by Paul Cave
He stood there for a moment, transfixed by the photograph. Memories flashed to mind, and next he was standing on his own lawn, looking up at the door of his new home. He felt the late afternoon sun on his back. He twisted his head and looked upon the abandoned Buick. Rather than seeing the strange vehicle parked awkwardly, he found instead a newly washed Sedan.
A feeling stirred in his stomach. Warmth. He remembered – felt – the enjoyment of having arrived home from school after another long day of teaching. The excitement he felt came from the anticipation of seeing his wife, Hannah. They hadn’t been married long when a position for head science teacher had arisen at Pittsburgh Elementary. As usual, he spent weeks worrying about a thousand unlikely events that could have gone wrong: moving to a different city and a strange house; new friends and colleagues; and the onslaught of spirited pupils, either eager to learn or hinder. But most of all he worried about Hannah being unable to find a job and becoming bored whilst stuck at home. And she must have been, but never once did she complain.
On his arrival home, he’d insert his key and expect her to be sitting watching some brain-numbing television show, barely able to muster up enough enthusiasm to say hello. Yet as always, she’d met him at the door, all smiles and excitement, and ready to launch into a thousand questions about his day. More often than not they sat up late, eating an improvised supper, after spending the best part of the evening in bed together.
He closed his eyes and, for a second, he thought he could smell a trace of her sweet skin on the night breeze. The warmth he felt in his stomach turned to pain. He opened his eyes and was once again confronted with the terrible world before him.
“Damn it all to hell,” he whispered, pushing his memories aside. He carried on towards the alleyway. The loving and beloved Jacob Cain of old was left behind. Now a soldier of humanity, he drew his weapon and stepped into the darkness.
Inside the alleyway he found other remnants of a past life or time. However, rather than allow himself to ponder on these items, he instead focused his attention on the things he could not see. The alleyway was narrow, about ten feet wide and twenty feet long. At the end it opened out into two untended backyards.
He looked up into the sky and saw that the dark swirl of clouds had turned into a heavy grey. Another day had broken and somewhere beyond the endless cloud of dust the sun burnt with brilliant intensity. The slightly lightened sky offered Jacob some relief from the darkness
Something clattered to ground. An object fell directly in front of him. His gun pulled itself directly towards the fallen object - just a can, rusted and empty.
“Shit,” he breathed.
He reached the end of the short alleyway unscathed. Stepping from between the abandoned buildings, he found himself in the centre of two neglected gardens. The gardens – if that’s what they still were – were two simple square plots of ground, which had once been home to lush green turf. Now, the turf under his boots had become a hard brown scab. Running along the border of the gardens were the remains of a fence. Most of the wood had rotted away to leave just an occasional segment of timber.
He found both gardens empty so turned back, deciding whatever he’d seen must now be long gone. He took one step only though when a small object darted out from the cover of the shadows. Vicious fangs snapped at his legs.
Shocked by the little thing that attacked his ankles, he muttered, “What the hell ...?” The thing continued to bite and nip at the tough leather of his boot. He reached down and gripped hold of the miniature attacker. The fangs held on.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he said.
He managed to pull the teeth away from his boot. He lifted the attacker up and looked directly into two furry brows. Two small pebble-like eyes blinked back.
“I don’t know what you are, but you stink!” he told the matted and foul-smelling creature.
Yap! Scratch barked back.
Jacob tucked the mutt under his arm and then headed back to the main street. The terrier twitched about as he returned to the small party. He pulled the mutt free and then handed it directly to Lieutenant Hutson.
She took the offering, asking, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“I don’t know. You’re a woman. Aren’t you supposed to like those things?”
“If I knew what it was, then, maybe …” Hutson replied.
“Hey – wait a minute,” Elliot said, moving over to Hutson. “Isn’t that Scratch?”
“Who?” Hutson asked. She was holding the mutt out at arm’s reach.
“Yeah – it’s Scratch,” Elliot confirmed. “Hey boy, where’ve ya been?” He reached out and tickled the dog behind its ear. “Jeez, I think you’re in need of a good bath.”
“Ain’t we all?” Hutson said. She bent and dropped the mutt to the ground. Scratch ran straight to Jacob, and again he attacked the tracker’s boot.
Hutson laughed. “I think he’s either hungry, or he dislikes you immensely.”
“I ain’t too keen on him, either,” Jacob replied. He tried to gently kick the mutt away. “And if he’s just hungry then he’ll have to wait in line because I’m about ready to eat these boots myself.”
“Hey, the food at base isn’t that bad,” Elliot joked.
“No?” Jacob asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Okay – okay, you’re right, it is pretty bad. Hey, perhaps I could share the left boot with Scratch?”
Captain Banantyne interrupted them. “Enough of this foolishness. We need to move on! Get rid of that … thing.”
“Yes sir!” Jacob said, with a mock salute. “Okay boy, enough is enough.” He reached down and plucked the mutt from off his boot. “Now behave yourself,” he told the dog. He dropped Scratch and, to his dismay, the dog returned to the boot.
“For God’s sake, shoot the fucking thing,” Banantyne growled.
