Something of the Night (21 page)

“Shit,” Jacob said, once the
noise had died.

Ben looked back sheepishly.
“All we can do is hope.”

Chapter
Thirty-Four

The agony in Daniel’s stomach swelled with malicious
intensity. For a second, he thought the pain would actually burst from his gut,
like a ravenous parasite, and devour him from the outside in. He wrapped his
arms around himself and moaned in agony. Beside him, in the next chair, slept
Major Patterson.

Since the disappearance of
Father and the startling news that Rebecca had shared about the newcomer Sarah,
Daniel, Patterson, Lieutenant Farr and the young girl had taken refuge within
the old computer room, secure in the knowledge that only they knew the key
codes to gain entry. The Major had issued the command that no one should leave
their quarters alone and must travel in groups of at least two, if possible
three, staying vigilant at all times. Of course, he had kept the infiltration
of the vampire and Father’s loss a secret, telling people instead that a
scouting party had been sighted, Ezekiel and his brethren were very close, and
that everyone must remain at a higher state of alert. Patterson had also placed
soldiers in every key location, in the hope of containing the two until his
search party had flushed them out. Only a handful of trusted men had been told
the truth, and they were now busy hunting for Father and the woman.

At first, Daniel had led the
search party, but when he fell seriously ill, the Major had ordered him to
rest. Even after a full night’s break the agony that raged through his body had
only gotten worse.

Now, he was barely able to
stand.

He thought about calling for
Doctor Miller, but for some inexplicable reason Daniel felt he should keep the
severity of his illness to himself. Now, though, unable to hide the agony any
longer, he pulled himself up from the chair. The computers that formed all four
walls swelled in towards him. He fell back into the chair. The room tilted
momentarily before settling. The short bout of delirium passed. He had to get
out of here.

He climbed to his feet again
and waited to see if the walls would rush in to get him. They didn’t. Gingerly,
he made his way towards the door. Farr and Patterson stirred. He froze and
waited until they’d settled. Both returned quickly to a troubled sleep. A
couple of unsteady strides and he was at the door. Daniel looked at the numbers
on the keypad. They swam out of focus and became a jumbled mess. He squinted
before rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The numbers returned to
their correct order. He punched in the right sequence. A sharp buzz sounded and
the door clicked open. He staggered through to find himself in the tight
corridor.

An unexpected voice spoke.
“Are you alright, sir?”

Daniel’s head snapped up.
Before him, his face a mask of concern, stood an armed guard.

“I’m fine,” Daniel croaked.

“You sure?” the guard asked.
“You don’t look too good.”

“What are you, a critic?”
Daniel snapped back.

The guard looked stunned.

“Concentrate on the job at
hand,” Daniel said. “And not on how good or not I look.”

“Yes sir,” the guard said,
anxiously.

Daniel pushed past and worked
his way to the end of the short tunnel. Another door with a keypad blocked his
progress. He reached out and instinctively punched in the four-digit code. Two
more guards parted as the door opened. They saw Daniel and sidestepped to allow
him passage. Each offered him a stiff salute, even though he held no official
rank. His hand flopped weakly to his brow as he returned the gesture.

Leaving the guards behind,
Daniel worked his way deeper into the catacombs and eventually found himself in
the lower, uninhabited tunnels and passageways that only his uncle felt
comfortable in. Like a faulty automaton, he staggered from one enclave to the
next. All were empty and lifeless – only shadows and darkness prevailed at this
level. A constant trickle of water sounded, making the area seem even more
dismal.

He came to a stop outside
Jacob Cain’s quarters. I’ve arrived, he thought, but arrived where and why? He
entered to find the room shrouded in darkness. He reached out instinctively to
flip the light switch. He paused. The room began to reveal itself. The hard
angles of the bed at the centre of the room appeared, along with the distinctive
shapes of the table and chair that were situated at either side of the bed.

Daniel frowned and the room
became even clearer. His hand flopped back to his side; no need for the light.
He entered and his nostrils flared. A smell. Two smells, in fact. One dirty and
foul, but the other sent a shiver of pleasure running through his body from
head to toe. It was then he sensed this smell had been the thing that had drawn
him here.

