by Thomas Emson
The phone rang again. He picked it up and said, “What?”
“Jake, Jake, It’s me, Fraser.”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Let me in, man, I’m downstairs. It’s a fucking nightmare out here. It’s like hell.”
* * *
Lithgow said, “You let her drink your blood?”
“Yes, Fraser, I did.”
“You’re mad,” said Lithgow, hands on his head, pacing the flat, “you’ll turn into – her, one of them.”
“I don’t know, I don’t think so. I think you need all your blood drained for that.”
“Oh, right, so you’re a fucking expert on vampires, now, are you?”
“I’d say I was pretty up to date, wouldn’t you?”
Lawton drank sweetened tea, trying to get his energy back up.
Lithgow told him what had happened in the club and what he’d seen in the streets. But Lawton felt too weak to do anything. He wanted to sleep, that’s all; sleep and wake up to a world that had righted itself.
Let others sort this one out, he thought.
Lithgow said, “You look really pale, man. Really sick. If you’re a vampire by tomorrow morning, I’m – I’m – ”
“You’re what, Fraser?”
“I’m running away.”
“Yes, I’m sure you will.”
Lithgow plonked himself down in the armchair. “This is mad, man. What’s going to happen? How are they going to kill them all? Every time they bite someone they – ”
“Drink their blood.”
“Yeah, whatever – but when they bite someone, that someone then becomes a vampire – just like the films, man. Oh, crazy, crazy.”
“And who’s to blame for all this?” said Lawton, scowling at Lithgow.
Lithgow looked at him and frowned.
“Who’s to blame?” said Lawton.
“Not me.”
“Yes, you.”
“I didn’t make those pills,” said Lithgow.
“You handed them out. Made money doing it.” Lawton coughed, and his head went spinning.
Lithgow said, “You told Murray I wasn’t to blame.”
Lawton sighed. “Yeah, well, that was me being soft in the head.”
Lithgow leaned forward. “What are we going to do, man?”
“What I’m going to do is sleep” – he got up, and his legs buckled – “and get my strength back. What you do, Fraser, is up to you.”
“I can’t go back out there, don’t send me back out there.”
Lawton’s shoulders sagged. “I won’t do that. Kip here. Sofa’s all right. Tomorrow will be better.”
Chapter 53
COUNTING THE COST.
Pimlico, London – 8.01 a.m., February 10, 2008
MURRAY tolled up the night’s carnage: Fifty-seven people dead, eighty injured, and at least twelve unaccounted for, according to the BBC website. She had the Sunday papers spread out on the kitchen table, but they’d yet to catch up with “Savage Saturday”, as MailOnline, the Daily Mail’s website, described it – newspaper deadlines were an archaic burden in the world of 24-hour news.
She sipped her coffee and stared at the laptop’s screen. She scrolled down, reading the story. There were quotes from witnesses describing terrifying attacks all over London. She read about “carnage on Blackfriars Bridge” as “vampires” attacked a bus. She clicked on a link to a story about London’s religious leaders calling for prayer. She read quotes from Jacqueline Burrows insisting that the police and the government were in control on the situation.
“Mum?” said the voice.
She looked up. “David. You-you startled me.”
“Sorry,” he said, standing in the kitchen door in his Arsenal pyjamas.
“Hello,” she said, and felt herself flush, not able to find any other words.
He nodded, stayed in the door.
“Come in, let me make you breakfast,” said Murray. She stood, going to the cupboard to get cereal.
He shuffled into the kitchen and said, “I-I don’t have breakfast.”
Murray said, “You don’t have breakfast?”
“No, Mum, I don’t.”
“Why, David?”
“Because. Because I don’t.”
She sat down opposite him, shut the laptop. She said, “Doesn’t Dad make you breakfast on school days?”
“He used to, but I don’t eat breakfast. I’m not hungry in the morning.”
“You’re up very early today. Why’s that?”
He played with his hands and said, “Couldn’t sleep.”
Murray touched his hair. “Are you all right?”
