After The Fall: Children Of The Nephilim Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Paul Freeman

  After The Fall: Children Of The Nephilim

  Paul Freeman

  Copyright © 2016 Paul Freeman

  Published by Lir Press

  First Edition, 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my family

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks Ivan Amberlake and Sharon Van Orman.

  Cover design: EJR Digital Art

  Also by Paul Freeman

  Tribesman

  Warrior

  Taxi

  Season Of The Dead

  www.paulfreemanbooks.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  Wraith-like mist hung from the black trees and drifted over the cold earth of the forest. The tips of his leather boots were darkened by the dew that clung to the long grasses as he strode into the clearing. He could see his own breath misting before him as the sky shifted from inky black to crimson with the approaching dawn.

  He forced himself to stay calm in the ghostly silence of the breaking morning and resisted the urge to pull his long coat tighter around him to stave off the chill that threatened to turn his bones to ice. The cold was not from the air but from the fear in his heart. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and much like the heavy coat was covered in the grime of the road, threadbare and worn. Iron-gray hair crept from beneath his hat and coarse white bristles adorned his chin on a worn, lined face. Strapped to his waist was a cavalry saber, a relic even back in Old-World times. It, however, did not show the results of aging. There was not a mark of rust or wear on the old weapon. It gleamed in deadly sharpness. The balance and quality of the blade made it the ideal tool for the grim, dark work he was about. On his belt were loops to hold spare shells for a sawed-off shotgun he carried in a leather holster on his back. Most of the loops were empty. He was a man hardened by the times he lived in. He was a desperate man, he was a lonely man, and above all he was a tired man. His name like Old-World times was a distant memory tucked away in a small corner of his mind. Folk simply called him Pastor.

  Just before dawn as the first glow of the sun appeared on the horizon was the most dangerous time for him. It was when his quarry was at its most vulnerable as they prepared to go to ground for the day, to shelter from the fatal rays of the sun. It was also when they were most desperate.

  He had been tracking this clan for days. It was the first time he had gotten so close, he needed to follow them to their nest before morning broke or he would never find them. They were masters at disappearing as darkness drained from the sky. They were creatures of the night, nocturnal predators, preying on the vulnerable and weak. They craved the warm blood of humans, sucking the life force from them, leaving behind a drained carcass which would rise again and join the legions of undead who dominated the world.

  He hawked and spat as stomach acid burned inside his chest. It was time. The first one appeared, a shadowy figure emerging from the trees. He could make out its hideous face as it moved into the clearing, appearing to float on the mist. It hissed and snarled at him, a grotesque smile of fangs. Slowly he unslung the shotgun from his back. His heart beat a steady rhythm as his hands only shook a little. He brought the weapon up all the while his eyes darted about the clearing, squinting in the shadowy twilight. There was never just one.

  He did not move as the large male approached him. He was surprised, it was unusual for the alpha male to come out first. Normally they preferred to direct the attack from behind. With a sudden burst of speed it flew at him, fangs bared. He was expecting it; he had fought and killed countless numbers of the creatures. He knew they were capable of awesome speed and strength. They were tough to kill, though not impossible. He brought the weapon up and fired both barrels, aiming for the heart. The beast howled as shot struck it in the chest, sending it thrashing to the ground. They could feel pain; it gave him grim satisfaction but only a moment’s relief. He flung the shotgun to the ground—there’d be no time to reload—and drew the sword. The monster snarled and scrambled up before flinging itself at him again.

  He whipped the saber up, the vampire’s own momentum driving the blade deep into its black heart. Flicking his wrist, he dragged out the weapon and in a sweeping arc hacked into the creature’s neck. With a thud, the head dropped onto the ground and the body toppled over. A second appeared immediately, a female. It tried to distract him by baring her breasts. Pasty white, dead flesh did nothing for him in an erotic sense. The sword came up and another vampire fell. He reversed back into the center of the clearing. He could feel his chest tighten and his breathing felt ragged. Not as young as he used to be, he thought grimly.

  He hated them; they filled his heart with a cold dread every time he thought about them. They disgusted him, the smell of rotting flesh that clung to them, the sound of their rasping snarls and guttural grunts, the lifeless eyes full of hunger. They were the rulers of the world now, the apex predator – top of the food chain. Three more stepped into the clearing. Two more joined the three and then another. He took several, involuntary steps backwards. Had he misjudged the size of this clan? He soon had his answer as more and more of them followed. His blood ran cold; it was all he could do to stop his knees from buckling. He had never seen so many vampires in one spot. Usually a clan would consist of seven or eight, rarely more than ten, but there were dozens of them.

