<><><>
Anthony approached the hulking rectangular structure of the storage facility, thankful that an obliging dull blanket of gray cloud covering the sky made an early visit possible. Good fortune is smiling down upon us. Striding along at a speed only a notch down from a bull at a gate, with Doctor Connor gone, Anthony adopted the guise of a vampire with a lot on his plate. With the sudden increase in my workload, my haste will be understandable.
Rain clung to his damp brown hair, and the tight wet cotton of his soaked shirt brought Connor’s restrains to mind. Faking relaxation must have been almost impossible.
He remained baffled as to what had happened, and how Doctor Connor ended up in such a dangerous situation. His nerves were raw and the questions were never ending. But explanations will come later. For now, let’s get Connor out of there. It has been twenty hours since transportation. I just hope I’m not too late.
Anthony adjusted his tweed jacket, and doing up buttons that had never been used before, he concealed the bulk of the infusion bag which was vacuum sealed inside two plastic pouches to contain the odor. Anthony took a deep breath and hammered on the steel door. Waiting for the sigh of the airlock being released before pushing it open, he stepped into the cloying dank atmosphere of the facility.
The chief warden approached when Anthony flicked the switch on his flashlight. The pale yellow beam flitted across unfamiliar features, and Anthony’s jaw snapped shut.
Julian had told Anthony not to concern himself about Warden James who had served here for as many years as Anthony could remember. He would recognize Connor in an instant, and would certainly notice if his charge went missing. Now I know why.
“I was expecting Warden James?” said Anthony lightly, dropping his light down to spill over the ground and restore shadow to his features. Ignoring James’ absence felt wrong, Anthony decided.
The new warden grew by an inch as he stood to attention. “Warden James was given a promotion. I am now the chief warden, Warden Palmer.”
“Umm, I’m Doctor Anthony.” He also had been promoted, with Connor gone. “I’m here to pronounce deaths. I trust you know the drill?” Anthony pretended to be thinking. “I believe you have a new admission. He may be ready for stage-two.” He sought the gray circle of the face turned in his direction. “He was denied blood rations prior to trial. It looks like I will be fast-tracking him.”
The warden nodded and whisking efficiently on his heel, he disappeared into the darkness. “This way,” his coarse whisper floated back over his shoulder.
Anthony followed the rustle of fabric and kept the thick shadow of Warden Palmer in his sights.
The warden opened the door to the new arrivals chamber, stepped aside and then melted away as he moved back along the corridor.
Anthony listened until he was satisfied he was alone before entering the room. He walked along the row of coffins, flicking his gaze over each expressionless face until he finally met the alert gaze of Connor.
Anthony nodded minutely and Connor smiled.
He carefully withdrew the infusion bag from inside his shirt, and, using a scalpel to slice through the padding of plastic layers, he made a hole through which to connect a catheter tube. He taped the layers of plastic back into place to contain the smell and settled the infusion bag into Connor’s grasp. Working quietly and efficiently, he flicked open the locks on the metal restraints across Connor’s body, before inserting the catheter needle into Connor’s carotid artery and taping it in place.
Looking into Connor’s face, he mimed a squeezing action with his hands and mouthed silently, “Apply constant pressure.” Indicating with a tap on his watch that he would return, he nodded abruptly, and left.
Anthony moved silently back along the corridor and sought out the warden. “It is as I expected, he’s ready for stage-two.”
As the warden made a move to follow the instruction and transfer the offender, Anthony stalled him. “I need to know how many stage-threes are scheduled for skull crushing.” He frowned in thought. “Can you report back to me on that? I have others to examine in the stage-two chamber. I will transport the prisoner.”
Anthony watched the warden leave. Like all storage facility attendants, he had a very relaxed attitude towards his comatose charges, after all, it was more baby-sitting than guarding. He would certainly have no reason to distrust a doctor making rounds.
