It took a handful of nighttime raids before the Germans figured out what they were dealing with and began active countermeasures: a squad of soldier-priests led by a German vampire who helped them track the American squad.

Sampson was out hunting four-legged food for the squad and had picked off a wild boar. They were plentiful, they were pigs, and the unit didn't have to hurt some farmer's livelihood by stealing a domesticated pig. It was a younger one, maybe 100 pounds, and he'd hung it by its feet from a tree, bleeding it into a rubber collector sheet that funneled the liquid into a canteen.

The German vampire came from downwind, trying to catch Sampson in a flying tackle, but he wasn't quite as stealthy as he thought. Sampson moved out of the way and the German got the blood collector sheet across the face as he flew past, clipping the tree with his shoulder and bouncing off into a barrell roll before regaining his feet.

The German was probably Alain's size, maybe a tad smaller. He definitely outclassed Sampson in weight and reach. Sampson tried to fake him out, and get around him, but the German was both fast and nimble, cutting him off at every attempt, but never actually trying to engage him. Sampson heard the approaching soldier-priests and realized the German vampire was trying to distract him and hold him while they snuck up. Why fight when his approaching buddies could do it for him?

Since going forward or backward wasn't an option, Sampson went up, scaling trunk of the closest tree. The German climbed up after him. When Sampson was 20 or so feet up, he waited for the German's hand to get within inches of his boot, then leapt. If Sampson couldn't get through or around, he'd go over. By the time the German realized what was happening, Sampson already had a lead, but Sampson kept it narrow. If the German wanted to introduce Sampson to his friends, Sampson had a few friends to introduce too.

Once he got within earshot of where the unit had been setting up camp, Sampson stopped and made a stand, waiting for the vampire to get closer. The German vampire approached slowly, sniffing the air and listening intently. "Come on, you German vampire," Sampson shouted, emphasizing the last two words. "How many buddies you got out in the woods?" The vampire merely answered by emitting a high-pitched screech, presumably intended to help his squadmates locate him.

Back at the camp, Vinnie and Reese quickly secured their gear, tying their duffels onto their packs, getting ready to move out. "Stow that gear," Alain whispered.

"Are you nuts," Vinnie asked.

"That's an order, Rinaldi," Alain barked in a harsh whisper. "Reese, get around their flank and find out what's approaching."

Reese continued securing his pack. Vinnie, seeing him, did the same.

"What the Hell are you doing, Reese," Alain growled.

Reese looked him in the eye, speaking calmly and quietly. "Deserting."

It took all of Alain's self control not to stand up and yell at Reese. "We've got a man out there, putting his life on the line for us."

"So let's hump it and make sure his sacrifice isn't in vain," Reese replied, smiling a sardonic grin.

Alain lost his cool. "We are not leaving a man behind!"

Reese put a finger to his lips and shushed Alain. "If you think I'm risking my neck for that nigger," he said quietly, "you can go fuck yourself." He said it almost cheerfully and smiled at Alain afterward.

Reese stood up, shouldered his pack, gave a flippant salute, and ran off. Vinnie looked after him, looked at Alain, shrugged, and took off after Reese. Alain was tempted to follow just so he could beat the ever-lovin' stuffin' out of them, but that would have to wait. He wasn't going to leave Sampson hanging.

The German anti-vampire unit may have been trained in fighting vampires, but they weren't trained in stealth. They crunched around in the woods like priests in boots. The fact that they actually were priests in boots wasn't an excuse. Sending ill-trained men like this on a vampire hunt was like sending a marching band after a murderer. The only difference was the priests had the right weapons for the job, unlike the poor shnook in the marching band who'd have to bludgeon the murderer to death with a tuba.

Alain circled around behind them and scouted the party, counting five soldier-priests coming up behind the German vampire. The German wouldn't risk engaging Sampson one-on-one, and Sampson seemed to think that was a very good idea. The two of them stood there, waiting as the German's unit came up from behind him and Alain came up behind them.

The Germans had spread out to cast a wide net behind their pet vampire. Alain planned to take them out one at a time, sneaking up, covering their mouths, and snapping their necks. But there was a complication. Each priest wore a hooded chain mail shirt made of silver.

