Jud jumped at the fence and tried to swing his legs over. He had never been that fit and barely got his leg on top. He grunted with the effort as he pulled and tried to get over. He was making too much noise, but was oblivious to everything but the fence. His body inched up until he had one leg either side, and with a slight move he rolled over and landed on the floor. His momentum kept him going, and he rolled down the bank towards the road. He hit something and it fell on top of him, pinning him. He struggled and shouted. He felt hands clawing for his face. It was a zombie. It had been knocked over and was trying to turn to face him. He could hear the click as its teeth snapped together. Without realising what he was doing, he pushed it off, kicked it away with his legs, and ran.
The other zombies, attracted by the noise, were closing in on him. He screamed as a hand brushed his shoulder, then a face appeared and teeth just missed his nose. He pushed the creature away and ran harder. The ramp down to the station was full of shuffling, snapping zombies. He headed for the bridge over the track and flung himself from it. There was a crack from his left ankle as he landed badly, and was catapulted forward, his face hitting the track. His nose flattened and his vision filled with a bright light. He was struggling to stay conscious, but if he passed out that was the end.
He stood up and tried to walk but was rewarded by a bolt of agony as he put his injured foot down. The bile rose in his stomach. He took a stumbling step, then another. He tried to ignore the pain, but it was there at every movement, fresh and bad. The zombies on the ramp had turned around and were heading for him. He heard the sickening slap as they fell from the platform onto the track, leaving red smears behind. He stumbled on. He was barely moving faster than them, but slowly he increased his lead until he could see the open space of the pit in front. He pushed through some of the bushes to put an obstacle between him and his pursuers. Surely they would break off the chase if they lost sight of him.
***
It had been a few hours since the run in with the zombies. Jud had made his way to the top of the hill in the middle of the pit. From there he had a good view all around. It was starting to get dark, but Jud had spotted a Land Rover, it belonged to the park patrol. He had been watching it for a while, and so far had not seen anything near it. If he could get it started his immediate problems would be solved. He approached it. The driver’s door was open and there was blood leaking to the floor. Where there were drag marks, and lots of bloody paw prints. Jud looked inside, ready to close the door if anything leapt at him; it was empty. He got in and shut the door. He felt safer with the door closed, but if it wouldn't start it could soon become his tomb. The keys were still in the ignition. He said a little prayer to himself and twisted the key. The engine turned over, but refused to start. The battery was good, but the engine reeked of petrol. It was flooded. He made sure the choke was pushed in was about to turn the key again when he was distracted by a noise.
He looked out of the windscreen. On the bonnet, with its head lowered looking back, was a dog. Its muzzle was matted with blood, and its entrails were hanging out from an open wound on its stomach. Was it a zombie? Could dogs be zombies? It wasn't slow and shuffling like the human creatures, it moved fast. It snapped at the windscreen. Jud jumped back. There was a scratching from the driver’s door. Another dog was on it's back legs looking through the window. Jud tried the engine again. Nothing. There was a crack from the driver’s door as the dog threw itself against the window. Jud lay down on the seat to keep away from the window. Bang! The dog threw itself again. The window couldn't take much more. Jud looked around the cab, desperate for something that could help.
Hidden under the steering column was a switch. Some of the council’s vehicles had hidden ignition kill switches. Jud pressed it, held it, and tried the ignition again. The engine roared to life. There was a loud crack from the driver’s door window. It had finally broken and the dog’s jaws smashed though snapping and snarling. Jud could smell the sickly sweet odour of decomposing flesh, and flinched as spittle flew into his face. He threw the gear into reverse and floored the accelerator. The car lurched backwards, flinging the dog from the bonnet. Jud was thrown around as the Land Rover bounced over the rough ground. As soon as he was clear of the dogs, he turned the car and started heading towards the main road. He clipped a post as he turned past the fishing pond and skidded on loose gravel as he bounced onto the road. He was clear and could head through "Harthill" and into the country.
