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

anger, when Harrington put a
calming hand on his shoulder and motioned him to relax. Johnson was
a likable man whose quick wit was one of the few things that
relieved the terrible pressure they all felt. He stood six foot
three and was well muscled. Harris got on well with Johnson but his
loyalty was unquestionably to Dan Harrington. He too was obviously
worried about Harrington’s health and, with nowhere else for his
frustration to go, he tended to react physically to anything or
anybody who threatened the older man.
    Harris didn’t know all the
details but Harrington had known Johnson before the vampires had
come. Harrington had seemingly given the man the benefit of the
doubt when he had come out of prison when no one else would.
Harrington had returned the man’s pride by offering his trust and
he had never had cause to regret it.
    Lucy Irving, a matronly woman of
indeterminable age, sat beside Johnson. She was terribly pale and,
positioned so close to Johnson’s massive dark figure; she seemed
uncommonly ashen and frail. She was neither though, Harris knew.
Lucy Irving had vast, hidden resources of inner strength and had a
brain that was, by no means, dulled with age. Harris could see her
shift her gaze between the two antagonists as if she were at a
tennis match. Her hand lay poised over a half-filled page of the
meeting’s minutes, pen at the ready. It’s funny, he thought, no
matter how circumstances changed people still tended to gravitate
to similar job roles in life.
    Scott and Bill Anderson came
next in line. The twins shared the same easygoing attitude, a fact
reflected in how they carried themselves and dressed. Their fresh
faces, blue eyes and blond hair belied their sharp minds--until
they spoke, that is. Then it became evident there was more to them
than was evident at first.
    To Harrington’s left sat John
Kelly, a wiry, un-likable man who could cause adverse emotions in a
complete stranger within minutes of their first meeting without
even trying. Kelly was an enigma to Harris. It was impossible to
engage the man in conversation and when you did manage to he had an
un-nerving tendency to look past you when he talked. Harris
couldn’t find it in him to trust anyone who couldn’t look him in
the eyes. Kelly was argumentative; he seemed to relish taking the
opposing side in an argument, in fact in any argument, even if he
had argued previously on the other side. But, despite all that, he
pulled his weight as his actions on yesterday’s raid had proved so
Harris tried his best to overlook his other failings.
    Next to him sat Sandra
Harrington, strong-minded, independent and the daughter of “The
Boss,” as she referred to her father. Sandra Harrington wore her
hair tied tightly in a bun, though her long locks seemed to have a
mind of their own and constantly tried to free themselves. Even now
Harris could see a few errant strands that had fallen down and now
framed her pert, almost elfish features. She had green eyes which
seemed to spark with fire like flint over stone when she was angry
but also seemed to be able to turn to soft pools that Harris
constantly found himself lost in when he spoke to her.
    These weekly meetings were not
the best forum to talk with her the way he wanted to and most of
their relationship so far had been lingering glances over this
table with the heady smell of fuel and stale fish in the air. Not
ideal by any means. There seemed to be something between them but
they had never had the time to let it develop. They were always
surrounded by others. Sometimes they managed to walk along the
docks for a few moments before they had to return to their
zombie-like existence but even then they had to keep an eye out for
the vampires and their stolen moments were usually spent looking
more at the sky than at each other. It was difficult to move a
relationship forward when you never got to talk to each other.
Harris wished for an opportunity to talk to her properly, to walk
with her