Chapter 33: Creating another hollow
Across town, a van drove at normal speed, cruising through the night’s express. The van reeked of blood and gunpowder. Four men sat inside, their tactical gear stained dark red from the night’s work. Steam rose from their clothes in the cold air.
"Third generation bastard nearly took my head off," Mendy said, pressing a field bandage against his neck. "Came at me with that blood whip bullshit. If Santos hadn’t put two rounds in its chest..."
"You’d be vampire chow," Santos finished, checking his rifle. "That’s what you get for underestimating them. Third gen and up, they’re a different breed entirely."
The rookie, Thompson, sat in the back seat trying not to look at the gore covering his vest. His hands shook as he cleaned his sidearm. "How do they do it? The blood magic?"
"Same way they do everything else," Mendy said. "By being unnatural freaks of nature. Third gens can manipulate their own blood, turn it into weapons. Second gens can use other people’s blood too. Gets worse from there."
Santos nodded. "Saw a Second gen once turn a man’s blood into acid. From the inside out. Poor bastard melted from his own veins."
"Jesus Christ," Thompson muttered.
"Christ’s got nothing to do with it, kid," Mendy said. "Been three hundred years since the Break. If God was paying attention, those things would’ve stayed dead."
The driver, Luke Chad, hadn’t said a word since they’d left the warehouse. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw clenched tight. The others had learned to give him space on nights like this.
"Remember that Third gen in Detroit?" Santos asked, lighting a cigarette. "Thing could make blood constructs. Actual shapes. Saw it create a fucking sword out of thin air."
"Yeah, and you nearly pissed yourself when it charged you," Mendy laughed.