The Blood Drinkers, Chapter 2

Three days later Curtis stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up to see Mingan smiling down at him. Climbing he took his place once again at the edge and looked off at the sun, which was thirty minutes from setting. On this occasion Curtis did not carry a stave or any hiking gear at all. He was dressed as before with fresh jeans and new shoes. The shoes on Mingan's feet matched those Curtis was wearing perfectly. Noticing Curtis looking at his footwear Mingan said, “You choose good footwear and these fit me well.”

Curtis nodded, “Three days ago I came to treat, not knowing what I was dealing with. Today I am better prepared and even better equipped. Will your master treat with me?”

Mingan smiled, his head not moving in any direction, “I cannot speak for him, but my guess is that he will not treat with you.”

“We could destroy this place.” said Curtis, gesturing at the woods and mountain side around them.

“Oh?” Mingan's eyebrow went up a notch over one eye.

“We have some of the old weapons. It would not be impossible for us as you might think.”

“Why waste weapons, just go around, leave us to ourselves and we will not trouble you.” Both men knew that was not the way of the new order, but sometimes words had to be said to make other words come out.

“Why not discuss this with us? There is the possibility of an alliance.”

Mingan shook his head slowly from side to side, “With such as you? There is no possibility. We compete for a limited resource. Are your preparations for tonight so much better than the last?”

“My resources are boundless, my own masters relentless, they will see this thing done.”

“Then let us start again. You are the first to live for a second meeting. I may not see you for a third, what are you called?” asked Mingan.

“Curtis. You are called?”

“Mingan.”

“It is good to know you, Mingan.”

“It was good to know you, Curtis. May I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.” said Curtis.

“Why are you here?”

Curtis considered the question before answering, Mingan knew he was here because he had been sent by those in power above him, so that was not the question he wanted an answer for, finally he said, “They want to make sure there are not any enemies at their backs, ones who could cause trouble or bring on an uprising. Why are you here?”

“The zombies devour everything in their path, they do not negotiate; they destroy. I find I would rather go down fighting to make a difference than spend the rest of my life running.”

“You could go to the mid-west?”

Shaking his head Mingan said, “They are wise to us now, there are few secrets anymore. I approached them after binding myself to my current master and that...could have been a mistake. I think had I done things differently I would not be right here, right now.”

“I don't think anyone will accept your allies.”

Mingan nodded, his eyes never leaving Curtiss, “I tend to agree. The mistakes I made when I was younger will have to be paid for in blood now.”

“You could just walk away, go South, towards Florida or even further.”

“Run. You mean run away. No,” Mingan shook his head sadly, “I don't believe there is anywhere I could run. Now is the time to bloody the nose of the aggressor. And that, really, is why I am here.”

“Well our noses don't bloody easily.”

“We have managed a few times.”

Curtis nodded solemnly, “True, but it will not win the war. You are too few. You should consider that in the next few days.”

“I shall. Do you want to go in now?”

“Of course.”

Curtis started forward and Mingan ducked sideways and spun his leg out in a sweeping gesture to try and trip the zombie up. Curtis had trained in martial arts with some of the fastest creatures ever to walk the Earth, Mingan's leg swept his out from under him, breaking his shin in the process. The creature called Mingan was far, far faster than any Curtis had seen before.

A clawed hand sped towards his face with a blur, talons reflecting the sun for a moment before they the struck. Curtis's hand knocked the claw away a split second before it could split his head open, his body was flung backwards yet he managed to kick out with his legs and contact some part of Mingan that he couldn't see. His concerns diminished, once again, to simply getting away alive. Twisting his body around he launched himself by pushing his arms away from the ground, the force he used was enough to propel him onto the wall a few feet and from there he scrambled to the top, much as he had done the day before.

Reaching the crest he pulled himself over with Curtis at his heels, the man no longer resembled a human being so much as a furry, clawed beast of raging destruction. The small clearing above was empty, but near the tree line he saw wolves, heavy, black furred creatures that stood about chest high to him, their yellow eyes looked at him with no concern as he stood.

Curtis's leg was healed, the bone as strong as it had been before breaking, he stepped into the clearing away from Mingan who finished the climb behind him. Reaching his hand into his shirt Curtis pulled out a small machine pistol and a glass test tube filled with a bloody, half coagulated liquid. Transferring the pistol to one hand he aimed the pistol at Mingan.

