Young Writers Society

For centuries, the plague of sparkling abominations lived among humanity. The most savage of all predators. On March 11, 2010, General Cyrus united the worlds nations into one. The most horrific atrocity to have ever occurred this century had descended upon the country of Italy like a cloud of death.

A fourth of the population had been slain. Bodies littered the streets, and homes lay in ruins. Everything was the same throughout the country. Livestock lay dead in the fields, families were found pale in their beds, houses and businesses were obliterated. Not even scavengers would feast on the flesh of the dead, which was completely devoid of blood.

It was as if the end had come for Italy. It had initially caused an uproar of chaos in surrounding countries, but soon the news spread overseas. The Earth echoed with the shouts of madness. For the span of seven days, nothing was known, and the world was left to speculate.

That is how it was. That is, until General Cyrus caught the first sight of them. In the black of dusk, while going outside of the base, he had seen a group of five people surround a patrol of ten men and... tear them apart, right in front of his eyes.

He gritted his teeth, remembering that moment. The vast courtyard he was in was bathed in harsh sunlight. It was as if the God was taunting humanity. Not that he believed in such things as a God. But he was not an immoral man. On the contrary, his sole mission, his reason for existence, was to save lives. He turned to face his men. The carnage was three days ago. Today he would end it all. This was the final solution. For an entire week news reports of the mysterious groups of people had began to spring around the globe like blossoming flowers at the dawn of spring.

He furrowed his brow in anger, recalling the events. Entire towns were decimated, people vanished like never before, an unprecedented number of abductions, countless automobile accidents, in which only one car having dead bodies. The other always mysteriously empty, as if the individual, or individuals had simply walked out.

But today, today was the day of cleansing. The once luscious garden of the Earth was going to be weeded. Every one of the monstrosities was going to be hunted down until none remained.

General Cyrus stood tall and gazed at his line of men. Thousands, no millions, of the world's finest men and women were under his command. "At attention soldiers!" He barked.

The sea of uniforms snapped into salute in unison.

"You are all apart of the greatest assembly of armed forces ever established! You are from different back grounds, different nationalities, different colors, different beliefs, and different ways of life!" he paused, surveying the faces of the world. "But you are all the same," he finally said.

There was silence, it seemed to echo through the air. General Cyrus smiled. Silence, is music for the soul. He raised his chin and stared at the sky, graying clouds loomed in the distance. Dancing in their vaporized state, painting the horizon in bleakness.

He lowered his head and peered into the stern faces of the arms under his command. "You are about to trample, fly, drive, over the largest war zone that shall ever be on the face of the Earth," General Cyrus shouted. "Are you ready to purge the earth of death!?"

"Hooah!" The armed forces chanted as one.

"Are you humanity's saviors!?"

"Hooah!" The shouts rang throughout the courtyard, the voices mingling like the smallest of molecules. As the world's armed forces continued to chant, eagles soared over head. Their wings stretching out like those of war machines. There were hundreds of them. The faces of the chanters rose toward the skies. They pointed at the majestic creatures, gawking at the awe inspiring sight. The birds shielded the sky with their splendor, covering the ground in shadow. He knew that they were migrating to a better land.

General Cyrus could not help but stare open mouthed at all the enthusiastic faces, glowing with pride, each of them more radiant than the sun itself. But then he felt pangs of remorse. How many would he lose? He closed his eyes as chants sang around him.

Even with his eyes closed, he could still feel the eagles over head, his people's aura, and the Earth itself, singing words of hope.

He opened his eyes, invigorated with purpose. "It is time!" he shouted.

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

Never, under any circumstance, would the top General fight along side his troops, but times had changed, and General Cyrus could not imagine being apart from his people. For once, the world had joined hands.

"Alright!" he barked to the convey riding with him. "You know these things aren't affected in the slightest by our standard fire arms." A few soldiers noticeably shuddered. "But never fear, we know their weakness." One young man sighed in relief. "They can be pierced by .50 caliber shells, and similarly powerful weapons, but that alone will not kill them. No, according to a man named Dr. Cullen, they are only dead after their remains are burned."

Soldiers looked down at their weaponry, understanding flickering in their eyes. "Yes, that is why we have all been given weaponry of such power." General Cyrus felt no shame in placing himself in their level. It felt natural, after all, he was their friend. Everybody in the world had to be friends, otherwise, their mutual destruction was assured. All hands had to be linked. Any fracture in the chain would spell death.

Along with their weaponry, each individual had a mask resting on their laps. General Cyrus felt the plane dip as it lost altitude. They were landing into the valley of death. He grabbed his mask and buried his face in it. Looking out from the black he said, "The reek of charred bodies will be so great no man can bear it, so masks on!" he ordered.

At once everyone frantically concealed their faces in the dark masks. By the time the planes landing wheels grazed the earth, the plane was occupied by one group of people. The same people.

