by Paul Cave
“Well, I have,” Ben told him. “And unless we find a small enough generator, our plan will never work.”
“What plan?”
“The plan to fix The Ray of Hope onto Black Bird.”
“Fix it where?” Jacob asked.
“Onto Black Bird,” Ben echoed.
“How?”
Ben looked momentarily confused; and at that moment Jacob realised that most of Ben’s knowledge was confined to textbooks and technical manuals, not the real world. “I’m not sure,” Ben admitted.
“Great …” Jacob moaned.
Suddenly, Ben’s face lit up. “Hey, what about your friend … Squirrel?”
“Yeah, Squirrel will know what to do,” Hutson said.
“I guess,” the tracker agreed. “I just hope you make it back in time to fix it.”
“You’re still heading for Ezekiel’s camp?” Ben asked.
“Yeah.”
Ben shook his head. “You’re one brave son-of-a-bitch. You wouldn’t get me taking one step into their domain. Not even with a fully loaded Browning under each arm.”
Jacob had to agree – on the face of it, it did look positively reckless. But still, he felt an inexplicable force pulling him towards the heart of the vampires’ lair.
“I guess it’s hard for you to appreciate, but I’ve got to go,” he said.
Ben nodded in understanding. “We’ll do our best to get you as close as possible.”
“Thanks.”
“Now,” Ben continued, “we need to concentrate on stripping this down, so we can transport it back to this underground of yours.”
“Wait a second,” Jacob said.
“What is it?”
“Once we do strip it down, how the hell are we gonna transport it back to the lobby?” He leaned over the railing, trying his best to find a landmark below at such a high altitude.
“Well?”
Ben shuffled awkwardly. “If this wind doesn’t drop, we’re in for the long haul down stairs.”
“Christ. What sort of half-assed plan is this?” Jacob moaned.
As if to mock them, a powerful gust of wind tore across the observation deck, rattling railings and scooping debris up into the air. The noise became deafening for a moment, like the agonising wail of a tormented soul. Under such conditions it would be virtually impossible for Tate to guide the Huey close enough with any real measure of control.
“Shit,” Jacob said, once the noise had died.
Ben looked back sheepishly. “All we can do is hope.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The agony in Daniel’s stomach swelled with malicious intensity. For a second, he thought the pain would actually burst from his gut, like a ravenous parasite, and devour him from the outside in. He wrapped his arms around himself and moaned in agony. Beside him, in the next chair, slept Major Patterson.
Since the disappearance of Father and the startling news that Rebecca had shared about the newcomer Sarah, Daniel, Patterson, Lieutenant Farr and the young girl had taken refuge within the old computer room, secure in the knowledge that only they knew the key codes to gain entry. The Major had issued the command that no one should leave their quarters alone and must travel in groups of at least two, if possible three, staying vigilant at all times. Of course, he had kept the infiltration of the vampire and Father’s loss a secret, telling people instead that a scouting party had been sighted, Ezekiel and his brethren were very close, and that everyone must remain at a higher state of alert. Patterson had also placed soldiers in every key location, in the hope of containing the two until his search party had flushed them out. Only a handful of trusted men had been told the truth, and they were now busy hunting for Father and the woman.
At first, Daniel had led the search party, but when he fell seriously ill, the Major had ordered him to rest. Even after a full night’s break the agony that raged through his body had only gotten worse.
Now, he was barely able to stand.
He thought about calling for Doctor Miller, but for some inexplicable reason Daniel felt he should keep the severity of his illness to himself. Now, though, unable to hide the agony any longer, he pulled himself up from the chair. The computers that formed all four walls swelled in towards him. He fell back into the chair. The room tilted momentarily before settling. The short bout of delirium passed. He had to get out of here.
He climbed to his feet again and waited to see if the walls would rush in to get him. They didn’t. Gingerly, he made his way towards the door. Farr and Patterson stirred. He froze and waited until they’d settled. Both returned quickly to a troubled sleep. A couple of unsteady strides and he was at the door. Daniel looked at the numbers on the keypad. They swam out of focus and became a jumbled mess. He squinted before rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The numbers returned to their correct order. He punched in the right sequence. A sharp buzz sounded and the door clicked open. He staggered through to find himself in the tight corridor.
An unexpected voice spoke. “Are you alright, sir?”
Daniel’s head snapped up. Before him, his face a mask of concern, stood an armed guard.
“I’m fine,” Daniel croaked.
“You sure?” the guard asked. “You don’t look too good.”
“What are you, a critic?” Daniel snapped back.
The guard looked stunned.
“Concentrate on the job at hand,” Daniel said. “And not on how good or not I look.”
“Yes sir,” the guard said, anxiously.
Daniel pushed past and worked his way to the end of the short tunnel. Another door with a keypad blocked his progress. He reached out and instinctively punched in the four-digit code. Two more guards parted as the door opened. They saw Daniel and sidestepped to allow him passage. Each offered him a stiff salute, even though he held no official rank. His hand flopped weakly to his brow as he returned the gesture.
