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

by Antony Stanton

  There seemed to be something brittle scattered on the floor, broken glass perhaps, which made it hard to walk quietly. Each step painfully broadcast their presence. They all searched around keenly, probing the shadows for movement. They tried to hold their breath to listen for the slightest noise but all was still. The only sound was the soft curse as Bannister bumped into Masters, so tightly were they huddled. Bannister looked questioningly at his colleague as though to ask why he had stopped so unexpectedly. Masters was distracted by something. Suddenly he gasped. He pointed and then, without warning, ran towards the altar.

  “Stop!” Lewis hissed and lunged after the man but it was too late. Masters paid no attention and evaded Lewis’s grasp. He ran towards some cloth bundled on the altar. It was Vida’s dress. It was torn and bloody. Masters reached it and just had time to sob a single word.

  “Vida!”

  Then all hell broke loose; quite literally.

  CHAPTER 4

  Wood scanned the outside of the presbytery for any signs of life as they approached. Nothing stirred. The windows were all vacant and a couple had been smashed. Several of the curtains on the upper floor were drawn, giving the residence the look of a derelict, abandoned house, ripe for repossession. The front garden had once been well tended and appreciated, but many of the flowers and shrubs had since been trampled or uprooted and various items of debris lay scattered across the small lawn leading up to the front door. There was no more obvious means of entry to the building than this and he held his breath as he tried the handle, being as quiet as possible.

  It did not open. As it was made of solid oak it would clearly make an awful noise if they broke it down. There was a small sash window to one side and without much hope Straddling gingerly tried to raise it. With a rattle and squeak it slid upwards, jamming on the old wooden frame a few times as he tried his best to be quiet.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  Wood just shrugged. He checked inside the room then climbed quickly through without saying a word. Despite the bag that he wore slung over his shoulders he did not make a sound. Collins exchanged a nervous glance with Scovell, then followed him. Straddling went last. With a baleful look behind he heaved himself up and squeezed into the building. They were in a small ante-room which was gloomy despite the magnolia walls and cream carpet. Collins found herself focusing on small details, as though, by taking the time to notice them, she might delay their having to proceed further into the house. Outside was the incongruous shriek of a distant car alarm. It was answered by the call of a bird and a sudden gust of wind rattled the window. In the room there was a desk with a computer on it and a few trinkets that looked as if they must have been enslaved for decades in some forgotten antique shop before being liberated. A greeting card still stood on the desk. A lamp had been knocked to the floor. A chair had been smashed and there was a blood stain diagonally across the wall.

  They were becoming hardened to these glimpses of destruction. Wood moved wordlessly to the door and gripped the handle. Cracking it open an inch he stopped and listened. No sounds came from the impassive house. He checked their faces; all wide-eyed and pale. He nodded, tried to force a smile and opened the door.

  Still nothing.

  Collins followed closely, stepping out into the hallway on the bare, varnished floorboards. She placed her feet deliberately, forcing them one after the other, as though having to teach herself to walk again. From outside the house she could hear birds tweeting and wind rustling the trees, all commonplace sounds. Like any normal day. Life was going on without a care whilst inside was tomblike. Each step was laboured. She expected every floorboard to creak, announcing their presence to unseen foes. Every moment she tensed, awaiting someone or something to spring out at them from behind a door or from around a corner.

  There was silence.

  She watched Wood making his way so calmly and coolly, clearly experienced in just this kind of situation. She wished she could be more like him, and not let him down. In truth he felt anything but.

  He could feel his pulse racing in his head and in his chest. He had done this before, many times, stalked through a building in search of, as yet, unseen foes. He knew how to keep calm. He knew how to remain in control of his fear. But this time was different. This time he did not feel in control. Events were, in fact, very much in control of him, unfolding at a pace that he was not dictating. He felt on edge. This time his fear was getting the better of him. He stopped and took a deep breath.

