ringing them as tears slipped down his face, soon blown off his cheeks by the wind. "I'm so sorry, little Maria," his whispered inaudibly in the gales, "I-I just didn't see you that night. It was so dark… and you were so little, only a child. In penance, I have given up my car. Even in the worst weather, I walked home every night. Nevertheless, the shame of killing such a young, innocent little girl will forever haunt my soul. God forgive me."

    He bowed his head and kept his hands outstretched against the tombstone as he began praying silently. He did not care how much time he spent, if the wind took his belongings or even injured him. Guilt filled his heart, even though he had complete faith in the power of God's grace and forgiveness, and even though he knew Maria's death had been an accident. In truth, he felt not shame but sorrow simply for the death of Maria Ferrer, her life taken without purpose or provocation, her future stolen. She is with Christ now, Father Brian reminded himself. Even random deaths are in the hands of God, her soul now content in the peace of God's presence.

    As he pulled himself away from his vigil, reluctantly ending his prayers and performing the Sign of the Cross and a blessing over Maria's grave, he picked up his suitcase - which had miraculously remained by his side - and stood. Only the pale light of the moon gave any visibility, even if it was quite sparse. He could just make out the outline of Maria's gravestone and the bright white Church building in the distance - darkness obscured anything nearer. However, as he glanced toward the cemetery ahead, stretching for about fifty yards around, something caught his eye. It was there just a moment, passing in and out of view. He could only make out its silhouette, which appeared to be human-like, tall but thin and slightly bent. The impenetrable night darkened any other feature.

    His heart leapt, but he swallowed and calmed himself. Just a specter in the night, he told himself. Nothing to worry about - fatigue can do things to the mind, especially in such dreary and hazardous environs. But he didn't waste any time moving to the path and walking at a steady pace towards the Church. His pulse quickened as he heard the sound, softened by the wind, of displaced gravel, inharmonious to that moved by his own steps. But who could possibly be in a cemetery at this time of night? Maybe an animal or some sort of criminal, he thought. Despite the shock of seeing and hearing such unusual things, he felt no fear. Perhaps it was the solemn image of death he had just experienced, or the castle of faith in Christ in his heart, but he did not intend to bolt to the Church or, if attacked, giving the aggressor any pleasure from intimidating him.

    After several minutes of hearing the discordant footsteps behind him, recently joined by a low, deep, almost growl of breathing only a few feet away, he made a decision. Abruptly, he stopped and turned to face his follower.

    Even though he still felt no fear, the sight of not only one vampire, with its hideous red eyes and sharp pronounced canines, but an entire pack of at least twenty did manage to send a chill down his spine. Or maybe it was just the weather.

 2

 All of them are on the gravel path. As Father Brian gazed at the pack of vampires staring back at him, growling low and hungry, fresh blood dripping from their gaping mouths, he noticed all twenty of them were standing on the wide cemetery pathway - the only part of the graveyard that had not been blessed. They cannot stand on blessed ground, he realized. Even as the vampire in the front, a tall, lithe woman, her pale iridescently pale in the moonlight and sharply contrasting to the red of her bloody mouth and gleaming eyes, lunged toward him, Father Brian jumped off the path.

    He landed hard, knocking the breath out of him and flinging his suitcase a few feet away, but both were far from his mind as he rolled onto his back to look back at his attacks. The vampire woman's comrades had just managed to catch the lining of her thin white dress, her only clothing, before she fell onto the holy ground. Father Brian wondered what would happen if she had fallen, but the knowledge that his predator hated something gave him distinct pleasure and reassurance.

    "Your world is at an end, priest," the vampire woman whispered, her voice shrill and hollow, almost mechanical. "Your humanity is obsolete - God has abandoned you."

    For a moment, Father Brian simply laid there, taking deep, raspy breaths as he regained composure from his fall. Obviously, until now, he had not believed in vampire. Although he was not beyond believing in the existence of things like magic, as the work of demonic forces were capable of such occultisms even in the Bible, vampires had never really crossed his consideration. Nevertheless, having a pack of them staring at him, hungering for his blood, their eyes empty of any soul other than a bestial desire for death and domination, certainly caught his attention. A million questions ran through his mind. Where did they come from? How did they originate? Are they demonic, or simply diseased? Are they corpses or just infected living humans? Do they desire evil or simply to live in their condition without harm?

    Had God abandoned them?

