by Philip Henry
‘She’s not here at the minute,’ Tom said. ‘Can I take a message?’ Now he really felt useless. Everyone else was out there fighting the forces of evil and he was at home doing the admin.
‘Uh… I don’t… I mean, are you…?’
‘Yes, I’m Ministry if that’s what you’re asking.’ It would take too long to explain what he really was, and Tom wasn’t even sure he knew himself.
‘OK. This is Portrush Police Station. We’ve got a serious situation at Kelly’s.’
‘The nightclub?’
‘Yeah. Four… of them…’
‘Vampires?’
‘Yeah. Four of them showed up on Harleys, now they’ve locked the place down. We can’t get in, but we’re getting hundreds of phone calls from the people trapped inside. They’re killing them all. We don’t know what to do!’ The young officer sounded almost hysterical, but he calmed himself down with several deep breaths before adding in a pleading whisper, ‘My younger sister’s in there.’
Tom grabbed his sword. ‘Sit tight. I’m on my way.’
He slammed the phone down and ran out of Chloe’s house, slamming the door behind him.
There was blood on the dancefloor.
Lance was spinning doughnuts in the crimson pool. Behind his bike he was trailing a clubber who he had decided was way too old to be dressed the way he was. Lance kept a three-pronged abseiling hook for such occasions. He hooked it through the clubbers neck and out through his mouth, then dragged him around by it. He’d once used it to drag an unhelpful gas station attendant all the way across the Nevada desert.
The burning rubber of his Harley’s back tyre was mixing with the smell of searing blood, exhaust fumes and the decomposing dead to create a nauseating smell. His three companions watched and laughed while the captives huddled against the walls. Some were throwing-up from the noxious fumes in the confined space. Lance rode off the dancefloor, parked his Harley by the bar and killed the engine. He unhooked the corpse and tossed it aside.
‘Damn, D, you should try that, man,’ Lance said, between swigs of whiskey. ‘Need to re-wet the floor though; I think I done dried it all up.’ Lance’s drawl matched his slovenly appearance. Unlike most vampires, he was not vain in the slightest and was proud of the fact that he hadn’t changed his clothes or bathed in forty-seven years. The result being that even if you didn’t have a supernatural sense of smell, you caught his scent from thirty feet away.
‘Maybe later. We need to get organized first, afore sun-up.’ D (or Big D as he was more widely known) stood up and stretched. He looked good in his black leathers and his muscular frame gave him an aura of solidity; like punching him would be like punching granite, which is why few ever tried. He was the leader of this gang and no-one ever challenged his authority. He looked to the remaining members of his gang. ‘Warren, Minnie, separate the cattle.’ He sat back down and returned to his drink.
There were fresh screams as Warren and Minnie approached the clubbers in their short dresses and best shirts. Their make-up ran with tears now, their hair gel sweating down their cheeks.
Warren approached the women, most of whom looked too young to meet the eighteen year age limit imposed by the club. He was an intimidating figure; six foot five, his hair shaved short and wearing a camouflage jacket. He had broad shoulders and an upper torso that was about as close as evolution could get to creating a living battering ram. He had been a soldier in his mortal life but not guns, bombs or even knives, had given him the killing intimacy of biting. The sensation of drinking someone else’s life-force and making it his own was unique and incomparable. He still employed some of the more sadistic torture techniques he had learned in the army, but these days they were not to obtain information; they were just for fun.
Minnie was the only female in the group, though her femininity was not immediately apparent. She had a flat chest and no ass to speak of. She was thin, painfully thin. The eating disorders she had had in her mortal life had carried over to her vampiric existence. She ate just enough blood to keep herself alive and no more. Her appearance had suffered because of it. Not in her eyes though. She still believed what the magazines told her: thinner was better. But she had taken this belief to extremes that would have killed any mortal woman. Her skin hugged her skeleton tightly. When naked she could see almost every bone in her body and in her eyes this was the ideal she had been trying to achieve her whole mortal life. Back in the 1980s she had cut herself open and removed her two bottom ribs in an attempt to make her stomach flatter and her already tiny waist even smaller. As a consequence she now had trouble finding any clothes to fit her. She mostly wore children’s clothes, but even then she needed a belt to hold the trousers up. Her face was as close to looking like a skull and still living as anyone had ever got. Her cheeks were sucked in, her eyes set deep in their sockets. She imagined herself (and her protruding cheekbones) the envy of every female who looked at her. Despite her emaciated appearance she was still stronger than any human, though probably weaker than any other vampire.
