RAF Hereford, England 8:00pm
Captain Staunton sat at the back of the empty bus, his beret in his lap, watching the military base beyond flowing past outside. The whole place was still operating, and was even busier than he remembered Camp Bastion had been during the height of the Afghan war. Columns of black uniformed soldiers marched past in full kit, accomapanied by jet black Humvees, loaned by the American Division to replace the lightly armoured Land Rovers the SAS normally used. As Staunton watched the lights from the base blaze out into the night, he heard the thunder of engines and a huge Boeing C-17 Globemaster roared overhead to land in the airfield beyond.
Never before had he seen this place at such a frantic pace, not even during the buildup to Peles Castle and the mad rush to get troops out to the Italian airbase after the destruction at Volterra had there been such a rush of activity. The SAS captain still remembered the discussion he had had with the rest of his squad, after they had got over the horrors of Peles Castle and its subsequent destruction, how this conflict could only escalate further.
He didn't know how really. All he had been hearing from friends in other units had been positive. His friend Takeo in the 707th Battalion from South Korea had been updating him on progress in Asia, where they had been almost constantly on operations to clear jungles and ancient ruins of vampire populations fleeing from the unlikely alliance of both North and South Korean, Chinese and Indian special forces, along with countless other small units. Across the Atlantic, word from a contact in the Canadian Special Operations Regiment had also been equally uplifting, where a large scale operation in Washington State had destroyed the reclusive Olympic Coven and its werewolf allies, which to be honest nobody in Ultra Vector had expected, although word was another separate unit was being prepared to root out the so called 'Children of the Moon'.
For the European Division, however, things didn't seem as successful. He had received news of General Uberto's death in the failed clearing of the Egyptian coven which, by the time a seven thousand strong relief force, composed of both European and African Ultra Vector and regular army troops had been deployed, the vampire army had caused chaos and destruction across the entirety of Cairo. In all the total death count were over four thousand men, women and children and still rising, as the masses of humans infected were swiftly put down. Staunton couldn't see how the 'Cairo Incident' would be resolved, although for the UN task force anything seemed possible, as Volterra and Peles Castle had somehow been covered up despite the smoking craters they had become.
But he pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind as the bus turned into the small housing estate for the families of the SAS personnel. Staunton had seen so much death and madness in the past week to last him for a lifetime, and only the knowledge that his wife Samantha and four year old daughter Lucy were safe and well, and waiting for him right there at his house at the end of the road brought a smile to the face of the stony faced officer. As the bus slowed at the stop Staunton picked up his heavy kitbag from under his seat and walked to the exit doors, nodding at the elderly driver, a veteran soldier who had fought during the Iranian Embassy siege thirty years ago, and stepping off.
As the bus drove off and he stood alone in the cool night air under the bright streetlamp, Staunton took a deep breath. Above the full moon rode high in the dark sky above, lighting up the empty street with a silvery hue.
Hearing a rustling in the bushes nearby Staunton put a hand to the Magnum at his belt instinctively but stopped as a small bird flew off into the night.
"Getting jumpy there…" he muttered to himself with a grin and set off down the street, the cold night air coming out of his mouth in faint clouds of vapour.
Strolling along the street, the SAS captain felt as if a great weight had been taken from his shoulders. For now, safe within one of the most heavily guarded installations in Britain, he could finally relax, if only for a while. He knew that the campaign wouldn't stop anytime soon, but at least, for a day or two, he was back home with his girls, and he was determined to enjoy their company for as long as he could.
Reaching the familiar detached house at the end of the street, Staunton strolled down the garden path, past Samantha's old Vauxhall Astra and up to the familiar wood front door. Unlocking it quietly and stepping inside Staunton closed it behind him and called out.
"Sam! Lucy! I'm home!"
He shrugged at the silence. Samantha had probably fallen asleep in front of the TV again with Lucy after waiting for him. He knew how anxious she got when he was out on tour, and the fact he had disappeared overnight to fight in Italy, with only a letter from the regiment commander about 'unexpected events' to explain his absence, he understood her anxiety. However now, with him home and their little family complete, for however little time he had, Staunton knew her mind would be at ease again.
As he walked down the gloomy hallway though, he sensed something amiss in the air, something that smelt weird and out of place. Despite himself, he felt a finger instinctively reach for the pistol at his belt.
