The Alpha Plague - Books 1 - 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Action Thriller

by Michael Robertson

  The smell of rot smothered her when he leant close, his mouth a hole of rancid decay. Saliva rained down the back of Hope’s throat as he pushed his face closer still.

  When he burrowed into her neck, every inch of her skin crawled. His sweat was a fetid mix of garlic and stale beer. Hope guessed he drank so he could blame it on the alcohol. But it wasn’t about the booze. The demons driving him were biological, not chemical.

  Letting her hand fall to the dusty floor, Hope grabbed the half brick she’d managed to break out of the wall earlier that day. Gripping it so hard the sharpness of it dug into her hand, she drew a deep breath and closed her eyes as she waited.

  Then she heard it.

  Having been through this so many times, she now recognized the sound she was once oblivious to. Now it was the only thing she heard. Like a warrior drawing a sword, his incisors unsheathed with a damp slither.

  A red light flashed in her vision as he bit down, his teeth sinking into her. Overwhelmed by her raging pulse, her neck burning, she listened to the wet slurps and gripped the brick harder.

  Releasing an orgasmic groan, the man sucked so hard on her neck it pulled the skin tight and restricted her breath.

  Gasping as she cringed against his bite, Hope thought of her mom, dad, and brother. “This can’t go on,” she murmured.

  The man either didn’t hear her, or didn’t care.

  What else could she do? At least this way she could rescue them. Her life was a small price to pay.

  Taking a deep breath, Hope swung the brick at the side of his head. It connected with a wet crack and he pulled away, her neck on fire from where his teeth had torn at it.

  Looking up at the large man, most of him in shadow except for his wide, white eyes, Hope brought the brick up again. Crack!

  For a second, he teetered on the edge of his balance. Then he tilted to the side, hitting the floor with a heavy thump that shook the room.

  Jumping to her feet, her vision blurred with tears, Hope delivered another cracking blow to his head. Winding up for another one, she stopped herself.

  With her pulse sounding in her ears, and her breath ragged, she looked down at the man. “Not too much, Hope. He can’t die yet.”

  Moving over to him, she pushed her face close to his and her neck bled onto his shirt. Although his breaths were shallow, they were there. She hadn’t gone too far.

  Watching his large chest rise and fall, the stench of his rancid breath wafting up to her, Hope gulped back her excess saliva. Could she do it? It was the only way. She had to meet them on their terms. But could she do it? If she didn’t do it now, what other chance would she get? Lucien would already be furious with her. She had to follow through.

  Drawing a deep breath, a slow heave fighting to turn her stomach inside out, she leant over him, opened her mouth wide, and latched onto his neck.

  A layer of salty sweat sat on his skin. It ran up her tongue, twisting her face. Fighting every instinct in her body, she bit down.

  Without vampire incisors, penetrating his skin was more difficult than she’d anticipated. Battling her weakening jaw, she bit as hard as she could.

  When her teeth eventually sank into his flesh, every atom of her being told her to pull back, but she stayed where she was. Biting again, chewing into his body, she felt the rush of blood fill her mouth. A thick, rich, metallic gush swelled her cheeks. Thinking of her little brother, Ben, she swallowed, tears running down her face.

  As the hot blood slid down her throat, bile roiled up from her stomach, but she pushed on. It was the only way. To beat them, she had to become one of them. To become one of them, she had to be bitten and bite back. She’d heard the first was always the worst. Please, God, let that be true.

  Pulling away, she could see the dark liquid pumping from the chunk in his neck. Should she drink more? There was no way she’d get a chance to do this again.

  Running her arm across her mouth to remove the blood, she leant over once more and drank from his wound.

  After several big gulps, she fell back, his blood swilling in her empty stomach.

  A few minutes passed and Hope saw he was still breathing. Removing the dagger from his belt, she grabbed it with both hands and drove it into his heart.

  The second it punctured his skin, he came to life with a scream.

