enabled entry and egress from the structure. Trapped inside the improvised prison were about twenty miserable, emaciated humans. At least half of them lay on the bare floor while the other half stood listlessly at the bars, staring with blank eyes, seemingly unaware of their surroundings. Two armed men stood guard outside.
Sam tore his eyes away from them, aware that he was breathing more heavily. He felt the onset of what he now considered his ‘blood fury’ mode; a time when his irises went from black to red and his anger took complete control of his body. His suppressed it with an effort. The time would come when he would welcome the anger with open arms, but not quite yet.
A part of his mind detached itself from his emotions as he scanned the rest of the area with a practiced warrior’s eye. Not counting the prisoners but including the two guards outside, there were about ten humans currently up and about within the walls of the warehouse. All up, there were probably thirty people he would have to contend with if or when it came to a fight. Too many, even for him.
In order to get to the cage, he’d have to descend through the sleeping area of the warehouse. The walkway ran along the entire inner wall but unfortunately had only one access point. That point was a metal ladder fixed to the side of the wall which just happened to be right next to a mattress that was currently covered by a human occupant. Sneaking through those sleeping forms without being noticed — that was doable. He was rather adept by now at clinging to the shadows, and the uncertain light in the warehouse was an incredible bonus. This, combined with his exceptional senses, meant he had an advantage. Was it enough, though, to balance their strength of numbers? Perhaps. Providing of course that he didn’t wake anyone up. If he could take out the ten humans currently awake without any of the others noticing, he had a chance. If he slipped up, his chances of survival were remote. And that was just against the humans. If some demons decided to join the fray, he truly was doomed.
Inwardly sighing, he crept along the walkway, his footsteps incredibly light, ensuring that he shifted his weight subtly to compensate for the movement of the wood beneath his feet. He made absolutely no sound. When he reached the ladder, Sam paused momentarily to reassess. He looked beneath him. Still no one had noticed him; the sleepers slept on and the others carried on completely oblivious to the danger that floated above them.
He took the ladder two steps at a time, his long legs easily able to stretch the distance. Within moments, Sam was down, hugging the wall and the shadows. The nearest cot was so close he could have stretched out and touched the human occupant. It was a man, lying on his side with his back to him, covered in a grimy blanket.
Sam was about to move again when the man coughed and rolled over. For whatever reason — maybe his sixth sense alerted him, maybe it was a completely random reflex; it hardly mattered — the man opened his eyes, his stare finding Sam as if deliberate. Time seemed to stretch. It was possibly no more than a couple of seconds, but in that time, Sam saw a number of emotions in those eyes: denial, realization and stunned shock. The man’s eyes widened, his mouth began to open. Without realizing that he had moved, Sam was next to him, one of his hands clamped over the stranger’s mouth. His Wakizashi was already out. In a controlled, thrifty movement, the blade moved out and then quickly in, straight through the man’s throat.
Sam held him down until his death throes were finished. It was only then that he looked up — straight into the pupils of the person in the next cot along. He was sitting up, staring with horror at the scene unfolding next to him.
Before Sam had time to react, the man screamed out an alarm.
Chapter Eight
“ They sacrificed to demons, which are not God- gods they had not known, gods that recently appeared, gods your fathers did not fear.”
C ursing under his breath, Sam darted through the dirty sheet that marked off the sleeping area from the rest of the warehouse. It fluttered about him like washing in a fierce wind, and he used the momentary distraction to draw his other sword — the long to the Wakizashi’s short. His Katana. His most treasured possession and an object that was closer to him than any brother. Sam’s instincts told him that another man, fully awake with adrenaline coursing through his body, was just past the sheet.
Sam knew exactly where the man was; knew with absolute certainty that the man had a shotgun that was even now being swiveled in his direction. He could even smell the iron pellets that the shotgun was loaded with. Sam could take no risks. A shotgun with iron shells at close range could seriously incapacitate even him.
Both swords emerged out of the sheet even before Sam had, looking like a silvery extension of the material. The man armed with the shotgun probably wasn’t even aware that death was upon him, only that something vaguely man-shaped was moving through the sheet. His finger was on the trigger and he’d almost rotated the barrel of his gun in Sam’s direction, ready to fire, when the blades punctured him. The man up at the figure that suddenly hulked over him, flinching from the fiery eyes; glancing down at the two blades protruding from his chest, he coughed once and then promptly died.
Sam didn’t give the man a second look. Kicking the body off his swords, he sprinted in the direction of the cage. He gave into his anger, unleashing it, using it to make him faster, stronger. He would need it now. His senses told him that every human within the warehouse was now awake and alert to the danger. Even now, he could hear others raising the alarm. Despite the confusion and uncertainty, they’d pick up weapons with every intention of using them, and shotguns and rifles, all loaded with the dreaded iron, were being cocked right now.
He had the upper hand, because while he knew where they were, the humans were completely unaware as to his whereabouts. Sam used the advantage, doing the unexpected. He darted over to the main wall again and followed it, knowing that at least this way he wouldn’t advertise his presence every time he went through one of the makeshift barriers. That had always been his plan, sadly interrupted.
If he followed the wall around, he would eventually get to the cage which was his ultimate goal. But he had one detour to make first. It wasn’t part of his mission but he felt strangely compelled. His nose told him when he was close and he left the relative safety of the wall and moved into what was the food preparation area. The two chefs were still in attendance around the huge pot, but instead of being armed with ladles and spoons, they now had weapons in their hands. One — a young, nervous looking man with greasy looking hair — had a rifle. The other, — huge, pot-bellied, with a scruffy beard — clutched a huge meat cleaver in one meaty fist. Both had blood- stained aprons wrapped around their waists.
Both sets of eyes bulged hugely when they caught sight of Sam moving swiftly in their direction. The big man only had time to let out a cry of warning before Sam was upon him. The man swung his meat cleaver but Sam ducked under it as easily as if it was wielded by a child, plunging his Wakizashi into the man’s chest. Without even looking, Sam thrust out with his Katana, slicing the blade straight through the neck of the other man, even as he brought his rifle up to fire.
He could hear the younger man gurgling on his blade, struggling to free himself. He managed to fire his rifle but it was not even pointed in Sam’s direction and passed harmlessly off to one side. The bigger man was face-to- face with him. Sam could see the disbelief and horror on his face and was glad. He had a special bone to pick with these two, having watched them for the last few nights.
What they had done was unspeakable. Evil. If Sam had given them the opportunity, they would’ve probably tried to justify it by saying that their hunger drove them to it. That only the strongest survived and it was their right as the dominant ones to determine the fate of those beneath them. Regardless of their argument, they were wrong. So very wrong. To prey upon other humans and not just prey upon them. To feed upon them. It was abhorrent. Just the thought of it made Sam want to be sick and he was so very happy to put an end to them.
He smiled into the fat man’s face even as the glow of life faded from his eyes, then shoved the disgusting copse off his blade. At the same time, he withdrew his shorter blade from the younger man’s neck with a quick jerk of his hand. The man toppled to the ground clutching his neck, choking on his own life blood as it spurted out between his fingers.