Big D and Lance watched from the bar, laughing as Warren and Minnie threw unworthy specimens over their shoulders like they were emptying a sock drawer. They herded the worthy into the SYNK, a smaller room where people who didn’t like the constant thump-thump-thump of dance music could go and listen to live music performed by a real band.
The band was still on stage – as per Lance’s instructions – when Warren and Minnie brought the worthy in. Lance had spared the band when the vampires had initially taken the club because they did a passable rendition of Sweet Home Alabama. Since then, the guitarist had effusively thanked the bass player for talking him into learning the Lynyrd Skynyrd classic and kept his fingers firmly on the D chord, ready to crank it out again at a moment’s notice.
The club’s DJ had not been so lucky. When Lance grilled him on classic rock trivia and found his knowledge severely lacking he had become the main source of the red stain on the dancefloor. In Lance’s opinion, someone who didn’t know their Creedence from their Jefferson Airplane had no right wasting oxygen other people could be using.
There were maybe a hundred people in the SYNK (including the band who were poised like a music video on pause, waiting for a cue to resume playing) when Warren and Minnie were finished driving the worthy inside. They stood at the doors looking hungrily at the assembled mortals who were quietly crying and holding each other. Big D walked up behind his two companions and put a hand on each of their shoulders, parting them and taking a few steps inside the SYNK.
‘You can all relax,’ Big D shouted.
The guitarist played the first few notes of Sweet Home Alabama then stopped. He mouthed the word sorry at Big D and then released his tensed hand from the fretboard and stretched it.
‘You’re the lucky ones,’ Big D continued. ‘Those ones we left in there, they’re the ones who should be worrying. We’re going to eat them.’
The crowd gasped as one and fresh tears broke out from many of the girls.
‘But you lot, you’re going to live. And live. And live.’ He took another couple of steps inside and lifted someone’s drink from the bar. ‘You see, things is going to change. Mankind’s time is up. You’ve had your shot and you’ve fucked it up. So now it’s our turn. In twenty-four hours vampires will take ownership of this planet and it all starts right here. Tell ‘em what the Corpora says, Minnie.’
Minnie stepped forward. She knew the passage by heart. She spoke loudly. ‘A door opened by grief will loose the children of the new age. And the blood of mankind shall be the milk of their infancy.’ Minnie bowed and stepped back again.
Big D had the floor again. ‘You’re going to be the first children of the new age. You may think us monsters now, but I guarantee you, in a week, you’ll be thanking us.’
Big D watched the assembled crowd. The girls quivered, crying. Some of them collapsed to the ground. Boyfriends held tightly to their girlfriends. Some of the braver males looked around the windowless room f
or any chance of escape.
‘There’s nowhere to go. And no-one can save you,’ Big D shouted triumphantly. ‘This is our world now!’ A strong but familiar smell stopped him from continuing his speech. He sniffed the air. Familiar, yes, but there was something different about it, too. He couldn’t quite place it.
Something rolled along the floor and hit the back of Big D’s ankles. He looked down behind him and saw Lance’s head (looking very surprised) age a few hundred years in a matter of seconds. He looked back into the main dancefloor, where Warren and Minnie were already staring and saw Tom standing with his sword pointing at the ground after a successful decapitation. Tom raised his head and looked into the furious eyes of Big D.
Warren looked around. The room was empty. Where were all the clubbers they were going to eat? Where were the unworthy?
Big D pushed his rage deep down inside and spoke to the child who stood before him in a more controlled tone. ‘This world is ours, boy. You gots balls but you’re no match for us.’
Tom drew his sword behind him and adjusted his stance to attack. ‘Guess again, asshole.’
