by Paul Cave
“Please, Boy, where are you?”
She heard a sudden scratching noise from behind. She spun around and a pale hand reached out towards her. Her feet became entangled with each other and, with a heavy thump, her shoulder collided against the harsh rock. Her teeth clicked painfully together. The girl’s pain provoked a heartless bout of laughter from the darkness.
“Who’s there?” she managed to mumble.
The laughter came again.
Rebecca’s heart threatened to give.
The gloom parted and a face devoid of compassion fixed her with its terrible stare. “Hello again,” the face said. The hand reached out, and this time there would be no escape for Rebecca.
The trap had finally closed on its prey.
Rebecca reared back, the hand almost around her throat. She nearly tripped over, but terror kept her on her feet. The hand began to close. A colossal roar sounded from directly behind. The fingers froze half open, and Rebecca seized her chance. She spun on her heels and plunged headlong into the darkness. As her legs pounded along the hollow rock, she caught a glimpse of something small and furry.
Scratch.
The little mutt had returned.
He waited until Rebecca had passed him, and then jumped forward in protection. A second later, a pale face broke through the gloom. The face looked surprised to find the small dog before it.
“What are you supposed to be?” Sarah questioned. Her initial look of surprise quickly became one of annoyance. How dare this pathetic thing get in the way of her prize!
“Move, before I lose my temper,” Sarah ordered.
Scratch stood defiant. Yap! Yap!
“This is your last chance,” Sarah warned.
Yap!
***
Rebecca dashed through the tunnel, her heart pounding rhythmically with each step. She followed the passageway as it bent to the left. Not once daring to look back. Fear and the tight, claustrophobic walls sucked the air from her lungs and she struggled to replace it with quick, shallow breaths. Her chest felt only half its normal size, incapable of inhaling enough oxygen. The tunnel swam out of focus and her head spun crazily. She reached out, using the narrow walls to guide her to safety. The tunnel righted itself. Her senses returned for a second. From the opposite end of the tunnel a dark object rushed towards her.
She stopped.
She squinted.
Out of the shadows came a demented beast. Its arms flailed about it in a billow of black cloth. Silver-white eyes burnt twin holes in the darkness. The ghastly visage drew nearer and Rebecca now recognised the face. Instinctively, she understood that the figure before her had succumbed to an overwhelming lust for blood. A squeal of fear burst from her constricted chest. She spun around and tore back the other way. The tunnel forced her to the right and in the next instant she found herself back with Scratch.
A low, guttural growl of warning rumbled out of the mutt like distant thunder. Then a sharp crack pierced the thunder as Sarah laughed out loud at the foolish act of bravery.
“Enough of this,” she said, and took a step towards the mutt.
Scratch snarled at her.
She opened her own mouth and even though her canines had been reshaped, the grimace carried the same degree of malevolence. A hand shot out of the darkness, which caught the mutt off guard. He was pulled off the floor as his little legs back-pedalled through the air.
Rebecca skidded to a halt, inches away from him. “NO!” she cried, as the woman’s jaws opened impossibly wide.
The girl’s plea momentarily halted Sarah’s strike.
The noise of footsteps from behind grew louder. She chanced a look back, and the ashen face of the beast replaced the dark void. The beast’s mouth opened and cruel fangs dripped with saliva.
Father reached out and his unclean hands closed around the girl’s throat. On impulse, Rebecca hit out. The punch landed squarely on his chin. The shock jolted Father out of his bloodlust for a moment. His eyes opened wide and for a second he appeared to regain his senses.
“What ...? What is this?” he said.
The strange shape of his teeth had turned the question into a rasping hiss. He reached up to feel at the fangs. “Dear Lord,” he breathed, and quickly dropped his hand away. He shook his head, the last twenty-four hours a mystery. What could he remember? Nothing really, except a burning fever and a long, vivid nightmare. He looked beyond Rebecca and his gaze fell upon the woman. A memory stirred within him. She had visited him a couple of nights earlier. Something about needing solace, she’d said. “Come in, my child,” he’d replied. She crossed the threshold of his room, and then what?
