There’s ten of them. Maybe more.
I fire off a round from my rifle, hitting a male vampire in the chest. He drops to his knees instantly.
Vampires start collapsing as the others fire off more and more bullets. I keep shooting, catching two more, this time in the head.
“Move back!” Henderson shouts as another herd of vampires comes surging out.
As I back away, still firing, I notice Erin. Her eyes are fixed ahead, her finger firmly on the trigger. She’s caught five, maybe six vamps. All headshots. I should be happy for her that she hasn’t frozen, but I’m too scared, too adrenalised for it to matter. I drop another. Then another. The loud gunfire, the hideous squeals, they’re deafening. My ears have popped. There’s at least twenty vampires sprawled out on the floor, blood pooling beneath their slender, skeletal bodies. Henderson starts to move towards the doorway, taking them out one at a time, before they get a chance to get through.
Practically back-to-back, standing in an ocean of vampire blood, Erin and I examine our surroundings, making sure that every creature is down.
The gunfire stops, leaving my eardrums ringing and my heart pounding like a drum. Nick glances back at us, his gun still pointed at the doorway. “You guys okay?” he asks, breathless.
We nod in harmony, both too shell-shocked to speak.
“Should we go dow—” I start to say, but Henderson shushes me from the doorway.
I freeze, listening out for movement.
A minute passes, but still nothing. Henderson steps back and turns to us. “Good job, guys. Especially you two,” he says, his eyes darting between Erin and me. “You didn’t flinch, and more importa—”
“Behind you!” I scream when I see something emerge from the basement.
Henderson turns in fright and points his gun at the doorway. The rest of us do the same.
But then he does something bizarre. He hooks his gun-strap around his shoulder, and then drops to one knee.
What the hell is he doing?
I hear barking.
Two Alsatians dash out of the darkness and rush into Henderson’s open arms.
Erin lets out a loud sigh of relief when she sees the animals unharmed.
“Good boys,” Nick says, stroking their heads with his gloved hand.
I turn to Erin, her breathing heavy, her face damp with perspiration, her full-lips shaping a smile. From relief or adrenalin, it’s impossible to tell. Probably a little of both. For a moment, I consider high-fiving her, telling her how proud I am that she didn’t freeze, but it’s too soon for that.
“Sean, run out to the van,” Nick orders me, “and get HQ on the radio. Tell them we need a clean-up crew down here.”
“No problem, Nick.” I hook my weapon over my shoulder and start to walk towards the entrance.
“And tell them they’ll need to bring the lorry,” Henderson shouts.
“You got it,” I say as my walk turns into a jog.
Suddenly the entrance doors slam shut, the light vanishes, and my heart halts again.
“Keep the doors open, Sean!” Nick bellows.
Eyes wide with horror, rifle back in my hand, I frantically bounce the torch beam off the walls. “It wasn’t me.”
“Say that again?” Nick asks.
As I stand there, confused, I feel a gentle shower of dust land on my shoulder. “Guys! I think there’s more.” Gun pointed above, I follow the wooden beams along the ceiling.
The dogs start to bark.
In the darkness, through the dread, something whizzes past me.
Then again.
Light footsteps.
Oh, crap!
Erin screams. I turn to her just as something drags her to the floor. Nick fires off a shot, hitting the creature in the back of the head. I race over and pull her up.
Every gun is pointed at the ceiling, with every torchlight trying to capture each wooden beam.
Henderson fires another shot at something. Then another. Nick does the same. Are they shooting randomly? I can’t see anything.
I do the same.
Dust and debris starts to rain over us.
I hear the sound of wood splitting. “Look out!” I call to Erin as a huge chunk of wood falls from the ceiling. I leap over to her, pushing her out of its path. She lands painfully on her side, but we’re both clear of the wood.
A creature lands between us, so I unload a bullet into its face.
There’s a thud.
Then another.
Two more. Three.
