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

by Antony Stanton

  “So this moment has come at last,” Farzin snarled. “I have waited long for this.” The determination burned deeply in his eyes, years of resentment and anger exploding forth in an uncontrollable, hellish rage.

  Sebastian did not answer; he was not there to bandy words. He was there to kill. He did not pause but bent low and swiped upwards. He struck Farzin through the defence of his arms and caught him under his chin, which sent him crashing back through the doorway with a look of surprise. Sebastian was onto him again immediately, hitting him twice and shrieking a hideous, brutal scream of pugilistic righteousness. Wood hardly had time to scatter out of the way as the two vampires tore past in a whirl. Farzin tried to counter with a vicious talon but Sebastian was ready. He dodged low again and this time straightened and swung down, catching Farzin across the cheek, leaving an angry wound. Farzin was knocked back against the wooden balustrade. As Sebastian came at him again Farzin lashed out with a boot. It caught Sebastian in the shin and gave pause to his attack but when Farzin tried again to strike at him, he leapt forwards once more. He grappled Farzin around the waist, breaking through the bannister rail. The two entwined bodies tumbled from the landing and out of sight of the soldiers who had not even had time to react.

  Wood now scrambled down the landing and pulled Straddling to his feet. He shoved him into the bedroom where Collins lay dazed and Scovell lay dead. Collins was bleeding profusely from her forehead and had scratches down her face.

  Wood grabbed Scovell’s pistol and thrust it at Straddling. “Cover the door. Anything comes through it, shoot first. Ask questions later.”

  Straddling nodded and Wood started to look around for something to bandage Collins’s wound. From downstairs there were still the sounds of a fierce battle raging; hideous, inhuman shrieks and noises of breaking furniture and glass. Both men were distracted by the flicker of another shadow and they froze. They looked up to see an ethereal figure float by the doorway. Straddling’s finger hovered over his trigger but something stayed him. An enchanting female, tall and willowy with the grace of a ballet dancer, glided past. She glanced briefly in at the small, huddled party but seemed totally disinterested, like a lioness casually ignoring a jeep full of huddled tourists on safari.

  Flavia looked aghast from the balcony at the scene of destruction beneath her. Sebastian had Farzin by the back of his neck and smashed his head against the wall causing a spray of bricks and dust. He tried to repeat the action but Farzin wriggled free and struck Sebastian in the chest, winding him momentarily. Farzin swiped again and tried to leap away but Sebastian caught him by the leg and the two tumbled to the floor. Sebastian straddled him and held him down with one hand. With the other he struck at Farzin’s face. A purple scar was left as a reminder, adding to the first. It was at that moment that Farzin noticed Flavia staring down at them. He glanced up, imploring her for help, urgently pleading with his eyes for her assistance. With her aid there was no doubt in his mind that they could destroy Sebastian as they had Max. Yet she did not move.

  Flavia had observed the scene for several seconds, frozen in indecision. Should she go to the aid of her partner and mate of countless lifetimes, and the one who had turned her? Or should she help the vampire that she herself had created from human, defended from a mob and turned vampyric so many years before in a back street in Marseilles? The vampire who had remained an infuriating yet fascinating enigma to her ever since. Despite her loyalty towards Farzin, it was hard not to help the one and only that she had ever turned. One can never quite replace one’s first, after all. Some emotions lie too deeply to be ignored forever. As Farzin saw her hesitancy a moan escaped his lips; a moan partly of pleading and partly of wrath.

