Monsters

“Are you certain you want to continue?”1

Rain plasters his soft blond hair to his head in a slick helmet as he sits crouched on the edge of outer guard wall. The sentry is sprawled behind him, unmoving, his head at an off angle. No heat fills his chest, no fury, no pain. A simple clarity of thought, a calculation, is all he feels. This has to end.2

- - - - - 3

Haydn’s mother had objected, of course. She had begged and pleaded with his father to send their son back to England with his grandparents, where he would be safe from the war and the drafting of young men. His father had argued their son would never see the outside of a barracks, much less live in one. The boy was, after all, only a few months out of eighteen years. They had plenty of older boys to fight for their cause. Three months later, in a show of strength he hadn’t felt, he had held her as she wept, watching their only son walk away and climb into the bed of the truck with the other boys. There was no telling what would happen to him after this point, no guarantee they would ever see him alive again. 4

The truck ride was long and bumpy, with only scattered conversation. Of the twenty they picked up, only three or four truly wanted to be there. The end of the ride was worse. Up at dawn, run ragged, then to bed well after sunset with two meals a day of over boiled potatoes and cabbage with hard bread and salty, stringy meat for dinner. All for the single purpose of creating the perfect soldier from the perfect race. Haydn kept his head down and his mouth shut. They all knew the punishment for speaking out- for being different. 5

He was eventually assigned to a camp in southern Germany by the name of Kazakstad. 6

- - - - -7

Chaos reigns inside the walls of the camp. Alarms scream into the night as soldiers come pouring out of their shelters, guns slung over their shoulders, ready and loaded. They expect to find an uprising in the prisoners, a rebellion. The headquarters in the middle of the camp is engulfed in flames, beyond saving. What they find stops them in their tracks with confusion. Two men, one with dark hair falling to his shoulders and dark eyes, the other with short blond hair and oddly familiar blue eyes.8

“Pierce? Haydn Pierce?” One of them finally ventures in disbelief.9

The blond man smiles, and in the flickering light of the burning building, his teeth seem oddly… bright.10

- - - - -11

“Pierce! Front and center!”12

Haydn jumped to attention and marched stiffly over to his commanding officer. General Villis was not one to ignore. “SIR!”13

Villis glared down from under his caterpillar eyebrows. “Pierce, are you aware that the head count this morning was short by four captives?”14

“NO SIR!” Of course he’d known. It had only been announced thorough the barracks this morning along with the rumor that heads would roll.15

The general frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Last night was your watch on the tower, Pierce. As it was the last time we lost prisoners, and the time before that.”16

Haydn bit his tongue and carefully studied the gold embroidery on the lapels of Villis’s uniform. Would he assume it was negligence? Falling asleep? Please, God, any thing but the truth.17

“You have no thoughts on the subject?” Villis prodded. When Haydn remained silent, the general frowned further and with a dismissive gesture, the solder was suddenly flanked by two of his peers. “Take him to be questioned.”18

The next time Haydn was seen, he was dumped outside the camp’s walls. Left out to feed the animals.19

- - - - -20

The bullets are like beestings. Nothing. He tears through them, soft, venerable things that they are, like wet tissue paper. Blood stains the front of his shirt, runs down his face and arms, coating him like the rain. Still there is no rage, no sadness, no fear. Just clarity. Soon the mud is tinted red and the soldiers finally begin to run.21

The hunt is on.22

- - - - -23

Haydn knew he was dying. He could feel the life seeping from his limbs with every heartbeat. He wasn’t afraid to die, but the despair, the waste of his life crushed him. What could he have done, if he could live? He had helped those poor people escape, but there were so many others. There had to be a way to save them all…24

A shadow shifted in the trees, and Haydn finally saw the dark young man standing at the edge of the moonlight. The soldier almost sighed with relief. The angel of death.25

The angel slowly moved to kneel beside the beaten man, his face soft. “Haydn Pierce,” he whispered, “I can save you, if you wish.” 26

He must have seen the answer in the soldier’s eyes, because he slowly lowered his head, his lips pulling back from his teeth. 27

Haydn only had a moment to wonder before his world went black.28

- - - - - 29

He pushes the gates open, turning back to the prisoners creeping from their shelters, surveying the destruction around them in the light of the burning buildings. They take it all in- the dead soldiers, the destroyed buildings, the two men covered in blood.30

He gestures to the gates. “Go. You’re free.”31

Their sunken eyes are wide with fear as they cling to each other, the rain dripping down their skeletal forms.32

“Monster…” One breathes with horror.33

Pierce freezes where he stands and slowly closes his eyes as a warm hand grips his shoulder34

“They can’t know, Haydn.”35

He shakes off the comforting hand of his sire with irritation, a pain blooming in his chest. “No. They should know better then anyone. True monsters rise with the dawn.”