by J. C. Diem
I fell unconscious with the idea of driving north until I ran out of road and hit the English Channel. Once there, I would cross over to the land of my distant ancestors.
·~·
Chapter Twenty-Four
Waking, I stretched muscles that didn’t really need to be stretched since they weren’t cramped and my hands encountered metal walls. Before I could spiral into panic I remembered I was in the boot of Luc’s rental car. Outside my stolen vehicle, shoes clicked on concrete, car doors slammed, engines coughed to life then the cars drove away. I waited for the noise to abate before popping the boot open and climbing out.
An elevator over to the right dinged and a lone man disembarked from the depths. Dressed in a dark, sombre suit, he carried a briefcase and spoke rapidly into a mobile phone. Finishing his quiet conversation, he slipped the phone into his pocket and strode towards the few remaining cars. I was moving before conscious thought told me to. My stomach didn’t rumble, I didn’t think it was capable of that anymore, but it was insisting that it was dinner time.
I waited until my meal had unlocked his car and deposited his briefcase inside before striking. Tapping him on the shoulder, I hid a grin at his decidedly unmanly squeak. He whirled around with his hands raised defensively, expecting an attack of some kind. His alarm changed to relief when he saw presumably harmless little me standing there.
Putting a hand over his heart, he laughed then spoke rapidly in French. “You scared the devil out of me!” I translated his words mentally and laughed with him. Then our eyes locked and he was mine.
He wasn’t bad looking, with light brown hair and blue eyes. The body beneath the suit spoke of hours spent in the gym. My flesh hunger rose up and warred briefly with my blood hunger. Do you really want to have sex with this stranger? I asked myself incredulously. The answer was no, definitely not. But it wouldn’t bother me much to take half a pint of his blood.
Swaying toward me at my unspoken command, his hands found my hips and gripped hard as I went up to my tippy toes. A shudder ran through him when my lips touched his neck. From afar, we would have resembled a couple locked in a passionate embrace. Up close, it was a horror story of my unnatural hunger for the sweet and salty substance that powered all humans.
My teeth broke through his skin and found the vein unerringly. I took as much blood as I could stomach then eased him down before his legs could give out. He was sitting on his briefcase but by his bemused expression, I doubted he even felt it.
After a surreptitious look around, I determined that our exchange had gone unnoticed then scurried back to my car. Driving towards the exit, I spied the metal bar preventing me from leaving and remembered I didn’t have any money. Payment could be made by inserting a credit card into a slot but I didn’t have one handy. Fortunately, there were no ticket guards to ask me uncomfortable questions about how I preferred to pay. There was, however, a security camera perched over the exit. I had stopped just out of range more by accident than design.
Knowing that Luc could be close on my trail, I felt an urgent need to get back on the road. Reversing back a bit, I parked the car again, remaining close enough that I could make a quick getaway. Sticking to the shadows, I approached the camera with caution. A car pulled up at the gate and I shrank back behind a concrete column. The female driver inserted a card in the slot and drove off when the bar rose. I stared after her enviously. If I’d had any brains, I would have searched my snack for his prepaid card or at least his wallet for a credit card. My hunger had momentarily taken control of my ability to think.
Judging the angle of the security camera, I sidled up to it, doing my best to stay out of the range of the lens. What I was about to attempt couldn’t be seen by humans. It would advertise the fact that there really were supernatural creatures living amongst them. Since advertising our presence was against the rules, I’d do my best to remain undetected. I didn’t want to give the Councillors any reason to begin hunting me down. Staying under their radar had become my number one goal.
Making one more sweep of the car park for witnesses, I bent my knees then launched myself into the air. Like a basket-baller making the greatest slam dunk of their life, I reached the level of the camera and swatted it to death. Unfortunately, I put too much power into the jump and smacked my head on the concrete ceiling.
