Something of the Night

by Paul Cave

  “There it is,” Tate said. “Ezekiel’s camp.”

  Thousands of torches burnt the night away and it looked as if sunrise was about to break on the horizon and push the suffocating darkness to the four corners of the Earth.

  “We should set down here. We don’t want to get too close,” Tate suggested.

  “Okay,” Jacob agreed.

  In synchronised unity, both Jacob and Tate lowered the helicopter to the ground. This time, however, there was no repeat of their earlier near misses. Instead, they brought the Huey gracefully down first time.

  “We’re getting good at this,” Jacob commented, pleased with his landing.

  “Don’t make it our last,” Tate told him.

  “I’ll try not to,” he promised.

  Tate reached up and killed the power to the main engine. Slowly, the rotors came to a full stop. They unbuckled their safety belts before climbing into the rear cabin. There, Ben, Nick and Lieutenant Hutson were already making their way outside. Pet, the vampire, remained tethered to the chair. It was almost time for him to make a star performance. Jacob stepped outside and the bitter chill stole the warm air from his lungs. He took a breath and the cold sent a shiver through his body.

  “You’re not gonna change your mind?” Hutson asked.

  He shook his head. “Got to go.”

  “Okay, then I should come too. Like we originally planned.”

  “No. Everything’s changed. You need to get Black Bird to Major Patterson, and make sure Squirrel develops the searchlight.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  Jacob reached out to squeeze her arm. “Thanks.” He turned back to the cabin and frowned. What the hell was he going to do with the vampire?

  Reaching in, Jacob began to work the vampire’s bonds loose. The thing’s feet were released first and then, climbing inside, Jacob freed Pet from the flight-seat. He looked at the thing straight, said, “Okay, we’re gonna get on just fine, me and you. So I don’t want any funny business, right?”

  Pet’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

  Jacob took a length of rope then quickly tied it into a long leash around the vampire’s wrists. The vampire climbed awkwardly down from the cabin, leaving the remnants of his boots inside. He pulled Pet away from the Huey and led him towards the small gathering.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Ben asked.

  “What?”

  Ben climbed into the cabin and began to lift the seats up. Underneath was an assortment of odd items. “Here you are,” he said, finally retrieving a handful of small, cylindrical canisters. He jumped down from the cabin and called Jacob over.

  “What is it?” the tracker asked.

  “Over here,” Ben stated, in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “What?”

  “Quickly,” Ben said, with an urgent flick of his head.

  The tracker handed the leash to Hutson before joining Ben at his side. “What the hell’s the big secret?”

  “Quiet,” Ben whispered slyly, “I think you’ll need these. For your plan, that is.” In the palm of Ben’s huge hands, two in each, lay four fragmentation grenades. They looked no more lethal than a small spray can or tin of food; and the only thing that gave away their potential for destruction were the letters: ARMY ISS. XI FRAG. Each grenade had a small pin at the top, which activated the timer and set the detonator to anything from mere seconds to a maximum of two minutes.

  “Good man,” Jacob said, and took the frag grenades, quickly dropping two inside either side pocket of his jacket. He retuned to Hutson, gave her a knowing wink and then retook Pet’s leash. He looked at each of them individually. Then, without further comment, he turned towards the burning horizon and took the first steps towards the heart of the vampires’ lair.

  The roar of thunder grew from behind. Jacob looked up and watched as Black Bird disappeared over the swell of dark hills. He wished them well. Then concentrated on the task at hand. With the vampire in tow, he slowly made his way closer to the flicker of lights. As the distance shortened, he began to make out the vague shapes of guards or soldiers, hunkered in shallow trenches or hiding from the wind in makeshift shelters. And, rather than trying to sneak past these lookouts, Jacob instead pulled his shoulders back and began to whistle a tuneless melody.

  Jacob led Pet closer to the sentry box. Two puzzled-looking vampires had taken position at the front of the wooden hut. One appeared old and grizzled, while the other looked as if he’d been stuffed into his uniform, which was two sizes too small. His jacket looked as if it had been stapled tight at the front, in the hope that his rolls of flab would not spill out over his waistband. His pants looked as if they’d been painted over chubby legs. The overweight vampire looked at Jacob through two pinpricks for eyes, poked into a mould of ruddy flesh.

