Simeon landed on the far side of the roof and recovered instantly. He sprang back to his feet and saw his beleaguered friend in jeopardy. Had it been a mistake to prolong the encounter? A rush of heat spread through him as he charged. If his friend were to perish it would be down to his pride; he could not allow that. Rather he should die than his friend. He reached Darius just as Ricardo was struggling to hold the teeth away, an unfamiliar look of terror on his face. Simeon struck Darius with an almighty blow on the side of the head, knocking him away from his comrade and to his knees. Then he came on again and grabbed Darius by the sides of the head, keen to end the encounter. It had just been such an awfully long time since he had felt any real exhilaration, any proper challenge. It was nice to feel alive once again, but enough was enough. He braced and twisted, a sudden motion that should have snapped the vampire’s neck cleanly, severing the spinal column. It did not, however, have the desired effect. He felt a crunch of bones or ligaments beneath his hands but Darius resisted. He was strong, so strong, like nobody Simeon had ever encountered. His body tensed and sagged slightly. Then without even trying to remove the hands from the sides of his head he swiped across Simeon’s stomach. His claws bit deeply, slicing through cloth and flesh as one. Again Simeon tried to twist. Again there was a slight crunch but again, not enough and Darius slashed and cut his stomach once more.
Ricardo returned to the fracas now. He jumped and kicked out at Darius from behind. His foot cracked into the spine at the base of the neck, causing the aging vampire to judder as his body lurched forwards. Simeon tried to avoid the slicing claws and rotated the head again but he was struggling to get enough purchase. It was not the rapidity of Darius’s assault that had taken him by surprise; they all moved with dazzling speed, faster than a human could hope to contend with. He was ready for that, even welcoming it. No, it was Darius’s complete disregard for his own well-being, his sustained onslaught and his continuous aggression, even though he should be trying to defend himself. There was no thought to stop Simeon’s attempts at breaking his neck, almost as though that was immaterial. There was just an unremitting desire to kill that dictated his actions completely. His focus was absolute and unswerving. This was unsettling and made it very difficult for Simeon to actually attack him without receiving any injuries himself. Simeon changed his angle. He yanked Darius’s head sharply forwards and drove his knee into his face. He repeated it, and again, but all the while those talons cut into him, biting deep with every blow, and enraging Simeon further.
Still standing behind, Ricardo pounded away. Striking and slicing, but Darius did not even react, so focused was he on the larger prey in front of him. He suddenly lunged, trying to bring his lethal jaws in reach. Even kneeling as he was, he managed to exert extreme force and only the vice-like grip on his skull prevented him from sinking his incisors deep into flesh. Simeon grunted and flung himself to the side, pushing Darius away. With a choked chortle Darius sprang up but Ricardo this time was the faster. He leapt high and kicked out with both feet in Darius’s back. As large as the vampire was, nevertheless the blow lifted him off his feet and sent him careering through the air and over the side of the rooftop. He fell from view with an enraged roar, giving the two a moment’s pause.
Ricardo assessed his large friend with a rueful eye. His clothes were blood-stained and shredded, his chest heaved from the exertion, yet there was still that same wholehearted determination in his eyes that had always been there since the very start. When Ricardo had found Simeon he had been a soldier in the Ottoman Empire. Initially he had come from Bulgaria, conquered and occupied by the invaders, absorbed by their might, and put to use in their army. At first he had been just any other foot-soldier, but his size and prowess marked him out almost from the start and he became a Janissary, one of the elite infantry units that formed the household troops and Sultan’s bodyguard. His was never to be a life of normality. He had quickly been selected for special attention and had ended up as one of the Sultan’s champions, a close personal bodyguard, an exalted position only for the extreme few. This was entirely unsurprising as he was larger and stronger than almost everyone and his appetite for death was insatiable.
