The Progeny

by Shelley Crowley

  “So they died on the job?” asked Dreadlocks. There was no empathy in his tone. He was just collecting facts. Alexander found himself starting to like his new companions.

  Nico’s expression was grave as he pressed his palms flat against the desk top to stabilise himself. “I’m afraid so.”

  “And the rest left because of this, most likely?” Dreadlocks dug deeper.

  Nico nodded. “The deaths shook us all up. But also morale was dropping fast as we kept coming up with negative results. They lost faith and abandoned the whole idea.” He locked his gaze with Dreadlocks, his grey eyes fixed and determined. “Those were my friends that were killed. Ripped apart. Feasted on.” He noticeably paled. “I needed to create the cure. The world needed me to create the cure. As everyone else packed up their things and left, I felt like I had just discovered my purpose. No more humans would have to die by the hands of vampires again. Thanks to me.”

  A stunned silence filled the room. As Nico had spoken, he had leaned forwards more and more as if the force of his words were pushing him. He looked around, locking eyes with each and every one of the Cured, before he settled back carefully in his chair.

  Alexander felt like he had stayed quiet for long enough. “So you’re really planning to wipe out an entire race?”

  Nico’s eyes flicked to him, his face an expressionless mask. “Wipe out sounds like I intend to kill them. But they are already dead. I am going to give them their lives back. Just like I have done with each one of you.”

  In the corner of his eyes, he saw Daisy smile and touch a grotty looking beaded bracelet on her wrist with her fingertips. At least you’ve made someone happy.

  “Your vampirism was a curse. It turned you into the walking dead. Now you have your humanity back. You have no need to hide in the shadows anymore. No need to feed off the blood of others like leeches. Can you honestly tell me that that doesn’t feel good?”

  “It feels great, Doctor Bergan. I can’t thank you enough!” said Daisy with a smile that filled her face. Ignoring her, Alexander checked out the responses of the rest of his party. Seb had his head down. Snowflake was glaring. Miss Scratchy was still going to town on her wrist which now looked red and sore. Dreadlocks sat with his arms folded, staring down at his bare feet with his lip slightly curled with distain.

  “I’m glad you think so,” Nico nodded to Daisy. Trust him to focus on the one positive response. What an arrogant little prick. Alexander sent Nico a look of pure scorn, and that’s coming from me.

  Chapter 24

  The harrowing screams and shouts of command are all he can hear. With boots caked in so much mud that his feet feel like dead weight and his body so battered and bruised, he cries at the thought of trying to stand. The trenches are no place for a man. The dead that they didn’t have enough time or space to bury are dumped in piles on the floor, half eaten by scurrying rats. The stench of death is heady and suffocating and all Alexander wants to do is close himself off from this bloody nightmare, wishing he is back home with his loving wife. But she is dead. In his heart, he knows that. Dread soaks into his bones. The walls of the trench begin to cave in on themselves, pressing in on him. The corpse at his feet that is missing half of its face groans and grabs his leg. In a panic, Alexander bashes the butt of his rifle into the dead man’s head, caving in his skull.

  “Daddy!”

  Alexander’s head shoots up at the fearful scream from above. It is coming from a young boy. It is a voice he instantly recognises with a certainty that feels abnormal. Jolting into action, he slings his rifle strap over his shoulder and climbs the unstable ladders up onto land.

  He almost falls right back into the trench at the sight of the boy standing just beyond the coils of barbed wire.

  “Daddy!” the boy cries again, waving his arms in the air.

  “Nathaniel?” Alexander whispers in disbelief. His heart crashes against his ribcage as he sprints across the marshy land, crushing bodies with his determined steps. Sweat pours from his brows, mixing in with the dirt that mars his face. It runs into his eyes and burns. Frantically wiping away the grime so that his vision is restored, he stops dead.

  The little boy, no older than five, is standing amidst a sea of bodies. And he is sinking. Sinking into the pit of the dead.

  “Daddy!” he screams, his tiny body shaking. He is wearing buttoned up pyjamas covered in blood and dirt. His short fair hair is plastered to his head with grime. “Save me, Daddy!”