  He stood in a fighting crouch, gripping his sword with two hands, waiting for them to charge him. He would take as many as possible with him. Then he realized he was also wrong about the alpha male, as the biggest vampire he had ever seen stepped forward, well over six foot, six-five at least.

  With an ear-piercing wail it came at him; he braced himself for the attack. The speed of the vampire was incredible, almost catching him off guard. He rolled the sword, batting away the furious assault. He felt his blade impact with the large male and watched it roll away. It regained its feet with a snarl. None of the other creatures came at him.

  He felt a sharp pain on his forearm. He glanced down, inwardly groaning at three red stripes on his skin. A scratch from a
vampire’s claw could be as deadly as a bite. Already he could feel the wound tingle as the venom began its evil work, in an hour his whole arm would be numb, in two he would be completely paralyzed and at the mercy of all and any creature alive or dead. If they fed on him, at dusk his lifeless body would rise and join the legions of the undead.

  He had poultices and salves that would neutralize the poison, but he needed somewhere quiet to administer them, a safe place behind closed doors to rest.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as the sky lightened, within minutes the first rays of the sun would pierce the clearing. The vampire clan retreated into the darkness of the forest. He cursed because he could not follow them and root out their nest while they slept. He needed to find his own sanctuary.

  He could still envision the big vampire, tomorrow, he thought. Today was a bad day, but there was always tomorrow.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Amy dragged Will by the hand as she ran for the trees, the two giggling as they hurried away from the sprouting stalks of corn and the other members of the colony who were too busy working to notice them. It was not the first time the two teenagers had snuck away from a working group to be together. There was little opportunity for the two to spend time with each other when they were cooped up in Colony. Once they had crept over the wooden stockade for a secret rendezvous down by the creek, but her pa had found out about that and rarely let her out of his sight ever since. If her father ever found out what they’d done two days past he would whoop both their asses so hard and never let her out of the house again.

  Amy was a child of the apocalypse, least ways that’s what her pa called the fall of the Old-World. She was born after the vampires took over and never knew a world any different to the one she lived in. She’d heard stories right enough, about how kids her age went to proms and had schooling and such. Her pa taught her to read and do math from some tattered books he kept in a large wooden box under his bed. That was pretty much the extent of her schooling. She could sew and cook and she could till a field. That was all the education she needed. There was just her and her pa, she barely remembered her mother. She was turned by a feeder when Amy was very young. Her pa had to put down his own wife when he found her scratching at the backdoor just after sundown the day after she went missing. He never spoke about it and Amy didn’t ask.

  “Come on,” Will urged as they neared the old farmhouse, a building that had long since fallen to decay and was almost reclaimed by the forest.

  She knew why he was so keen to get to the broken down house. It was where they’d lain together two days previously. Thinking about what they did made her blush. It had hurt at first, but she wanted to do it again.

  When the old house came into view Will turned and smiled. She returned the smile and squeezed his hand. Nervous butterflies fluttered through her stomach. Vines twisted their way around the crumbling mortar. There was no glass left in the windows, or even wooden frames. But it was not inside the house that was their destination but to an area covered in green tufts of long grass by a creek behind the house. Sun shone though the trees bathing the spot in the warm, yellow glow of its rays.

  Amy lay down in the grass, listening to the chirping of birds in the trees and the ripple of the water as a fish leapt to the surface to catch an insect hovering inches above. Will lay beside her and immediately wrapped one arm around her. He leaned in and kissed her lips. She responded with a soft moan. She flinched when she felt his hand pushing up her skirt, but soon relaxed as she felt his hot breath on her neck.

  The second time hadn’t hurt at all and she lay on her back looking up at the blue sky when Will rolled off her. His hand reached for hers and they lay there, side by side, fingers entwined staring up at the clear sky. She felt content even though guilt lingered at the back of her mind, but that was easily dismissed. She loved Will and knew she always would. Her eyes drifted closed as a smile played at the corner of her mouth. The sun warmed her upturned face as the gentle sounds of the forest drifted over her, lulling her into sleeps warm embrace.

  As happened so often though, a shadow drifted across her dreams. A faceless monster dressed in one of her mother’s dresses crept towards where she slept, reaching for her. Hands with black rotting nails and white flesh hanging from a thin, boney body reached for her. A black hole where the mouth should be yawned open wider and wider as the face drew closer to her. In the distance she could here her pa calling to her, urging her to flee, but she was too scared to move. Shoot it, Pa, she pleaded silently in her dream. Don’t let it get me.

  “Will!” She woke with a start and shook her sleeping boyfriend.

