by Thomas Emson
“No, you bastard, I’m fucking starving,” said the man in the suit.
“The vampires are coming,” David said. “You want to get to safety.”
“We’re hungry,” said the woman in the suit.
“You should find somewhere safe,” said David.
The man in the suit said, “And where’s safe, eh?”
The woman said, “The kid’s right, we should try to – ”
“Tell me, son,” said the man, “where’s safe?”
“I don’t know where’s safe, mate,” David said. “I’m just saying.”
Now the dad stepped forward, looking mean and desperate. “You got food in that rucksack, lad?” he said. He had given the burger to his children, who had scoffed it immediately, and now they fought over the crumbs.
“No, I got nothing.”
He had some stale bread and beef jerky, but he wasn’t sharing. He started backing away. You had to look after yourself. Especially if you were on a mission like he was. If he saw someone starving or being attacked, he’d help. He always did. But Jake had told him, “Make sure you’re OK first, then look after everyone else. It’s like what they tell you on aeroplanes – put your own oxygen mask on first before helping the person next to you with theirs. You’re useless dead.”
The businesswoman tried to pull the man away. But he hit her, making her lip bleed.
She gasped in shock. “You hit me – you fucking hit me.”
“He’s got food,” said the man. “This kid’s got food.”
“I got kids,” said the father. “You can’t let my kids starve.”
“Give us the food,” said the mum.
“I’m hungry,” said one of the kids.
David panicked.
He remembered what Jake had said:
Keep your head, control your fear, and fix on a plan.
His plan was to escape.
He wheeled, ready to sprint down the road.
The businessman lunged at him and grabbed his sleeve. David punched the businessman in the face. The bloke staggered away. David started to run down the road.
And three vampires ran towards him. He stopped dead.
The creatures leapt over parked cars, and bounded off the sides of buildings.
The children screamed.
The mother said, “Oh my God, Alan.”
The dad, Alan, said, “Christ almighty, give them the boy.”
The businessman shoved David towards the vampires and ran the other way. But the vampires swung away from David, spotting the red ring he wore. They glanced at him and hissed, knowing they could not touch him. But to them it didn’t matter. They had their sights on a food supply.
Those people were going to die. The kids. Their parents. The businessman and his wife.
They were screaming and running.
David shouted, “You bastards, treating me like that – you deserve what you get.”
He cursed himself. For being weak. For being a child. For being a coward.
He took two stakes out of his rucksack. He chased the vampires.
CHAPTER 56. THE SCHOOL PHOTOGRAPH.
“SORRY about what we did,” said the woman in the torn business suit. She was called Clare. Her lip was swollen. Her husband, Jeff, sat slumped in the alley. “We… we didn’t know you were… you were a vampire killer.”
“That’s all right,” said David.
There were only the three of them. The family had fled. The vampires were ashes. Nearby, the screams and shouts continued. But to David it seemed that he was in a tranquil place where nothing could get at him.
“You were very brave,” said Clare. “A boy, but very brave.”
She was staring right at him, her eyes glazed over. She glanced at her husband. He was out of it, trembling and whining in the alley. Then Clare lunged forward and kissed David on the cheek.
He froze. He felt weird. He looked at her. Her blonde hair was matted with grease and blood. Her face was dirty. But her eyes glittered.
“Can I have some food?” she asked. “I’m starving. I’ll… I’ll… oh, my God… do anything… ”
He reached into his rucksack and gave her a piece of bread and some jerky. Glancing at her husband, the woman wolfed it down. Crumbs peppered her jacket and skirt. Spit oozed from her mouth. She ate like an animal. But David knew how she felt. Starvation did that to you. Made you go primal. He gave her his canteen and she started to drink, but then hesitated.
“Is it… is it clean?” she said. “Not vampire water? Not contaminated?”
He shook his head. She stared.
“You first,” she said.
He took the canteen back and gulped down a mouthful, before handing it back to the woman.
She drank, just a couple of swigs. Then gave him back the canteen.
She said, “Thank you, thank you for not making me do something absolutely awful for a little bit of food. You’re kind. I’m sick. I’m disgusting.”
“It’s OK.”
“I – had a son your age. Fifteen?”
“Nearly fourteen.”
“He – he – ” her face creased up with emotion. “He was… yes… he was fifteen. His sister, she was – was twelve. They – they were taken, oh God, taken by vampires. Two months ago. Oh God, do you think they’re dead?”
“No, they’re undead,” said David.
Clare looked at him.
“Do you have a mum, a dad?”
“Dad’s dead. My brother too.”
“Were they… “
He nodded.
“Your mum?”
David fought back the tears.
“You don’t have to – ”
“It’s OK. She – she’s with the government, I think.”
“What?”
“I think they’re holding her hostage.”
“Your mum? Why?”
He told her who his mother was.
“Oh God, so you know Jake Lawton?”
He nodded.
The woman’s face darkened.
“He caused this,” she said.
“No he didn’t.”
“He caused it, that’s what they say.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Your his friend and you gave me food, you little shit.”
“I’m not a shit,” said David.
