by Rook, Rowan
For a while, Dale said nothing. No one did.
The leader heaved a long, shaky sigh. “Then I’ll leave it up to each of you.” His eyes scanned the prison. “Flee and secure your next four years, or stay and fight for more!”
Nothing. No one spoke.
Martin’s chin touched Mason’s ear. “Get yourself and Merril out of here.”
This time, he didn’t argue. He took off, limbs shaking as they carried him clumsily up the stairs. This really did have to be a nightmare.
“If you’re going to leave, do it now!” Dale’s voice filled the building. “If you’re going to stay, ready yourselves! Don’t just stand –”
Those were Dale’s last words. A bullet broke the air, roaring.
It went straight through his head, shattering the back of his skull and emerging from his forehead. He fell, face flat against the grimy concrete. An earsplitting silence took the gunshot’s place.
For that moment in time, Mason forgot all about Merril. He stared over the balcony, eyes wide and white.
Dale was dead.
And they were at the doorway.
The corridor came alive in screams and shouts. Panic climbed the walls like maggots and circled like a fly, buzzing from person to person and setting them on fire. Mason swore he could feel the heat. It was hot, blazing, and yet there were no flames. And it was so, so cold.
“Mason!”
He jumped, his name cutting through the noise. Merril!
He yanked himself from the railing and dashed for her cell. Gunshots. Raised voices. Wet thuds. Metal hitting bone. He forced himself not to look down. There was only one thing that mattered.
Merril stood by her cell door, fingers clenched around the bars. She craned her neck to see outside, but her legs shook, frozen in place.
She’d called for him. Some small part of her, somewhere, didn’t believe he was gone. A flicker of relief flittered through her green gaze as she caught sight of him.
His anxious hands fumbled with the door she’d left locked. “Come on, we’re getting out of here!”
She looked up at him, quivering. “W-what’s –”
“Don’t worry about it!” He gritted his teeth and held out a hand. “We aren’t hanging around.”
She hesitated a final moment, searching his eyes. She took his hand and wrapped her fingers around the back of his palm. Whatever she was looking for in his gaze, she seemed to find it.
Mason smiled, before another gunshot wiped it from his face. They transferred their nerves to their legs and made for the stairs.
Only a single exit led outside. The eastern route beckoned further into the prison, towards the chapel. He dared a glance at the main hall and immediately looked away. Bodies. He didn’t allow himself time to recognize them, but he saw bodies. They couldn’t risk the chaos – they’d have to take the interior exit and hope for another way out.
The human and the vampire swept down the stairs and whirled into the doorway directly below them. It was open, but they didn’t have time for caution. They just kept running.
They stopped only to pull open every door they passed. Each time they prayed they’d see the horizon waiting for them on the other side, and each time, they saw nothing but more gray walls. Storage rooms, an old office, nothing. Mason cursed under his breath – he should’ve scoped out the exits earlier.
There had to be one near the chapel, right? There had to be! They swung open the arched door guarding the church.
Only to be greeted by the barrel of a gun. Three humans waited inside – officers looking for stragglers, and now they’d found two.
Mason acted on instinct, yanking himself and Merril to the floor before a bullet burst over their heads. Merril shrieked. “Human! I’m human! Stop!”
The officer in front raised his handgun for another shot. Mason wrapped his arms around Merril’s shoulders and frantically fought with his legs. They flailed clumsily beneath him, suddenly not quite working.
A second bullet filled the chapel with noise.
The human collapsed to the floor with a wet, red splash. Mason’s eyes jolted up to see Martin hovering above him with Dale’s old weapon in hand. It was his brother who’d fired the shot. He inhaled in relief, opening his mouth to speak, but he didn’t have time to finish.
Another officer peered from behind a pew; the barrel of his gun propped against the bench and trained for Mason’s head. Martin pulled the trigger faster and sent the man to the tile.