Making a quick detour, Anthony collected a trolley before he retraced his steps back to Connor. He effortlessly dragged Connor’s coffin onto the bed of the trolley and wheeled it at pace along the corridor. He shouldered open the door to the chamber where empty coffins shells were stored. Anthony’s torch ranged briefly around the room, and the angular stainless steel containers glinted like teeth in a blackened smile. All clear. So far, so good.
“I’ll meet you at the main entrance after rounds,” Anthony whispered, and he left Connor to continue transfusing the blood. Connor’s disappearance would remain undetected. Neither warden of stages one or two would expect him to be in their charge. He had effectively slipped between the cracks, indefinitely.
Connor’s hands worked steadily on compressing the bag and maintaining the pressure. Blood shunted up into his neck and he flexed his stiffened muscles tentatively. Feeling the tendons grating, he was glad to have something else to think about. For endless hours he had been mapping the purple bruises on Rebekah’s body and trying to keep calm. As the lubrication of blood swelled his tissue and his brain sharpened to crystal clarity, his confidence grew. It seems to be working out.
Rolling up to a sitting position, Connor slid out the catheter and massaged the hole in his neck. Satisfied that his vampire speed was fully restored, it took fractions of a second for him to regain his usual confident forceful stride. And, in barely longer than that, he was waiting in the darkened entrance chamber for the weak light of Anthony’s flashlight to signal that rounds were finished, and they were getting out of there.
Anthony flicked off the beam in good time, and Connor melted into the darkest corner as he waited. He heard Anthony give the warden his final instruction and dismiss him. Anthony’s lone figure approached and Connor fell into step, matching his stride as they both whisked along the exit corridor. Within seconds they were outside, accelerating forward, but keeping their silence. Vampires had acute hearing even when apparently comatose. Why take chances? Instead, Connor’s hand closed on Anthony’s shoulder, conveying a wealth of emotion.
Connor was a fugitive. Anthony, however, needed to return to the hospital and was already late, so, explanations would have to wait. They moved silently through the suburbs of London, and, staying south of the River Thames where vampire clusters were rare, they arrived at the old railway station called Clapham Junction.
Julian said to get a place, and this one is perfect. The large terminal building was like a colossal umbrella below which numerous train tracks converged. Each platform had waiting rooms and ticket offices, and then there were the seized up, rusted trains themselves. Plenty of places to hide.
Connor could easily follow the train tracks into many surrounding districts, and, more than that, they provided an express escape route out if trouble came knocking.
The night air was damp, and Connor walked out onto the tracks, balancing on decaying, wooden sleepers which creaked under his weight. He watched Anthony disappear into the gloom, and became still as a stone statue, taking stock. His bulky frame was a blend of jet-black and charcoal, with the moonlight melting his gray eyes to pewter. His bone structure invited moon beams and bent them to his will, dressing his face with intensity. He was a formidable figure which no sensible vampire would consider taking on.
Anthony would return after his shift at the hospital. In the meantime, Connor had begged one last favor of him; to seek out Julian and tell him where Connor had set up residence.
<><><>
Three hours later, Julian and Connor were standing side by side on platform number twelve, congratulating each
other on Connor still being alive.
Connor finally opened the topic that had been bothering him since he had set off through the streets after leaving Storage Facility Eight. His lubricated movement was of an engine on high grade oil, and that gave him cause for concern. He asked Julian the question, already knowing the answer.
“The transfusion. It was human blood?”
Julian had the grace to look uncomfortable as he nodded.
A growl rumbled in Connor’s throat as he thought of Rebekah’s bruised and battered body, finally allowing her face to fill his mind. “Please tell me you didn’t?”
“What choice did I have?” asked Julian.
“You could have asked me. It was my choice to make, not yours,” Connor replied.
Connor expected an argument and instead he surprised a grin, and in a surge of anger his fist flew out.
Julian’s hand closed firmly around it, stopping its forward propulsion three inches from his jaw.