  Sebastian bared his fangs and leant close to rip Farzin’s throat apart. In a surge of desperation Farzin was just able to reach back and grasp the first solid thing his hand encountered, a brass poker from the hearth. Flavia saw the threat and gasped. He swung it viciously at Sebastian. It caught him with a solid thud on the head, knocking him from his perch. He kept the roll going, taking him out of range of the weapon, and finished the roll off by springing to his feet, slightly dazed. A bead of blood formed at his temple. Farzin swung the poker again and Sebastian dodged back and out of reach, just. Farzin now paused, a malicious smile creased his lips. He flinched to the left and then swung right, catching Sebastian on the same shoulder he had already injured. Sebastian crashed to the floor. Again he rolled and came to his feet, clutching a broken wooden spindle from the splintered bannister. As Farzin swung he deflected the blow, dropped the spindle and ducked close enough to strike out. He caught Farzin across the throat with his open hand, slicing his flesh and revealing a thin line of blood. Farzin staggered back holding his neck. The malice was replaced by shock and indignation. Sebastian closed in, preparing for the death-blow that he sensed was near. He had always known he could best Farzin, but there was no sense of glee or gloating. There was just an understanding that this had to be done. He did not know exactly how he would finish it, killing a vampire by himself would not be easy, but he was sure that he could. At that moment however the door behind Sebastian crashed open. They were both distracted as two infected barged noisily from the church into the hallway. With a cry of delight Farzin kicked at Sebastian, sending him stumbling back into the avaricious claws of the nearest.

  Sebastian could feel the hands grasping at his back and the hot breath on his shoulders. He did not have time to turn. Instead he reached over his head, grabbed the man and hauled him up, throwing him in front, slamming him with deadly force into the wall. He then turned and took hold of the second, wasting no time in swiftly snapping his neck.

  Not sure where Farzin now was he defensively leapt aside and turned mid-jump, but the fatal blow did not land. His adversary had taken the opportunity and fled. The hallway was empty. Sebastian stood panting for a moment, catching his breath. He looked up at the landing above but, again, she had gone.

  In the upstairs room where the soldiers huddled fearfully, the sounds of the fracas suddenly and ominously ceased. For several moments the soldiers waited. Their weapons pointed shakily at the gaping doorway, with nothing else to do but wait.

  Nobody came through the opening so Wood warily got to his feet. “Stay here.”

  He darted outside to see what had happened. There was damage and destruction evident and the corpses of two infected but no sign of vampires. He gave an immense sigh of relief and returned. Straddling looked at him with controlled fear in his eyes.

  “Nope, nothing,” said Wood. “They’re gone, for now.”

  Straddling collapsed back against the bed with a gasp and wiped his face. Collins moaned and started to come round. As she sat up Wood continued to look for something to bandage her with. There was a door leading from the bedroom that he assumed was an en suite. He opened it carefully with his pistol pointing. What he found inside was a complete surprise. Lying naked on the cold tiles of the small bathroom was Vida. Her body was pale and looked as though it had been ravaged by some terminal illness. She was battered and there was bruising and bite marks on her neck and shoulder. He rushed to her and checked her pulse. It was weak but at least it was there. He carried her to the bed where he wrapped her in a sheet. Straddling looked over and nodded. There was no expression of triumph or joy on the face of either man, just the resigned, weary expression of fear and the determination of survival.

  Just then the radio sounded.

  “Wood, if you can hear, we’re under attack from vampires and infected. We need help, now!”

  He took a deep breath. He was unsure as to exactly how much aid he could give. After all, they were in pretty bad shape and needed assistance themselves.

  “What’s your situation?” he answered resignedly.

  “Thank God you’re still alive. We’re in the side chapel, off the main church and dozens of diseased are trying to get in. The only thing stopping them at the moment is a gate but it’s not going to hold much longer. We could do wit
h some help pretty damn quick, else I don’t think we’ll last much longer.”

  The sound of desperation in Lewis’s voice was palpable. How could Wood refuse to at least try? He glanced briefly at Straddling.

  “Okay, hold tight, I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Wood, one more thing - there are vampires around. Be careful.”

  That much I know already, he thought ruefully. He turned to Straddling. “What I need you to do is get these girls to the Land Rovers. It’ll mean you have to carry Vida. Can you do that?”

  Blood ran freely down Straddling’s forehead from a wound beneath his hairline. A deep cut ran across his chin. His nose was bloody and he held his arm as though in pain. Despite his injuries, he nodded. “Aye laddie, don’t you worry about us. You just take care of y’self.”

