Children of Sol

Anglestan

Janus 17, 1923 A.V

New Lundun

Henry

Henry's eyes shot open, the burning in his lungs still ever present as his throat forced out hoarse coughs. His side screamed at him, hearing an audible crack as he tried to lift himself up. His arms felt like jelly, barely able to budge him a few inches from the ground. He took a deep breath, a mistake on his part. Sharp pain cried out as the air flooded his lungs, and his side stabbed into him making him scream. Yet, no sounds came from his mouth. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, forcing himself off of the floor. He could still feel the heat from the tiny flames at the back of his shirt.

His body was slow, barely responding to his commands as he felt both searing pain and numbness meld together into an unpleasant overwhelming sensation. He lurched forward, grabbing hold of rebar sticking out from a large piece of debris. As soon as he got himself into a seated position, he exhaled forcefully, opening his eyes to the carnage around him. There were bodies crushed by debris, some pinned down by their legs, screaming as they tried to lift the large chunks of the road off of them. One poor lad had his entire head crushed.

Henry heaved himself from his seated position, shaky legs barely holding him up. He could hear people screaming and begging him for help, but his mind seemed empty. He stared at them blankly, not understanding a word they said. The pain in his side kept jabbing at him, the stinging in his lungs increased with every breath he took. The world was still spinning around him slightly, unable to really focus. He was supposed to do something before this. He was going somewhere, wasn't he?

His consciousness came back in full force as his eyes widened. The orphanage. The children. Camilla and Jeremy. It felt like a wave of water washing over him, and suddenly the panic set in his bones. Almost instantly, his legs seemed to work again, and his senses returned to him.

"Help, please! Please! Get me out of this!" The voices became much clearer now.

He turned to see a man with his leg crushed by a large piece of what used to be the sidewalk. 

"P-please… I think it's broken…" the man begged, reaching his hand out to him.

Henry shook his head and rushed toward the man, stopping by his side. "I-I'll help you!" he said, checking the state of the poor man. "Ah shit, it must've been completely flattened," he said, placing his hand on the debris. 

"C-can you get me out of here, p-please?"

"I-I don't know if I can…" Henry frowned, assessing the situation. 

"P-please, sir! I-I have a son! M-my boy needs me, I need to get back to him, please!"

Henry's heart clenched in his chest at the man's words. He frowned at him and quickly stood up, shaking his head as he remembered his own children. He swallowed hard before nodding to himself, wiping the sweat from his temples. "O-okay, I'm going to try to lift it alright? On three, you ready?"

The man took in a sharp breath and nodded. "R-ready…"

Henry nodded back and placed his hands under the debris, squatting down for more leverage. The pain in his side screamed at him, but he bit the inside of his cheeks, working through it. 

"Three!" he yelled as he pushed the debris off the man's leg with all his strength.

The man screamed as the debris was lifted. Fragments of his bones and blood sticking to its underside. He cried out with tears streaming down his face, fists slamming into the ground.

"Bloody bastard! You fucking said on three!" he cried out.

"Sorry! If I counted, you might've changed your mind," Henry said, trying his best to comfort him.

"T-that's a fair point, just please… g-get me out of here."

Henry nodded, grabbing the man by his pits and wrapped his arm around him. He wrapped his arm around the man before looking at him with determination in his eyes. He was going to help him no matter what it took. Both of them had to make it, to see their children again. 

"Alright, you don't have much of a leg now so I'll try to carry you okay? Do you have a name? I'm Henry. Not the best of circumstances, but nice to meet you," he said.

The man gritted his teeth as Henry began to lift him up, sending a jolt of pain to what was left of his leg. He took in another sharp breath, seething in pain. He shook his head as he tried to lean on the lad. "Evan. I'm Evan, and nice to fucking meet you too."

"Alright, Evan, just keep talking to me. We're going to get you out of here, okay? There's… there's got to be a rescue unit on their way right? We're in good hands. We'll be fine, okay? Don't worry."

