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

by Antony Stanton

  He stayed like that for some time, he did not know how long. Everything was quiet. He could smell nothing for the blood that filled his nostrils. The first noise was a soft moan. It came from nearby and he realised it was Alžběta.

  “Please,” she whimpered with her eyes still tightly clenched, only barely conscious.

  He got wearily to his knees and crawled towards the sound. His legs were battered and bloody, one arm hung limply and he could only see through one eye. He needed to drink some blood, and soon. Yet his concerns were not for himself. He remembered back, a long time before, to what it had been like for him. He could recall the confusion, the fear and distress, the need for guidance and support and ultimately the need for companionship and, even now after so many years, the need for love. This was not an ideal way for them to start, but it was all he had. And now that she was free from the malignant influence of Farzin, he was all she had.

  He looked disdainfully at the withered corpse of his adversary. “Everyone can be bitten a second time,” he muttered. Time had taken its toll on the body; its dues had finally been paid. That was an invoice that they, as vampires, merely delayed; postponed but never entirely settled. The life that Farzin or any of the clan members had led, the Protocol they lived by, and the years they had spent, could never be fully appreciated by humans. Despite Sebastian’s normal start in humanic life, despite the fact that his turning had not been of his volition, since then he had lived a vampyric life so very different from anything that a human could ever truly comprehend. He realised that the two species could never really integrate. The differences were irrevocable and insurmountable. Theirs was not a shared future. His was to disappear once again into shadow and fable. To live on the edges of their existence. For now, however, he had given them a chance at life. He had provided them with their opportunity to go and make a difference. He felt he had finally made his amends.

  CHAPTER 22

  The soldiers remained huddled in the refuge of the cafeteria until long after the noises had ceased. Lewis had returned with his three comrades and the doors were hastily barricaded once more. Everything had fallen silent, until the screams began somewhere below. They were hideous and tortured, inhuman primeval sounds from ancient times that made them shudder. There were crashes and bangs and then all was still once more.

  “Do you think he won?” Matthews finally whispered.

  “Shhh,” Lewis scolded, but he had had the same thought. If their saviour had perished, then they were all still in mortal danger.

  They finally ventured out, mob-handed, to search for vampyric corpses. The area with all the individual workstations near the rat section had been completely decimated, but there were no vampire bodies. They could only assume that Sebastian had indeed triumphed. Lewis could not understand why he had removed the bodies. He thought that maybe he had taken them somewhere to burn them all, just to make absolutely sure they were indeed dead. Collins however secretly wondered if it had more to do with not wanting to leave any proof of their existence. The last smile Sebastian had given her as he stood in front of them all had been different. It had felt like goodbye; or, God be with you. She reasoned that when the soldiers came to retell their story to anyone in the future, assuming of course that they had a future, there would be no evidence that vampires really existed at all, other than the words of a small group of half-crazed military personnel who had gone through hell and lost all sense of reality. She kept her thoughts to herself. They were amazed to find the body of Stuart from the gun shop on the ground floor. There was something odd about his corpse but they put it down to the ravages of the infection. The ACDC emblem had now been entirely obscured by blood. Matthews searched for a long time for any sign of Alžběta. In a world now so devoid of love, it was easy to be seduced by the faintest hint of affection. His search was in vain.

  It had been the longest day and they all huddled together as night approached. They had lost many good men and now that the immediate danger seemed finally to have passed, the shock was starting to take effect. There were tears and confusion. Lewis found new wells of strength to provide comfort for his troops. While everyone sat quietly, he handed out cups of sugary tea that Vallage continually prepared. He barely even noticed the many aches that throbbed around his body, he just felt numb to everything. As he began to tire, Bannister emerged from somewhere with several bottles of whiskey in his arms. He dumped them all on a central table and grabbed one. He attracted everyone’s attention, unscrewed the cap and tossed it over his shoulder, staring around at them all defiantly.

  “We won’t be needing that again,” he said copying an old friend. He raised the bottle and meaningfully saluted each and every one of them, then poured out some generous measures into mugs that Vallage supplied from the kitchen.

  “Should old acquaintance be forgot…” Vallage muttered to himself as Bannister passed the drinks around.

  Lewis awoke the next day with the reek of smoke still present and a thumping in his head, to add to his other bodily complaints. He jerked awake and took some time to gather himself. They had all spent the night huddled close in the canteen and despite less than adequate sleeping arrangements, almost everybody had slept soundly. Bannister was perhaps largely to thank for that.

  “So what now boss?” Straddling asked as they sat around tables awaiting an indeterminate meal that Vallage was preparing. He had quickly taken charge of domestic arrangements at RAF GVF. Almost everyone was quiet and lifeless, even Bennett and Rhind were listless. Other than Lewis and Vallage, the only ones who were busy were the medics. They were attending to Private Rohith. His grasp on life was tenuous but clearly tenacious; he had not given up just yet and neither had they. Squadron Leader Singleton had brought all of their medical records from Headley Court and was now trying to organise a desperately needed blood transfusion.

