Vigil by Craig Saunders, C. R. Saunders

together. Be careful. Proceed with extreme caution.’
    ‘Got it.’
    ‘One minute. Counting down. Out.’
    Kappa nodded to his team. ‘Weapons ready.’
    Six men in all. Kappa was the last of Fallon Corps’ security force. The rest had died in the last few years, as the vampires had grown stronger and smarter. This team was just as good – if not better. They had been fighting vampires since the fall. Those too weak to fight had fallen in battle already. The survivors learned how to fight the hard way. They had fought vampires in the streets with nothing but civilian weapons. They had only had minimal training in military tactics, but what they lacked in finesse they made up for in guts.
    Each man wore black flak jackets, black combat trousers. They were armed with automatic pistols on the right and a silver coated dagger on the left. The dagger was a last resort. If a vampire got close enough for it to be any use, chances were you’d go down with the vampire. All were armed with semi-automatic machine guns with net guns on their backs. Two of his team had flame throwers.
    There was one addition that wasn’t required, but somewhere along the line it had become a superstition among Kappa’s men – silver crosses under their vests. They seemed to believe wearing silver would stop them from turning. Thankfully their theory hadn’t been tested yet.
    Jean began the countdown in Kappa’s ear. Each man would be hearing the same thing.
    ‘Ten…nine…’
    Kappa took the handle to the ramp. A bolted door, six feet thick, protected the complex. The bombing hadn’t made a dent.
    The turrets opened fire. Kappa couldn’t hear the explosions from below, but he could feel the tremors under his feet.
    ‘Four…’
    Kappa pulled the handle out and turned it. There were no locks on the door. It could only be opened from inside.
    ‘Two…’
    The door opened inward.
    All but one of the team charged out into a night that was alive with fire and thunderous explosions.
    They ran in standard formation, two men on each wing, Kappa on point. One hundred yards through the burning night to the three survivors standing in the open. They didn’t move even though the air hummed with chain gun fire and rockets that thumped into cars and buildings. Kappa marvelled at their composure. But then perhaps it was just terror.
    The team ran through the corridor of fire.
    ‘Sal, to the rear!’ he shouted over the roar of fire and explosions. Sal dropped back and dropped to one knee, scanning the night. They had one advantage over the vampires – they could see. The vampires should be blinded by the flashes of explosion.
    The survivors were shivering despite the heat of the explosions and the ring of fire.
    As soon as they were in range he gave the order.
    ‘Fire!’
    The three men on his flanks planted their feet as Kappa dropped back and covered them.
    In unison three nets spread and fell over each of the survivors.
    ‘Go!’ shouted the commander. His men each took one survivor and began dragging them roughly over the earth, onto the broken road, toward the waiting entrance.
    Sal took up the rear guard again as the men strained against the weight of their captives and pulled them into the entrance.
    Kappa was the last in. Philipe twisted, then pushed the handle in and the door shut.
    Everyone was panting from the exertion, even Philipe who had been charged with guarding the door. They looked down at their captives.
    Kappa turned them over and examined them. He wouldn’t talk to them until they were cleared from solitary. He’d learned his lesson years ago. Talking to the infected only made killing them harder.
    The girl smiled at him and he smiled back before he could stop himself.
    He turned the woman over. She was dead weight. Strapped to her back was a hand held radio.
    It was turned on.
    He stared at it for a moment, puzzled.
    ‘Oh, fuck.’
    ‘What is it?’
    Kappa slid down against the wall, staring at the woman. ‘No signal