    Her words had little weight in his heart. Father Brian knew that God would never abandon His Creation - if He could, He would not be God. But why had she mentioned it? Was she perhaps apart of some satanic cult impersonating vampires, or possibly real vampires controlled by demons? Unfortunately, he could not answer his own questions; but he believed the vampire would not acquiesce to his curiosity either. For now, he could only try to escape and find help - and to spread warning. With twenty in such a small place as his parish Church, he could not imagine how many could be out there.

    "God never abandons," he replied quietly, rising to his feet and dusting off his black priest uniform. "Whatever your devices or goals, they will eventually fail, and all your destruction will only strengthen us."

    The vampires glanced at one another, then began laughing, cackling terribly. While they were distracted, Father Brian took the opportunity. He grabbed his suitcase in one hand and with the other, quickly dug a handful of blessed dirt in the other and threw it at the vampires. Instantly, the dirt burned the vampires' skin, making them howl and cry in agony as they frantically tried to clean each other. He jumped back onto the path and, while the vampires were occupied, sprinted toward his Church. It was still deep night, darkness surrounding him, but the moonlight seemed to have brightened, casting a wan sheen around him and giving some measure of visibility.

    As he neared the Church's back door, he continued to hear the vampires screaming, with no sign of pursuit. He burst through the door and hurriedly closed and locked it behind him, hoping the Church's rarely-used locks would suffice against possibly-supernatural strength - now enhanced by rage. He knew they would soon be after revenge, so he had to work quickly.

3


The first thing Father Brian did after stepping inside his Church and bolting the lock behind him was turn on every light in the building. Seeing a horde of vampires step out of darkness gave him a new appreciation for illumination. His dress shoes gave little sound as he sprinted down the short hallway which forked, the entrance down one break and the nave on the other. He raced towards the entrance doors and locked them as well, and nearly had a heart attack as a group of vampires jumped at the double doors, clawing at the thick wood and its diminutive, round windows, but were unable to break through, to Father Brian's astonishment.

    As he stared down at them, their eyes wide and eager for blood, mouths biting toward him, he felt a mixture of horror and pity. If he knew anything about vampires, these beasts had once been normal human beings. He wondered if they had died, or if they were simply possessed - if their souls had been replaced, transformed, or incarcerated deep within while the invading spirit took over. In his complete ignorance of their condition, its cause and the range of the vampires' predation, he could do nothing about it.

    Pivoting, he moved to his office and tossed his suitcase onto his desk, then plopped down heavily in his chair. He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair,  which was straight but seemingly immune to a brush or comb. His dark eyes were red and puffy with fatigue; closing them, he leaned back a moment, letting his recent panic gradually flow out, replaced by calm focus. He couldn't just sit here while vampires ravaged the world - he had to at least know what was going on.

    Quickly, he activated his PC and logged onto the internet, which to his relief was still working. Relief soon gave way to horror as his homepage was consumed by a headline news article, posted thirty minutes ago at 6:30pm: VAMPIRE INVASION. He read on:

"Approximately one hour ago, at 5:30pm EST, the military reported an attack on our nation's capital. No terrorism - no foreign country at work. We were attacked by vampires, creatures of myth and legend, but now, their reality is indisputable. The military hasn't given a specific figure, but the number of vampires said to be invading our country estimates in the tens of thousands. How they avoided our notice until now, we do not know - perhaps the ancient tales and sightings weren't so silly after all.

"At 5:30pm, ten vampires covertly assaulted the White House while the President and his family were at dinner. They appeared as if from nowhere, taking out the security silently, somehow bypassing all locks and alarms, and finally murdering the presidential family before they could even react. Soon, the attack was noticed by government officials, but as they sent out warnings to all government facilities, separate groups of vampires assaulted military installations and state government buildings, as well as their homes, across the nation. Whether these vampire groups are in contact with one another is unknown, but their alliance is presumed.

"Only three army bases, two air force bases and five naval bases survived. No marine, national guard or coast guard escaped the vampires' strike. By report from witnesses who managed to send us an account before they… lost contact, the vampires move with almost imperceptible speed, possess supernatural strength and the ability to distract their victim even standing right in front of them, possibly using some sort of trance or hypnosis. Some managed to engage the vampires in combat, and although a few vampires were killed, all the combatant humans died in the process. Witnesses say the vampires can be killed by gunfire, but only in heavy amounts - usually, the head and heart must be destroyed, and the blood must be fully drained, or else they will regenerate.