  “Where are you going?” the large vampire asked. His voice was high and wheezy, and full of self-importance.

  The whistling stopped and Jacob flashed them a cocky smile. “Hi, how’re ya doin’?”

  “Got ourselves a wiseass,” the older vampire said. In comparison to the other’s high, reedy voice, this guy spoke in a thick Italian slur. It had been the worst wise guy impression Jacob had ever heard.

  The tracker eyed the scraggy gangster wannabe. “What’s up, pal?”

  Old-Bones turned to his comrade and huffed in annoyance. “Well?”

  “Well what?” the large vampire asked.

  “Aren’t you gonna whack him?”

  The vampire’s chin wobbled as he twisted his head to the side. A single rifle lay propped up inside the hut, against the wall and well out of reach. “Oh shit,” he moaned, in a high-pitched squeal. He turned back and his gut quivered with nerves.

  Jacob raised both hands in a show of peace. “Nobody needs to whack anybody. I’m just taking my prisoner here over to the holding pens.”

  “Prisoner?” Old-Bones asked. His thin lips parted and a pointed tongue darted out to lick over the two strips of flesh. “Is it human?”

  “Yeah, what is it?” the overweight guard asked. He seemed to swell with excitement and the buttons of his jacket threatened to pop open. “A meal?”

  “Neither,” Jacob responded. “Unfortunately.”

  “Then what is it?” the guard asked.

  “It’s a scout I found just north of here. One of Raphael’s bastards I caught sneaking around.”

  “Raphael?”

  “Yeah.”

  The fat guard’s pinprick eyes narrowed until they were almost sealed shut. “I don’t buy it. Why would he have been caught in the north, when we all know Raphael’s camped to the far south?”

  Jacob shrugged. “I don’t know, because of this?”

  The guard looked down and at the object that had suddenly appeared in Jacob’s hand. “What’s that?”

  The tracker held it up, and said, “A knife?”

  “And what’s that for?”

  “Ah… I don’t know. This?” The knife flipped over so the sharp end pointed towards the vampire’s chest. Jacob stepped forwards and the blade disappeared into the thing’s flesh.

  “Ooohhh …” the vampire sang in surprise. He looked at Jacob and genuine bemusement pulled his flabby face upwards. The tracker stepped closer. Then wrapped his free arm around the thing’s body as if in embrace. He twisted the knife deeper and he felt the vampire’s legs buckle.

  Old-Bones spun awkwardly, and then lunged towards the rifle. Jacob sidestepped around the overweight vampire, pulling the blade free in a shower of gore. He took aim and threw the weapon towards the guard’s back. The blade thudded between two bony shoulder-blades. Old-Bones stopped dead, the rifle now instantly forgotten. He twisted in the mud and skeletal hands tried vainly to pull the knife from his back. For a couple of seconds he danced a merry jig, arms and legs flailing about. He finished, however, slumped inside the sentry-box. The overweight vampire fell to the earth with a thud, face first, ready to join his comrade in the after-afterlife.

 
; Jacob scanned around, checking for any unwanted movements. About a hundred yards away he saw another crooked sentry-post and beyond that, nothing but trees and darkness. On the opposite side a couple of shallow trenches scarred the earth at random intervals. Heads bobbed about intermittently. But so far his little act of aggression had gone unnoticed. He bent and grabbed the fat vampire’s ankle, then attempted to pull the body into the shadows of the wooden hut. He pulled, but the body stayed fixed to the ground. He pulled harder and one of the guard’s boots slipped away, leaving a pale, dough-like foot behind.

  The missing boot gave Jacob an idea.

  Dropping to his knees, he quickly undressed the corpse, eventually leaving a half-naked whale of bloated flesh. He lowered his own pants, thought better of it, and then began to pull the baggy pants up over the tops of his own. They still felt two sizes too big, even with a second pair underneath, but at such short notice they would have to do. He slipped into the guard’s jacket, careful to avoid the wet blood stain, and then buttoned it up. Then taking up the boots, he handed them to Pet. The vampire looked at them stupidly.