Nick is down on the deck, his rifle the only barrier between his throat and a set of snarling fangs.
Erin takes careful aim and kills the creature with a headshot.
Henderson’s gun is still pointed at the ceiling, his torchlight following movement. Erin takes out three more creatures. I manage just one.
There’s another thud as a vampire lands on Henderson’s back, forcing him to the floor. His chin hits the concrete and his rifle flies from his grip.
The two dogs leap up, locking their snarling jaws onto the creature’s arms. Nick gets to his feet, gathers up his weapon, and fires a bullet into the vampire’s head.
My attention returns to the ceiling. There’s still movement coming from the beam near the entrance. I sprint towards it, my rifle-torch catching its yellow eyes as it cowers in the darkness. You’re mine! I fire the weapon, but the bullet hits the wood.
“Shit!”
I try again, but the creature has disappeared.
Gunfire echoes around the room as Henderson and Nick fire into the air.
“Do you see it?” I cry when the noise stops.
Nick shakes his head and then fires another shot.
“He’s fast,” Henderson says, scrutinising the ceiling.
Eyes still above me, I run over to the entrance and pull the doors open. Sunlight floods in, lighting up the first quarter of the room.
There’s a faint squeal coming from directly above me.
“Look out!” Erin screams.
My heart almost stops when the creature lands just inches from my feet, smoke clouding over its naked body, the stench of burning flesh turning my stomach. I leap back as it tries to crawl away from the sunlight, its skin blistering, its yellow eyes wide with torture.
For a split second, I feel sorry for the suffering creature. But any glimmer of remorse vanishes when a bullet leaves my rifle, piercing its skull—and the monster, the walking virus, collapses in a heap.
That’s for Mum and Dad, you bastard!
12
Erin gives a tap on the door and I throw her an anxious look.
“Come in,” Michael calls out from behind it.
Michael’s office is small. One window with a view of the police station car park. One tiny desk, with barely enough space for a laptop and a framed photo of his wife and kids. And two filing cabinets. If he really wanted a bigger office, I’m fairly confident that he could get one. But something tells me that he isn’t the type of guy who’d give a crap about such mundane things. And anyway, between going on call-outs and working at The Facility, he’s hardly here.
“You wanted to see us, sir?” I ask.
Michael is sitting behind his desk, wearing a white shirt and blue tie, holding a mug of coffee. “Oh, hi, guys. Take a seat.” He points to the empty chairs at the other side of the desk.
“Everything all right?” I ask, sitting down nervously, replaying the events from the factory in my head, wondering if we screwed up in some way.
“Everything’s fine. Nick and Henderson have given me a full report on the nest incident. And I have to say—I’m very impressed with you both. You showed great teamwork and resilience. Nests are a pain. Very difficult to prepare for. So, hats off to you both. Well done!”
I let out a faint sigh of relief.
“It’s what you’ve trained us to do, sir,” Erin says. “We’re glad to do it.”
“Nevertheless, you both stood up and held your ground—and I’m proud to have you in the HC
A.”
Erin smiles. The weight of all that self-doubt clearly lifting from her shoulders.
“I’m a pretty black and white guy. I reward good work, and I always punish lousy, dangerous work. So, as from this afternoon Henderson is suspended without pay, and Nick is on a warning.”
“How come?” I ask, shocked. I can’t remember them screwing up.
“Because they should’ve known how easily Hemovores can climb. Someone should always be guarding the ceiling.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “But none of that is on your shoulders. They were in charge. They should have known better.” He leans back in his chair. “Now, on to the good news. Nick is taking a shipment of Hemovores to The Facility in a few days. How would you two like to tag along? Get a grand tour?”
A ball of excitement forms in my stomach. I know it’s not exactly Disneyland, or Buckingham Palace, but giving us access to The Facility means he trusts us, that we’re both moving forward. But more importantly, it means that Erin’s job is safe.
