The Blood of the Infected (Book 2): Once Bitten, Twice Live

by Stanton, Antony J.

  “Come.” He led them all to a cafe where a number of other people were sitting and eating. It was unclear who was in charge but Jason moved around with the confidence and authority of one used to being unchallenged in his place of work. He arranged some refreshments for them all and sat with them briefly.

  “What’s going on Jason?” Julia asked.

  He gestured all around them. “Some of these people work here but most don’t. Most are family like you. I guess everybody had the same idea as I did – to get their loved ones and bring them somewhere safe, away from…” he faltered, “…away from whatever’s going on out there.”

  “What is going on daddy?”

  The adults had virtually forgotten the children and Isabelle’s question reminded them sharply.

  Jason was about to say something, an easy and glib lie in order to placate her, but there had been enough lies already. “I don’t know honey,” he said softly, and it was the truth.

  “So now what?” George asked.

  “Now we stay in here,” Jason sighed. “We have food enough for everyone for several days. There are basic sleeping facilities, as you’ve already seen. The labs are relatively secure although a team is being put together to go around the outside and tighten things up a bit. If the situation lasts more than a few days then we’ll probably need to send some people out to get more supplies from local supermarkets.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we wait and see. That’s all I can say, I’m afraid. And in the meantime I have got to get back to work.”

  “Of course you do,” Julia said as she put a hand on his arm. Jason flinched and sharply withdrew. “How is it?” she pointed.

  “It’s nothing,” he snapped at her. Then more softly, he apologized. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing really. It’s only a small wound, nothing to worry about.”

  “But…” she raised her eyebrows. “But your mother…”

  His face fell and he glanced quickly at the children who sat quietly. He shrugged and his expression communicated everything he needed to say. There was a short, but undisputable list of facts. He had been bitten. His mother had been using Mnemoloss. She had turned into one of these maniacs. Quite possibly his fate was already sealed, they just did not know enough about it yet. In the meantime he had far more important things to deal with than his own personal wellbeing. He had to try and unravel the destruction he had wrought and he did not have time for personal grief.

  A small man with a large moustache who wore a stained, white lab coat came into the canteen and waved at Jason. Jason raised a hand in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry,” he said to Julia. “I have to go.”

  “Of course you do. Go, we’ll be fine.”

  He stood up but paused for a moment, surveying his small family group with an expression of wretched sadness. He bent and placed a kiss on the head of each of his children and then left without saying anything further.

  Over the next few hours and days George sought out those involved with enhancing the security of the complex and gave his assistance which, given his military background, was gratefully received. Doors and windows were sealed. Access into the buildings was restricted. Three lorries were moved to block the road that entered the complex through the barriers by the guard room, so that nobody could even get into the car park without permission. Guards were set to patrol outside and a vague chain of command was established within.

  Julia tried to keep the children entertained and they spent much of their time ensconced in their small room, taking turns at sleeping on the bed or on cushions on the floor. They tried not to disturb Jason at work too much and he popped in to see them periodically. Every time he looked more tired and more haggard. He was mostly either with Bennett or Dr Rhind, or in his office furiously tapping on his laptop. It seemed to Julia that the stress was getting to him. Conversations with him were increasingly frayed and his temper was becoming uncharacteristically short. He had even started to snap at the children, something that he had never done before.

  Julia was sitting on the bed playing with Rory and Isabelle when Jason stuck his head through the door. The bags under his eyes were pronounced and it looked like he had not slept for some time as his eyes were noticeably bloodshot. He smiled, an expression that had been absent from his face for quite a while, and in his disheveled state it made him look vaguely unhinged.

  “Hi, how are you all doing?” he asked as though it was just a normal day, and the question caught Julia off guard.

  “Err, yeah, okay I guess, all things considered. You? How’s it going? You look exhausted.”

  “Ah, I’m okay,” he smiled again, entered the room and sat on the bed beside Rory.

