Something of the Night (9 page)

Chapter
Fifteen

The vampire shifted. His facial muscles began to
twitch, signalling a resurgence of awareness. The skin around the right side of
his face began to tremble, as if a platoon of angry ticks were marching beneath
his pallid flesh. As the army of ticks reached his brain – returning him to
duty - he opened his eyes and then bolted off the chair. The shotgun fell out
of his arms and clattered noisily at his feet. He shook his head, blinked, and
appeared to find his senses. After a colossal yawn, his attention turned to his
two captives. He grinned. His canines reflected two weak slivers of yellow
lamplight. He bent down to retrieve the weapon. He stood then and shuffled over
to the prison cell. His comical grin became sly. Unlike before, however, this
smirk contained a new element of danger.

“It’s time,” he said, his
face inches from the bars. The shotgun levelled at the mechanic’s chest.

“What?” Squirrel asked in a
nervous croak.

“You, get up,” the vampire
ordered.

“No … wait,” Squirrel said.

“Don’t hurt him,”
Alice
pleaded,
clutching at one of Squirrel’s arms.

“Up! Up!” the vampire
insisted, lifting the barrel higher with each command.

As if hypnotized by the dark,
mesmerising barrel, the mechanic stood and took a few faltering step towards
the iron door.

Alice
pulled on his arm. “Squirrel – no. Please don’t go.”

The mechanic stopped. He
turned towards his friend. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” He breathed in deeply,
gathered his strength, and then finished the short journey to the front of the
cell. His injured leg felt stiff but otherwise fine. No pain, just an intense
and irritating itch. Drawing nearer to his captor, he could smell the rank
odour of decay. The vampire smiled, and Squirrel got a face full of rancid
breath.

“What are you gonna do?”
Alice
asked.

“Too close!” the vampire
admonished. “Back! Back!”

“Okay,”
Alice
said.
She returned to the rear of the cell.

“Dangerous,” the vampire
growled, with an added scowl.

“Let’s get this over with,”
Squirrel said, surprised by his bravery.

The vampire unhooked the set
of keys from his waistband. His hand shook with excitement, and he barely
managed to feed the key into the lock. The mechanism popped open with a screech
of rusty parts. He stepped back, allowing the door swing open.

“Out.”

Squirrel followed the
vampire’s directions and stepped out. Then, showing surprising speed, the
vampire sprang forwards. In a blur of flesh and iron he relocked the cell,
trapping
Alice
within. “Good – safe,” he said, pleased. He turned to
Squirrel and gestured towards one of the front windows.

Squirrel frowned. “I don’t
understand.”

“Go. Go,” ordered the
vampire.

Squirrel gave the demented
ghoul a shake of his head. He followed its instructions and moved over to one
of the windows. The vampire took position directly behind him.

“Hand outside, now,” the
vampire instructed.

“What?”

“Hand, hand.”

“I don’t understand,”
Squirrel repeated.

The barrel of the shotgun
jammed itself into the mechanic’s side. The vampire had presented his
explanation. “Hand through window,” he ordered.

For a second Squirrel became
confused, then suddenly, he understood. “You want me to put my hand through the
window, outside?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“No fucking way!”

“Yes. Yes,” the vampire
repeated.

Squirrel felt the shotgun rub
painfully against one of his ribs. “Alright, whatever you say,” he said.
Slowly, and with caution, he allowed his hand to pass between the bars. He felt
the cold air outside snap at his exposed fingers. He almost jerked his hand
back, but the weapon at his side persuaded him not to.

“Now wait,” the vampire said.

Squirrel turned his attention
outside. He peered into the darkness and watched for any movements. After a few
moments of calm, he felt the pressure from the gun lessen. Through his
peripheral vision he saw the vampire take position at the next window. He
turned to his demented captor, but an angry thrust of the shotgun returned his
attention to the darkness beyond.

“Careful. Watch.”

For a few minutes nothing
happened. Then a deeper black cut through the darkness. It headed towards the
front of the jailhouse. Another silhouette appeared to the right of the first,
and within seconds the street was a churning mass of loping shapes.

Squirrel faltered slightly
and he started to pull his arm back.

“Girl will die,” the vampire
whispered venomously.

His fingers halted, half
inside the window, half out.

