After Darkness Falls 2 - 10 Tales of Terror - Volume Two

by Matt Drabble

  “Oh yes, ALISON, ALISON,” Dennison called mockingly. “She can’t help you,” he laughed. “Alison’s tank is empty; she’s been turned but she hasn’t fed yet, and she’s as weak as a newborn babe. She has no strength to stand or fight. Without sustenance she can only watch helplessly.”

  Tommy locked eyes with his love and he saw the light dance weakly in her eyes one last time. He saw the girl that he had fallen in love with and the fierce woman that she had become. He saw that despite the gaping chasm that had opened up in the ground between them, she had still loved him and he knew that he still loved her. Her relentless ambition and drive may have made them no longer what they once were but there was still enough love left between them. He saw his best friend and his best friend saw him. Tommy reached up and tore open his bloody shirt.

  “Hey babe,” he called weakly, “you hungry?”

  “Noooooooo!” Dennison cried out in disbelief suddenly realizing what Tommy had in mind.

  Tommy watched as Alison dredged the depths of her own resolve. She defied all logic and reason. Impossibly, she found the strength to stand and leap. Alison flew through the air, past the grasping Dennison on the stairs and landed on top of him. Tommy cried out as Alison’s jaws bit down hard on his open wounds and drank greedily.

  “STOP!” Dennison roared as he charged.

  Tommy felt a powerful kick as both he and Alison were suddenly airborne. Dennison booted their entwined bodies hard and they flew down the staircase. Their bodies were locked together as Alison drank, her weak grip strengthening by the second as they fell. They crashed down hard through the wooden banister rails, shattering them. Tommy landed heavily beneath his girl on the hardwood floor, his body fragile and failing.

  Alison was on her feet in a flash. She looked down with an animal’s wild compassion as Tommy looked up.

  As Dennison charged towards them, Tommy saw a look of love through her savage gaze and then in a blur she turned back to her approaching boss.

  The two vampires clashed in mid air and Tommy could only see blurs of movement. He could only watch from his prone position as the two animals rolled around like rabid dogs. Dennison may have felt like a God but now he was faced with Alison on equal terms.

  The fight was a brutal haze; Tommy could hardly keep his attention focused on the swirling mass of tangled limbs. The animals crashed through the exquisite furniture around the open atrium. Super-strength leg muscles gave the impression of flight as they leapt into the air spinning and clawing. Primal snarls echoed off the walls. As the two monsters fought, Tommy could hear the ripping and tearing as fangs clashed and jaws snapped. The two vampires had deep talon grips on each other, sharp claws that gouged bloodless wounds on each other’s chests.

  There was no skill within this dance; there were no rules and no compassion. Dennison suddenly leapt into the air taking Alison with him, smashing into the high ceiling above and sending down a plaster shower. They twisted and rolled, taking it in turns to smash each other’s frames into the stone walls. Tommy watched in fascination as Dennison’s head suddenly hung and bounced at an obscene angle, his neck broken and his cranium swung loosely. Alison lifted Dennison high above her head with a manic glee. She brought her boss down hard over her knee, and the sound of Dennison’s spine shattering was almost more than Tommy could stand.

  “No, you can’t,” Dennison mumbled. “You can’t, I won’t let you.”

  Tommy saw the desperation on Dennison’s face, his arrogance painting pictures of shock. Alison was a force of nature; she was unable to be boxed and contained, and any plans that relied on her to take a certain path were always bound to fail.

  Tommy eased himself up to his knees; the splintered remains of the banister lay all around him. A jagged stump of wood poked through his thigh where it had pierced him as he’d landed. He screamed as he tried unsuccessfully to lift his leg off the spike. The blood was pumping heavily now and he knew that he had severed an artery. He felt warm and sleepy as his life drained away and pooled on the floor around him. Somewhere off in the distance he heard laughter: crazy, maniacal laughter. This was his girl as never before. The enveloping darkness overtook him and he sank gratefully down into the black embrace.

  A harsh slap woke him from a comfortable drift.

  “Tommy, TOMMY!”

  Another slap, then another, the unwelcome attention was disturbing his rest; he was drifting on warm water beneath a hot sun.

  “Wake up, damn you.”

  From a distance, he felt coarse fingers forcing open his mouth and suddenly it was filled with a coppery liquid that made him gag. He coughed and spluttered and suddenly he was awake and sitting as another hard slap hit him, “Whoa,” he cried, “I’m awake, I’m awake.”

  “I know,” Alison answered with a smile. “That one was for scaring me,” she laughed. “Let’s get you up.”

  Tommy felt himself hoisted back to his unsteady feet. “Shit,” he said, remembering and looking around frantically, “Dennison, where is he?”

  “Oh, he’s over there.” Alison pointed to the top of the staircase. “And over there and there and there,” she laughed, pointing all around the atrium. “Wouldn’t want to be his maid.”

  Tommy looked at Alison. Her face was ripped with a five finger claw mark, and great bloodless gouges were torn into her chest. Large angry bite marks lined her arms and loose flaps of skin hung from her forehead. She had borne the brunt of a terrible mauling. She was a picture of a car crash victim, and yet she was the victor. Her face was still the woman that he had loved, but now her skin was tight and her features hungry. She now had the kind of predatory air that Dennison had carried and Tommy wondered just how far this ultimate power would corrupt.