  Despite their differences in the past, Wood could see that Straddling was a commendable soldier and quite capable of rising to the occasion. Cometh the hour, cometh the man. And this was, most definitely, the hour.

  “Good man.” He placed a hand on Straddling’s shoulder, gripping him firmly and they shared a fleeting smile, their first ever mutual expression of warmth. He turned to Collins now. “Can you walk?”

  She nodded with tight lips and a pained frown.

  Quickly he gathered all the available weapons that had not been broken. They had two rifles and four pistols remaining. Wood took a rifle and two of the pistols and left the rest to Collins and Straddling.

  As he stood to leave, Collins looked imploringly at him. “Please be careful. Don’t do anything dangerous.”

  He smiled. Like he had a choice…

  “I’ll be fine. You be careful too,” and with that he left them to make good their own escape.

  He ran to the stairs, skirting the body of the dead vampire. Its corpse had already withered and twisted. The effects of time that the vampyric condition held at bay had now gathered momentum and ravaged it mercilessly in death. Wood ran down the stairs, no longer bothering to avoid the creaking floorboards. Urgency now superseded stealth. As he swiftly crossed the hallway one of the doors was flung open. A woman with scabs covering most of her face and wearing a torn nightdress lurched through. He wasted no time. He fired once into her face. She was still falling to the ground as he pushed past her, heading quickly through the same door.

  He found himself in a small ante-room with a table, a sideboard, a couple of chairs and a pile of priest’s cassocks. Two doors faced him. He paused, unsure. One of the doors slowly opened with a groan and another man limped into view. With the assault rifle on fully automatic he squeezed off a short, deafening burst. All hint of finesse was long gone. The body jerked backwards through the door. He followed the man’s trajectory and found himself standing at the side entrance of the main church, looking into a perfect manifestation of hell. Total chaos reigned. There were screams and shrieks, blood, death and insanity everywhere. It reminded him fleetingly of a scene from his favourite film, ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’ where the inmates were all rioting. There was no way he could hope to enter that church and come out alive, regardless of how much the others needed his help. However, there was another option - the staircase beside him. He dashed up it and now looked out over the church from where the choir would sit on any given Sunday. Leaning on the balustrade and looking down he could observe the madness below. He could see the throng around the side chapel with his beleaguered comrades within. There was also another horde gathered around two other doors set into the opposite side of the church.

  “I can see you,” Wood said quietly into the radio. “I’m up in the choir.”

  “Thank God,” Lewis’s weary voice immediately answered. “Any thoughts?”

  There was no time to deliberate, no time for elaborate rescue plans. He had just one idea and it had to work.

  “Yes. It’s a long shot but the best I’ve got. We don’t have much time. I have a small surprise for them, a little something that should ease your path through them. Is there any material that you can gather up and throw over the railings? I don’t know, your coats, any rugs or tapestries, anything like that? Get whatever you can and let me know soon as you’re ready.”

  “Okay.” The radio went dead for a moment as the soldiers stripped off outer jackets and pulled material from the statues and off the small altar. Wood slung the bag that he carried onto the ground and checked the contents. He felt a burst of relief. He had wrapped them in sheets to protect them and despite having been knocked and battered, miraculously two of the four bottles inside were unbroken.

  “When I say, drape all the cloth over the railings. I have a couple more Molotov cocktails. I’ll chuck them at the railings which should cause a ruddy big fire and will hopefully scare them back, giving you space to move. It won’t burn for long though so the moment that it catches you’ll have to be set to go. I’ll shoot what I can from up here and you’ll just have to come out guns blazing like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. It’s not much of a plan but it’s the best I’ve got.”

  As Lewis turned to his small, frightened band of soldiers, Corporal Reggie Pethard stepped forwards. “Please sir, let me go out first. Maybe I can clear a path for the rest of you. It’s the least I can do.”