“Thank you so much, sir,” Erin says, her face lighting up with eagerness. “This really means a lot.”
“Yes. Same here,” I say. “Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me. It’s important that my staff get to see everything. I want you both to be confident that you’re part of something special here, because this isn’t a nine to five, clock-punching job. HCA is the only line of defence against these monsters. So, we need to be more than a team. We need to be a family.”
Erin and I glance at each other. She’s smiling. It’s so good to see her like this—optimistic about her future here. I don’t think I could do this job without her.
“Now go and get some lunch,” Michael says, waving us out. “We’ll talk later.”
We get up and head for the door. “Thanks again,” I say, just as something on the wall catches my eye. Pinned to a cork-board is a photo of Freya. It looks like an old one, before Ben was born. He must have got it off Facebook. There’s something written beneath it, but it’s too small to read.
“Has Freya been in touch with you?” Michael asks, clearly spotting my interest in the photo.
I shake my head, trying to unravel the knot in my gut. “No.”
“You will let me know if she does, won’t you? Can’t have her and her brother running around after what they did to Prichard.”
“Of course, sir. But I haven’t seen or heard anything since she came to me in the hospital.”
Michael takes another swig of coffee. “Good lad. Now get something to eat.”
“Okay, sir.” I follow Erin out of the room. “Thanks again.”
“Is that true?” Erin asks as we walk along the corridor.
“What’s true?”
“About Freya.”
We reach the break room.
“Of course it’s true. I don’t know where she is.” Opening the fridge door, I think back to that morning in the hospital. Broken ribs. Memory fuzzy from the painkillers. But it didn’t take long for everything to come back. Mum and Dad murdered in their home. Their own bed. I remember that look on Freya’s face when she came to see me. Those sad blue eyes swimming in tears. Drowning in pity. Or was it shame? “Why would I lie?”
“Maybe to protect her.”
I let out a short chuckle, but it’s obviously forced. “I don’t give a shit about her, or her vampire brother. She made her bed when she attacked Michael. If I knew where she was, then I’d arrest her myself.”
“Good,” Erin says, pulling out her lunchbox from the top shelf. “She sounds dangerous.”
I don’t answer her, just grab my lunch and take it over to the table. Erin sits next to me, pulling out a sandwich. I do the same.
A second ago, I was starving.
But now I’ve completely lost my appetite.
Part VI
FREYA LAWSON
13
I haven’t heard this song in years. What is love? by Haddaway. Mum used to play this all the time when I was a kid. Never thought I’d miss something so cheesy.
It’s a little frosty this evening, so Katrina gave me one of her old coats. It’s thick, heavy and green. It’s not the nicest to look at, but at least it’s warm. I could use a pair of gloves, too, but the heat coming from the bonfire feels nice against my cold hands. Its high flames take me back home. Back with my friends at Solace Park. Even though I can’t say I miss them all that much. Just miss the simplicity.
The sound of kids playing, people chatting, the smell of barbecue food, it makes me feel like an ordinary teenager, one that isn’t on the run with a vampire brother.
For the first time in months I actually feel relaxed. Well, relaxed might be a bit of a push.
Less stressed then.
Ben is sitting on the deck chair next to me, the hood of his hoodie over his head, his arms crossed, his frowning eyes fixed to the flames in front. For a second, I thought he was going to run off when he woke in the van. It’s hard to blame him, though. Everything about this place is alien to him. New people. New environment. He’s probably thinking that living in that shitty flat was hard enough, and now he’s got to cope with this place, too.
Ben understands most things. But no more than a child of about seven or eight. Trying to explain what a traveller community is—well, I’m pretty sure is impossible. All I can do for now is keep him calm and let him adjust in his own time.
Maggie slides her ample frame through the crowds of chatty, half-drunk residents, and comes over to us. “Here you go, sweetie,” she says, holding out a bottle of beer.
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” I say, waving my hand in protest—even though I’d love a beer. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Don’t be silly, Freya. You’re not imposing. We’re celebrating!”
