The Adrift Trilogy: The Black River

by K. R. Griffiths

  Herb felt his own stomach do a backflip.

  The doctor collapsed to her knees, and fell forward onto what was left of her stomach, and then the other patients and staff started to scream.

  Herb gaped, and watched it unfolding in a terrifying sort of slow motion; his brain mulling over the twisted images that reached it, and telling him in no uncertain terms that he should be running or screaming or both. For a long moment, all he could do was stare.

  The sound of breaking glass.

  The light above the doctor’s head winking out of existence as a fire extinguisher flew into the corridor and crashed into it, plunging the far end of the top floor into semi-darkness.

  An impression of a large shape hurtling from left to right, crossing the hallway in a flash and disappearing into one of the rooms.

  Another light cut out.

  Another.

  It was moving toward him, room by room, killing as it went.

  At last, Herb tore himself away and fled back up the steps, pulling the broken door shut behind him and praying that the creature might overlook it.

  If not…

  There weren’t many potential victims on the top floor of the hospital. Nothing much to slow the vampire down. If it was coming, it would be on the roof in a minute. Maybe less.

  No time.

  He caught Conny’s eye as he burst back onto the roof.

  She shook her head grimly, opening up a well of despair in Herb’s gut. He didn’t even need to ask; it was obvious from Conny’s expression that they had found no other way down. Even if they could all clamber down the drainpipe and carry Dan somehow, their progress would be too slow. Too loud. As soon as the vampire reached the roof, their presence on the drainpipe would be unmissable.

  He flicked his gaze to Dan, still unconscious on his back in the middle of the roof.

  I can’t leave him behind.

  I won’t.

  Somewhere behind Conny, at the far end of the building, Herb heard a loud crack, followed by a surprised scream which ended with a sound like a gunshot, and he realised the flimsy option of fleeing had been removed altogether. At the edge of the roof, he saw Lawrence hauling himself back up over the wall, flushing and petrified. Apparently he, too, had decided that the drainpipe was the best option, and it hadn’t been able to take both his and Scott’s weight.

  Lawrence gasped as he pulled himself upright, and peered behind him, leaning out over the street far below. When he turned away from the sheer drop, Lawrence’s eyes were wide, his expression sickly, and Herb knew what the cleric had seen splattered on the ground, five storeys down. The drainpipe wasn’t the best option anymore. It never had been.

  It was hopeless.

  All they could do was hide, like frightened children whimpering beneath their blankets, waiting for the monster to come for them.

  “Get behind the helicopter,” Herb hissed, “out of sight. If it comes for us, don’t look at it. Jump if you have to. At least you’ll get a quick death.”

  His eyes landed on Logan. The kid looked at his mother with fearful, disbelieving eyes, but Conny kept her gaze firmly on Herb. She nodded, her own eyes clear and focused, and Herb knew the message had got through. Conny’s boy might be dying, but not at the hands of a monster. Not today. She would do what was necessary.

  Will I?

  Herb ran to the chopper, reaching it just after Lawrence, and hunkered down behind the ruined vehicle as best he could, pulling Conny and Logan down alongside him. Conny began to call for Remy.

  Herb clamped a hand over her mouth as his eye caught movement beyond the broken door.

  Remy charged from one side of the roof to the other in a frenzy; running to the edge and peering over it, desperate to jump. Finally, he howled mournfully, and settled down on his belly in plain sight, not far from Dan. The dog was too terrified to think, Herb realised. It had given up all hope of survival, and opted to simply wait for the end. Maybe it was hoping for mercy, or it believed that if it offered no threat, the vampire might not bother to attack.

  Herb shifted his attention to Dan Bellamy. Comatose in the middle of the roof. Maybe the vampire would assume he was already dead.

  Unlikely.

  Lying on his back in the cold evening air, Herb clearly saw Dan’s breath pluming; his chest rising and falling. The vampire would see it, too. Dan would die without ever waking up, and his death would be the stark result of the latest in a series of Herb’s bad decisions. Bellamy was important. Far too important to be left in the care of someone like Herbert Rennick.