“Don’t know?”
“Tell me, David.”
He looked at her and his eyes were wet, and Murray felt a jolt of grief in her breast. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to weep.
David said, “It’s just crap, isn’t it.”
“Crap? What do you mean by that?”
“Our teacher died – Mr. Gless – ”
“That’s terrible,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”
“And everyone else, they’re dying too.”
“There have been a lot of deaths, but it’ll soon get back to normal.”
He said, “Kids at school say it’s, like, the end of the world. They say it’s – it’s vampires.”
Murray shuddered and said, “No – No, David, don’t – don’t listen,” and she held his hands. They were small and cold, and she squeezed them and closed her eyes.
“B-but everyone’s saying it, Mum. The papers, too. And you work for the papers,” he said.
“Papers, they only ask questions, David. They ask questions, that’s all.”
“And the internet, too – all my Facebook – ”
“Facebook?” she said. “You’re on Facebook?”
He frowned. “Yeah. All my mates are on Facebook.”
Murray felt herself grow cold. She said, “You’re – you’re too young, David, you should be eighteen.”
“I’m not a kid, I’m not too young,” he said, yanking his hands away from hers. “Michael’s on there – ”
“Michael’s too young – does your dad know?”
David shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You shouldn’t be on those pages, not yet.”
“Everyone else is,” he said.
“Well, I’m telling you – ”
“Why are you telling me anything?” he said, standing up. “You’re never here, I never see you for anything,” and he stormed out of the kitchen, Murray calling after him and feeling him being torn from her breast.
* * *
Lawton’s phone rang. He crawled out of bed and rifled through the clothes he’d cast off last night before he collapsed. His throat was dry and he felt weak. He found the phone in a shirt pocket and answered it.
“Hi, Jake, it’s Sassie,” she said.
“Hi, Sassie, you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. You?”
“First class,” he said.
Silence fell. And then he broke it:
“Sassie, what Crane said yesterday, that needs explaining.”
“All right. Although you don’t need to explain. I mean, you’re not answerable to me or anything.”
Lawton noticed he was naked, and slapped a cushion over his crotch – it didn’t feel right talking to her with his balls out.
Sassie said, “Did you hear what happened last night?”
He said he hadn’t, and she told him. “How many died?” said Lawton.
“TV says many dozens.”
“Many dozens.”
“U-huh. And the say people are missing. Some kids and women, a few old people, too.”
The bedroom door burst open and Lithgow stormed in. He flapped a piece of A4 at Lawton. Lawton scowled and waved him away.
“But this is important,” said Lithgow.
“Okay – could you hang on, Sassie?”
She said she could and Lawton
took the sheet from Lithgow. It was a printout of a BBC News page, a Manchester news item. It was dated six months ago.
“Sassie,” said Lawton, “Fraser’s just handed me a printout – ”
“I did it last night, switched on your computer,” said Lithgow, hopping from one foot to the other like an excited schoolboy.
Lawton nodded at him, then continued speaking to Sassie:
“It says that three antique vases were stolen from a flat in Manchester six months ago.”
She said, “Really?”
“Yeah, and there’s a picture of one of them. It’s our vase.”
“Really?”
“I found it,” said Lithgow. “I dug that out.”
Lawton mouthed “yes” at him, then went back to his conversation with Sassie, saying, “What are you doing today?”
She hummed. “Usually I go for Sunday lunch, you know; drink at lunchtime; stroll by the river; lazy days. How does that sound?”
* * *
“You’re not as useless as you look, Fraser,” said Lawton.
“I know. Amazing, isn’t it, man. I just saw the vase last night. In your cupboard.”
Lawton scowled at him, and Lithgow went red.
Lithgow said, “It’s okay, man, I was trying to find some mugs. You don’t have many mugs.”
“Just these two,” said Lawton, holding his own up and gesturing at the one Lithgow had.
“Yeah, but no green tea.”
Lawton shook his head and sipped his coffee. “Not in this house.”