“What are you waiting for?” the woman asked him.
Father frowned. “What is this?”
“This is your awakening,” Sarah responded.
“From what?”
“From Man’s blindness.”
Sarah stepped closer and offered him the terrier. “Take it. Call it an appetiser.”
Father reached out to take the dog. The weak light caught his hand and he saw that it was covered in a layer of dried blood. “How?” he gasped. His nostrils flared and his heart beat faster with the scent of blood. A dreadful hunger gnawed away in the pit of his stomach. Two long rivulets of saliva ran down his upper canines, which dripped onto the toe of his boot.
Rebecca watched as the spittle landed, and she recognised the boots instantly. They were the same pair used to crush the rat dead. She watched as the hand moved towards Scratch.
“No!” she cried.
The talisman in her hand burnt at her palm. She opened her hand and the crystal vial shone in a bright blue incandescence. The water at the centre a glow of pure white light, the beams exploded outwards, dousing all in a radiant blue.
Father screamed and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Another scream sounded from behind. Rebecca found Sarah cowering away, one arm thrown over her eyes. Released from the woman’s grip, Scratch fell to the floor, landing safely on all four paws. He shot forwards and tugged the hem of Father’s gown. With a thud, the holy man fell onto his behind.
Rebecca remembered the blue light from the woods, the one that Jacob Cain had used. Somehow, the magnificent light had sufficient power to harm the vampires. Although she did not understand it, the light offered her protection. She spun full circle and the blue rays held the vampires to the rock: Father on his back and Sarah pushed up against the tunnel wall. Agonised moans escaped from their blasphemous lips.
Scratch scampered to Rebecca’s feet to take refuge in the canopy of light. For a few seconds, Rebecca found herself trapped between the two vampires. She looked into the whites of Father’s eyes and knew her chance of escape lay in his direction. She stepped over his writhing form.
“C’mon, Boy!” she called.
The mutt hopped over the vampire to join her. She thrust the vial out, which kept the vampires at bay. Then she quickly turned the other way. They retreated into the tight passageway.
The second the blue light had faded, Sarah pushed herself away from the wall. Bright spots burnt at her vision. She stumbled about blindly and fell over Father. Her teeth cracked like a pistol shot as her jaws clicked painfully together. A trickle of blood dripped onto her chin.
Father stirred.
“Fool, you let them get away!” Sarah admonished.
The old man mumbled incoherently. “Food… ” he moaned. “So… hungry.”
“Fool!” Sarah spat again.
For a second, she contemplated ending his misery – he was fast becoming a liability – but instead she lowered her head and placed a ghastly kiss onto his lips. “Here, drink,” she ordered. His mouth opened and he began to suck on her cut lip like a parasitic infant. Even Sarah felt a rush of revulsion as she suckled the holy man with her blood. Nevertheless he needed sustenance, for she hadn’t finished with him. Her plan had taken an unexpected turn for the worse, yet her objective was still clear.
The security codes to open the access doors still elude
d her – even Father had proven useless at breaking them. However, someone else would be joining her - and soon. Someone who knew not only the codes, but all the secrets the underground had to offer.
***
Rebecca saw the old, reassuring face of Major Patterson, and without breaking her pace she ran straight to him. She flung her arms around him and then her emotions erupted in a great, choking sob.
“Now, now, Patterson soothed.
Scratch appeared out of the darkness too, his claws echoing eerily off the carved rock. The little mutt stopped at Rebecca’s feet. Rebecca continued to weep. And the mutt looked to be trembling.
Daniel stepped forwards to cover the small group. Something had clearly spooked the pair of them. He trained his weapon towards the empty tunnel. Something remained on the periphery of the darkness. Daniel’s hand tightened around the handgrip of the machinegun.
“What is it?” Patterson asked, feeling the tension of the situation.