  Herb squeezed his eyes shut, feeling despair wash through him.

  I led him into this. I led them all here.

  To the place where we die.

  33

  The vampire crept out onto the roof slowly, swivelling its terrible red eyes until it spotted Dan lying on his back.

  Herb watched it through the debris of the crashed helicopter. He wanted to look away, to block out the terrible sight of the abomination stalking toward the unconscious man, but he was transfixed; the fear knotting his stomach and deadening his muscles like a powerful narcotic. Almost impossible to resist.

  The vampire paused, staring nonchalantly at Remy. Judging by how disinterested the creature seemed, and how still Remy remained under its gaze, Herb figured the dog must have finally passed out in sheer terror.

  He risked a glance at the vampire from the corner of his eye, and saw its head swivel toward Dan. His fingers tightened around the grip of the gun, and he wondered how many bullets he had left. He hadn’t thought to check since crashing on the roof minutes earlier. It was all happening too fast. No time to think. For all he knew, the gun might even be empty already.

  Maybe I fired the last bullet at a vending machine.

  An idiot, just like Dad always said.

  If he did have ammunition, Herb thought he would get one shot, if he was lucky. If he could somehow aim the weapon without attracting the creature’s attention, it would have to be an instant kill. The head? Herb had no idea where the creature’s heart might be located—if it possessed such a thing. A perfect headshot was surely the only option, but Herb wasn’t sure even that would be enough, given how hard their skin was, and how slowly they seemed to bleed.

  In any case, Herb was a decent shot, but he didn’t think he was that good. An image flashed in front of his eyes: lurching out from cover and trying to line up a headshot, only to hear the click of an empty weapon.

  Knowing that it would be the last thing he ever heard.

  He wanted to scream in frustration.

  The vampire hadn’t noticed the small group cowering behind the crashed helicopter yet—or it knew they were there, but didn’t care. Herb began to lift his gun, but it felt so terribly heavy in his hands, and aiming it would mean looking directly at the horror approaching Dan’s position. If the creature swung its eyes toward him, Herb knew that his mind would be lost in an instant. He would probably wind up executing the others himself.

  Alongside Herb, Lawrence whimpered. It was a plaintive noise; an animal noise, and Herb knew exactly what it meant. The cleric had reached his breaking point.

  Before Herb could reach out a hand to silence him, Lawrence broke from cover with a yelp and bolted toward the opposite side of the roof.

  He’s going for the river, he thought, and, though he was certain the cleric would not make it, Herb felt a rush of adrenaline powering through his veins, almost like watching some era-defining sprinter trying to break a world record. He wanted to yell and cheer Lawrence on, but settled for clenching a fist until his nails began to dig into the flesh of his palm.

  The cleric was fast.

  He rocketed along the edge of the roof, covering half the distance before the vampire even had time to react; building up speed for what Herb knew would have to be the jump of the man’s life.

  Lawrence reached the edge of the roof and hurled himself forward into the night air—

  And let out a sickening cry as the vampire
hurtled after him, closing the gap between them in an instant and snatching him right out of the sky.

  It smashed the cleric back onto the roof, and Herb heard something snapping. Lawrence’s back, perhaps. The young man let out a bloodcurdling scream, howling pathetically for his mother, and the vampire buried its face deep in his gut, sending a spurt of blood shooting up into the air. It pulled back with something meaty clamped between its jaws.

  Lawrence was still screaming, and continued to do so for a lifetime as the vampire ate him alive.

  Behind the helicopter, Herb was paralysed by the sight. He prayed that the others would stay quiet, but with each passing second he knew that the dreadful noise of Lawrence’s slow death would be lighting up their minds like fireworks. The others, he was sure, felt the same impulse as him: to dash for the door leading into the hospital while the vampire was distracted.

  Herb finally persuaded his arm to move, and he rested a hand on Conny’s shoulder, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

  The door was temptation.

  The door was death.

