The Blood of the Infected (Book 1): Once Bitten, Twice Die

by Antony Stanton

  Luca was born in a village called Modanella in central Italy where superstition and the myth of vampires was an everyday part of life amongst rural villagers. He had made the voyage to England aboard a container ship that was leased by a merchant of expensive coffins to export his wares to wealthy clients in the UK. Whilst it was mere fable that vampires spent their nights asleep inside a coffin, on this voyage however it had suited Luca’s purpose. He had stolen on board with relative ease and spent the crossing in a state of trance-like catatonia inside a rather flamboyant casket with purple, felt lining. Ironically it was designed for the use of an elderly bishop from the diocese of Bath and Wells with ostentatious tastes, who would never know that its first occupant was somewhat less than accepted by his church.

  Earlier, before the latest confrontation between Farzin and Darius, Luca had been some distance from the presbytery, enjoying the curious feeling of searching for sustenance with no particular caution or hurry. As for all of them, since the collapse of society this freedom to wander was such a complete novelty and he found pleasure in the most inconsequential of things. He had stood for a while in the middle of the street with his arms outstretched, staring towards the heavens, marvelling at the wonder of the sky and the clouds that scurried nervously by.

  Luca’s senses of smell and hearing were extremely acute even for a vampire, and as he meandered in an unknown area he had encountered a desirable scent, that of uncontaminated humans. It gave him an enormous thrill, like a child waking up on Christmas morning to the promise of untold gifts. The odour was faint and intermittent and seemed to be coming from a hospital that he was passing. A bead of perspiration formed on his brow and upper lip and he hardly noticed the fact that he was panting.

  Harlow’s imposing Princess Margaret Alexandra district hospital had been built of beige brick in the post-war years. Glass covered the road which gave a crunch to his normally silent footfalls, and for some reason there were hospital beds scattered outside the entrance, mostly overturned and splattered with blood. Lower windows were barricaded although a few of the boards had subsequently been torn off, and there were signs that some parts of the building had been ablaze. Various other medical accoutrements littered the grassy verge leading up to the main entrance, including a stethoscope, a pair of crutches and some bandages strewn like the aftermath of a rowdy football match.

  Luca dropped into a crouch. He was no longer blinded by the tunnel vision of excitement. Guardedly he approached the entrance. His senses strained to detect the slightest anomaly. He paused regularly to sniff and listen. As he entered his eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom within. He passed through the entrance hall on the lower floor. There was nothing but broken chairs and tables and smashed glass. Puddles of dried blood still held the noxious odour of contagion. A discarded shoe was smeared with gory remains, a ragged ankle bone protruded from it. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Over the smell of burnt wood it was hard to detect any other so he proceeded towards the main staircase where he caught the aroma once more.

  He silently started to ascend with his back pressed to the wall. On each floor he paused. He tested the air like a serpent, then quickly moved on. He negotiated his way carefully around the detritus, chasing the scent with increased urgency. When he reached the fourth floor he suddenly became aware of a slight change in the atmosphere. It was as though someone was nearby and their shadow had momentarily obscured the light, or of the slightest of drafts stirred up by movement. He could see nothing above him on the staircase but felt that he was no longer alone. He froze, straining to hear what awaited him. He considered whether it was wise to continue, not that he was afraid, but just that the thought of becoming cornered in such a confined space by a horde of the diseased was folly. Then he caught another subtle whiff of humans and the decision was made.

  He peered up the stairwell. Nothing moved in the gloom. There was not a sound, just a tomblike stillness so he proceeded more cautiously to the top floor. More broken furniture here littered the stairs. The perfume was strong and he began to feel intoxicated.

  Just short of the top step a man was laid on his back. There were dark stains on his shirt which had been pierced several times and blood had pooled around his upper torso. It was not clear whether he had died from these injuries or from smashing his head open as he lurched backwards down the stairs. What was certain from the odour and the flies that swarmed as Luca approached was that he had been dead for several days already, that and the fact that he had most certainly been contaminated.

