Vampyrrhic

by Simon Clark

  She saw it flow past her from right to left, carrying clumps of pink foam that floated on the surface.

  She and Maximilian pressed themselves back against the wall to avoid being drenched by the crimson rainfall. Even so, drops of blood speckled the toes of her boots.

  Now she knew what lay above. It must be the slaughterhouse, she thought; she looked again at the light filtering through the drains and now she saw it had the harder brilliance of electric lighting.

  She thought: We must be just below the killing floor; they’re slaughtering animals up there.

  Blood would be gurgling around the boots of the slaughtermen before pouring thickly away into the drains.

  Again she shouted for help. Although by now she knew that her voice must not be filtering through the grates to the outside world; or if it was, people who heard it didn’t know where the distant cries were coming from. She imagined them looking round, curious about where the shouts originated. Then, when they saw nothing amiss, shrugging their shoulders and walking away along the pavements.

  The sheer frustration of not being able to get anyone to hear was almost enough to make her weep.

  She looked back along the tunnel they’d just traversed. Through the red spray of falling blood, she saw a cluster of white shapes come bobbing towards her; she glimpsed the deep-set eyes, the wide mouths with their dark lips and gleam of incredibly white teeth that were as sharp as a panther’s.

  ‘Oh, Christ,’ she whispered, a heavy weight settling on her heart. ‘Oh, my Christ. They’ve found us.’

  2

  In the basement Electra had switched on all the lights, then shone the torch to the far end where the steel door was set.

  ‘Dear God,’ she whispered.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked David startled.

  ‘Look.’ She nodded in the direction of the steel door. ‘They’ve somehow managed to open it.’

  ‘Christ, they might be down here already. Jack, can you see anything?’

  As he pulled the hammer from his belt, Black’s fierce eyes swept up and down the basement. ‘I see nothing.’ Nevertheless, he moved along the basement, ugly head swinging left and right like a bulldog looking for a rat. He checked every niche and cupboard where one of the creatures might be hiding.

  ‘Still nothing?’ called David.

  ‘Nothing. They won’t come out yet: it’s still daylight.’

  ‘Yeah, but there’s precious little light comes down here, though,’ Electra murmured in a low voice. Then, louder, she called, ‘All clear?’ as Black walked slowly back, head still swinging from right to left, looking under racks of shelving.

  ‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘Like I said, they’re waiting for sunset.’

  David looked at the gaping doorway. ‘That must be where they took Bernice.’ For a moment he wondered about seizing the torch and going in search of her.

  Fat lot of good that would do, he told himself bitterly. The vampires would have opened her up and sucked out her blood hours ago. She would be one of them now. Pale-skinned, deep-set eyes, veins forming a purple lace design across throat and arms.

  ‘Close it up,’ Electra said sharply. ‘Close it up, before they realize we’re down here.’

  David said quickly, ‘Jack, push the door shut. I’ll get the padlocks…wait…damn; someone’s sawn through the hasps. They’re useless.’

  ‘Here,’ said Black, tipping up a box that contained an assortment of bolts and hefty timber nails. ‘Shove these through the loops. They’ll hold the door until we get more padlocks.’

  Black then heaved the massive steel door shut with a clang.

  When the steel loops of the door overlapped the steel loops welded to the metal door frame David wedged through what bolts and nails would fit. Only when he’d finished did he sigh with relief. ‘That should do it for the time being.’ He wiped the rust stains off onto the legs of his jeans.

  ‘Who do you think cut the padlocks?’ Electra asked.

  ‘My guess is that it was one of the vampires’ new recruits. They had access to the basement through the trapdoor to the courtyard.’ He looked back at the doorway to the tunnel. Erupting into his head flared the image of the door bursting open and the vampires pouring through in a noxious flood of white heads, set with those dark staring eyes. Their jaws would crack open, revealing rows of glittering teeth that would snap down on the three humans’ throats. He thought: Once they’ve torn open our bodies, they would lap at the bleeding wounds, like cats lapping from a bowl of milk. He fought the image back down. He could allow no more distractions. It was time to get back to the job in hand.