"Much has happened in only an hour - but that is often the case in such times as these. Never has the United States been invaded to this degree. Our government and military are almost completely destroyed. The extent of the damage to the civilian population is unknown - estimates range from half of the population dead or infected with vampirism, to 90 percent. Channel 5 News has been… very fortunate to have avoided an attack yet. Thankfully, the vampires haven't destroyed our power lines yet - why, I can't say. Maybe to let us tell the story, to spread fear? Or perhaps they want to use our electricity and fuel for themselves? I cannot say. And whether or not this has affected the rest of the world, I also don't know - all international contact was broken recently, possibly by the vampires. The US seems to be the only nation still posting on the internet. We can only hope survivors will see this article. If you do, please, stay safe and do whatever it takes to stay human. From Channel 5 News, this is Karen Lopez reporting."

    Father Brian felt frozen in place, his gaze locked on the screen. He felt as if someone had hit him with a sledge hammer. Only thirty minutes ago, he was celebrating Mass, his parishioners happy and safe, receiving the Eucharist, praying, shaking hands and giving peace to one another. Now, where are they? Are they still even alive - or human? What does it all mean?

    And why did the vampire mention God?

    Realizing he had been holding his breath, he let it out slowly and leaned back. The sound of two groups of vampires banging against both entrances to the Church filled his ears, but he ignored it. He wondered about his family - his parents and little brother living just a few miles north in Chicago. Maybe living in the city gave them some protection? Or maybe it just made them more vulnerable…

    Gasping for breath, panic threatening to overwhelm him, he quickly jumped up and ran into the nave, kneeling before the sanctuary and performing the Sign of the Cross. He gazed up at the altar, a crucifix hanging above it, the tabernacle just behind the altar with a candle proclaiming the constant presence of Christ. The light of the world, the hope of man, the salvation of the universe, physically before him. Father Brian felt almost surprised at his lack of despair or indignation. Normally in such a crisis as this, it was natural to doubt God's Providence, to wonder what His plan was. But while he did wonder what was going to happen or what had caused all of this, he knew that even this wasn't out of God's hands.

    "Even the gates of Hell will not prevail against the Church," Father Brian whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek and he smiled softly. Even amid the hideous banging and growling of demonic vampires only a few yards away, separated only by wooden doors, he felt more assured of God's love than ever.

4

 As he continued to pray silently, gazing up at the altar and tabernacle, Father Brian knew he couldn't stay here forever. If he was one of the few people still alive, he had to do something to help them - and to keep the Church alive. But he also couldn't simply abandon his parish. Even though they hadn't been able to walk on blessed ground or break through the doors of the church yet, he could not be sure that was how this vampirism functioned. Despite his very limited knowledge of vampire lore, he knew that their nature and behavior varied considerably from one legend or story to the next, so he had to be careful.

    He wouldn't let the Eucharist be damaged, however. Racing back to his office, he grabbed two large plastic baggies, two empty water bottles, his suitcase, and brought them to the preparations table beside the sanctuary. He opened the cruet holding the wine host and poured as much as he could into the empty water battle. A pang of irreverence shot through him, putting the Blood of Christ in such an unceremonious container. However, the cruet itself was too rounded to fit in his suitcase, so he had no choice. The other bottle he filled with water from another cruet, then fit every Eucharist wafer into the two plastic baggies and situated them between his missal and the suitcase itself, being very careful not to break any and to position them so none would be disturbed.

    Blessing both entrances with holy water, he then used a rope he had found in his office - where he got it, he had no idea - and tied it through the handle of his suitcase and around his waist, holding it in place as he climbed up into the attic. It was relatively empty, since the church tended to use or give away everything it received. Only a couple boxes used when they had first moved into the church remained, pushed against the dusty walls which were padded with insulation. Though it was very dark, moonlight streaming through the attic's single window across the room gave some visibility, reassuring Father Brian as he stepped warily toward the window. Opening it, he unrolled the rest of the rope and surreptitiously dangled it out the window. With their attention completely on getting through the seemingly-impenetrable doors, the vampires didn't notice as the rope touched the street below. He hoped they couldn't smell him, but he had no choice - this was his only possible escape route.

