Blood Empire

By John Madderson

Joseph Beck, a German infantryman, and his men are instructed to escort a number of wagons across Russia by the orders of their army commander, General Wolfgang Alucard, to a secret location deep within the interior. Unbeknown to these soldiers, the wagons hide a group of bloodthirsty vampires, and they soon learn that General Alucard has betrayed them. Joseph witnesses the slaughter of his comrades by these vampires, and becomes obsessed with preventing Alucards mad plan for vampires to populate the world and have complete control. Having been taken over by a mysterious vampire parasite that has transformed him into a human vampire, and driven by anger and remorse over the death of his comrades, Joseph swears he will have his revenge and sets out to find and destroy Alucard. During his long and arduous search, in which he faces great danger, he finds others like him, unaware that Alucard has developed a machine that can incubate the parasites and bring them to maturity much quicker. Joseph realises that there is immediate danger of Alucard fulfilling his mentor’s, Adolf Hitler, dreams of world domination, and if he fails to destroy the General and his vampires and loses the battle, humanity will once again tremble under the sound of the Jackboot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Madderson
• Release date: May 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476113753

John Madderson

Hi.My name is John Madderson and I love writing horror.I was born in the small industrial seaside town of Blyth Northumberland. In 1964 I joined the Army and enlisted into the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers where in 1966 I met my wife Sylvia while on leave from Germany en-route to Aden and active service. On returning to England Sylvia and I were married and in 1968 we were blessed with our son Lee Raymond. In 1977 I left the army and went into self-employment for a great number of years. I have had a full life but now nearing my retirement I have taken up writing and dedicate my time into bringing back the original saga of Dracula and the blood craved beast he was created to be (with a slight twist.)My books, under the sub-title “The Vampire Hunter,” are a series of four books each depicting a separate time in the past, present and future. The two main characters the villain Alucard, and the hero Joseph Beck, are locked in an eternal battle from which there can be but one survivor.EnjoyJohn Madderson.

Book preview

BLOOD EMPIRE

By

John Madderson

Copyright 2012 by John Madderson

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

INTRODUCTION

The building is dark, damp and reeks from years of decay and human derogation. Alucard, Lord of the Vampires, stands motionless on the hard, wet concrete floor; he looks across at a row of four stationary steel-clad vehicles. Silently, he rises into the air and glides the short distance separating him from the vehicles and the sinister-looking creatures sitting inside. He stops. They turn their heads in his direction. He raises his head and a low hissing sound escapes from his lipless mouth. There is a momentary pause, then the four creatures dismount from their cabs and move to the rear of the vehicles. They unlock and open the steel doors and then step to one side, waiting with their heads bowed low as eight vampires emerge. Their clothing is worn and tattered, but the black skull insignia on the collar of their tunics is still quite visible. Their skin is black and leathery, and their eye sockets are empty. They stop momentarily for instructions from the beast facing them; then without a sound, they lift themselves into the foul cordite-filled air up to the roof and out through the shell holes into the darkened sky.

CHAPTER ONE

THE BEGINNING

It was cold, freezing cold, and the snow-laden clouds hung like a huge grey blanket suspended from a black moonless sky. Soon the winds would pick up, the heavens would open and once again the snow would cover the stone-hard ground in a silvery white shroud.

Frenchie and I had been hunkered down in the forward-listening trench for some hours, and I had begun to doze off due to the freezing temperatures when Frenchie started talking.

What do you think Hitler’s doing right now, Joseph?

Eva Broun I should imagine, why? I replied without looking up.

There was a moment of silence, then I heard his feet squelching in the mud-filled trench as he turned and I sensed that he was looking down at me.

You know what, I can never get an intelligent answer from you these days; it was a normal question, why can’t you just answer in the normal way?

It was a stupid question, Frenchie. How the hell would I know what he’s doing? Eva seemed to be a fair answer!

I don’t know why I bother!

His feet squelched again in the same churned-up mud as he turned back to look out across No Man’s Land, and I felt I had to say something, anything.