The final human never raised his firearm. He charged forward, white knuckles wrapped around a dagger.
A female figure met him before Martin’s weapon could, pouncing with feline grace and sinking her teeth into his neck. He fell with a half-finished scream before his killer knelt to feed.
All three humans were dead.
“Sorrel!” Mason staggered to his feet alongside a shaky Merril.
Sorrel looked up at the sound of his voice, crimson dripping from the corners of her mouth. Merril’s nose curled in disgust and Sorrel couldn’t resist flashing a grin with scarlet-streaked teeth. The vampire chuckled at the human’s whimper.
“Is there an exit this way? There has to be, right?” Mason got right to the point. Escape was the only thing that mattered, and Sorrel had lived in the prison far longer than he had. If anyone knew, it would be her.
She nodded, and he smiled in relief. “There’s a way out down the right hall, just up ahead. You can get out around the back that way.”
“Perfect!” Mason snatched Merril’s hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
He started running, beside his childhood friend and brother. But when he reached their turn, he stopped. Something was wrong. He looked back.
Sorrel wasn’t coming. She lingered at the chapel doorway, eyes watching not the exit, but the main hall.
“…Mason?” Merril paused, stumbling.
He shot her a confident smile. “Go with Martin, okay?” He let go of her hand and dashed off in Sorrel’s direction.
“Mason, wait!”
He didn’t. He hurried to the other girl’s side. “Sorrel, what is it? We have to go!”
Sorrel looked at him without turning her head. “Yes, you do. But I’m staying.”
He stiffened. “What –”
She closed her eyes. “Mercy is Swalow’s wife.”
He blinked, bewildered. Something told him those words were important, but he didn’t quite understand why.
“She told me about it, once.” She looked down. “Her husband, and how he killed their daughter after she turned.” Her usual glimmer was gone, replaced by solemn fire. “He’ll be looking for her – he’ll want to kill her, too. He’ll find her in the research lab.” She finally met his gaze. “It's all over if we lose the blood project. We have to stop him! I have to!”
He went cold as her words sunk in. “Sorrel, no!” He reached for her arm without realizing it. “You can’t go back in there! No way!”
A strange smile passed across her pale face. “I have to try, don’t I?”
He shook his head. “You don’t! Hurry out, with us.”
“It may not be yours, but this is my family. The only one I’ve ever had. I don’t have to stay. I want to. I want to fight for it.” She smiled. “Isn’t that what makes me human?”
“No. Alex was wrong. It’s not –” He stuttered. “The will to survive is human, too!”
“Animals put survival first, but there’s something I value more.” She smirked, just slightly. “Don’t preach. It’s the same for you, isn’t it?”
He went quiet, suddenly aware of Martin and Merril’s eyes on the back of his head.
“But…” Something shifted in her voice, something sad. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “How about that kiss first?”
A…kiss? Ah! He stared blankly until he realized what she meant. The deal he’d made earlier. There was no time to argue.
She was tall – he didn’t have to bend down to press his lips against hers.
/>
She startled, as if she hadn’t expected him to actually do it, but didn’t pull away. It was different than it was with Merril, different than it had been in his dream. No breath replaced his, no heartbeat pulsed against his silent ribs, and her clammy lips tingled with the lingering tang of blood. But there was a spark there, too. Something that made the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end.
The moment lingered – noise and time giving them that single beat. Then she pulled back, smiling. “That was my first kiss, you know.”
She dashed away, retracing their steps down the hall.
“Stop!” Mason gasped down a breath and outstretched an arm, but she was already gone. He watched her vanish into the chaos of moving bodies and bodies that no longer moved at all.
Weight pressed against his chest and faded the last traces of heat.
He knew. She wasn’t going to make it out. He wasn’t going to see her again.
Other frantic vampires dashed by in search of the same exit. The two girls he’d once shared school with caught his eye as they stumbled past, and his gaze followed them. He jumped – Martin and Merril stood just behind him. Something sunk into his stomach. How long had they been there?
