Relict (Book 1): Drawing Blood

by Richard Finney

  Tyra didn’t think it was possible, but the reverb from the alarm was causing her more pain than the donor plugs siphoning blood from her body.

  She waited until the CCC guards moved past her stall before she began ripping off the machine’s pads from her skin.

  And through it all she kept a watchful eye on Murphy across the way in his stall.

  Bang… bang… bang… The goons were trying to gain entry to Matt’s stall, but he had used the donation machine’s plastic tubing to tie shut the door.

  When one of the guards finally kicked open the door to Matt’s stall, they saw it was empty. They looked up and saw Matt standing on top of the stall’s back wall. He had used the contents of his own donor tube to cover every inch of his skin with blood. As he stood there laughing at the goons, Matt looked like a devilish fiend.

  As the guards rushed into the stall toward him, Matt simply leaped over to the next stall wall. He then began running on the narrow beam that divided the different stalls.

  Tyra emerged from her pen and grabbed some quick glances up and down the strip that divided the north and south maze of stalls.

  There was about one-hundred-twenty-five feet of concrete between where she stood and where Murphy was cowering in his stall.

  Juarez and Barrett burst out of their stalls and moved to Tyra.

  “Remember, he has to be strangled, and then his body needs to go back to the barracks...”

  The two prisoners nodded in unison, then looked at each other.

  “Cover me…”

  “No, you cover me…”

  All three started to make their move, but two prisoners suddenly sprinted past them… followed by four goons waving their batons.

  She looked around her. The building had quickly descended into anarchy.

  The alarms continued to blare as Matt raced atop one of the main stall walls. There were two different places in the maze of stalls with wide gaps. Both areas had goons waiting for the opportunity to grab their quarry.

  But both times Matt leaped across, soaring above the goons swinging their batons in the air.

  He turned in the direction from which he had come to see if he could assess the progress of Tyra and the boys, but Matt couldn’t make out anything in the chaos.

  Tyra, Juarez, and Barrett were weaving their way through the wave of rioting prisoners and the swarm of goons chasing after them. Pockets of fighting turned their efforts to traverse the strip into a virtual crawl.

  Through it all, Tyra kept her eye glued to Murphy.

  Suddenly, Juarez was hammered across the head by a passing goon. He staggered, but managed to stay on his feet… until the goon followed with a blow to Juarez’s leg that dropped him to the ground. As the same goon was pulling back for a third swing, Barrett leaped into the air and tackled him.

  Tyra watched Barrett and the goon wrestle across the concrete strip while Juarez lay just a few feet away writhing in pain.

  But rather than stopping to help… she kept moving toward Murphy’s stall.

  A pair of athletic CCC goons were running parallel with Matt as he sprinted along another part of the stall maze.

  It was almost as if the three were competing in the Post-Apocalyptic Olympics.

  The guards both saw that Matt was heading toward a dead end and were hoping he wouldn’t realize it until it was too late.

  But then, just as Matt approached the east wall of the building, and there was no other place to run… he disappeared.

  The two CCC guards stood outside the stall getting their breath back before they began slamming their bodies against the door. On the third try they burst through… only to have Matt spray both of them with blood from a donor machine still hooked up to probably the only prisoner who had remained hooked up to the juicer throughout the chaos.

  Once they were drenched in blood, Matt punched and kicked the blinded guards until they both fell unconscious to the concrete. He then grabbed one of the riot batons and took off running.

  The sound of the blaring alarm, and the sight of the total chaos all around him, had chased Murphy to the back of his stall, where he cowered near the blood-donor machine.

  He held his breath as the door to his stall suddenly swung open, then immediately relaxed when he saw it was just a woman… Tyra.

  Murphy quickly stood up.

  “Jesus, what the hell is going on out there?”

  She closed the stall door behind her before answering.

  “It's Haynes. He was right in the middle of getting milked when he just went batshit.”

  Murphy started toward her. “What did I tell you about him?! Didn’t I say he was going to get us all killed?!!”

  “Murphy, you were so right. I should have listened to you…”

  She then stepped out of his way as he moved to look over the stall door.

  “You're damn right I was right...”

  Matt raced around a corner and skidded to a halt when a he saw an approaching guard. He turned to go back the way he came, but there were two more CCC goons. Changing courses again, Matt rushed toward the single guard coming at him. He ducked underneath the goon’s first swing, then planted a baton jab to the goon’s stomach that doubled him over.

  When the goon fell to his knees, Matt was able to see the exit to the dairy building was just a short distance away. He crowned the goon with the butt of his stick and took off running.

  Murphy was standing at the door of his stall when he heard some of the prisoners cheering.

  “Can you believe this shit? I think they’re actually cheering this lunatic on…”

  He started to turn around to see if Tyra was watching when one of the plastic tubes from his juicer looped over his head, dropped around his throat, then yanked him off his feet.

  The two both slammed hard to the concrete floor.

  The impact, and the confusion about what was happening, caused Murphy to delay in fighting back.

