Dan Reiss knelt beside Bill Anderson as they poured round after round into the hall below. Bazooka fire and grenades had torn further holes in the structure, and thralls seemed to pour into the house from every direction. Their sheer number was overwhelming. No matter how many the men killed, more appeared in their place. The stairs were littered with the bodies of the dead and wounded. The carnage delayed the thralls" advance as they climbed over the bodies.

Dan saw men crouched in doorways along the hall. They kept the thralls pinned down while they dodged out, fired and dodged back into the rooms before the thralls could respond. Most of the fire was blind; bullets flew everywhere. People on both sides died or grunted in pain when ricochets embedded themselves in flesh and furniture at impossible angles.

Grenades flew from side to side. With the thralls so closely packed, every grenade explosion among them took a terrible toll. Blood flowed down the wooded steps and body after body fell while the humans defended the stairwell. Despite the carnage; despite the death, the thralls kept coming. Reiss could understand their single mindedness. Like the humans, they too feared their masters and would surely pay dearly for failure.

Slowly, inexorably, they forced the humans back.

Bill Anderson screamed as a line of bullets stitched across his chest. The force of the impact threw him backward where he lay fighting for breath. Reiss glanced quickly at his colleague and saw the damage to his chest. He knew immediately he could do nothing to save him but Anderson was still alive and his eyes suddenly met Reiss" and he began to inch forward toward him. The sheer volume of fire forced Reiss to retreat further down the hall, while bullets flew around him and drove splinters of wood and masonry into his flesh. And all the time Anderson stared at him, imploring him to help. There was nothing Reiss could do for Anderson and it would be madness to try and reach him, but still, those eyes seemed to stare at him in judgement and Reiss despaired.

He heard a scream behind him and glanced back in time to see Scott Anderson suddenly launch himself to his feet and run down the landing toward the thralls. He screamed at the top of his lungs for his fallen brother, his rage evident in his face while he ran. The gun bucked wildly in his hands as he ploughed into the first line of thralls.

The blood-spattered vision coming toward them took the thralls completely by surprise. They panicked and tried to retreat back the way they had come. Unfortunately for them, too many others were pushing from behind. Anderson caught them from his end and strafed his weapon from side to side while he screamed his grief. The front line of thralls dropped, but the second line pushed past and returned fire. Reiss was torn. Running after Anderson was suicide, but he couldn't just stay here and do nothing.

Under cover of the confusion from Anderson's mad sprint he started forward again. He regained his position beside the still form of Bill Anderson to provide covering fire. The stairway was a scene of utter confusion. The thralls had recovered from the initial shock and had already regrouped to advance again. On the top stair Scott screamed his rage and he pumped round after round into the advancing horde.

Tears welled up in Reiss" eyes when he saw Scott spin backward. A bullet ripping through his shoulder, and the force of the impact forced Scott to drop his weapon. For a second there was total silence, and then Scott turned again to the thralls. Unarmed, he stood defiantly at the top of the stairs when the thralls opened fire at point blank range. The sheer volume of fire tore him apart. He was already dead long before he slumped to the ground. The thralls gathered around the body and spat on it when they passed. Reiss could do nothing but use this distraction to retreat again down the corridor. He noted as he past that although Bill Anderson's eyes still stared at him he too had died.

It had become impossible to see inside the upper floors of the house. The smoke from the explosions and small fires added to the gloom of the descending darkness. Harris fired at any flashes of light in the hall or shifting of shadows. He couldn't see any of his colleagues and dared not shout out to them in case he gave his own position away.

Suddenly a dark shadow ran toward him and he brought up his gun to fire only to ease off the trigger at the last minute. "Nearly blew your fool head off," he chastised Rodgers when he came level. "It's just as well I recognised that stupid grin of yours."

"You'd probably have missed anyway the way you shoot." Rodgers tried to grin, but the enthusiasm just wasn't there. Too many friends lay dead on this landing and he could hear others scream for help where they lay in the gloom. "How many are left?" he asked.

"No idea," grunted Harris. "There's sporadic fire over there," he indicated the far end of the landing, "but other than that I don't hear anyone." Harris rolled out into the hall and sent a burst of fire down the landing to keep the advancing thralls in check.

"Nearly dark," Rodgers commented, "they'll be here soon."

"Yea, let's hope we've bought them enough time."

"Do you really think we can win?" Rodgers asked.

"Probably not, but we'll take a few of these fuckers with us."

Dan Harrington stood at the Cave door and listened to the muffled sounds of battle through the large metal entrance. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal and cringed with every shot.

"We can't just sit here and wait, Dad." Sandra Harrington looked into her father's eyes.