“No hand,” the vampire
cautioned, “no girl.”

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Squirrel
spat, thrusting his hand back through the bars.

A muscular shape broke away
from the main pack. Powerful shoulder muscles bunched together as the wolf
began to climb the steps. It reached the last step. There, its nostrils flared
as the beast sniffed at the air. It released a guttural growl. The wind carried
with it something of interest: flesh and blood.

Squirrel watched on in terror
as the beast’s jaws opened to reveal a nightmare collection of sharp teeth. The
wolf moved a couple of feet closer, and then froze.

The wolf maintained its
position, its head tilted up slightly. A cacophony of angry howls began from
behind, which eventually forced the animal to continue. The beast’s head
dropped low. It continued towards the jailhouse with cautious intent.

Squirrel saw two blood-red
eyes stare towards him. His heart pounded with ferocity. He swallowed, and the
saliva stuck at the back of his throat.

The beast moved ever closer.
It came within about six feet of the meaty reward. The dizzying aroma of hot
flesh drove it on, now possessed by hunger. Then the beast lunged forwards
aggressively. Its jaws opened impossibly wide.

Squirrel screamed and forced
his eyes shut. He felt the hot, rancid breath burn at his skin. He had a split
second to visualise fangs tearing his hand away. But the bite never came. He
heard a deafening boom and, as his eyes sprang open, he saw a cloud of blood
explode before him. The beast twitched and thrashed below the window. A huge
hole had appeared in its flank to reveal ripped tissue, bones and steaming
organs. He had a second to remain stunned before another dark shape appeared
from the left, its jaws wide.

“Inside! Inside!” the vampire
warned.

“What ...?” Squirrel gawped.

“Hand. Inside.”

Squirrel pulled his arm back
through the window. Outside, directly where his hand had just been, jaws came
together with an audible
snap!

Stepping over to Squirrel’s
window, the vampire jammed the shotgun outwards and pulled on the trigger. A
painful howl sounded from beyond. He turned to Squirrel then and said, “All
clear.”

Next, and to the mechanic’s
total amazement, he handed the shotgun over.

Squirrel stared at the weapon
dumfounded. “What …?”

“All clear,” the vampire
repeated.

Squirrel regained his senses.
He spun the weapon around in his hands and pointed it directly at the fiend’s
chest. “Hands up!” he ordered.

The vampire looked at the
mechanic as if he was the stupidest person he had ever met. “
ALL
CLEAR,” he
repeated, again, as clearly as his engorged lips would allow him. A blank face
stared back at him. He shook his head in slight amusement. “Wolf outside,” he
said. “Yum, yum.”

“What? You’re kidding,
right?” Squirrel asked.

The vampire shook his head
vigorously. “Food ...”

Finally understanding what
the crazy bag-of-bones was getting at, Squirrel asked, “You want me to go and
get the dead wolf. To eat?”

“Yes, yes.”

“No, no,” Squirrel mocked,
and jammed the weapon under the vampire’s large nose. He let his finger tighten
around the trigger. Two defiant orbs stared back at him. “Let her out,”
Squirrel said, his eyes flicking over to
Alice
.

The mechanic heard the heavy
jangle of iron. “Give me the keys,” he ordered. He jabbed harder with the
shotgun. “Keys.”

The vampire raised the bunch
of keys upward. But he didn’t hand them over. He flicked his wrist and, to
Squirrel’s horror, they sailed passed his eyes, out through the window and into
the darkness beyond.

“What have you done?” Squirrel
demanded.

“Bye-bye.”

“Are you insane? Wait - don’t
answer that.” Squirrel returned to the window. About twenty feet away,
teetering on the edge of the top step, were the bunch of keys. “Shit!” he
snapped.

“No keys,” the vampire said,
“no escape.”

The mechanic spun on his
heels, ready to send the vampire on to the next place. He had a barrel of hot
lead to help him on his way. However, the vampire looked on with nothing but
bemusement. Deciding he would deal with the vampire once he had
Alice
out,
Squirrel stepped over to the main entrance. He took a breath, pulled open the
door and then stepped outside. The door slammed shut behind him. A metallic
scrape signalled a deadbolt slide home.

“Be careful,”
Alice
called
to him.

Followed by, “No wolf - no
back inside!”