“I thought you’d never come,”
said a voice from somewhere inside the room.

Daniel searched from one
corner to the next.

A humourless giggle came from
the shadows. “Don’t worry, it won’t be long before all your senses become
perfectly attuned.” From the small washroom, Sarah appeared. The dizzying smell
of desire increased, drawing Daniel to her like a fly to decay. He staggered
towards her and, as he drew close, he raised both hands and allowed her to
gather him in a tight embrace.

“What’s happening to me?” he
asked.

She smoothed the wild tangle
of his hair. “Don’t fight it.” He pulled himself closer, grabbing her tightly.
“The pain,” he moaned. She whispered soothing comforts into his ear. He almost
collapsed, but her strong embrace kept him on his feet. She half carried, half
led him into the small washroom. Inside, Father lay unconscious on the floor. A
pool of blood had leaked out from around his skull, and it had dried into a
crust of gore. His chest swelled and a struggling breath wheezed from his
throat.

Sarah pushed the young man
against the sink, keeping herself between Daniel and the unconscious holy man.
One of the taps had bent to the side awkwardly and it had a mixture of blood
and brain matter smeared over it. She turned it on. Cold water began to clear
away the speckles of blood. She cupped a handful of water and splashed it over
Daniel’s face. He jolted back, the freezing liquid forcing the return of his
senses. “What… what are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s time,” she told him.

“Time for what?”

“For your rebirth.”

He almost laughed. This
couldn’t be. Then his fevered mind played out a confusion of images: a vampire
above him and a river of blood running into the back of his throat. The
vampire’s mouth open and a silent curse that fell from the hollow cavity.
Thomas. The attack from the silver-haired vampire had infected him.
NOOO!

Daniel tried to push her
away, but she held him firm. “It’ll be easier if you don’t fight it,” she said.
He shook his head in defiance. “No, this can’t be.” He tried to push her again
and succeeded in forcing her back. It was then he noticed the holy man lay
bloodied and broken at his feet. “Father… ” he gasped. “Dear God, what have you
done?”

“I’ve prepared you a
present,” she told him.

“What?” he asked sickened.

“I’ve prepared him for you,”
she replied.

Daniel looked shocked. “He’s
hurt. We’ve got to get help.”

Sarah laughed. “He’s more
than hurt.”

“What are you?” Daniel asked.

Sarah drew closer. “I’ll be
whatever you want me to be,” she whispered. She leaned in and opened her mouth,
closing it around Daniel’s. He tried to pull away, but her hand slipped to the
back of his head. Her lips pressed hard against his. It was a weak and
short-lived defence, though. As much as he was repulsed, he was equally
aroused. The woman was beautiful, possibly the most beautiful he had ever seen.

She pulled away, leaving him
wanting more. He tried to pull her back into his arms but she held him off.
“For now, I must be your teacher,” she said.

“Teach me what?”

“How to survive.”

Daniel laughed, but it was a
sound devoid of mirth or humour. “I’m dying,” he said, and tears of agony
rolled down his cheeks.

Sarah reached out and took
his hand. She placed it over the swell of her breast. “Does my heart not beat
like yours?”

Underneath her vest, he felt
the
thud
,
thud
of her heart. “But your blood runs cold.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “But I
still feel passion, hunger, greed and lust.” She placed her hand against his
and squeezed hard.

“Emotions to be proud of,”
Daniel said, trying to focus away from his swelling lust.

A genuine cackle of amusement
escaped her engorged lips. “Daniel, what other feelings are there? Love. Joy.
Hope?
”

He opened his mouth to tell
her, but his stomach twisted with pain. The only desire he felt now was one of
hunger. Not hunger for food, but a desperate yearning for freedom. Freedom from
the agony that burnt within his gut.

“I can make it go away,” she
said, understanding his pain.

“How?” he gasped, desperate
to be liberated from the agony.

“You must feed it,” she said.

“No – never!” he spat.

“Then you will die.”

“Fuck you,” Daniel responded.

She pulled him down towards
Father. “You must feed soon or die.”