“Not sure,” Daniel replied. He took a step closer to darkness. Then felt a tightness to his shoulder. Daniel turned to find the Major’s hand had stopped his progress.
“Let’s get out of here,” Patterson urged. “This is no place to be defending.”
The old man’s other arm was protectively wrapped around Rebecca’s shoulders. The little girl was nodding in agreement, fresh tears running down her grime-stricken face.
“The woman from sickbay,” she managed to mumble. “And the holyman.”
The two men looked at each other. Rebecca’s words had not contained hope or urgency about them. No, they had been final. Whatever fate had befallen Sarah and Father had been absolute.
Major Patterson simply nodded to Daniel. “Let’s go,” he repeated.
Daniel turned back towards the empty passageway. The shadows had grown thicker. Was there something hovering just beyond his vision? He sensed the small group behind him leaving – Rebecca’s weeping growing distant and the dog’s claws clicking as it followed.
Daniel held his position for a moment longer and then he turned to follow, leaving the darkness behind, and the fate of two in the hands of a higher purpose.
Chapter Thirty-One
An hour of constant climbing had turned Ben’s legs into two sticks of jelly. In addition to his weakened legs, his arms had just about cramped solid with the weight of the Browning. So far, they’d reached the 49th floor unhindered. Outside, the weak light forced its way through the grime-covered windows, now offering just a hint of guidance.
“Wait. Wait,” Ben called.
Jacob Cain and Lieutenant Hutson stopped and looked back at the struggling gunner.
“Time out,” Ben gasped, and collapsed onto the stairway.
“Stay here,” Jacob instructed Hutson. He descended a few steps to join Ben between two floors. The guy’s huge chest heaved with exhaustion.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Ben lied. He looked as if fatigue was about to pull him all the way back to the first floor.
“I think we should rest up. Let’s set up camp at the next floor. It’s been one hell of a day.”
Ben nodded, relieved at the thought of rest and a couple of hours sleep.
Jacob returned to Hutson’s side. “We rest for the night,” he announced.
“Thank God. My legs are about one step away from collapsing,” Hutson replied.
Hutson checked her rifle. Twice she’d fired shots into the dark corridors, unnerved by a sudden shifting of shadows or an unexplained sound. She patted her jacket and felt reassured by the two spare magazines she felt there. She pushed the door open by an inch. A dark corridor stretched out before her. They stood there, straining to hear if anything threatening lay beyond. Something Ben had said earlier crept into her mind. “How come the vampires haven’t tried to follow us?” he said, even though he knew the answer. “I think our unwanted guest is keeping them at bay,” she had replied, with a nervous shudder. What the hell kind of ‘thing’ could instil sufficient dread to keep out the undead? All felt it was only a matter time before the beast revealed itself.
Hutson pushed open the door. She stepped over the threshold and moved to the first opening. Jacob slipped the assault rifle into his hands and then crossed into near-darkness. Ben followed close behind.
“Stay here. Watch our backs,” Jacob ordered.
“Yeah. Okay, boss,” Ben replied.
Ben reached out and pulled a bin full of trash over to the doorway. Resting the Browning on the lip of the bin, he took up position. Jacob backed away before joining Hutson at the door to a deserted office. Inside they found nothing but the remnants of a lost civilisation. A computer sat silently on a desk, no longer storing data but accumulating dust. Two filing-cabinets occupied opposite corners, and the chair at the centre of the room had become an antique of rotten leather.
They stood back, and then moved across the corridor to the next room. There they found just another office and another suggestion of times past. For the next couple of minutes they checked from one room to the next. Level 49 appeared deserted, thankfully. Stepping out of the last room, Jacob whistled to Ben. The gunner turned and waved an acknowledgement. His oversized boots pounded down the passageway. The heavy footsteps did not stop, however, once he’d reached them. Instead, a thud of footsteps followed as they pounded directly above them. Something above had tried to match Ben step-for-step.
Fear bent Ben’s face into a crooked grin. “What the hell was that?”
