Chapter 22

In that moment before the vampire's fangs could sink into Stella's neck, Mark appeared at her side like a ghost. Without hesitation, he thrust the muzzle of his shotgun into the gaping maw of the vampire and pulled the trigger. The deafening blast shattered the night, obliterating the vampire's brain in a gruesome explosion of blood and bone.

Stella stood frozen for a split second, her eyes wide with gratitude and admiration as she processed what happened.

The other vampires in the scene were momentarily stilled too, their predatory instincts momentarily overridden by confusion. They didn't understand how Mark had suddenly appeared and shot one of their companions. Seizing the opportunity, Mark pivoted, his shotgun sweeping in an arc. He fired again, this time hitting the vampires that had been encircling Stella earlier. The impact sent one of them stumbling back, its hiss of pain filling the night.

The vampire, distracted, loosened its grip on Eben, who seized the moment with swift, desperate reflexes. Eben wrenched himself free, his adrenaline-fueled strength surprising the vampire. As it screeched in anger, he grabbed a nearby piece of debris, swinging it with all his might. The makeshift weapon connected with the vampire's head, stunning it momentarily.

Continuing to shoot at the vampires closing in, Mark pushed Stella forward, ensuring her safety. He swiftly aimed and fired, taking down another vampire that attempted to pursue Eben as he ran ahead. The unexpected arrival of a ditch driller, its front mounted with a menacing chainsaw, added chaos to the scene. The powerful machine plowed through some of the vampires, cutting them down like wheat before a scythe. Inside the driller, its driver Beau leaned out of the window, urgency etched on his face. "Come on!" he shouted, gesturing for them to follow and climb aboard the makeshift vehicle.

As Stella and Eben sprinted towards the driller, Mark made a decision to hold off the remaining vampires to ensure their escape.

He aimed his shotgun and fired, hitting a thin vampire that was closing in on the driller through the head. The creature stumbled twitching on the ground.

"Go!" Mark shouted to Stella and Eben, his voice firm and resolute. "I'll hold them off. Get to safety! I'll follow later!"

Stella hesitated for a moment, her eyes filled with concern for Mark. Her heart wrenched at the thought of leaving him behind, but she knew they had no time to waste. With a final glance, she nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and climbed into the driller, her heart heavy with leaving him.

Eben, understanding the urgency of their situation, gave Stella's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before they both settled inside the driller. Without pause, the vehicle surged forward, its powerful momentum carrying them away from the danger.

As they drove away, Stella couldn't shake the image of Mark standing strong against the encroaching vampires. The driller continued on its way, its metal shell providing them with a temporary sanctuary leaving Mark behind to face the remaining vampires alone.

The vampires, their cold, predatory eyes fixed on Mark, watched in astonishment as he stood in the middle of the road, a playful grin stretching across his face. A brunette vampire sniffed the air, her eyes glinting with hunger and desire, spoke in a guttural ancient language. "{He's mine}," she hissed.

A blonde vampire, her jagged teeth bared, responded with equal determination, "{No, he's mine.}" A red-haired vampire, her eyes ablaze with longing, chimed in, "{First one to bite him wins.}"

Mark, hearing the females speak in their tongue, looked visibly confused, unable to comprehend their words.

The trio of female vampires stood there, locked in a weird standoff, their instincts driving a fierce competition. The male vampires, momentarily forgotten in the midst of the female vampires' rivalry, exchanged uncertain looks. It was an unusual situation, one that seemed to defy the natural order of their hierarchy. However, they remained silent, seemingly unsure of how to intervene or resolve the peculiar standoff among their female counterparts. The tension in the air crackled with anticipation as the female vampires deliberated, their gazes shifting between one another and Mark.

In a split-second, the air crackled with tension as the trio of female vampires lunged at Mark, their movements excited and feral. Their eyes glowed with hunger, and their jagged teeth gleamed in the dim light as they closed in on their prey. But before they could even register what was happening, Mark's reflexes sprang into action, his body moving with speed and precision.