“So, anyway, I saw the vase. Then I switched on your computer, and Googled stuff. Came up with that.” He pointed at the A4 sheet like it was treasure he’d discovered. “So did I do all right?”
“Good dog, Fraser. I’m impressed. But you do have a lot of making up to do.”
Lithgow frowned. “What d’you mean, man?”
“Those pills, mate. This is why we’re in this mess.”
Lithgow’s face stretched in sadness and his shoulders sagged. Lawton, for the first time, felt sorry for him. He told Lithgow not to worry:
“You didn’t kill them, did you. You just made them into vampires.”
“You think that’s what they are?” said Lithgow.
Lawton thought about it. He thought about Jenna feeding on his blood. He hadn’t told Sassie.
Lithgow said, “Hey, I’m glad you’re not one, anyway.”
“Told you,” he said, rubbing his neck.
“Looks like a love bite. With two little pinpricks inside it. Does it hurt?”
“Stings a bit. And I feel weak. Any idea how long it takes for blood to return to its normal levels?”
Lithgow shrugged. “Hey, can I come to Mancs with you? I can do the accent: All right, all right” – he strutted about like a Gallagher brother, imitating them – “I’m ’ard me, I’m ’ard. Come on, then, come on, la’.”
Lithgow stared at Lithgow’s pantomime and thought about going north. He’d rather spend the time with Sassie, explain to her about Basra. But he had to let Lithgow join the party – he’d done well, finding this stuff.
Lawton said, “As long as you sit in the back and don’t make any noise.”
Chapter 54
CHICKEN COOP.
SCREAMS echoed around the cavern.
Nadia Radu strutted down the stairs. She sneered at the women and teenagers in the cage.
They whined and cried and shrieked, they rocked back and forth and rattled the bars.
Ion jabbed a cattle prod into the cage. Sparks flew. The one that got singed screeched and stumbled away.
Nadia stood next to Ion and smelled the sweat and the pee wafting from the cage. She cringed and fanned her hand in front of her nose.
A dozen victims were rammed into the cage, dragged here the previous night by vampires out hunting. Their wrists were handcuffed, and when they shivered and rocked, their chains jangled. The miserable figures were blood-stained and sweat-stained, and dust coated their skins and their clothes were torn.
“Would you moan and beg if you were in their position, Ion?” she said.
“No, I’d be trying to think of a way to get out,” he said.
“Not pleading like this pathetic lot?”
“They’re kids, Nadia – kids and girls,” he said.
She glanced at Ion, and her eyes slid up and down his body. Her blood quickened, and the skin at her throat flushed. She stroked her choker, the material leathery. Ion leered at her. She’d taken him into her bed last night, and like always he proved to be her best lover.
She said, “Not feeling sympathy for them, are you?”
“Me? Sympathy? You know that I don’t have the capacity for such weak-minded rubbish, Nadia.”
She turned to face the prisoners, studying them. They cowered and cried. A crust of teenagers who a few hours earlier had swaggered through the streets now wept for their mothers. A young woman who looked like she was the bitch in her yard yelped in terror. A hen dressed in a veil with an L-plate stuck on her chest sobered up in rapid time.
“You’re pathetic,” Nadia said to them.
“Please let us go,” said the young woman. Her skin was dark and she was beautiful. The woman wore an orange mini-dress. Sweat poured down her face. Dirt streaked her arms. A heel had snapped off one of her silver shoes.
“And what happens if we don’t?” said Nadia.
“Please,” she said, and then some of the others joined in saying, “Please, please, please,” too.
And then the hen said, “What are you going to do to us? Is this all a joke? Did Karin put you up to this? Fucking bridesmaid, I’ll fucking kill her. I’m not fucking amused. I’m getting married next Saturday, and my fiancé’s got contacts. So if you don’t let me go, you’ll be in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
The hen stuttered and then said, “Just major fucking trouble.”
