The Blood of the Infected (Book 3): Twice Bitten, Twice Die

by Antony J. Stanton

  Sergeant Liam Wood silently lay on the blanket next to Charlotte Collins and tried not to disturb her, but the moment she felt him arrive she turned and looked into his eyes. She could see an immense tiredness there and something more, perhaps the effects of stress or possibly a subtle distance that had not been present until her recent admission about her vampyric liaisons. For once she felt a little nervous in his presence and tentatively reached out to touch his arm.

  “Hi. How are you doing?” She smiled pleadingly, hoping for a more positive response than those vague half smiles he had flashed at her earlier. He gently took her hand in his and she felt a small measure of relief.

  “I’m okay, just a little tired but I’m sure we all are.”

  “Yeah, you can say that again.”

  “I’m a little tired but I…”

  “Ha ha, very funny.” It was a lame attempt at humour but that was enough to reassure her that things were perhaps not too strained between them. Maybe things would be alright. Maybe she hadn’t forced too great a wedge between them.

  “Look, I wanted to tell you about the vampire coming to visit me but I guess I just…” she started, but he cut her off, placing a finger gently on her lips.

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  “Yes, yes I do,” she whispered urgently. She desperately wanted to explain, to make him understand. “I do actually. This is more than just about you and me. It’s about all of us. I wanted to tell you but it all just seemed too fantastical. I mean I was having enough trouble getting my own head around it, let alone trying to convince anyone else that I had just had a chat with a vampire. I mean it’s ridiculous, right?”

  “Yeah well pretty much everything seems far out at the moment. I guess ridiculous is the new reality.”

  “But I wanted to tell you of all people. I think there had just not really been an opportunity to talk properly, what with everything that’s been going on the last couple of days. I’ve had so many crazy thoughts going around and around in my head, I didn’t know where to start. And everyone was so preoccupied with the mission to the labs, I didn’t want to be a cause of distraction at such an important time.”

  He was thoughtful and seemed to be staring into the distance. She tried to read his expression. “What are you thinking?” she frowned.

  His attention switched back to her and she could tell he was finding it hard to put his thoughts into words.

  “I guess I’m just not sure, you know. Bannister seems to have been taken in by the female vampire, put under her spell, hypnotized or something. I just wonder whether this Sebastian did the same to you, and maybe that’s why you didn’t say anything?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No, not at all. I mean, I’m pretty sure he didn’t. In fact he said he didn’t want to do that.”

  “Why did he say that?”

  His voice was even but she could feel him hardening towards her, the barriers that she had worked at removing coming down once more. She started to feel guilty again and was glad that it was dark so that he could not see her blush. She wished she had not gone down this avenue.

  “He said something about he would rather people do things because they want to, rather than because he has charmed them.” Her cheeks were burning and she searched his eyes for a reaction. Wood nodded slowly and bit on his lower lip. She found him quite unreadable and it really frustrated her, not for the first time. She would have preferred any display of emotion to this cold, rational response.

  “Hmm, well that sounds as though he may have had some kind of interest in you then, don’t you think? Perhaps more than just the desire for human contact that you mentioned earlier.”

  “I, I really don’t know. I got the impression that he was lonely and missed his previous life before he was turned into a vampire. If he was interested in me then he didn’t actually say anything and certainly nothing happened. I mean nothing would have happened anyway, you know that, don’t you?”

  He hesitated, maddeningly, again looking into the distance, but then finally came back to her.

  “Yeah of course honey. Look, I do understand, more than you know. These are crazy times. Someone comes to speak to you when you are alone at night, telling you they are a vampire, and having ripped right through the load of infected only a couple of days before. That’s gotta be pretty intense, right? I don’t know how I would have reacted if that had been me, listening to all these stories about life way back when, and how it is to be a vampire. That must have been one surreal conversation and I’m not sure whether I’d have been too keen to tell anybody about that either. So listen, don’t worry any more about it, seriously.”

  She hardly took anything in after ‘honey’. She felt relieved and moved to tears. He had barely finished speaking before she kissed him, throwing an arm around his neck. He prized himself free from her grasp with a smirk.

  “And I’m sorry too.”

  “What have you got to be sorry for? What have you done wrong?”

  “Well I shouldn’t have been so frosty about it all. These are tough times. I’m sure you could have done with my support rather my suspicion. I guess I was just a little jealous, that’s all.”

  She realized that it was the first time he had actually spoken of any emotions towards her. Despite the horrors of the night and the past few days, for a brief moment she felt heartened and a burden shifted from her soul. In these days small uplifting episodes carried disproportionate weight.

  “Well okay, in that case I forgive you Sergeant Wood. Just don’t let it happen again.”

  “Well I won’t. But listen, on a serious note for a moment, was there anything else you can remember from your encounters with him that may be of some use to us? Anything at all?”

  Her brow furrowed as she returned to the present and reality. “I’ve been going over everything that he said and I can’t remember anything. I do believe that he was honest though. He did seem like he was genuinely decent, if that’s possible. I think.”

  Wood nodded sombrely. “Okay, well that’s good to hear. If that’s the truth then who knows, maybe he’ll be moved to help us further.”