  “I guess we do what we do best,” Lewis replied with a smile and a shrug. “We carry on. We recuperate. We restore basic survival procedures and we try again. What else can we do?”

  “You said you killed five or six?” a voice asked meekly from behind.

  “What?” Lewis was confused.

  It was Bennett. “You said you only killed five or six of the Incarcerated. So that might mean there are three or four still alive. Maybe the ones we tested the drug on. Like Ving.”

  It took Lewis a moment longer to appreciate what Bennett was saying, but as soon as he did he was on his feet.

  For some reason everyone wanted to go, nobody wanted to remain. Maybe they were all curious. Maybe they were all afraid that if some stayed behind they would be dead before the others returned. They had not even started eating breakfast yet, much to Sergeant Vallage’s annoyance.

  Lewis took the lead with a loaded rifle gripped in his hands. Ammunition was now scarce so they did not have enough for everyone. They went cautiously but with a feeling of anticipation that seemed out of place, given their previous twenty-four hours. When they arrived at the corridor of the Incarcerated the doors were closed. Lewis stared at them for a long moment before he nervously approached and nudged them ajar. His hopes were unjustifiably soaring. There was still a chance that their efforts had not been wasted. He tried to prepare for the worst but even so he was not ready for the disappointment. Inside there were three figures lying on the floor. One of them was Ving. They were indeed the three that had been used in their drug tests. Each of them had vomited profusely and blood had issued from various orifices. There were now no more Incarcerated left to experiment on and the drug had failed. His hopes plummeted.

  Breakfast was a silent meal. The prize of the antidote had been snatched away once again, their communal aspirations as dead as the men who had perished the day before. Their reasons for continuing their daily struggle for survival were dwindling. Failure, and depression, hit them all hard.

  “We still have the rats to experiment on,” Collins chirped up, trying to remain positive. “I’m sure Hutchison could go out and catch some more.”
r />   “That’s not really good enough,” Bennett replied solemnly. “Ultimately we need humans.”

  “Well, we still have some of those” Bannister pointed out, bringing a wince from both Rhind and Collins.

  “Yes, but without any drug to test on them,” Bennett said glumly. “The only one of the three compounds that worked on the rats killed the human subjects. We’ll have to start again but with no idea where to begin.”

  “I don’t get it,” Bannister said. “If that drug worked on the rats but it killed the humans, then why can’t we try the drugs that didn’t work on the rats? Maybe they will work on the humans instead.”

  “That’s not how it works,” Rhind said. “If they killed the rats then they are highly likely to kill the human tests as well. We need to try the drugs on rats first and if that works then proceed to humans.”

  “But why?” Bannister pressed. “What have we got to lose?”

  Rhind scowled. The thought of using his wife to test a drug that had previously killed the animals was most unpalatable.

  “That’s a bloody good point actually Bannister,” Singleton said, joining in the conversation. Something Wood had said to her came back to her now, as did a fresh surge of hope. “There is still a chance however small. They’re lost to us anyway unless we try. What have we got to lose?”

  “Well, you’ll jolly well have some breakfast first,” Vallage called out from the kitchens. “I’ve got a little something for all of you.” He went out with an armed escort to the Land Rover which they had parked outside the compound and returned some minutes later. He carried a chicken under one arm and a bag.

  “Which chicken is that?” Collins asked.

  “Jack,” he replied with a twinkle, “but I have a surprise for you all. A fox got into my little hen compound and killed the other three – such a senseless loss of life.” The parallel was lost on no one. “Jack was all I could save I’m afraid. A few days later I was preparing to ring his neck for a bit of a feast. I thought I may as well, before the fox gets him too. But lo and behold, he produced an egg. It’s amazing how the threat of death can inspire one’s desire to live. So I granted him - or rather, her - a stay of execution and Jack is now Jaqueline.” There were guffaws amongst the troops.

  Mathews turned to whisper to Bannister with a grin. "I was just getting used to the slop they've been serving up here. Now that Vallage is back I imagine things are just gonna get worse."

  Bannister laughed. "Right. It's been so long since anything even resembled food. I mean, what's chicken? I can hardly remember."

  “And,” Vallage continued, gearing himself up for his grand finale, “Jaqueline has not stopped laying ever since, so I have just about enough to make a small omelette for us all. A very small omelette, mind you.”

  Despite his gruff demeanour he actually had an uplifting spirit. Maybe it was his cynical view on life but he somehow managed to put a positive spin on everything, as his snow globe slowly started to return to calm normality. Collins was delighted to see him again, more than she would have once thought possible.

  Breakfast only delayed the debate for a while and everyone’s thoughts remained on the topic throughout. It did give Rhind and Bennett a chance to ruminate though. As dishes were cleared the conversation resumed.

  “So,” Rhind began, we have two formulas that killed rats that we have not yet tried on people. We have three more diseased in captivity. The chances are that if the first concoction failed, these will do also. But, as you say, we have nothing to lose. My wife is a lot older and frailer than the other two and she has been sick longer. I think there is nothing to be gained from risking all three of them at this stage so I would suggest we use just two of them - the men. One compound can be injected into either one.”