Ricardo had visited him in the silence of the night, in the privacy of the Janissaries’ dwellings. Avoiding detection was straightforward. There were guards but they were sleepy anyway and manipulating them into a trance was child’s play. He could merely have killed them, but this might have attracted attention. Sometimes the softer approach was the wiser. Simeon had been accommodated in his own modest quarters, reward for his service and his slaying, affording him an amount of luxury and privacy. He had been sleeping soundly but Ricardo drew a talon sharply across his cheek. The scratch woke him to anger. Ricardo smiled; a promising start. In the darkness Simeon could not see well and did not realise who his adversary was. As he jumped to his feet in immediate anger, Ricardo knocked him ‘softly’ across the jaw. Simeon’s considerable bulk arced through the air and he crashed against the wall. Ricardo now hesitated. What would the human’s reaction be? Now was the pivotal moment, now was the decider. If the human was scared and begged for his life then Ricardo would surely kill him instantly and mercilessly. In such a location, surrounded by so many humans it would be unwise to dally, or cause a commotion.
Fortunately for Simeon he was not cowed in the slightest. He was enraged. He attacked immediately, aggressively and completely ineffectively. Despite all his training and experience in the art of death, and despite his enormous human size, against Ricardo he was comparatively weak and slow, and Ricardo subdued him almost effortlessly. But Simeon’s reaction was enough to save his life and earn him a second one, full of adventure and possibility and blood. Ricardo was pleased. This was what he had sought. He was not interested in forming his own clan, per se. He had always been a loner at heart. He was not interested in ambition, and the internal politics associated with clan life held no allure for him. However, the vampyric years could be long without satisfactory companionship, and he knew only too well they could be cut short without another to watch one’s back. He had already appreciated the man’s size and undoubted strength. Now he had resolved his true nature and the basic instincts that guided him. This was truly a comrade to whether the tide, to face down the storm. This was someone worthy, with whom to share the spoils of the hunt.
Simeon’s first vampyric feeding reflected the attitude he had thrown unashamedly at his entire human life; wholehearted determination. To say he had merely drunk from his victim was to do him grave injustice. He had all but consumed his prey, leaving little for Ricardo. Ricardo had been delighted. He had selected well. That determined attitude remained in his new life and was just as prevalent now as back then; now when he faced his greatest test yet. This fight with Darius was not yet over. For the first time ever Simeon had wavered, but that hesitation had now gone. He would continue the battle to the end.
“It is time to go, my friend,” Ricardo said, but his voice was flat and lacked optimism. “We have faced adversity and enjoyed the experience. Let us not expose ourselves further. Please, let us take this opportunity to depart…” He faltered as the futility of his words became obvious.
“No. This is not yet over.” There was no leeway, no room for argument. Simeon was going to continue the fight. His doubt of a moment earlier had now been replaced by pride and anger. In either of his lives to date he had never been challenged to such an extent and he was loath to turn tail now. Rarely did he contradict his friend, which made the finality of his sentiments all the more inflexible. “I fight on.”
Ricardo sighed and watched as he strode determinedly to the parapet and dropped. He hesitated not for a second but followed immediately after his friend, towards the edge and over.
Darius was already standing, looking up and waiting. As Simeon landed he lashed out and struck him in the chest, sending him tumbling back and through the supermarket’s entrance. He went after with a snarl, into the shadows within. Ricardo landed a
moment later. The three grappled in the darkness. Darius’s teeth were inches from Simeon as he tried to rip his neck apart. Ricardo pounded at him, clawing and tearing. The two larger vampires fell to the floor and rolled. They crashed into produce displays and shelving units, sending them toppling. Packets and boxes burst open underneath. The fight ricocheted around the store, without their even noticing the carnage they were causing. Always Simeon kept one enormous fist fastened around Darius’s throat. He held him inches away with all the might he could muster. With the other, he too scratched and tore. Darius’s face was a bloody mess, but still he came on. His anger was undiminished and his thirst unquenched. In despair Ricardo went for his eyes. His fingers came close to the snapping teeth and for a moment Darius almost bit down upon his hand. Ricardo scratched and only then did the contaminated vampire release his grip. He bucked and bawled, rolling clear. Ricardo pulled his now-weary friend to his feet and propelled him away from the immediate danger, towards the rear of the store.
