The Blood of the Infected (Book 3): Twice Bitten, Twice Die

by Antony J. Stanton

  Farzin halted his followers when a safe distance from RAF Headley Court with a quick flick of his slender hand. They stood behind him, a little breathless from the exertion and exhilaration of their slaughter on the base. Three humans killed and another abducted, a fruitful evening. They exchanged glances while he stood still, looking away from them into the night. Suddenly he reached his hands upwards towards the sky in exaltation and threw back his head with a demonic howl of delight. As he turned they could see his eyes were wide and staring, darting back and forth as though possessed, so energised was he after the bloodshed. His body trembled, his heart pounded and his thoughts were racing, tumbling like acrobats in the excitement of the moment. His chin was stained and speckled with blood although he was clearly oblivious to these minor details. He seemed unaware of his comrades for a moment, then his focus shifted onto them and he calmed a little.

  “And those pitiful humans call horse-riding the sport of kings?” he mocked, his voice cold and disdainful. There was an erratic tremble to it that made him sound unhinged. “How long has it been since we have tasted human?” He did not wait for an answer and he seemed to have forgotten that Flavia, at least, had enjoyed the blood of Corporal Bannister only very recently. He continued with a smile. “Too long; but it was good, always so good. And now we have our prize.” He indicated the lifeless body of Vida that Simeon carried effortlessly over one shoulder. “Now we shall drink whenever we please.”

  Alec nodded with a sly smirk. Flavia stood carefully on the fringe of the group. She noticed a tear in the thigh of Farzin’s trousers and a slight stain of blood.

  “My love, you have been shot. We should find you sustenance, you will need some energy.”

  For several seconds he all but ignored her, making her shift nervously in front of him. His behaviour of late had been increasingly inconsistent. Slowly he looked down at his leg as though becoming aware of it for the very first time and his expression changed. He did not seem concerned by the injury which had hardly impeded him, nor by the blood that had slowly trickled down. The shot had only skimmed his leg and the rapid healing trait of the vampires had already begun to take effect. The bleeding had stopped and a scab was already starting to slowly knit itself. A drink of Vida’s blood would surely help matters. However, he was now angered.

  “Yes, indeed I have been. And why did that happen, I ask?”

  None of them knew what he was implying and now both Alec and Luca became anxious also. Ricardo, standing next to Simeon, looked cautiously around the expressions of the other vampires, trying to read the situation. Farzin may not have been the biggest or the strongest of them, but he exuded an air of malice and menace, and his volatility made him dangerous. Only Simeon remained unmoved.

  “Well,” Flavia started slowly, “I assume the first man who charged in must have hit you when he fired.”

  “Clearly. Clearly he was expecting us. He called out ‘vampires,’ so clearly he knew who we were. They were forewarned and prepared. So much for our element of surprise. Has someone been telling these pitiful humans a bit too much information? Has someone been getting a little too close to their human pet?”

  He stepped forwards towards Flavia with his eyes narrowing. He could be unpredictable at the best of times. Having feasted just now and with his bloodlust raised, but also having his pride injured, he was scaring her. As he advanced Alec took a step backwards, distancing himself from the vampiress.

  “I, I don’t know my love. I hardly told him anything about us. Obviously he knows we are vampires but I doubt very much that he would have told his colleagues.”

  Farzin slowly raised his hand. Each bony finger looked like the prong of a pitchfork, misleadingly delicate and unashamedly malicious. The sinews stood out and the blood on his long claws looked like tar in the pale light. “Exactly how sure are you, my love?” There was almost a sneer on the last two words as he brought his head close in to hers. His breath was on her lips as he spoke. His watery blue eyes fixed resolutely on hers.

  “I am certain of it,” she faltered. “He would not have wanted to admit to the others that he had come to see me.”

  There was a pause as the wind suddenly picked up and a cloud passed in front of the moon.

  “Perhaps it was Sebastian who said something,” Ricardo said quietly from his position beside Simeon.