  “Are you making any progress?” Julia asked but he did not seem to notice so she repeated herself. He jolted around to look at her with a startled expression on his face as though he had genuinely not realized she was there.

  “Huh? Oh yes, making progress, making progress,” his voice mimicked her tone. “Anyway,” he continued, “gotta go, gotta make some more progress,” and he suddenly sprang from the bed and rushed from the room, leaving a troubled vacuum in his wake.

  When George returned from patrolling the grounds Julia left him with the children and went looking for her husband. A disturbing worry twisted her stomach. She found Jason in his office slumped over his desk with his head on his arms. With an odd feeling of timidity she knocked but he did not move. She entered the room and coughed, but when that had no reaction either she touched him gently on the hand. Like a jack-in-a-box he sprang up and grabbed her wrist, making her jump.

  “Ow! You’re hurting me,” she yelped.

  He glared at her for a second and she did not recognize her husband. He had never regarded her with such sneering vehemence, but slowly congnisance returned to his eyes and he released his grip. She took a step back rubbing her wrist as he turned away.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Must have been having a bad dream,” but the apology was half-hearted and he seemed to be lost in thought.

  “Are you okay?” Her fear was growing. “You don’t seem to be yourself at the moment.”

  There was a fleeting smile on his face, a reminder of the man he had been until so recently. Then like a wisp of smoke it was gone. “Yes,” he rounded on her. “I’ve just got a lot to do, that’s all. Look, I have to go and see Dr Rhind, was there anything else?” but he did not wait for a reply and was gone before she could speak.

  George and Julia divided their time between keeping the children occupied and trying to get any information from the outside world. There were no broadcasts any more on the television but there were still occasional updates on the radio. The information tended to be repeated on a loop but was relatively upbeat, telling people not to panic and that things would return to normal soon. A state of emergency and martial law had been declared. People were to remain in their houses, not to go outside under any circumstances and not to allow anyone to enter their homes unless they were officials with relevant identification. The army had been deployed and a strict curfew was being enforced. Anyone who was found on the streets was being detained in police or army custody until their mental and physical state could be ascertained. Each broadcast ended with the time and date, but on the last few occasions the broadcast was clearly an old one as the time had not been updated. This was really very unnerving and they became reluctant to listen to any more.

  Jason’s visits to his family became ever more fleeting and sporadic as he frantically worked on reversing the drug and repairing the international carnage he had caused. Each time Julia saw him she was unsure what to expect. At times he was elated and seemed confident with the progress they were making, at others brooding, short-tempered and verbally aggressive. He was not sleeping. His face was increasingly gaunt and his eyes increasingly flighty. Julia’s fear continued to bother her and eventually, after a prolonged period of absence, she and George both went in search of him. He was not in his office so they went to fi
nd Bennett amongst the lab rats. He reported that he had not seen Jason in the last couple of hours either. Bennett too looked tired beyond belief, a perfect representation of a defeated man, but he lacked the air of instability that seemed to have adopted Jason. As they left he watched them go with a sad expression, wretched and resigned and truly empathic. Jason had long been his colleague; and his friend.

  Jason was not to be found in the cafe so they returned to the room they now called home. The door was ajar and they could hear voices chattering away from within. Julia’s pace quickened. She hurried through the open doorway to find Jason sitting on the bed with Isabelle. Rory had retreated to the far side of the room and sat sullenly on the chair.

  “Oh!” Julia exclaimed. “You’re here. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  “Where else would I be?” He looked surprised, as if for him to be with them was the most natural thing in the world. His hands fidgeted as he spoke and Julia noticed that his fingernails had been chewed right back. He clutched his laptop tightly to his chest as though someone might try to steal it.

  George placed a hand surreptitiously on Julia’s shoulder and motioned that she should follow him, before leading her outside the room so they could talk in private. She pushed the door gently closed as they left.

