by Paul Freeman
Logan had taken to the road, always moving. He figured it would be safer that way. Towns and cities were being torn apart by their own inhabitants. Undesirables were beginning to take control everywhere he went. People seeking protection from the feeders fell prey to opportunists, human vampires sucking the life out of civilization. Then he began to hear rumors from other travelers about large swaths of the country becoming uninhabitable because of nuclear power plants going into meltdown. Radiation turned the earth, water, even the air poisonous, turning people into deformed caricatures of themselves. So he kept on moving. Always looking for a safe place to spend the night. He quickly realized that the feeders were like any other predator and followed their prey. They gathered close to areas with large populations, where the pickings were good. Out in the wilderness it was a little safer, but he still had to be wary and never travelled in the hours of darkness. He didn’t always travel alone, sometimes he would hook up with other individuals or small groups, but inevitably someone would let him down, or try to take advantage. He had pretty much resigned himself to a life of solitude, always looking over his shoulder, when he stumbled across Colony.
At first he’d seen it as somewhere he could beg or steal some supplies from. It was a smaller community back then. A handful of families gathered in a deserted town. They’d managed to build a stout wooden fence around it which afforded it some protection from marauders and feeders alike, and from wanders like him who would seek to gain what they could from the people hidden behind the wall.
They had a pastor too, but he was no ordinary man of God. Straight away Logan realized he was not someone he wanted to mess with. When he looked into his eyes there was such depth in them like none he’d ever seen in a man before. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was like the preacher could see into his heart and read his soul. Logan got the impression that he had no qualms about acting as judge and juror to all who trespassed against his flock. He offered his services in exchange for a place to stay and regular meals. He’d no trade that was useful in the post-Fall world, but he was young and relatively strong considering what he’d been through. He was glad he spoke truthfully about his offer, if not he was sure the pastor would have read his thoughts and had no qualms about sending him on his way… or worse.
A year later he and Elaine were married. Not in the eyes of God, for he soon learned that Pastor could be an unforgiving bastard and as far as the preacher was concerned the betrayal of humanity by the Lord was not something he would ever absolve. The young couple exchanged vows to each other, all done before the residents of colony and their pastor to make it official in their own way. Life it seemed would carry on, one way or another, even if the survivors had been catapulted back into the eighteenth century.
Somehow over the years he’d earned the trust of Pastor and the other folks of Colony, so much so that when the community’s leader was away, most people deferred to Logan. Sometimes it was nice to be in charge, sometimes it was a real shit. They reached the home Will Davis had shared with his parents and two younger siblings, a boy and a girl.
“Want me to do the talking this time?” he asked Jeb, wincing at the sight of the cut lip and bruise developing beside the man’s eye.
“Naw, I think I should tell ’em. It was me who… found the boy.”
The Davises didn’t take the news any better than Harry’s wife had and Logan reckoned that Jeb was not going to be the most popular man in town for a very long time to come. He had sympathy for him, just wished things had turned out different.
Later that night, he did his usual rounds making sure Colony was locked up for the night and folks had their windows and doors closed. He returned to his own home, locked up and banked up the fire in the living space, and made sure the oil lanterns had the bedroom well lit up. Sleep was a long time coming as his mind dwelt on the two latest deaths suffered by the community and the three newcomers. He wondered if Pastor would accept them when he returned from his latest vampire hunting trip. There was a dark side to the one-time preacher, a man to be feared… a man of the times.
It seemed as if he’d only just drifted off to sleep when he was woken by Elaine. “Logan – Logan, I heard something,” she said in a whisper when he turned bleary eyes on her, then shushed his response as she listened.
Then he heard it, a thump above them. The roof, he thought and reached for his pistol. He heard a scraping noise then followed by another bang overhead. They both listened and then jumped when something rattled the shutter over the window.
All color had drained from Elaine’s face. “They’re here,” he said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He left the forest quickly, riding one horse leading the other. He had spent hours searching for any trace of the girl, but it was as if she had vanished into thin air. Maybe she had. When he left the trees the mountains were visible against the distant skyline, dark and foreboding and now with even more sinister connotations. Could it be that they were home to a new breed of feeder, ones who could walk in the light? He told himself that she was only a child and had not threatened him in any way. Indeed it was he who had frightened her. She had saved him from the wild dogs and simply came to him to share his food. But could he take the chance?
He found shelter in the shell of an old building that had once been a church. Now, like the world, it was a poor reflection of its former self. It would suffice to give him sanctuary from the creatures who haunted the night, and had done on more than one occasion. He had spent hours in the past repairing the roof and heavy front door – it was good to have safe places to come when travelling away from Colony. The stained-glass windows were long gone, and much of the firewood he’d squirreled away had been used – that was okay, if it gave a traveler comfort and a sanctuary for a night that was a good thing. The marble altar still stood in its place, for that he was thankful. It meant no curious wanderer had found the secret door below it where he had secreted supplies and in an emergency could even crawl into himself.