  The hallway was fairly large and had several doors opening off it. All of them were shut, making the building more ominous, as though it was hiding dark secrets from them. There was a large, sweeping staircase with a polished banister rail leading upwards to a landing, rather like a Juliette balcony. Given its proximity Collins expected that one of the doors to the left must open through to a side entrance to the church. There was an old fireplace in the hall with an intricately decorated tile hearth and a bucket full of brass implements to stoke and clean the fire. Various other trinkets and pieces of art hung on the walls.

  Wood gestured to Straddling and then tentatively tried the first door leading off the hall. Straddling turned and covered him whilst Collins and Scovell stood awkwardly, guns held in sweaty hands. The door opened to reveal a pleasant sitting room with an old, lavish sofa and an inglenook fireplace. There were several paintings in ornate picture frames hung around the room and the overall effect reminded Collins of her grandfather’s house with paper doilies and porcelain statuettes.

  The next door was slightly narrower and it looked like the kind of access that would lead down to a cellar. It was locked. They started towards the doors on the other side of the hallway when there was the slightest of sounds from somewhere in the house. The noise possibly came from upstairs and they all looked at the ceiling, as though they would find the answers written there, engraved in blood. It could have been something as innocuous as the presbytery shifting on its foundations or the structure creaking in the wind, but it sounded like it had man-made origins or, more portentously, vampire-made. They exchanged worried looks. Wood pointed upstairs. Straddling nodded solemnly. They moved as one towards the foot of the staircase.

  Wood took each stair one at a time. Try as he might he could not avoid the occasional squeaking floorboard. He walked as lightly as possible on the outside of each step as that was nearer the joists and less liable to creak. The others followed closely, copying his example. Straddling continually cast quick glances over his shoulder as they ascended. At the top of the stairs they paused, all panting heavily but trying to keep their breathing quiet. The doors on the landing were closed which did not help with the lighting. Slowly they started forwards. At the end of the landing it split into two branches leading left and right into bedrooms. They neared the fork and everything was quiet. Suddenly there was the sound of gunfire from somewhere nearby which brought them all up with a jolt. Wood looked over his shoulder at the three behind him, but something, possibly a slight movement of air or the abrupt look of terror on Collins’s face made him spin around and gasp.

  Lewis was just catching up with Masters as he reached out for Vida’s shredded dress. Lewis went to grab the soldier by the arm but a shadow dropped from above. It landed beside them with a whoosh and a thump. Lewis was startled. He whipped around and was confronted with a horrifying apparition. A man, or more accurately to say a creature, towered over the two of them with a face of terror. Pale skin was drawn tightly over his hooked features. His eyes were ablaze in the dark and his lips curled back revealing long, savage teeth. With a snarl Simeon swiped at both humans, striking each with the back of one enormous hand, sending them both hurtling through the air. Lewis collided forcefully with a pillar and collapsed to the floor painfully as Masters crashed into the wooden pews. Bannister instinctively moved forwards a couple of paces whilst raising and aiming his rifle at the elusive shadow but an unseen hand reached out. It snatched at his ankle from under the benches and he too stumbled and fell.
He hit his head on the hard floor and dropped his rifle. Pethard and Newman had not even begun to react, so suddenly had this onslaught started, when another shadow leapt out from the pulpit, looping through the air. They hardly saw it or had a chance to move before Luca arrived right on top of them. He struck both of them as he landed between them with stunning dexterity. Both men were knocked to the floor with no time to defend themselves or even cry out.

  Bannister kicked out frantically but there was nothing there and he could see no adversary in the darkness. He tried to scrabble to his feet but already a silhouette materialized in front of him. Even as he got to his knees Ricardo hauled him up and tossed him aside, sending him barrelling back into the benches.

