by P. L. Kurup
Amelia lay on the ground, a cut to her knee and her body quivering. A crowd of people surrounded her, their voices ringing with concern.
“Are you alright?” one of them asked.
“Who helped me?” she hissed.
One or two shook their heads.
“We don’t know what you mean, dear,” an old lady replied.
“Someone pulled me from the road. Who was it?”
“No one did,” a man responded. “You leapt to the pavement on your own.”
“Of course I did. I remember now.” Amelia got back on her feet and limped away in some distress.
Her mind rattled with the encounter. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that she didn’t imagine the rescue. She stopped before the gates of St Luke’s hospital and examined her hand. Her eyebrows knitted when she saw four moderately sized fingers imprinted on her palm. Amelia’s gaze flittered around, yet all she saw were Londoners going about their day.
xxx
By the time she waltzed into the chalk-coloured reception of the hospital the Professor’s tutorial had begun. People of every description zipped passed her, but she paid no attention to them. St Luke’s newly constructed oval-shaped reception area with contemporary furnishings did little to appease her worries either. She rushed up three flights of stairs and stormed into a side room.
Inside, five of her classmates and Professor Stevens sat in a semicircle and gawped at her for disturbing them. The refuge was less spacious than Mrs Baker’s room, and comprised a single bookshelf, a desk and a chair.
“So nice of you to join us, Miss Thorpe,” Professor Stevens said.
His sarcastic tone a sign of displeasure.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Amelia apologised. “I got caught up in traffic.”
“Oliver Tristrum, bed 12,” Professor Stevens said. “That’s who I want you to speak to today. Take down his history, do a cursory examination, and report your findings. In future try to be on time.”
Amelia nodded and she and her fellow students left the office, and wandered into the archaic corridors of St Luke’s Hospital. The area resonated with the buzz of hospital trolleys. The smell of antiseptic and cleaning fluid gave off a sickening aroma that revolted her immensely. The students crossed into ‘Ward K’ at the end of the hall.
The unit had eight beds on each side, and windows draped with thick green curtains. The pure white walls shimmered in the afternoon light, giving the place an otherworldly feel. While her colleagues dispersed around the ward, Amelia walked to bed twelve, the last in the row. Approaching the cot, she saw a man whose throat was bandaged. Blood transfused into his veins from a plastic blood bag on a stand, and wires hooked him to a heartrate monitor.
Though his eyes were open his head was tilted to the wall, and she tiptoed away, believing he didn’t want to speak to her.
“Please don’t go. I need someone to talk to,” a weary voice said.
She turned back to see the man had sad eyes and greying hair.
“I’ll be happy to talk to you,” she agreed, sitting next to him.
Inspecting him, she discovered that his skin was a stony grey and his pupils dilated – two symptoms of blood loss.
“My name is Amelia Thorpe,” she began. “I’m a final year medical student and I’m here to ask you some questions. Can you tell me what happened, Mr. Tristrum?”
“You won’t believe me if I told you,” he answered.
“How do know unless you tell me?” she replied.
“They attacked me and left me when they had their fill.” His fingers clenched the bedsheets.
“Had their fill?” she queried.
“Vampires,” he muttered.
The monitor beeped faster as his heartrate increased.
“Calm down, Mr. Tristrum. No one’s going to hurt you here. If it was a crime you can report it to the police,” Amelia said.
“The police are useless. No one can help me.”
“If you wish I can get someone to give you a sedative. It will help you sleep,” she suggested.
“I don’t want a sedative. I need to get out of here.”
Amelia saw fear in his eyes. He was a helpless child that no one believed.
“Vampires don’t exist, Mr. Tristrum. They’re made up. Like werewolves or demons.”
“I will show you something and then you will see,” he said.
He pulled down the bandages around his neck, and beneath the dressing was a wound comprising two dots, a half a centimetre apart. For a few seconds she found herself unable to speak. Then gave him a placid smile and resumed her bedside manner.
“There is nothing to worry about, sir,” she reassured him. “No one is going to harm you.”
Oliver grabbed her arm and held it too tightly for her to free herself. “I am not safe here and neither are you. London is crawling with them. You should flee before it’s too late.”
He loosened his grip and she yanked back her hand and marched out of the ward, her face gleaming with perspiration.
“Amelia, are you all right?” Professor Stevens asked, passing her by.
“To be honest I think I may be coming down with something,” Amelia replied.
“Take the rest of the day off and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Professor Stevens said.
“Thank you, sir. I will.”
She hurried through bustling corridors and didn’t stop until she entered the toilets.
Facing the mirror, she lowered her collar to expose her neck. Her eyes traced the two dots imprinted there, and her breath hastened since they were identical to Tristrum’s. Her mobile phone rang and she plucked it from her pocket to see it was Stuart calling her. Gulping at the prospect of bad news, she answered, “Yes, Stuart?”
“My sister wants me to help her move so I’m closing the café tonight,” Stuart said. “You’ve got yourself a holiday until tomorrow.”