  “I guess it’s possible. I’m not sure though why he would choose to help us in preference to his vampire clan, but maybe, yes.”

  With his face plunged into shadow she did not see him purse his lips or raise his eyebrow, as though to say, ‘Yes - I wonder why he’d help us too.’ Instead, all Wood said was, “We’ll see. Now let’s get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long and traumatic day so we need to be as rested as possible.”

  In the dim light from the restless candles she watched his dark brown eyes close and shortly after his breathing became deep and regular. Amazing, she thought, that he can sleep so easily at such at time as this, although she knew that he had seen some pretty nasty things and been in some fairly rough places in his life before. Maybe this was all relatively normal for him. Or possibly it was more a reflection on how stressed and tired he was – that the moment his eyes were closed he crashed through the surface of the conscious and was plunged into the blissfully forgetful, embracing caress of sleep. She pulled the blanket lightly around his shoulders and lay there watching him, vaguely content but ever with the niggling anxieties gnawing away at her.

  Flavia stood in the middle of the church feeling the walls close in on her as she turned around and around. Her breathing had returned to normal and the slight perspiration had dried upon her chest giving her a gentle, refreshing chill. She listened and tested the air for any subtle signs carried on the breeze and it was the scent that reached her first. The perfume on the woman was strong - too powerful for her own sensitive sense of smell to be able to appreciate it. She walked lightly to the altar and was sat upon it with her legs crossed when they entered. Farzin came towards her, slowly and deliberately, and holding her gaze all the while. She eased herself off the altar and went to him.

  “My love.”

  The expression on
his face was curious and for once she could not read him which bothered her. He glanced all around the church before he spoke.

  “You left us in quite a hurry, my love.” Again she thought she detected the sneer on the last two words.

  “After the human bloodshed I did not want to ruin the taste in my mouth with the odour of the tainted. I decided to leave you males to your sport. That is all.”

  He nodded but she could see a look in his eye that suggested he did not believe that that was indeed all. Flavia put these thoughts aside and focused on the vampire in front of her, hiding her emotions and presenting a facade.

  “And what do we do now? What do we do with her?” She gestured towards the woman still slung over Simeon’s shoulder.

  “Well possibly tomorrow we could make her into one of us.” He had a malicious glint in his eye and she could not tell whether he was being serious or just testing her. Ordinarily she might have reacted to this through jealousy or suspicion, but tonight she steeled herself and fixed her expression into a mask of placid composure.

  “But now we feast,” he continued.

  He signalled to Simeon who brought the unconscious woman forward and laid her unceremoniously on the altar. She moaned a little as her head hit the cold stone.

  Farzin turned and included the others in his malevolent grin. “But oh how apt. Not exactly the blood of Christ but certainly the blood that will be giving us renewed life this night.”

  Vida stirred. Her hand twitched and then she brushed at her face, as though swatting away imaginary flies. Her eyes slowly opened and landed upon Farzin and she drew in a gulp of air to scream. He quickly stepped forwards and placed a cold hand over her mouth, cutting the scream in half and fixing her with his glare. He opened his eyes wider and traced the line of her jaw as he aligned his heart beat and his breathing to hers. He tilted his head, still holding her gaze, never allowing it to wander and she gradually started to lie back down on the altar.

  Her eyes half closed. “Please, don’t kill me,” she whimpered.

  “Oh, but I am not going to kill you,” he smiled. “Far from it, you are going to live. With me. Forever.”

  “I… can’t,” Vida stammered, barely conscious and struggling to formulate words.

  “It is not so bad. Just think, when I have made you into one of us, into a truly magnificent vampire, you’ll never get ill. There is no cancer, no dementia, none of this sickness that has ravaged your species and led to its downfall. This really is the cure for humanity. This is what your kind needs. They need me.”

  “But… my husband…” Vida breathed.

  “Ah, yes - your husband. I am sure he will soon be coming to find you, but I am also sure you will have already forgotten all about him.”

  With that her eyes closed. Her arms fell to her sides and her breathing became shallow and regular.

  “Come, my friends,” Farzin said as he turned with a smile. He beckoned the two new vampires forwards. “Let us drink. But do not kill her; I have plans for this little one. Feast abstemiously.”

  He had accepted the mantle of authority seamlessly. Until now it had been assumed that Luca would one day become Clan Leader but that clan existed no longer and Flavia could see the shroud of confusion and disorientation that Luca struggled to hide from Farzin.

  Neither Ricardo nor Simeon looked at Flavia as they approached the lifeless body and Alec shot her a guarded look that made her feel like an outsider amongst her own clan. Luca was the only one who seemed at all empathic towards her. She watched as one by one they bent forwards over Vida and each made a small incision in a vein, small enough to be barely visible but large enough to allow a trickle of blood to seep out slowly. Even Simeon, despite his bulk and graceless movements, was delicate when it came to matters of the teeth. Their bodies shuddered as they imbibed, taking her life essence into themselves, but as there were so many of them, their feed was meagre and they were all left wanting.