Alain changed his plan on the fly, speeding up as he approached, throwing an elbow at the German priest's head as hard as he could. Between his vampire strength and vampire speed, the elbow hit like a war hammer, crushing the back of the priest's skull and driving bone fragments into his brain. The priest dropped like a marionette with the strings cut. "Sleeves one, silver zero," Alain thought to himself.

Alain took out the other four priests in a similar manner, then circled back around so he could come up behind Sampson. When he entered the German vampire's sightline, Sampson and the German were leaning against trees, about 30 feet apart, each smoking a cigarette while the German vampire hummed a bouncy polka tune.

"Your friends are dead," Alain said, walking up confidently beside Sampson, which was more difficult than it looked. The disadvantage of stronger senses was that you could smell cigarette smoke more intensely from farther distances. Standing next to Sampson was like standing in a room full of smokers with the windows closed. Alain didn't need to cough, but the urge to wrinkle his nose and blink his eyes was hard to resist.

The German vampire looked to be barely older than 19 or 20, the sort of fresh-scrubbed blonde Teuton that Hitler favored as his master race. If it hadn't been for the black uniform of a junior officer in the SS and that German sneer, the kid could have played Flash Gordon's younger brother. Slowly straightening up, the German casually stubbed out his cigarette on the tree behind him and dropped the butt in a tobacco pouch to save for later, demonstrating that he believed he was going to be around later to smoke it.

Placing the pouch back in his coat, he smiled and waved at Alain before emitting another of his high pitched screeches. The screech covered the twang of a crossbow firing and a split second later Sampson was falling to the ground with a thick wooden bolt piercing his heart.

Alain guessed where the bolt had been fired from and scanned the trees as he crouched down and picked up a pebble. About 20 feet behind the German vamp and 20 feet over, he saw a soldier-priest he must have missed, most of his body blocked by a fallen tree, sighting down a crossbow at him.

Alain shook his head. The vamp must have started smoking first, luring Sampson into lighting up. The smell of the smoke would have covered the scent of the approaching soldiers while the vampire's humming would have covered the sound of the sniper creeping up and getting in position. The soldiers farther back in the forest were merely the sweepers. The sniper followed more closely, getting in place first and waiting for Sampson's back-up to show so he could get multiple kills.

Alain threw the pebble as hard as he could, sidearm, catching the soldier priest between the eyebrows, just under the ridge of his silver hood. The pebble bored through the man's skull like a bullet and he slumped, a finger twitch sending the bolt with Alain's name on it firing harmlessly into the ground 10 feet away.

The German vampire's nonchalance vanished. He looked frightened for a moment, but replaced it quickly with anger. Alain ran toward him, goading him to come forward. The German took the bait, rushing toward Alain. Just as they were about to collide, Alain swerved so they ran past one another.

Alain ran to where the crossbow bolt pierced the ground and grabbed it, turning and running back toward the German, who had recovered from the near miss and was heading toward Alain at breakneck speed. The two of them slammed together so hard Alain's eyeballs rattled, but he wrapped his left arm around the German's midsection to keep them from bouncing apart.

When they hit, Alain had the bolt in his right hand, his fist at the base, the bolt pointing upward, and his fist held low near his belt. Perhaps the German had been expecting an overhand strike or thought that overhand was the only way a fatal blow could be delivered. Whichever it was, he didn't defend against Alain's right hand, opting instead to try to wrap Alain up and throw him to the ground, expecting to wrestle. But Alain took advantage of the embrace to jam the tip of the bolt through the German's upper abdomen, in under the rib cage, and spear his heart from beneath.

The German's embrace went slack and Alain let him drop to the ground.

He thought momentarily about burying Sampson, but didn't see the point. It would serve no religious purpose and even bugs had better sense than to nibble at a vampire carcass. When the sun came up, Sampson and the German would start dissolving. In a few days there'd be nothing left of them but their clothes.

Alain ran back to the campsite, secured his pack, and took off in the direction Vinnie and Reese had gone.