“Then let me die,” he said
defiantly.

“Brave words,” she remarked.
“But unfortunately for you, that’s not an option. I need you alive, not dead.”

She pushed his head lower and
a coppery stench wafted over him. He gagged, instinct dictating his reaction.
However, after a second of discomfort, the smell turned rich and inviting. He
breathed deeply and the pain in his gut wavered slightly.

“That’s it. Good,” Sarah
said.

Daniel looked at the open
wound in the man’s skull. He saw what lay inside and revulsion pushed him back.
“I can’t do it,” he moaned. Something glinted at the corner of his eye. Sarah
reached out to grab a handful of matted hair. She twisted Father’s head to one
side and then drew the razor-sharp blade across his throat. A thick jet of
blood leaked out.

“Hurry,” Sarah told him.

“No… ”

“Yes,” she said, and pushed
his head closer.

The last thread of humanity
threatened to snap. Daniel tried in vain to fight against the urge to drink,
but the agony inside his body brushed aside the resistance with ease, and
instead, it ordered him closer - closer to an eternity of lust; the lust for
human blood. His resolve broke like a hammer striking a glass barrier. And his
need revelled in its freedom. His body took over and forced his mouth around
the open wound. With all humanity lost, he remained there and drank until his
belly had filled and the agony had finally been vanquished.

Chapter
Thirty-Five

The railings of the observation deck whistled noisily.
The wind had picked up within the last few minutes, making it all the more
difficult for both Jacob and Ben to complete their task. They were in the
process of striping down the searchlight and its cables, and had thus far
managed to save most of the control-gear required for them to operate The Ray
of Hope.

“Guys, we’ve got a problem.”

Jacob turned to find Hutson
there. The colour in her face had bled away.

“What is it?” he asked.

“We’ve got company,” she
explained.

“Where?” Ben asked, looking
urgently around for the Browning machinegun.

“This way,” Hutson replied,
and led them back the stairwell. All three grouped inside. The lieutenant
raised a finger to her lips. “Listen.”

They stood huddled together.
The wind outside whistled through the gaps between the railings like the shrill
of an anguished ghost. Jacob reached out and pulled the door closed.
Immediately, they heard the distant thud of footsteps. Ben leaned over and
peered downwards into the dark stairwell.

“There’s something down
there,” he remarked.

Jacob tilted his head to one
side. “It doesn’t sound like our friend,” he said, referring to the beast.

“I think the vampires have
gotten organised,” Hutson commented. “They’ve taken their time, perhaps waiting
until we’d tired or gotten careless.”

“Or perhaps they think we’ve
taken care of the beast that’s been keeping them at bay?” Jacob said.

“Maybe,” Ben agreed.

“There’s one thing for sure,”
Jacob concluded. “We’re not gonna be alone for much longer. How long before we
can move The Ray of Hope?”

“She’s good to go, almost,”
Ben stated.

“What’s left?” he enquired.

“A couple of cables, that’s
all.”

“Okay, you get back to it.
I’ll see if I can get rid of our unwanted guests,” Jacob said.

“How?” Hutson asked, concern
clearly written across her face. They’d come too far to split up now and risk
injury or worse.

“I don’t know yet,” he
admitted. “But I’ll think of something.” He took a few slow steps downward.

Jacob slipped the assault
rifle off his shoulder. He clicked the flashlight underneath the barrel onto low
beam and then took a few tentative steps into darkness. Alone in the dark –
again, he thought, worried about what could be lurking behind as well as what
drew close from the front. He traced the scope up and down the stairwell.
Nothing. The beast remained elusive, for now. He descended towards the ensuing
horde. And only once he’d begun to hear their distinctive chatter did he
understand what needed to be done.

***

Ben’s hand slipped for a third time. The last cable
was being downright stubborn. The plug appeared to have welded itself onto the
generator. He tried again and the only thing he achieved was removing a layer
of skin from the palm of his hand. In a rage of temper he kicked out at the
thing. With an unexpected
crack,
the plug dropped away from the
generator and hung loosely at its side.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ben
said, triumphantly.