You bother because you want to keep me awake, that’s why!

I was waiting for a reply when suddenly Frenchie screamed and dropped to the bottom of the trench next to me, his eyes wide and full of surprise, his head tilted upwards into the night.

Bloody hell! What was that? he shouted, looking up into the black sky.

I instinctively jumped to my feet and peered out over the parapet of the trench.

What was what? What did you see? You better not be jerking my chain, Frenchie! I whispered as I peered out into the darkness.

Not sure, Frenchie whispered, as he nervously got back to his feet.

What?

Not sure, he repeated; didn’t you see anything?

No, nothing, I replied, still peering out into No Man’s Land. Still can’t see anything, I whispered.

I half turned to face him, his face was a picture of fear and his eyes darted back and forth across No-Mans-Land.

I swear, Joseph, something just flew over my bloody head!

Your head? I snapped back at him.

Yes, my bloody head. Something big, bloody big! he snapped back.

Still can’t see anything; sure it wasn’t just a gust of wind?

There was a pause as if Frenchie was considering what I’d said.

Don’t think so; no, not wind, definitely not wind!

You spooked, Frenchie? I asked, nudging him with my shoulder.

Yes, no, I mean no! There was a sound, a fluttering sound, like a flag in the wind.

Yeah, go on.

Frenchie went silent and stared out into the night as if trying to find an explanation. I looked into his face; he was struggling with something, something he wasn’t sure of, and twice he opened his mouth to say something but immediately closed it again.

Well, you know when you see a black shape crossing a black background, he began,

well it was like that, a black shape crossing a black background!

Bollocks, you’re spooked!

No, no listen, Corporal, something’s wrong, I can feel it, sense it; there’s something out there.

Now you’re spooking me!

Frenchie was afraid, but nevertheless he continued to watch the Russian forward trenches through the periscope.

Well, I whispered, anything else before I settle down?

I dropped back into the bottom of the trench and watched the mud wash over his boots as he turned to look down at me. He was just about to say something when suddenly the still night air was shattered by the agonising screams of a terrified man. Instinctively, Frenchie dropped to his knees, sending a spray of waterlogged mud up into my face, and in an instant the silence suddenly exploded. More terrifying screams ripped across No Man’s Land from the direction of the Russian forward positions and the night sky lit up in a criss-cross pattern of sporadic tracer fire directed skywards at an invisible enemy. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

Finished? Frenchie asked his eyes bright with fear.

Give it a few more minutes, I replied.

Are you sure? I mean, well, what the hell’s going on?

Slowly we began to unravel ourselves from the bottom of the trench and peered over the edge. Frenchie had discarded the periscope in favour of using his eyes, a practice not usually favoured in the forward-listening posts because of enemy snipers, but I chose not to challenge him about it. It was true that the periscope was useless at night, but Frenchie was on a mission: he needed to confirm what he thought he had seen and also, I suspect, to prove me wrong! I studied the man standing in front of me, his eye inches above the parapet of the trench. He was a walking armoury, his Mouser rifle by his side. A Russian PPSH 41 machine gun hung around his neck on a leather strap, the weapon resting across his body just above his grey coat belt where a holster holding a German luger was fixed. Next to it was a Russian Macarov pistol and three ammunition pouches holding six magazines, while a bandolier of rifle ammunition hung across his chest and his two pockets were full of loose ammunition. All in all the man must have been carrying thirty pounds or more of armaments!

Suddenly, Frenchie screamed, Shit! Joseph, look there, there, over there!

Frenchie threw himself up into a standing position, pointing excitedly into the air, his upper body in full view of an enemy sniper.

Frenchie, get down, you idiot!

No, no look, Corporal, look there, there in the sky, I told you so, I told you so! Frenchie was jumping up and down like a schoolboy in the playground. There, I told you so, see there, up there!