The three vampires charged at him.
Tom needed to take them one at a time. He grabbed the skinny one around the throat and swirled her behind him. She flew into the air and slammed into the back wall of the club in a classic Wile E. Coyote pose. Tom spun around and readied himself for the other two. The one in the army jacket put a hand to the other’s chest and said, ‘You mind if I have this dance, D?’
The bigger vampire smiled and took a few steps back. ‘Be my guest, only leave something for me.’
‘I make no promises,’ Warren said with a smile. He drew out a large hunting knife and threw it from hand to hand, spinning it occasionally around his fingers.
Tom held his sword up to the circling vampire.
‘You gonna put your eye out with that, boy. Ain’t got much ‘sperience, have you? I’s surprised you’s pointing the right end at me if truth be told.’ He laughed to himself. Tom kept his gaze concentrated on the vampire. The taunts wouldn’t distract him. Warren lurched forward with his blade at incredible speed. Tom parried and brought his blade down hard towards the vampire’s neck. Warren jumped back quickly… but not quickly enough. He took a couple of steps back and put a hand up to his bleeding face, just to confirm what he was seeing on the ground was real.
They both looked down at Warren’s nose, lying on the dancefloor.
Tom couldn’t resist. ‘That’s to spite your face.’
‘Motherfucker!’ His voice sounded different without a nose. He turned to his leader, and Tom thought he detected a noticeable shift in the confidence of the leather-clad biker. ‘He cut off my fuckin’ nose, D!’ Warren threw down his knife and charged at Tom, all training and tactics forgotten in blind hatred. Tom leapt over his head and landed behind him. Before Warren could turn Tom had swung his sword and a second head was rolling across the floor.
Tom turned to the one they called D. ‘Your turn.’
The skinny vampire jumped on Tom’s back and locked her arms around his neck like a noose. Tom had to drop his sword to stop her from biting him. He ran backwards with her and slammed her into a bar. She released for a second but then tightened her grip again. Tom grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar and smashed it in her face. All he needed now was a match. He looked for the ashtrays on the bar and saw none.
Shit. Fucking smoking ban!
She wrapped her bony legs around his waist and squeezed. His lungs constricted, he could only take shallow breaths. He would lose consciousness soon and then it would be all over. He imagined kissing Sarah. Tom could feel the vampire’s bones pressing into his flesh. He looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. There was nothing. The vampire’s bones ground into him like iron railings. He had an idea. There were three steps down to the dancefloor. He had one chance.
He launched himself at the steps and turned mid-air. He fell hard on top of the vampire. She loosened her grip with the pain and Tom used that second to drive his elbow as hard as he could into her left ribs. He heard a loud snap and she released him. Tom spun around, on top of her now and saw the broken rib sticking up under her skin like morning glory under a duvet. He grabbed the rib, twisted it, directed it towards her heart and then slammed it with the heel of his hand.
She screamed and then shrivelled to a state not unlike her living appearance. Tom stood up and faced Big D. His sword was lying at the vampire’s feet. Big D kicked it behind him, out of reach.
‘What’s say we do this without weapons?’ Without waiting for an answer the vampire charged at Tom. Tom countered by throwing himself at the vampire, hitting him in the chest with both feet. Tom dropped to the ground. The vampire was unhurt and unmoved. Tom felt like he’d just tried to punch out a building. He scrambled backwards and got to his feet.
‘You can have that one for free. Next ‘un ’ll cost you.’
Tom punched the vampire as hard as he could in the face. Big D swiped his arm like he was annoyed at a fly. Tom went careening through the air and smashed into the bottles behind the bar. He fell to the ground followed closely by a rain of spirits and glass.
‘You see, you’ll never beat us ‘cause we’re stronger,’ Big D said, taking off his jacket and hanging it over the nearest chair. ‘That Darwin guy, he’d be proud of us. Survival of the fittest n’ all. Humans… you’re just the modern dinosaurs. Time to step aside and let someone else have a go at being top o’ the food chain.’