Frozen in the moment of confrontation, his words grating through ground teeth, Connor said, “You could have asked Leizle.”
Annoyance flickered for a moment, before Julian said in a reasonable tone, “I’ll let you have that one. But there was not time to collect Leizle’s blood.” He shrugged eloquently. “Rebekah was here in London. Removing Sebastian’s venom from her blood remained the fastest solution, and if she had not given it, I doubt you would be here for us to be arguing about it.”
Connor’s expression relaxed. He withdrew his fist, and a resigned smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
As the tension drained away, Julian‘s grin became full blown. “What can I say? I am just glad that you are here to throw that punch. I would do it again.”
“I guess you’re right, I don’t have to like it, though.” Connor raised a brow. “I’ll feel better once I have checked on Rebekah.”
Julian’s expression said, ‘don’t you trust me?’
Connor glanced at his watch. “How much longer is Anthony going to be?”
“Not much longer, but, before he gets here, we need to talk about Sebastian,” said Julian. “He’s still unconscious.”
It was Connor’s turn to feel satisfaction. “Good,” he said.
“You know this is not over. I hate to state the obvious, but now Serge thinks you’re out of the way, he will already be planning his next move.”
“You’re right, of course. He’ll wait for Sebastian to surface, and then he’ll know where to look for the eco-shelter. What about you?” Connor asked, “does he suspect your involvement?”
“No, I think not. My condemnation of you at the trial, and the hefty sentence I delivered, has allayed his suspicions.” Julian looked at Connor. “In any case, he only understands allegiance as a means to an end. I have nothing to gain in aligning myself with you, and it won’t occur to him that two vampires could actually be friends.”
“So, your position on the Council is secure?”
“For now, yes,” he said.
Connor suddenly turned his head and took a deep breath. “Ah, Anthony’s here.”
He was some distance away, but his approach was fast. He’s obviously keen to get answers.
Anthony arrived as a silent apparition, stirring a flurry of autumn leaves. He sought out the sentinel forms of Connor and Julian, and stepped forward to greet them.
“Doctor Connor, Principal Julian.” He pushed windswept hair from narrowed eyes. “You look well. That is good to see.”
I need to see Rebekah but Anthony deserves an explanation. Connor had involved him twice now in their subterfuge. The first time, he had no idea he helped save Leizle. It was a measure of Anthony’s faith in Connor that he swallowed the plausible lie without question. I’ll leave that lie intact. He’s better kept in the dark for his own protection. But this time there’s no getting away from it, he has to know.
“I am sure you have questions, Anthony, but first, thank you for your help.” His fingers stroked over the puncture wound in his neck where the catheter had pierced his skin.
“I was glad to, you know that. But now, I need to know why you were sentenced to death.” His attention moved to Julian. “And from where you took the human blood. When the theft is discovered and a storm breaks over my head, what am I to tell the council?”
“There will be no storm.” Connor’s eyes glittered. “Julian took the blood from a human girl not from the farm.”
Anthony’s jaw dropped. “A human girl? But how?”
“She is my human girl, and the reason I’m serving a sentence in Storage Facility Eight,” Connor said, his low tone rumbling.
As Anthony’s shocked eyes searched his face, Connor waited to see which way things would go. As the silence grew, he rocked on the balls of his feet. Throwing a punch is more Anthony’s style.
Anthony’s considerable bulk appeared unhappy being confined by cloth. Every move set his muscles rippling in protest. His mortal frame was thirty years old. He had been the kid in glasses, and being bullied at school had transformed him into a young adult who pumped iron at the gym. His strength, however, had not saved him when he had been drawn into an alley in London’s Soho district to break up a fight. He had been a vampire for sixty years.
In vampire terms, he’s a juvenile and I can take him. He knew Anthony had no empathy for humans, but he had forged a relationship with Connor. He’s not an emotional wasteland, but will it be enough?
Forty-two seconds later, Anthony had not moved.