"T-thank you. I thought I was done for, really thank you so m–" The man's words were suddenly cut off, replaced with a gurgling noise as blood filled his throat and a disgusting squelch was heard. The sudden force from behind had knocked both of them forward, but the man had seemingly stayed in place, lifted a few inches from the ground even.

Henry hit the ground with a thud before he whipped around to see what happened. He gasped and suddenly found himself backing away. The man started to gurgle and choke on his own blood. A hand where it shouldn't be, protruded from the man's chest, lifting him up from the floor. It only took seconds before Evan died with choked sobs. The hand that impaled his chest violently swung sideways and tossed him aside, bloodying the pavement.

Henry stared in shock and horror. His limbs felt frozen, looking at the creature standing right where the man previously was. It smiled back at him. Fangs flashing in the darkness, the figure illuminated only by the few still working streetlamps. "Well what do we have here?" it said, stepping closer. It was slow, but deliberately so. Boots hitting the floor, but barely making any noise. Nimble. Light-footed. Menacing.

"Poor broken thing lost too much blood, he would've barely made a snack." It said, glancing at the corpse of what used to be Evans. It turned back to face him. "You, however…" The creature grinned, sliding its tongue slowly over its lips in anticipation. "I think you'd do nicely."

The creature stepped closer, walking directly under the streetlamp. Black uniform, red shoulder band with the symbol of a crescent moon, and a rotating domina on its back. Its– His face was pale, with pointed ears and piercing, deep, red eyes. A strigoi.

"P-please…" Henry stuttered, trying to back away from the monster in the shape of a man.

"Please don't kill me? Please let me go? Please I have children?" The strigoi mocked him, letting out a soft chuckle. He slowly shook his head. "I've heard it all before. It never works, you know? You will die, and I will have my fill. You can try to run. Maybe even fight if you feel brave, either way, you'll die."

The strigoi stood before him before reaching down and grabbing Henry by the neck. He began to gasp for breath, choking under the monster's grip. He tried to peel the strigoi's hands from his throat, but he couldn't pry them. Instead, he felt his body slowly being lifted into the air, his feet leaving the ground.

"I'd rather not have prey that squirms and kicks around, so I'll kill you first. Not to worry, it'll be painless. For me. Not for you."

Henry could feel his consciousness fading. The air in his lungs had run out, and desperate gasps filled his ears. His mouth opened as if he were trying to scream. 

His vision was getting blurry. Everything around him started to turn dark. His arms fell to his sides, letting them hang loose. He no longer had the strength to fight back and try to escape. He was going to die here. He knew it. 

His gasps became shorter. Softer. Until they stopped. He slowly closed his eyes. Everything around him felt like a wave of stillness. He knew it. He was going to die alone by the hands of a monster.

But fate would have to say otherwise.

A loud bang rang out, jolting him back to his senses. He felt the pressure around his throat disappear and felt a sudden pain in his side as he crashed to the ground with a thud. He gasped for air as his eyes shot back open, taking in as much as he could, not caring about the sting in his lungs. 

He turned to see the strigoi clutching his chest, hissing at a man just a few meters away.

The man held a rotating domina that still puffed smoke and had a shovel on his back.

The strigoi bared his fangs and lunged at the man, but the pull of a trigger was faster than any distance he could cover. As the strigoi flew through the air, the realization hit him, before the shot did.

Bang.

The bullet fired straight into the strigoi's head, lodging itself inside before fracturing into a dozen pieces— the force of which knocked the strigoi backward, falling to the floor. Henry could only watch as the scene unfolded before him, taking it all in. 

The man holding the domina walked toward the body and fired two more shots for good measure.

It was all happening too fast. The young man shook his head trying to regain all his senses again. He tried not to stare at his rescuer, unsure if he could trust this person. He didn't recognize him at first, but the old scruffy voice brought him back from his cloudiness.

"You owe for that one, bruv. I expect a full meal when we get outta here, ye?" Vance smiled at him.

