C.O.T.V.H. (Book 2): Judgment by Dustin J. Palmer Page B

easier?”
    “Little lady, I’ve been asked that question more times than I can count and my answer is always the same.  People aren’t ready for it.  They are scared, fragile things that would murder their first cousin if enough people convinced them they were a threat to their cozy little lives.  Some would even join forces with the vampires if it meant they could be safe.  Look at Nazi Germany.  People would turn in their next-door neighbor at the drop of a hat as long as it meant they could keep what they had.  No.”  He shook his head.  “Society in general enjoys the illusion of safety.  They'd rather sit back and watch their TV shows then face what's really going on."
    "That's a really dark way of thinking," Amber said, “I've got a little more faith in mankind than that."
    Cort shrugged and again spit into his cup.  "I hope you're right.  I'm just telling you that I don't see it.  Anyway, I'm getting off topic a bit.  Now, even worse than grunts, more deadly, more evil are what we call Makers.  Makers are those that turn humans into either grunts or another Maker.  While grunts can only make other grunts, a Maker can make either.  Some people theorize that the Makers can even read and control the minds of those they control.  Now if you ask me that's a bunch of horse shi . . . eh stuff.  But one thing’s for sure.  Makers are the true source of the disease, the evil . . . the possession, whatever you want to call it.  They are the cause.  One bite, one nibble, and you’re theirs.” 
    “Where did the first Makers come from?” Whisper asked again in a very quiet voice.
    “No one knows.  They could be mutants, or aliens from another planet, or hell they could be demons sent from the devil himself.  Honestly, we just don't know.  What we do know is that every culture in history has some legends about blood drinkers.  From the Greeks to Romans to Vikings and Native Americans, all around the world as far back as you can go you will find vampires popping up.”
    Cort coughed and spit a mouthful of tobacco juice into his cup.  “Now, the thing about Makers is that they are hard as hell to find.  Most times a hunter just runs across one while hunting grunts.  You can’t really track them.  They move around too much.  But when you do find one . . . boy . . . now I'm here to tell you.  A Maker is one tough son of a bitch.  I've seen them literally rip a man limb from limb."
    Cort gave Buck a sad glance as if his mind was wandering to a memory from long ago.  He looked away then continued.
    "They are hard as hell to kill.  They are faster, stronger, more agile, and much deadlier than even the best Hunter.  They've got claws longer than a cougar's that can cut through damn near anything.  Bullets only slow them down as they tend to regenerate much faster than their grunt counterparts."
    "So how do we kill them?" Amber asked.
    "You've got to hit them hard, hit them fast and do the maximum amount of damage you can before they get back on their feet,” Cort said, slamming his fist into the table for affect.   "You've got to cut off their heads and even that won't kill them entirely. You've got to pierce their hearts and when all else fails you throw them into sunlight.  It hurts them more than anything else, even slows down their regenerative powers.  You get a Maker into even a few rays of sunlight and you've got a chance.  Now if you miss that chance there's a very good chance you will end up dead."
    "Have you lost a lot of friends?" Diana asked.
    "Yeah . . . I've lost some friends.  Men I loved like brothers.  Men I fought side by side with, that had more guts in my little finger than all of these drill sergeants put together.  My son's wife, Jake’s mom was like a daughter to me.  It never gets easier.  We live a bloody, sad life.  But that’s not even the worst. The absolute worst is when a brother doesn't die, he turns, and you have to put him down. 
    “I’ve