  There had been a significant barricade placed at the top of the stairs. Desks and chairs had been piled virtually to the ceiling and bound together blocking access, although clearly the infected had done their best to try to break through. Beyond, some wardrobes had been stacked and secured. The entire array looked firm, well thought out and seemed to have served its purpose.

  There were splashes of septic blood all over the furniture. The bodies of three more contaminated men and a woman were arranged in various poses over the nearer desks like a ghoulish still life exhibition. The woman had several blatant, fleshy wounds festering around her shoulders and face, and a sharpened chair leg was still protruding from just under her jaw. The men were similarly marked and it looked as though there had been a horrendous struggle; the infected following nothing more than basic instincts and trying to get to fresh food, the defenders behind the barricades fighting desperately for their lives and to avoid the most horrible of fates.

  Luca leapt at the obstructions now, dispensing with caution as he felt his goal nearing. He could not contain himself any further. He tore at the tables and sent them crashing down the stairwell. He smashed his way through the wardrobes without noticing the splinters that speared his fists. He was too excited to notice that despite the ruckus he was now creating, no humans came to attack him.

  After a minute of hard work he finally smashed through the last wardrobe and stepped free into the open space beyond, all caution and subtlety had long been abandoned. By this time he was in a frenzy and no longer acting like a rational being. The tantalizing fragrance of his victims was overpowering and reminded him how much he missed the taste of human blood.

  There was no sound or sign of anyone from within. There was an open area with beds, medical monitors and all the equipment of a normal operating hospital ward. Everything looked in fairly reasonable order with none of the chaos that was apparent on lower floors. This level had obviously remained devoid of the infected and had served well as a safe-house, or perhaps as a prison. Leading away from the main section was a corridor and several smaller rooms which included offices, counselling rooms, lavatories and a treatment area that was cordoned off with curtains. In all areas there was no damage to furniture or windows. Everything was still very much in order and probably looked similar to how it had looked every day for years. There was evidence of survival in one of the rooms where a fire had been lit and empty food containers littered the floor. The lavatories stank of un-flushed human waste and Luca did not loiter.

  It was not the state of the place that was of interest to him however, he took all this in with a swift glance and a sense of disregard; he was solely interested in the presence of survivors. As he progressed he grew more and more agitated. In one of the offices he found the corpse of an adult male. The man had been dead for possibly a couple of days. He was lying on a trolley bed with his arms and legs bound securely to the frame. His shirt had been ripped and was stained with blood and his face had a distinct crimson hue to it. There was a large, open wound at his neck where he had been repeatedly stabbed by something sharp. It seemed odd that an ill person would have been kept in this safe haven for no good reason, but he was of no use to Luca who passed by quickly.

  The other humans were in one of the further wards and looked as though they were sunbathing, lying side by side on their backs in the light from the far window. There were three of them, two men and a woman. One of the men was dressed in a torn, white shirt and grey s
uit trousers. The other two wore nurse’s uniforms. Neither of the men had shaved in a while and their thick stubble and dishevelled appearance meant they probably did not look very different in death from how they had looked for the last week whilst still alive. Their waxy countenances bore the fixed expressions that they had worn as they died.

  Luca rushed to the corpses and checked them over quickly yet thoroughly. There was no sign of infection and he could not smell anything to cause concern. There were no human bite marks on the cadavers although he did quickly discover other teeth marks - those of a vampire!