  Simeon had leapt instantly after Lewis, giving Masters a moment to get to his feet. Somehow in the attack he had held onto his rifle and he just had time to turn and fire. The huge creature moved so quickly in the dim light that it was hard to aim accurately, but Masters squeezed his trigger in the general direction of the figure anyway. There was a screech of rage or pain, and the figure leapt away from Lewis. He jumped onto a window ledge, then vaulted up into the rafters and the safety of the dark above. Masters’s rifle sprayed upwards on automatic, tracing the vampire’s route but without any indication of whether the rounds found their mark or not, puncturing the column and spraying plaster down. As Masters looked up, trying to locate the vampire, he did not notice the shape behind him. Ricardo struck out at his back and he too was knocked to the ground, this time dropping his rifle.

  Corporal Pethard had slammed into the entrance door of the church and landed on his knees. He was stunned for a moment and even with the adrenalin flowing, a sharp pain in his ribs suggested a broken bone. While Luca lunged now at Corporal Newman he recovered and swung his rifle. This was no longer training and discipline; this was pure survival. He clicked off the safety catch. The sound immediately attracted Luca’s attention. He swiped at Newman, sending him tumbling and turned quickly to face Pethard. He could see Pethard’s iris flare as his eyes half closed, his pulse quicken, the muscles of his hand contract and his finger tighten. He saw the gun rear up a fraction and he simultaneously leapt with a snarl. Pethard fired twice. From that range he felt certain that he had hit his mark, but the vampire bounded forwards and to the side and seemed unhurt. He fired once more but again the vampire seemed to predict when and where he was going to shoot and jumped diagonally, like an evil ballerina. The second leap brought him within a couple of metres and Pethard did not get another opportunity. Luca lashed out with a boot, sending him sailing backwards hard into the church wall. He was winded badly and left gasping for breath on the floor as the pain in his ribs exploded.

  Lewis hauled himself to his feet and quickly took stock. A dark silhouette was engulfing Masters so he fumbled for his pistol, wasting a valuable second as he released it from the holster. He barely aimed, just squeezed off a round and the creature shrieked and leapt away into shadow. Another of the devils was about to set upon Newman who was slumped back against a pillar. Lewis whipped around and started firing but the pistol was knocked contemptuously from his grasp. Simeon hoisted him off his feet and cast him through the air once more. He was winded as he landed on his chest to the side of the church. From his prone position he could just make out Bannister on his feet, full of righteous anger. He was screaming and holding his pistol in front of him and firing as he advanced towards the largest of the vampires, the one that now loomed over Lewis himself. Simeon roared in rage but did not stand his ground. Instead he ducked behind a pillar and vanished from view once more.

  Lewis got to his knees. There was pain all over his body. The church was a scene of chaos. Their group cohesion and order had vanished, replaced by the individual desire to live. Masters was limping towards him. He could not see Pethard. Corporal Newman was still lying back against the pillar but the vampire had vanished momentarily and Bannister was in the middle of the church, brandishing his pistol, looking wildly around. Lewis struggled to his feet and dragged Masters towards Bannister, half leading him and half supporting him. For a moment the three stood back to back as an unsettling silence descended like ash. Lewis was desperately trying to think of options. There were too many of the vampires. They were too fast and too strong. Perhaps if there had just been one they might have stood a chance, but against three it was impossible. Newman seemed to be unconscious, and now the soldiers were all losing their weapons. It felt to Lewis as though the only reason they were still alive at all was because of their initially superior numbers and their weaponry. But neither of those reasons was true anymore. As they stood gasping for breath he could see quite clearly that they just did not stand a chance.

  The reprieve was short-lived.

  There was a hideous scream, and as one they attacked. Two fell from the rafters and one came at them from the side. Bannister had no time to fire as he was knocked hard across the cheek and sent reeling. Lewis was grabbed from behind and hurled across some pews but somehow managed to remain upright. He was able to witness Pethard strain to get to his feet and fire his pistol. One of the vampires turned and leapt at him with murderous intent. This was surely it. The death blow at last. Lewis was helpless to intervene. They had not even lasted a minute against the onslaught, and now the killing, proper, was about to start. Talons and claws were bared but the vampire seemed to pause in mid-air. It was as though he had had a change of intention. Instead he landed defensively facing the direction of the side door to the church as it was suddenly smashed open with immense force. What happened next altered everything. For everyone.