Big D heard a scuttling on the other side of the room. He walked over and peered behind the bar he had thrown Tom at: he wasn’t there.
Big D took a deep breath and addressed the room. ‘You ain’t gonna makes me play hide n’ go seek with your dumb ass, are you boy? Shit, I thought you had balls as big as watermelons.’
Big D walked slowly around the whole perimeter of the club, checking anywhere big enough to conceal one scared mortal. He couldn’t find him. He walked back over to the SYNK and looked in. Everyone took a step back. The guitarist on stage started playing Sweet Home Alabama until Big D waved him to stop.
Big D walked out again and then it came to him. ‘Of course! Where else would someone who’s shitting himself go!’
Big D walked out into the lobby and into the toilets. He checked all the cubicles and found nothing. He did the same in the ladies’. When he stepped back out into the lobby again, he heard the sound of a Harley coming to life. He stared across the large lobby into the dancefloor and saw a single headlight come on. Tom revved the bike.
‘You can knock me down as many times as you want, sonny. I’ll still get up. ‘Cause I’m stronger, see? An’ I will always be.’
‘Maybe,’ Tom whispered to himself. ‘But I’m smarter.’ Tom dropped the bike into gear and raced towards the vampire. Big D opened his arms to brace himself for the impact. At the last second, Tom changed course and flew past Big D’s left shoulder leaving only a three-pronged hook in his wake.
The vampire saw it only a fraction of a second before it ripped into his neck and then jerked him backwards. Tom twisted down on the throttle and aimed for the doors.
The Harley smashed through into the dawn light dragging six feet of kicking and screaming flames behind it. The policemen all drew their guns and took cover behind their cars as Tom skidded to a stop in the middle of the car park. A few seconds later the shape stopped twitching, but continued to burn. They all let it.
Tom got off the bike. The assembled clubbers that he had already evacuated through the fire door in the VIP lounge (his entry point) applauded and cheered loudly. Police officers waited for him to give them the nod before they ran in and rescued the hostages in the SYNK.
One of the senior officers brought him his sword back and thanked him.
Tom had run from Chloe’s place, which was only a mile from the nightclub, but he didn’t fancy walking back after his night out. He ushered the policeman closer and said, ‘This Harley belonged to one of them. I
don’t suppose…’
The policeman looked back at the club and then turned and smiled. ‘I don’t think they’ll be needing it. Godspeed to you, son.’
Tom smiled and nodded his appreciation. He unhooked the tow-line from the back of the Harley, brought it to life and raced out of the car park.
the last day
Kaaliz got into the elevator and descended towards Project Redbook only minutes before dawn. His anger still raged that the humans had attacked him. The thought of their hands touching him made him sick. He had tried to take out his frustrations on a couple of early-morning joggers on the way home. He had fed from them and then ripped them limb from limb, but instead of sating his anger, killing them had just energized him even more. He felt like a human might if they had just downed several dozen caffeine drinks in a matter of seconds. He was buzzed. Full of energy and ready to fight. And now he had to spend the next few hours by himself without even a woman to…
Ping!
The doors opened and the Che’al charged at him. He’d forgotten that he’d set one of them free. He dived into the air, avoiding its grasp by millimetres. He waited on the ceiling as the Che’al mindlessly jumped up trying to catch him. He’d seen this act before and he didn’t fancy spending all day watching this thing do some half-assed Riverdance below him.
He felt so powerful, so invincible.
He flew at her at full speed and began landing punches faster than even he believed he was capable. The Che’al could do nothing but put up its arms and try to fend off the attack, but Kaaliz was too quick. He must have easily landed hundreds of punches in just a few minutes. It was only when his hands started to hurt from pounding the coarse skin of the Che’al that he slowed down. The Che’al grabbed him around the throat and tried to unscrew his head. There was no tactic in the creature’s assault; it was just pure, blind animal rage. Kaaliz was food and the only way the Che’al was going to be able to eat him was if he stopped moving. Its arms swung at him, knocking him off-balance. Kaaliz twisted himself from its grip and kicked it hard under the chin. It dropped onto its back and Kaaliz grabbed its cowboy boots.