  Maybe, Herb thought, as the cleric finally stopped screaming, the distraction that Lawrence had provided would persuade the vampire that there was nobody else on the roof.

  Except Dan.

  The creature tossed Lawrence’s ripped remains aside, apparently bored now that the cleric had stopped convulsing, and made its way back toward Dan. It crawled directly over the unconscious man on all-fours, staring down at him with something like curiosity on its fearsome face. Thick blood dripped from its maw, spilling over Dan; running across his cheek like tears.

  And it stopped.

  Began to back away.

  Herb’s brow creased, and he felt Conny grip his arm tightly. He flashed a glance at her, and saw the confusion and terror wracking his own mind reflected on her face. Alongside her, Logan looked very sick, like he might pass out at any moment.

  Herb aimed for a look which might reassure them, but he could tell from their expressions that he missed the mark by a distance.

  Out on the roof, the vampire retreated a few steps, moving away from Dan. It stood upright, its hideous gaze still fixed on him.

  And, as Herb watched in mute astonishment, Dan opened his eyes and rose unsteadily to his feet, staring directly at the creature, just as he had back in the mansion’s gore-drenched kitchen.

  Except this time, Herb thought dimly, he has no weapon. No way to fight.

  He watched in horror as the vampire began to lift its sinewy arms, flexing out fingers like blades.

  Dan took a step forward.

  Toward the creature.

  His eyes never leaving it.

  And Herb’s mouth dropped open as the vampire drove those wicked talons deep into the side of its ownneck, and tore out its throat, pulling away a strip of flesh and tossing it aside. The monster’s feverish red eyes were wide with something that Herb thought might—incredibly; impossibly—be fear, as it drove the talons into its body once more. Deeper, this time; twisting and gouging; ripping its life away in messy chunks.

  Somewhere in Herb’s mind, beyond the layers of fear and revulsion, there was revelation. Dan Bellamy wasn’t just able to resist the psychic onslaught of the vampires; he wasn’t just immune to their particular type of poison. It was far more than that.

  He can do what they do.

  Dan fell to his knees, coughing violently.

  The vampire fell more slowly, its neck in ruins, eyes wide and blinking stupidly. Thick, black blood oozed from the enormous hole it had torn in itself, and when it hit the roof with a thud, it continued to scrape away feebly at itself, pulling away wet pieces of its life almost absentmindedly.

  Weakening with each grisly furrow it carved into its body.

  It took almost a full minute for it to finally die. Herb didn’t think he managed to breathe for the entire time.

  When the vampire’s chest rose and fell for the last time, Herb exploded into motion, running to Dan’s side, his mind trying to frame a question—any question—and coming up way short.

  Blood leaked from Dan’s eyes like he was crying, and when he coughed again, he spat out a large mouthful of the red stuff. He looked ill, Herb thought. Really ill, like the people that he had seen on news footage, suffering the effects of some terrible illness or poison. Dan swayed, his eyes rolling in their sockets. Blood vessels had burst in each.

  He looked like he was going to die.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  Herb jumped. He was so focused on Dan that he hadn’t even noticed the others approaching him. He glanced up to see Conny staring at him in confusion.

  “He’s not normal,” Herb replied absently, remembering Dan’s own answer to that same question.

  Dan coughed again. More blood on the wet rooftop.

  “Fuck you, Herb,” he whispered weakly.

  Herb grinned broadly.

  “He’s important…”

  *

  He couldn’t remember waking. All he knew was that when the lights in his mind flicked back on abruptly, he was standing upright, and he was outside somewhere. Cold rain. Biting wind.

  And a vampire standing in front of him, trying to push itself into his mind.

  Before Dan could even understand what was happening, instinct had taken over: fear at the attempted intrusion and rage hot enough to melt steel, and he pushed back.

  It felt as he imagined it might feel to drive his thumbs through a person’s eyeballs, burying them to the knuckles in the wetness.

  The creature barely resisted at all.