  A shaft of light penetrated the gloom. For a moment it felt as though the action in the church froze. All of them, human and vampire alike, turned to face the interruption. Something passed in front of the open doorway and there was a deep, malevolent moaning sound from without that sounded to Lewis like a herd of cattle lowing at feeding time. Then suddenly a shape burst through the door and it was more terrifying and hideous than even the vampires.

  The creature was almost as tall as the tallest of the vampires, although perhaps not quite as bulky. Its face was warped into a hideous grimace with bulging, straining eyes. Its lips looked way too small to ever close over the intimidating incisors and a string of saliva hung from its open maw. Its hands and limbs seemed to be contorted as though it was suffering from intense arthritis and its spine was crooked and hunched. What was most frightening about it though was the screech that it emitted. It started out like the inane chuckle of a madman and then developed into a shrill wailing of an injured animal. It made Lewis weak just hearing that sound. The vampires were immobilised as well, as though in fear or uncertainty, and it was this that seemed the most ominous indication of the peril that each and every one of them now faced.

  The hunched creature sprang forwards with remarkable dexterity, despite its hooked appearance. The three vampires immediately detached themselves from the humans whom they now all but ignored. In unison they turned to face this new threat. Simeon took a step and approached the twisted, barely recognisable form of Darius. There was no panic in his eyes, just a look of gleeful anticipation, as though he relished this new challenge. Luca for a moment hovered by the main door to the church, blocking the humans’ exit. Lewis looked about in desperation. The only short-term safety he could see was that of the side chapel.

  Beyond, there were more sinister sounds and shadows. Swiftly through the door poured a steady stream of infected: old, familiar and just as fearful as ever. They trailed the first creature and their screeching and shrieking filled the building with an unholy chorus. Simeon stood his ground as Darius approached and they clashed half way through the church. Darius leapt at him with incredible speed, his distorted limbs belied his agility. Simeon had not expected such a swift attack and barely managed to react in time. He dropped back onto one knee and grasped the diseased vampire, sending him sailing overhead and straight into a pillar, but it did nothing to stop Darius’s attack. Immediately he tur
ned and kicked off the pillar, flying back at Simeon with claws extended. He moved fast and Simeon was not quick enough this time. As Darius swiped, he caught the vampire across the cheek, gouging three deep, red channels in his face, sending him stumbling away. There was no cognisance in Darius’s eyes, just insanity and anger and vengeance.

  Lewis had managed to pull Corporal Newman to his feet and shoved him hard in the direction of the side chapel.

  “Run!” he screamed as he looked for Bannister. He found him out cold on the floor under a bench and stooped to haul him up onto his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he could see infected still entering the church. Half carrying Bannister, half dragging him, he could sense them closing in although he just did not have the time to turn and evaluate the situation. Labouring under his semi-conscious burden, he started towards the chapel but felt someone grasp his sleeve. He was already unbalanced with the weight he carried and nearly fell. Neither hand was free and he could do nothing to defend himself but at that moment there was a flash and a loud bang. From just beside him Pethard fired at the man, catching him in the head and freeing Lewis.

  “Go, I’ll cover you,” Pethard shouted as Lewis weaved towards the vague protection of the chapel. Pethard fired several more times as he backed up himself, then turned and ran.

  Lewis charged into the chapel, virtually collapsing as he dumped Bannister’s body on the floor. Amazingly they had all made it, somehow. The closest of the infected were frenetically scrambling over smashed and scattered furniture to try and get at the soldiers. Pethard was the last to enter and Masters and Newman were both giving him covering fire with their pistols. Pethard grabbed the gate and yanked at it as he entered, swinging it round as fast as he could. One of the infected had reached him and now lunged. He kicked at it and Corporal Newman shot it in the face. It blocked the gate as it landed and Newman desperately dragged it aside as Pethard again slammed it shut.