Ancient Awakening (The Ancient)

by Matthew Bryan Laube

  *****

  Ted was long gone, wounded by the look of it. Mike considered following his neighbor but he was unsure of whether he could be trusted to put him out of his misery. Besides, to separate from the group at this point would be suicide. He had learned something from years of watching horror movies as a kid. He glanced up at Miller as the wounded man approached. “Thanks. It almost had me there,”

  Miller waved a dismissive hand at him. “Think nothing of it, lad.”

  Mike picked up his gun and quickly walked over to Bill. “Bill, you ok?” Bill had not stopped screaming. “Bill, it’s ok. It’s dead now.”

  “Is Mr. Tirhsred hurt?” Miller asked.

  “Aaagh!” was Bill’s response.

  Ann was beside Bill, trying to calm him down. “Sshh, it’s ok Bill, you’re going to be ok.” She squeezed his hand to reassure him.

  “I think he’s just in shock.” Mike gave him a gentle slap. “Pull it together.”

  After a few moments, Bill managed to move from screaming to manic panting. Mike got up and started looking around for the dropped light. He found it just as it made a loud crunch under his foot.

  “Shit!”

  “What?” It was Ann’s voice.

  “Flashlight’s broken.” He picked up the crushed flashlight and tried to switch it on and off for a few seconds.

  “Help me get Bill into the light,” Ann said.

  “Yeah, okay.” Miller took the lead while Ann and Mike dragged the still-panting Bill behind them. The next door was close by and easy to make out by the weak sunlight that peeked out from under it. Sliding Bill near to the wall, Mike took position next to Miller, ready to back him up. As before, Miller slammed the door open and charged in. A new voice screamed from inside.

  “Please don’t hurt me!” It was a woman’s voice. Mike charged into the room to see Miller covering a middle-aged, red-haired woman with his shotgun.

  “It’s okay, we’re the good guys,” Mike said. He walked out of the room and helped Ann drag in Bill.

  “Cynthia?” Ann asked.

  “Little Ann?” the woman responded. The two women hugged, tears visible on both of their faces.

  “I was so worried that you didn’t make it,” Ann said, still hugging the older woman.

  “Ann.” It was Miller, his voice low and menacing. “Please step away from her!”

  “Miller? What’s wrong?” Ann said, not letting her friend go.

  “She’s cursed.”

  “What?” Cynthia asked. “Wait, aren’t you the guy from 269? Didn’t you die?”

  “Aye, technically. Many, many times over, but I always get better,” Miller said, and pulled at Ann’s arm, still training the shotgun on Cynthia.

  “No, no, no, she’s fine. Look at her, she’s right here, no crazy black eyes, no claws!” Ann was sobbing.

  “Miller, are you sure? How can you tell?” Mike cut in. Was Miller insane? She looked fine to him.

  “Why isn’t she all furry like the rest of ‘em?”

  “Ann, think about it. The one person we find happens to be a friend of yours? She is a trap.”

  “Listen boy, I think you’re still confused from that truck hitting you,” Cynthia said. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Miller pumped the shotgun and drove it into Cynthia’s face. He pulled hard on Ann, finally tearing them apart.

  “NO!” Ann shouted. Cynthia fell back with a whimper. She brought her hands up to protect her face.

  “Miller, stop!” Mike raised his shotgun.

  “Stay calm!” Miller raised his voice. It held that tone of command again. “I’m not going to shoot her. Not yet anyway.” Mike relaxed a bit, but still kept his gun trained on Miller.

  “Miller, please. If it was a trap, why isn’t she changing now?”

  “I am not sure, but I can see the curse on her as plain as day.”

  Ann looked hard at her friend, tears streaming down her face. “No, it’s just Cynthia. I’m telling you, she’s human.”

  “And I say she is not.”

  “Ann, don’t listen to him. You know he’s crazy, we joked about that,” Cynthia pleaded.

  Bill moaned from the ground in the corner. Mike lowered his gun, and approached Miller’s side. “Miller, I know you think you can tell, but she looks perfectly normal to us.”

  “Trust me, Mr. Samson, something is very wrong here.” To reinforce his intentions he poked Cynthia with the barrel of the shotgun, producing another whimper.

  “Miller, stand down, man! I can't let you go threatening innocent people,” Mike shouted, stepping closer to Miller.

  “Listen to Mike. She's my friend!” Ann pleaded.

  “You do not understand,” Miller shouted. “Just because she looks human now does not mean that she is.” He lowered the gun and gave Mike a shove. “Stay back!”

  Mike was knocked a few steps back. Miller had lost it and was going to shoot the woman. He needed to stop him.

  “That's it, you lunatic!” Mike rushed forward and slapped the shotgun up out of Miller's hand, then drove his shoe into the man's cast. Miller howled out in pain and stumbled back. The shotgun rattled to the floor. Mike threw his arms around Miller, attempting to pin him down.