An uncompromising stare from Jacob put paid to that.
“Wait a minute,” Hutson said. “Jacob, raise your foot.”
“What?” the tracker asked.
“Raise your foot,” she repeated.
His foot rose off the ground.
“Not that high,” Hutson said, as the mutt dangled. “Just by an inch or two, and relax your leg.”
“Whatever,” Jacob muttered.
He lowered his foot and relaxed. With his paws back on firm ground, Scratch tugged on the boot, dragging the foot away from the tracker. Jacob’s leg became too far away and he had to take a large step forwards to stop himself from stumbling.
“Again,” Hutson told him.
For a second time man and dog danced a merry jig.
Hutson now understood the dog’s strange behaviour. “He’s trying to lead you somewhere!”
“I’ll be damned,” Jacob said, surprised.
“This is ridiculous!” Banantyne moaned.
Jacob ignored the captain. He squatted down next to the mutt and opened his mouth to speak, but felt suddenly foolish. His throat cleared and he took a breath before trying again.
“Okay, I’m probably insane for actually asking, you are only a dog after all, but, are you trying to lead me somewhere?”
Yap! Yap!
“What did he say?” Elliot asked.
Jacob looked up and gave the younger tracker a bemused look.
“Okay, I didn’t just ask that. But what do you think he’s trying to tell us?” Elliot corrected.
“Exactly what Lieutenant Hutson said,” Jacob said.
Woof! Woof! Scratch barked excitedly. He spun around and scampered away by about ten yards. Yap! Yap!
“Let’s go,” Jacob ordered.
With weapons drawn they ran through the empty streets, heading towards the centre of town. They reached the jailhouse in a matter of minutes. With Scratch at the fore, they ascended the steps and grouped together at the top. There, a nightmare image turned towards them, making them all catch their breaths.
A hideous, two-headed monster stood directly in front of them. The beast wa
s made up from a mishmash of limbs, flesh and fur. The bottom half appeared manlike, two legs and feet, but the top half was a combination of flabby skin, bulging arms and hairy legs. And, instead of a single head, the beast looked back at them through two pairs of eyes. One set were fixed within an elongated head, that appeared to be mainly jaws, and the second were pinned in the middle of a ruddy face. The second set of eyes blinked, surprised by the appearance of the silent spectators.
The flushed face twisted itself into a frightful grin. “Thank goodness!” Squirrel said.
Chapter Seventeen
Daniel Harper stirred. His sleep had been broken and troubled. His blanket had become so saturated with sweat that it had wrapped itself around him like a shroud. The back of his throat felt like it was on fire, and his body ached with every breath. He opened his eyes, and the weak light from the corridor outside made his head throb with pain. The pillow his head rested against was little more than a cotton wafer.
Daniel pulled himself away from the damp mattress. He peeled the blanket from around his shoulders and let it drop to the mattress. He waited for a minute until the room had steadied, then pushed himself up and took a few unsteady steps away from the bed. His bare feet slapped noisily on the hard rock.
He entered a makeshift washroom. Then held his hand under a running faucet. Cupping his hands, he splashed the cold water over his face. His face was a mask of heat and sweat. He bent and gulped mouthfuls of water, until the fire in his throat had been extinguished.
He stood back and a cracked mirror revealed a frighteningly distorted image. His face was bleached of colour. Just the seeping red scar maintained some clarity, and it throbbed painfully at the side of his cheek.
An enormous cough escaped from his lungs, spraying the mirror with specks of phlegm. He bent forwards and found tiny dots of blood mixed in with the white spittle.
“Shit …” he croaked.
He turned away from the mirror. Had he looked over his shoulder as he was leaving the room, he’d have seen the reflection of a network of sores covering the entire plane of his back.
The room he re-entered seemed slightly less painful to his eyes. He turned to the corridor, and the light appeared weak and pathetic. A slight frown creased his fevered brow. He’d felt similar earlier. One minute weak and feverish, the next, fine. Still, he decided that first thing tomorrow he would visit the new doctor and seek his advice.
The pit of his stomach grumbled.
He walked out into the corridor in just his pants, and followed the tight twists and bends until he entered the deserted canteen area. Rows of empty tables and chairs filled the room, and a single light flickered, giving the room an eerie atmosphere. Like a winged insect, he homed in on the fluorescent light. He found himself before a large refrigerator. He lifted the lid and the cold escaped, dousing him in a frozen vapour. The skin of his chest and abdomen tightened with the drop in temperature. Inside the freezer was what remained of their pitiful food stocks. Not a lot. A few frozen cuts of meat and faded packets of freeze-dried vegetables.
For a second, Daniel had to question the sense in burning fuel to continue the running of the freezer, yet understanding how the Major worked, he guessed that any semblance of normality, even a stupid near-empty freezer, helped to maintain a certain level of humanity amongst them.
“It’s a bit late for midnight snacks,” someone said from behind.
He spun around and the freezer lid slammed shut with a hollow boom.
“Who’s there?” he called.
The shadows shifted slightly and a woman appeared from out of the darkness.
“You?” Daniel said.