Henry paused and looked up to see the man offering him a hand. "V-Vance? You're alive?"

"Course I am!" his old friend laughed. "Ye think I'd lay down and beg for my life? Of course I'd show those bloody bastards who run this town! Now on your feet lad. We have children to go rescue, ye?"

Henry's widened. Of course, how could he forget? His mind raced at the mention of the children. The urgency rushed back to him as he scrambled back up to his feet. "The kids!" he said. "C-Camilla! Jeremy! I need to get back to them now! They could be h-hurt! They could be—!"

"Oi, keep your cool. We're going to find them, and save them, okay?"

"But the strigoi, they're—"

Vance suddenly grabbed his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Calm down, brother, we'll find them. Have faith, ye?" he said. "They'll be alright. Now, what ye need to do is to get a grip, because we can't help 'em if we ain't right in head. We have to be calm, and we have to think about how we'll go about this. Right now, you're their only hope, so ye need to be the one to comfort them, not the first to break down. Ye understand that?"

"Okay," Henry let out a shaky breath.

 "Okay?"

"Yes. Okay. I-I'm calm."

"Atta boy. Now, we have to get goin'. The night is young and we need to get to them as soon as we can."

"Where'd you get the domina?" The young man asked, eyeing the weapon in Vance's hand.

"This thing?" He lifted it up to his face. "Yanked it from a downed copper."

"You mean—"

"Ye. Bastard was long gone." Vance nodded at him.

Henry let out a deep sigh of relief. He turned and hugged the man, still gasping for breath. "Thanks Vance, I thought I was…" he swallowed hard and shook his head. "I thought that was it for me. I felt it. I was seconds away." 

Vance nodded and patted his hack, returning the hug. "Oi, don't be crying on me now, bruv. I wouldn't have wanted to lose a good friend either way. Now let's get those kids of yours, ye?" he said with a smile, pulling Henry away and patting his shoulders.

"Chin up lad. Let's go."

"Yeah… let's."

"Here," Vance said, handing him the shovel strapped on his back. "Just imagine shoveling coal. Only now it's fucking strigoi faces. Should be similar enough, ye?" 

Henry held back a small laugh. He shook his head.

"Yeah," he took the shovel and felt its weight on his hands, swinging it around. The end of the shovel was made of steel not silver, so he wouldn't be able to kill a strigoi with it. Well, not immediately that is. Still, it would definitely do damage, and slow them down. Enough for Vance to put a few shots in them at least. They would have to make do. "Yeah, this is enough."

"Good. Let's book." Vance nodded, and led the way forward, keeping his gun up and ready. Henry did the same, keeping a stance as the two walked through the ruins of the city. Ground troops were probably scattering through the city already. The bombs were to cause chaos, destroy whatever important targets they needed before they could properly invade. 

After that, the rest could walk in without any further problems.

His thoughts went back to the children. His anxiety nearly reached a fever pitch as he felt his blood rise to his temples. He hoped he wasn't too late. He hoped none of the bombs fell on the orphanage. He didn't know what he would do if he came back and found it as a burning pile of rubble and bodies. His heart clenched at the thought, shaking his head to try and clear it away from his head. 

No, They'll make it. An orphanage isn't an important target. They wouldn't waste a bomb on it. 

He let out a deep breath and clutched the shovel tighter, hard enough to make his knuckles turn white. It shook in his hands as fear and a growing flicker of anger gripped at his very soul. Seeing the bodies and destruction everywhere on the street. 

He glanced back at Vance, who was walking silently beside him. He wondered how such a man could take it all in with a straight face. Perhaps he had fought battles before. Or seen horrors he could only imagine. But now wasn't the time to wonder about a friend's past. All he knew was that he was grateful. 

Think of the children, Henry. You have to get there soon. Camilla and Jeremy need you. They all need you. He swallowed hard. He held onto hope like a life jacket in an open ocean. He hoped.

He hoped he'd make it in time.

But hope was a double-edged sword.