  He took the storeroom key from his pocket, slotted it into the keyhole, turned it.

  ‘OK,’ he said in low voice. ‘Here goes.’

  3

  At the same time as David Leppington was unlocking the storeroom in the basement of the Station Hotel, Bernice had frozen up tight with fear. She watched as the vampires swarmed into the tunnel.

  The blood still fell in a waterfall. Rich and red, it cascaded down into the channel, frothing, splashing, steaming. The humidity soared, forming a pink mist that engulfed the tunnel, reducing visibility to a few paces.

  They’re going to attack us, she thought, unable to take her eyes from the bobbing white heads coming through the tunnel. Any second their eyes will lock onto us. And once they’ve seen us they’ll come running this way.

  Gripping Maximilian’s hand, she shrank back against the wall until the brick pressed hard against her spine, as though if only she could press hard enough she could slip into the cracks between the bricks and hide there, safe and sound, until the monsters had gone.

  They don’t want us,’ Maximilian whispered. ‘Look. They’re thirsty.’

  The vampires continued to surge into this section of tunnel. Only they were taking no notice of Bernice or Maximilian. They were thirstily drinking the blood of slaughtered animals as it gushed down through the drains from above. Some of the vampires knelt on all fours, lapping furiously at the blood as it flowed along the stone channel. Their black tongues darted into the red liquid. Every so often a congealing lump of grue would float by, then they would ravenously scoop it up into their jaws and chomp, their eyes closing in bliss.

  They look like animals drinking at a waterhole in Africa, she told herself. Animals that were brutally thirsty, drinking so fast they coughed and gipped. Yet more of the vampires walked beneath the bloody shower, soaking themselves in the gory liquid. They held up their hands to it, turned up their faces to it, revelled in it, as the purest gore splashed down onto their heads and shoulders and arms. They opened their mouths wide in a hideously abnormal yawn to catch the precious drops of the life-giving rain of blood.

  ‘Come on,’ she whispered to Maximilian. ‘Let’s get out of here before it stops.’

  Quickly, stealthily, they crept along the tunnel, taking care to keep their backs pressed against the wall to avoid the bloody waterfall. Even so a film of atomized blood settled on their faces and lips.

  Bernice wiped the back of her gloved hand across her lips.

  She grimaced. She could taste blood; a blend of salt and metallic flavours.

  A few seconds later they reached the entrance to another tunnel.

  Before she followed Maximilian into its gloomy throat, she glanced back at the vampires as they gorged themselves on the blood of the beasts. The blood absorbed their attention. Nothing else mattered to them. They coughed, spluttered, hawked, as they tried to swallow more than the bore of their throats could accommodate. Their bald white heads were smeared with blood; what tattered clothes they wore were soaked in it. And all the time their deep-set eyes fixed burningly on the blood stream as if it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

  To them, it probably is, she thought. This daily deluge of blood was nothing less than their life blood. They’d wither away without it. She started to walk into the next tunnel. But then she paused, looked back at them again, staring hard at the feeding
creatures.

  An idea occurred to her with such a dazzling suddenness that her skin tingled from her scalp to her fingertips. She was still staring, deep in thought, when she felt Maximilian tug her hand to hurry her up.

  At last she allowed herself to be led away by the hand, away from the tunnel of blood, but now she was thinking hard.

  4

  David recoiled from the brilliance of the halogen lamps in the storeroom. Squinting against the brightness, one hand raised level with his eyebrows to shield his eyes, he stepped into the room. The brick walls were a vivid orange in the vicious brilliance of the lights.

  He paused, allowing his eyes to get used to the light. ‘Did you leave the lamps on all the time?’ he whispered back to Electra.

  ‘Yes. She only became active when we switched them off.’