    Gripping the rope tight, he slipped out the window and thanked God he wasn't afraid of heights. The rope burned his hands as he carefully slid down it, crawling down its length until he finally felt his feet touch sturdy concrete. Unfortunately, he couldn't retrieve the rope - he had no choice but to untie it from around his waist and leave it, hoping the vampires wouldn't try to climb up it. Gripping his suitcase tight, he tiptoed across the street, his eyes riveted to the horde of vampires banging and gyrating against the church's doors. Abruptly, the image of old medieval paintings of Hell came to mind, with bodies gyrating against one another in an orgiastic trance of pleasure and destruction. He could only hope the human souls once present in these vampires' bodies were not experiencing that fate.

    To his astonishment and gratitude, the vampires didn't notice as he moved, crouched low and on his toes, across the empty street to walk on the frost-hardened sidewalk. He hoped the darkness of night would conceal him in his black priest robes and black suitcase, with even his face obscured by his long black hair. But from the online article, he knew the capabilities of these vampires, so he could only assume they were distracted and driven by revenge - a thought which quickened his pace. He didn't know where to go - he had no real friends or family nearby. The closest church was at least ten miles, but he knew most priests headed home before he did, due to his cemetery ritual. To the bottom of his heart, he prayed that his priest friends, many of which he had gone through seminary with and been ordained alongside, were safe. He tried not to think about their alternative fate as he walked to an unknown future, an unknown destination, and an unknown world.

5

 As Father Brian continued to walk along the sidewalk, he saw a house in the distance, one which he had passed many times as he drove to the store, gas station, or to a Church function elsewhere. He saw one car in the driveway and a window illuminated by a light inside, but as he came within fifty yards of the house, his heart sank as he heard a woman's scream and saw two vampires standing guard outside the front door, with four more seeming almost casual as they watched the scene inside the house through the only window Father Brian could see. He couldn't make out their words yet, with the winds still strong and biting, but he had no doubt they were vampires. Even though he had seen normal humans with exceptionally pale skin, lithe bodies and even reddish eyes as the vampires had, there was one distinguishing signature feature which every vampire he had seen shared: their heads were completely bald. Though some had eyebrows or even a beard, their heads were absolutely clean. He did not know if they had intentionally shaved or if baldness was some sort of consequence of vampirism, but alongside their other unusual traits, baldness made vampires easily discernable.

    His throat was tight and his breathing stiff as he continued to hear violent cries from inside the house. He tried not to think of what was happening, but having personally met the resident of that house, an elderly widow, many times, both in passing and at Mass, he felt a personal sorrow and guilt at her plight and his inability to help. He had no weapons, and certainly wasn't strong or fast enough to fight one vampire, much less a pack. As he watched in silent pain, a thought suddenly came to mind: he did have one weapon. The Eucharist.

    Quickly he pulled out the bottle of Eucharistic wine from his suitcase. He had no time to waste. Holding it sternly in front of him, his heart steeled and mind resolute in faith, knowing the power of God in the Eucharist would overcome such evil, he ran towards the vampires posted outside the front door. At first they simply stared at him, their brows furrowed in confusion, but as his image cleared and they identified his priestly collar, their expressions turned to panic as they frantically ran away in random directions. He smiled and kissed the bottle, then kicked open the door and almost feinted at what he saw.

    The entire living room was covered in blood. Lily Hammond, whom he had just talked to about two hours before, lay sprawled on the soaked carpet, her corpse contorted, ravaged and torn, flesh ripped and eviscerated. A pool of her own blood enveloped her, obscuring most of her remaining clothes and features. Every wall, every piece of furniture and decoration was painted in crimson blood, dripping horrifically like a surreal wax museum, so terrible it couldn't be real.

    Father Brian stared transfixed at Lily's corpse, unable to rend his gaze as both revulsion and anguish overwhelmed him. The sound of his shoes splashing in her blood, the air filled with the stench and taste of death and fresh blood, almost made him vomit. But the sight of his friend, so defiled and desecrated, replaced all nausea with deep, piercing sorrow.

    "Mmm… isn't it beautiful," a low voice, overflowing with pleasure and seemingly echoing from a cavernous emptiness, whispered. Stepping closer to Father Brian, the vampire stopped by his side and slid a blood-covered hand onto his shoulder. "Death is inevitable… Only moments ago, she was filled with life. Now - she is nothing. Consumed, eaten, destroyed… And you're next."