  “How are you feeling?” Tommy asked.

  “Fantastic,” Alison enthused. “Check it out,” she held up her arms to show that the wounds were already closing. “How about you?”

  Tommy stood for a moment and considered the question. How exactly did he feel? “Actually, I feel great,” he finally concluded.

  “It’s a kick isn’t it?” Alison chuckled. “Do you realise just what we’re going to be able to do with this sort of power?” She paced furiously, “We’re a two man army.”

  “What did you do, Alison?” Tommy suddenly demanded as his heart sank, knowing the worst without the answer.

  “Saved your ass, my love. Damn close thing it was too - you were almost gone.”

  “You…, you turned me?”

  “Hell yeah, you didn’t think that I was going to do this alone did you?” Alison’s eyes danced and swirled like never before. “Forget one shitty company Tommy, we’re taking over the world.”

  Tommy watched intently as Alison danced with uncontrollable delight. He could see the cogs and wheels turn as his girl reveled in her newfound godlike status. Tommy thought of everything that a human-based Alison had wanted and achieved, and he shuddered at the thought of her as having limitless capabilities.

  He stooped carefully whilst Alison was distracted with worldly conquers and he pulled the forgotten broken banister spindle up and through his thigh. The tip of the makeshift stake still dripped with his blood and the sight was both enticing and hypnotic.

  Alison turned to him with wild excitement and started to speak with a child’s glee, but she never saw the weapon until it was too late.

  The sharp tipped spindle pierced Alison’s chest before she realised what was happening and it found her heart. Tommy clutched her tightly as she sagged, and they sank to their knees together. Tommy held her as the light faded and slowly died in her eyes. Alison gasped and shuddered with disbelief as she fell away.

  “I’m sorry,” Tommy wept.

  He stood slowly and lowered his girl gently to the floor, leaving her to her grave as the monument around them burned. The flames from the lower level were now eating through the basement door and the house filled with choking smoke. Tommy carefully walked back towards the library to check that the flammable libra
ry was being greedily consumed. The fire danced eagerly, devouring everything in its path as it leapt around the room, ready to rush beyond the shallow four walls and into the house, finishing the job.

  Once satisfied that nothing would stand behind, Tommy headed out of the back door and into the grounds beyond. The night air was cold outside, but he felt a shudder run through his bones for all of the wrong reasons. His heart felt still in his chest and he thought of Alison, hoping that her name would make it beat one last time. He thought of a life that had ended a long time ago and a love that whilst it may have faded, there had still been enough left in the tank at the end.

  He sat down heavily upon the wet grass and looked up to the dark starlit sky. The heavens twinkled with the promise of immortal life but he waited for the sun to rise hoping that Alison would be waiting for him and that one last legend about vampires would be true.

  TALE 3.

  “COMMISSION”

  Dexter Black pulled the car over to the side of the road and switched the engine off with a vicious twist. A day that had started with so much promise and hope had rapidly descended into the usual pit of despair. His landlord had just rung to tell him that his stuff was now in the street. Marie had called to tell him not to bother calling back as she had found someone else with deeper pockets and Maurice from the office had called to ask if he had seen the brand new Lacy file.

  His figures for the quarter were for shit and he was slowly drowning under the weight of debt smothered with an extra layer of looser stink. His father had been a waste of space his whole life - a man with empty pockets and a head full of dreams that he could never afford. Dexter had grown up swearing to become a different animal, but no matter how hard he tried he was always his father’s son and the rotten apple had fallen far closer to the tree than he had prayed for.

  His latest attempt at making some serious money had been legitimate. The country had been full of mis-sold “Payment Protection Insurance” policies; there were hundreds of thousands of people with credit cards and mortgages etc that had been targeted by lenders. When the penny had finally dropped, it turned out that a huge number of people were now owed money and once the sluice gates were open it was raining cash. A whole new industry set up almost overnight. The banks had set aside billions to pay claims and a large number of people were either unaware or couldn’t be bothered to make a claim.

  Dexter had been enticed by the advert from Mutual Benefits for what essentially amounted to wanting salesmen to contact folks who were entitled to money, and sign then them up with the promise that the company would do all the work for them for a modest commission - at least in theory. The sorts of people who either didn’t understand the process or just didn’t have the time to make their own claims were unlikely to check Mutual Benefits’ small print. The company kept 60% of the bank’s payout and Dexter got 20% of that. Their clients had no idea just how much money they were entitled to and therefore they were happy when, as far as they were concerned, they got money for nothing.

  With all that money set aside and people’s inherent laziness, Dexter had eyes full of greedy dreams. But now the bottom was starting to fall out of the market far quicker than he had ever expected it to. He’d made decent money to begin with but it had passed through his hands like water and never made into his bank account. He was lousy with managing cash and had never understood its fragile nature. Now he was scraping the barrel out in the sticks as the fading leads took him farther and farther out of town. Soon there wouldn’t be any sheep left to fleece and he would have nothing to show for his success other than a few decent memories.

