by Phil Maxey
She couldn’t wait.
Two hundred yards away in another large white building, Joel sat on the end of a camping bed. The long single room he was in had empty beds lining each wall. No doubt waiting for the next set of arrivals.
He swallowed. His hunger was coming in painful waves, each one more determined to make itself heard than the last. He needed to find blood from somewhere.
At least they made it. The fence seemed pretty secure, and everyone he had met so far seemed to be taking their roles seriously.
The sound of vehicles vibrated through the windows.
He’s here.
Art had left him in the hut almost an hour ago, saying that he will return with Mr. Holland.
Joel still wasn’t clear what official role Holland had, but everyone appeared to respect him.
The door opened, bringing with it some autumn chill, and in walked a group of people. Two of the largest walked forward first. They walked up to Joel, looking him over. Joel stood.
“Oh, no need to stand, son,” said a stout man with thinning gray hair. He sat on the bed opposite Joel’s.
The rest of the group stayed near the door.
“Art tells me you’re from the Cheyenne base? And that it was destroyed?”
“They were doing experiments with the scourge virus, and things went wrong. People died. We all came from there, apart from Donnie who came from a farm down south.”
Holland shook his head. “We lost contact with them a few days back. It was their communications that were linking all the remaining camps… now, we’re on our own.” He got to his feet. “But then, we were anyway. Thanks for the info, son. Oh, and that produce you brought up. Going to come in real handy. The town thanks you.”
Joel went to talk, but Holland was already on his way to the exit with his two guards.
CHAPTER NINE
Amos's eyes felt almost as heavy as his arms, but he lifted them anyway.
Daylight.
Through strands of hair he looked at the drawn drapes and the dull gray glow which filtered through them.
How long have we been sleeping?
He presumed there was still a ‘we.’ After things went south in the luxury hotel in the middle of nowhere, they hot-wired a sedan and headed east. The Humvees were missing. Shaw and Fields had gotten away. Not that it mattered.
The soreness in his arm flooded back into his mind. He tried to force the sensation away, but it came regardless.
Able to force feelings on others, but can’t do shit to my own.
Pushing the sheet back, he looked at a torn rag that was tied around his lower arm.
They had only driven a few hundred feet along the highway when he remembered the tracking chips implanted inside them. They were going to have to come out. Some agonizing moments later, and with the help of a screwdriver in the glove department, his and Dalton’s chips were laying on the side of the road. Kizzie’s took a further thirty minutes, and driving the front wheel of the sedan over her band for her to also be free. Her own attempts to shrink her arm so the band fell off were thwarted by the device sending an electric shock into her nervous system. Brute force though won through in the end.
Two hours later, they were driving into the outskirts of Salt Lake City as the sun was rising, and the first hotel they found was the one they were now all sleeping in. That was if the others hadn’t already left.
He calmed his mind and probed outwards looking for the thoughts of others. He found two. Kizzy was still sleeping in the room next door, but Dalton was somewhere else. Somewhere almost out of detection.
Amos sat up, walked to the window, and peered through a small gap in the drapes. By the position of the sun he guessed it was late afternoon. If Copeland’s people had left San Jose as soon as they knew their pets had ran off, it wouldn’t be too long before they reached where the old guy, Hawkins, had been killed.
Need to get back on the road.
Dalton’s thoughts were drawing closer.
Coming back.
He tracked the man-wolf into the lobby, up the back stairwell and, when Dalton pushed the bedroom door open without knocking, he was leaning against the wall looking at him.
Dalton threw a bag of blood at him. “Drink some, but not all. The rest is for the girl.” He noticed Amos’s arm. “Why you ain’t healed?”
Amos picked up the bag, pulled the plastic stopper out, and let the good stuff flow into his mouth. After a few seconds he stopped, being aware of Dalton watching. “I don’t heal like other vamps. I’m just like every other poor sap in that regard.” He threw the bag back to the big guy. “We need to get back on the road, they will be coming.”
“Let them come. I’ll kill them too.”
Amos laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“Look at the tattoo on your arm.”
“I don’t need to look I know what it says.”
“Then what does it say?”
“A-21-54. What of it?”
“The first number is your classification. Werewolves are number twenty one…”
“OK, so?”
“And the second number is the vamp-human group we were part of…”
Dalton’s eyes widened.
“Yup. There’s another fifty-three squads out there made up of who knows what. And one or more of them will probably be on their way to take us back to Daddy as we stand in this moderately nice room.”
“So, what we gonna do? You’re the smart one of us. What’s the plan?”
Amos was surprised the mountain of a wolf-guy relinquished control to him so easily. Good thing he did already have a plan. “Humans. We find human camps. We blend in. We use them as shields if the corporation comes calling.”
Dalton’s head wavered slightly. “And what if they discover what we are? They will treat us the same as Copeland’s people.”
“Then we just gotta make sure we don’t get discovered.”
“Fine. You know where one of these camps is?”
