Chapter 588 End Of The World
The defensive line didn’t just fail, it got chewed apart like wet paper, and the sound of it was something nobody who survived would ever get out of their heads. Private Miller was the first to go in his section, not with some heroic last stand but with a wet crunch as a vampire landed right on his chest plate, the impact snapping ribs before the kid could even get his rifle up.
The thing’s claws were like rusted rebar, punching through Kevlar and flesh alike, and when it tore into his throat, the spray painted the sandbags and the guy next to him in hot, sticky red. Miller’s scream was barely a gurgle, cut off so fast it felt wrong, like the world itself had muted him.
Sergeant Hayes tried to hold the gap, screaming orders that nobody could really hear over the gunfire and the shrieking. He emptied his mag into a vampire’s face at point-blank range, the skull blowing out in a mess of gray and black goo, but two more were already on him, moving like spiders on crack.
One swiped his arm clean open, tendons popping like guitar strings, while the other grabbed his ankle and yanked him down into the mud. They didn’t feed like animals; they ripped and tore with this weird, frantic energy, like they were trying to erase him from existence rather than eat him. Hayes’ boots kicked uselessly against the dirt for a few seconds before he went still, his helmet rolling away into a puddle of blood.
To the left, a bunch of engineers tried to fall back toward the secondary blast doors, but the vampires flowed around them, cutting off every path. A young engineer, barely old enough to shave, dropped his shovel and held up his hands, begging, but the vampire that reached him didn’t care. It grabbed a fistful of hair, yanked his head back, and bit down hard enough to crush bone. The sound was dry and awful, followed by the rush of blood soaking into the dirt.
Another soldier fired wildly, hitting the thing in the shoulder, but it just laughed—a high, broken screech that made your teeth hurt—before spinning around and closing the distance faster than anyone could track.
The air turned thick and sour, copper and smoke and burnt hair clogging your throat. Artillery kept hammering the tree line, turning vampires into mist and chunks, but for every one that blew apart, three more crawled out of the shadows. They moved in these jerky, synchronized waves, eyes glowing faint red like dying embers.
Some carried broken pipes or shattered rifles, but most just used teeth and nails. They ripped open armored vehicles like tin cans, dragging drivers out and tearing them limb from limb before the bodies even hit the ground. Blood smeared across windshields, making the remaining trucks skid and crash into each other, creating bottlenecks the horde poured through without hesitation.
In the center, Rodriguez’s machine gun nest was the last thing holding. The barrel glowed white-hot, stitching lines of tracers across the tide, piling up corpses until the next wave just climbed over them like stairs. Then a bigger vampire, muscles bulging under pale skin, ignored the bullets chewing its chest and slammed into the emplacement.
It knocked Rodriguez backward, crushed the gun under its weight, and grabbed him by the legs. Swung him like a baseball bat into the concrete barrier. There was a sickening thud, then nothing left but a broken heap and a torn uniform. For a second, that little pocket of the battlefield went quiet except for the distant mortars and the screams.
Near the blast doors, medics worked frantically, hands stained red to the elbows. A nurse pressed gauze to a soldier’s gut wound, whispering "stay with me" over and over, her voice shaking. But the kid’s eyes were fixed on something behind her. A smaller vampire, almost child-sized but with ancient, empty eyes, slipped past the distracted medics and struck like a snake. Claws punched through her back, lifting her off the ground as she gasped once before going limp. It dropped her without looking, stepping over her body to reach the wounded soldier, who could only stare in horror as his savior was discarded like trash.
Bodies were everywhere now. Tangled in wire, slumped against burning vehicles, scattered across open ground. Limbs stuck out of artillery craters. Heads rolled near living soldiers’ boots. The ground was slick with blood, making people slip and fall, only to be dragged down by waiting hands. The smell was unbearable, iron and shit and burnt meat clinging to the back of your throat. But they kept fighting. Not because they thought they’d win, but because behind those steel doors were kids who’d never seen war, mothers who’d lost husbands, fathers who’d lost sons. Surrender meant extinction, so they fought until their mags clicked empty and their arms shook.