“Everything okay?” Hutson
asked.

“It is now,” he replied.

Ben pulled the cable towards
him. A few rotten cable-wraps popped apart. He took a few minutes to wrap the cable
into a tight loop. “That’s it, the lot,” he said, looking at the mess of cables
piled on top of each other. The wind blew heavily against his face, whipping
his hair about his head. He looked outwards, across the dark panorama, towards
where he thought Tate would be. With only one leg to fly with, her skill would
now need to be absolute. He turned back towards the doorway and the threat of
ensuing vampires, and realised their escape lay in a different direction. He
reached into his flight-jacket and withdrew a flare.

“Okay, time to give the
signal,” he said reluctantly, worried about the strong winds and the
unpredictable fury they held.

Hutson looked anxiously over
to the platform doorway. Where the hell was Jacob? “Okay, you give the signal.
I’ll see what’s keeping Jacob.” She headed around the observation deck.

Ben moved over to the
railings. Without pause, he smashed one end of the flare against the wall. Red
flames exploded from the opposite end. A thick crimson cloud drifted upwards.
Which turned the low clouds above into a froth of blood.

Minutes passed and then Ben
heard the chatter of rotors over the shriek of the wind. He looked out into the
night and saw an even darker silhouette draw near. He waved his hand eagerly
from left to right. The flare spat red smoke out in a large crimson blanket.
“Over here!” he called, although the occupants inside would never hear.
Nevertheless, as if somehow they had, the Huey tipped to the right and homed in
on his position.

As the Huey approached, Ben
caught a glimpse of sleek blackness from Tate’s helmet. He imagined the
expression on the face underneath as a mixture of annoyance and relief, and he
offered her a wave, both in the hope of relieving her tension and as a gesture
of peace. A fist waved back in his direction and he grumbled with despair. She
was going kill him for taking so long

“Jacob’s still nowhere to be
seen,” Hutson said, now back at his side.

Ben stepped down from the
railings and returned to the searchlight. “Give him time,” he said. He started
to drag the light and gyroscope into the centre of the platform. The wheels of
the gyroscope squealed in objection as it rolled forwards. Together they
delivered the heavy combination over to the railings.

“Here should just about do
it,” he said.

The helicopter rotors beat
out a tattoo, and Ben and the lieutenant felt the strong push of wind against
their backs. They stooped instinctively and shuffled back, waiting until the
crate had swung into view. It appeared above their heads like a cage awaiting
its prize. Ben stepped closer and communicated to the cockpit with a series of
complicated hand gestures. The crate swung slightly to the left before slipping
in one graceful motion to the platform. A deafening boom sounded as the heavy
wooden box landed on the iron flooring. Ben rushed forwards and quickly
unhooked the cantilever from the crate. He slipped the hook free and stepped
back. Then, he waved them away from the tower. Black Bird swooped right,
quickly disappearing around the other side of the building.

“Help me with this,” he said,
once the clatter of rotors had died. She joined him and together they lowered
the front of the crate to the floor. Ben returned to the searchlight and began
to push it over.

“You get the cables,” he
instructed her.

“Right,” she responded, and
headed for the pile of coiled wires. She heaved one onto her shoulder and
returned to Ben’s side.

“Inside,” he said, with a
gesture of his woolly chin.

She climbed in and dropped
the cable at the rear.

“Four more to go,” Ben told
her as she stepped out. He found himself on the receiving end of a vicious
scowl. “Hey, I’m the one who tore his hands to pieces getting them,” he moaned
defensively. Hutson stormed off, unwittingly developing Ben’s amazing ability
to manipulate the English language into nothing but a tirade of curses and
expletives.

***

With a fire-extinguisher in each hand, Jacob fought to
keep his balance as he descended the last few steps. Clamped between his teeth,
the torchlight bounced and flickered and made phantom shadows dance all around
him. He dropped one of the canisters onto the step and then quickly took the
other to the landing below. He returned, heaved the large canister up and over
his shoulder and then tottered back to the landing. The extinguisher fell against
the wall next to three others. It had taken him precious minutes to find the
right kind of fire repellent. Most were of the water dispensing type. Just a
few had been the powder ones that Jacob required.