  “You idiot!” Miller yelled, “You have no idea what you are doing.” They rolled on the floor for a moment, both struggling to gain the advantage. Mike was surprised by how hard it was to pin the wounded man. Every grip he tried, Miller countered instantly.

  “Samson! Do not make me hurt you!”

  Somewhere in the back of Mike's mind, he registered an odd slurping noise. Ann was screaming. Instantly, both men stopped their fighting and looked up.

  “Cynthia, NO!” Ann cried.

  Cynthia stood over Bill with her mouth open unnaturally wide. A long, black tentacle-like tongue hung out of it. It had wrapped itself around Bill's neck and appeared to be sucking. For a moment everyone stared. Noticing the attention, Cynthia looked back up at them, seemingly ashamed. The tongue-like thing disappeared back into her mouth.

  “I'm sorry, were you going to eat that?” she said.

  Mike and Miller exchanged a brief glance. Mike rolled one way, Miller rolled the other, both reaching for their guns. They brought them up almost simultaneously and fired. The distance was not quite as close as Mike would have liked with a shotgun, but both shots hit Cynthia, sending her sprawling. Her chest exploded in a black mist. She let out a scream, rolled on the floor, and then was back on her feet, taking off in a run down the hallway.

  “No, not Cynthia, please...” Ann choked as she wept. She slid down to her knees, and laid her head against the wall, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Mike bent over Bill. The security guard was definitely dead, his flesh a dull white. His face looked sunken and his neck was crushed and covered with small cuts. Mike cursed and turned to Miller.

  “I take it that’s what a real vampire looks like,” he said. Miller nodded. “Did you know?”

  Miller looked grim. “Not exactly, no. I could see the curse but couldn't tell the kind. She might have been a wolf that just had not changed. Or she could have been something new. Demons can be pretty creative.”

  “And it’s still out there...”

  “Aye. Vampires are much harder to kill and far more intelligent than any wolf.”

  Mike looked back down at Bill's body. “I’m so sorry, man. This was my fault.” He looked back up at Miller. “I should have trusted you. It’s just so...”

  “Say no more.” Miller gave him a hand, helping him to his feet. “You thought you were doing the right thing. I know this is hard to accept. To your credit, it was a brave thing you did.” Miller winced a bit. “Just please don't kick me like that again.”

  Mike couldn’t help but thinking that maybe Miller actually was what he said
he was. “What should we do with him?” Mike asked, pointing back down at Bill.

  “We cannot do anything for him, although I am a bit worried about her.” He pointed to Ann, who was still leaning against the wall, crying.

  Mike walked over to her. “Ann?” He almost asked if she was okay. She obviously wasn’t. “Is there anything I can do?” Ann just shook her head.

  “How are you for ammunition?” Miller asked. Mike rooted through his pockets, finding four more shells. He tossed two to Miller and loaded the others into his own gun. Only four more shots. Things were looking grim.

  “Miss Ann, we have to go.” Miller’s voice was low and respectful. He put a hand on Ann's shoulder. She shrugged it off and wouldn’t look at him. “I am sorry about your friend. I know how terrible it is to lose someone you care about like that.”

  “Really?” Mike asked.

  “Oh yes, I’ve lost a wife and two sons to the Cursed. Well, more in the past thousand years, if I think about it.”

  Mike shook his head. Just when he started to think the guy was sane, he went and said something like that. “Ann, he’s right, we need to get out of here.” She ignored him. “We need to find Keith.”

  She snapped her head up at that and looked at him hard. “I don't know...” she sniffed. “I don't know if I want to find him. He could be…could be,” she pointed down the hall, “one of those!”

  “I know, but we need to try, don't we?” Mike followed his instinct and put his arms around her in a hug. She didn’t resist, and instead dug her face into his shoulder and wept. Mike scooped her up with one arm.

  “I'll carry her for now.”

  “Aye,” Miller nodded. “I think it best if we keep moving.”

  They headed back out into the dark hallway. Without Bill's flashlight, it was slow going. Dim light came in through the doors on the right, but at times the hall was close to pitch-black.

  After walking for a few minutes, Ann began to struggle in his arms. “It’s okay Mike, I can walk now. Thanks.” She gave him a light kiss on the cheek as he put her down. She swayed a bit at first, but gradually became steady. “You’re right. I still need to find Keith, one way or the other.”

  “Here,” Miller said, “Take this.” He gave Ann the small pistol that Bill had been carrying. “If you have to use it, aim for the head. It won't do more than slow them down, but maybe it will buy you some time.”

  “Thank you,” Ann said, stuffing the gun into one of her front pockets.

  Together, the three of them made their way through the darkened halls. They checked two more rooms. Both were empty. Mike enjoyed the brief sunlight both times. In the hallways the darkness was suffocating, as if the air was too thick. The rooms were better, although still a bit dim. He could see the sun clearly through a window in a cafeteria. It was fairly low in the sky, meaning that it was still before noon. So much had happened in such a short period of time. It took his breath away.