***
The Land Rover lurched to a stop. Jud had driven to Beighton Hospital. It wasn't in the country, but he had realised that if there was anyone left in charge, that's where they would be. Barriers had been placed across the entrance, and around the building was coiled barbed wire. There were zombies stuck in the barbed wire, all motionless. They had been stabbed in the head. Every twenty meters pairs of soldiers patrolled. It was the first sign of civilisation that he had seen. He had made it. If he got in there he would be safe. He went to drive on, but something was wrong, he couldn't remember what to do.
He looked at the controls, it all seemed strange and confusing. Must be the headache, maybe a migraine. It had started coming on in the last half hour. He went to open the door, but he didn't know how. He banged at the door, and clawed at it. His hand caught the release and the door opened and he tumbled out. He'd cut his hands and his right arm. He tried to stand up, but he was moving slowly. It felt like he was going to pass out. He started to move towards the hospital. He was shuffling and stumbling. He could see the guards. They watched his approach. He saw them running towards him. At last, he was going to get the help he needed.
"Help me, I need help, I'm think I'm going to pass out," Judd shouted at the guards.
The first one approached. The guard held his arms out, he was going to catch him. The searing pain hit Jud like a bolt, and he was shocked to see the guard pull his blood-covered hand back.
"What are you doing to me?" Jud asked.
The other guard arrived and pushed the first guard aside. He took out his bayonet and stabbed Jud through his eye. "You have to do it through the brain, you moron, or you just tickle them.”
"It just feels wrong, though. Can they feel anything?" the first guard said.
"No, they're just walking corpses, did you hear him growling? No intelligence there. You'll get used to it, mate, there's plenty more to kill before we've finished."
The End
Homo Sanguinis
The rain bounced off the windscreen. Clive leaned forward, squinting to see through the window. His wipers were on the fastest setting, and it still was not enough. He was on his way back from Castleton, heading home after a successful house viewing. Estate agent may not be the sexiest job in the world, but it paid his bills for the last twenty years. Normally, it didn’t require him to go this far, though.
What a night to drive back on these windy, country roads, he thought.
Looking to the side, he could just make out the reservoir through the tree line. He hadn’t driven out here since he was a young man, and that was over twenty years ago.
Twenty years. Where does the time go?
The engine coughed and started to miss. Clive pumped his foot on the throttle, trying to encourage a response. He’d had the car for eight years, it was about time for a new one, but he didn’t like change.
‘Come on! Come on! Not now, not out here.’
Silence, just the rumbling of the tyres as the engines died. Then the lights went out. Clive reached into the glovebox to retrieve his torch. That was dead, too. What the hell was happening? He opened the door and got out. Hovering over the car was a ship. It looked like an alien ship. It was triangular, black, with little windows down the side. Clive wanted to run, but was rooted to the spot. Not sure if it was fear or fascination.
A light emerged from the ship, and Clive felt a rushing of wind. Then nothing.
***
Clive felt cold steel beneath his back. He was lying down. The a
ir felt cold. Peeking through his eyelids, he could make out a few details. The room was plain. Medical looking machines surrounded him, and standing over him were men in surgical gowns. They had placed tubes in his arms. A drip bag was by his side, but it looked to be full of blood, and getting fuller. One of the surgeons was checking the tube in his arm, and put an object down. It was small and oblong, like a USB dongle. The surgeon finished his work and moved away, leaving the object behind.
Clive carefully reached down and closed his hand around it. Squeezing it tight. As he touched it, the surgeons flickered once, then were replaced by little grey aliens. Clive gasped. One of the creatures heard and turned around, examining him. It came across, leaned close to Clive’s face. Clive remained still. It emitted a musty aroma. Satisfied, the grey thing walked over to a control panel and pressed a screen.