    Having closed his eyes during the vampire's speech, Father Brian suddenly felt consumed by a righteous fire - not anger or vengeance, but a drive to exorcise the evil taint in the room. Turning, he grasped the bottle of Eucharist Blood and pressed it against the vampire's head - which, he silently thanked, was clean of blood - and the creature immediately let out a screech of agony. Unable to touch Father Brian, the vampire tried to step back but fell into a corner.

    "Depart! You have no power here, demon!"

    Though his eyes were filled with torment, the vampire smiled terribly, a deep laugh rumbling in his throat as he gazed up at Father Brian. "I am no demon, priest. But I am legion. God has abandoned humanity - faith is gone. Within hours, your world will be nothing but servants t-"

    Forcing out his words, the vampire croaked in agony and tried to escape into the floor, but Father Brian persistently pressed the Blood against his head, which abruptly caught fire. The vampire tried to pat his face to quench the flames, but they simply moved to his hands, arms, down his torso and legs, consuming his entire body. Father Brian stepped back, making sure to watch as the vampire was completely devoured by the holy inferno which only affected the vampire, no spark touching the house or even the blood around him. Soon, only a pile of ashes floating in blood remained.

    Father Brian closed his eyes as the full weight of the terrible scene around him finally hit. A satanic, bestial slaughter of a helpless, innocent widow, ambushed inside her own house. Looking around the living room, the TV was still on, displaying a show with Mother Angelica of EWTN, his personal favorite Catholic network - the screen now dripping with blood. A cup of hot chocolate sat on a table beside the only chair in the room, both of which were drenched in blood. Stepping closer to her, he knelt down, trying from base instinct not to let the stolen blood of his friend get on his clothes.

    "I… I am so sorry, Lily," he whispered, his voice quavering and tears streaming down his cheeks. Holding out two straightened fingers, he made the Sign of the Cross over her, blessing her spirit. "I will never forget you. May your soul find consolation in the presence of Christ."

    Closing his eyes, he prayed silently over her for several minutes, giving no thought to the possibility of vampires returning for vengeance, and finally stood. He couldn't just leave her here, surrounded by such horror. Walking tentatively, Lily's blood having seeped into the house's single hallway and kitchen, he opened a closet and pulled out several long, clean beach towels. With one, he managed to slide it underneath her without moving her body or getting blood on his hands. He then raised her onto the sofa, where he had laid out another towel. Draping a towel over her, he wrapped another around her head and the last around her feet, tying them with rope he had found in the closet. As he turned to the front door, he carefully draped Lily over his shoulder - the one which hadn't been tainted by the vampire's bloody handprint - and moved to the open door, clenching the bottle of Eucharistic wine tightly. Christ transubstantiated had been the only thing that preserved his life, and gave the opportunity to bury his murdered friend. He would rather die than leave Him behind.

6

 The squish of blood-soaked carpet almost made Father Brian vomit as he switched on the outdoor porch light and carried Lily's wrapped corpse outside. Walking into the front yard, he glanced around. Apparently all the vampires had been scared away by his aggressive approach and destroying the primary predator of the pack, possibly its leader. But he gave little thought to danger - he knew the Eucharist would protect him, and that giving Lily the dignity of a burial was more important than his own safety.

    Laying Lily in the grass, he sprinkled a few droplets of holy water on her to make sure no vampires could touch her body as he walked to the garage. Some vampires must have broken in through that way as its door was already opened. Holding the bottle of Eucharist wine at his side, he strode in and flipped on the lights and left them on after finding a shovel and returning to Lily's burial site. Still no vampires in site. Despite his confidence, he thanked God for solitude.

    It took less time than he expected to bury Lily and bless the front yard acting as her cemetery plot. Checking his wrist watch, it was only ten o' clock. Gazing at Lily's grave one last time, he pulled the shovel head off its pole and pushed the pole into the ground at the head of Lily's gravesite.

    "No vampire will come here, on blessed ground. At least this pole will be a marker of your sacrifice, Lily. Rest well."

    Kneeling and performing the Sign of the Cross, Father Brian finally turned and reluctantly walked back into the house. Although Lily had been a simple widow, she had lost her husband only five years ago. Grimacing as he once again stepped onto the bloody carpet, he went upstairs to Lily's bedroom and rummaged around in her closet, on the top shelf, until finally finding what he had been looking for: a .38 pistol and a .22 long rifle. His knowledge of weaponry was limited, but he knew enough to fire them if need be. With a twinge of revulsion, he grabbed two bags of ammunition and put them in his suitcase alongside the Eucharist and holy water. He hoped his purpose for using these weapons - protecting others - would overrule the possible desecration of the Eucharist, but regardless, the sight of bullets next to Christ brought the immediacy, horror and depression of the situation fully to bear. Making sure to load both weapons, he shouldered the rifle and makeshift holstered the pistol in his pocket. For the first time, he was happy his pants were too small, as the pistol was securely pressed against his hip.