  Flavia tried to hold Farzin’s stare but lowered her eyes as his face drew nearer. For a moment he said nothing but then his demeanour changed again. He smiled and the intimidation in his hand changed to affection. He gently stroked her cheek with one long, cruel finger.

  “Of course, that must be it. Sebastian gave away our little game to the pathetic little humans. And he missed out on a feast tonight. I wonder where he is now.”

  When Sebastian approached the church he stood for several minutes in the graveyard against a tree, merging with its cold bark and just quietly observing. Everything seemed still, incredibly still, but there was something unnatural about the hush tonight, something that he just could not pinpoint. He searched the darkness keenly, checking that he was not being watched. After standing motionless for a period like one of the church gargoyles he was still not totally satisfied, but as there was no sign of anyone he proceeded with all his senses alert. There was dew forming on the grass around the gravestones which left a subtle trace of his passing. Although he trod carefully, as he crossed the gravel there was the lightest of crunching noises under his feet. He cursed these tell-tale signs and held his breath, listening for indications of anybody else. There were none.

  A moment later and he entered the church. No candles were lit so he stood bathed in shadows. He allowed himself to adjust to the lack of starlight within, compensating for the new surroundings and the way sound waves echoed off the walls, feeling the marginally higher temperature and the slight draft of air circulating in currents around the room, all key elements that he used so perfectly in detecting if there were any other creatures present.

  Silence. Still air. Nothing. There was no living entity in the church and yet he felt uneasy. Was he too tense? Was it just his demons plaguing him again? He moved forwards along the central aisle. His head turned left and right as much to aid his listening as to detect any movement. Again, nothing. Even in the darkness, when he was only half way through the church his keen eyes picked out a shadow to the side of the altar. He froze although he was not sure why. His muscles tensed. Instinctively he dreaded the next few seconds. It was with a great feeling of reluctance that he approached, walking slowly as though through treacle.

  Despite his need for stealth he could not contain the gasp and moan that escaped his lips. The back of his neck prickled and he took a small step away. The wasted and practically unrecognizable corpse of Max lay curled in a foetal position. The skin had shrunk tightly around the skeleton and split in places. It was flaky and chalky white and much of it seemed to have turned into powder. The limbs had wrapped around the torso and all the joints were hooked as though through some terrible affliction of arthritis. He was hairless and the eyes had withdrawn deep into the skull leaving two black, all-seeing sockets staring up at him in anger and accusation. They seemed to be asking, how could you abandon us in our hour of need? The head had lolled to the side and was at an angle to the body and Sebastian sank to his knees as he wept silent tears.

  He permitted himself just a moment and then forced himself to regain his composure. Quickly he searched for any other clues as to what may have occurred or indeed any sign of his Clan Leader. It did not take long to discover the two chalices. He examined them closely, sniffing the blood distrustfully. Although it had long since dried it still carried the faintest of odours, one that took him no time to place.

  Infection!

  He almost swooned with the sudden, heady comprehension of what must have occurred. The vision of it flooded his realization, filling his imagination with horrific images of betrayal. It was clear that there had been treachery and that obviously implied one p
erson.

  He looked around now, suddenly very conscious of his own predicament, straining to hear the slightest sound or detect the smallest of disturbance in the air, aware that he was very probably next on Farzin’s kill-list. He wondered where the remains of his old clan were and if he was in jeopardy at that very moment.

  In truth, there were actually others who were currently at the top of Farzin’s kill list.

  Farzin’s hand rested lightly on Flavia’s cheek a moment as he tilted her head up towards him so that she could not avoid his stare. He looked into her eyes and smiled. She emulated the expression as best she could, hoping that he was not as good at reading her as she was him.

  A screech erupted from a nearby building as a woman saw them, a middle aged lady wearing a tatty, white blouse and dark pencil skirt. Her hair was severely swept back and had been torn out in clumps exposing small bits of her scalp as pale spots in the starlight, and she had a limp that became more pronounced as she ran towards them.