"Crockett was adamant we keep this door closed no matter what we heard. If the thralls get in here it's all over." He looked around for support. "Father Reilly, you tell her." his eyes pleaded with the priest.

Reilly listened to the staccato bursts of gunfire and the occasional deep thump of explosions and sighed deeply, "Sandra," he began, "your father ..."

"No!" Sandra Harrington interrupted. "I don't accept that. How can letting them die possibly be the right thing to do?" The tears began to roll down her cheeks, but her face was set in a determined manner. "We're in this together. Hiding here like frightened rabbits, even if we do survive, is no victory at all. I want no part of it."

The house was quiet. There hadn't been a shot for a full five minutes and both sides used the time to take stock. Muffled whispers were barely audible through the gloom. An occasional cough or splutter was the only audible sounds. Harris and Rodgers inched their way along the last few feet of the landing and looked for a way back down to the ground floor. They had run out of room on the landing and the next push from the thralls would overrun their position.

Dan Reiss nearly tripped over Vince Crockett when he retreated to the other wall of the far landing.

"Did you see anyone else?" Crockett asked.

"Afraid not."

Just then there was a sound of pounding feet on the landing as the thralls began the final push.

"Give me your gun," Crockett reached out for the weapon. "I'll cover you while you try and get downstairs."

"No way," Reiss protested, "we'll go together or--" Reiss looked down at Crockett and noticed his injuries for the first time. His shirt was soaked in blood and his left hand was clutched tightly against his stomach, holding his insides in place.

"Oh my God," Reiss exclaimed, "let me try--"

"No point, I can't move. Now get out of here before they reach us."

Reiss delayed another few seconds and wrestled with his conscience. The sudden eruption of gunfire from the stairs startled him into action, and he ran to the end of the landing while Crockett opened up and sprayed fire down the landing. Reiss heard Crockett scream abuse at the approaching thralls. After too short a time the screaming and the gunfire stopped.

Harris hung from the top floor landing while bullets tore into the wooden balustrades. Rodgers stood over him and pumped round after round into the advancing thralls. A bullet embedded itself in the wood under Harris" fingers and splinters ripped into his flesh. He screamed in pain, lost his grip and fell to the floor below.

His fall was cushioned by dead bodies. Blood splattered over him while he waded through the carnage. Above him Rodgers spun around from the force of a bullet and fell toward him, headfirst, his body limp. Harris rushed to break the man's fall. He launched himself at the falling figure and managed to get his arms around Rodgers and straighten his prone form so that he fell on his back and not his neck.

The thralls completed their sweep above and started firing over the balcony. Harris grabbed the unconscious Rodgers and pulled him to an alcove where he quickly examined him. A bullet had grazed his head. Blood oozed from the wound and another had taken a chunk of flesh from the soft flesh of his upper arm on its way clean through. Harris tore his shirt and pressed the rag against the wound in an effort to stem the flow of blood.

Thralls now occupied the entire house and still they continued to pour in. Harris brought his weapon up with his free hand and heard the dull click when the hammer fell on an empty chamber.

Overhead he could hear the thunderous sound of wings.

The door, hidden in a recess under the stairs, opened and immediately shot a beacon of light through the dark. The sudden appearance of the light took many thralls by surprise, and the invading force had a small but important advantage when they pushed into the crowded hall. Harris saw the figure of Sandra Harrington burst through the light and open fire on the startled thralls. Harris grabbed Rodgers and made his way through the confusion to the open door.

Dan Reiss also saw the door open and felt renewed hope. He had landed heavily on the floor when he had tried to avoid the thralls, and now pain shot through his ankle when he put any weight on it. He steeled himself against the pain and limped toward the rescue party. His ankle gave way with a sickening crack and he fell again. He looked and saw the bone protruding at an awkward angle. He could go no further.

"Hang on," he heard. The closeness of the voice startled him and he instinctively brought his gun up.

"Don't be stupid," the voice continued, "if I wanted you dead you're not really in any position to stop me, now are you?"

Reiss didn't have a choice, so he allowed the stranger to approach. Before the figure swept him up and carried him to the door, he caught a glimpse of a stocky, solid build topped by grey hair. The thralls recovered quickly and had already forced the rescue party back with their superior numbers. Sandra looked around and spotted Harris slip behind the thralls and move to the Cave entrance.

"Are there any more?" she shouted over the gunfire. Harris shook his head and continued on into the Cave. "All right, people, let's wrap it up and get back inside," she shouted and the humans retreated under a blanket of fire.

Just as they were about to shut the door Sandra saw a figure struggling with a man over his shoulder.

"Hold it!" she ordered and reopened the door for the approaching figures. She stopped suddenly and barred the door when she noticed the uniform and brought the gun around to point directly at the thrall. "Just drop him and leave!" she barked.