  Moments later, he fell limp and his breathing stopped. It wasn’t about stakes, garlic, daylight, and holy water. Vampires died like anyone else; you just had to be quicker and smarter than they were.

  Walking over to the corner of the room, she pressed her back against it and fell to the floor.

  Now all she had to do was wait.

  Shivering as she sat in the corner, Hope continued to watch the dead man as if he could reanimate at any moment. She’d sat there for so long the blood had dried against her chin. Unable to leave until she turned, Hope had no idea how long she had before someone came to see what was up.

  The John that visited her was a no frills kind of customer. He was a straight feeder. A missionary position kind of guy. Some of the things that had been done to her in the months since she’d been locked in the dank room … A chill ran through her as the fractured chaos of her traumatic stay tore through her mind’s eye.

  The problem with them sending him, however, was that they’d expect him out sooner than some of the others. It was hard to guess how long she had before someone realized something was wrong. What would Lucien say when he found out?

  Dizzy with queasiness, she rocked on her bottom with her knees gathered to her chest. The fever made her body tingle, electrifying her skin as sweat oozed from her pores.

  Feeling the blood in her veins thicken, her heart pumping harder to push it through her body, she breathed heavily to keep up.

  The changes started in her stomach, tearing at it from the inside like the mutation had claws.

  She felt it thrashing around in her guts, a feral beast fighting to get to the surface. She rocked harder and groaned.

  Falling onto her side, gripped by the fever, she twisted with contorted and palsied movement.

  Snapping into the foetal position, she rocked, sweated, and whined. “Please, hurry up. Please.” The smell of moss in the room became stronger than ever, mixing with the reek of his blood.

  Her head spun.

  Her world went dark.

  When Hope opened her eyes, the light burned. Snapping them shut immediately, she remained dazzled by the white glare left behind her eyelids. Frowning hard, she opened them again, squinting as she looked up at the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling.

  She was still in her cell and the light bulb was still off. The room was as dark as ever. The bare brick walls still glistened with damp. Yet she could see much more clearly. With her crystallizing vision, everything seemed brighter.

  When she sat up, her heart hammered in her chest as if it had trebled in size. She looked at the dead man on the floor. Her newly acquired clarity allowed her to see the raw hole in the side of his neck. She’d chewed through to his vertebral column. Swallowing her excess saliva, she leant towards him. She wanted more.

  When a sharp searing pain gripped her jaw, Hope opened her mouth wide. Dribble ran over her lips and down her chin. When she swallowed, she tasted the metallic tang of her own blood.

  As her incisors grew, they tore at her gums and forced the surrounding teeth out with them.

  With blood and spit dripping from her open mouth, she looked at the floor and let it flow out.

  When several teeth followed the bloody drool, Hope cried. Her incisors continued to grow.

  Coming to again, Hope sat up, her gums still stinging, her enlarged incisors sitting awkwardly in her mouth. The worst of the pain may have gone, but the sharp sting of betrayal remained. With her parents devoting their lives to gathering information on the vampire families, what would they say if they saw her now?

  But it was what she had to do. She needed a vampire’s strength to get out of there. It was either that or
spend a lifetime in servitude.

  Getting to her feet, her heart beating like a bass drum, Hope let the power of her new body settle. Wriggling her fingers, her grip feeling stronger than before, she filled her lungs, more oxygen rushing in than she’d ever been able to inhale in the past.

  Walking over to the dead man on the floor, she lifted his arm, held it in a grip with both hands, and bent it with a wet crack like it was a dry twig.

  Dropping his appendage, she took a deep breath and couldn’t help but smile.

  She was ready.

  Gripping the cold metal handle, Hope held her breath and pushed it down. Despite what she knew, experience had taught her to be disappointed, so when the door moved, her heart skipped. Pushing it away from her, its yawning creak stretching down the hall, she looked through the small gap.

  Despite being in the room for months, it was the first time she’d seen the hallway. When Lucien had originally brought her in, her head was covered with a sack that stank of halitosis and fear so she’d seen nothing. She hadn’t been outside her room since.