  “She’s mine,” Farzin hissed, leaping to the fore and crouching, awaiting her arrival like a statue. When she was barely a yard away and stretching out her arms towards him he exploded into action and kicked out at her. He caught her in the stomach sending her flying onto her back. With a groan she got to her feet and came at him again. He repeated the same action as they all watched, spellbound by the pantomime. Again she was lifted off her feet and hurled backwards. A third and fourth time she repeated the process, getting slower and slower. On the fifth time she got wearily to her feet and now stood hunched over, unable to stand straight as internal bleeding and broken bones conspired against her. Warily she regarded her target with a baleful glare but this time did not attack. Instead she maintained her distance and snarled at him.

  “They learn!” Farzin exclaimed, turning to his new clan with a triumphant expression, like a scientist shouting ‘Eureka!’ With that he bounded towards her and dispatched her with a single blow across the throat.

  As the woman’s body crumpled to the ground he turned slowly to face them with a vitriolic look. “I believe there may be more sport to be had within.”

  He indicated the small building from which the woman had emerged. A sign hung above the entrance, ‘The Liane Lawson Girls’ Finishing School’. It had white-washed walls and blood-stained windows. “When tainted they tend to herd even more than before, so I believe we should find some of them inside. Come, let us go and indulge ourselves with a little light recreation,” and he turned towards the gaping doorway leading into darkness.

  Flavia watched him stride excitedly towards the building with a curious feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had observed him closely over the past couple of weeks, noticing him become increasingly unpredictable and irate. As human society had collapsed, his behaviour had changed subtly. Vengeance and wrath were now uppermost in his thoughts, always bubbling close to the surface. Alec followed on his heel and Luca slowly trailed behind. Ricardo turned to Simeon with a slight shrug before disappearing after them. Only Simeon remained in situ, still holding Vida across his shoulder. His fingers were like meat hooks, casually enclosing her waist in one immense fist. He made no move to follow and Flavia regarded him cautiously for a moment. His broad features were lowered to the ground. He seemed as strong and immovable as a statue hewn from solid rock and just as devoid of emotion. If Farzin was frightening for his instability, then Simeon was doubly so for his outright unstoppable might. He vacantly returned her look as a hideously deranged scream, and then a second, sounded from somewhere within the school.

  Sebastian knew that neither Darius nor Max had gone out much since the human state of emergency. They had had little contact with the infected, which could possibly explain why they might not have detected the taint to the blood. He could well imagine Farzin trying to hide the smug expression as he presented the chalice to Darius in a gesture of subjugation and the subsequent, horrendous attack upon Max when he realized his beloved leader had been felled. Sebastian could recall the look Farzin had given him as he had left the church that very evening, and what thoughts Farzin must have had at that moment. He cursed silently for having been absent at such a pivotal moment. Had he been there, could he have prevented the brutality? Guilt was now uppermost in his mind. Distracted as he was by the horror-show playing out in his mind, he did not sense the movement right behind him, did not feel the slight stirring in the air or the faintest of footfalls until it was too late.

  “Sebastian.”

  He span round in shock, the tragedy of the night predisposing him to action. He simultaneously leapt backwards, away from the noise and landed poised and ready for an onslaught. But none came, no attacking blows rained down on him. Only Flavia stood before him, standing quite erect and still, her chest heaving but a serene look in her eyes.

  “Sebastian.” She said the word again as if for the very first time, or as though it would be the last time, rolling it around in her mouth, hanging on to every syllable and gaining pleasure from it; or perhaps as though her life depended on it.

  “What happened here?” he demanded.

  Her serenity seemed to be shattered and her face furrowed. Although he did not entirely trust her he thought the reaction might possibly be genuine. Possibly.

  “Farzin.” It was all she needed to say.

  “Why didn’t you stop him?” he asked but he knew that it was a pointless question. How could she have stopped him? He was as capricious as a cat locked in a box – when released, who knows where he would jump?