A moment later they turned to face the attack once more as Darius launched himself at them anew. They were now backed up against the delicatessen counter. As Darius lunged headlong Simeon took hold of a large meat slicing machine. He swung it in one hand. It was a sizeable object and it connected with Darius’s head forcefully, sending him crashing to the side. With strength slowly ebbing, Ricardo glanced at the meat counter. An array of cleavers had been left on the work surface. The longest of the blades must have been more than twelve inches long. Vampires did not like to resort to weapons. They viewed it as unnecessary and unsporting almost, against their ethos of life, but he felt he had no choice. He dived at the counter and grabbed the biggest before turning back to face their foe. He was now nearest and became the new focus of wrath.
Darius lunged forwards with a swipe but Ricardo dodged back. Again a lunge and again he darted just out of range. Slowly he was bringing himself around so that Darius had the delicatessen behind him, giving him less room to manoeuvre. He kept a couple of paces away from the old vampire, ready to spring out of range the moment Darius moved. Darius glared at him through baleful eyes. One more lunge was all that was needed. Simeon had hung back and realised what was happening. He gave a swift boot to the stomach, being careful to remain clear of the claws. Darius slammed into the work surface. He recovered immediately. With a growl he darted forwards. Dodging the fist and the biting jaws, Ricardo raised the cleaver and swung it hard. It bit deeply into Darius’s arm. He screamed. His forearm hung at an odd angle but he did not seem to register any pain, just the same, indisputable rage. Simeon vaulted the counter and quickly reached over. He grabbed Darius’s shoulders from behind, holding him fast. Darius struggled but just for the moment he could not move and was entirely vulnerable to attack. He reared and twisted but Simeon gripped as hard as he could, pulling him tight against the worksurface. Ricardo stepped back, preparing to end the fight. A sudden shadow and a sound made him pause. He tensed and span around.
“Well, what have we here?” Farzin asked, smiling. He had entered quietly, and being so preoccupied they had not noticed his approach. “It seems you have been busy,” he said with a sneer.
Darius roared his displeasure. Clearly he remembered his feelings of anger and vengeance. He struggled with renewed vigour to break free and attack Farzin, but Simeon held on for all he was worth. Farzin flinched despite himself and took a step backwards but quickly recovered his composure.
There was the sound of rasping breath from behind him and he looked over his shoulder. An infected had followed him in. A man in his early thirties looking emaciated approached rapidly. He was now a dozen paces away and closing fast. Without hesitation Farzin stooped and picked up a can from the floor, a four hundred gram tin of baked beans. He cast it like a missile and had returned his attention to the scene by the delicatessen counter before the can had even made contact. It exploded into the man’s head, lifting him off his feet, sending him backwards through the air. He landed in the melted mush of the frozen vegetables freezer, his legs protruding and quivering. The last fetid breath from his lungs escaped and mingled with the funk of decaying food.
“Perhaps a little sport is in order,” Farzin said slyly.
“What?” Ricardo was not quite sure he had understood correctly.
“There’s no need to finish this too quickly. It seems that we have the situation under control. Why not enjoy the ending of this once great leader?”
“You mean Simeon holds him down whilst we torture him? Chop him to pieces with meat cleavers?” Ricardo was weary. They had laid themselves decidedly too open to the risk of death, and now Farzin wanted to prolong the fight to satisfy his sadistic cravings? Ricardo stood for a second and then in answer he suddenly whipped around. He brought the cleaver about in a wide arc and sliced straight through Darius’s neck. Bone, cartilage and tendon, the blade passed cleanly through it all, separating head from body. At the end of the movement he released the cleaver, sending it hurtling through the air. It whistled past Farzin’s ear and embedded itself in a wall just over his shoulder. The blade buried four inches into the brick.