  But Tyra knew exactly where she was headed.

  She quickly dragged his squirming body across the concrete until she was able to plant her feet against the raised cement slab housing the blood-donation machine.

  Then she wiggled sideways, until her back was braced against the stall wall.

  This was the exact position Tyra held onto as she gained more and more strength, while Murphy slowly lost all of his.

  The stall door suddenly flew open.

  Barrett and a bloody Juarez rushed in to the stall.

  They saw Tyra and Murphy’s dead body coiled up next to each other.

  “Ty… Ty… it’s alright… you can stop pulling… he’s dead.”

  She released the plastic cord only when Barrett grabbed her hand.

  Only then did Tyra begin breathing again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Matt burst through the dairy-farm doors to the outside compound.

  The sunlight hit his face.

  He squinted, but kept on running.

  Most of the living things on the planet could take what came from the sun and change it to something that would help keep them alive.

  The vampires were different.

  All of them needed a middleman.

  And this middleman had broken loose and was now running through the CCC compound.

  He sprinted by several goons just standing in place, despite the blaring alarms, apparently with no idea what was going on.

  Matt’s sprint had nothing to do with a search for a hole in the fence or a place where he could hide until the searchlights were off of him.

  “Where did these people think they were escaping to?”

  Jay’s words reverberated in his head until he had the confidence to stop running.

  Planting himself in the middle of the compound, he began kicking his boot heels in the dirt, getting ready to make his stand.

  Come and get me, he said to himself. We’re both middlemen, so it’s only right you spill some blood along with mine.

  “Hey, mate, what’s your name?”
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  The goon who was serving as the spokesman for the rest of the guards encircling him had an Aussie accent. Hearing his dialect forced Matt to reevaluate his previous assessment about the nationalistic makeup of those working security at the camp. He had assumed that the recruitment of the camp’s security staff had been completely filled by locals.

  “My name is Matt Haynes and I want to speak to my father and my mother. After I talk to them, I’ll let you guys take me.”

  “What CCC facility are your parents stationed at?” asked the Aussie goon.

  “No facility. They’re dead. I figured you guys could convey my demands to the undead in charge and then get back to me.”

  “Come on, Haynes, you know it doesn’t work that way.”

  “Then maybe someone should come over here and explain to me the rules,” said Matt. He was moving slowly in a circle, waving his baton.

  There was applause, cheers, and shouts of encouragement from the prisoners who had gathered for the showdown.

  “That’s it, Haynes… show them who’s boss…”

  “Yeah, man, let ‘em all know we’re not going to just take this shit…”

  “Do this, Matt! We’re right behind you!”

  As Matt scanned the crowd of prisoners, he didn’t see Tyra, Juarez, or Barrett. Nor did he see Murphy. He wanted to believe his diversion had been a success.

  Now all there was to do was play it out.

  The Aussie raised his baton to his forehead as if he meant for the wood to soak up his sweat. Matt was sure the gesture was a sign that the assault was about to commence.

  The first goon advancing toward Matt ran right into a kick that sent him flying backwards, where he wound up landing several feet farther back than where he had first started.

  Matt’s baton blocked a strike from one of next two guards who rushed him next, then he used the heel of his hand to smash the other goon in his nose. He quickly ducked, just missing a counterpunch coming from the first attacker, and used his baton to swing up and introduce the goon’s balls to the wood of his stick.

  His peripheral vision caught sight of two more goons rushing toward him. He planted his feet, raised his stick, then tried to swing at the first goon, but Matt’s baton was stopped in midair by... Spector.

  The Security Supervisor smashed his fist into Matt’s face and wrenched the baton from his hand.

  Matt staggered, but somehow managed to stay on his feet.

  Spector motioned, and all the guards began widening their circle to give their boss more room.

  There were shouts all around him, prisoners encouraging him to keep on fighting.

  “Give it to him, Haynes!”

  “Make the big ape eat a banana!”

  But Matt was still groggy from the blow he received from Spector, and all the voices around him sounded muffled, their faces out of focus.

  Matt charged Spector, who simply absorbed the blow to his body since there was nothing behind it. He then brought his clasped hands together down on Matt’s back, sending him straight to the dirt.

  It took almost everything he had left, but Matt struggled from lying flat on the ground… to finally getting up on one knee.

  Dietz had just joined the crowd, standing just behind the circle of guards. He watched Matt start to stand, and the doctor said under his breath, “What are you doing? Stay down…”

  He rushed forward and threw a wild haymaker. Spector stepped to one side and delivered an elbow into Matt’s jaw, dropping the prisoner to the ground.

  This time, Matt was out for the count.

  Dr. Dietz broke through the circle of goons and tried to approach Matt, but Spector stopped him and motioned for his guards.

  “Take him to my office.”

  ***

  With Tyra trailing behind, Barrett and Juarez carried Murphy's dead body across the compound as if he was someone they were dragging out to the parking lot from a bar after a long night of heavy drinking.

  Because of the chaos Matt had caused, no one stopped them along the way.

