Something of the Night (32 page)

In the next second another
clap of thunder sounded and the world around them turned suddenly dark.

***

A bright, blinding explosion pulled Ezekiel’s
attention towards the hillside. A truck, part of the humans’ convoy,
disappeared in a billow of black smoke, leaving behind a twisted heap of molten
metal. Ezekiel had time to see a huge cannon kick back in recoil. A second
explosion sounded and the truck at the front of the convoy disappeared in a
shower of fire and debris.

“Tanks!” Ezekiel heard
someone cry. “They have tanks!”

He returned his gaze to the
base of the hill. Out of the darkness, something huge and menacing revealed
itself. Massive metal tracks tore up the earth as it lurched away from the
trees and climbed towards the hill. The snap of timber found its way to him and
he watched as more tanks punched their way through the woodlands, laying clear
a path behind them. Three, four, five, six, they appeared out of the dark
forest like giant armoured-plated beetles, spitting fire and destruction. A
whole division of M1 Abrams broke clear, followed by more armoured jeeps,
trucks, cars and motorbikes. Next came Raphael’s foot soldiers. Not just a
platoon of them, but thousands. They appeared from behind the vehicles like a
swarm of army ants. A soldier directly to Ezekiel’s left fired a shot towards
the advancing army.

“Cease fire!” Ezekiel yelled.

Too late.

More of his men were taking
aim and firing at the enemy. Weapons discharged from one side to the next.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Ezekiel called, but the thunder of gunpowder silenced
his orders. He heard a shrill of air as artillery cut through the darkness, and
the noise grew until it had become the deafening wail of a banshee. The
resultant explosion disintegrated one of the trailers before him. Ezekiel took
cover, shrapnel passing over his head in a shower of red-hot metal. He heard
the screams of his men as they were cut to pieces. More shells split the night,
and flesh and bone, as a barrage of deadly missiles rained down all around
them.

Ezekiel climbed to his knees.
He peered anxiously through the binoculars and found a solid wall of iron
moving towards him. The division of tanks had turned away from the hill and was
now heading towards his position. The eyepieces filled with the flash of fire.
A second later, a truck behind him disappeared in a ball of orange flame. A
liquid wave of fire turned the soldiers close by into charred caricatures of
things that had once been vampires. As the army advanced, Ezekiel understood
that with every inch lost, the chance of an alliance diminished.

Raphael and his hateful
brethren had destroyed any possibility of peace and now they threatened to
wreck his army’s chance of survival. Hatred built inside him and he roared with
demented rage. He felt an instinctive hunger for bloodshed, and all he’d done
to distance himself from the illicit cravings disappeared in a millisecond. The
lust for pain and suffering whispered urgent commands. He nodded his head.
Reason had all but abandoned him.

“RETURN
FIRE
!”
he yelled.
“
FIRE
!
FIRE
!”

Thousands of bullets turned
the darkness into a sea of red tracer-fire, and Ezekiel revelled in the agony
they delivered. He gripped onto the machinegun. A wave of enemy broke from the
cover of the tanks and raced towards him. He cut them down with ease, and then
laughed hysterically as they were torn limb from limb. Out of the corner of his
eye he saw some of the remaining prisoners fall as they were caught in the
open. They fell to the ground, horrific wounds and injuries turning them into
blood-soaked rags.

Sympathy pulled Ezekiel’s
fingers away from the trigger. He turned to look at the broken bodies and wept
with sadness at the lost opportunity they represented. But then the wind
carried to him the stench of guts – a crimson cloud of desire. His body swooned
with the urge for bloodshed, and his face twisted itself into a dreadful mask
of glee. He turned back to the advancing army and grinned with devilish
delight. He pulled the firing-bolt back and took aim. They came and he was
ready. Any thread of humanity that remained snapped. And the leader of the
vampires allowed the lust for blood to consume his very being.

Chapter
Forty-Nine

Slipping
and
sliding, Rebecca tumbled head-over-heels into a pool of stagnant water. She
disappeared underneath the surface for a second before her head exploded
upwards into darkness. She gasped for breath and her lungs filled with a sour
breath. Water poured noisily from behind her. In the confined space of the chamber
it sounded like the distant rush of thunder. For a couple of seconds she trod
water, waiting for her heart to steady. Although the darkness prevailed, she
sensed more water enter the chamber, by a pipe higher than the one she had
passed through.