Leaving the guards behind, Daniel worked his way deeper into the catacombs and eventually found himself in the lower, uninhabited tunnels and passageways that only his uncle felt comfortable in. Like a faulty automaton, he staggered from one enclave to the next. All were empty and lifeless – only shadows and darkness prevailed at this level. A constant trickle of water sounded, making the area seem even more dismal.
He came to a stop outside Jacob Cain’s quarters. I’ve arrived, he thought, but arrived where and why? He entered to find the room shrouded in darkness. He reached out instinctively to flip the light switch. He paused. The room began to reveal itself. The hard angles of the bed at the centre of the room appeared, along with the distinctive shapes of the table and chair that were situated at either side of the bed.
Daniel frowned and the room became even clearer. His hand flopped back to his side; no need for the light. He entered and his nostrils flared. A smell. Two smells, in fact. One dirty and foul, but the other sent a shiver of pleasure running through his body from head to toe. It was then he sensed this smell had been the thing that had drawn him here.
“I thought you’d never come,” said a voice from somewhere inside the room.
Daniel searched from one corner to the next.
A humourless giggle came from the shadows. “Don’t worry, it won’t be long before all your senses become perfectly attuned.” From the small washroom, Sarah appeared. The dizzying smell of desire increased, drawing Daniel to her like a fly to decay. He staggered towards her and, as he drew close, he raised both hands and allowed her to gather him in a tight embrace.
“What’s happening to me?” he asked.
She smoothed the wild tangle of his hair. “Don’t fight it.” He pulled himself closer, grabbing her tightly. “The pain,” he moaned. She whispered soothing comforts into his ear. He almost collapsed, but her strong embrace kept him on his feet. She half carried, half led him into the small washroom. Inside, Father lay unconscious on the floor. A pool of blood had leaked out from around his skull, and it had dried into a crust of gore. His chest swelled and a
struggling breath wheezed from his throat.
Sarah pushed the young man against the sink, keeping herself between Daniel and the unconscious holy man. One of the taps had bent to the side awkwardly and it had a mixture of blood and brain matter smeared over it. She turned it on. Cold water began to clear away the speckles of blood. She cupped a handful of water and splashed it over Daniel’s face. He jolted back, the freezing liquid forcing the return of his senses. “What… what are you doing?” he asked.
“It’s time,” she told him.
“Time for what?”
“For your rebirth.”
He almost laughed. This couldn’t be. Then his fevered mind played out a confusion of images: a vampire above him and a river of blood running into the back of his throat. The vampire’s mouth open and a silent curse that fell from the hollow cavity. Thomas. The attack from the silver-haired vampire had infected him. NOOO!
Daniel tried to push her away, but she held him firm. “It’ll be easier if you don’t fight it,” she said. He shook his head in defiance. “No, this can’t be.” He tried to push her again and succeeded in forcing her back. It was then he noticed the holy man lay bloodied and broken at his feet. “Father… ” he gasped. “Dear God, what have you done?”
“I’ve prepared you a present,” she told him.
“What?” he asked sickened.
“I’ve prepared him for you,” she replied.
Daniel looked shocked. “He’s hurt. We’ve got to get help.”
Sarah laughed. “He’s more than hurt.”
“What are you?” Daniel asked.
Sarah drew closer. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” she whispered. She leaned in and opened her mouth, closing it around Daniel’s. He tried to pull away, but her hand slipped to the back of his head. Her lips pressed hard against his. It was a weak and short-lived defence, though. As much as he was repulsed, he was equally aroused. The woman was beautiful, possibly the most beautiful he had ever seen.
She pulled away, leaving him wanting more. He tried to pull her back into his arms but she held him off. “For now, I must be your teacher,” she said.
“Teach me what?”
“How to survive.”
Daniel laughed, but it was a sound devoid of mirth or humour. “I’m dying,” he said, and tears of agony rolled down his cheeks.
Sarah reached out and took his hand. She placed it over the swell of her breast. “Does my heart not beat like yours?”
Underneath her vest, he felt the thud, thud of her heart. “But your blood runs cold.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed. “But I still feel passion, hunger, greed and lust.” She placed her hand against his and squeezed hard.
“Emotions to be proud of,” Daniel said, trying to focus away from his swelling lust.
A genuine cackle of amusement escaped her engorged lips. “Daniel, what other feelings are there? Love. Joy. Hope?”
He opened his mouth to tell her, but his stomach twisted with pain. The only desire he felt now was one of hunger. Not hunger for food, but a desperate yearning for freedom. Freedom from the agony that burnt within his gut.
“I can make it go away,” she said, understanding his pain.
“How?” he gasped, desperate to be liberated from the agony.
“You must feed it,” she said.
“No – never!” he spat.
“Then you will die.”
“Fuck you,” Daniel responded.
She pulled him down towards Father. “You must feed soon or die.”
“Then let me die,” he said defiantly.
“Brave words,” she remarked. “But unfortunately for you, that’s not an option. I need you alive, not dead.”
She pushed his head lower and a coppery stench wafted over him. He gagged, instinct dictating his reaction. However, after a second of discomfort, the smell turned rich and inviting. He breathed deeply and the pain in his gut wavered slightly.
“That’s it. Good,” Sarah said.