  ‘Then hopefully she’s still inactive now,’ he murmured as he stepped through the doorway into the storeroom. ‘Damn.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Electra alarmed.

  ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘She can’t have, the door was locked all the time.’

  David, shielding his eyes, looked at the worktop. There, decades ago, kitchen staff must have butchered game, gutted fish, and carved joints from the carcasses of sheep and cows.

  Now it was empty.

  The blonde girl that he’d seen stretched out there like a corpse had vanished.

  He moved into the room, still dazzled by the brilliant wash of white light from the halogen lamps.

  Suddenly he paused and looked into the corner where the raw brick walls met.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘She’s here. She must have tried to hide from the light.’

  The creature that had been pretty, blonde-haired and blue-eyed Dianne Moberry had tried to worm her — its — way under the stone shelf to find some comfort in the cool shadow beneath.

  Christ, anything to escape this pitiless light, David thought, as his own head began to ache from the brilliance. Who could blame the poor wretch?

  Bending at the waist, he looked down at the naked figure. It appeared unconscious. As he bent further, hand outstretched, ready to give the bare foot an exploratory prod, Black moved past him.

  ‘We can’t pussyfoot around any longer,’ Black grunted brusquely. ‘We haven’t got time.’

  With that he grabbed the creature by its feet and dragged the body across the concrete floor. It was naked, lying face down, one cheek resting against the concrete.

  David winced at the thought of what it would feel like to be dragged naked across such an abrasive surface.

  ‘Gently,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to do this as humanely as possible.’

  Black grunted back, his face like stone. ‘Five hours until sunset. Being humane’s a luxury we can’t afford…or do you want to administer a fucking anaesthetic first?’

  David glanced at Electra. She swallowed. Her eyes were fixed on the face of the girl whose features were as relaxed as those of someone asleep.

  Black picked her up in his long arms. Her blonde head lolled down over one arm, the hair swinging as he hefted her back onto the stone slab.

  Her bare body made a slapping sound as he dropped her down onto it. He straightened the head, then lifted up an arm that had dropped to swing down from the side of the slab. With no sign of tenderness he pushed the arm across her breast.

  ‘There you go, Doc. Do your stuff.’

  David swallowed. The girl looked like a corpse lying on a mortuary slab. Just get it into your head she is dead, he told himself firmly. She’s dead, really a corpse. Nothing but a conglomeration of lifeless flesh, bone and internal organs. This is just a clinical dissection — nothing more.

  Nothing more.

  He wiped his lips — they were dry and hot. His heartbeat had increased, sweat had begun to creep out onto his neck.

  Shit. Come on, David. Get this over and done with.

  ‘OK,’ he said, briskly snapping on a latex surgical glove. ‘Everyone wearing their gloves? Good. Don’t forget your aprons. This is going to get very wet, very messy. Electra, start by laying out the towels on the floor. Make sure they’re at least three deep at this end near the head. Jack, bring me the gaffer tape, we’ll bind her legs together; after that we’re going to tape her arms to her torso.’

  ‘Gotcha, Doc.’ He went out into the basement where they’d left the tools for this grisly little job.

  Electra lightly touched David’s forearm. ‘Do you have to tie her up?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you think she will move? She looks dead.’

  ‘I think we’re boldly going where no man’s gone before,’ he said with a grim ghost of a smile. ‘I reckon we need to take as many precautions as possible, don’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘Christ, I hope she doesn’t wake up and start screaming.’ She spoke with feeling.

  ‘And Christ knows, I hope so, too,’ David murmured as he began to arrange the arms.

  They worked well. David, helped by Black, taped the vampire’s legs together. Then they folded her hands across her pale breasts with their scab nipples. While Black held her in a sitting position, one massive fist gripping her by the hair on the top of the head, David taped around the torso until the creature, as far as the neck anyway, looked like the makings of an Egyptian mummy. There the silver gaffer tape gleamed brightly beneath the halogen lamps.