    Leaving all lights on in the house, hoping refugees might could use it as shelter if need be, he was happy to finally leave the scene of Lily's brutal murder. The instinct to call the police instantly came to mind, again sadly reminding him of humanity's desperation. He did not know where to go - looking in both directions down the street, he only saw darkness and a couple houses, none of which seemed to be occupied, thankfully. He didn't know if he could take burying another friend tonight.

    Closing his eyes for a moment, he intuitively decided to walk left - east - down the street. His step was heavy and burdened as the weight of the future pressed down on him, but he continued to remember the Eucharist so faithfully residing at hand. Hope remained, and he would do whatever he could to bring it to whoever remained of humanity.

    Another opportunity wasted no time presenting itself.

    After walking for only a few minutes, Father Brian came to a four-way stop, the only one before coming to a major highway. Pausing, he looked around and in the darkness could only just make out a couple buildings, but couldn't discern anything else about them - except a gas station on a hill on the southeast corner of the intersection. Its lights were on and he thought he could see several vehicles parked outside. Maybe some people established a shelter there, he wondered as he began walking toward it. If so, he wanted to do whatever he could to help them, especially spiritually. He couldn't imagine the spiritual strain on humanity during this time - at least, not until he remembered that in his own heart.

7

 The winds had subsided, giving way to a heavy, sticky fog which made the darkness even more impenetrable. A sheen of humidity gradually masked Father Brian as he walked cautiously towards the gas station. Dabbing his forehead with his sleeve, he trudged up the steep paved hillside, keeping his gaze locked on the gas station but his other senses on alert for an attack.

    As he neared the hilltop, he decided to move to the sidewalk across from the gas station to survey the area before advancing. With its interior and exterior street lights on, it was relatively easy to reconnoiter, even from at least a hundred yards away and through the misty night. Squinting, he could make out three trucks - one pickup - and two cars. By their separation and apparently random parking, he surmised their owners hadn't come together, or at least with any sort of strategy. While that probably meant vampires had not driven them, it could also mean the people inside had been attacked during work - or while going to their vehicles. Swallowing tightly, he continued canvassing the area and gasped silently when he noticed two groups of vampires, two and three each, peering through windows into the gas station.

    He had not seen any other vampires around, and five vampires alone seemed unusual - every time he had encountered them thus far, they were in large groups. Whether this was intentional or they just naturally gravitated toward one another, he hadn't been able to discern yet. Swinging the rifle around his shoulder awkwardly, he gripped it and laid down on his stomach. Having never actually fired a rifle in his life, he had to go by his memory of movies and TV shows. He hoped that would be enough.

    Father Brian wondered if Lily's husband had been a hunter, since his rifle was affixed with a scope. But thankfulness replaced curiosity as he peered into it, the gas station instantly clarified. He mentally kicked himself for not using the scope before. Maybe he was just too reluctant to use the weapon then, he thought. With vampires in sight, possibly on the verge of finding and killing more people, his anxiety dissolved.

    The five vampires were still staring into the high windows when he located them again, a woman with two men in one group, and one very tall man with a very short man in the other. His desire to observe the behavior and possibly gain some useful knowledge of their nature was overcome by the urgency of the situation. Taking out a rifle projectile from his suitcase, he pulled the breech handle up and back, unlocking the bolt and opening the breech. He placed the projectile inside, pointy end forward, and locked the breech again. He was surprised how easy it was to load a weapon, and the thought gave him a slight twinge of nausea, afraid he was becoming too accustomed to violence and death even after only a couple hours in catastrophe.

    The scope had a simple black cross-shaped reticle which made it seemingly easy to target. Then Father Brian remembered that projectiles do not travel on a straight line - they're moved by wind, gravity, angle, and other factors he either didn't know about or couldn't calculate anyways. He could only guess where to aim for it to actually hit. Intuitively, he guessed the peculiarly tall vampire to be the leader and targeted him first. He zoomed in as far as he could, then aimed a little high for gravity. Since the air had almost completely stopped, he could only hope it wouldn't affect trajectory too much. As for other factors - he could only hope.