  She just shrugged and looked over her shoulder.

  “Where are they?”

  “I came ahead, I wanted to get back here first, just in case…” she trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence. She was always the fastest of them all and perhaps that speed had saved him tonight. He now realized why her chest had been heaving. Normally so fast and so capable, she must have truly exerted herself. She had given him the option to escape. But how much would that cost her?

  “Where have you been?” He was suddenly very suspicious as his mind galloped ahead.

  “That doesn’t matter right now.”

  “Where?” he demanded again, although he had already guessed.

  “To the humans.”

  His shoulders slumped. Suddenly everything was changing and too fast, although had he not known that to be the case from the moment that human civilization imploded? He had been avoiding the truth, hiding from it, unwilling to open his eyes, little better than Darius and Max, but the truth had finally caught up with him. He placed a hand gently on her arm. It occurred to him that it was the first physical contact they had had since she defended him and hauled him to his feet at the petrol station nearly a week before. So much had happened since then; the two realities were barely reconcilable, like strangers on passing trains, catching a brief glimpse of one another, a fleeting moment shared, before disappearing forever into the dark.

  “You don’t have to stay here and wait for them,” he said quietly, his eyes fixing on hers, something that he should have said a long time before, something that he did not really know how to phrase now but knew he had to try. “You could come…” He wanted to add, ‘with me’, but the words died in his throat.

  She paused, for once letting her guard down, and he saw the real look of concern in her eyes and the real Flavia behind it. It had been a while, quite a while, but he still recognized her. She smiled, a thin and pained yet genuine smile, laced with real emotion and regret from countless years and wasted opportunities. “You should go,” she said softly.

  He sighed, holding her glance a moment longer before letting his hand fall from her arm. He knew she would stay. He accepted that she had made her mind up. But Sebastian was not as adept as Flavia was at reading other people. All he could see was the rejection. He could not fully see the inner turmoil within her, the indecision and the longing, and how close she was to acquiescence. She knew if she were not there waiting for Farzin’s return his suspicions would be confirm
ed and he would hunt them down, not resting until they were both dead. But if only Sebastian had pushed just a little harder, maybe it might have been different. Perhaps he would have reassured her that they could escape, go beyond Farzin’s reach, far away; as they should have done long before. He thought she had rejected him outright in favour of her partner and almost regretted laying himself open, but a time was fast approaching when she would have to make a more definitive choice. Although he did not know it, his opportunities were not yet spent.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  The word was left hanging in the air, mingling with the odour of the blood of the infected and the shame of the corpse near their feet. As he disappeared out into the guilty night beyond, her eyes followed him as she wished whole-heartedly to do herself.

  CHAPTER 2

  It was agreed on the base that to venture out immediately to try and rescue Vida would be suicidal. Not only was it now acknowledged that there were indeed these vampires to contend with, but also the pre-existing and not insignificant threat of the infected. Everyone was jumpy and in need of a night’s rest, not that there would be much chance of that after the slaughter of Lance Corporal Dean Millington, Privates Hanson and Howes, and the abduction of Vida. The best thing would be to venture forth at first light in the hope that vampires might be true to myth and legend and sleep during the day. Ultimately, all they had to go on was myth and legend after all, and what Collins could tell them.

  As Corporal Charlotte Collins settled down on a blanket on the hard dining room floor she wondered again about the mysterious visitations she had experienced when alone in the guardroom at night. She tried to remember the conversations in as much detail as possible in case there was anything else Sebastian had said that might aid their cause. In the depths of her mind she had darker forebodings however. Had Sebastian himself been involved in the attack on the three men? Had he been partly responsible for the abduction of Vida? She did not think so as that would surely go against everything he had told her and all that he seemed to be. But what if it had all been nothing more than an elaborate ruse to gain her confidence? She puzzled and fretted over this for a while and sleep evaded her as easily as a vampire in the night.