“Well, I suppose one drink won’t hurt.”
“One drink! Not on my farm, sweetie. There’s plenty to go ‘round.”
I chortle, and then take the ice-cold beer.
“How you settling in, Ben?” she asks him.
He answers with a growl.
“Ben!” I snap. “Don’t be rude. These people saved our lives.”
Maggie shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. He doesn’t know me. Give him time.”
“He’s very protective of me.” A memory of Ben surfaces. His jaws locked around Tony’s throat. Blood drenching the carpet.
“And so he should be.” She sits next to me. “He’s your family. He reminds me so much of my late son. So much pent-up aggression. Almost like a wild dog.” She pulls out a packet of cigarettes. “I have to be honest, when my boy first came into the world, seeing those yellow eyes scared the hell out of me.” She smiles at Ben. “But that didn’t stop him being my son.”
“Yeah. Same here. It was tough getting used to him. Now, he’s just a moody git.” I playfully elbow him. “Isn’t that right, Ben?”
He grimaces at me.
“He’s still learning,” Maggie says, lighting up a cigarette. “He’ll get there.”
I take a sip of beer.
“Good booze?” Maggie asks with a flick of her eyebrows.
I give a thumps up. “Yes, thanks.”
“Hot dogs’ll be ready soon,” she says. “Do you think Ben is getting hungry?”
“Maybe.” I turn to him. “You hungry, Ben?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Ben? Are you hungry?” I repeat.
‘Yes.’
“Do you have some blood for him?” I ask Maggie.
“Of course I do, sweetie. Like I said before, we’ve got more than enough pig’s blood. You don’t have to worry.”
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done.”
She rubs my shoulder. “Nonsense. You and your brother are part of this community now.”
Maggie gets up. “We can’t fight the bad people alone. We have to help each other.” And then she walks off towards the barn.
Ben looks down at the grass, clearly struggling
to accept the change.
“You’ll get used to the place. At least here I won’t have to work at the kebab shop. At least you won’t be left on your own in the flat.”
I don’t hear any words in my head.
There’s a vampire sitting at the other side of the fire. Female, early teens in stature, probably just a few months old in human years. She’s wearing a brown parker coat with the hood over her head. It feels so weird being this close to another half-breed. Up until now, we’ve managed to avoid them, especially locked away in that flat all day. Maybe I’ll be able to hear her thoughts. See if this skill works on all vampires. That’d be strange. I wonder what she’d sound like. Female, I suppose. But why does Ben sound like a boy for that matter? He doesn’t use his vocal cords to speak. Is it just my own mind creating the voice, imagining what I think he should sound like?
I let out a sigh of disbelief. Bonkers.
Next to her is a man, perhaps early thirties, wearing a beanie hat and a long, black jacket. I nod to him when our eyes meet. Judging by his body language, he looks a little out of place, nervous, and doesn’t strike me as part of the community. Is he like me? A new member? He whispers something to the vampire, and then they walk over to us.
“Hi,” he says, his voice deep, his smile uneasy. “Mind if we join you?”
“No, it’s fine.”
Ben straightens in his chair, his grimace now on the vampire instead.
As the man sits next to me, I notice a scar across his forehead. It looks fresh, maybe a few weeks old. Probably been through the mill like us. His daughter lingers beside him, her willowy body rigid. “Sit down, Jade.” She’s frozen, clearly uncomfortable in this environment. “Jade!” he says, firmer, pointing at the chair. “Sit down.”
She finally sits next to him.
“Sorry about my daughter,” he says. “She’s just a little edgy ‘round new people.”
I can’t hear her words in my head. I focus hard, but there’s nothing. Maybe it only works with siblings.
“New to the farm?” I ask, and then take another sip of beer.
“Yeah. Katrina and Wesley picked us up two days ago. We were holed up in one of the abandoned warehouses over in Ammanford.”
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