Pursuit

The Thralls were not fast, but they did not stop. The young man wasn’t tired, but he was out of the special bullets he had stolen from the Tinker’s shop, and the gun he had also stolen was useless without them. Running was the only option, running through the streets until the sun rose. He risked a glance behind him and there were still a dozen or so jogging after him with their mouths agape.

The vampire had freed them all right, freed them to hunt down his enemies.

The young man had just shot what had been his sister in the face with the last blessed bullet, and he felt nothing. He had found her finally after a twelve hour search. She was eating-well, Thralls were known to feed in a particular way according to the Tinker’s book (also stolen) and once they did there was nothing left but to kill them. Usually with excessive head trauma. Anger, sadness, loss, guilt: none of these did the young man feel. He did not feel tired like he had days earlier, he barely felt the streets beneath him as his feet pounded away to propel him forward. He had a strange thought, and stopped to consider it.

The Thralls came to within ten feet of him and also stopped. They were also not out of breath, having no need to breathe. They growled and snarled. Some had wounds that would no longer heal.

“Why do you kill the innocent?” The young man had no reason to think they would understand. He knew they would though.

Hunger.

“Why do you chase me?”

Master.

“Where is your master?”

Master.

“This is ridiculous. Where is your master, so that I may kill him?”

There was no answer to that one. The young man walked close to them. He paid no attention to their growls and snarls. He put his face close to one of the more recently-turned Thralls and searched for any sign of intelligence. Nothing. The young man looked about, and walked over to the steps leading up to the nearest building. He sat, and waited. Hours went buy. The street lights turned off, and the Thrall started to quiet and wander about. At first they scattered, but then they all turned and shambled in the same direction.

The young man looked up from the Tinker’s book. “‘The Thralls may range at night but fearing the rise of a sun they return to the nest of their master vampyr’. At least the Tinker’s book doesn’t lie.” He stood and blinked in the first harsh rays of the morning sun. Better stick to the shadows while he followed the Thralls till his eyes adjusted.