Vampire Apocalypse: A World Torn Asunder (Book 1) by Derek Gunn

a hand on his shoulder any
second.
    The machine was designed to
inject the right arm with serum. The rebels normally coated their
right forearms with a skin coloured sack that gave the impression
they had received their usual dose. It wasn’t an ideal solution,
but a combination of luck and general apathy among the thralls had
worked in their favour until now. Anticipating that the last attack
would elicit some sort of check on that arm, they had switched the
packs to the left instead. Aligning the left arm was quite awkward
and, if they survived today’s check, they would have to come up
with another plan from now on.
    The pressure relaxed and Harris
felt relief flood through him. He withdrew his arm, resisting the
impulse to pull his arm out quickly, and started for the exit in
the slow, awkward gait that typified the others around him. His
heart thumped as he passed the first thrall and he suppressed the
urge to pick up the pace. He could see the door ahead but the queue
ahead of him seemed to move so slowly that it seemed it would take
him hours to get outside. He began to take shorter breaths as he
tried to calm himself but his heart thumped faster. He forced
himself to look down at the ground and not at the thralls in case
this attracted their attention but this meant that he would have no
warning of their intentions if they came towards him. He …
    Suddenly a hand gripped his
shoulder and two other thralls began to move ahead of him to block
his path. He tried to keep his face expressionless but he could
feel his mouth twitch as adrenaline flooded through him. Should he
run? He might even make it if he acted before the thralls were
fully ready for him. There were another two thralls at the door so
he would have to get past them as well and then somehow lose
himself in the crowd.
    The thralls were not only
stronger than humans; they were faster as well so running wasn’t
really an option. But he couldn’t just let them take him either.
His mind filled with horrendous images of what they would do to him
to get to the others. There would be no human rights observed and
there was no way he would be able to hold out for long. Better to
die trying to escape that give them the pleasure of torturing him.
Outwardly he remained calm, but, in contrast, his mind frantically
weighed his limited options. Decided on his course of action,
Harris felt a calm suddenly wash over him and he prepared to run.
The thrall on his right moved much quicker than he had expected and
grabbed his left arm. Harris froze for a second instead of
immediately pulling his arm away and that moment of indecision
saved his life. A commotion suddenly broke out to his right and the
thrall holding his arm was distracted as he looked beyond Harris
towards the noise.
    Harris couldn’t see clearly and
dared not move his head but he could see a commotion of some sort.
Suddenly he saw a man brake from the queue. In his haste to get to
the exit he knocked two thralls over who bellowed in outrage as
they struggled back to their feet. Shouts and obscenities filled
the small room and thralls seemed to come from everywhere at once
to give chase. Harris nearly fainted with relief when the two
guards who had stopped him turned and disappeared after the
fugitive. Shots rang out and Harris cringed with every retort.
Bullets flew after the man, but somehow the first volley missed
him, tearing chunks out of the wall and ceiling instead. Harris
watched as the man reached the door, and he willed him on. For a
minute it looked like he might actually make it, but then one of
the thralls shouted in triumph.
    The man jerked as a bullet
ripped into his left shoulder. The force of the impact spun the man
around and sent him sprawling to the floor and Harris saw his face
for the first time. Powell! He thought. My God he’s only twenty
years old.
    The thralls were on him in a
second. They kicked and punched Powell viciously until finally he
lay still and unmoving. Harris boiled