When he met Merril’s gaze, he got his answer. She looked away and stared at the floor. “Mason, go.”
He stammered, not managing an answer.
Green eyes met brown. “You need her now, don’t you?” Her voice was quiet, but steady and firm. Steadier than he’d heard it in a long while.
“No!” This time the words were Martin’s. “Going back in there is suicide.” His fingers shuffled on the handle of his gun. “You’re not going; not without me. It’s my job to keep an eye on my little brother, after all.” A solemn grin. “The girl is right – we have to protect the project.”
Mason’s eyes widened. “But, Merril –”
“I’ll wait outside,” she decided, brow furrowed in determination. “I’ll wait, and if you don’t come back, I’ll head for the city myself. That’s my decision.”
He shook his head. It was crazy. Human or not, it wasn’t like the officers would believe her or take the time to check for a pulse. He…couldn’t just…
Her thin lips curled to a small, somber smile. “I might be sick, but I’m not weak.” She raised her hands to her chest, over the place where her heart still beat. “I’ll be fine.”
In that moment, he knew she would be. It was the first time he’d heard a voice that strong leave her lungs.
“Come on.” Martin shoved him in the shoulder and hurried towards the hall.
With a last beat of hesitation, he watched his brother leave. Everyone around him had become so much stronger, sharpened by the chaos into something more than bystanders waiting for the plague to catch up with them. When they saw a chance to save themselves and those they loved, they fought for it. What about him? Was he still the same boy who'd let his last few years slip by beyond the window of his room? No. Perhaps he wasn't. He couldn't allow himself to be if he wanted to keep going. He couldn't take life and do nothing with it. His first had ended with a bite to his ankle, and this new one was all together different. This time, he didn't want to simply survive. He wanted to live. He wanted to fight.
Mason gave Merril a final glance before following, not looking back.
****
Mason stared at the back of his brother’s head like it was the only thing in the world as they slunk to the infirmary. He didn’t want to see anything else. The two of them clung to the walls at the edge of the dying chaos, staying low.
Mason struggled to keep up. It was difficult to move quietly and quickly at the same time. Geez. Martin said that he wanted to protect him, but he was wrapped up in himself like always. He could at least slow down and –
Something tangled beneath Mason’s feet and ruined his balance. He landed on his palms, wincing as his knees hit the floor. He yelped when he saw what he’d tripped over.
A body. It didn’t belong to anyone he’d known well, but he’d seen the blank face looking up at him wandering about the prison with bright eyes. The noise left his mouth before he could stop it.
It was nearly a fatal mistake. A click came from somewhere above his head, and his eyes jolted up to meet those of a human standing over him with gun in hand.
The man fell before he could pull the trigger. Someone else tackled him from behind and sunk sharp teeth into his neck, ripping out his throat and silencing his scream with graceful efficiency. The muddle of long red hair stared down at Mason, messy with blood.
He swallowed a wordless gulp of air. Alex.
She smirked – her usual, confident smirk – then turned and fled.
For just an instant, his eyes followed her into the mess and towards the outer exit. Someone must have let the captives go. His shaking fingers scraped the cement floor. She was free. The fire she’d set was burning down lives all around them, but she was free. How was that fair?
Someone grabbed his arm and yanked him up. His lungs bulged for another screech, but it died in his mouth when he realized it was Martin. His brother shot him a cross glare and he shrunk down beneath it, steadying his feet. He needed to keep pace this time. He forced himself to move, fighting off panicked pinpricks of black and white at the edges of his vision. They needed to get out of there.
They slipped down the small side corridor leading to the infirmary. It was darker inside, the open door little more than a black slit. Mason dashed up and peered through it with a burst of grim adrenaline.