He disconnected and Amelia refocused on her neck scars debating the reasons for their existence.
xxx
She caught the evening train home. The compartment she was in was packed with people, and though uncomfortable and noisy, she relished being in the company of others. The journey allowed her to reminisce about Mr Tristrum’s assertion that vampires roamed the streets of London. The idea was so ludicrous she didn’t know whether to chuckle or feel sorry for him. His words refused to leave her, but as the train trundled into Victoria station, another thought invaded her, that of the man in the long black coat. The train came to a halt and she disembarked onto a platform full of people, but not one of them was him. Bolstered by the normality, she half skipped to the exit and walked home.
A relentless drizzle pelted her face and soaked her hair as she went down her street. She jogged the last mile getting soggier by the second, and arrived at her flat, where a leering shadow lurked by the door.
“Who’s there?” she demanded.
A man with a stubble stepped forward.
“Your rent is three weeks late,” answered Mr Crisp, Amelia’s landlord.
“I should be able to give it to you by Wednesday when I get paid,” bargained Amelia.
“Put it this way, if I haven’t received payment by this time next week I will evict you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Amelia unlocked her door, walked into her flat, and slammed the door in Mr Crisp’s face.
Regaining a modicum of dignity, she peered out the window to find an empty and uneventful street.
“Vampires.” She chortled.
Chapter 3
Someone tugged on Amelia’s bedsheets and she woke to find Oliver Tristrum standing at the foot of her bed. He was dressed in his hospital gown and blood dripped from his neck and wrists. Grasping the bedsheets, she stared ahead in horror.
“What-What are you doing here?” she asked him.
“I came to tell you again to leave London as soon as possible. If you don’t you will suffer the same fate as me.”
She jolted awake and
looked round her flat to find everything as it should be. The clock read five thirty am meaning she’d woken up too early. Lectures didn’t begin until noon and her shift at the café wouldn’t start until seven pm. Her mind drifted to Oliver Tristrum and she picked up her phone and dialled a number.
“Ward K please... This is Amelia Thorpe. I would like to know how Mr Tristrum’s doing,” she said. “Hello? Is anybody there?”
Since there was no reply she disconnected the phone, took a quick shower, and got dressed in a hurry. Dashing outside, she zipped down the frost-covered pavement and headed to the station. The deserted streets failed to faze her this morning, and when she arrived at Victoria Station she found the building empty again. She boarded the six am train and saw her compartment occupied by a young woman reading a spy novel. She appeared the same age as her and had dark brown hair tied back with a metal clip.
“It’s a nightmare catching the train so early isn’t it?” she told Amelia.
“It certainly is,” Amelia replied. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I hate being alone.”
“Likewise.”
The lady gave her a smile and returned to her novel. Throughout the journey, Amelia couldn’t get Mr Tristrum’s ghostly form out of her mind. The look of anguish on his face seemed too real for a dream. When the train stopped at King’s Cross she stepped down from it as soon as she could and marched to St Luke’s hospital.
Arriving at the hospital entrance, she stopped abruptly as she laid eyes on three young men standing near the door. All three appeared pale and gaunt, and had blood red lips that seemed as if they were soaked in blood. The tallest of the three opened the door for her and she slipped inside as fast as she could. After three steps, she glanced back to find the men had vanished.
She put them out of her mind, bounded up three flights of stairs, marched down the long corridor, and arrived at ward K. The ward buzzed with staff members going about their duties and a couple of the nurses nodded to her as they went by. She paid no attention to them and headed to the end of the room where Mr Tristrum’s bed was.
Arriving there, Amelia was bewildered to find a middle-aged Chinese lady in Mr Tristrum’s place. The woman barked reprimands in her native Mandarin, and forced Amelia to leave at once. Amelia raced through the ward, and had almost reached the outer corridor, when Nurse Howard pulled her to one side.
“What are you doing here?” quizzed the grey-haired nurse. “Student rounds aren’t for another three days.”
“I...I wanted to see how Mr Tristrum was doing,” she stuttered.
“Mr Tristrum passed away last night.”
“What?”
“He had a cardiac arrest and is lying in the morgue as we speak,” Nurse Howard informed her.
“But he was well. He was going to get better...”
“Amelia, patients die. It’s best if you learn that lesson now.”
“You’re right,” Amelia said. “I’ll try not to get too emotional about it.”
She maintained her composure when leaving Nurse Howard’s side and while walking through the corridor and reception, but the moment she left the hospital, she leaned against a brick wall and fought back tears. I should’ve done more to save him, she repeated to herself.
“Are you alright?” a man asked her.
She sucked in her breath because it was the man from the café and the train platform. His deep, resonating voice unmistakable. She didn’t know why he was stalking her and wished he would leave her alone. Amelia turned and jumped at the sight of Adrian Talbot standing before her.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped.
“I came to see how Mary was. She’s my patient. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Mr Tristrum died last night. He was going to get better, but this morning they told me he passed away,” Amelia explained.
“Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.” Adrian took her arm and they strolled across the car park and arrived at a coffee house packed with students and hospital professionals.
They took the seat in the corner like Samuel had at Stu’s café. Adrian bought her a filter coffee and she sipped the cup, burning her tongue in the process.