“Ow! Shiiiittttt!!” Landing awkwardly, I put my hands on my head just in case my brains were trying to leak out. The skin wasn’t broken, but the bones shifted around unpleasantly beneath my palms. I’d cracked my skull in several places but it was already starting to knit back together.
With the pain rapidly fading, I scurried into action. The camera was definitely out of operation. Hanging from a couple of wires, it was spitting sparks angrily. Small pieces of plastic and metal littered the ground. I kicked them out of the way so they wouldn’t puncture my tyres.
Jogging over to the barrier, I pushed it up, heard something snap and kept pushing until it bent backwards then gave an ominous crack. It would be just my luck if the barrier fell on my stolen car when I drove through. With that in mind, I ripped the bar off completely and threw it aside. Hurrying to my ride, I climbed in then rapidly made my escape from the car park.
I was hit with the giggles as I found the highway and resumed my trek north. The picture of me launching into the air and crunching against the concrete ceiling was stuck in my head. Maybe I should get in some practice before trying something like that again. I was still so new to being a vampire that I didn’t know my own strength.
It took me most of the night to reach the northern tip of France, due to traffic and getting lost and having to backtrack a few times. I managed to get turned around on the streets of Paris and gaped at the Eiffel Tower on my way past. Twice. It was almost worth being made into the undead to see the tall metal tower all lit up at night.
Fighting my way through the clogged traffic, I made it through the busiest streets and kept going north. The later it grew, the less traffic I had to contend with. Stopping to fill up the tank before it ran completely dry, it took only one brief glance at a fellow customer to bamboozle him into giving me all the cash in his wallet. It amounted to just enough to pay for the petrol.
I finally reached Calais after getting lost a couple more times then drove around looking for another underground parking lot to hide in. I wasn’t about to attempt crossing the Channel with so little time left before dawn.
Locating a likely car park, I nosed the car inside and headed for the next level down. Securing myself in the boot again after choosing a parking spot, I mulled over what I knew about the English Channel. I’d heard people crossed it all the time and that it could take twenty-odd hours to cross, depending on the weather and skill level of the swimmer. I wasn’t a very strong swimmer but I was hoping that wouldn’t matter much now that I couldn’t drown. The problem was that I would have less than twelve hours of darkness to make the crossing before dawn. Travelling to England by ferry or train was out. Someone might remember me. I didn’t want to leave a clear trail of where I was going and make it easier for Luc to follow me. If he could track Silvius halfway across the world and right to the mausoleum where he’d met his timely death, he could track me easily enough.
It was a relief when I sank into sleep and could put my concerns away for the day.
Come nightfall, I woke to the comforting if not comfortable confines of the boot. It was hard to believe that I’d had a home and an actual bed once. It felt like my old life had happened a long time ago in a land far, far away. Australia is far, far away, stupid. I was allowing myself to grow maudlin and I couldn’t afford the distraction right now.
Leaving the car in the parking lot, I scrounged for a plastic bag that wasn’t full of holes and found one in a bin on the street. The lot I’d chosen was in an area that didn’t see much foot traffic so no one saw me scrounging around in the trash. Wrapping the journal and cross in plastic securely, I debated whether it would be good enough. I didn’t want th
e journal to be water damaged so found another bag and wrapped them in it as well. It should be water tight now.
My nose led me to the water, past a shopping district that was probably quaint by day but mostly deserted now. It would have been nice to spend a few minutes window shopping but I didn’t have the time. I was tempted to break into a clothes store but again, my time was limited.
The smell of salt water grew stronger until I could see the dark water lapping at the shore. I heard a ruckus as I approached the Channel and watched from a distance as a man in his early twenties slapped his arms and chest in an effort to psych himself up to make the crossing. He had a support team around him offering advice and encouragement. I looked around for my own support team and saw a lone cat sitting on a low stone wall, staring at me impassively. With a disdainful sniff, it jumped to the ground and sauntered off. So much for my support team.
