Two Jimmies provided suppressing fire while rest of the group snuck their way toward the secret cement factory entrance.
Distant howls and loud hisses drove them hard to it. Ungodly screeching made their hair stand on end. Old man Colby worked at the factory twenty years ago before it closed down so he knew about a safe place. Maybe.
It would've been better if they'd come in quietly and hid, but they had no choice now but to fight through it. Their rigged 1500 gave up the ghost on the way to their regular shelter and the sunset snuck up on them.
As they moved out to safety, they stumbled into a sleeper hiding in deep shade. After the first person died in a geyser of his own blood, the bloodsucker wailed, waking up more of them. They barely made it here before the vampires came out in droves to hunt them down to the last. Those fuckers were drawn to scents, and with no power or running water there were plenty of scents to be had these days.
"Fuckin' barrel is gonna melt," one of the Jimmies yelled a warning, feeling it on the foregrip.
He and another guy named Jimmy were firing home-loaded white phosphorous rounds. Those ran hot and turned carbines into one-time use weapons. Pissing on the barrels did absolutely nothing for it, despite the sage advice of all the armchair experts. And besides, he was too busy shitting himself right now to try anyway.
By freak chance someone awhile back discovered the spectrum of light those rounds gave off killed vampires same as sunlight did, and that slowly helped turn the tide for humanity's survival.
The downside was those homemade willie petes ran hot, and threw off so much smoke you couldn't see shit after the first burst. To add injury to insult, they were also highly toxic and irritated the eyes and nose, like knockoff smoke grenades. And to kill a vampire, you needed more than one clip, so using 'em was all kinds of fucked, but it was all they had. In their confusing retreat, they lost two more men.
"Got it," yelled old man Colby after managing to find the crusty maintenance latch buried under some rotted plywood. Sense of relief replaced the panic. Nine remaining guys quickly ran in followed by the Jimmies. They barred the metal door behind them and finally relaxed, everyone breathing hard. Someone cranked a batteryless flashlight.
The crusher room was cavernous, littered with debris and disused equipment. But it would do. Several giant rock crusher screws provided ventilation from the outside hopper, and the 180 long tons of rocks loaded in them provided safety from the bloodsuckers.
They could safely light a fire for warmth and maybe eat that rabbit one of the Jimmies snared two days ago. Or was it three? No one could tell for sure. One of the Jimmies used his glowing hot barrel to start a leaf fire while he could.
Over the next hours they heard terrifying scratching on the other side of that metal door, but it was built solid. Knowing that still didn't put them at ease because the noise was so menacing. Clearing their way out at daylight would be a bitch, if anyone managed any sleep. For right now, they huddled around the fire and licked their wounds. Old man Colby's knife came out and started slicing up meat and scraping worms off into the fire.
He passed around a can of salt and soon everyone held thin strips of salted rabbit to the flame with whatever sharp thing they could find and waited. It wasn't enough meat for anyone, let alone everyone, but a little taste would bring up spirits.
"What's the point?" asked the youngest guy in the group. They called him the Kid.
This outbreak happened right before he could truly enjoy life and all he'd seen for years was pain, misery and discipline. He was perpetually demoralized and constantly needed reminders of things to live for.
"Hey Kid, we'll get through this," promised Darryl.
He was the ad-hoc group leader here, the most confident one. He wasn't best at everything and didn't have the best plans, but he managed to somehow motivate everyone. They called him the therapist behind his back sometime. He paused for a few moments and the scratching noises took over.
"To the fucking nines, you'll see what life is worth living for someday soon," he swore and trailed off staring into the flames, "to the fucking nines, Kid," he muttered.
The Kid kept moping around, "What the hell should I be looking forward to anyway?"
Darryl thought about it for a second and the answer came to him as usual. Out of nowhere. "Look forward to the freaky women, man, the freaky women."
"What freaky women?" the Kid asked, perhaps having bitten on the bait. Darryl's eye probed and found that his hook had indeed landed.
He grinned, "shit Kid, the freakiest of the bunch man. You know, nurses and schoolteachers."
Everyone laughed. The Kid thought he was being made fun of, but Darryl set everyone straight, "I'm serious people, think about it." He paused for effect and gestured each word with his rabbit slice, "what subgroup of polite society has the freakiest people on Earth? Nurses and schoolteachers."
The Kid asked, "I don't get it, how are those the freakiest? What are you on about?"
Darryl swept his audience. He had their attention now. He tried a piece of the rabbit, wrinkled his nose, and put it back to the fire. He put on his professor voice on and explained.
"Look man, those two occupations are front-heavy, you follow me? They start so early. By the time they finish all their long education and then training, they realize they've skipped like dating and fucking around and fun and shit. Then they find themselves in a very isolating work environment where they can't really socialize with peers. Where they have no peers. Just students or patients, and old bats. You follow me? They starve for contact. The yearning builds up. Then one day they just go off the fucking rails, go apeshit trying to catch up. Teachers way more than nurses."