Amos smiled. “There were a few knocking around Hawkins’ brain, but the best protected was one on the Canadian border. It's run by prisoners from a prison up there.”
*****
Joel rubbed his fingers together. He was beginning to think that maybe finding a camp near the Mexican border would have been a better idea. He looked into the darkness that now pervaded the quarantine area of the camp and at the other buildings which ran along a two-mile stretch of fence near the main gate. He wouldn’t be going back to the safety of his own hut until he found some blood. It wasn’t a matter of choice. If he didn’t get something inside him soon, he would lose control and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. He was sure it was the same for the others if not even more difficult.
He peered around the corner of another of the dorm buildings. This one, he could tell, was full of other people. Those that also sought refuge. Their heartbeats all played in his mind, like a brigade of drummers and he had to stop for a moment to quieten the music.
Ahead, brightly lit by a light over its door, was the medical center. It was twice as big as the other huts, and he could tell it also contained people. Most were sleeping, but a few were still awake. He could just about make out hushed conversations. There were also two nurses stationed inside. One near the entrance and another on the actual ward itself, luckily she was sleeping. The other was reading, with her feet up on the desk in front of her.
There was also blood. And not just the kind that still resided inside a body. This was detached, pure. But he was having a hard time pinning down its location. The wounds which those inside had were confusing his senses.
Need to get closer.
He looked across to the fence and the closest wooden guard station which was lost to his view behind another hut. He listened into the night.
No movement.
But there was something over there. He could hear hearts, and odors drifted on the breeze.
Going to have to risk it.
He sprinted
forward. Even if a guard had have been watching, they would have just seen a blur. He crept alongside the wooden wall of the building, crouching, but also sniffing the air, trying to get any indication of where the blood bank was located.
Ah…
He didn’t smell the blood, but the pale blue light of a refrigeration unit seeped out of the blinds above his head. He stood more upright, looking at the inside of the window for a latch or a lock he could break when a strong canine odor washed across his face.
Guard dog?
He spun around expecting to see the glowing eyes of a dog looking back at him, and it’s owner close behind, but there wasn’t one. The stench was getting stronger.
Coming from…
He looked up. A shadowy figure, which resembled a beast from a late-night movie, was creeping across the roof of the building.
It stopped above and looked directly at him then ducked down. Before Joel could react, it dropped down into the room in front of him, and immediately made its way to the clear-fronted blood bank.
In the blue glow from the refrigerator, Joel watched a doglike creature, but which stood on two feet like a human, snap off the lock which held the door closed and grabbed—
“Hey, what you doing there?” shouted a guard, a hundred yards away, at Joel.
He swore in frustration, the unknown creature had distracted him. He looked back through the gap in the blinds to the room. The werewolf had gone.
The guard started running towards Joel, one hand holding a pistol, the other trying to speak into a radio.
Joel turned and sprinted away, he was out of sight of the guard before the middle-aged man covered half the distance to where he just was.
As Joel moved back into the shadows near his own hut he scanned his surroundings trying to pick up the scent of the other creature, but it was lost to him.
He pushed the window back open to the long hut he had earlier escaped from and climbed back inside to the restroom.
He immediately realized he was not alone.
A flashlight illuminated Marina standing in front of him.
“Did you get the blood?”
They both looked at the nearby wall due to the sounds of guards off in the distance.
He shook his head. “No, something else got to it before me.”
“Something?”
“A creature dropped down into the blood bank room. I’ve not seen its type before, but it wasn’t a vamp, looked more doglike…”
She scoffed. “A werewolf?”
Joel tilted his head with an expression which belied his own bemusement at what he just witnessed. “That’s what it looked like.”
A noise made them both stop. Bill walked into the restroom and sheepishly walked a few feet to the cubicle before he realized he wasn’t alone. “Everything okay in here?”
Marina ignored his comment, instead keeping her gaze on Joel. “We have to get the blood! The urge is getting… it’s getting so I fear to be around… I need to get some blood!” She went to walk to the window. Joel held his hand up.
“Give me a few more hours and you’ll have it.”
“There’s going to be guards everywhere! Where are you going to get it from?”
“I have an idea where the blood is.”
“You know who the creature is?”
Joel nodded.
Marina turned and left, walking past Bill on her way out.
“Creature?” said Bill to Joel.
Joel looked through the blinds. He could hear shouting in the distance, but he was sure the guards were still far enough away for him to get to the next hut along. He pushed the window open a small way and let his leg drop into the gap. “Can you stay in here and lock the restroom door for twenty minutes?” he said to Bill.
“Sure.”
Joel then let the rest of his body slide down, and he landed neatly on the wet grass outside.
The angry conversations were getting louder. He could also now see the sweeps of flashlight beams.