  When she used to lie on her mattress, listening to the echoing steps outside, she’d formed an idea of the size of the hallway. But now she was looking at it, it was three times larger than what she’d imagined. The ceiling was so high, it was lost to darkness.

  Scanning the dim corridor, the walls lined with burning torches that brought the shadows to life, she searched for other people. There was no one else around.

  Pushing the door slightly wider, the rusty hinges groaning in protest, she slipped out of her room and shut it as quietly as she could behind her.

  As she stood in the empty space, Hope was bombarded by a cacophony of voices. Looking around, she couldn’t see a thing. Where was the noise coming from?

  Then she realized that the sounds were coming from behind the closed doors that ran up the hallway. She could hear everything.

  A series of gasps and groans rose above the chaos. The noise of some feeding and some being fed upon. The whimpering of cows, whores, or whatever else Lucien called them, grew louder than anything else as if she were tuning into it.

  They said they’d put her the farthest away so no one could hear her scream. Now that Hope was in the corridor, she saw that it was true. Faced with a dead end one way and an open walkway in the other direction, it made the choice of which way to go a simple one.

  Gripping the dagger, she walked towards the door for the room next to hers, the sounds of master and slave getting louder.

  Pressing her face against the cold steel, screwing her nose up at the reek of rust, she listened. Two men, one girl. The men were laughing. The girl was whimpering.

  While holding her breath, she grabbed the handle with a shaking hand. With her heart thumping in her chest, she gently opened the door.

  The girl inside was about her age—no more than fourteen—and the two fully grown men were sucking on her neck, one on each side. They pawed at her naked body as they fed. Groping, raking, probing. The girl shook and cried.

  Slipping inside, Hope closed the door behind herself. The blood lust made the men stupid. They were oblivious to their fate.

  Walking over to them on tiptoes, her faint footfalls lost to the sounds of feasting, Hope raised the dagger in the air. As she stared at the back of one of the men, the muscles in her arm coiled like a cobra waiting to strike. Before she let loose, she made eye contact with the girl to see her watery stare widen in her pale face.

  Hope then drove the dagger into the man’s back, the crack of his ribs echoing through the room.

  The other man pulled away from the girl, his slack mouth glistening red and hanging open. Hissing at him, Hope thrust the dagger directly into his eye.

  As the second man fell to the floor next to the first, she panted from the exertion of taking two more lives and stared at the petrified girl.

  When Hope stepped forward, the girl shifted back, hugging herself with her skinny arms, covering her shame.

  Looking at the girl, her lithe and naked body dirty from an existence in this place, Hope then saw the puncture wounds in her neck. Her mouth watered, her teeth slid forward, and her jaw hung open. Her heart rate increased as the metallic smell of blood filled her senses. It was so rich she could almost taste the sweetness of it.

  With only a few meters between them, Hope could hear the girl’s beating heart going off like a bass drum. It was ready to pump sustenance into her. Ready to fill her with strength.

  Licking her lips, Hope stepped forward.

  The girl backed up until she was pressed against the far wall.

  If she took just a little bit, she could let her go afterwards. The strength would help her rescue her family.

  Her family.

  Shaking her head, Hope snapped from her trance and turned her back on the girl. She’d only planned to live long enough to find her family. She didn’t need to thrive, just survive.

  Hope walked over to the door and peered outside. It was still clear. Flicking the light switch in the corridor illuminated the room and she slipped back inside.

  The cell was much like hers. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling. A soiled mattress lay on the floor. A bucket for waste sat in the corner. A naked girl contained within four walls, scared and confused. Looking at the girl again, her pallid skin holding pints of blood, Hope turned around and faced the corner.

  “Get out of here.”

  At first, the girl didn’t respond. Finally, she said, “Huh?”

  Dropping down into a ball, Hope stared at the floor. “Get out of here. Now!” Her raised voice was amplified by the small space in front of her.