The fire he lit cast eerie shadows up the walls and onto the high ceiling, making it almost worse than being outside underneath the dark sky and vulnerable to undead eyes who could see far better than him in the inky black of night. He slid back the secret panel below the altar and pulled out a bottle of water and some spare cartridges for the shotgun.
He remembered back to the Fall. People had flocked to the churches of all denominations, believing in the old folk tales that the church and its officers could offer them some sort of protection against the spawn of the Devil. They were wrong. Holy ground was no safer than any other place and servants of the Lord died and then turned just like everybody else.
It was cold in the night, even with the flames burning bright. A dry branch split in the fire with a loud crack throwing up sparks. He would have liked more time to hunt for the girl but didn’t want to be caught in the forest in the dark when he knew there were feeders in the area. When he got back to Colony he would load up with supplies and head back out into the wild. It would be a dangerous trek and not one he relished. Tiredness gnawed at his brain. He’d not slept in days now and the scratch from the vampire still hurt. He was fairly sure the poultice had drawn out the vampire venom, but even so, in the new world without antibiotics, infection had become a serial killer.
Every so often he would have to shake himself awake as sleep crept up on him like a silent assassin in the night. He would feel his eyes grow heavy and try as he might he could not stop them from closing. Moonlight shone through the high, arched windows, while a cool breeze drifted through the openings where glass once protected the inside from the elements. His eyes closed to the sound of insects who, like the vampires, came alive at night and the larger animals and birds who prey on them in the darkness.
He was in the clearing again; mist drifted through the trees. His heart pulsed in trepidation as he waited on the clan. When they arrived he realized they all bore the faces of people he’d known throughout his life, people from Colony an
d Old-World friends and acquaintances. All were dead, all had turned. Although recognizable, their skin was alabaster white, their eyes dark and dead. They circled around him as they melted from the trees. Hundreds of people, it was like gazing down at his congregation from the pulpit. No, that was a different man. How many sermons had he delivered to these people? How often had he preached to them and told them how to live their lives?
Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
They moved closer, encircling him, pointing accusing fingers at him. ‘No!’ he wanted to cry. Why should they judge him? Why should he receive their scorn, he who has paid for their and his own sins multiple times? Look not to me to cast your blame, he thought. He raised the shotgun then. He recognized faces of those he’d not only known in life but those who he’d known in death; people he’d put down, releasing them from the curse of the living dead. Is this what happens to their souls? he wondered. To be condemned to an everlasting Purgatory of haunting the dreams of the living.
The big alpha male pushed through the crowd, his eyes bearing the tormented hunger of the vampire. The feeder was in front of him now, baring his fangs. His hands ending in claws dripping blood, he raised one to his mouth and slid a black tongue along it, catching each drop of blood as it fell.
The blood of man is tainted with sin and disease, he thought. The vampire leered at him, his lips ruby red as a crimson trail slid down his chin. And my blood most of all. He raised the shotgun.
Before he could pull the trigger he felt something tugging his hand. When he looked down the girl was there, pulling on the ends of his fingers. When he met her gaze she smiled at him, exposing her own fangs. In her other hand she held something furry. She held it up and he saw that she was offering him a rabbit she clutched by the back of the neck. The animal was still, but he could see it was alive, petrified into submission, yet somehow he knew it was the same one he’d killed and cooked for her earlier that day. She slid her free hand into his and led him through the ranks of vampires, a sea of undead parted to let them through. Mist swirled around the lost souls until it thickened enough to hide their grotesque faces, hideous parodies of men and women. None tried to molest or block him as the girl led him away from the clearing.
When he woke bright sunlight streamed through the open windows, catching motes of dust in yellow beams, giving them life, like a multitude of tiny sea creatures swimming in a stream of liquid gold.
He cursed himself for a fool and leaped up. Not only had he slept through the night, but he’d allowed his fire to burn out. He was lucky he’d woken up at all and not become a simple meal for a horde of feeders.
As he left the church and pushed the solid doors closed he spotted a sign written on a piece of wood and nailed to the top of the door: ‘A beacon of light in the darkness. Rest and be thankful, and leave a gift for those who follow.’ A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. He had not placed the sign there, but he was glad someone had found shelter and was grateful enough to ask others to be respectful of the needs of any travelers who may need a safe place to spend a night.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jeb sat by the fire, images of Will Davis and Harry flashing across his mind. He felt guilty about Harry’s death and Will’s, even though the boy was already dead when he shot him. Most of all he felt guilty at the relief he felt that Amy was alive. His happiness at finding his daughter overrode any grief he felt for the dead men, and this made his guilt burn strongly. He heard her mooching around in the tight attic room above him. Every movement made the house creak like a rickety boat caught in a maelstrom. He brought a cup to his lips and grimaced as he drank down the fiery spirit – Colony’s finest rotgut. The fire warmed his face while the alcohol burned his insides. Outside night shaded the land in darkness. He shivered and was thankful that he was home, indoors and beside a glowing fire.