  “I’m coming!” Alexander screams before vaulting the barbed wire coils. His trousers snag and he tears himself free. The wire slices down his now exposed thigh. Blood trickles down his dirty skin like red ribbon.

  His helmet clatters against his head as he runs. The muscles in his legs burn from exertion but he carries on relentlessly as he sees his son sinking further and further. The bodies are now up to his hips and the tear tracks down his little face are becoming more and more prominent.

  “Daddy!” He throws his hands up, grabbing the air. “Help me!”

  He is sinking faster. The dead bodies now claw at his shirt, dragging him under.

  “No!” shouts Alexander, warding them off. “Leave him! No!”

  “Daddy!” Only the boy’s head is visible now and Alexander is still twenty yards away. It seems like no matter how fast he runs, he isn’t getting any closer.

  A hand shoots up by the boy’s neck, twisted and showing bone. It grabs the little boy’s jaw and yanks him down so he is completely submerged.

  “NO!” Alexander cries out, shrill and desperate.

  Now he is at the pile of corpses. He sinks down on his hands and knees and starts to tear them apart, dragging them and pulling at them. He digs his way through, desperation and adrenaline pushing him on.

  But he can’t find the boy.

  Still, he digs and digs.

  “Nathaniel!” He cries, tears burning his face and sobs ripping through his throat. “Nathaniel!”

  Blood coats his arms up to his elbows as he continues to search.

  Then he spots something- something pearly white underneath the dirt and the dead. He yanks a body away and delves under. When he lifts his arms out of the hole, he is cradling a new born baby. It is the same little boy. His son. But only a few days old.

  The baby coos, his pale skin bright and gleaming like an angel. His blond hair is as soft as a duck’s feathers. Alexander smiles down at the naked babe in his arms, his vision blurring with tears of joy. The baby’s eyes are as blue as his own but the little dimples indenting his cheeks when he smiles are his mother’s.

  The wind picks up, blowing the hot stink of war fast in his direction. Alexander twists his body, shielding the baby from the gust but as he holds him close the baby’s skin starts to turn to ash. Panic shoots through every cell in Alexander’s body as he stares wide-eyed at his disintegrating son.

  “Nathaniel,” he gulps, cradling the baby’s head. His son’s eyes are huge like saucers as he stares up at his father, right before he is gone with the wind.

  “No!” cries out Alexander in anger and despair, his lips quivering so much it hurts. He curls his hands into fists. “Nathaniel!” His voice hoarse and harrowing now. “Nathaniel! Don’t leave me! No! I’m sorry!”

  Suddenly, hands grab his shoulders and shake him and he feels himself leaving...

  Gasping for breath, Alexander shot bolt up-right in bed and crashed straight into a hard body. Without even thinking, he wrapped his arms around the person before him and wailed, his fingers curling into the nape of his neck.

  “Alexander, it’s okay,” said a voice in a monotone whisper. “It’s okay.”

  “Seb,” Alexander mumbled, clutching onto his broad body and burying his face into his neck. “It was horrible.”

  “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

  Alexander’s heart was pounding so hard he thought it might explode in his chest. He was shaking uncontrollably, his mind frazzled. When his fear began to ebb away slowly and his breat
hing started coming out a little less erratic, he loosened his hold on Seb.

  His hands lingered on the small of his back before he drew away. Seb was sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed and his body twisted towards Alexander. He leaned away from him and inspected him with his huge eyes, his lips set in a grim line.

  “Why are you here?” Alexander asked, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

  “I heard you screaming,” said Seb, returning his hands to his lap. He was still wearing his assigned black t-shirt and sweatpants while Alexander lay under the strewn duvet in just a pair of boxer shorts.

  “I was that loud?” he asked.

  Seb shook his head. “I wasn’t asleep.”

  Alexander scoffed but then winced at the pain in his chest. “Trust me, you don’t want to.”

  “Who’s Nathaniel?”

  Panic sparked in Alexander’s eyes and Seb quickly gulped. “I’m sorry. That’s what you were screaming. You don’t need to tell me.”