  “Take them,” Jacob ordered, with a quick nod.

  Pet reached out, his hands tethered together and took the pair of scuffed boots. He looked at Jacob and his face acknowledged a slight understanding.

  “I’ll untie you in a minute,” the tracker said. “But first, I need to undress him.” He stepped over to the skinny vampire and began to unbutton its jacket.

  Within a couple minutes he’d successfully stripped the uniform off the guard. Now, a small pile of clothing lay at Pet’s bare feet. Jacob took the rifle and joined him at the body of the overweight vampire.

  “Okay, I’m gonna untie your hands. We’re not going to have any funny business, are we?” he asked.

  Pet’s head shook mechanically from left to right. Jacob chambered a round into the rifle as an incentive to behave. He untied the vampire’s wrists, then quickly stepped back and trained the weapon at the thing’s chest. With an automated jerkiness, Pet began to strip down to his underclothes. His pants came away without him having to even step out of them. Instead, they just pulled away from the two sticks of flesh and bone in a flap of tattered rags. He then struggled for a couple of minutes as he tried to thread his two feet through the pants. It was like watching an idiot try to push a square peg through an even smaller round hole, using nothing heftier than a marshmallow for leverage. Jacob fidgeted in agony. Eventually, and by the grace of God, Pet pulled the pants up around his waist.

  Jacob took his knife and cut a short length of rope. “Here, use this,” he said. Pet took it and successfully secured it around his waistline. He climbed into the jacket. Slipped his bony feet into the oversized boots, and then bent to fasten the laces.

  “Don’t even bother,” Jacob told him, unable to endure the pantomime. Instead he pushed the vampire onto his behind before quickly tying the bootlaces tightly around the thing’s skinny ankles. He helped Pet to his feet and then looked him over. Good grief, he wasn’t gonna kid anyone. “You’ll have to do.”

  Pet grinned from behind the gag, and Jacob figured it was going to be a problem.

  “I’m gonna remove the gag, but I’ll be keeping a close eye on you.” The rifle rose to the vampire’s head, emphasising his meaning. He slipped the gag down, over the vampire’s pointed chin, and the restraint became a more fashionable neckerchief. “Just dandy,” Jacob mocked. Pet grinned but his canines curbed any aspect of goodwill.

  “Okay,” the tracker said, “what are we going to do with this sack of shit?” and he kicked the dead whale at his feet.

  Pet moved forwards and bent to take a weighty leg. Then, and to Jacob’s surprise, he began to effortlessly drag the body away from the sentry-post and further into the darkness. He managed to pull the body far enough for them to be able to hide it in a shallow ditch. Jacob pulled up a handful of dead shrub before laying it over the thing’s gut. Not perfect, but it’d do.

  They returned to the lookout and arranged the old vampire’s body so it looked as if he was merely sleeping. With Pet taking the lead they headed deeper into camp.

  It wasn’t long before the tracker understood that there was something seriously wrong with the camp’s atmosphere. It was just too quiet. Most of the bonfires were close to burning out, little more than small stacks of smouldering ash.

  Nearly every soldier or vehicle had gone.

  But gone where? Jacob wondered.

  South!

  He was too late. Ezekiel had already moved his army southwards, and towards … home. It hit him like a sledgehammer. Home. The one place he had continually tried to avoid – with its cramped spaces, bleak atmosphere, damp walls and worn-out people – was home. He felt a sudden and unexpected rage build within him. How dare Ezekiel threaten his people, his family?

  How long had it been since the army had moved out? He dropped to the ground and found new tracks cut into the soft mud. They’d left recently, possibly as little as an hour or two ago.

  He looked to the highway and found it deserted. The trees to the south were still, silent. He took an unconscious step towards the dark woodland and then stopped. Two things came to him: one, Pet would not be able to keep up; and, two, would the leader of the vampires really trek through this damp, miserable woodland with the rest of his foot soldiers? No. Ezekiel would have made his way south via the highways, protected by a fleet of armed transports, no doubt.