With lightning speed, Mark sidestepped the brunette vampire's outstretched claws, narrowly avoiding the deadly grasp. The blonde vampire lunged, aiming for his throat, but Mark deftly twisted away, dodging the attack. In a blur of motion, he delivered a powerful palm strike to the brunette vampire's navel, a forceful blow that sent her stumbling backward, surprise and pain flickering across her face.

Seizing the moment, Mark spun around, his hand moving like a blur as he struck the blonde vampire with precision. His palm connected with her abdomen, and she let out a gasp of shock as the impact lifted her off her feet, hurling her several feet away. The red-haired vampire, undeterred by her companions' plight, lunged at Mark with fierce determination, her fangs bared menacingly. But Mark was faster. With a lightning-quick movement, he brought his hand down in a slapping motion, striking her navel with strong force.

The impact was like a thunderclap, the sound of the blow cracked in the night. The red-haired vampire let out a strangled cry as she was sent hurtling backward, crashing into the snow covered ground with a bone-rattling thud. All three vampires, now disoriented and winded from Mark's lightning-quick strikes, were flung back to where they stood earlier, sprawled on the ground, momentarily incapacitated.

Undeterred by Mark's feats, the male vampires snarled in anger, their predatory instincts overriding any surprise they might have felt. With determination, they rushed towards him.

As the first vampire closed the distance, Mark raised his shotgun, aiming for its face. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, but there was only a hollow click. His shotgun was empty. He made a subtle gesture with his hand, and the shotgun disappeared into thin air. Another wave of his hand, and it reappeared, loaded and ready.

With renewed confidence, Mark took aim and fired. The blast tear through the night as the first vampire was struck, its body convulsing from the impact. Despite the onslaught, the remaining vampires pressed on, undeterred by their fallen comrade.

Amidst the attack, Mark found himself constantly on the move, his feet carrying him backward as the vampires closed in with astonishing speed. He became a figure in perpetual motion, his steps quick and agile as he navigated the uneven terrain, always staying one step ahead of the relentless vampires

With each pull of the trigger, he sent blasts of buckshot tearing through the night, hitting his targets with accuracy. Yet, despite his skill and precision, the vampires proved to be incredibly fast and agile, their movements almost blur-like as they lunged and dodged.

At times, he ran in a circle, leading the vampires on a wild chase, only to abruptly change direction and fire his shotgun, catching them off guard. The vampires snarled in frustration, their attempts to corner him thwarted by his constant movement. The female vampire trio watched the scene in eagerness with annoyance to their useless male companions.

Mark furrowed his brows in deep concentration, his eyes scanning the battlefield. Despite his relentless onslaught, he realized with growing frustration that the number of his enemies showed no sign of diminishing. To his astonishment, the vampires he had blasted in the face had started to rise again, their regenerative abilities allowing them to endure even the most severe injuries.

Analyzing the situation. He observed that those whose brains had suffered extensive damage remained incapacitated, their bodies stilled on the ground. It became evident that merely injuring their facial features wouldn't be enough to neutralize these ugly vampires.

With this revelation, Mark swiftly altered his tactics, creating a distance between himself and the encroaching vampires.

"Is that gasoline I smell?" he questioned aloud, his voice cutting through the tense night air. The vampires, driven by their heightened senses, instinctively sniffed the surroundings, confirming Mark's statement.

In a heartbeat, Mark retrieved a molotov cocktail from his storage space. Hurriedly, he lit the makeshift weapon and, without missing a beat, hurled it at one of the vampires closing in on him. The glass container shattered upon impact, releasing a torrent of flaming liquid that engulfed the vampire in a searing inferno. The creature shrieked in agony as flames licked at its gaunt form, momentarily halting the advance of its companions.

Mark's strategic use of fire had created a momentary barrier, forcing the vampires to reassess their approach. The scent of gasoline hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid odor of burning flesh, marking Mark's temporary reprieve in the battle against the supernatural horde.

He continued hurling molotov cocktails onto the downed vampires, ensuring that they were engulfed in the searing flames. Each fiery explosion illuminated the night, casting shadows as the vampires writhed in agony. He exploited the creatures' vulnerability and prevented them from regaining their footing. The other vampires, witnessing their fallen companions being consumed by the flames, let out guttural snarls of fury and frustration.