Pushing open the door to the kitchen, the SAS captain tried to relax. Samantha and Lucy were probably just about to spring a surprise party on him, like they had last time he came back from Afghanistan. It hadn't been anything big, only the three of them and a cheap cake from the local Sainsbury's but it had just felt so good to the tough soldier to actually sit down with his family and try and be normal.
What he saw when he entered the kitchen though, nothing could have prepared him for.
As he flicked on the light, he felt himself doing a double take before his mind finally caught up with what his body was experiencing. The raw emotions he felt as he looked at the room could barely be contained within him, but the only word that could come to his mouth was a simple.
"No." he said softly as he looked straight forwards, and again, repeated over and over again like a quiet mantra, barely conveying the emotions boiling to the surface.
But still it was there.
The blood.
So much of it. Daubed on the walls like a crazy piece of modern art, the crimson paste had been literally thrown everywhere.
Staunton had never seen so much blood in his life.
And he knew only two people would have been at his house at this time.
Right at the centre of the crimson mess in the trashed room, he could see three words, carved into the wall by unnatural strength, deep gouges like the ones already gathering in Staunton's soul.
He is risen.
The words were almost mocking him as he moved forward, not even caring if the undead monster that made them was nearby. All he knew was, if one did jump him, vampire or not, he would tear its throat out in a heartbeat. These freaks had killed the only family he had left and only given him pain and suffering in return.
He found Samantha's head in the corner by the smashed up oven, casually left there as if it was some kind of sick gift to him. It was only as he went towards it, with no real idea what he would do when he reached it, that he saw the piece of paper stuffed in its mouth, rammed in as far as it would go.
Gently lifting it out, barely holding back tears, Staunton opened it up and felt his heart sink even further. On the bloodstained paper was a drawing he remembered Lucy making before he left for Italy, the word 'Daddy' drawn out in the unmistakable handwriting of a four year old writing in orange crayon.
He turned it over, and felt a wave of rage and sorrow overcome him as he looked down at, drawn in the same orange crayon, but in different handwriting.
"Boom…" he said softly, reading off the paper, then crumpled it up slowly and hurled it away.
Taking off his black field uniform he tenderly laid it out over Samantha's severed head, closing her eyes with two fingers before kissing her on the forehead.
That's when he broke.
With tears flowing freely down his face, he carefully took his radio from his belt and pressed the red panic button on the top.
The next thing he knew he had slid down the trashed oven and just sat in a heap, tears now staining his once hard face.
However long it had been he didn't know but, as the sound of sirens, engines and the whir of a helicopter filled his ears from outside, the broken SAS captain had ears for only one voice, which now came towards him.
"Daddy?"
Looking up, Staunton almost forgot about the horror he had just witnessed, but when he saw the crimson in his daughter's eyes as she stood in the doorway, he could barely bring his right hand to reach for his holster and draw his weapon, aiming it in firm hands straight at his only child's forehead.
"I'm sorry…" he said softly and fired.
The Rapid Reaction Force broke through the door a second later, their leader Commander Miller of the Russian Spetnatz first through, his heavy Saiga automatic shotgun raised. The rest of the squad behind him he led the way forward, ready for anything as they heard a volley of shots from the kitchen up ahead.
But what he saw as he barreled into that kitchen he would never had expected.
The SAS captain was rocking back and forth, his empty Magnum lying next to his trembling hands, a small unmoving body a few centimeters from him, an expression of pure hunger on the young girl's angelic features.
"Sir?" Miller said softly, putting away the commission papers he had been about to hand the soldier, the promotion this man would never have wanted. The burly Spetnatz man didn't have the heart to tell the defeated SAS captain that he had just received word from command that they were to move at first light in the morning.
All he did was crouch down next to the captain, his gun clattering to the floor and, to the complete surprise of the rest of the squad, who knew Miller as a cold hearted bastard at the best of times, did one thing that they never would have thought he would ever do.
He embraced him.
Holding him close, the bearlike soldier didn't say anything, only listened to the heartbreaking sobs of this man, who had been completely destroyed in a matter of minutes.
In-between the sobs though, Miller could just make out one phrase, which Staunton just kept repeating, over and over again.
He is risen.