In the early days after the Fall people quickly learned that they had to surrender the night to the undead. To be caught outside when the sun had dropped meant death, it still did, but he had survived… Amy had survived. God had deserted his people on Earth, leastways that’s how Pastor called it, and Jeb figured, who was he to question? As of yet no other deity had stepped forward to take up the vacant post, so Jeb drank to the god of good fortune, whoever the hell he was.
Amy screamed and he was on his feet in a flash. His rifle was leaning against the stone fireplace; he scooped it into his hand as he ran for the ladder up to Amy’s small room. He scrambled up and found her sitting up in bed. He raised an eyebrow as she regarded him with a confused expression.
“I had a dream. I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head. Then the tears came.
Jeb clambered into the attic and sat on the bed beside her. He remembered doing just the same thing when she was a little girl and holding her tight while she shed tears for the memory of a mother she’d hardly known. Back then he would climb into the bed with her and hold her until she fell asleep again. Back then she was a perfect fit for the crook of his elbow, a weight he was happy to bear. She was a bit old for that now.
“It’ll be okay, hon. Everything will be okay.”
Death had become a way of life for survivors of the Fall. That’s not to say it was easy – it’s never easy to lose a loved one, it just becomes the norm. Every family living within the relative safety of Colony had suffered loss over the years, each tragedy adding one more scar to the psyche of the group. The latest deaths would too, but life would go on and the dead would live forever in the memories of those left behind to mourn them. So it was for Jeb and Amy when he’d had to put down the woman he loved.
He was snapped out of his recollections when he heard a thud overhead. Amy stiffened in his arms. “What was that?” she asked, her voice quivering in fear.
Jeb shook his head, wanting to reassure his daughter that all was well, but he wasn’t so sure. “Stay here,” he said quietly and climbed back down the ladder. The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing an orange glow into the room. He moved as quietly as he could, daring not to breathe as he approached the shuttered window. He tried to look out through the crack where the shutters met but all he could see was a thin line of the poorly lit street.
“There’s something on the roof,” Amy said in an exaggerated whisper, as she peered over the top of the ladder.
Jeb waved her to silence as he listened intently. There was something up there right enough, he could hear it scrambling above them. “Could be just a raccoon,” he said. He crept over to the front door with the intention of opening it a crack. As he reached for the handle he heard a scream coming from outside and almost instantaneously the door crashed inwards. Jeb was shoved backwards by the force of the door. He landed on his back in the middle of the room. Amy screamed as a feeder appeared in the doorway, filling the entrance with its undead bulk. It snarled and hissed at Jeb, reluctant to come inside and into the glare of the fire. It quickly overcame its fear of the light, its desire to feed on the warm blood pulsing through Jeb’s veins overriding any reluctance to come into the golden glow.
Jeb fired, hitting the monster in the shoulder. It screeched a wail of pain and stopped momentarily, then it came on, snarling, exposing its fangs in an angry mouth. Jeb scrambled to his feet and fired again, but the motion of getting up made him aim wide, sending splinters of wood raining down on the vampire as he shot over the door. The feeder swatted the rifle out of his hand, twisting Jeb’s wrist back as he did so. Jeb ducked under its grasping arms and snatched a flaming log from the fire, ignoring the pain from the burning brand. He stabbed the air between them with the log pushing the feeder back. The feeder snarled and hissed, but backed away from the flame and out towards the doorway. An explosion deafened him in the confined space and the vampire was knocked off its feet and back outside. Jeb flung the log, as much at the feeder as out of his burning hand and then kicked the door closed.
Amy stood beside the fire, her hands shaking as she held the rifle up. Jeb s
lammed the latch in place before turning to his daughter.
“Your hand,” she said.
He held it up, it was red and blistered. He winced as the adrenalin subsided and the pain took over. “Damn it to hell,” he said.
“Is it dead?”
“Yeah, I think so. That was good shootin’, girl.” He pulled her into his chest then with his good hand. The injured one began to throb.
Outside another scream rang out, followed by shouts and cries and the thunder of gunfire.
*
Logan stared at the rattling shutter, Elaine by his side. He had a pistol in his hands pointed at the window. They flew open, making Elaine scream as a white, upside down head appeared in the opening. The vampire leered in at them, slashing in thin air with a clawed hand. Logan fired, hitting the feeder between the eyes. They heard a crash coming from upstairs then.
“There’s one in the house,” Elaine said. Logan nodded as he turned around.
“Close the shutters,” he said as he trained his gun on the stairs, moving slowly towards them.
“Don’t you dare go up there,” Elaine said, her lip trembling.
From outside he could hear screaming and then the sound of gunshots. What the hell is going on? he wondered. It was a long time since the settlement came under attack. Yes, they would have occasional vampires coming over the wall at night and hunting for anyone who’d strayed outside on their own, but he couldn’t remember them ever assaulting the homes while people were inside.