  Rocking on her haunches, her mouth watering so badly she was drooling, Hope closed her eyes, images of blood and flesh strobing a psychotic slideshow through her mind.

  Clamping her hands over her ears, Hope groaned. Nipping the air in front of her as if she could taste the girl’s metallic fragrance, Hope started to lose her vision.

  Her breathing got heavier. Her teeth screamed to puncture flesh.

  Losing herself to the intoxication of blood lust, she jumped to her feet, spun around, bared her fangs, and hissed at the girl.

  But the girl had gone.

  Panting as she stood in the cell, Hope’s shoulders relaxed.

  Walking up the corridor, Hope noticed the air freshening before she noticed the slight incline. How far were they from the surface?

  Coming upon the next rusty door, she pressed her ear against it again.

  Nothing.

  Taking a deep breath, she dropped the handle down and pulled it open.

  When she saw what was in the room, her legs wobbled and her breath quickened. “Fuck!”

  Their hands were bound with chains attached to the ceiling. Their skinny bodies hung limp. With their clothes flayed from their backs, furious scars criss-crossing their exposed flesh, Hope stared at her parents, suspended like slaughtered animals.

  The coldness of her dad’s body spread throughout the room, chilling her heart. How long ago had he died?

  Although her mother was as motionless, Hope felt the faintest pulse. There was life in her yet.

  Despite hearing the murmur of her beating heart, Hope had no craving for her mother’s essence.

  Speaking in a croak, Hope said, “Mom?”

  Nothing.

  Stepping closer, Hope tried again. “Mom?” There was already a slight hiss to her words. The monster was possessing her with every passing second.

  When Hope heard her mom whimper, she stopped still and watched her for movement. “Mom?” The chains holding her mother in place looked like they’d be impossible to remove.

  When there was still no reply, Hope reached forward and lifted her mother’s chin. When she saw her face, she froze, suddenly understanding why she didn’t thirst for her blood.

  The face of shame stared back at her. Black eyes, long fangs, a blood-stained chin.

  Drawing a stuttered breath, Hope’s world blurred.


  Looking again at the blood around her mom’s mouth, Hope glanced across at her dad. There were bite marks in his neck. Her mother’s maws were still sticky, glistening in what little light there was in the room.

  Panic constricted Hope’s chest as she shook her head and clamped her hand over her mouth. “You haven’t, Mom. Not Dad.”

  Staring back at her daughter, Hope’s mother blinked, a solitary tear leaking from one of her black eyes and sliding down her cheek. She then looked down at the dagger in Hope’s hand.

  Trembling where she stood, Hope frowned against the grief that surged forward in a hot wave. “I’ll get Lucien, Mom. I’ll make sure of it.”

  The black eyes stared back at her before looking down at the dagger again.

  Taking a deep breath, Hope screamed as she thrust the blade into her mother’s chest.

  The chains hanging from the ceiling snapped taut as her mother’s body fell limp.

  Crying as she stared at both of her parents, her mom having given over to the hunger, Hope sneered. “I’m coming for you, Lucien. Don’t think you’ve gotten away with this. I’m coming for you.”

  That was when she heard a slamming door followed by a roar. His deep voice echoed down the hallway. “Where is she?”

  Running into the corridor again, Hope’s stomach churned when she heard him say, “There’s two more dead in here. Where’s the bitch gone?”

  At that moment, Lucien stepped out into the hallway.

  Freezing, Hope stared at him.

  He stared back.

  When he stretched his mouth wide and hissed, Hope ran.

  As she made her way up the corridor, Lucien called after her, his heavy footsteps slapping against the concrete floor as he gave chase.

  Before she rounded the next corner, Hope heard others up ahead. They were cutting her off. Seeing a door to another room, she yanked it open and darted inside.

  Slamming the door behind her, Hope pushed her back to it.

  Seconds later, the impact of someone kicking it rocked her where she stood.

  At the other end of the room was a four-poster bed. Draped in pink lace and linen, it looked like it belonged to a princess.