Time seemed to have stopped as the plane raced over the Earth's crust. It was as if the grandfather clock had finally given up the ghost. But when the back off the plane sprang open, life began anew, time having been reset.

"Let's move! Let's move!" he shouted already rushing out.

"Hooah!" hundreds of voices blared. The footfalls pounded on the planes titanium floor like comets striking the earth. Outside the world was in flames. Buildings lay in ruin as far as the eye could see. Their windows shattered, glass shards shimming like crystals on the streets. Tanks growled just out of sight.

The sky over the war zone was black with storm clouds, along with the smoke and ash of death. Jets swept over head in blurs, their sonic booms echoing behind them. Missiles streaked the darkness, and explosive winds whistled through the air. Fire balls bloomed like fiery flowers on the battlefield.

General Cyrus shielded his eyes from the infernos. Then he sprinted over the rumbling ground, his high velocity incendiary grenade launcher buckling at his side. It had been developed specifically for this war, was the most powerful weapon of it's kind. The war to end all wars. What the first World war was meant to be. He ground to a stop when one of them was in his sights. A vampire.

Lines creased his forehead as he aimed the weapon at it. The vampire's skin sparkled where the dancing flames shined on it. Before he could even begin to squeeze the trigger it was out of his sights in a blur. He cursed and spun in a circle. Where was it?

He spotted it atop a collapsed business building. It was looking at something in the sky. General Cyrus squinted, trying to get a glimpse of what it was. He grit his teeth in frustration and shook a fist. I'm such a fool! The monsters have eagle vision! Of course he can see something I can't!

When the rumble of helicopter blades sounded over the whizzing rocks and constant fire of grenades, he understood. He raised his weapon again. Just as he got the vampire in his sights he gasped. It was holding a piece of metal debris like it was a paper weight. Helicopters hovered over head.

He squeezed the trigger, the launcher kicking back, pain shooting up his arm. Before the grenade hit the vampire it hurled the debris into the sky. General Cyrus's jaw dropped in horror as it collided with a helicopter. It spiraled through the air, wildly spinning in circles. Coils of smoke snaking around it. With a sickening crinkle of metal it bashed into another helicopter, whose propellers sliced through another creating a deadly chain reaction.

General Cyrus did not look at the vampire as it exploded into smithereens, as helicopters rained down around him. Booms resounded as they struck. Some dug ditches as their propellers continued to spin, slicing through the ground. Fountains of flame and plumes of smoke rose around him. If it weren't for his mask, he was sure he would become exfixiated by the absence of oxygen. The vampires, however, didn't seem to require it.

Every helicopter that had fallen from the sky was a smoking mess. General Cyrus swore as he fled the metallic corpses, knowing their was no time to look for survivors. Multitudes of soldiers swarmed the place, firing their weapons. Streaks of orange and smoke zoomed through the air. The screams of vampires confirming the hits.

Huge projectiles were flying through the air, homing in on the men. "NO!" General Cyrus yelled as two soldiers running along side each other became a red mist as a truck bashed into them.

He had not a seconds more of mourning, as a car was spinning through the air toward him. He dashed to the right, the car scrunching on the asphalt behind him. He crouched down low and aimed. He homed in on a group of three vampires, two female, one male. He let them have it, the recoil almost knocking him off his feet.

Before they even knew what hit them, the trio was obliterated by the grenade. General Cyrus whipped his hands around, finding another group. He pulled the trigger. It all happened so fast, one second the grenade was soaring through the air, about to strike one of the targets, and then one lashed out and caught it like a baseball!

He dove out of the way as it flew by. He heard the explosion and felt the heat as it struck a building. A plume of dust engulfed him. Lying prone on the ground, he aimed, blinking against the dirt. When the vampires locked eyes with him, his heart seemed to have stopped beating. He trembled from his very bones as one of them squatted down into a cat like stance.

Just as he was ready to taste death, a tanks mortar gun boomed, the vampires disappearing in a cloud of smoke and powdered concrete. Their body parts clunking on the ground like boulders. General Cyrus placed his arms down at his sides like he were about to do a push up and thrust out with his shoulders, springing up on his feet.

The tank that had saved his life rumbled past, others following in it's wake. He stepped quickly back as one of the tanks furthest at the back was flipped on it's side, it's wheels uselessly spinning. It was as pitiful a sight as it was horrific. The tank behind it slowly pointed it's mortar gun at the side. The explosion slightly rocked the tipped over tank.

Fleeing the area, he hoped the vampires that had tipped the tank had been killed. He ran through ranks of young soldiers, screaming words of encouragement. "Keep fighting! Don't let the monsters win! Keep the fight on our side!"

"I'll never give up!" a runner said as he ran past, going in the opposite direction, an rpg in his arms.

I know you won't. I know I won't. I know... we won't.