A finger rose to the tracker’s lips. “Quiet… ”
All three stayed rooted to the spot. At first nothing came. Until another set of steps marched across the ceiling for a second time. Hutson reached out, grasping at Jacob’s arm. “What is it?” she demanded. He turned to find her face had drained of colour. “It’s no vampire,” he replied. “No ordinary vampire, that is.”
“Shit,” Hutson moaned. She double-checked her rifle and then, in a fit of bravado, she headed for the stairwell.
“Lieutenant,” Jacob called. He took a couple of urgent steps to stop the woman before she could get any further. “Let’s not be reckless,” he cautioned. “That thing’s been keeping one step ahead all along. It could be as scared of us as we are of it.”
“Do you think so?”
“I hope so,” he told her.
Ben joined them. “Who’s hunting who?”
“I think it’s time we found out,” Jacob said.
“What do you suggest?” the large guy asked.
“We need to lure our friend down here, and then show it a little bit of human hospitality,” he said, resting the M16 across his chest.
One of Jacob’s words had sent a shiver down Ben’s spine. “Lure it out how, exactly?”
Twin slivers of white glinted as the tracker’s face broke into a humourless smile. “We bait it.”
***
A sheet of darkness covered the staircase. Even the small flashlight beneath the barrel of the M16 could not penetrate the darkness fully; it just burnt it back slightly. Jacob took a breath, and then stepped into the dark void. He climbed blindly for a few anxious seconds before arriving at the top of the stairs unscathed. A mere trace of natural light pushed weakly against the dirty windows on each landing.
The 50th floor beckoned.
Below him, Ben and Lieutenant Hutson were ready and waiting. All he had to do was lead the thing to them. Yeah, right! He rested his hand on the door handle. It felt cold and oily. He tightened his grip. Twisted it to the left. The handle was jammed tight. He tried it to the right and it released a short squeal of protest before it popped open. He pushed his way inside. The hinges cracked like the snap of bones as they gave. The slight noise jabbed at Jacob’s ears. He peered through the gap using the scope of his weapon.
A large, open office space revealed itself. In a marvel of symmetry the room had been designed to house row upon row of desks and workspaces, all identical in placement and size. He stepped inside but kept one hand on the doo
r. Immediately to his left, he saw an overturned chair. He reached out and dragged the chair over. The carpeted floor muffled the noise, and he felt both relief and dread. At least he’d be able to move quietly. But then again so would his quarry. Using the chair to wedge the door open, he then moved further into the room.
He dropped to one knee and used the scope again, tracking it left to right. Only shadows revealed themselves. He took another couple of steps and dropped to his knee. The scope showed nothing, just a setting from another world and time. He started to think the thing might have climbed to the next level or descended. Until something further ahead fell with a soft patter. The assault rifle homed in on the noise. Jacob held his breath.
He was not alone after all.
A huge roar erupted from the opposite end of the office. The sound was guttural, wild and ferocious. A chair sailed through the darkness to crash noisily behind Jacob. Had he not ducked, the object would have knocked him senseless. He sprang to his feet and fired a couple of warning shots in his attacker’s general direction. A second howl of rage came.
Moving quickly, he sprinted to the other side of the office, taking refuge behind a desk. The desk appeared solid and would offer good protection. He thought about overturning it, as the flat tabletop would protect against bullets, but when the thing howled again he knew whatever was out there was incapable of the dexterity required to operate a trigger.
It grunted, closer than before. Jacob shrank under the table. He held the rifle close to his chest. Feet thumped heavily on the carpeted floor. Something in its awkward gait made him think of an animal and a large animal at that.
The footsteps trailed away from his hiding place. Jacob returned to his point of entry. The door had been closed. He reached out to open it. His hand closed around thin air. Anxiously, he searched for the doorknob. He eventually found it lying on the carpet, useless. A short stub of metal protruded from the door, the remains of the opening mechanism. Somehow, the thing had had the presence of mind to break it, halting any chance of escape into this stairwell. He thought about shooting the lock, but the door and doorframe looked solid.