“My, you are a big, big boy.” he said, popping the cork off the tube while keeping the pistol steady. He fired three bursts, striking Mingan at least once, the creature that had replaced the man spun and darted for the woods. Laughing Curtis tossed back the test tube, feeling the elixir rush into his body. The rage of the super concentrated blood was a heady feeling and some small inner part of his mind was screaming incoherently in fear as he dropped the machine pistol and rushed the surrounding wolves with just his bare hands.

The first wolf lunged forward to meet the berserk zombie, but it was a feint, Curtis's hands found only empty air as another creature lunged in and clamped it's jaw on his ankle. Curtis stopped, took a stumbling step forward and then drew himself up, arms stretched out wide, he howled into the setting sun like a banshee. The surrounding wolves paused, unsure of themselves for the first time; they were used to their quarry fleeing. This was something new, they cautiously reevaluated Curtis as he continued to howl in rage. Curtis was transforming, his chest enlarged, with muscles rippling like a tide that ripped his tight shirt into shreds, his shoes and pants fared no better as the rest of his body enlarged into inhuman proportions.

The pack did not wait for the transformation to end before launching their attack. The first creature took Curtis's right arm off at the elbow. Blood spurted in an arc twenty feet into the air but before the wolf could escape with his prize Curtis's left hand spun around and clamped onto the back of his head. The wolf died as the zombie's hand crushed its furry skull between an enormous thumb and forefinger. Shaking his right hand out the blood dripping from his arm seemed to coagulate and form into thin white bones, with pallid flesh quickly snaking around the newly regenerated arm. In the distance, howls called to the pack, but the howls were responding to Curtis, not to the wolves. Grimly the wolves surrounded their prey and harried it instinctively in a manner developed through thousands of years of evolution.

Three more wolves died by the zombies hands before they hamstrung it and brought it to the ground. Even a zombie needed legs to maneuver, once on the ground Curtis was pinned down with wolves gripping his arms and legs and pulling them apart as if the deadly combat was merely a game of tug of war.

Curtis's body was pulled completely off of the ground and the zombie started to laugh. He tossed his head back and insane laughter poured from his throat, then he stared to pull, slowly, inexorably, his hands and legs compacted. Mingan rejoined the battle, clamping down on the zombie's genitals and bringing a howl of pain and fear from the creature. Ripping into Curtis's inner thigh Mingan felt bone beneath his muzzle. The zombie spun tossing wolves aside and it righted itself and fled towards the tree line. The wolves bayed in triumph and pursued.

Slowly the alchemical potion wore off and Curtis regained more of himself. The spurting, torn flesh of his leg stopped bleeding before he had gone fifty paces from where the wolves had brought him down. Naked and running through the woods with a pack of wolves behind him Curtis began to know fear once more.

As he passed through the pine trees he came across several of his soldiers, all dead, pieces scattered far and wide. The fear grew stronger after passing his failed ambush lending strength to his run. Soon he was miles from Mingan's lair and his body was aching with a form of fatigue only the new rulers of mankind could feel.

Curtis knew where he had to go, he knew what ingesting the concentrated blood would do to him, which is why there was a cache of supplies just a few more miles distant. He hadn't thought that tonight's activities would fail, but had planned for it, just in case. His fear was replaced with resolve as he shifted course and headed to the cache.

The wolves followed the zombie into the narrow valley like quiet gray ghosts. Mingan wanted to taste his adversary's blood once more on his lips, he wanted to finish the fight with this creature tonight, but abruptly he stopped and let loose a cautionary yip that warned the other's near him to veer away from their quarry. Not a moment too soon as explosives ripped through the stand of pine ahead of them. Pellets saturated the forest striking several of the wolves and causing them to yelp in agony.

Silver. In the old world silver was not the most expensive metal in the world, but the amount expended in the explosion would still have been worth a small fortune. Mingan was not unwounded himself, but curiosity compelled him forward to see what Curtis was doing. He almost missed seeing the zombie's silhouette crest the mountain at the end of the valley.

The pack wanted to pursue, but Mingan forbade it, they were outside of their territory now and one ambush would only lead to another and another beyond that. Now was the time to lick their wounds and wait; Curtis would be back.