  Jacob spun full circle. He needed transport of his own. Scattered about were abandoned trucks, cars, a school bus of all things, and other vehicles that varied in shape and design. He moved to the first: no keys, no steering column and a complete wreck. The next proved just as useless: four flat tires sunken into the mud. From one vehicle to the next he moved, but found only lumps of twisted metal and empty gas tanks.

  His search eventually brought him closer to one of the few remaining campfires. Silhouettes looked to be dancing eerily around it, caught on a flickering background. Over the roar of flames he heard the cackle of laughter. Three vampires stood together, overshadowing a powerful-looking motorbike. The bike looked well-maintained. A dirt bike, which looked like it could handle both the woodlands and the highway with equal measure. And the fact that helmet and goggles hung from the handlebars promised the possibility of a working machine. All three vampires had machineguns hanging from their shoulders. Damn.

  The tracker reached into his pocket and felt at the small canister inside. Plenty of power to blow all three to smithereens, including the bike, time for a bit of creativity. He pulled the frag grenade free and held it tight. It was going be all about timing and placement. He searched the immediate area and, after a couple of minutes of contemplation, he made his choice.

  He directed Pet over to the school bus. Most of the original yellow paint had faded and been replaced by a coat of rusty metal. Large holes had appeared on the vehicle’s body, eaten away by time and the elements. Jacob circled around the bus, which brought him to the front doors. One was in danger of falling off and the other had been bent out of shape and pushed inwards; together, they formed a narrow entry point. There was no way Pet was going to climb inside without notifying the entire world.

  “Okay, I’m going inside. You’re gonna stay here – real quiet like, right?”

  The vampire’s head jerked up and down. “Real quiet,” Pet repeated in a crackle of noise.

  Jacob shook his head. I must be crazy, he thought. He examined the top of the frag grenade and found a pin through the centre of the timer. Before he pulled the pin, he turned the timer right down to its lowest setting. If Pet made a move, they’d both be dancing in hell tonight. The safety came away with a slight ping. He kept his thumb over the timer, pressing it down, keeping the detonator from activating.

  He took one last look at Pet. Then stood on the first step. It sank with a grate of corroded metal. He stepped to the next and that one held. With a sideways twist, he threaded himself through the narrow opening and c
limbed inside. Pet stayed thankfully silent. Jacob turned the timer to its maximum of two minutes and then released the detonator. A slight ticking noise signalled for him to hurry.

  He looked around the interior for the best place to put it. Two rows of seats ran in parallel down either side of the bus. Once it had been packed full of spirited youngsters, but now the only thing it was capable of delivering would be dust and damnation. Almost all of the side windows had been smashed, with only the back windshield intact. He crept along the aisle, careful to avoid the many holes along the way, and reached the rear of the bus. Beyond the grime-covered glass, the campfire flickered brightly. In a turn of good luck the bus was positioned with the back facing the vampires’ bonfire. Perfect. He dropped the grenade at the sill and quickly returned to the front exit.

  Outside again, he led Pet quickly away. They crossed over to the trio of undead. And as they approached, Jacob began to rant as if he was in dispute with the vampire at his side.

  One of the guards turned towards the noise. “What the hell is this all about?” the guard asked.

  “I’m telling you,” Jacob continued, “it wouldn’t be the first time Raphael’s mob got caught snooping around this far north.”

  The guard stepped up to block the newcomers’ path. “What’s this ruckus about?” he demanded.

  The tracker stopped instantly, as if the vampire had caught him unawares. “Gee pal, you almost scared the crap out of me,” he said, feigning surprise.

  “What’s with all the noise?” the guard asked.

  “I’m just telling my friend here that the southern clans have the capability and gall to attack us this far north. Yes sir.”

  The vampire’s face folded itself into a look of bewilderment. “I haven’t heard anything about the southern clans.”

  Jacob stepped closer, as close to the vampire’s ear as he dared. “That’s just it. You won’t hear anything until it’s too late.” He reared back and gave the guard a look of concern. “Keep your eyes peeled, they could strike at any time.” From the corner of his eye he saw Pet wander off to one side. For the love of God! “MY FRIEND AND I,” he emphasised, drawing Pet’s attention. “Were just about to get our heads DOWN for the night.”