“I’m sorry for being so dismissive yesterday. Lack of sleep can do that to you,” she said.
“I understand how difficult it is to pay your tuition fees. But in a few months’ time you’ll be earning a decent wage.”
Amelia stared wide-eyed, recalling the nine thousand pound fees she needed to pay in order to carry on. “You’re right.”
They spent the next few hours chatting and he succeeded in calming her down. Amelia bit her lower lip as she realised how badly she’d treated him.
“Quarter to twelve,” Adrian uttered. “We better get going lest we incur the Professor’s wrath.
She and Adrian left the coffee house and strolled through narrow alleyways to arrive at the lecture hall for their next lesson. Strolling in, Amelia was on the verge of retreating to her usual seat at the back, when Adrian cajoled her into the front row. Professor Stevens came in shortly and commenced the lecture. Though her eyes trained on her teacher, her mind dwelled on Mr Tristrum.
xxx
The lecture progressed with its usual brilliance and when it ended Adrian said, “Would you like to go for dinner? Anything you like.”
“I have to work until 11,” she replied, standing up. “But perhaps another time.”
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and dashed away, wanting nothing more than to leave the crowded arena.
xxx
She arrived in time for her shift and barged into the café through the back door. After giving Stuart a placid smile, she hung up her coat and donned an emerald green apron. No sooner had she done so than the doorbell chimed indicating the arrival of a customer. Amelia rushed to the main area and set eyes on a family of four seated at table nine.
“What would you like?” she enquired, notepad at the ready.
The family rabbited an array of dishes and Amelia took down their order with a courteous grin.
The evening rush came and went, and she found herself too busy to think about Mr Tristrum, her overdue rent, the nine thousand pound university fees she owed, or the stranger she saw just twice.
xxx
The clock struck eleven pm and when the last customer left Amelia gathered their plates and retreated to the kitchen. There, she found Stuart washing soiled dishes. Amelia changed into her coat and placed her neatly folded apron on the counter.
“I was wondering if you could give me an advance of £200?” she asked him.
Stuart dropped the plate he was washing and turned to her with a solemn gaze.
“Why would I do that?” he questioned.
“Because... you see my rent is overdue.”
“I’m afraid not. If I gave you a raise I won’t have enough to pay the suppliers. And then where will I be?”
“But I’m desper...” The doorbell rang and she stopped midsentence.
“Go and tell them we’re closed,” Stuart dictated.
Amelia walked back to the eating area to find three men sitting at table four. She recognised them as the pale, gaunt men who’d blocked her path earlier, but appeared unmoved.
“The café is closed so you have to leave,” she said firmly.
“But you’re the reason we’re here,” Claude, their tall, thin leader stated.
“If you don’t leave I will have to call the police,” she threatened.
The men chuckled and Amelia frowned at them.
“The police won’t save you, that cowardly boss of yours won’t save you. So I’m afraid Amelia, you’re doomed,” said Claude.
“How do you know my name?” she asked, edging back.
“Because as vampires we’re blessed with the ability to read mortal thoughts,” Anthony, the shortest of the three explained.
“You’re the ones who killed Oliver Tristrum,” she muttered.
“I’m afraid so. His blood was so de
licious I really wished the poor man didn’t have to die,” replied Fred, a boy of nineteen.
She glanced to the kitchen and saw Stuart peeking round the wall. She dashed Stuart’s way, when Claude reached her in a flash, grabbed her by the neck, and plunged his teeth into her carotid artery. While he did so, Fred bolted to her left wrist and fed from it.
“I want the left one,” Anthony screeched, trying to pry the limb from Fred. Fred hissed at Anthony who drew back in alarm.
Amelia felt her life ebb away and knew she was close to death.
In her delirious state, she saw the door open and a man walking in. Flickering images revealed Fred and Anthony being impaled in the chest by wooden stakes, and Claude scurrying out of the café.
The last thing she saw was the blurred image of the man walking her way.
Chapter 4
Samuel carried Amelia across his arms and walked into the kitchen. He ignored Stuart who cowered beside the cooker, and left the café through the back door. The streets were empty save for a couple leaving a posher eatery than the café. They frowned on seeing Samuel carrying Amelia.
“I’m afraid she got a bit drunk,” he said, passing the pair.
He ran through the deserted streets with staggering speed, and reached a grey Mercedes Benz parked on a corner. He opened the front passenger seat, eased Amelia into it, and fastened the seatbelt. In a matter of seconds he sat in the driver’s seat and started the car. He then drove the car through the maze of roads and arrived on a lane surrounded by fields. Once there, Samuel pressed his foot on the accelerator and the car flew down the road, covering miles in minutes.
An hour later, the busy city streets were replaced by quiet county roads circumvented by acres of barren land. Samuel heard the drip drip of blood trickling from her neck, and knew that time was running out. The car approached Grace-rose Manor, a colossal mansion with dozens of windows and acres of land. It had a bleakness to it and was lacking in colour and warmth. After parking the Mercedes near a small flight of steps, he strode out, opened the passenger door, plucked Amelia out with the gentleness of a new born baby, and carried her into the house.