That’s a good sign. Connor relaxed a little and decided to push him. “I’m a fugitive. I won’t ask you to do any more than you have already, but I am asking for your silence.”
The frown on his face eased. “I can do that.”
Connor shot Julian a warning glance. He knew Julian wanted more, and with Connor in hiding it would make life easier. But it will have to wait.
“My silence, you can count on.” Anthony shot a look at Julian, and, as though he had read his mind, he added, “Nothing more.”
Connor shook Anthony’s outstretched hand firmly. “Thank you.”
Half an hour later, Connor left Julian talking with Anthony, and filling in the gaps. We are not out of the woods yet. But we have Anthony on our side, for now. I just need to keep an eye on him.
<><><>
The Kent countryside was eerily silent as Connor raced across cool green grass, dyed black by the moonlight. He was used to the silence of creatures shrinking in his presence. Birds swallowed their song. The warm-blooded rabbit, fox and their furry cousins, froze, their wide-eyed stare hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he passed them by. He saw them, of course, but nothing would entice him to bite through their fur or feathers when his Rebekah was waiting.
Connor raced into the mouth of the tunnels, hurtling towards her. It had been almost three days, and he longed to see her face.
He registered Leizle’s presence in the dining cavern as he passed by, and with a sigh, he wheeled around and retraced his path.
Appearing back in the doorway, as Connor dug his hand into his pocket, he caught her eye. “Leizle.” He opened his palm to reveal a key threaded onto a bronze-colored ribbon. “Julian said to give you this. His front door is always unlocked, and this is a key to the small sitting room at the back of the house.” Connor smiled slowly. “He says if you will dice with death, at least you can hide at his place, even if he’s not there. You are to lock yourself in.”
A smile lit her features. “So, he thinks of me?”
“Occasionally.” Connor grinned.
As he whisked around, blurring Leizle’s vision, she blurted urgently, “Annabelle is gone. Oscar and Greg took her across country to join the other eco-group.”
“I’m surprised. I know Seth and Greg were comrades, but still-?” Connor’s brows climbed to a peak of enquiry.
“They were certainly surprised to have visitors.” Leizle’s expression was comforting. “They blindfolded her. She won’t know her way back.”
&nbs
p; “I am just glad that Rebekah will never see her again,” Connor said. Neither will I, which is more important to Annabelle’s life expectancy. He remained on the spot long enough to say the words, and then he was gone.
“Later,” she called out, laughing, as the breeze of his passing flapped her hair about her face. “I guess you’re in a hurry.”
Connor was happy to dismiss Annabelle from his mind. I have other loose ends to consider. The next few days would be critical and he knew, despite Julian’s assurances, Serge would cause problems at every turn. And then there was Anthony. He will want to feel that he is doing the right thing. He knew he could convince him to help them. But to do that, I have to be there to answer his questions, when they start coming, as they surely will.
Traveling the tunnels down into the bowels of the human eco-shelter, reality struck Connor. To protect the most important thing in his world, he would have to leave her again. He buried the guilt and concentrated on making the most of the time he did have. For now, I am here and it is enough.
Guilt was the price of loving, something Connor had never thought possible. But when Rebekah’s heart thundered in her chest, holding her close, he could feel it resonating through him and imagine he was alive again. He rounded the last bend, flexing his diaphragm to fill himself with her scent. He smiled as he took in his fix, and locked it inside.
Connor slowed to a walk, and entered Rebekah’s cavern, his eyes focusing on the bed hidden in the darkest corner. However, for him, refracted light danced in his vision as she stirred in her sleep. The covers dragged over her skin, and the glittered discharge of static electricity made him falter. If he felt pain in the mortal sense, a migraine would have thundered through his brain.
Sitting down on the side of the bed, he was content to watch her sleep, convinced he could feel the blood in his veins pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Her blood. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes opened and focused on his face, and he felt as though the sun warmed his skin.
SURVIVAL (Fire & Ice Book 2) Page 15