Keeping my distance from the small crowd, I made my way down to the water. I clambered over slippery rocks, wrinkling my nose at the strong smells of salt and sewage. Water slopped into my shoes as I neared the Channel and my toes shrank back from the cold. As the support team raised a cheer for their champion, I stuck the journal and cross down the front of my pants, braced myself and plunged into the water.
It wasn’t just cold, the water was very nearly freezing. While my competitor wore an insulated wetsuit, I wore jeans and a jumper. My teeth started chattering and didn’t stop. I thought the exercise would warm me but I was wrong. You needed live blood pumping through your veins for that to happen. I wished there had been some way to bring the spare change of clothes with me but I hadn’t been able to find any more plastic bags. Now I wouldn’t have a dry change of clothes once I reached the other side.
Pacing myself several hundred yards away from my competition, I realized after about ten minutes that he was holding me back. My stroke might not be as smooth as his but I also wasn’t getting tired. Putting my face down into the water, I put on a burst of speed and trusted my hearing would keep me out of trouble.
A ferry was crossing the river somewhere in the distance. Smaller vessels chugged backwards and forwards. At one point I had to dive as a boat approached. I surfaced when it was gone and continued my swim. It was a moonless night and, with the help of cloud cover, no one saw me cutting through the water.
Water lapping against rocks warned me that I’d made it to the other side. My watch told me I’d broken all the records, I’d only taken five and a half hours to make the crossing. If I hadn’t been so frigging cold I might have felt proud of my efforts. Sure I’d only managed to cross so quickly because I was the living dead but it had still been an accomplishment.
Clambering up the rocks, I steered clear of the crowd that had gathered to greet my competition. I’d left him behind long ago and they would be waiting for a while. Spying a few chairs that had been brought along for the lazy to sit on, I crept up and nabbed a couple of blankets that had fallen to the ground. Two old ladies, mostly drunk from the sounds of it, laughed raucously. I caught the tail end of a filthy joke and shook my head. Women could be very dirty when there were no guys around to hear them. Figuring I needed the blankets far more than they did, I snuck away into the night. Drinking alcohol was something I’d done fairly infrequently when I’d been alive. It was doubtful it would have the same ability to warm me inside now as it once had.
Wrapped in the blankets, I searched for somewhere safe to stay. Gone were the days when I could have booked a room in a hotel. I had no money, no identification and didn’t trust the staff not to come in and clean even if I put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door. I had to find someplace away from the sun where I would remain undiscovered. I reluctantly thought of finding a cemetery and borrowing a mausoleum for the night. Been there, done that, not doing it again, my mind rebelled at the idea.
My foot caught on something and I lurched forward a couple of steps. Graceful as a gazelle, I mocked my clumsiness, glad no other vampires were around to witness my stumble. Glancing back to see what I’d tripped over, I spotted a manhole. The lid was raised slightly and blended in so well with the road that I hadn’t even seen it.
Hmm, the sewers, I mused. They would be dark and deserted. Being beneath the roads would be and safer than wandering the streets in increasing desperation. Kneeling beside the lid, I checked the street to make sure I was still alone. Lifting the lid as easily as I’d have once lifted a cup of coffee, I peered down into the shaft. A rusty ladder led down to water that glinted below.
Wrinkling my nose at the smell that wafted out, I slid inside and pulled the lid shut behind me. I made sure it was properly closed this time so no other rogue vampires might stumble over it. Sliding quickly to the bottom, I wiped my hands on a blanket to get rid of the rust, moisture and slimy feeling. The tunnel I was in was completely lightless. There were no markings to indicate which would the best direction to head in. Choosing the left tunnel simply because I couldn’t stand there for what remained of the night, I headed deeper into the sewer.
The odour of human waste was overpowering and I seriously had to rethink the idea of hiding out down there. What safer place could there be? Humans won’t come down here. Except for the occasional maintenance crew, my assumption was probably correct. I saw no signs of recent human activity on the slime and moss encrusted walkways that ran alongside the sewer channels.