  So far, David hadn’t noticed so much as a twitch or murmur from the creature. Perhaps if it is placed under a light that is bright enough it will render the creature so deeply unconscious it does appear to be dead, he thought.

  A moment later, he cut the tape and put the spool by the creature’s feet.

  ‘Right. Bring in the tray and the bucket,’ he told them. ‘Let’s get this over and done with.’

  Electra brought the tray and held it out to him, as if she was offering a plate of sandwiches so he could help himself. The line of knives and hacksaws neatly laid out on white towels gleamed beneath the light. The brass studs in the wooden handles shone like golden stars.

  He chose a small paring knife first, with a blade that was as sharp as a scalpel.

  ‘Right.’ He looked up at them. ‘Here goes. Jack, hold the head for me please.’

  Black did as he was told. In fact, he did it expertly and David couldn’t help but wonder if he had done something like this before.

  First, Black stood at the end of the stone slab. With one huge tattooed hand he gripped the vampire’s hair and held the head firmly downwards. After that, he cupped his other hand under the chin and pulled the head back so the throat was raised.

  David looked down in a terrible fascination at that long bare throat. Jack Black’s muscular pull stretched the neck while forcing the throat upward so it formed a smooth mound of naked skin, webbed faintly by fine veins. David swallowed.

  A few hours ago men would have gladly kissed that living throat and thrilled to its smoothness and the scented warmth it would have exuded while the still-alive Dianne Moberry giggled and curled her long soft hair around her fingers.

  ‘David?’ He looked up at Electra’s gentle prompt. Her blue eyes locked onto his while she gave a reassuring nod. ‘We’re doing the right thing, David. Think of it as releasing her from suffering.’

  He rested the blade of the knife against that naked throat.

  Electra is right, he told himself. This is a disease. A disease that’s going to rot humanity like a filthy great necrotic cancer; he must cut it out.

  Taking a deep breath to steady the shudders jolting through his stomach, he made the first incision.

  The skin opened up under the blade like a pair of moist pink lips. He sawed at the soft tissue, quickly opening up the lips of the wound wider, until it looked as if a second mouth had appeared beneath the chin. A mouth with lips curling back into a snarl. Then he reached the gristly white tissue of the windpipe. He switched knives for a heavier carving knife. He cut.

  Then the creature screamed. A great
full-blooded ear-jarring scream. The sound beat back from the bricks; it was loud and terrible and full of rage and pain and disbelief.

  ‘David! Keep cutting!’ Electra shouted above the screams. ‘Don’t stop now!’

  The creature’s eyelids slid back to expose the eyeballs. The eyes themselves were swollen and shining: they squinted shockingly from the sockets, staring up into David’s own eyes.

  ‘No…not this; oh, not like this…kiss me, kiss me, my love.’ This hissing voice was seductive, but those seductive, sexily sibilant words were punctuated by great braying screams as if two spirits inside the creature waged war for control of her voice.

  ‘Shut up,’ Black snarled and pulled harder with the hand he’d cupped beneath her chin. So great was the force now that it raised her chest up from the slab, her back arched like a bow.

  David sliced into the tough tissue of the trachea.

  The screams came again, piercing his head, spiking his ears until he had to grit his teeth.

  The body bucked on the slab. The movements, restricted by the binding of tape, were limbless and maggot-like; but the hips still lifted impossibly high as the monster arched its back. Electra threw herself fully onto the girl-beast, struggling to hold down the body with the weight of her own. Electra’s face was set with determination, her lips pressed tight together, her eyes glaring with concentration and her hair flying this way and that as she rode the bucking creature.

  ‘Come on, damn you,’ David hissed to himself. Cut it through. You’ve done it before. Cut it through. Imagine it’s a tracheotomy, imagine you’re saving the poor wretch’s life.

  Gritting his teeth, he bore down as he sawed with the blade.

  The screams stopped and the hissing voice came back as sexily as he’d ever heard in his life before: ‘Love me…kiss me. Oh, I want you to hold me. I want — Oh!’