Author's Note #1: If you, dear reader, hated the initial form of the last chapter, I'm not surprised, because I hated it too. It was poorly written and completely derivative of the climax of Eclipse. William's reaction to losing his arm was completely ridiculous. In theory, it was important to have the symmetry of William and Garrett fighting in two consecutive chapters. In reality, vampire versus vampire action for two straight chapters is boring to write (though fun to read). In short: I got lazy. I have rewritten the chapter. You need not reread it, as the gist of the action (William and Garrett fight and discover vampires can reassemble themselves, Susan transforms) is the same. However, the fight, the lost body part and who lost it, and everyone's character is different in the first half (though most of the second half is the same). The old chapter has disappeared onto my computer for eternity. But for those who are already reading, as kind as you have all been, I felt I owed you an explanation and an apology, and this is it, along with a new chapter.
Author's Note #2: The nature of the chapter to chapter time jumps is very different from now on. My only explanation is that it's more effective for the story, and I'm obsessed with Lost.
12. OVER THERE (1918)
Hmm. Germans didn't taste any better on this side of the Atlantic than they did on the other. Not that they tasted bad, per se. Their blood was very metallic, not particularly sweet. I wondered what the French would taste like.
No, they were allies. The British too. Though they were a tad more tempting. Old grudges were hard to forget.
Time to get back to my own side of No Man's Land, I supposed. Thinning the ranks of German troops was fun and all, but being with other soldiers was as much a part of this endeavor as anything else. It was amazing how much I'd missed life in the army until I'd finally been able to return.
Of course I'd fought in every American war since the Revolution, but this was different. I could actually be a soldier. Perhaps the dirtiest soldier in my whole division, but a soldier nonetheless. After all, we spent most of our time behind mounds of dirt, even lived in dirt holes. And the artillery that was constantly firing gave the sky a gray shadow of smoke and dust. The sun did not come out here very often. It was a rather nice way to live, with no sun. Less time to be with my thoughts. That was certainly not a place I wanted to be.
The artillery shell burst right next to me. I was blown back from the body I'd just finished. I loved the pain. My body and mind savored it again. This war was the first time I'd felt it without another vampire around. I liked that I'd found a new way to feel pain besides my own species, even if this was not as great a challenge.
Yes, this new type of warfare was fun in so many ways. It was actually dangerous, even for me.
I looked down at my stomach. The explosion of the shell had been hot enough to get through the skin, to dig a hole in my gut. Peculiar, it was almost the exact spot where I'd taken the bayonet, over a century before. But this wound wouldn't kill, though that one would have. Or, perhaps, did.
Time to get back across, I realized, as the skies lightened from a new dawn. My commanding officer already trusted me little, and why should he? I had come to the unit with stolen papers and a name I did not know, and I never responded to. Every time he called the name Willis, I barely noticed. I was not used to having a fake name. And, of course, there was my lust for the fight.
I'd had to kill an American doughboy to enter this fray, and for that I felt very guilty, more so every day as I got to know my new compatriots. With a few million American men now entered in the fight, it was far harder for officers to keep track of the comings and goings of individual soldiers. But my hair was long, my body was always dirty – or at least my face, neck, and hands after a few minutes of covering up each morning – and I fought with a reckless abandon that none of the other soldiers demonstrated. I should be dead already, and he knew it.
I returned from No Man's Land and across our trench line far too quickly and quietly for anyone to notice, and was back under my blanket before our company was roused, feigning sleep. We had an important day ahead of us.
A new offensive was underway, and the AEF had an important part to play, for perhaps the first time in this war. The Germans held a train depot and the nearby town of Verdun, and we were to push them back, to cut off the supplies they received from the train.
I pretended I did not hear Anthony when he spoke my fake name. "Willis. Time to get up. We're going across the line today!"
He was scared, not excited, and the exclamation in his voice was for the danger. I couldn't blame him. This war was dangerous for me. For him, it could be a death sentence. I felt guilty for a moment, that I knew I wouldn't die, but I hoped my bravado was helpful. He would not flee, so he might as well have my genuine high spirits.
"Hell yeah we are!" I said, and opened my eyes, grinning widely. My enthusiasm did not have the effect that I hoped it would.
"Are you crazy?" Anthony asked. "Do you want to die?"
"I want some action. I want to kill Germans. If dying is part of that, then all the more reason to have some fun. We only live once." Even if that once was forever for me. And yes, I did want to die.
I pulled off my blanket, and Anthony jerked. Dammit, I'd forgotten the wound had ripped through my clothes.