  “No way,” Lewis answered. “I’m your commanding officer. I go first.”

  “And you’ve been the best commander that a soldier could have asked for. But this is my time sir. Right now. I’ve got to do it. I think maybe that’s why I came. I’ve got nothing to lose and if I can help you all to live then it’s what Emma would want of me.”

  Lewis was already protesting when Corporal Bannister spoke, softly but quickly, a note of urgency in his voice. They did not have time for a lengthy discussion. “He’s right sir. I’m sorry but he’s been bitten. He’s as good as dead already.”

  Lewis paused, then reluctantly nodded. He did not like it but Bannister was quite correct. However, that did not make Pethard any less brave for volunteering.

  “Hold on,” Wood said, ending the discussion. “Something’s happening.”

  One of the opposite doors, around which the infected had gathered, suddenly burst open. A vampyric figure burst out like a cobra from its hole. The scream it loosed upon the crowd chilled Wood and even up in the choir made him recoil from the hand rail. The figure leapt above the heads that had surged forwards when the door opened but could not clear the obstruction of writhing bodies and fell short of safety. For a moment he was lost to sight.

  As Luca landed he stamped down. A figure crumpled beneath him. Immediately he lashed out, hitting two in front and then span around and struck at those behind. For a moment they withdrew slightly, so fearsome was his onslaught. There was no sign of Darius or the other vampires. He was alone now in the church with the mob to deal with by himself. And there were so many of them. So many hands straining for him. So many teeth snapping and biting him. Although the nearest may have been rendered incapable of further action, those behind pressed forwards, all eager to get at their prey. Luca bellowed defiantly, shrugging off the next attack and jumped once more but this time with hands catching in his clothes he still did not manage to clear the attackers.

  Wood was totally spellbound by the phenomenal display of resilience and determination to survive. The speed and strength that the vampire demonstrated was like nothing he had ever seen and he was captivated. Some of those who had been attempting to get at the soldiers were now distracted by the action and turned to Luca. Seeing the shift in emphasis of the crowd he tore his eyes away from the spectacle.

  “Listen, some of them have been diverted by a vampire in their midst. Now is the time. You guys have got to move.”

  Lewis looked at his troops and took a deep breath. “We’re ready.”

  Luca was fighting for his life, surrounded by the crowd. He twirled, slicing flesh open and shattering spines but there were just too many even for a vampire. He tried to launch himself over their heads again, but again his path was blocked. Slo
wly he found himself forced backwards until he was up against the pulpit. He dashed up the steps which afforded him a modicum of protection. From there the diseased could only come at him one at a time. He stood lashing out as they came after him, sending them one at a time tumbling back down. His clothes were blooded and torn and he caught his breath whilst he prepared to attempt another escape.

  The five soldiers tossed the material over the railings and then backed away. Wood quickly lit both bottles. He threw the first but it missed the railings. It smashed on the floor, soaking the ground right in front of the chapel but did not ignite. He cursed and threw the second. It hit the railings, shattering and drenching the material but this one also failed to explode.

  “Shit!” Wood was aghast.

  Without hesitation Bannister rushed forwards, within range of the clutching claws that still reached through the railings. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his lighter. Hands ripped and tore at his clothes and skin. He was at risk of being pulled close enough to be bitten but he ignored it as he tried to light the sodden material. Lewis leapt to his aid, followed by the others. As one they struck out at the hands, giving Bannister a moment to complete the task. As flames took hold of the cloth a fist grabbed Bannister’s leg but Lewis stamped down at it and yanked him away from the railings. The fire lit excruciatingly slowly and Lewis doubted it would take hold. Then suddenly, like the infection in the early days, it reached a critical mass. Flames built up and leapt momentarily towards the ceiling, igniting the spilt liquid on the floor. There were screams as the diseased started to burn. Even dumb animals are afraid of fire and that innate fear lived deep within these husks of humans. They backed away and an opening was created, a slender suggestion of escape.