Passing the occasional grate that let street crud and water in, I knew I’d have to find somewhere better than one of the surface tunnels to bunk down in. Sunlight would still be able to find me here. Reaching an intersection, I now had four directions to choose from. I let my instincts take over and guide me.
Taking tunnels at random, I eventually found one that ended in a cul-de-sac. There were no grates to let in the killing light and I deemed I’d be safe enough for one night. The blankets I’d pilfered had helped to soak up some of the damp but I still felt chilled. A meal might have warmed me up but it had been the longest night of my new life so far and I frankly just wanted it to be over.
Curling up against a wall on one of the blankets, I huddled into a ball with the other one tucked around me. I was so wide awake I thought I’d never fall asleep but when my watch said it was close to dawn, my eyes began to close. I gave up without a fight and subsided into welcome nothingness.
·~·
Chapter Twenty-Five
As soon as I became conscious the next night, I was on the move. I had no idea if Luc had bothered to follow me or not but I had to assume he would. Dover was too small to hide a lone vampire for long. What I needed was a place with millions of people living in it that I could easily hide amongst. London was my best bet. Now, what would be the best way to get there?
Emerging from the sewers near a park, I brushed myself off as best as I could, dumped the blankets on a bench then headed for the nearest main road. With my journal and cross hidden beneath my jumper down the front of my jeans, my luggage was light. Being a smallish woman all on my own, I figured I looked like a low risk hitchhiker.
Walking down the road, I waited for a sucker to come along. Within minutes, a vehicle approached. Turning around, I walked backwards with my thumb stuck out in the universal sign that I needed a ride. The vehicle, a dark grey van, swerved over to pick me up. No woman in her right mind would have gotten into the van after taking a look at the driver. He had wild ginger hair, a matching beard and the deadest eyes I’d ever seen on a live person.
“Where are you headed, love?” His voice was deep and inflectionless, as empty of life as his eyes were.
“As far as you can take me,” I replied.
After a deep, considering look, he nodded at the passenger door. “Hop in then and I’ll take you for the ride of your life.” His smile was wide and would have been utterly terrifying if I’d still been human. If he’d known what I was, he would be the one to run screaming.
Accepting the invitation, I climbed inside and pulled the door closed. I was expecting the move even befo
re he made it and was ready as his fist came hurtling toward my face. I caught his hand and yanked the hairy monster closer to me. His eyes opened wide in surprise and with the beginnings of fear. I bet he hadn’t been scared of another person in a long time, if ever. After a longer than usual staring match, he succumbed to my mojo. The usual dreamy blankness took over and he was ready for my command.
“Take me to London,” I ordered and let his hand go. I wiped my palm on my jeans in an effort to rid myself of the soiled feeling touching him had given me. Hypnotised by the dark powers that animated my corpse, he took off smoothly. His driving skills apparently weren’t affected by being beneath my spell. He made no objection when I turned the heater on full blast. Within minutes, sweat trickled down his face but I was still shivering.
We made good time along the highways and byways. I was mildly disturbed that he hadn’t fallen instantly beneath my power. Maybe it didn’t work so easily on the deranged. They should hand out leaflets when they make new vampires. A guide to being undead would have come in handy over the past couple of weeks.
I had plenty of time to examine the van, which I named the Lair of The Ginger Monster in my head. The smell of old blood, excrement, urine and perfume was strong. A human might not be able to smell it but I could. I made an educated guess that the ginger psycho had murdered at least several people in the back of his ride. There was no obvious visible evidence of this but I was betting a black light that forensic cops used would make the dark grey carpet glow violet from the overlapping bloodstains.
Was I concerned as I rode beside the murderer of an unknown number of people? Not really. Not for my sake anyway. I could easily snap him in half like the wishbone of a chicken if I wanted to. But I did get to thinking about the poor sods who had suffered at his hands. His big, ginger, meaty hands with their unwashed nails and rough callouses.