  Isabelle was delighted to have the attention of her father at last and was trying to engage him in a game but his focus kept on wandering and his hands returned to the laptop.

  “Daddy!” she admonished him, grabbing him by the wrist and trying to get his interest. “Come on daddy, play with me please.”

  His eyes flickered back to her and fixed upon hers with an intensity that had been missing the last couple of days. The bandage on his arm was grubby and the blood from the bite mark had started to show through but he had not bothered to change it or even to have it looked at. As she reached again for him he suddenly grabbed her with force, causing her to cry out.

  “Ouch, daddy, you’re hurting me.”

  He ignored her but leant forwards to whisper harshly. “This laptop, do you see it?” She did not answer immediately so he repeated the question whilst shaking her. “Do you see it?”

  “Yes daddy but you’re hurting me.”

  “This laptop is the key. This is the most important thing now. This is the solution, the salvation. This is all there is. There’s not much time left. Do you understand?”

  Again she did not reply immediately as his grip on her arm increased, so he leaned even closer and shouted at her. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes daddy.” Her eyes were wide and for the first time in her young, innocent life she was scared of her own father.

  “Repeat what I have just said,” he rasped at her sharply.

  “This laptop is the most important thing now,” Isabelle blurted out, the fear and pain in her arm making her cry.

  “Never let it out of your sight,” he continued balling at her, shaking her with every word. “Never let it go, do you understand?”

  His angry tirade was halted by his wife. She had rushed back into the room and slapped him hard across the cheek. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screamed at him. “What’s happened to you? This is your daughter and you’re scaring her.”

  As though roused from an unpleasant dream Jason jolted and sprang up from the bed, the marks from Julia’s fingers clearly visible on his cheek, as were the marks from his own hand on the arm of his daughter. He looked around the room, at George standing back and looking wary, Rory shrinking away from him on the chair, Julia standing before him, defiant and furious and lastly at Isabelle, sobbing quietly on the bed, rubbing her arm and looking up at him with confusion and fear in equal measure. Tears started to flow down his own cheeks as he backed towards the open doorway.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry. This is all my fault,” he said before he turned and stumbled out of the room.

  George followed him as he rushed down a passageway. He finally caught up with his brother and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Speak to me bro,” George said. “What the hell’s going on? Tell me, I can help.”

  “No you can’t,” Jason replied turning on him vehemently. “It’s too late for me now. There’s nothing anyone can do to help.”

  “What are you talking about?” George spluttered.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Jason continued, ranting and excitable. “What happens to me is totally unimportant any more. It’s what we do for everybody else that matters now.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “Listen to me!” Suddenly Jason gripped his shoulders and stared hard into his eyes, almost shouting. The pupils were dilated and red-rimmed from sleepless nights but for a moment they fixed on him with clarity. “There are others working with me. They are the most important now. Whatever happens, you must protect them. They have got to stay alive, at any costs. Find them as fast as you can and make them safe, before it’s too late. It’s happening.”

  And with that he was gone. Before George could say anything else he ran, leaving George wondering what on earth he was talking about. That was the last conversation he would have with his brother. Although George did not fully realise it then, and would never truly appreciate its significance, it was quite probably the most critical conversation of their entire lives.

  When it finally came, surprisingly enough, the first attack was not perpetrated by Jason. A laboratory technician working with Bennett who had recently been bitten by one of the rats had been feeling under the weather and had been keeping himself very much to himself. Suddenly he exploded forth into the small, scared community that had developed. He shattered the deceptive calm with his frothing rant and angry, insatiable hunger, bringing an end to the fragile safety that they had all temporarily enjoyed. The injuries he inflicted on a number of people before he was stopped, by George himself, were enough to spread throughout the laboratories and quickly and uncontrollably the sick outnumbered the survivors. Hiding places were few and the savagery was truly bestial. Jason’s last ever act of reason was tainted with the onset of madness. He thrust his laptop into the rucksack of Isabelle, seemingly the safest place he could think of to hide it, whilst an unseen buzz-saw reverberated around his skull, before leaving the safety of the laboratory. He walked slowly out into the car park, closing the exit door firmly and decisively behind him. His instincts were still strong enough to want to remove his family from the peril that, even now, he realised he posed to them; the last act of a thoroughly remorseful and loving father, a good and conscientious man, and the reaper of society’s downfall.