  In the empty cafeteria, while he was briefly enjoying the sunlight, he heard the first gunshots.

  “What’s that?” Ann asked.

  “Small arms fire,” Mike responded, trying to sound professional. “Maybe it’s the police, finally.”

  “Aye, I bet they are going to need help as well. Let’s see if we can find them,” Miller put in.

  They all headed back into the dark, Miller in his normal spot in the lead. This time, they did not stop to check the doors they passed. Instead, they rushed toward the sounds of fighting, almost at a run.

  “I think we’re getting closer to the main entrance,” breathed Ann, “although it’s hard to tell in this light.”

  Miller slid to a stop and put up a hand. “Hold!” Mike and Ann obeyed, nearly tripping over each other.

  “What’s wrong?” Ann asked. Miller stared ahead into the darkness. Mike followed his look.

  “It's darker here,” Miller observed. “Something feels off.”

  “It looks about the same to me,” Mike offered.

  “No,” Miller spoke slowly. “Definitely...” He trailed off, raising the axe in one hand like a shield in front of them. Mike focused hard on the area in front of them.

  “I don't see...” No, he could see. Little black pools reflecting the faint light from behind them. There were too many to count. They were eyes!

  “Mike, Ann, run!” Miller shouted.

  They were wolves, so many wolves. They seemed to pack the hallway, waiting in the dark, not making a sound.

  “Oh my God,” he mouthed.

  “Go!” Miller yelled, “Now!”

  Mike grabbed Ann's hand and they turned and ran. He made sure to keep his body between her and the pack. Ann, for her part, was zigzagging, taking a right, then a left, with only the pale light from underneath the doors showing her the way. Mike split his focus between her feet and their pursuers. After a few moments, he shouted, “Wait!” and they skidded to a halt.

  “Where the hell is Miller?” Mike looked around.

  “Maybe he couldn't keep up, with his leg?”

  “No, I don't think he was planning on coming.”

  Suddenly, something smashed into Mike, knocking him to the floor. The shotgun dropped out of his hand with the force of the blow. A large gray wolf had him pinned, its claws digging into his sides.

  “Mike!” Ann screamed.

  Mike managed to get his elbow under the beast’s chin, keeping the sharp fangs away from this throat, but he had no defense against the claws. He felt blades dig into his flesh for the second time that day. Then Ann was there, gun in hand.

  “I can't get a clear shot!”

  “Just shoot!” he shouted back, “Shoot!”

  “Oh, the hell with this!” Ann took a running step forward and kicked the wolf in the head, as if punting a football. Its head jerked hard with the blow, stunning it. One second was all Mike needed to kick the beast off of him. With a neat roll, he snagged the shotgun from the floor and aimed it. The wolf was already pouncing again, but too slowly. Mike pulled the trigger just as the wolf was at the height of its jump, hitting it dead in the face. Its head reversed direction, spinning its body around, but its momentum was too great, and its legs still caught Mike in the chest. They fell in a heap.

  “Mike! Are you okay?” Ann was there, trying to move the wolf's body off of him.

  “Ugh...yeah, I think so, just a few more cuts. God, those things hurt.” With her help he slid free from under the body. His shirt was torn to pieces, but then it hadn’t been in great shape to begin with. His new cuts were not as bad as he had first thought. They stung but certainly didn't look fatal. He noticed that the wolf’s body was still wearing most of a uniform. Apparently it had been another security guard.

  “Help me check this one out. He may have more ammo on him.” Ann helped search the body while Mike tore off a large swath of its shirt, which he tied around his chest as a makeshift bandage. Ann grinned at him.

  “That’s a nice look for you. It’s almost a toga.”

  “Yeah, well, if this keeps up much longer I'm going to be running around here in my birthday suit.”

  “Hah, I bet it’s not a bad view.”

  Mike flushed at that.

  “Ah, there you are!” It was Cynthia. The woman was covered in dark blood, her clothes torn to ribbons.

  “Ann, get behind me!” Mike pushed Ann behind him, and raised his gun. Cynthia stepped forward and in one fluid motion, struck Mike in the temple with her right hand. It was the hardest Mike had ever been hit in his life. Black spots blossomed in his vision as he was lifted off his feet and tossed into the air. He hit a wall hard and crumpled into a ball.

  “Mike, no!” Ann screamed.

  “Come on Little Ann, there's someone who really wants to see you.” Mike heard Ann's gun go off as he struggled to fight the blackness. “Enough!” There was a
sound like a slap, and then the gun hit the floor. The last thing Mike could make out as he fell unconscious was Cynthia dragging Ann away by her hair.

  Chapter 14 - Extreme Violence

  Ladies and Gentlemen – Saliva – Blood-Stained Love Story