The sound of rushing water
was interrupted by the clatter of something solid. Instinctively, Rebecca
turned towards the noise. Light blinked in a strobe-like effect from the maw of
the pipe from which she had fallen. She gasped at its height. Almost ten feet above
her, brown water poured out in a heavy stream. The light flickered on and off.
Eventually the pulse stopped and in its place a bright white blaze of light
appeared. It fixed the chamber in a blinding glow before tipping over the edge
of the pipe and into water.
Plop.
The tainted liquid smothered the light
instantly. Looking down, Rebecca watched as the dull beam rose towards her. She
had a second to see she was swimming in the middle of a large bowl of lumpy brown
soup. Scratch appeared, a flashlight clamped between his teeth.

“Hey, boy,” she cried with
pleasure. She reached out to pluck the flashlight from his jaws. He paddled his
way over to her. Then ran his tongue across her cheek. He spluttered – she
didn’t taste too good.

Rebecca trained the light
over the walls of the chamber. She found herself in the centre of a large
junction. As the brown sludge lapped against the walls of the chamber, a
trickle of water ran out through an overflow pipe, keeping the level steady.
Rebecca swam to the side and examined the pipeline. It was about half the width
of the one she’d slid through and would be virtually impossible for her to fit
into. She levelled the light higher. Discovered a second pipe, this one was plenty
wide enough for her to pass through. She turned around and found the little
mutt struggling to stay afloat. Plucking him out of the water, she lifted him
into the lower pipe.

“Stay here,” she said.

Woof.

“I need to reach up to the
next pipe,” she said.

She placed the flashlight
next to him before reaching up with both hands to grip the higher rim. Her
fingertips sank into something soft and gooey, and she felt slightly relieved
at not being able to see what it was. She pulled herself upwards, testing her
strength. Two small biceps formed into tight knots. She pulled upwards and her
waistline cleared the surface of the water. Her left leg cleared the murky
surface and her toe found purchase inside the smaller pipeline, quickly
followed by her right foot.

She stood on her tiptoes and
peered into the dark maw. The stench of raw sewage almost forced her back.
Holding on by one hand, she reached down to retrieve the flashlight. She
pointed the beam towards the pipe and revealed a stream of green-brown sludge.
Rebecca angled the beam of light and found the opposite end of the slimy
tunnel. Mercifully, the pipeline ran for about twenty feet only before opening
out into another channel. She held her breath and pushed her head deeper
inside. The rush of water found its way to her. She jumped back down and landed
with a splash.

“Okay,” she began, “I’m gonna
have to lift you up to the next pipe.”

She reached out and plucked
him up. Then, carefully, she tucked him into her jacket, with only his furry
head visible. She handed the flashlight to him and he clamped it between his
teeth. “Okay, here we go,” she said and climbed upwards. Her fingers fixed onto
the opening and she climbed out of the water. She lifted them up, bringing both
their faces in line with the larger pipe. Scratch’s nose twitched with
discomfort. The stench was indescribably bad.

Rebecca held on tightly with
one hand and used her other hand to pull the mutt free. He stepped onto the top
of the sludge, slowly sinking deeper, until his paws were completely covered.
He turned in the opposite direction, and Rebecca heard the slurps of his steps
as he moved deeper inside. The resultant stench of his passing made her feel
somewhat light-headed. She gritted her teeth and leaned forwards. With both her
hands flattened against the upper, drier part of the pipe, she slid forwards,
first on her chest and then on her stomach. Her legs kicked about for a second
before the green slick helped her to slide further inside. The light ahead
bucked about as Scratch paddled towards the end of the pipeline. Rebecca’s
lungs burnt with the need of a clean breath. Thankfully, her ordeal ended
almost as soon as it had started. With a loud slurp, she slid out of the pipe
and fell the few feet into water.

The light revealed the
presence of a small metal ladder. A layer of slimy green algae covered the
lower rungs, and the upper portion was a rusted and flaky mass of corrosion.

Rebecca swam over to Scratch
and joined him at the foot of the small ladder. She took the flashlight and
traced the ladder upwards to a small narrow walkway. Like the ladder, the iron
platform was a green and rusty patchwork of mildew and decay. She followed the
platform around the chamber. It led to an access doorway. Quickly, she scooped
the dog up, tucking him into her jacket for a second time. Then she ascended
the short metal run and stepped onto the walkway. As her foot touched down on
the metal flooring, the entire platform groaned under her weight. She inched
her way along the circumference of the platform and eventually reached the
doorway unscathed. Scratch released a short bark of triumph as they crossed
over the dark threshold.