Something heavy crashed into his legs and threw him to the floor the instant he reached the doorway. His head pounded the cement with a smack that blurred the minutes together. He wasn’t sure how many ticked by before he realized the thing lying on top of him was Sorrel. Someone had thrown Sorrel at him.
There was a scream – a shrill, feminine shriek. The kind that came from fear, not pain.
“Mercy, no!” A second voice followed, low and frantic.
A crash echoed from the bowels of the room.
“Filthy slut!”
Another high-pitched wail breathed through the open door.
Mason lifted his head just in time to see Swalow jab a scalpel through Cliff’s eye.
The doctor screeched and stumbled, clawing at the blade jutting from his skull. He fought for footing, but he didn’t regain it fast enough – Swalow raised his gun and shot him in the head, point blank.
His body nearly fell atop Mercy. He’d stood between her and her armed husband, and collapsed just inches from where she watched with wide eyes. The scalpel tumbled loose and tapped harmlessly on the floor.
“Cliff! Cliff!” The normally quiet Mercy knelt next to him, shaking him as frantically as the tears streaming down her cheeks. He didn’t move. “Cliff!”
Martin dashed for the killer and sent a bullet in his direction in one swift motion.
It never hit. Swalow whirled to face them and held up a broken piece of metal. The bullet dug into it with a dull clang and left nothing but a dent. Perhaps it’d come from a broken shelf or desk, but either way, it made an effective shield.
Martin ground his jaw, ducking down and training his gun on the other humans in the lab.
Shots registered in Mason’s ears – one, two, three, he lost count. They sprayed the back of the room, each bullet chasing another. What he swore was blood pulsed in the back of his skull – he needed to focus. He needed to take in as much information as he could in as little time as possible.
Swalow hadn’t come alone. There were five other humans there, all armed. Well, there had been five. Now there were four, and one corpse peppered with red holes. Several shelves were reduced to rubble, but other boxes stood packed and secured, ready to go. The doctors had clearly been busy before the assault…they simply hadn’t had time to finish.
The humans surged forward in a group, four bodies rushing theirs.
Sorrel scrambled off Mason and to her feet. “Mercy!”
She charged forw
ard, but she didn’t make it. One of the men grabbed her legs. She screamed, returning to the floor while human hands clutched her ankle and hoisted it into the air like a dead animal. She clawed at cement and debris, but without anything to hold on to, her strength did little good.
“Sorrel!” Mason leapt, feet moving without waiting for his permission. He aimed for the man’s throat on instinct and swirled to the side just in time to avoid the knife waiting there for him. His teeth met flesh, but another of the officers grabbed him beneath the arms and yanked him off before he could drain away his victim’s life.
He kicked, twisting his ribs beneath his captor’s arms. It was useless. The bitten man clutched his soon-to-be-fatal wound instead of Sorrel’s ankle, but another surged him, snatching his own flailing shins.
Shit. They had both his arms and his legs. He was helpless. He gasped and shook, heaving as if his lungs still fought for air.
The fourth man hovered over him, aiming a dagger between his eyes.
“No!” Shit shit shit. “Stop –”
Bang.
The officer collapsed as the back of his skull shattered into a sludge of white and gray, destroyed by another of Martin’s bullets.
Mason flew through the air before he realized what was happening – they’d thrown him towards his savior to stop the spray of bullets. The brothers connected with yelps and toppled over in a tangle of limbs that sent Martin’s gun flying across the cement.
Martin was up in an instant, shoving himself from the ground and charging for the nearest human’s neck with jaw open wide.
He did more than sink his teeth in – he tore through the man’s flesh and ripped out his jugular in a horrible mess of blood and bone. The victim never managed a scream.
But the last officer did. He charged Martin from behind while the vampire still hovered over his kill.
It happened in slow motion. The human shoved down a knife and thrust it deep into Martin’s skull. A horrible snap split the silence as it penetrated bone.
Martin crumbled. Fell. Collapsed. He landed atop the person he’d killed just moments ago with the same dull thud.