“Sorry, did I startle you?” she asked. She stepped closer and her long hair caught a draught, making it trail behind her like a living scarf.
Daniel recognised her as the woman who had arrived earlier with the truck full of refugees.
“What are you doing up so late?” he asked.
“I was about to ask you the same question,” she replied.
“You should be in sickbay.”
“I feel fine,” Sarah replied.
As she drew closer, he surprised himself by taking an unexpected step back.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “I won’t bite.”
Daniel released a short nervous laugh. “Listen, its cold down here and you really should be resting. You’ve endured a lot recently. It ain’t too smart wandering around the complex late at night on your own, either.”
“Don’t worry, I can look after myself.”
The light from the flickering fluorescent drew sharp angular shadows across her body. Her arms looked toned and muscular, and the tight vest she wore moulded itself to her flat stomach and slim waist. She had broad shoulders, but they remained feminine, curving to the swell of her bosom. A pair of loose fitting combat pants covered her lower half and stopped at her ankles to reveal bare feet.
Daniel looked down at his own feet and found the skin pale and his nails grey from the cold. He looked back to hers; they were pink and healthy, inviting.
“We should be getting back to bed,” he said.
“What’s the hurry?” she asked.
She passed him and opened the refrigerator. Another cloud of frost escaped, and Daniel shivered as the icy tendrils caressed his bare chest and arms. Sarah reached down to scoop a handful of ice from the bottom. A lustful groan of pleasure escaped from her lips. She stood and held the ice tightly in her fist. Within moments though, water began dripping through her clenched fingers.
Daniel watched as the droplets fell to the floor. One or two fell onto her foot, then raced along her flawless skin before dispersing between her toes.
Something stirred within Daniel’s groin. He became instantly conscious of his semi-nakedness and, with a cough of embarrassment, he turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To get some rest,” he called over his shoulder.
“Wait,” she called, and followed after him. Then, without warning, she caught a glimpse of his back, and her breath stuck in her throat. The angry sores had joined together in a weave of branches. It wasn’t the sores that surprised her, however, but the unexpected familiarity of the condition.
“Wait ...!” she called again.
The urgency in her voice forced Daniel to stop. “What is it?” he asked.
Her mind tried to quickly work out what had been revealed. Did he know about the sores? Probably not, considering he was walking around topless. Plus, although she could not feel the chill, just the extremes of both fire and ice, she knew humans were susceptible to hot and cold. The guy before her was undergoing a change: a change in body, mind and soul.
“Wait.”
Daniel huffed in slight irritation. “What is it?”
“The Major,” she said. “How’s he holding up?”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “He’s fine. Why?”
“It must have come as a great shock to find out his daughter is still alive.”
“I guess,” he agreed.
“Maybe I should see how he is? To reassure him Hannah is okay.”
He stepped closer to her. “We don’t know she’s okay, not for sure.”
“But she’s the one who helped me to escape from the breeding cells,” Sarah reminded him. The woman’s eyes had twitched slightly, unable to hold Daniel’s gaze.
“That was weeks ago. Anything could have happened,” he told her.
“Yeah, and that’s why we should be making plans to get her out.”
“I’m sure Major Patterson is making plans. He’ll let us know when he’s good and ready.”
“But I could help him with the internal layout of the camp she’s being held in,” Sarah insisted.
“The Major needs his rest. It can wait till tomorrow,” Daniel advised.
His dismissive attitude appeared to anger her. “Don’t you even care?”
“Of course I do, but not everything can be done immediately,” Danie
l said. “The Major’s waited this long to find her and he won’t risk her safety with some half-assed plan.”
“Christ, it’s no wonder you people...” She caught herself, before her words had done too much damage.
Still, Daniel understood some of their intended meaning. “Go on.”
“It’s nothing,” she said. She waited to see if he pushed the matter or not.
He did not.
Without further comment, he began to walk out of the canteen area. She followed him, drawing up silently behind. She got another glimpse of the red collage that decorated his back. She stopped. Wait. Yes, the condition was unmistakable. She had seen it many times before. And this surprising development could work in her favour. She backed off and allowed Daniel to disappear into one of the dark passageways.
She would be seeing him again, and soon.
Very soon.
Chapter Eighteen
In a reversal of fortunes, the vampire now occupied the cell. However, like earlier, he too was not enduring his incarceration alone. Sitting cross-legged, the vampire leaned over and bit a large chunk from his cellmate’s thigh. Mercifully, the prisoner did not feel a thing. Already growing cold the dead wolf suffered its fate in silence. The vampire took another bite as blood splattered across his ugly face.
“That’s disgusting,” Lieutenant Hutson said.
“It could be worse. You could be in there with him,” Alice commented.
“I guess,” Hutson agreed.
Both turned from the vampire and moved away from the bars to join the rest of the group over by the windows. All but Squirrel were standing around the open windows, watching for the return of the dark horde. The mechanic seemed distracted as he attempted to clean himself and Scratch. It was a battle lost. Both were covered in layers of dried blood and gore, and nothing short of a monsoon was going to get either of them clean.