I followed Frenchie’s raised arm, his outstretched finger jabbing hysterically into the air at some distant object. I caught a glimpse of movement high up, but it was too far away to make out. For an instant I lost it as the shape disappeared into the clouds; then I saw something coming our way. The sky was full of black and grey rolling banks of cloud, tumbling, swirling over each other. I squinted as the silhouette of a large bird passed between them, one, two, then three. The third appeared to have something hanging underneath it and then they were gone, lost in the turmoil of the snow-filled skies on the Eastern front. I had been looking vertically upwards into the sky when something wet hit my helmet, which dripped from the rim and ran down my face. I wiped the warm, sticky fluid from my face and was about to curse when I noticed Frenchie staring at me.

You’ve been hit! he shouted.

Frantically, I padded myself down, removing my helmet to examine it for holes. Discarding it, I ran my hand over my head.

No, no, I don’t think so!

You’re covered in blood, you must have been!

Suddenly, there was a sound as something landed in the frozen mud of the parapet, sending fragments of ice into our faces. We dropped to the bottom of the trench, expecting it to be a grenade, but after a few moments we realised that it hadn’t been and again we slowly stood up. At first the object lying at the side of the trench appeared to be a piece of timber, but then I recognised it for what it was: a human arm.

What the hell!

It’s an arm, a freaking arm!

Yeah, Frenchie, I can see that. Where the hell did it come from?

From up there, I guess, Frenchie replied, pointing upwards. I told you I’d heard something.

I looked skywards but was unable to see anything other than the dark angry clouds gathering to the east and rolling steadily towards us. Soon the heavens would open and with the snow would come the winds. Soon it would be time to leave the forward positions. Soon it would be time to rejoin the main defensive line. Soon the Russians would attack under the cover of the fury of the storm. I looked out over the churned-up ice-covered landscape, which only a short time ago the army had crossed on its way back to Germany. Then the land had been covered in a white blanket of snow and tall green pine trees, but in a very short time they had all but vanished and the land had been turned into a landscape of frozen mud, vehicles and the bodies of our comrades. The carnage covered some miles, reaching as far as the eye could see; some of the vehicles still burned, their flames not so high now but their hulks still smouldering in the dim morning light. Less then a quarter of a mile in front me was the front line of the enemy, and I felt sure they were doing the same as us, watching. They had chased us back to this place that was to be our tomb, and we were getting fewer, weaker, while they grew in number and became stronger. Flares crackled some distance off, lighting up the land, their silvery trails streaking forever skywards, searching for objects in the sky, silent deadly objects. Then they flickered and fell earthwards.

Time to go, I said.

Right behind you, Frenchie replied.

CHAPTER TWO

THE ESCAPE

It was 1943, and the loss of the 6th army at Leningrad under Field Marshal Paulus left the German army on the defensive. Then at Kharkof we found ourselves surrounded and were in full retreat out of the Caucasus. Nearing the end of that year, the glorious German army had been driven back to the River Dnieper, but now it was January 1944 and everyone except the madman in Berlin knew it was all over, but still he ordered us to hold our positions at the river.

By 15 February 1944, the battalion was held up in a small town called Smolensk only eighty or so kilometres from the Polish border. We had been taking a battering from the Russian artillery for weeks now, but had been ordered to hold back and then withdraw with the remaining elements of army group centre, in addition to linking up with other elements of army groups south and north, before returning to Berlin to protect the Fuehrer.

It was one in the afternoon when the company runner burst into the bombed-out shells of a house we were billeted in and handed me a note from the Company Commander. The note instructed me to report to General Alucard at his headquarters immediately.

You sure this is for me?

Your name’s on it, isn’t it?

Don’t get smart with me, Bremmer. You’re a runner; talk to me like that again and I’ll ram this bloody rifle butt up your arse!

I started across the floor towards him and he staggered back against the wall, his hands held high above his head

Sorry, Corp, I’m a bit shat….!

It’s Corporal to you, Bremmer. Now get the hell out of my billet!

I’m not going out there, Corporal, it’s bloody suicide. Can’t I wait here with you lads until it lifts?

Bremmer was scared, and