Daniel looked at the open wound in the man’s skull. He saw what lay inside and revulsion pushed him back. “I can’t do it,” he moaned. Something glinted at the corner of his eye. Sarah reached out to grab a handful of matted hair. She twisted Father’s head to one side and then drew the razor-sharp blade across his throat. A thick jet of blood leaked out.
“Hurry,” Sarah told him.
“No… ”
“Yes,” she said, and pushed his head closer.
The last thread of humanity threatened to snap. Daniel tried in vain to fight against the urge to drink, but the agony inside his body brushed aside the resistance with ease, and instead, it ordered him closer - closer to an eternity of lust; the lust for human blood. His resolve broke like a hammer striking a glass barrier. And his need revelled in its freedom. His body took over and forced his mouth around the open wound. With all humanity lost, he remained there and drank until his belly had filled and the agony had finally been vanquished.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The railings of the observation deck whistled noisily. The wind had picked up within the last few minutes, making it all the more difficult for both Jacob and Ben to complete their task. They were in the process of striping down the searchlight and its cables, and had thus far managed to save most of the control-gear required for them to operate The Ray of Hope.
“Guys, we’ve got a problem.”
Jacob turned to find Hutson there. The colour in her face had bled away.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We’ve got company,” she explained.
“Where?” Ben asked, looking urgently around for the Browning machinegun.
“This way,” Hutson replied, and led them back the stairwell. All three grouped inside. The lieutenant raised a finger to her lips. “Listen.”
They stood huddled together. The wind outside whistled through the gaps between the railings like the shrill of an anguished ghost. Jacob reached out and pulled the door closed. Immediately, they heard the distant thud of footsteps. Ben leaned over and peered downwards into the dark stairwell.
“There’s something down there,” he remarked.
Jacob tilted his head to one side. “It doesn’t sound like our friend,” he said, referring to the beast.
“I think the vampires have gotten organised,” Hutson commented. “They’ve taken their time, perhaps waiting until we’d tired or gotten careless.”
“Or perhaps they think we’ve taken care of the beast that’s been keeping them at bay?” Jacob said.
“Maybe,” Ben agreed.
“There’s one thing for sure,” Jacob concluded. “We’re not gonna be alone for much longer. How long before we can move The Ray of Hope?”
“She’s good to go, almost,” Ben stated.
“What’s left?” he enquired.
“A couple of cables, that’s all.”
“Okay, you get back to it. I’ll see if I can get rid of our unwanted guests,” Jacob said.
“How?” Hutson asked, concern clearly written across her face. They’d come too far to split up now and risk injury or worse.
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But I’ll think of something.” He took a few slow steps downward.
Jacob slipped the assault rifle off his shoulder. He clicked the flashlight underneath the barrel onto low beam and then took a few tentative steps into darkness. Alone in the dark – again, he thought, worried about what could be lurking behind as well as what drew close from the front. He traced the scope up and down the stairwell. Nothing. The beast remained elusive, for now. He descended towards the ensuing horde. And only once he’d begun to hear their distinctive chatter did he understand what needed to be done.
***
Ben’s hand slipped for a third time. The last cable was being downright stubborn. The plug appeared to have welded itself onto the generator. He tried again and the only thing he achieved was removing a layer of skin from the palm of his hand. In a rage of temper he kicked o
ut at the thing. With an unexpected crack, the plug dropped away from the generator and hung loosely at its side.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Ben said, triumphantly.
“Everything okay?” Hutson asked.
“It is now,” he replied.
Ben pulled the cable towards him. A few rotten cable-wraps popped apart. He took a few minutes to wrap the cable into a tight loop. “That’s it, the lot,” he said, looking at the mess of cables piled on top of each other. The wind blew heavily against his face, whipping his hair about his head. He looked outwards, across the dark panorama, towards where he thought Tate would be. With only one leg to fly with, her skill would now need to be absolute. He turned back towards the doorway and the threat of ensuing vampires, and realised their escape lay in a different direction. He reached into his flight-jacket and withdrew a flare.
“Okay, time to give the signal,” he said reluctantly, worried about the strong winds and the unpredictable fury they held.
Hutson looked anxiously over to the platform doorway. Where the hell was Jacob? “Okay, you give the signal. I’ll see what’s keeping Jacob.” She headed around the observation deck.
Ben moved over to the railings. Without pause, he smashed one end of the flare against the wall. Red flames exploded from the opposite end. A thick crimson cloud drifted upwards. Which turned the low clouds above into a froth of blood.
Minutes passed and then Ben heard the chatter of rotors over the shriek of the wind. He looked out into the night and saw an even darker silhouette draw near. He waved his hand eagerly from left to right. The flare spat red smoke out in a large crimson blanket. “Over here!” he called, although the occupants inside would never hear. Nevertheless, as if somehow they had, the Huey tipped to the right and homed in on his position.
As the Huey approached, Ben caught a glimpse of sleek blackness from Tate’s helmet. He imagined the expression on the face underneath as a mixture of annoyance and relief, and he offered her a wave, both in the hope of relieving her tension and as a gesture of peace. A fist waved back in his direction and he grumbled with despair. She was going kill him for taking so long