  CHAPTER 2

  Her hair was dark and glossy, full of life and lustre, framing her unique and extraordinary features. Her eyes were perceptive and inquisitive, always watching, always assessing, practically feline but beautiful and captivating. Her mouth sometimes looked to be created from smooth satin, sometimes polished marble, and, unusually for a vampire, her lips were full, inviting attention and holding it hostage. She displayed a perfectly pronounced Cupid’s bow on the upper lip with a slight, endearing sneer to her smile, as though she knew something about her audience but was withholding the secret until a time more profitable to herself.

  Her ceramic skin was flawless and uncreased and looked every bit as cold as the wells of her eyes. Her enviable curves whilst human had always attracted a lot of admiration. Now, through the inevitable shedding of weight and gradual elongation over time, her figure was even more desirable. Flavia was aware of her own attractiveness and that she was lusted after. This inclined her towards a certain manipulative flirtatiousness. She used that to her advantage and turned on her charm when needed, often knowingly but sometimes unintentionally. Like a constant flow of electricity, she could direct it but never extinguish it. In the long years as a vampire it gave her brief but welcome distraction. She exerted her will on those within her sphere of influence for her own gain, but not necessarily with mal intent, often with a playful
edge to it. It became a game to her, to bend the intentions of others to align more closely to her own, a test of her abilities lest one day she need them for real. Rarely had that been the case, but she found that these days, when the world was turned upside down, she was regularly using her guile to its fullest. She had grown accustomed to the wanton glances of others and the overall effect that she portrayed was striking.

  For these reasons, perhaps, Flavia was the most brazen of all the clan and had courted human company more than any of them. She relied on a little gentle mind-manipulation and the lascivious nature of the underclass of humans with whom she occasionally spent any time. They were generally unsavoury types, drug-abusers, occultists and mentally unstable, and she was able to deceive them into ignoring the oddities of her countenance and to focus on her more desirable attributes. Her clothes only accentuated her deliberately vampish appearance. The corset was cinched tightly around her slim waist, emphasising her bust. The leather trousers were unusual but suited her overall look and she wore them unapologetically, reflecting her attitude to life in general. On occasion she strapped a black trench coat around herself which, whilst covering her flesh, did little to hide her contours and only added to the deliberate air of a dominatrix.

  Flavia was the second that Farzin had turned. He had found her living a life of unfulfilled promise and she had gone to him willingly, greedily accepting the lure of immortality and what he could show her with her alert eyes wide open. He had educated her in all matters and she absorbed everything readily, watching his movements when he slayed, emulating and scrutinizing him and listening to his theories and teachings.

  Her first kill had been a blur, a jumble of disorganised half-memories, moments of confused consciousness tainted with the pulsing in her head, the voice speaking in her mind and the raging, unquenchable thirst. She struggled to recall its precise details and to discern what was real and what memories she had created herself. All she had been aware of was Farzin presenting her with a struggling youth, like a cat bringing a half-dead mouse back to its master, watching and waiting in gleeful anticipation for her to taste her first blood. The warmth of liquid-fire and life filled her mouth and throat with unexpected force as she bit more deeply than she needed. The unimaginable eruption of power deep within her threatened to overcome her senses and she had all-but collapsed as she staggered backwards, convulsing in surprise and ecstasy as the rest of the clan fell upon the leftovers with howls of delight. That had been her first but many more were to follow, sometimes animal but often human. For her, drinking the blood of a human was a means to an end; for Farzin the very means was just as important, sometimes more so.