“You’ve probably poisoned that water.”
“I drank it, you saw.”
“Jake Lawton caused this,” she said, getting to her feet. “He killed my kids.”
Her eyes burned with hate. Her face was twisted into a mask of rage.
“If he hadn’t killed all those vampires, they’d’ve left us alone,” said Clare. “We’d be living peacefully with them.”
“You’re joking,” said David, standing up, getting worried, retreating down the alley.
“You are one of them. Your mother is Christine Murray. Lawton’s ally. Lawton’s friend. They’re probably doing it, too. You’re a rebel, a traitor.”
“Traitor?” said David.
Shit, he thought. Trapped.
He’d stupidly backed down the alley. Stupidly lost concentration. Stupidly let her cut off his escape route.
He wasn’t sure about the rights and wrongs of attacking a woman. Jake had said, “If you’re life is in danger, your responsibility is to protect it.”
“That’s right – traitor,” said Clare, her face malevolent. Her eyes glittered in the darkness. Her hands curled into claws. David’s rucksack was on the floor behind her. He had no weapons, just his fists. He was being forced back down the alley, towards where Clare’s husband was sitting.
“Jeff,” she shrieked. “Jeff, wake up, you bastard.”
David heard shuffling behind him. He looked over his shoulder. Jeff was coming to. He got to his feet.
“What’s – what’s going on? Clare? What are you – ”
“He’s one of them,” she said, pointing at David. “He’s one of them traitors.”
David wa
s trapped between Clare and Jeff. He panted, his heart beating fast. Sweat soaking his clothes.
“His mum’s that Murray woman, and he’s friends with Jake Lawton. He’s Jake Lawton’s little buddy.”
“That soldier bloke?” said Jeff.
“That’s right, the one who caused all this,” said Clare.
“He didn’t cause it,” said David. “George Fuad lied to you. You saw it on the TV. Everyone’s being carried off to camps. The vampires are taking over.”
“He’s right, Clare,” said Jeff.
“You can’t believe the telly,” she said. “Might be a plot by him, this kid, and that Lawton.”
“You what?” said David. “I saved you from those vampires.”
“He did save us, Clare.”
“And I gave you food,” said David.
“He gave you food?” said Jeff.
“He wanted sex off me,” she said.
“You what?” said Jeff.
“He wanted to make me a pervert, make me fuck a little boy.”
David gawped. Clare looked out of her mind. Jeff was angry.
“I didn’t,” said David. “She’s lying. I gave it to her.”
“Oh, you gave it to her, did you,” said Jeff, striding up the alley towards David. “You gave it to my wife.”
“No, the food, I gave her food.”
Jeff ran full pelt towards David.
If your life is in danger, your responsibility is to protect it.
David charged at Clare.
She screamed in anger.
He barged her out of the way, ran over her.
He raced out into the street, scooped up his rucksack.
Clare and Jeff came shrieking after him.
She was shouting, “He’s one of them, he’s a traitor, he’s a traitor.”
David ran. Just anywhere. He cursed himself. Jake had always said, “Focus, focus.”
He was knackered. Sweating and panting.
He raced along an alley and found himself in Chinatown. The road was closed at both ends. And blocking off his routes, east and west, were Nebuchadnezzar patrols. The restaurants were boarded up. Everything was dead. He thought about turning back, going down the alley again. But Clare and Jeff were still chasing him.
They came up the alley screaming, “Traitor, traitor.”
The Nebs hadn’t seen him, yet, hadn’t heard Jeff and Clare.
But the couple were getting closer and getting louder, screaming at David, thundering along the alley.
He looked both ways, and both ways Nebs waited.
And out of the alley came Jeff and Clare.
David bolted right.
The couple raced after him, yelling.
The Neb militia up ahead noticed.
Four of them leapt to attention and aimed their guns towards David, Jeff, and Clare.
“Stay where you are,” one of them called.
David slowed. Clare bumped into him. They fell. She pinned him down. He tried to push off her him, but she clawed at him and slapped him.
“He’s one of them,” she said. “He caused it – him and Jake Lawton. He’s that bastard Lawton’s friend.”
The Nebuchadnezzars rushed over. They shoved Clare away. They grabbed David. He struggled, but they were strong. They tore the rucksack off his back and emptied its contents.
“He’s got a mark,” said one of them, grabbing his hand and seeing the ring. “You a Neb?”
“Yes, I’m a Neb,” said David.
Another Nebuchadnezzar thug tipped out the rucksack. Stakes clattered to the ground.
“Not what you’d expect to find in a Neb’s possession, son,” said the most senior militia men.
“It’s their rucksack,” said David, gesturing at Jeff and Clare. She was going mental, screeching and spitting. Jeff tried to pull her away.
“Fuck off, kid,” said the senior Neb. “You’re a fucking rebel cunt. I know your ugly little mug. Gemmell, get me that file from the truck.”
After a few moments, the Neb who’d been ordered to retrieve the file came back with it. A plastic folder fat with pages. The senior militia man creased his brow and flipped through it. Then he stopped at a page and smiled. David knew he was in trouble. The militia officer held up the file. The page showed a photograph of David. It was a school photo. He wore his uniform. In the photo, he was grinning. He looked young and innocent, and untainted by the world of vampires. Seeing it punched a hole in his heart.