  The three humans had undoubtedly died recently - very recently. A vampire would possibly recognize the bite marks of other clan members and Luca felt reasonably confident that they had not been killed by any of his fellows. He looked around and the only way he could think that the killer had gained access must have been through the window. With the significant revelation of others of his kind nearby he suddenly felt the presence of danger. In times such as these one could not be too careful, and he became vigilant once more. He had searched the adjoining rooms well enough and was quite sure that this vampire was no longer there, but nevertheless he could not be absolutely positive. He froze, sniffing, tasting the air and straining for the slightest sound. It was only then that he heard it - the distant creak of floorboards from somewhere below in the hospital, a rasp of laboured breathing, a heavy footfall on a stair. He looked towards the broken furniture of the barricade and saw nothing, so he quickly turned his attention back to the cadavers. He knew that whatever was making the noise below was most certainly not vampyric but may well arrive at any moment, and he would have to work quickly. Time was precious and escaping fast.

  The nearest body was the female. He dragged her closer to the window and propped her legs up on the sill in order to pool the blood towards her head. An aficionado in death, he probed her corpse for a couple of seconds. He pressed her face and watched the colour drain away and then return, a sign that the blood had not yet started congealing and a fairly accurate indication of her time of demise. Her muscles were still very pliable and rigor mortis had not even started to set in. These factors, together with her temperature, indicated that she had probably not been dead more than a few minutes. The initial incision had been on her wrist so he chose her neck. As he leaned close he could detect the smell of many days of unwashed sweat and grime masking a faint hint of cheap perfume. He ignored these odours and found her carotid artery with a single tooth, opening it up with a small incision. On a live person the pressure created by the heart would have sent a spurt of blood which he would have expected to fill his mouth with warm delirium and pleasure. On a fresh corpse he would have still expected a certain amount of residual pressure behind the flow of liquid. As he opened up her artery however there was barely a trickle to greet his avidly hopeful lips which showed how deeply the previous vampire had drunk. He created a larger hole with his tooth and sucked hard, raising her entire body now to pool all the blood towards her neck and was rewarded with a few meagre mouthfuls. Obviously there was a lot more blood in her still but it was just hard to get at it from one puncture point with the time he had available to him.

  He had become distracted in his excitement and had forgotten about the noises from below, but now they clamoured for his attention once again. There was the snap of breaking wood from the top of the stairs and a strangled choking. Luca did not move from the woman’s neck as the sounds drew close. It was only when the man entered the small ward that he even bothered to look up.

  He was in his late thirties. His head had been shaven but now sported possibly three weeks of dark stubble and lesions. His face was scarred beneath the scabs and open sores that had formed, and his eyes were an unhealthy yellow with red lines around the edges. He wore ripped black jeans and black boots but was topless. Menacing tattoos spread across his broad chest and all down his thick, muscular arms, ending only at his stubby hands which were bejewelled with chunky gold rings. He looked as though he had stepped straight from a gangster movie in the role of a henchman and would have been the kind of person one might cross the street to avoid in normal life and normal times. He stopped as he entered the ward and glared at Luca with boundless hatred and fury, emotions which fitted his cruel, blunt features admirably. He threw his head back and screeched as loud as he could, a scream that sounded totally eerie and unnatural coming from a human mouth and seemed to be formed of words but none that Luca could understand. He crouched and charged his significant bulk with arms reaching and grasping, still frothing and shrieking.

  Luca released the girl letting her fall with a thud but remained close to the floor. His eyes burned into his assailant, his mouth open wide with long, cruel incisors showing. His hiss turned into a roar of irritation at being disturbed whilst feeding. His yell was entirely more terrible than his assailant. A deep, primordial scream, it was a sound that originated back in time and had prevailed against adversity and fear and hatred. It was a sound that had silenced brave men before and made them lose control of their minds.

  He hardly moved as the man neared. Just as his attacker stretched out his arms to grasp, Luca abruptly stood with mighty force. He grabbed the man’s neck and crotch, maintaining his momentum. He swung the man around and then released him, hoisting him up and casting him through the window in a single, smooth, effortless movement. The glass and wooden frame shattered easily. The man’s shriek lost none of its rage as he sailed through the air with a graceful poise that he most certainly would not have possessed in his life before. His body described a gentle arc and he subtly rotated to face the sky. His scream did not stop until he landed with a snap on the ground, five floors and fifty-five feet below, his spine shattered and broken and the life from him utterly extinguished.