Clive was back beside his car. Above his head was a whirlpool, spinning slowly, distorting the sky beside it. Clive stood up, ready to run. He felt like he was being toyed with. Something fell from his hand, landing on the floor. The triangular ship was back. It had appeared like a light being turned on. Then it blinked out again. At the same time, the car headlights came on. Clive reached down and retrieved the object he had dropped. It was the little box from the surgeon's table. But, even stranger, was the fact that the road was now dry.
***
The next few days had been like a bad dream for Clive. He had returned home to find out that there were seven hours he couldn’t account for. Too tired to work, he had called in sick. First time in five years. He’d called the police and they had shown passing interest. Promising to look into it in the same sentence as asking if he had been drinking. His friends had been no better. They had insinuated that he’d been overworked, stressed, needed to take a break. Maybe he did? But the object was real. He hadn’t got it when he left the house.
The local paper had been more interested, running a small story and including a picture of the object. They had wanted to keep it, get it tested, but Clive could not let it out of his sight. It felt important, as if his life depended on it. The news reporter had been forwarding emails to Clive from interested parties. Mostly from crankcases or UFO researchers.
One was different. It had simply said, ‘For the truth about Homo Sanguinis Click Here. From a friend.’ Clive hadn’t felt like clicking anything at the time.
It was on the third day after the event that it happened. There were three knocks on the door. He opened it. On the porch were two men in black suits. Behind them was an old Black Zephyr. As they talked, it was like a bad movie. Their lips didn’t appear to be in sync with the sound.
“Mr Clive Anderson?” the men asked.
“Yes. Who are you? Do you have warrant cards or something?”
“Mr Anderson, you came into possession of government property. We want it back.”
Clive found it difficult to look directly at them. He felt a compulsion to look away. On the wall, beside the door, was a full length mirror. By looking at the men through that, he could take in some details. They were tall. Tall and thin. Abnormally so, they looked out of proportion. Their skin was pale, almost albino, as if they had never seen the sun. Their eyes were jet black, and never appeared to blink. It took Clive a second or two for him to realise something else. They were identical. Not like twins, but everything. Their faces. Their eyes. Their clothes. Even their mouths. When one spoke, both their mouths moved.
Government property? What government property? The object, the dongle? Without realising what he was doing, he turned and looked at the phone table below the mirror. The dongle was there. He had left it, after calling in sick at work. In the mirror, he could see the men had followed his gaze. He made a quick grab for the dongle. The men blinked out and in their place were two grey creatures, short, about four foot. They had thin arms and legs, large heads, and large almond-shaped eyes. They looked like the grey aliens he had seen in all those bad science fiction films. Except the mouths. They had small, slit-like mouths, but two long sharp teeth hanging from the upper jaw.
The greys looked at each other, then moved towards Clive, coming into the house. They opened their mouths and hissed. Clive backed away. It was daylight. This sort of thing didn’t happen. Not in daylight, not in a street in England. A siren shattered the silence as an ambulance came flying up the road, stopping at Clive’s house.
The creatures looked around. They appeared startled. They took one last look at Clive, then turned and walked out. They returned to their car, which had now turned into a small spinning whirlpool. They stepped in, and it shrank until it vanished. Clive sagged back, and gasped. He hadn’t realised it, but he had been holding his breath. He needed to get out. Whatever they were, they knew his address. How had they found it? They knew what he had, and they knew that he saw through their disguise. But what were they? Aliens? He needed somewhere safe to gather his thoughts. Somewhere, anywhere, other than here.
Clive remembered the house in Castleton. The viewing before his world had been turned upside down. It was still empty, no offer had been made, and he still had the key. He could stay there for a while and look for a solution. Someone must know something. He couldn’t be the only one. Remembering the email from ‘a friend,’ he looked at his phone. Home Sanguinis? Maybe, when he was safe, it was time to click that link.