Nadia glanced at Ion, and nodded. Ion stepped forward and jabbed the cattle prod through the bars. Inside the cage, they recoiled and shrieked. He yanked open the door and stepped in, flashing the prod around to keep then at bay. He grabbed the hen by the hair. Her veil crumpled in his hand. She screeched as Ion dragged her out of the cage. As he stepped out of the door, the orange-dress woman and a youth rushed forward. Nadia slammed the door on them.
She pressed her face to the cage and she was nose to nose with Orange-dress, and Nadia saw the will in the woman’s eyes.
“Watch,” Nadia told Orange-dress.
She turned and strode over to the pit. A crossbar hung over the trench. Ion hauled the hen towards the hole in the ground. She kicked and screamed, and tried to bite him. The manacles around her wrists and ankles made it difficult, but she was fighting for her life. Ion punched her on the jaw, and she sagged in his arms. He laid her on the wooden floor. He belted a leather strap around the hen’s ankles.
A hook dangled from the leather strap. The hen moaned and started coming to. Ion hoisted her on his shoulder. Her skirt rode up her thighs and Nadia curled her lips at the hen’s puckered backside. Ion carried her to the pit and hooked her on the crossbar. She hung upside down, her veil fluttering above her head.
The hen came to and screamed and struggled. Ion picked up a pole and latched it into the belt around the hen’s ankles. He slid her across the crossbar so that she hung over the middle of the pit.
The others in the cage moaned and cried. Nadia glanced over her shoulder at them. A half-dozen vampires had circled the cage. The vampires mocked the prisoners. The vampires spat at them, and they clawed at the hands trying to rattle the bars.
Nadia turned her attention to the screeching hen.
Ion stared over at the cage and said, “All of you, watch this – watch your destiny,” and his voice echoed through the cavern.
He whipped a knife out of the scabbard fastened to his belt.
He sliced the blade across the hen’s throat.
Blood spouted from the wound. The prisoners saw a
nd their screams intensified.
The hen twitched. The blood spewed from her open throat, and splashed down into the dust that coated the pit’s floor. Her flowing veil turned scarlet.
The dust sizzled and cooked and sparks flecked from it, and in the sparks Nadia saw life.
* * *
Aaliyah gawped at the hen, who was swinging like a pig. The blood poured down into the pit.
Aaliyah sobbed, and her insides wrenched. She felt sick and wanted to puke. She was going to die here, in this fucking cave. She’d be sliced open like a pig. Who were these maniacs? Were these things spitting at her from outside the cage really vampires? She’d read stuff on the internet, and J.T. had warned her about them after those goths died in Soho. She thought about J.T. and what happened to him at the station. Was he a vampire, now? He got his throat ripped out, his blood spouting all over the place. Was he going to turn and come looking for her?
Adrenalin flushed her veins. And staring at the butchered bride-tobe, she thought, If I’m going to die, I’m going to die like a fucking warrior queen, not like some clucking hen.
The bride-to-be was called Teresa, and she was getting married next weekend – well, not now she wasn’t. Aaliyah had asked her name and then said, “We’ll be all right, girl,” when the hen cried about having to get back to Leeds tomorrow morning to pick up her dress. But it wasn’t all right, because seconds later the hen got her throat sliced by that dark-haired bitch.
Aaliyah’s gaze skimmed around their surroundings. The cavern was the size of a cathedral. Damp darkened the walls and moss grew out of the rock. The place smelled of decay and methane. Strip-lights illuminated the cave. A ladder crawled up one wall and led up to a manhole cover in the ceiling. Behind Aaliyah, stone stairs led up to a metal door.
The others brought in with her cried and screamed. They tried to struggle, but these weird things that killed J.T. and brought her here kept lunging and baring their fangs.
“They’re fucking vampires,” said a kid in a baseball cap. There was a bunch of kids, all in hoodies and caps, and they were crybabies, every fucking one.
Aaliyah said to them, “If we don’t put up a fight, we’re all going to die like that girl, okay. You want to die like her? Or you want to die with guts? A hoodie said, “No way. If we do what they tell us, they gonna let us go, innit?”