  Alexander let out a trembling sigh. “Nathaniel was my son. He’s dead now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Alexander laughed and shook his head. “Don’t be. He was seventy-four.” His expression pinched. “I read his obituary. He was married, had two kids. A boy and a girl. He really made a life for himself.” His eyes flittered to the duvet. “Just one without me.” He smoothed his hands over the cover, watching it crease. “Seventy-four. He’d been alive for seventy-four fucking years and I never got the chance to hold him.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was Turned before I even knew he existed. I had been dying on the Front Line. I couldn’t go back. Not really.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “I know,” Alexander gulped, his voice hollow. “That’s my biggest regret. That he didn’t have a father. Elizabeth- my wife- she never re-married. Never moved on. Never loved again.” He sniffed, wiped away a falling tear, and looked up. “What about you?”

  Seb’s dark eyebrows rose. “What about me what? Do I have any regrets?””

  Alexander shrugged. “Anything you’d like to get off your chest? It seems me pouring my heart out to you is becoming quite a regular occurrence, it’s only fair that you tell me something about yourself.”

  Seb’s lips twitched and he looked down. “Okay. Erm… I don’t really have anything.”

  “Sure you do. Anyone in your life?” Alexander’s gut twisted. “Anyone you’re currently missing?”

  Seb shook his head. “There’s no one in my life. Not since my Maker died.”

  “Hey!” Alexander slapped Seb’s bicep, making him look up at him. “My Maker’s dead, too. See, we have something in common.”

  Seb’s eyebrow quirked up. “How did yours die?”

  Alexander shrugged. “I wasn’t there. I don’t know. Felt it though. Hurt like fuck. Like my insides were being pulled out through my nostrils. Yours?”

  “He died in the Rage. Another vampire ripped him apart to get into a sorority house.”

  Alexander’s eyes widened. “Yikes. Where were you when the Rage hit?”

  “I was in Brooklyn. Moved there from Romania after I was Turned back in 1962.”

  “Romania,” Alexander smiled, “I thought I could detect something under your American accent.”

  Seb nodded. “I was born there but after I was Turned, I couldn’t go back to my family. Back to my life. So my Maker took me to New York. The city that never sleeps so it wasn’t considered weird when you only came out at night.” His eyes suddenly widened vacantly, as if reaching back into his mind. “Bet the humans wished they’d stayed asleep when the Rage hit.”

  “Fuck yeah, I heard about that on the News.”

  Seb nodded grimly. “It was a bloodbath. I stayed underground and waited it out in the sewers. When I went back up, nearly sixty percent of the human population of New York were dead.” Clear tears started to brim his eyes, he fluttered his gaze to the window and they instantly dried. “After that I moved to England alone, stayed in the countryside where it was quiet.”

  “You’ve been alone ever since 2020?”

  Seb nodded. “Just kept my head down.”

  Alexander’s heart bled for him. He had the sudden intense urge to embrace him again, but he didn’t.

  “What do you think of this place?” Alexander quickly changed the subject.

  “It’s weird,” mumbled Seb, looking down at the duvet. “I don’t feel right.”

  “Humanity sucks.”

  “Possibly.”

  “I miss my sister,” Alexander rushed, needing to get it off his chest. Tears burned the backs of his eyes. “I didn’t tell her I loved her before I went. She probably thinks I’m dead.” He reached over and grabbed the small pad and pen Nico had given out to all of the Cured and looked down at his list of essentials. At dinner- where Alexander had managed to choke down a cheese burger and chips, only to feel bloated and uncomfortable afterwards- Nico had told them all to write down possessions on a pad that would make his ridiculously oversized house feel more like ‘home’. “I wrote down a phone,” he said, “but I’m guessing he won’t give me one. Snowflake was right, he’s just trying to buy our affection.”

  “Snowflake?” Seb asked.

  “The albino guy.”

  “His name’s Simon.”

  “Simon, Snowflake. Same difference.” Alexander looked down at his list. It wasn’t complete yet. “I just want to let her know I’m okay. Well, not okay. I’m fucking far from okay. But, y’know… here.” He laughed hollowly. “Look at us, sharing our pasts and our worries. We’re like two girls at a slumber party. I’ve always thought I’d make a pretty girl, what do you think?”

