The Dead Rise

The dark crypt had not been visited in centuries, its underground entrance buried beneath the soil in an unmarked grave discreetly placed near a maple tree. As the small group moved down the stairs that was revealed upon digging up the site, the stale and dusty air only made one of the four cough. A young women, with tears in her eyes wearing a white dress walked between the three figures all wearing black robes with hoods, their faces covered by white, blank masks.
The stairs turned in a sharp corner only to be stopped by a large brick wall, covered by the roots of the tree that grew above it. One of the men approached the wall, arching his arm back and with a grunt he punched it knocking several bricks out of place, then quickly ripping out bricks until a sufficient entry way for the group to walk through was created.
The dust rose in the room again and the young women began coughing, even deeper than before. As the the two men leading the group walked through to the next chamber, the women stood still until the figure behind her gave her a shove. "move", he ordered and she obeyed, "and stop breathing", he demanded and to her horror she obeyed this command as well. At first panic overwhelmed her, she really stopped breathing, she felt as if she would suffocate, but as the seconds turned to minutes, she felt nothing. She wasn't breathing and didn't seem to need to. How or why this was, was beyond her, but it calmed her, the panic relenting.
The next chamber was nothing more than a dug out hole in the ground, no more than 15 square feet with brick walls keeping the earth around it from crumbling in on top of the chamber. Many of bricks had crumbled over time as roots grew from the sides and the top of the chamber. In the center stood a single, undistinctive stone sarcophagus with a large, heavy stone lid.
One of the masked men approached the sarcophagus, running his hand across the top of the lid, wiping the dust away. Then suddenly without warning he grabbed the edges of the lid with both hands and turned it over as if it was made of paper. As it hit the ground it split in two, again kicking up dust in the room.
"I need light", the masked figure commanded as one of the other men pulled out a flashlight from beneath his robe, shining it on the contents of the stone coffin.
Inside the decomposing remains of a man appeared. The body still had skin though it was dry and flaky, adding to the dusty feeling of the room. The head had some hair remaining and the eye sockets were not empty, though the eyelids were closed.
Suddenly the eyelids of the long dead man opened, though no part of his body moved, his eyeballs almost completely black began to move and look around the room. As the eyes focused on the man standing over the stone coffin, his mouth began to move, but no sound came out.
The man standing over the sarcophagus pulled off his mask, "Sire", he said as he bowed respectfully to the creature inside. "I apologize for disturbing your long sleep, but you asked to be awakened when the time has come and I believe it has", the man spoke slowly. When he finished the man inside the coffin began to move his dried and cracking arm, putting it on the side of the coffin though he lacked the strength to pull himself up. "Don't struggle sire", the man standing over the coffin cautioned.
"Bring her", he commanded as one of the men pushed the women, ruggedly saying "your up princes". While her body language was clearly reluctant, she approached the sarcophagus, until she got close enough for the now maskless man to grab her by the neck. She attempted to struggle, but was overpowered as the man pushed her on top of the corpse laying still in the stone coffin.
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The creature from the crypt rose to a sitting position, the zombified remains where more animated but it was still a monstrocity so unsightly even the two men in the back could barely look upon it.
"Who is the prince of London?", the voice was raspy and deeply quiet, the creature still moving slowly in its weakened state.
"I'm uncertain sire, but you are not in London", the maskless man reported reluctantly, seemingly aware that this would not go over well. "It became necessary to move you, the situation in London had become", the man paused for a moment choosing his words carefully, "unstable".
"How long?", the voice boomed louder this time, while slowly pulling himself to his feet.
"It's the year, 2020 sire, you have slept for 130 years.", the man stepped back slightly to make room for the rising vampire still wrapped in rags. The two men in the back pulled out large black robes, similar to theirs. The elder vampire cast off his dusty rags has he stepped out of the sarcophagus revealing rotting flesh and bone. He approached the men, turned his back to them and stretched out his arms as the men lay the robe around him.
"Where are we?", the elder vampire spoke, losing some of the strength in his voice from the small excursion out of his coffin as he tied off the robe with markedly slow movement.
"The America's sire, in the city of Chicago", the unmasked man spoke quickly as he backed away uncertain how his elder would take the news.
"The new world?", the elder vampire inquired as he turned to his subjects, looking at them one by one? "Yes sire" one of the men replied.
"Who rules this city?", the elder asked with a rising strength in his voice. One of the men excited to make the report spoke before the others. "The Camarilla your grace, a vampire by the na...", he never got to finish the sentence. Suddenly without warning the elder vampire swooped down on the robed childe, grabbed him by the neck like a rag doll, exposing his fangs and opening his jaws so wide that when he finished draining him his head popped off.
One of the other vampires tried to make a run for the door, but the creature from the crypt was on top of him before he could take a second step. He was drained in seconds as the unmasked vampire watched, his eyes filled with terror.
The elder vampire threw the limp body to the ground, already turning to ash as the cloak reached the floor gently kicking up dust. The creatures face already beginning to regenerate though still looking like the walking dead, turned to the last of his followers.
"Who rules this city?" the monster asked again, blood dripping from his mouth.
"You do sire".