  “Wha’…?” He woke and sat up groggily.

  “The sun… it’s going down.” Its bright rays had slipped from the sky to be replaced with the hazy light of twilight. “We shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” she said with panic creeping into her voice.

  “Shhh,” Will said, putting a finger to his lips while he assessed the situation. “It’s okay. We’ll go back to Colony now. It won’t take long.”

  “But, Will. The sun is almost down. It will be dark soon. Oh God, we shouldn’t have come here. This is our punishment for what we done.”

  “Don’t talk rubbish, girl.”

  “I’m scared,” she said, a shiver rippling through her body.

  Will took her hand then. “There hasn’t been a feeder seen around these parts in months. Pastor hunts them down so they’ll leave Colony alone. We’ll be safe, Amy. I come out here all the time at night.”

  “You do?” Amy looked up sharply. “With who?”

  “No one, just by myself,” Will answered a little too quickly for Amy’s liking.

  “My pa’s going to kill me if I get back to Colony after they’ve closed the gate for the night.” She glanced towards the ruined farmhouse, noting how sinister the open spaces where the door and windows once were.

  “Come on, we’d best make tracks then.” Will started to walk but then stopped abruptly. Amy turned to see why he’d halted. It took a few moments to register the hand on his shoulder. And then a head, with the same sickly white flesh covering it, appeared over his shoulder. Cruel, black eyes regarded her. The head and face were hairless. Its mouth opened revealing two rows of sharp pointed teeth. Teeth for tearing into flesh and sucking out the warm, life-giving blood.

  Amy screamed as the feeder bit down hard on Will’s shoulder. The boy cried out in pain and dropped to his knees with the vampire latched onto him sucking the fresh blood from the wound. She reached for the knife she always carried on her belt, but it was gone, lost amidst the fumbling of clothes and soft warm skin earlier.

  Will screeched in pain as the feeder’s weight forced him to the ground all the while with its jaws clamped onto his neck. Amy could see the stain growing across his shirt and the crimson streams of blood flowing down the vampire’s chin.

  It had happened so quickly she had no time to think let alone act. She could see Will struggling to push off the feeder but her terror at being so close to the undead creature had paralyzed her legs. Then she heard a noise behind her. She turned her neck to look at the farmhouse. The dark shadow of the door shifted. She turned and ran then, tears streaming down her cheeks, the sound of Will’s screams echoing around her as she fled.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Logan heard the shrill of a whistle coming from up on the wall. The sun was sinking beyond the distant black hills as light seeped from a gray overcast sky. Two men were getting ready to close the wooden gates for the night. The community they’d built over the years was protected by a wooden palisade and thick gates which they shut at sundown each night. The whistle coming from the watcher on the wall meant something was amiss.

  “Logan!” His thoughts were interrupted by the panicked call of Jeb Johnston who was running towards him calling his name. Logan glanced anxiously at the man on the raised platform up on the wall before turning to face Jeb.

  “Not now, Jeb, we might have a situation on the wall.”


  “You’re damn right we’ve got a situation. My Amy hasn’t come back yet.”

  “Amy?” Logan said, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

  “She was in the work detail in the lower west field, down by the wood. George Carson and Maggie Crowley were in that detail and they’ve been back hours.”

  “She’s probably hanging around with some other kids. She’ll likely as not show up when she’s hungry,” Logan dismissed Jeb’s concerns, anxious to find out why the whistle had been blown.

  “She’s with that Davis boy,” he answered. “He’s nothin’ but trouble.”

  “Just a sec, Jeb.” Logan turned back to the wall. “Hey, Harry, what’s the whistle for?”

  “We got people commin’ in from the north,” Harry yelled back.

  “That’s probably them now,” he said and both men headed towards the gate. “Hold! Don’t close the gate yet,” he shouted towards the men pushing it shut.

  A man and woman approached the gate along the dusty track. The woman carried a bundle in her arms. As they got closer the wailing drifting towards them told them her burden was a baby.

  “Ho there,” Logan greeted the strangers. “Where you folks comin’ from?” Harry trained his rifle on the newcomers from the wall, while the two gatekeepers waited anxiously for the order to bar the gate and shut out the horrors that haunted the night. He could see from their expressions and the way they labored as they walked that they’d had a long hard journey.

  “Thank God,” the man said. “We didn’t think we’d ever find safety.”

  Logan looked into the faces of both the man and the woman. “You’ve had some trouble then?”

  “Oh yeah,” the man answered. “We’ve been walkin’ for days. Not knowin’ where we was headed or what we’d find there.”