Darius’s eyes rolled back and a gasp escaped him. His mouth opened as though to protest his demise but his lips pulled back and no further words came out. He started to shudder so violently that the work-surface rattled. Simeon’s grip was shaken loose. He recoiled in horror as the despoiling effect of time caught up with Darius’s body, all at once. It ravaged his limbs and distorted them to awkward angles. There was a soft howling sound that emanated from within as he slumped backwards. His head toppled forwards and hit the floor with a thump, rolling until it came to rest near Farzin’s feet.
“And so the passing of a once-great leader. You would have done well to listen to me, old fool,” Farzin hissed. “Well I guess that answers my question then,” he now smirked. “Come my friends, we have plans to make. I suspect we all need sustenance and there are humans still out there just waiting for us.”
The gates were thrown open by Group Captain Denny himself and the vehicles rushed through. There was no time for lengthy debriefs, nor to check anyone for bites. Vida was taken immediately to receive first aid with Senior Aircraftman Ric Masters in tow. Lewis took a deep breath and prepared himself for activity. Hasty decisions were needed. Squadron Leader Singleton emerged from the mess.
“Are you okay?” she asked with a look of horror as she saw the injuries that the soldiers had incurred. “How did it go out there?”
He shook his head, unable to bring himself to talk about it just yet. “Later,” he muttered and she nodded, understanding perfectly. A quick head count was hardly necessary for her to confirm the grim reality. Her eyes grew misty and she turned, blinking hard and lowering her face as she hurried away.
Most of the soldiers needed medical attention as the majority had received knocks and scrapes at the very least. Lewis could hardly concentrate whilst being seen to. As Corporal Newman tried to apply a bandage to his arm he brushed him aside in irritation, jumped to his feet and rushed out of the medical unit uttering something unintelligible. Singleton watched him depart with real concern in her eyes. After a moment she turned to Sergeant Straddling who was being attended to just behind her.
Straddling found him outside, leaning against a sycamore tree, staring at the perimeter walls of the station. He cleared his throat as he approached and Lewis looked around. When he saw his sergeant he frowned and tensed. The pain in his chest from the fight in the presbytery was making him irritable. He had general aches all over his body. At least one rib was quite possibly cracked, or bruised at best, and he was in no mood for confrontation. Straddling raised his palms and stopped short.
“I come in peace.” He gave a subdued smile and took a step nearer. Lewis relaxed. Perhaps the man had realised that the need to build bridges was more pressing than individual grudges, that cohesion was the only way to survive. Lewis felt as though he had already put up with a lot from his irascible sergeant but somehow he had to m
uster the enthusiasm to try once more for the good of them all. He needed Straddling to be on his side, not to be at loggerheads with him.
“Listen,” Lewis started hesitantly, “back in the chapel, when you arrived and gave us covering fire, I think you probably saved our bacon. I’m not sure if we’d all have made it out alive otherwise. I know you risked your life making your way to the church to our defence. It would have been easier and safer for you to remain where you were in the Landy. So thanks. Thanks a lot.”
“Ah, ney bother.” Straddling looked briefly at his feet and shifted. “All in a day’s work. At the end of the day we’re soldiers and that’s what we do.” He was not very good at accepting compliments. He coughed. “I was just wondering, in the medical centre you seemed a little preoccupied. What’s on your mind… boss?”
The significance of the last word was not missed by Lewis and he hoped it meant an end to hostility and to the constant questioning of his authority. By all means he welcomed different points of view; that was healthy and to be encouraged. But ultimately they had to maintain discipline, cohesion and a chain of command.
“We’ve got to get out of here, Lewis replied quickly. “Those vampire creatures know where we are and you can bet your bottom dollar they’ll be gunning for revenge. If we stay here we don’t stand a chance.” He paused, expecting a barrage of arguments and complaints.
Twice Bitten, Twice Die (The Blood of the Infected Book 3) Page 11