  He checked the map on his lap and reassured himself that he was at the right address. The Lacy Farm was the last lead on his notes and he was in need of a miracle to pull him through this time. He was homeless, girlfriendless, his credit cards were now maxed out, and now his bank manager was starting to call to discuss his overdraft. It was always a concern when the faceless financial machine started to reach out human hands and a real face.

  According to his records, the Lacys had around 250 acres of farmland to play with. A farm of that size would hopefully have several very large loans for equipment and machinery as well as the mortgage itself. Their claim could be the largest that he or anyone else at Mutual Benefits had come across and he was determined to keep it for himself. He had stolen the new file right out of the office and out from under the nose of his superiors and competitors before they had seen it and he knew that he could no longer go back. If the Lacys had the sort of claim that he hoped, then the commission was going to be all his.

  He started the car again and plastered his biggest smile across his face. He had to practice and check his reflection several times in the mirror before his expression looked natural and non-creepy. He drove slowly through the main entrance to the farm and down the long bumpy lane to the main house.

  The weather was bitterly cold and the wind bit hard as he climbed out of the expensive hire car selected for just such an occasion. He had gritted his teeth and silently prayed as the young girl had swiped his last remaining credit card hoping that it would squeak through; mercifully it had.

  He strode purposefully up to the front door, radiating false confidence, and pulled the old fashioned bell. He heard the clanging echo out within the house and waited for approaching footsteps. He rang the bell a second time and then a third but to no avail. He was pondering what to do next when he heard a voice call out from around the side of the farmhouse.

  “What you want?” a man’s gruff voice bellowed.

  “Mr. Lacy?” Dexter sang back cheerfully.

  “Who’s asking?” came the suspicious reply.

  “Dexter Black, Mr. Lacy.”

  “Whatever you’re selling, you can just piss off,” the man said grumpily as he wandered over.

  Dexter looked the man over as he approached, evaluating him quickly. He looked older than God himself. His shoulders were stooped with a lifetime of hard graft that Dexter still hoped to avoid. His face was weather beaten with broken blood vessel cheeks and a swollen bulbous nose. He wore an old, tattered, grey woolen hat pulled down to eyebrow level with tufts of snowy white unkempt hair poking from underneath. He was wearing a dilapidated brown tweed jacket stretched over a pair of filthy looking blue jean dungarees with a white checked shirt under that. His hands were twisted and gnarled into stiff claws, presumably with arthritis. He was shorter than Dexter but squat and broad as befit an outdoorsman. He had the air of a serious man with no patience for salesmanship bullshit.

  “I won’t waste your time, Mr. Lacy,” Dexter said speaking brusquely. “I’m not here to take money from you; I’m here to make you some.”

  The old farmer eyed him up and down with naked suspicion but he didn’t interrupt.

  “I don’t know how much you follow the news, Mr. Lacy, but I’d imagine that a hard working man like yourself has little time to spare. My father was a farmer,” Dexter lied. During meetings with potential clients his father had been everything from a van driver to a biologist, depending on the person that he was talking to. “And he had little time for anything outside of the land; it’s a hard life and not one for the weak natured, is it Sir?”

  “No, no it’s not,” Lacy replied sternly. “Are you about to get to the point anytime soon, son?”

  “Just this, Mr. Lacy. If you have a mortgage on this place or loans for any of your machinery or equipment then there is a very high chance that you have been paying payment protection insurance that has been mis-sold. It’s as simple as that. There was a ruling which meant that the banks now have to pay back money to customers. It’s all perfectly legal and above board, I can assure you.”

  “And where exactly do you fit in?” Lacy asked pertinently.

  “I handle all of the claim for you,” Dexter smiled.

  “For a cut presumably?”

  “Yes Sir, but a modest one,” Dexter answered in his most reassuring tone. “Trust me, Sir, these banks have to legally
pay back what they’ve stolen from you, but believe me it’s in their interests to make the process as difficult as possible so that most people either give up or don’t bother trying in the first place.” He watched as the old farmer processed the information and most probably weighed him up into the bargain.

  “You’d better come in I suppose,” Lacy eventually said and Dexter’s heart skipped a couple of beats as he followed the farmer into the house trying to mentally calculate the possible commission and just how much wool he could pull over the old man’s eyes.

  ----------

  Two hours later, Dexter pushed himself back away from the desk and rubbed his tired eyes rigorously. The old man’s study was a small and cramped room stuffed full of paperwork dating back seemingly decades. There appeared to be no organizational system in operation here, only papers flung about without care or direction. But after a couple of hours rooting around for buried treasure, he had struck gold. Due to Lacy’s careless nature about this side of his business, Dexter had uncovered staggering overpayments on practically every bill. His mind was reeling with the possible refunds that he could be pocketing especially when the old man seemed to have little knowledge of what he’d been paying out in the first place. There were tens of thousands of claims here and if he only paid the farmer a tiny percentage, he figured that the old man would be happy.

  “Any joy?” Lacy asked from behind, startling him.

  “Not as much as I’d hoped to be honest, Mr. Lacy,” Dexter lied expertly. “But there are a few claims here I think. Should net you as much as a thousand I think.”