along with the steady stream of smoke emanating from the chimney were the only signs of inhabitants. The evening air was clear, and a low moon illuminated the streets. My brother studied the area for a few minutes as we lay on the roots of a cluster of pines before passing them off to Peter. He scoured the town for a minute before he said, “I don’t see nothing.” Everything was as still and as quiet as a painting. We started down the other side of the hill and were descending when a loud pop from across the town brought us up short, ducking behind tree trunks for cover before an eruption of dirt and block tore into the air. The explosion left one half of the building two blocks south and one block east of the building the General’s men were in a pile of crumpled block with a cloud of white smoke and dust pouring off into the sky. A trio of vamps ran out of the outpost, one holding a rifle. When they saw the smoke and rubble two of them disappeared back into their post while the third stood in the shadow of the building with his rifle raised as he looked back and forth for the source of the attack. Another mortar dropped close to him and he disappeared in a haze of smoke. My brother waved us forward and we ran crouched with our guns ready. Suddenly a burst of machine gun fire scattered across the hill and I flung myself to the ground and shot back in the direction of the fire’s origin. Two more mortars fell back to back. I could see their arches tracing through the sky but not where they landed. Smoke and dust blotted out any sight of the riverfront and no breeze blew that would disperse it. A yell from my compatriots sent me running forward again. Gunfire erupted from the town, but none landed near us. I could make out shouts between the bursts of fire, but I couldn’t recognize the voices. Another mortar fell and my brother cursed loudly threatening to bury whoever fired for a month. A long scream split the night and then slowly diminished. We paused at the bridge straining to see anything through the heavy acrid clouds waiting until no mortars had fallen for a couple of minutes before crossing the bridge. We continued onto the riverfront street flitting along flood-stained fronts of buildings on cracked and shifted sidewalks. Footsteps approached us and then stopped before any image appeared out of the smoke and dust. I sniffed instinctively and then struggled to keep from choking and coughing as Peter glared at me. All I could see was particles swirling gently through the air. Suddenly I saw a slight movement in the air like the swaying of a curtain down the street and before I could react three machine guns fired into the swirl. When they’d stopped a low gurgling emanated from the spot and we walked stealthily up to it. A figure lay on the ground writhing slowly as it tried to crawl. A dark strain trailed the vamp on the pavement. “Shit,” my brother said and crouched down beside one of the vamps in one of the other groups. The vampire’s entrails were dragging behind him and he only groaned as we stepped up beside him. My brother put his gun to his head and pulled the trigger. In response a hail of bullets chipped into the pavement and the walls of the buildings around us as I dropped to the ground with a thud that jarred me. This time I fired along with everyone else, but we didn’t know who had fired at us or which direction the bullets had come from. I crawled over to the side of a building and lay with its wall to one side of me and looked down the street both ways. The group followed me as my brother repeated a two-toned whistle repeatedly. There was no response. We got up and moved slowly along the facades of the buildings towards the outpost seeing and hearing nothing. The area around the building was completely destroyed. The surrounding buildings were either completely or partially collapsed and the outpost itself had been reduced to nothing more than a smoldering heap. A burnt and blackened body lay on the pavement near the wall of a nearby building where it had been flung. It was bent backwards against its spine and its face was permanently etched with a strained gasping expression. It didn’t appear to be one of ours. Gunshots echoed up the street from the south and then a shout. “That’s Tony,” the old-bodied vamp exclaimed, and we ran south. The fire went on in short bursts and we pulled up as we neared it. Then we saw the barrel of a gun sticking out from a rooftop and it erupted with orange flame and bullets tore into the corner of a brick storefront across the street. Tony shouted again, something about moving up, as they returned fire sending chips and powder cascading off the building near the roof. My brother whistled again, and several replies came back from the grid of streets around us. “Break out our mortar,” my brother said and even though they looked at him curiously they pulled one out of Peter’s pack and set it up in only a couple of minutes. I watched the streets but didn’t see anything. My heart was beating as fast as it ever had since I’d been turned, and I felt like I was on the cusp of sweating despite the frigid air. My brother whistled and bullets fired at us. Chips of brick stung my face and I backed up. “Watch our backs,” my brother said to me as they pulled the mortar back somewhat. Again, the replies came, and my brother pointed at the direction of the rooftop as two machine guns fired from
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