    Taking a deep breath, he waited until the vampire peered into the window, his head still, and pulled the trigger.

8

 An instantaneous muzzle flash and shoulder recoil made Father Brian clench his eyes shut and look away instinctively. Quickly regaining composure, he looked back into the scope and almost squealed as he saw a tall, spindly vampire with only half a head. Usually such grotesque brutality would turn his stomach, but seeing it in a vampire somehow removed that distaste.

    Falling to the ground, the re-dead corpse was soon flanked by his companions. Father Brian scowled as he saw the woman take charge. She had been the true leader, he realized. Hastily, he took aim again and fired at the woman's head, but anger stole accuracy as the projectile only scraped her scalp, splattering blood on the ground and piercing the window behind her with an abrupt crash. The sound of shattering glass falling to the ground both inside and out of the gas station cut through the previously silent air, making Father Brian jump in surprise. But the disgust he felt with himself for missing his target quickly replaced his shock.

    Hoping he could fix his mistake, he took aim again, but when he looked back into the scope, he realized he wouldn't have to. Three figures - two of which had visible hair, the other's head wrapped - leapt out of the broken window and burst through the gas station door, catching the vampires completely off guard. A massive man holding an even larger axe came out of the window and swung at the vampire woman, lopping off her head before she could even react. Though it was obvious the man lacked any formal weapons training, he swung the axe with violent rage and passion, driven by self-preservation, protecting his companions and destroying an enemy to which he could give no hesitation.

    Whirling his axe in a circle around himself, the other vampires stood just on the perimeter, their mouths gaping and bodies poised to pounce at any opportunity. Finally the extraordinarily short vampire lunged at the man's legs, but a companion of the valiant figure, a lithe, youthful woman with bright red hair let out a battle cry and hurled a crowbar at the diminutive vampire like a spear. Catching the vampire off-guard, it pierced him through the heart just before he reached the burly axe-wielder. Even though the creature fell to the ground, grasping the stick of metal protruding from its chest and unable to move otherwise, the man turned and brought the axe down, decapitating it. Apparently, Father Brian surmised, decapitation was the only sure way to kill them - as far as he had seen so far, at least. Even though he balked at the morbidity in his thinking, he found himself hoping there were many more ways to kill the creatures, giving humanity as much chance as possible to survive.

    Before the axe-wielder could bring his axe back up, the other two remaining vampires jumped at him. His companions yelled in terror and grabbed whatever makeshift weapons they held, moving to encircle the axe-man. But before they could help him, both vampires plunged their unusually-long canines into his neck. Blood spurted out before their mouths could cover the wounds and begin hungrily devouring the man's life. Knowing he had no hope, the man laid down and yelled at his companions something Father Brian couldn't make out, but could guess at.

    His guess was validated as the others paused, glanced at one another, then attacked the vampires. The figure whose head was covered appeared to be an elderly woman, based on her size and bent posture, but she showed no frailty or hesitation as she jabbed a long shard of wood through a vampire's skull, killing it instantly.

    The young woman yanked her crowbar out of the dead vampire's heart, but seemed reluctant to kill the remaining vampire attached to her friend, who had already passed away. Father Brian saw the elderly woman turn to the girl and encourage her - gently at first, then after several seconds passed, more sternly. She obviously wanted the girl to do it herself, to learn how to kill a vampire without hesitation as she was evidently capable. As the girl finally moved the crowbar back to strike, the vampire turned its head and lunged at her.

    Without thinking, Father Brian instantly fired his rifle. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the elderly woman holding the girl close, looking around for the source of the shot. But he was simply happy to see the attacking vampire dead, splayed out a few feet away with a bullet hole in its head. Despite the macabre absurdity of the scene, Father Brian allowed himself a little satisfaction.

9

 The priest was weird. Something about him seemed off, but the sort of peculiarity you couldn't quite put a finger on. Nicki Carew stared at him from across the table, unconsciously eating a French fry as she studied him. Father Brian, as he had called himself, at first glance seemed normal for a Catholic priest - kind eyes, polite expression, burdened shoulders and distinctive collar. But Father Brian was just not quite right. The way he avoided eye contact; the way he picked at his food, barely taking two bites despite asking for a full meal; the way his voice seemed strong and quiet, but trembled at the end of every sentence. Granted, Nicki had met only a handful of Catholic priests in her fifteen years living in the same area, but she had never seen one with such…

    She groaned audibly, interrupting the conversation between the priest and her grandmother which she had been ignoring until that point.