***
The house in Castleton was a small terraced house. Quite old, and a little small for his tastes, but the view and location more than made up for it. He sat on the floor in the living room. There was no furniture, and Clive was having to make do. He had brought his laptop, and luckily the next door neighbours had an unsecured WiFi connection. He opened his emails and found the one he was looking for. He paused with his finger hovering over the mouse button. This could be the answer, or it could be a waste of time. He clicked.
His address bar kept changing. Showing different addresses before changing to another. He was getting bounced from page to page. Then unavailable appeared in the address bar, but a page loaded anyway. It had a picture of one of the aliens, with the title, ‘Homo Sanguinis.’ Clive read on. He was hooked. If it was real, it was amazing. If it was a hoax, it was excellent.
According to the site, Homo Sanguinis were one of the Hominid Species on Earth. Along with Homo Erectus, and Homo Neanderthal, they had evolved along a different path. They had evolved to be blood suckers, living off the blood of other Hominids. They did not have the skin pigments of the other species, and so had to avoid ultraviolet light. They had a long life span, five hundred years was the estimate. Because of this, they had advanced quicker. Their technology was far in advance of our own.
They were hunted by the other humans, and given various names throughout history: vampires, elves, goblins, and now aliens. They had hidden from the rest of the world, firstly in underground caverns, and now in another Earth in another dimension, where it was perpetual twilight.
Clive rubbed his eyes. Could this be true? Could there really be a higher intelligence on the planet, albeit in another dimension? The Sanguinis still fed on human blood, but now they dragged the humans to their dimension first. They took some blood, put a tracking chip in, and sent them back. The chip enabled them to keep targeting the same people, rather than risk detection by taking too many. They disguised themselves, and their portals with a holographic projector.
Clive’s thoughts were interrupted by a video call coming through his laptop. The face of a Sanguini appeared on the screen.
“Don’t be alarmed,” it said. ‘I am not your enemy. My name would be too hard for you to pronounce. Just call me John Doe. I am a friend, I am here to help you.’
“Why do you want to help?” Clive asked.
“There are a few Sanguinis in my dimension that believe we shouldn’t be harvesting human blood. We believe that we can make artificial blood without harming humans. But, the older ones want to continue. They are the leaders. They believe we should take blood directly, with our t
eeth, like in the old days, instead of feeding from bags. They believe we are strong enough, and advanced enough, to take our place on this planet. I think they are wrong, it would cause a war. That is why I am contacting the abductees, getting them to understand the danger they are in. Have you removed the tracker?” John asked.
The unexpected question caught Clive by surprise. Of course, that's how they new how to find him. But then a new thought came to him. That meant he was not safe. That meant they could just as easily find him here.
“Have you removed your tracker?” John repeated.
“No,” Clive answered. “How do I find it?”
“Look for a new mole, that’s how they hide the injection. You'll need to find someone with steady hands to cut just below the surface… Are you still there?” John asked.
John was staring at his monitor from his abandoned factory. Where the man had been were two Sanguinis, with a portal behind them. One of the Sanguinis looked at the screen and spoke.
“I know you.”
John broke the connection.
***
Clive hit the floor with a thump. He blinked in surprise. Floating six foot in the air was a vortex, already shrinking and closing down. It was murky. It appeared to be dusk. There were trees, and leaves on the ground. It was damp. He realised that he had been plucked again. Had John transported him? But why here? Why in the middle of nowhere? He had a bad feeling. Everything appeared Earthlike, but at the same time alien. There were trees, but the leaves were more reddish, and the bark was smooth. The air smelt musty and damp, like a wet dog.
Testing his legs, he got to his feet, they were sore, but supported his weight. He walked into the woods, wondering what his next move could be. If John had brought him, then where was he? If the Sanguinis had brought him, then why? Not for harvest. Not out here. Had something gone wrong and he landed here in error, or was it something else? John’s conversation came back to him. What was it he had said about the old ones? They wanted to go back to the old ways? Taking blood directly with their teeth?
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