  No one even looked in their direction as they shuffled Murphy through the barracks’ main door.

  “Okay, give him to me...”

  The three of them, along with Murphy’s limp body, were in the close confines of a supply closet that adjoined the shower area.

  “Shit, I can’t do it by myself,” said Juarez.

  “Who’s the pussy now?” asked Barrett, as he stood on top of a chair holding Murphy’s body underneath his armpits.

  Every detail of Murphy’s death kept replaying in Tyra’s head, but each time it played back, there seemed to be a new detail added to the final cut.

  “Hey, Ty, I need your help,” said Juarez.

  Tyra snapped out of her daze, and helped Juarez lift Murphy’s dead body up to Barrett. Earlier they had fashioned a noose from the metal electrical cabling dangling from an overhead light fixture. As Barrett guided Murphy’s head into the cable noose, he gave his partners careful directions.

  “Okay, this is the critical part… we need to be… extremely… careful or I will wind up dying with my arms wrapped around Murphy. Perfect… now just carefully ease him down…”

  Murphy’s weight activated the initial pin to set up the trap. From there, a series of bedsprings shifted, which then engaged a metal alligator clip, the jaws of the clasp releasing a metal rod covered in rubber bands. The whole contraption was hidden in the ductwork above the ceiling, and was connected to the electrical power feeding the room.

  Barrett carefully released the dangling body. He stepped off the chair, still holding his breath, as if he was stepping away from setting up a ten-story house of cards.

  “What do you think?” asked Barrett.

  Before anyone could answer, he held up his hand.

  “Wait, one final touch…”

  Barrett reached into the closet and turned the chair on its side.

  “Now what do you think?”

  “Yeah, that was perfect,” answered Juarez. “I totally see Murphy as a chair kicker. He’d change his mind at the last second and say, ‘uh… shit… now I can’t get my feet back onto…ahhhh…’.”

  “This totally reminds me of a joke,” said Barrett. “How many goons does it take to change a lightbulb?”

  “Hopefully, the punch line is at least ‘two’,” said Tyra.

  The sharpness of her answer snapped them both out of their jovial mood.

  “I’ve done this dozens of times,” said Barrett. “Of course, I never hotwired the payoff to go beyond a simple electrical shock to whoever tried to remove the dummy.”

  “So what you’re saying is that you’re not sure?”

  “Well, actually, I am sure. But we’ll still need some luck. If just one of the goons tries to take the body down himself, then we’ll have two dead bodies, not three.”

  She nodded and turned to walk away, but Barrett stopped her.

  “The trap should work, and get us two more dead bodies on top of Murphy’s. Believe me, Ty; I don’t want to help that asshole escape unless both you and Juarez are with him.”

  “For your information, Cliff, that ‘asshole’ did get the shit kicked out of him… all so we could take out Murphy.”

  “Good point. I stand corrected,” said Barrett. “But how much you want to bet the hotshot had a good time having the shit kicked out of him...?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  <incoming>messagevcnet>>

  Greetings Fellow Shadows,

  I write today with an enthusiasm that a region representative is rarely able to sincerely feel. It’s difficult to limit my emotions to just words, but I will make the effort.

  First, join me in celebrating the two latest donation centers which began pumping out their first pints of blood yesterday - CAC29 and CAC18!

  Both donation centers, located in the Rakshasis region, were not expected to be online until later this month, but both facilities sent out juice two weeks ahead of sch
edule.

  Help me give a round of applause for the tireless effort of Vivek Asharti, the commander of both CAC29 and CAC18!

  Just another reminder that we are all in this together. Those who you trust with your existence could be standing next to you… or a hemisphere away!

  Stay Hidden, Stay Silent, Stay Sui Generis!

  Very sincerely yours,

  Hamil Deane

  vc member - davanzati region

  ***

  The capacity for humanity to maintain the semblance of continuity through the direst of circumstances should never be underestimated.

  It was one of the points written by a US government official included in a Rangers’ handbook that Matt was given prior to being shipped out, with the rest of his unit, to Afghanistan.

  The words were in his head as he was being beaten by Spector in the basement area of the CCC officers’ security building.

  Whenever Spector would crouch before throwing a blow to his gut, Matt made it a point to stare at his oily, acne-filled scalp, on his pumpkin-size head.

  After a particularly brutal assault, Spector would stop, hold up his captive’s head, and look into his eyes to make sure he was still conscious.

  Matt made sure he was staring directly into Spector’s eyes as well, fixated on what should have been the white surrounding his pupils, but instead was decidedly yellow.

  The world had completely changed, virtually overnight. And yet under the direst of circumstances imaginable, Spector had somehow managed to feed and maintain his addiction to steroids.

  His internal laughter at this observation is what Matt used to distract himself from the pain being inflicted upon his body.

  “Still hanging in there, Haynes?”

  “Yeah, unless you think the band is really done with their set, and then I’d love to use the restroom.”

  His answer triggered Spector to knee him in the crotch.