  Collins was perturbed by this thought but the rationale was reasonable and she could not argue. Both formulas had already been made and there was nothing to stop them from proceeding immediately.

  Lewis first wanted to clear up the remains from the carnage to avoid any disease developing. There were various infected corpses to be disposed of; after all, they no longer had the burden of the Incarcerated to feed. There were also the bodies of various soldiers that had to be buried. There was a small patch of grass towards the west of the carpark which was good enough for the task. Matthews, Allen, Collins, Williams, Neale and Mayoh dug one large, communal hole. Most of the remaining soldiers had injuries and would have been unable to contribute much to the effort. The dead soldiers had their weapons and boots removed but otherwise were put into the ground much as they were. Everybody came outside for the simple ceremony. It was a cold day and Lewis found it hard to stop his eyes watering. Vallage seemed to have adopted religious duties for them all. He said a few prayers as the wind danced irreverently around them and sprinkled some water that he had blessed in his kitchen. Lewis could not later recall exactly what had been said. He remembered Vallage leading them all in The Lord’s Prayer, and he himself added a few words about each of the men, but it all seemed so hollow and pointless, and he tailed off before he had finished. When the deed was done they stood for a while. There was no talking, just weeping and thinking and praying; praying for the repose of their souls and praying that the nightmare might finally be drawing to a close. The remaining survivors were battered and their spirits defeated. They could take no more.

  Finally Straddling led them all back inside. Lewis was the last to remain, barely aware that his friends had mostly gone.

  “Boss,” Bannister said, standing just by his elbow. Berthon and Matthews were a step behind. They all looked nervously around, gripping their weapons. “Boss, we’ve gotta get inside.”

  Although he did believe that the vampires were now dead, Lewis realised that it would take a while for the mental scars to heal, and a while before they all believed they were once again safe in their new home.

  Everyone was waiting for him in the cafeteria. He did not need to ask why. He just nodded and they all proceeded down to the rooms where the infected were kept. Darby was first. His belligerence had lessened over the past week, possibly due to hunger reducing his energy levels or possibly due to decreasing brain activity. Physically he had really started to show the signs of the illness. His hair had come out in clumps and his skin was discoloured with lesions starting to form. Some of his teeth had fallen out and the whites of his eyes were yellowed with red rims. Despite his fatigue he threw himself at the door when approached, screaming and frothing. Only Lewis, the scientists and a couple of soldiers went into the outer room. The rest kept a discreet distance.

  When it came to Wood’s turn, Collins remained right at the back. She did not want to even hear him, let alone see him. Wood was just as hostile as Darby but he had only been ill for a week whereas Darby had been sick for two. His physical degeneration was nowhere near as pronounced. His skin was grey and he looked gaunt. His hair had started to thin, he had lost a couple of teeth and his eyes were tainted but otherwise he was just emaciated. The body was still recognisable as the man he had once been.

  The crowd returned to the canteen leaving the scientists behind, with Hutchison, Mayoh, Allen and Neale to guard them. They would stay and monitor, in case there was any important information to be gained. Regular updates were sent back to the others but Collins found it unbearable and could not listen. She distracted herself with Wilson and helping with the children - she was not the only one who had benefitted from the puppy’s playful attention. Both children really lit up when Wilson was with them.

  All the medical staff were extremely busy. Now that the adrenaline of fear and the pressing demands of staying alive seemed to have subsided for now, the bruises and cuts, sprains and cracked ribs were starting to demand attention. No one complained however about the hangovers they shared from the booze the night before. If that was all they had to grumble about then it was not a bad day.

  For the most part the reports sent back from the scientists were fairly unexciting. Nothing happened fo
r much of the day. Eventually both of the infected subjects seemed to tire. Instead of their constant pacing and ranting, they sat down. They seemed listless and their aggression subsided. Even when the scientists tried to provoke a reaction they barely registered it. Darby was the first to start retching. He held his head in hands as though in great pain and rolled onto his side. He started to thrash about and projected his vomit forcefully. This continued for some time, before the scientists noticed the blood. It was seeping from his ears, nose and mouth and he began to shake violently. Even though he was no longer the same person he once was, even though he would have attacked and killed any of them given the opportunity, nevertheless the scientists could not help but feel sorry for him. He was mentally not much better than a wild animal and to see any creature experiencing such suffering was extremely distressing.

  In Wood’s prison things were much the same. The scientists went back and forth, comparing and making notes with an increasing sense of dismay. Although they had doubted the chances of success, they were not immune to an elevation of hope, along with everybody else. As the evening gave way to night the subjects were both quiet. Apart from occasional slight moans or movements there was nothing more to be seen. Sleeping facilities were arranged for Rhind and Bennett outside the two rooms and exhaustion easily claimed everyone else.

  At dawn Lewis was awoken by a gentle shaking. Matthews stood over him nervously.

  “Sir, Rhind wants you,” he whispered.

  He was on his feet instantly, ignoring his complaining limbs. Everyone else was still asleep but he could see through the window that the sky was turning. The blackness was giving way to light, subtle hues of colour were forcing themselves upon the sky.