  Seb’s lips quirked up into a smile that he didn’t allow to fully show. “It’s nice to have someone to pine over.”

  Alexander’s heart felt like a physical ache in his chest. He missed not having a heartbeat. He missed being that little bit numb. Now he just felt exposed and over emotional all the time. “No, it’s not.” He shook his head. “Whoever said that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all was lying. It’s complete bullshit. It’s never a good thing to lose someone you care about.” His eyes flitted back to his bed companion and smiled at the thought that he seemed in no rush to leave. “Have you ever loved, Seb?”

  He huffed a laugh. “Now we really do sound like two girls at a slumber party.”

  “Awh, c’mon.” Alexander grabbed his cover and bunched it up in front of his chest so he could drop his chin on it and use it as a pillow. “Indulge me. I might let you braid my hair afterwards.”

  Seb sighed and scrubbed his hand through his short brown hair which had still been perfectly styled. Alexander wondered if he had attempted to sleep at all. He looked rough. “I had a neighbour, back in Romania, when I was human,” he finally said.

  Alexander grinned. “Go on.”

  Seb sent him a playful glare. “I was fourteen. She was nineteen. I knew there was no way we could ever be together. To her I was just the cute kid from next door. She was never going to see me in a romantic way. But I was convinced that I was in love with her. But as I grew up, I realised it was just a silly little crush. I was just a teenage boy lusting over a girl he could never have.” He shrugged. “And that was it, really. She moved out when she was twenty-three with her fella and I never saw her again.”

  “And there’s been no one since?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. And then I was Turned when I was twenty-six and my life was just filled with blood and- and death.” His brows drew together and his jaw clenched as his eyes filled with tears again. “My Maker wasn’t a nice man. He wasn’t a man at all. Just a monster. And- and he was my master and I was his student. Followed him like a dog on a lead.”

  “So, you’re glad he’s dead?”

  Seb nodded vigorously and with a deep, shaky inhale. His brewing tears vanished. “Wish I had had the guts to have done it myself.
”

  Alexander had been lucky with his Maker, Godfrey. He had taught him that immortality was a gift, a gift you could not use rashly because there was a price. When Turned, you gave up part of your soul and in that empty pit inside you lurked a monster. A monster that you fed with blood but also one that you needed to contain. Godfrey’s lessons were strong and powerful and he had never let Alexander off the hook. He had taught him to be a good vampire. To embrace his new life but not get too comfortable with it. He needed to remember to stay in control. And he always had. Whenever he had the sick desire to kill, he killed those who deserved it. Like the vampire hunters who had slaughtered his friends. And the Nest who had pissed him and his sister off for months.

  His death had left Alexander hollow inside and if it hadn’t been for Varsee, he would have been lost -wandering the world alone just like Seb had.

  “Anyway,” said Seb, cutting through the reflective silence. “I should go. Let you get back to sleep.” When Alexander felt his weight leave the bed, his heart pounded with fear and he flung his arm out, grabbing Seb’s wrist.

  Seb looked back at him curiously.

  Alexander’s eyes were wide and pleading in the grey darkness. “Please don’t leave,” he said, his voice wavered as his body trembled. “I’m not good at being alone.”

  Seb nodded and sat back down at the edge of the bed, his eyebrows drawn and serious. “Okay.”

  Alexander smiled thankfully and shuffled further under the duvet. “You can get under if you’d like,” he said. The completely genuine offer lacked Alexander’s usual rakish charm.

  Seb seemed unfazed as he stared at the curtains. “It’s okay. I’ll sit here.”

  “You don’t want to sleep?”

  He tensed, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “Maybe later.”

  Alexander felt a pang of empathy for him as he watched Seb’s eyes flicker as if lost in thought. From what little he had revealed about himself, Alexander was under the impression that his life hadn’t been easy. His immortal life, anyway. Was he happy about being human again? Or was he sensing the same lurid fear and intense sense of doom that he was?