  When he took the vampire’s mind, Dan felt an intangible pop in his skull, and all of a sudden he was the monster. Looking at himself. Taking a couple of steps backwards; tearing out flesh that felt like it belonged to him.

  Adrift on the terrible black river.

  Staring up at himself as he fell; feeling his hideous body dying as black blood spilled slowly.

  Staring down at himself.

  Up at himself.

  I’m dying.

  It’s dying.

  What am I?

  Lost in shrieking madness.

  Until, after a howling torment which lasted seconds and lifetimes, the presence in his head was gone. He was on his knees, and the world was a dark, spinning blur. It took several full rotations for him to remember his name.

  Dan.

  Dan Bellamy.

  Dan stared down at the monster in front of him, coughing up blood and trying not to scream at the savage pain that arced through his skull as the roaring river in his mind retreated.

  He almost laughed when he heard a sound which, in hindsight, he should have expected to hear.

  Herbert Rennick’s voice.

  *

  “…and he knows it.”

  Herb turned to face Dan, beaming proudly.

  “Don’t you? You believe you’re special now, right? You see why I have to keep you safe?”

  Dan coughed and wiped at his mouth, staring without emotion at the blood that stained his hand.

  “You’re doing a great job,” he said weakly. “Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.”

  Herb laughed, and Dan couldn’t help but warm to him a little. It was as if Herb had no ego, or he simply recognised his flaws and accepted them for what they were. He had the self-confidence to let a jibe like that wash right off him. Dan felt a stab of envy.

  “Hey, you’re still alive, right?” Herb said with a grin.

  “Barely.”

  Dan glanced around Herb’s companions. Somewhere along the way, he had lost several clerics and gained a policewoman, a dog and a teenage boy with a surly expression. It looked like the Rennick family cult was a thing of the past.

  “What do you remember?” Herb asked.

  Dan tried to piece his memories together.

  “The mansion. The pile of bodies. Screaming—”

  “Uh huh. There was a vampire inside.”

  Dan’s eyed fogged up.

 
; “The kitchen,” he said softly. “Yeah, I remember. Did I…kill it?”

  “Almost. You made it hesitate. Put a blade in its face.” He pointed at Dan’s belly. “Took a blow yourself.”

  Dan lifted his sweater and saw a thick bandage wrapped tightly around his abdomen.

  “You have some stitches under there,” Herb said. “Temporary. Better try and avoid ripping them out, if you can. The doc—”

  Herb paused, his eyes suddenly foggy and distant, like he was looking at some terrible memory.

  “The doctor said your injuries aren’t life threatening, but I’d say she wasn’t taking into account the possibility that you’d start bleeding from every orifice. Can you walk?”

  Herb reached out a hand, and Dan hauled himself shakily up to his feet. He nodded.

  “I can walk. But if I have to run, I’m not sure it will end well. Listen, Herb, while I was…with the vampire…I, uh—”

  Herb grimaced, lifting a hand to stop Dan as gunfire sounded in the distance.

  Followed by shrieking.

  “We can’t stay here,” Herb said. “We have to move, now.” He switched his gaze to the policewoman. “You’re welcome to come with us, Conny. My father’s apartment is close.”

  “How close?”

  It was the first time the policewoman—Conny—had spoken since Dan’s world stopped spinning. She had been studying him carefully; warily.

  Just like the dog at her feet.

  “A few hundred yards.”

  “I don’t suppose it happens to be a fortress?”

  “Not exactly. But it will be a hell of a lot safer than the streets.”

  Herb pointed up into the night sky.

  “And it’s got a hell of a view.”

  34

  Herb led the others down the stairs with Conny at his side, and Remy walking a yard ahead. The dog could sense the presence of vampires—Conny had been very clear about that—and Herb decided he’d be a fool not to listen. As far as he was aware, nothing in the texts had indicated that dogs—or any other animals—had any extrasensory perception when it came to vampires, but that didn’t surprise him. More and more, the texts were looking like millennia-old propaganda. Of course the vampires wouldn’t publicize their weaknesses.