Turning, he ran into the dark. His eyes picked out the uneven ground, and he swiftly moved to the front of his hut, and then across to the one just behind it. Without stopping, he sprang the fifteen feet upwards and landed on the roof. Even in the dark, he could feel the heat coming from the asphalt leading to the hatch halfway along the structure. He quickly got to it, allowed his fingers to feel around the edge for a handle then pulled it up. Below in the gloom he just about made out the details of shelves covered with sheets, bottles, and other cleaning materials. He could also smell the metallic smell of blood rising from the room below.
Dogs barking made him turn around. There were now a few groups of guards, some with dogs moving between the huts.
Shit.
He dropped down into the large closet, and immediately crouched and let his finger slide across the smooth floor. He quickly placed it in his mouth.
Blood.
The floor of the cleaning closet was covered in spots of the stuff.
Stupid kid.
He stood and listened to the door. Only a low hum of heavy breathing came from the other side. Opening it gently, he crept out into the small hallway, and then looked onto the larger sleeping section of the building. It was laid out the same as all the others, ten beds on both sides. The lights were off, but that wasn’t a problem for him for he could smell the source of the blood clearly.
Fifth bed on the left.
He moved across the floor, being sure to stay away from any boards that began to creak, and bent down as he moved around the bed that Donnie Bradley was pretending to be asleep in.
Joel moved past the satchel that was stashed beneath the bed, and instead placed his hand directly across the teen’s mouth. Despite the darkness, he knew Donnie could see his face quite well.
Donnie’s eyes were wide.
Joel leaned in close. “I’m taking the blood—” he whispered.
Donnie’s expression grew more agitated.
“They are going to search every inch of these huts for who took it! I think they might find it under your bed,” said Joel sarcastically.
Donnie’s eyes looked away.
“If you need more just come to me and you can have it. And clean up that closet!”
Joel felt Donnie nod beneath his hand. He then let go, bent down, grabbed the bag, and quickly made his way to the entrance to the roof.
“Should we wake Holland?” came a voice drifting on the night air from the hatch above Joel.
They’re outside…
“He’s going to be pissed as it is that we let one in. I’d rather not have him pissed as well that we woke him at three a.m.”
Joel jumped up, grabbing the edge of the hatch, and pulled himself onto the roof as silently as a cat. He then closed it.
He could hear the heartbeats of at least seven men, two down to his left, one to his right, and four between the two huts.
He crept along the roof, keeping low, and keeping track of where the guards were. The ones between the huts were not moving.
Guarding the doors.
There was no way he was getting back down to the ground. He looked at the other roof, roughly twenty feet away, then started to back up.
As Joel flew over their heads, landing on the roof of his own hut, the four guards were talking about how heads were going to roll in the morning.
CHAPTER TEN
As Dalton drove the pickup along highway twenty, the wall of intense darkness fell away from the road.
“Hey, pull over here, maybe there’s some food in that store,” said Kizzy, pointing to the wooden construction visible in their headlights.
“You don’t need food, you’re a vamp,” said Dalton.
“I don’t need food, I want food!” she said, sitting in the passenger’s seat.
Amos could feel the anger inside the big man driving and the equal but opposite longing in the girl next to him.
“We’ve been driving for hours, let’s pause for a bit. We can get some fuel from any
vehicles around here while we’re at it,” said Amos in the back.
Dalton swung the pickup onto the gravelly forecourt, making the other two sway violently to the left. The pickup skidded to a stop.
“Man, you need to take a chill pill,” said Kizzy, righting herself then pushing the door open.
Both men watched the young girl disappear into the shadows at the front of the building.
“She’s right you know…” said Amos to the man in front.
“Stay out of my head, kid.”
“Hey, I ain’t gotta read your mind to—”
A bright flash of light and a boom, was immediately followed by Kizzy flying backwards. They both whipped their heads towards the store.
Amos then realized the itch in his brain was the distant thoughts of a human. He and Dalton jumped out of the pickup, and ran towards the girl who was motionless on the ground.
“You get going!” shouted an elderly man from inside. “Nothing here for ya! Take your dead and go!”
Another boom made Amos and Dalton duck. They looked down at Kizzy, her body visible in the headlights. A five inch hole sat where her chest used to be.
“She ain’t coming back from that!” shouted Dalton. He then looked up at the store, and his form started to expand.
“Wait!” shouted Amos, looking at Kizzy. “Look!”
Kizzy’s arms and legs started to twitch, and flesh, muscles, and arteries started to emerge, forming a bridge across the gap in her torso.
Another boom was accompanied with dust and stones flying up at them.
Amos grabbed Kizzy’s shoulders. “Help me move her back around the pickup.”
Dalton still looked human, despite his clawed hands.
They both pulled the girl backwards until she was out of range. Dalton stood and went to charge forward.
Amos placed his hand on the big guy’s arm. “Hold on. People are usually more useful alive, right?”
“He shot first!”
Kizzy moved her head and her eyes opened. She looked down at her chest. “What the fuck happened to me…”
“Some old dude shot you,” said Dalton. “Amos don’t want me to end him, but I’m thinking about doing it anyway.”