    "Nicki, don't interrupt us now, you know better," Gran said, her voice feeble but firm and evidencing the strength of spirit Nicki loved so much about her. With a scowl, they continued their conversation - with the priest not even looking at her when interrupted, simply gazing down at his food until the conversation continued.

    Nicki frowned. She wasn't angry at him; he seemed like a decent enough person, and he had probably saved their lives. And obviously it was nice to have another human to replace her father who had died in the vampire attack an hour ago. Despite her attempts to ignore his eccentricity, however, she could not let it go. There was something deep within him, some hidden drive or urge which he kept securely locked behind a veil of how he thought a priest should behave - something he didn't even want to see himself.

    "Excuse me Gran, I need to um… do something," Nicki said, smiling innocently at her grandmother while interrupting the conversation yet again.

    Sighing softly, her grandmother smiled. "Ok dear, but be careful. You know how dangerous things are now."

    "I will Gran, don't worry," she called back, already walking away from the table.

    When the vampires first attacked, she, her father and grandmother had just been getting a late night snack on their way home from a school basketball game she was in. Looking down at her basketball uniform, she sighed, remembering how quickly her entire life had fallen apart. Making sure to keep a safe distance from the windows and doors, even though they had boarded them up as best they could, she couldn't help but move against the wall as she passed the storage closet in which they had put the corpse of the cashier. He had gone out back just after ringing up their groceries to take out the garbage, the last thing he had to do before going home Nicki had assumed, and the vampires got him. They managed to fight off the beasts, but he was dead before they even had a chance to save him. Despite their bare means, they gave him a small ceremony and wrapped him in a heavy-duty storage bag they found in the closet, where they had decided to "bury" him. She felt sick as she passed his makeshift tomb, recalling her own father's death. As thoughts poured into her mind of the millions across the world dying similarly, she cringed and hurried on, trying to leave her worries behind.

    The back bathroom was tiny and dirty, but it was quiet. She sat on the toilet and gazed through the small space between the thick boards they had put up over the window. A couple stars twinkled in the night sky, somehow persisting despite all the darkness around them. Looking down at her hands, she recalled hurling her crow bar through a vampire's chest, the rage that had filled her, spilling out in a perfect spear throw, something she had never done in her life. The anger had felt good, temporarily distracting from the horrible catastrophe surrounding her. But as her father fell, she couldn't find the strength to be angry, or to do anything else. Only the cold, dead despair of losing one's beloved parent crashed down on her. Tears ringed her eyes as she remembered and she held her head in her hands.

    As tears streamed down her cheeks, she suddenly heard the boards covering the bathroom window burst open, flinging splinters of wood at her hands and exposed forearms. Before she could react, two combat boots slid through the open window and a tall, emaciated-looking vampire stood before her. She couldn't tell if it was male or female; its face was hideously disfigured, but with its glowing red eyes, bald head, deathly skin and protruding fangs, she had no doubt of its nature. It smiled hungrily down at her.

    As if toying with her, it let her frantically bolt for the bathroom door and even take a step outside before it moved toward her with blinding speed, grabbing her by the jersey and yanking her back into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. The vampire pulled her close, and as its mouth moved close to her neck, stopping just short, she felt a horrid disgust wash over her at its complete lack of breath. Within seconds she heard her grandmother and the weird priest banging on the door, trying to knock it down, but she knew they didn't have time. Even if they managed to get it open, the jaws of death were too close for anyone to rescue her.

    Closing her eyes, she felt all panic and anxiety flow out of her. She couldn't explain it and did not even try. A wave of peace and acceptance came over her, clearing her mind of all fear. Looking back at the vampire, who gazed back with mouth agape in shock, she smiled at it sympathetically.

    "I'm so sorry for you."

    With a growl, the vampire plunged its fangs into her neck. As the light dimmed and her life drained away, she heard another window break. The priest and her Grandma screamed, their horror counteracted by terrible howls like a wild wolf. Nicki knew they were as close to death as she, but the peace she felt did not abandon her. Silently, she prayed the priest and her Grandma would share her serenity as they died, and that maybe even the vampires could someday live again.