The General eased the man off his shoulder and allowed the humans to take him inside.

"Why?" Sandra asked.

"There's been enough senseless killing, don't you think?"

Sandra Harrington nodded and went to close the door.

"Good luck," the stranger added.

"Thank you," she replied and then the door closed.

"Lieutenant, we have him," the sergeant reported happily when his men dragged the General before their new commander.

"Excellent," the Lieutenant replied "What about the humans?"

"We've cleared the house, about twenty dead, and the rest escaped into a hidden doorway. We are setting explosives now to gain entry."

"And our own losses?"

"Um, sir, we haven't had time to ascertain the full..."

"That many, Sergeant? No matter, you have done well." He looked up at the sound of wings in the night and saw three vampires peel off from the swarm and approach them while the rest continued on to the house.

"Bring the traitor here," he ordered and the thralls threw the General to the ground at his feet. He smiled evilly and spat at Evans while the figure struggled to his feet.

"I hope the master lets me deal with you personally," he gloated.

"I doubt we'll get that far," Evans replied and produced a grenade hidden in his sock. The Lieutenant's face went ashen when he saw Evans pull the pin and jump at him. The three vampires arrived and began to metamorphose.

The Lieutenant screamed and felt Evans clamp his hand around his neck and saw him look deep into his eyes. "Join me in Hell," he stated and then the grenade exploded.

The three vampires were caught by the blast, but it wasn't nearly enough to kill any of them. They reeled from the shock when shrapnel tore into their bodies and caused intense pain, but they recovered quickly and set upon the only mortals left.

"What is going on here?" Nero demanded and the Sergeant cowered beneath his baleful glare.

"Father, they're getting closer," Dan Harrington screamed as he glanced down at the priest.

"Nearly finished," Reilly muttered distractedly. He finished the blessing by making the sign of the cross over the well with some chrism. The cool water rippled when the priest sprayed the small vial across its surface. The well was situated at the bottom of the tower, leading some of the residents to speculate that the whole tower was there purely to collect rainwater and ensure a supply for cave residents.

"Father!" Harrington shouted again. His voice climbed several octaves while he watched the swarm of vampires begin their descent.

"Okay, we're done," Reilly shouted back. He pulled the cord on the motor that sat beside the well. The motor roared to life, then spluttered and died. "Shit!" Reilly blasphemed and offered a silent prayer before he pulled the cord again. This time the motor roared and then settled down to a constant hum while it sucked the water through the hose attached to it. The hose ran from the well all the way to the top where Harrington stood. Reilly watched while the hose hardened as gallons of water were forced upward.

When Harrington felt the hose straighten in his grip as it suddenly filled with water and the power threatened to rip the hose from his hands. He planted his feet solidly on the ground and put all his strength into holding the hose steady. Once the initial violence of the water filling the empty hose had abated somewhat he reached forward and opened the valve. Water shot out of the nozzle at tremendous force and arched out from the tower into the night air. The tower, while connected to the house, was not actually accessible from the dwelling. The only way in was through the Cave. On the outside it resembled a small circular turret that reached to the same height as the chimney.

Harrington had no idea what its planned use was, but was happy it was here. He shifted his feet slightly as he struggled to control the hose and direct it towards the approaching vampires.

"Father," he shouted through gritted teeth, "this thing is bucking like a son of a bitch!"

Father Reilly climbed the narrow steps as quickly as he could to help. Together, the two men slowly regained control over the flailing hose and directed the water at the vampires.

"I hope this works," Harrington shouted over the thunderous noise.

"So do I," said Reilly and he held grimly on.

The water shot out into the night and struck the lead vampire with full force. The power sent it reeling back through the swarm. Harrington could see shock register on the creature's face when it looked down at its chest. Gaping holes appeared where the water had hit the creature, and flesh melted away from bone. The creature opened its mouth to scream, but water had splashed onto its throat and destroyed the flesh there. The Vampire fell to the ground in silence.

Harrington grinned while he directed the stream of water from side to side, searing flesh from bone on contact.

Vampires started to fall from the sky; their bodies burned to an unrecognisable mess of bone and withered flesh. The first wave of vampires faltered as those at the back reacted. Bodies veered wildly to avoid the deadly stream.

Vampires crashed into each other in their panic. Their wickedly sharp talons raked deep furrows into each other, while water burned through wings and sent them spiralling to the ground.

Harrington and Reilly whooped for joy as the attack faltered and then broke completely apart.

"Not so tough now are you, motherfuckers?" Harrington shouted, and then sheepishly looked at Reilly. "Sorry, Father."

The priest grinned and was about to reply when suddenly, the hose went limp and the water ran out.