  Luca heard more sounds approaching but for now he was only concerned with his feed. He turned to the two men and repeated the procedure on the nearest, drawing a little more sustenance. The front of the rabble now entered the ward and rushed at him. Luca continued to ignore them as he sucked at the remaining blood and turned to the last corpse. They neared him just as he bit. He had time only for the briefest of feeds before they were upon him. There were possibly eight or nine already in the ward and several more that he could see streaming up the stairs behind. He had delayed longer than was prudent and the first of the infected swiped at his neck as he stood up. With a roar he lashed out with his foot. The man was sent hurtling back into the throng which scattered and bowled over the next few. Another lunged at him. He grasped Luca’s collar with both hands. Luca whipped round and tried to knock him aside but the man was driven by rage and hunger equal to his own, and his fingers had become entangled in Luca’s clothes. He slipped to the side but clung on and struggled back to his feet, biting at Luca’s face. Luca leapt in retreat over the three human corpses, dragging the man with him as the others now got back up and surged forwards. With the first hint of concern Luca calmed himself. He took a strong hold on the man’s forearms and quickly twisted them outwards, snapping both with a clean break. The wrist bones pierced the skin and the flesh around the injuries immediately started to blacken. He shoved the man backwards into the on-rushing attackers, scattering them once again.

  Had Luca been clearer minded he would have used the brief respite to make good his escape as their numbers in such a confined space were overwhelming even for a vampire. However he had just had his first, tantalizing taste of human blood in a long time. It had whetted his appetite and the fact that he was being chased off the kill sent him into an unrestrained rage. He lost control, bellowed at the oncoming infected and hurled himself forwards.

  He grabbed the nearest to him firmly by the head, a woman, probably in her late sixties. She wore an old, pink dress with a thick silver chain and crucifix around her neck. Her dark hair still displayed the remnants of a bad colouring job but her grey roots had long ago started showing through and now a lot of her hair had fallen out in clumps revealing a scabby, mottled scalp.
Most of her teeth were missing, those that remained were discoloured and her gums were bleeding and dark. He savagely twisting her head through ninety degrees and yanked it to the side. It had become apparent to the vampires that the contaminated would not be stopped merely by the pain of injury. They only seemed to feel anger and hunger and so in order to kill them, or at the very least immobilize them, it required a significant trauma to the head or spinal cord.

  He felt something snap in her body and pushed her away as he turned to the next of the infected, an overweight, bald man wearing dirty, brown pyjama bottoms and a stained, white string vest. Luca wasted no time on this attacker. He recoiled quickly and then as the man leapt at him, punched with all his might, a single blow to the head. Large as the man was, he was knocked completely off his feet and sent hurtling into the wall with a satisfying crack of bones.

  Luca now found himself all but surrounded. He stood panting and glaring at the mob for a moment. They too seemed to pause, or was it just his imagination? Perhaps they were now becoming aware that he would not make easy prey, and on some level were considering their next move. Or perhaps they were just a little slow at negotiating the fallen bodies. Either way the slight breather gave him time to consider. More had entered the ward cutting off any option of escape down the stairs and he was putting himself in jeopardy by remaining purely to vent his frustration. As they attacked anew he jumped as high as he could in the direction of the window. There was a small man blocking his path but Luca struck him in the chest, clearing the way for escape. He launched himself gracefully through the window and into the cool afternoon air. He paused on the sill to take stock of his position and the nearest of the diseased rushed forwards and swiped at him. Luca easily evaded the clumsy attack but grabbed the man by the wrist and hauled him out of the window, dropping him to his doom below.

  The distance to the ground seemed much too far to contemplate jumping so he found a convenient ledge from which he could access a pipe and shinned quickly up and to safety, leaving the angry cries behind.