King Carrion
Page 11
He swung the axe with all the strength he could muster, but King Carrion grabbed his arm and crushed the thin bones in his wrist. Mason dropped the axe and screamed as searing bolts of pain ran up his arm and into his shoulder. He thought his arm would be wrenched from its sockets. The air was taken from his lungs. And he watched, utterly helpless, as the vampire king took his broken arm and with one movement of its mouth bit his hand clean off, so that all remained was the squirting stump of his wrist.
Mason only had time to clasp his remaining hand over the stump before King Carrion used its black claws to slash open his stomach. He stumbled away, screaming with white-hot agony with his bleeding wrist tucked in his left armpit while he tried to keep his guts from spilling over his feet. Underneath him, the tremors and vibrations grew stronger. The building shook and dust fell from overhead beams.
He was halfway up a metal stairway to the upper walkways when the windows blew inwards. The vampires screamed, lacerated by flying glass, then scattered. Mason cowered on the stairway, dipping his face to his chest and closing his eyes.
When he opened them and looked across the floor below, he saw King Carrion skittering towards him, flitting between concrete and steel pillars like a dark apparition. Mason got to his feet and climbed the stairs. On the metal walkway, feet clanging, he staggered towards another, shorter, stairway that gave access to the roof.
When he reached the second stairway and climbed out onto the roof, he didn’t shut the door behind him; King Carrion would reach him anyway.
He witnessed a burning hell that surrounded the building on all sides. Hot ash and embers swirled in the air. He halted. The town was burning. Explosions and detonations. Towers of flame and smoke. Fireballs bloomed and rose. Buildings collapsed in the inferno.
The Dead Girl was waiting for him. She smiled and looked away.
He flinched as jets screamed overhead and dropped payloads, cleansing the town. Streets swarming with a sea of fire, consuming vampires and survivors, wiping out all life. The heat singed the hairs on Mason’s face, stung his eyes and drew the moisture from his body to leave him dried out and on his knees as he stared out at the conflagration closing in. The oxygen was sucked from the air, and he only survived because of the vampirism inside him.
And now the factory was shaking, foundations trembling, as more bombs were dropped nearby. The explosions left him half-deaf and dizzy, witless and manic, screaming as he rolled away from the cracks appearing underneath him. The inside of the factory was on fire. Vampires screamed. He crawled to the edge of the roof and turned back to face King Carrion.
The vampire was overwhelmed by grief as it realised that it and all its converts would die. Mason sensed this in King Carrion’s mind. The creature looked around, then at Mason, and gone was its arrogance and pride; now it could only wait for the end to come.
Mason faced the vampire across the roof. His throat felt like it was cooking from the inside. He was shivering with pain, clenching his teeth as waves of nausea passed over him and his vision whitened from the wounds he’d received.
Flames climbed into the sky from the furnace of the town.
They regarded each other, and there was acceptance for them both. And as King Carrion reached out to him, the roof beneath its feet collapsed and the vampire fell into the fire inside the factory.
Mason huddled in a corner, away from the hole in the roof. He waited for the end, and he thought of Ellie and all that could have been.
The Dead Girl crouched beside him and screamed silently into his face. The flames reached for him. He closed his eyes.
*
Mason woke to darkness and an unbearable agony wracking his body. Then there were glimpses of daylight breaking through the dark, which turned into a burning white light as he was pulled from the rubble by soldiers in gas masks and body armour. He screamed as the daylight stung his charred and weeping skin. They dragged him into the shadow of a gutted building and levelled rifles at his head. His wrist stump had been cauterized and ropes of intestines hung from his stomach. He sank to his knees and cradled his stump against his chest. He was sore, blackened and bleeding. Blood seeped from his broken mouth and torn lips. Shuddering and mewling, covered in ash and brick dust.
The soldier forced him onto a gurney. They strapped him down and restrained his limbs. He looked at them and felt the urge to rip their throats out and drink their blood. The hunger inside him was all he could think about.
They fitted a muzzle over his mouth and wheeled him over cleared pathways and around mounds of rubble, and into the back of a black transit van. He was relieved to be out of the daylight.
The soldiers departed, and once they were gone two men climbed in and stood beside Mason, looking down at him. One was old and dressed in an expensive suit and overcoat. The other man was younger and wore a jacket over a polo shirt. They both looked like military or some branch of government. The older man smiled and seemed almost kindly, but Mason saw the cruelty in his eyes and knew that this was not a kind man. The other man was expressionless, appraising Mason as if he were a newly-discovered species of animal.
Then the older man spoke.
“Looks like we lost King Carrion.”
The younger man nodded. “We’ve searched for him. It’s been weeks.”
“So he’s been destroyed, you think?”
“More than likely. It’s a shame. He was an incredible specimen.”
The older man leaned closer to Mason and stared into his eyes. “Luckily we’ve found this chap, whoever he is. He’ll make an excellent replacement. The experiments will proceed as planned.”
“Indeed,” the younger man said. “My superiors will be very pleased.”
The older man smiled again and spoke directly to Mason. His voice was full of pride and righteousness.
“You have no idea how wonderful you are.”
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rich Hawkins hails from deep in the West Country, where a childhood of science fiction and horror films set him on the path to writing his own stories. He credits his love of horror and all things weird to his first viewing of John Carpenter’s THE THING when, aged twelve, he crept downstairs late one night to watch it on ITV.
He has a few short stories in various anthologies, and has written one novella, BLACK STAR, BLACK SUN. His debut novel THE LAST PLAGUE was nominated for a British Fantasy Award for Best Horror Novel. Its sequel, THE LAST OUTPOST, was released in September 2015.
He currently lives in Somerset, with his wife, their daughter and their pet dog Molly. They keep him sane. Mostly.
He can be found on Facebook (www.facebook.com/rich.hawkins.98) or his official blog richwhawkins.blogspot.co.uk.
Also featuring Rich Hawkins
The Black Room Manuscripts Volume Two
Featuring stories by Shaun Hutson, Graham Masterton, Laura Mauro, William Meikle, Lindsey Goddard, Matt Shaw, Sam Stone, Rich Hawkins, Jasper Bark, J R Park, Duncan P Bradshaw, Daniel Marc Chant, Lily Childs, Nathan Robinson, Jack Rollins, Dani Brown, Dr Lynne Campbell, Paul M Feeney, Rebecca S Lazaro, Tim Clayton and Stuart Park.
A foreword by Chris Hall (DLS Reviews) and an afterword by Howard Gorman (Scream magazine).
All profits made from this book will be donated to Alzheimer’s Research UK.
.
"The Black Room Manuscripts Volume 2 is a blistering anthology." – Ginger Nuts Of Horror
"A collection of 21 short stories written by a virtual who’s who of the UK’s indie horror scene." - The Slaughtered Bird
“The Black Room Manuscripts: Volume Two more than just delivers top quality horror fiction – it floods the veins with a concoction so imaginatively varied and versatile that the genre’s never looked more alive.” – DLS Reviews
The Sinister Horror Company is an independent UK publisher of genre fiction founded by Daniel Marc Chant, Duncan P Bradshaw and J R Park. Their mission a simple one – to write, publish and launch innovative and exciting gen
re fiction by themselves and others.
SIGN UP TO THE SINISTER HORROR COMPANY’S NEWSLETTER!
THE SINISTER TIMES
As well as exclusive news and giveaways in the newsletter we'll also send you a FREE eBOOK called “The Offering” featuring three short stories.
Sign up at SinisterHorrorCompany.com
SINISTERHORRORCOMPANY.COM