His small collection now
consisted of four canisters, each having the potential to become a makeshift
explosive. He clipped the flashlight onto the rifle barrel. Took a couple of
minutes arranging the canisters until he was confident they were all in an
adequate line. One or two of the dials indicated low pressure, but they would
have to do. Putting distance between him and the canisters, he climbed four
levels higher. He took a deep breath, clicked off the flashlight and waited.

Nothing happened for a few
minutes.

Then, through the scope, he
saw a dark outline take shape. A second appeared and then a third. Before long
the entire landing was a mass of dark bodies.

Jacob pulled the trigger. The
gunshot sounded like a clap of thunder in such a tightly confined space. A
bright line of gunfire cut a pathway four storeys below. In the next instant,
the scope turned white as the extinguishers erupted in a blinding flash. All
four canisters disintegrated in a shower of deadly shrapnel. Any vampires
standing nearby were instantly reduced to nothing more than a frightful memory.

Jacob climbed to his feet. He
looked down to find charred bodies strewn about the steps and landings below.
Some of the vampires had managed to claw their way higher. Their flight had
been halted once the flames had turned their flesh into tight, constricting
carapaces. He stuck his head back through the doorway, took a deep breath of
clean air and then began to climb the stairs towards the observation deck. As
he neared the 86
^th
floor, the sickly, pungent smell began to weaken
and only a light haze of smoke lingered.

He reached out to push the
door open. A sudden sound came from above. His hand paused an inch away from
the door. Something moved above him, just on the outskirts of his peripheral
vision. Now would not be a good time to lead the beast or anything else towards
his comrades. The Ray of Hope needed to be saved, or all else would fail. He
checked the assault rifle. Black soot marked the stock, but otherwise it looked
okay. He chambered a round and continued his ascent towards the unknown.

***

The last cable turned out to be the heaviest. Hutson’s
back ached and her arms were about ready to give up. Her biceps had contracted
into two solid knots. She wrestled with the thick cable for a moment, finally
balancing it upright, and then staggered in the direction of the crate, rolling
the coiled loom over to Ben.

Unexpectedly, the platform
rocked sideways and Hutson fell to her knees. She desperately hung on to the
cable, unwilling to lose it, and so finished up with it on top of her. Sprawled
on her front, she found that the cable had pinned her legs painfully to the
metal walkway.

“Ben,” she called.

The wind stole her voice.

“
BEN
!”

Hutson tried to kick one of
her legs free. But it was trapped underneath the heavy copper wire. She reached
behind her and pushed at the cable. It weighed a ton. As she struggled, the
platform seemed to vibrate through her body as something pounded against it.

“What the hell?” Hutson
muttered to herself.

Two more shockwaves pulsated
along the observation deck. She sensed that they had originated from behind.
She twisted around as best she could and peered into the darkness. Another
tremor – and this time it confirmed the direction. Something was moving in the
shadows, and the platform shuddered under its might.

Suddenly, the disturbance
revealed itself.

***

Jacob kicked open the door, rolled into the room and
found it…

Empty.

For a second, he found
himself torn between relief and disappointment. He’d followed a trail of bones
to the room, expecting the monster to be in there, but had found only an empty
office space. A single desk with no chair or personal items occupied the centre
of the room. He turned around and withdrew. Twisting the head of the
flashlight, he adjusted the beam of light to a wider arc. The shadows retreated
slightly and the corridor stretched out like an endless tunnel. So far, he’d
failed to find a room with a single window - this level was as tight as a drum.

He scratched at his head.
Which way now? He’d checked nearly all the rooms, left and right, and still
nothing. He felt as if the architect had lapsed into some kind of temporary
narcosis and had simply forgotten to include the windows. Instead he’d created
a labyrinth of tightly enclosed boxes and corridors with no discernable
approach. For this reason, Jacob had assumed it would have made a good nest.

He moved to the last door and
used the muzzle of the assault rifle to push it open by a crack. The second the
door opened he was hit by a putrid surge of decay. He took a deep breath before
stepping inside.