  Flavia tried not to watch too closely as Farzin went last. The chill seeped deeper into her core and she shivered. Farzin stooped low over the woman and moved his hands over her body like a craftsman, almost touching but not quite, his delicate fingers contouring her curves as he admired her form. His eyes glinted and as his mouth opened he shot a furtive glance at Flavia. Then his sharp teeth punctured her soft skin and he drank her life-blood in. The elation he anticipated however was marred slightly by the anger taking root inside. He thought Flavia probably was telling the truth but he was not entirely sure. He had wondered at the reason for her swift departure. There was no sign of Sebastian now, but had he been here when she arrived? The resentment he felt however was not caused by the possibility of losing her devotion. That did not even occur to him as a possibility. It was more a sense of indignation at the audacity of Sebastian to dare to challenge him for her loyalty. His need for retribution was steadily growing.

  CHAPTER 3

  Captain Thomas Lewis had not slept much. The cramp in his legs was matched by the numbness in his buttocks from having been on the hard floor. As it started to grow light outside he quietly rose to his feet and weaved his way amongst the prostrate bodies, lying like corpses. Squadron Leader Anna Singleton did not stir as he left her side. She had claimed not to be very tired but had been asleep within moments of closing her eyes. Clearly she too was not immune to the stresses and strains of the last few days. As he reached the door he nodded to Leading Aircraftman Patrick Scovell who had taken the last watch.

  “How you doing?” he asked quietly.

  “Pretty good sir, thanks.”

  He patted Scovell on the shoulder and eased through the dining room door, one hand unconsciously poised over the Browning at his side. He let himself out of the building and felt the crunch of the frosty grass like tiny, fragile bones snapping beneath his feet. That cold, crisp time of morning brought back memories from his childhood of camping trips in France - so much reminiscing lately. Even now the smell of army tarpaulin on exercise still reminded him of those precious times. Whilst his class mates flew on exotic holidays to places that he had hardly ever heard of in those naive days, it did not occur to him to be jealous. He was content with his own ‘exotic’ holidays which seemed to be a constant adventure but were all his parents could afford. He was the eldest of four brothers. His family still lived in Dorset, or at least they had until recently. Like the rest of his troops he had heard nothing from any of them for some time now. He had no idea of their current condition; alive, dead, or whether they too had joined the marauding hosts of the sick in some intermittent state: not so much undead as unalive.

  He walked out to the trees and answered the call of nature whilst leaning against a sycamore. The grave of Flight Lieutenant Jonny Parsons lay several feet away with a few wilted flowers in a jar by the side. Lewis had always liked the sycamore trees on the station. He liked their knotted boughs, the colour of their leaves and the way the sun fell on them in the late afternoon. Since he had been at RAF Headley Court he had often sat relaxing and reading by the base of one of them. Now it served as his favourite latrine, and as he leant against it he started to weep. Although Group Captain Denny was still theoretically the Station Commander, he was clearly not acting as an effective leader. The troops would no longer listen to his orders and in truth he no longer tried to issue any. The pressure of keeping them all together now bore down heavily upon Captain Lewis’s shoulders and although for the sake of everyone he tried not to let it show, he could understand why Denny had snapped under the strain. He only hoped he could hold himself together long enough to see them all through this latest imminent encounter, an encounter which promised to test them more than anything so far. And if he did not survive then who would replace him in command? Who then would receive this poisoned chalice? Squadron Leader Singleton was the highest ranking officer but she was no soldier and he doubted if she would want to be in charge, let alone whether the troops would follow her; this was, after all, a time of combat. Flight Lieutenant Andrew Walkde
n, officer in charge of supply, logistics and engineering, had already demonstrated his ineptitude for command in the field. The aeromedical student Flying Officer Oliver Frost was too young and had not been in the RAF long, which meant that the sergeants would be left to decide who would lead. Lewis suspected it would come down to his senior sergeant, Garrick Straddling of the RAF Regiment, or Sergeant Liam Wood who had only been at the station as a recuperating patient. He knew whom he favoured to make the better leader. He also knew that Straddling would not accept such a decision easily and it could well cause a split, something they could ill afford when they needed total group cohesion. All the more reason for him to stay alive, he thought. The tears rolled down his cheeks soundlessly and he started to tremble. If it had not been for the tree he would have fallen to his knees. He had told Denny that he did still believe in God but sometimes it was hard to countenance what was happening with an almighty, all-caring deity. When would it all end?

  There was a noise from the building and he turned to see Leading Aircraftman Scovell standing anxiously with Flight Lieutenant Walkden and Sergeant Harper Hutchison, all looking at him with concern. He wiped his face and waved.

  As he approached them Scovell spoke up, seeming uncertain for once, his normally oblivious countenance punctured momentarily. “Sorry sir, we didn’t mean to disturb your morning constitution. It’s just that I was worried about you, coming outside all by yourself. With those vampires about I thought we should make sure you were okay.”

  Lewis could have wept again. Just when he was feeling the strain of leadership and isolation, he was reminded that although theoretically he was indeed in charge, in reality they were all looking out for each other. He laughed and punched Scovell affectionately on the arm with such enthusiasm that it made the three soldiers exchange disconcerted glances.