“We’re not there yet, boy,”
she warned.

The mutt twisted inside her
jacket and ran his tongue across her chin, ignoring the bitter taste that
followed.
Yap
!

“Where are we?” Rebecca
asked, finding herself inside a large cavern. Machinery, ladders and walkways
filled the open area in a mass of iron and metal. The machinery lay dormant – a
filtration system that had not cleaned water for years – and the ladders and
walkways looked about ready to come crashing down. Another platform ran around
the wall above, and from her position Rebecca could make out two exit points.

She walked around the large
filtration system and stood on the first step of the nearest staircase. The
metal step folded in on itself and red dust fell to the floor. The aging
staircase was a death trap, and only rust and an occasional splash of paint
appeared to hold the structure together.

“What do you think?” she
asked the dog.

Scratch whined miserably. An
aeon of neglect had reduced the entire arrangement to little more than a pile
of red dust. Rebecca avoided the first step, treading lightly on the next. It
held – just. It released a slight grating noise but somehow managed to keep its
shape. Slowly and with added caution, she climbed upwards. One or two of the
steps offered little or no support, forcing Rebecca to take larger steps, but,
after a few minutes of anxious climbing, they reached the main platform above.
Away from the mould and mildew, the platform seemed reasonably sturdy and safer
than the rest of the metalwork that led to it.

Rebecca pulled Scratch from
her jacket. She lowered him to the floor. His claws clicked against the floor
panels as he moved towards the nearest exit. Rebecca followed him to the first
door. It was a solid-looking mass of metal, formed from a single piece of iron
that looked strong enough to keep an army at bay. Hinges as large as Rebecca’s
fists held the door in place and a handle as thick as her arm worked the
locking mechanism. She pushed down on the handle with both hands. It didn’t
budge. She jumped up and held her entire weight off the floor with both her
arms locked out straight.

“Damn it,” she cursed and
dropped back down. Scratch wagged his tail in encouragement. “It won’t budge an
inch,” she groaned. The terrier moved away, his claws clicking eagerly as he
headed for the second exit. He stopped, then turned and barked for her to
follow. “We’re trapped,” Rebecca moaned as she joined him.

This door was every bit as
solid and impenetrable as the first. The only difference between the two was
that this one had a flywheel rather than a handle as the means of opening it.
With little hope, Rebecca placed her hands around the wheel and attempted to
turn it.

“There, I told you,” she
said, as the wheel remained fixed solid.

Yap
!

“It’s no use,” she bleated.

Yap
!

“Okay – okay,” she said.

She wrapped her small hands
around it again and pulled with all her strength. The wheel released a single
short squeal of protest. Scratch spun around after his tail in excitement.
Yap
!
Yap
!
Rebecca took a deep breath and readied herself. She
filled her lungs to capacity and then attacked the flywheel with everything she
had. A couple of painful squeaks and squeals followed, but eventually the wheel
gave and, with a sudden clockwise spin, the door cracked open. More red dust
fell from the hinges as they were forced to move for the first time in many
years.

Scratch poked his nose
through the slight gap. He sniffed and the air smelt wonderful compared to the
ghastly stench of the chamber below.

“Let me see,” Rebecca said.
Her face filled the crack and her cheeks turned ruddy from a breath of fresher
air. A slight draught blew across her face and her eyelashes fluttered in
response. She pushed the door further open and then stepped into the middle of
an empty passageway.

“Where are we, boy?” she
asked, confused.

The terrier trotted first one
way then the next. He seemed to pick up a scent and continued to head further
along. Abruptly, his tail dropped between his legs. The hair along his back
rose and a deep growl of warning rumbled out of his chest. Rebecca froze,
halfway towards him.

“What is it?” she whispered.

WOOF! WOOF!

The sound made Rebecca jump.
She stood rigid, fear holding her firm. Something began to shuffle around the
passageway. Its boots scrapped noisily against the rock, and they sounded
uncoordinated and heavy. A figure appeared before them. The harsh lights above
turned its face ghost-white and sunken. For a second, Rebecca was unsure as to
who it was. But then, gradually, the craggy old face revealed itself.

Doctor Miller.

Or, more precisely, what had
once been Doctor Miller.