A lieutenant, face covered in soot and blood, rallied five survivors near an overturned APC. "Back to back!" he rasped. "Don’t let them surround you!" They formed a tight circle, rifles outward, chests heaving. Vampires circled them, testing, waiting. One darted in, fast as lightning, but the lieutenant caught it in the knee. It stumbled, screeching, and another soldier put a bullet through its eye. The circle held, barely. Ammo was low, fatigue was heavy, and the vampires could smell it. They waited, patient as death, knowing the humans would slip up eventually. And when they did, the feast would start again.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long bloody shadows across the valley. The military’s resistance was crumbling sector by sector, command structure fractured, units isolated. But still they fought. Still they died. And still the vampires came, an endless tide of madness driven by a purpose none of the living understood.
A young soldier ducked just as a pair of razor-sharp claws sliced through the air where his head had been a split second earlier. The wind from the attack brushed against his helmet, sending a chill down his spine, but his body reacted before fear ever could. His rifle came up instinctively.
Ratatatatatatata!
"Die, you bastard!"
The muzzle flashed relentlessly, the recoil hammering against his shoulder as round after round tore into the vampire’s face. Blood sprayed into the air before the creature’s body lost all strength, collapsing lifelessly into the mud.
The young soldier spat onto the battlefield.
"Five down."
His chest rose and fell violently, sweat mixing with soot and dirt across his face. His ears rang from the constant explosions surrounding him, yet he could still hear the screams of dying soldiers and the horrifying screeches of charging vampires.
He didn’t have time to celebrate.
His eyes darted across the battlefield, immediately spotting another squad barely twenty meters away. One of his closest friends had been cornered by two vampires, desperately trying to reload while stumbling backward.
"No!"
The young soldier sprinted without hesitation. His boots pounded against the torn earth before he planted one foot onto the steel side plate of an abandoned military vehicle. Using it as a springboard, he launched himself into the air.
Time almost seemed to slow.
His rifle swung toward one of the vampires.
Ratatatatata!
The bullets struck the creature square in the skull.
Its head snapped backward before the entire body crumpled onto the ground.
"Six!"
The surviving vampire hissed before another soldier tackled it from the side, buying the young man just enough breathing room to land.
His boots skidded through the mud as he steadied himself.
"Reload! Reload!"
Someone shouted nearby.
Another explosion shook the earth.
Missiles screamed overhead.
The smell of burning flesh mixed with smoke and gunpowder until the air itself became difficult to breathe.
But then...
Something changed.
The battlefield around him suddenly became quiet.
Not literally.
Only around him.
A strange instinct crawled down his spine.
He slowly turned his head.
One vampire.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
They surrounded him completely.
Each one wore that same horrifying grin, their crimson eyes glowing with hunger while sharp claws slowly flexed beneath the rising smoke. They didn’t rush him immediately. They simply circled, cutting off every possible escape route.
The young soldier slowly turned with them.
His rifle clicked.
Empty.
"..."
He laughed.
A tired...
Broken...
Almost relieved laugh.
"So this is it..."
He looked around once more.
No escape.
Every route had already been blocked.
Behind the six vampires lay hundreds more charging through the battlefield, while farther away soldiers continued fighting desperately to protect the bunker.
There wasn’t enough time.
Nobody was coming.
He reached toward his vest.
Instead of another magazine...
His fingers wrapped around two grenades.
He pulled them free.
The vampires paused.
A vicious smile slowly spread across the soldier’s dirty face.
"I’ll take every last one of you fuckers down to hell with me!"
The creatures instantly understood.
They hissed together before launching themselves forward all at once.
The young soldier didn’t hesitate.
His thumbs hooked through the safety rings.
Click.
Click.
The pins came free.
For just a brief moment...
The battlefield disappeared from his mind.
Instead, he remembered the faces of the brothers he had lost over these past months.
Corporal James.
Lewis.
Martin.
Captain Hayes.
Every one of them had died buying others another few seconds to live.
His grip tightened around the grenades.
He smiled softly.
"See you soon... brothers."