The Fall (The Strain Trilogy 2) - Page 103
“That’s why you need me with you.”
“Sadum. Amurah. Say it,” said Setrakian. “That’s what you can do for me. Let me hear that—let me know that you keep those words…”
“Sadum. Amurah,” said Fet obediently. “I know them.”
Setrakian nodded. “This world is going to become a terribly hard place of little hope. Protect those words—that book—like a flame. Read it. The key to it is in my notes. Their nature, their origin, their name—they were all one…”
“You know I can’t make heads or tails—”
“Then go to Ephraim, together you will. You must go to him now.” His voice broke. “You two need to stay together.”
“Two of us together doesn’t equal one of you. Give this to Gus. Let me take you, please…” Now there were tears in the eyes of the exterminator.
Setrakian’s gnarled hand gripped Fet’s forearm with fading strength. “It is your responsibility now, Vasiliy. I trust you implicitly… Be bold.”
The silver plating was cold to touch. He accepted the book finally, because the old man insisted, like a dying man pressing his diary into the hands of a reluctant heir. “What are you going to do?” asked Fet, knowing now that this was the last time he would see Setrakian. “What can you do?”
Setrakian released Fet’s arm. “One thing only, my son.”
It was that word—“son”—that touched Fet the deepest. He choked back his pain as he watched the old man move along.
The mile Eph ran into the North River Tunnel felt like ten. Guided only by Fet’s night-vision monocular, over a glowing green landscape of unchanging train tracks, Eph’s descent beneath the Hudson River was a true journey into madness. Dizzied and frantic, and gasping for breath, he began to see glowing white stains along the rail ties.
He slowed long enough to pull a Luma lamp from the pack on his back. The ultraviolet light picked up an explosion of color, the biological matter expelled by vampires. The staining was recent, the ammonia odor eye-watering. This much waste indicated a massive feeding.
Eph ran until he saw the rear car of the derailed train. No noise; all was still. Eph started around the right, seeing ahead where the engine or the first passenger car had jumped the track, angled up against the tunnel wall. He entered an open door, boarding the dark train. Through his green vision, he viewed the carnage. Bodies slumped over chairs, over other bodies, on the floor. All budding vampires, due to begin rising as soon as the next sunset. No time to release them all now. Or to go through them, face-by-face.
No. He knew Nora was smarter than that.
He jumped back out, turning the corner around the train, and saw the lurkers. Four of them, two to a side, their eyes reflecting like glass in his monocular. His Luma lamp froze them, hungry faces leering as they backed away, allowing him passage.
Eph knew better. He went between the two pairs, counting to three before reaching back and drawing his sword from his pack, and wheeling around.
He caught them coming, slashing the first two aggressors, then going after the backpedalers and cutting them down without hesitation.
Before their bodies settled on the tracks, Eph returned to the wet trail of vampire waste. It led to a passage through the left wall, into the facing, Manhattan-bound track. Eph followed the swirling colors, ignoring his disgust, rushing through the dark tunnel. He passed two hacked corpses—the bright register of their spilled blood under the black light showing them to be strigoi —then heard a ruckus ahead.
He came upon some nine or ten creatures bunched up at a door. They fanned out upon sensing him, Eph sweeping his Luma lamp in order to prevent any from slipping behind him.
The door. Zack was inside, Eph told himself.
He went homicidal, attacking before the vampires could coordinate an assault. Slashing and burning. His animal brutality surpassed theirs. His paternal need overmatched their blood hunger. This was a fight for his son’s life, and for a father pushed to the brink, killing came quick. Killing was easy.
He went to the door, clanging his white-slickened sword blade against it. “Zack! It’s me! Open up!”
The hand holding the door fast from the inside released the knob, Eph ripping open the door. There stood Nora, her wide eyes as bright as the flare burning in her hand. She stared at him a long moment, as though making sure it was him—a human him—then rushed into his arms. Behind her, sitting on a box in her housecoat with her gaze cast sadly into the corner, was Nora’s mother.
Eph closed his arms around Nora as best he could without letting the wet blade touch her. Then, realizing the rest of the storage closet was empty, he pushed back.
“Where’s Zack?” he said.
Gus blew through the open perimeter gate, the dark silhouettes of the cooling towers looming in the distance. Motion-sensitive surveillance cameras sat on high white poles like heads upon pikes, failing to track their Hummer as it passed. The road in was long and winding, and they were unmet.
Setrakian rode in the passenger seat with his hand over his heart. High fences topped with barbwire; towers spewing smoke-like steam. A camp flashback rippled through him like nausea.
“Federates,” said Angel, from the backseat.
National Guard trucks were set up at the entrance to the interior security zone. Gus slowed, awaiting some signal or order that he would then have to figure out a way to disobey.
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