“Ah, cute fella,” said the senior Neb. “David fucking Murray.”
The Neb slapped him across the face. The blow stung. David tasted blood in his mouth.
“It’s the Murray kid,” said the Neb.
“Traitor,” screamed Clare.
“Chuck him in the back of the van,” the Neb said. “You’re under arrest, sunshine. Don’t say anything, or I’ll cut out your tongue. Mr Fuad wants to see you personally. He’s going to be your trial judge himself. And your jury. And your fucking executioner, kid.”
They dragged him towards the truck. David fought as hard as he could, but strong hands gripped him.
He heard Clare say, “Is there a reward?”
The senior Neb said, “Reward? No. No reward. Only judgment, you stupid tart. Toss her and that bloke in the trucks. Put him in the food truck, and her in the farm truck. She’ll be good for breeding.”
Clare and Jeff screamed as they were separated and dragged away.
CHAPTER 57. DARK DAYS.
MURRAY gazed down from her room in Religion.
The streets were filled with carnage.
Cars were strewn everywhere. Vampires attacked humans. Nebs herded people into trucks and coaches. A lot of people had locked themselves away. But those with no homes – and there were many – were in the line of fire. People had thought they were relatively safe at night. But vampire attacks had increased immediately after Fuad’s victory. The nights would be very dangerous from now on.
What’s worse? she wondered. To be killed by vampires now, or to be herded into those trucks and buses and taken to breeding facilities or food centres?
Some of those innocent people would be crammed into prisons, where they’d have to share cells with rapists and murderers. Others would be dumped into the human breeding programme that would ensure humans were never an endangered species, that vampires had enough food stocks.
Those not fit to breed would be food themselves. They would go directly to warehouses or prisons where they would be stored, ready for feeding time.
It made Murray sick. She had to sit down or she was going to pass out if she had to think anymore about the state of Britain.
But her mind had been infected by Fuad’s vision. His plans were imprinted on her brain. There was no getting away from the atrocities he was committing and would continue to commit. No human was safe unless he or she was a Nebuchadnezzar or had declared support for them. And even then, who knew what Fuad would do? He could turn on his friends as easily as he’d turned on his enemies. Like all dictators, he displayed evidence of paranoia. He had told Murray of terrible things, of the savagery he would inflict on Britain.
“But it’s all for the best,” he’d said. “Britain will suffer before it gets better.”
He’d spoken of gladiatorial games, where the public would gather to watch vampires unleashed on humans.
He spoke of spreading his empire far and wide and told her how he’d conquer nations with his vampire army.
He spoke of bringing Nimrod from Iraq and how he would stand shoulder to shoulder with a god.
He was mad. But who would stop him? Lawton had been captured in Baghdad, according to Fuad. Her son was lost in London, but what could a boy his age do?
It was all over.
The days ahead were dark.
Every enemy of the state would face judgment.
She turned on the TV, but more of the same played out on the screen. Images from Manchester were showing. It had been the first city after London that Fuad
targeted. He wanted to target Manchester because that’s where February’s rebellion had started, where Kwan Mei had raised her army, and where her march on the capital had begun.
But where was she, now? Captured? Dead? Hiding?
There was no one left – that was the terrible truth.
Murray felt alone.
She started to think about dying. Should she kill herself or allow a vampire to kill her? Or perhaps she should see out her life as a slave to Fuad. Maybe he’d let her live. Maybe that way, she’d see David again. Thinking of her son ignited hope in her heart.
She would fight, she decided in that moment.
And she would die doing it.
She looked at the clock on the TV news channel. Nearly 5.00am, another day soon to dawn.
She was so tired. She wanted to sleep. But the noise from the street had kept her awake, and now and again Fuad’s milita men would stomp along the corridor, laughing loudly as they boasted about some cruelty inflicted on unfortunate victims.
In a while, one of Fuad’s lackeys would bring her a cup of tea. It was a ruse to keep her awake, she thought. Deprive her of sleep. Be noisy during the night, and then rouse her at an ungodly hour. They liked keeping her on her toes.
Right on time, there was a knock on the door. Before she could say, “Come in,” the door was unlocked and opened.
A man in a waiter’s uniform came in. He was in his fifties. Green eyes. Tattoos on his big, thick hands. Rings on every sausage-fat finger. A handgun in a holster on his hip.
“Morning,” he said. “Tea’s up. Compliments of our new Prime Minister. Start the day as you mean to go on, and all that.”
He placed a tray containing a cup and saucer, a teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl, and teaspoon, on the coffee table.
“Back in fifteen,” he said before leaving and locking the door behind him.
She took the tray into the bathroom and emptied the teapot down the sink.
Back in the living room, she waited for a few minutes. She checked the time. Seven minutes before he would return. Three minutes. Two minutes. One. A knock on the door, the key turning.
She lay on the sofa, jug in her hand.
The waiter entered.