"What happened? There's blood on that tear," he asked.
"Nothing. Just ripped my uniform on some barbed wire." I looked down at my shirt. How I missed my old jacket. Could I ever find anything to replace it? "Time to kill someone." I wanted to be away from the subject.
We were going over the trenches and No Man's Land today, following new contraptions called tanks that were supposed to help. A lot of Americans were going to die. Maybe I could lessen that number a little.
As we lined up in formation, I thought about how strange it was, to straddle the line between vampire and human. The scent was almost nothing, there were so many other scents in the air, though the blood of the wounded made it difficult, and I occasionally lapsed. I stayed away from infirmaries and held my breath around fallen brothers as much as possible, though I doubted I would be called a brother were any of my unit to find out the truth about me.
I had to move quickly when in battle. I could not allow my fellow soldiers to know when I was hit by the German bullets, and a few times it was impossible not to move ahead of the line and take out a few Germans before the rest actually reached the lines. I could have destroyed most of them, but I always kept Mary's rule in my head, cautious that I might reveal my true nature.
The weather was still like summer here in September, much like Philadelphia. The cold was nowhere near approaching, even without the sun to warm things up. The sun was effective despite the haze of constant artillery.
I loved the artillery. It burned hot, it could kill me. It was…dangerous. The only dangerous thing I'd ever found besides other vampires. Nothing would ever match the danger of others of my species, but it was refreshing to be in danger, and to have a cause to put myself in front of it. I would return to fighting my own kind when this was over, but I was glad for a new challenge. My favorite pastime in this war was to throw myself in front of other Americans when artillery would land, just to feel the effects. I couldn't fight it, but I could stop it.
"Are you ready for this?" William asked. No, not William, Anthony. I shuddered at my strange thought, that I could link Anthony to my torment, could remember a time when the relationship between William and I had been so different.
"I can't wait!" I said, and smirked at him. William rubbed off on me in a few ways at least. I hadn't learned to smirk until my new life. Or perhaps this was the fourth life? Perhaps I was catlike in more than my agility?
Anthony only looked at me, and I saw in his eyes my own, the eyes of a madman.
It's not about the kill, I thought, it's about the fight. My new refrain. My new life. I barely enjoyed the taste of the blood anymore. It was how I got to the blood now that mattered. I didn't even care if it was blood, as long as I had an objective, an objective that could kill me in its pursuit. A good fight was all I wanted, and it was all that excited me. I was incapable of anything besides destruction, but I felt excitement when that destruction could destroy me as well. Excitement was my favorite emotion.
The battle was unending for my brothers after it began. I remembered the old days, when a battle was fought in a few days. Now, battles were fought over months, and a few yards gained were great victories. Were my purpose the same as before, when my desire was to win above all else, to ensure our freedom, I might have felt remorse. But I wanted the battle to continue, and it was very obliging.
Anthony died on October 16, 1918. I had crossed the lines and was weakening the German defense. I never touched the artillery, for it was too far from the lines, and because I enjoyed the threat of it, and it was the artillery that killed him. I found his body as I returned. The blood was dried and no longer flowing. He was trapped in barbed wire, the back of his coat caught when he'd tried to crawl underneath. The Germans had shot him in the back and the head, though it was the shrapnel from a shell that had thrown him into the fence.
I ripped the wire away and hefted him quickly over my shoulder, back towards our line of defense. I did not look at his face. I enjoyed interacting with the soldiers when they were alive, but I had seen far too much death now. My relationships were always superficial, part of the fun.
As soon as we were across the defense line, I laid his body on the ground and returned to the fight. Someone would find him soon, and his body would be taken care of. I removed my helmet, a foolish looking thing, and nodded once to my fallen brother. I had death to attend to.
Our advance was slow. I carried many others back from the lines, some of whom would recover, some of whom would not.
I was reorganized into the first army, intent on taking the train depot, when our losses became too heavy. My brothers became disillusioned with the war, as so many had, as the losses mounted with each day, with each foot we gained. Was one foot of ground worth so much blood? Not to them, I was sure. They understood the reluctance of the British and the French, even if I did not.
I did not like to ponder where I would go when this war was over. Staying in the moment was my only objective.
Our advance to the train depot lasted to the end of the war. I was shocked when I heard the news of armistice, and dismayed when the armistice lasted. I had nowhere else to go. I did not want to return to America. I did not want to keep fighting my own kind.
If I was capable of crying, I would have done so on November the eleventh of 1918. I'd had a purpose, if only for a short time, but I'd lost it now.
Thank God I met Daniel.