Surviving the Enemy

Reminisce

The news reporter had announced it an 'apocalypse', but it wasn't fire and brimstone like most had predicted, it wasn't global warming or terrorists, or even the fall of the banking system. Instead, it had been something much worse.

In the year 2028, in a poor town near Anadyr in Russia, an army of vampires had been gathering, their leader Arthor Voinov led the invasion. Moving across Russia and into eastern Europe, they murdered, kidnapped, and enslaved thousands. A ruthless group of hundreds, growing in numbers as they crossed into France and shortly no one stood in their way. Humans looted to survive, governments fell to their knees, the world economy came to a standstill, and countries became baron wastelands of abandoned buildings and destroyed wildlife; the entire world had fallen to vampires. Arthor Voinov became the ruler of Earth, he spared the lives of the humans left, but they became lower-class citizens; almost like pests. Vampires hunted humans, they legalized human trafficking, and they publicly executed humans if they broke any laws; such as running from their masters or stealing. London became a new city under strict vampire rule, humans tattooed if they belonged to a master and had to have special permits to be out after curfew hours, high ranked vampires lived in luxury apartments and no human had any right to medical aid what so ever, so death rates were at their highest. The only safe place left for humans was in the countryside, they gather in limited groups, surviving as best as they could, with what they scavenged from abandoned towns and villages. But it was nevertheless dangerous, rogue vampires hunted humans as food or just for sport. 'Reapers' hunted humans for the slave trade and humans killed other humans for their resources. But elsewhere in the outskirts of London in a secret location, Arthor was enjoying his hard work paying off, surrounded by his closest friends and an abundance of slaves doing everything for him, and the occasional sacrifice for him to enjoy drinking from and then torturing, before eventually killing them in cold blood.

At the time I didn't believe in much, not a god or my brother returning to me. I don't think that praying makes things come true. Adulthood had shown me that no good came from wishing and nothing ever good happened when you prayed, and the apocalypse had made certain of that.

I remembered being at home sick when it hit the News. Monsters in Russia killing people without mercy. My parents and I watched each day, hoping that it would end. Hoping and praying that our armies would defend us and fight off these monsters from the East.

My baby brother cried in my mothers' arms, he was only two months old, I would often notice my mother staring at him, tears falling silently down her face, and my father looking grayer and weary as each day passed.

A few years went by and the news broke that they had reached the English Channel, they called my father to the front line like most men had been and they deployed my mother as a medic. I stayed at home to look after my brother, waiting for a phone call each night from my parents to say they were okay.

One evening, I was watching the TV; my parents hadn't rung like normal. The news reporter was looking rather panicked on the TV, speaking in a hurried whisper, "They had invaded England."

The TV went dead, the radio stations vanished and the war sirens stopped. Britain had fallen, and my parents died along with thousands of others.

I had my bags already packed. I swiftly grabbed my brother and left our home. Never to return.

*********************************

Some time had passed since I'd found a suitable hiding spot. A wardrobe in an abandoned house. The wood was damp and smelled of potting soil and the clothes had long disintegrated, so didn't hide me well. It wasn't the best hiding spot but it would have to do until I knew they had gone for definite.