He took a cautious step away
from the jailhouse. The town had gone quiet. He could see the vague outlines of
empty buildings, and the streets were deserted apart from a few rusty husks.
These forgotten vehicles had been abandoned almost a million years ago - or so
it seemed.

Immediately to Squirrel’s
left lay the slain beast. Even though the wind blew in the opposite direction,
the mechanic could still smell its rank odour, and something even more
repulsive: the stench of blood and guts.

He understood it would be
only be a matter of minutes before the smell became too intoxicating for the
hidden horde. Quickly, he crossed the open ground and reached the top of the
steps. He dropped to one knee, his eyes fixed ahead. He reached out and took
the bunch of keys. Holding them to his chest, he climbed quickly to his feet.
He heard a deep rumble come from the right. “Oh … Shit,” he breathed.

Shapes bounded past each
other, as more and more wolves took position around the mechanic. Squirrel
jammed the keys into his pocket. He aimed the shotgun towards the bloodthirsty
pack. One was about to spring. He pulled the trigger and sent it flying
backwards, scattering its brethren. More movement came from behind. He
chambered another shell, spun around, and sent another beast into perpetual
darkness. Momentarily scared by the gunshot, the fearsome creatures
disappeared. They dissolved into the night like shadows painted onto a dark
canvas.

Now, he turned his attention
to the next task at hand - the fallen wolf. He spun full circle and found two
bloodied and torn carcasses. He stood spoilt for choice for a second. Realising
it would be easier to manoeuvre the wolf underneath the window; he crossed the
short distance and dropped to his knees. He slung the weapon over his shoulder,
forced his hands under the beast’s body, and tried to lift it. The wolf was as
heavy as a diesel engine, and only slightly more pliable. At first he struggled
to get his hands between the bloodied torso and the hard ground underneath.
With his back arched he attempted to heave the beast up.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” he snapped.
The thing refused to budge. He sucked in a huge lungful of air, then readied
himself and tried again. This time the wolf was downright stubborn. It didn’t
move an inch!

“Shit! Fuckin’ piece of
shit!” he cursed.

His back ached with pain and
effort. He collapsed onto the beast and lay there, breathless, like a spent
lover. He remained trapped by the beast’s affection until he’d caught his
breath, and then readied himself for a third time. This time, he concentrated
his efforts on lifting just one end of the wolf. He heaved with all his might
and managed to raise the rear half of the body. One knee quickly positioned
itself underneath to stop the body from flopping back to the ground. With
difficulty, he placed the beast’s back paws so they draped loosely over his
shoulder, then he heaved the balance of its weight up, and then, with a
tremendous effort, he pushed himself up. Using the wall as leverage he climbed
to his feet. He turned away from the wall with the wolf balanced precariously.

Suddenly, he found himself
faced with a silent audience.

Chapter
Sixteen

The party of four crossed an invisible border, leaving
the deserted highway behind them. They travelled in silence, working their way
deeper into the town. As they marched through the dark streets, they scanned
the empty shells on either side, looking for anything that might direct them to
their lost friends. With no sign of either Squirrel or
Alice
, the
party eventually found themselves at a crossroads.

“Which way?” Captain
Banantyne asked, bringing the group to a halt.

Jacob Cain stopped. He looked
from one street to the next. “This way,” he said, then moved away from the
junction and headed further into town.

They reached the end of an
empty street, ready to turn into the next. Taking the lead, Jacob led them past
soulless structures, burnt out hulks of twisted metal, and the dried-out
cadavers of things that had once dreamed.

Elliot said, “The town’s too
quiet. Something’s wrong here.”

“You sense it too?” the old
tracker asked.

“Yeah,” Elliot replied. “I’d
expect it to be quiet, but not lifeless. I haven’t seen a single living thing,
not even a goddamn rat.”

“This town’s been picked
clean.”

“By what?”

Jacob brought them to an abrupt
halt. He didn’t speak or signal, simply stopping in his tracks. Elliot
instantly recognised the act as a warning. He stopped in mid-stride and dropped
to one knee. The rifle slipped from his shoulder. “What is it?” he asked in a
whisper.

Jacob dropped at his side and
then gestured towards two empty buildings. “Over there,” he said.

Elliot saw only a slice of
darkness, caught between the two buildings. “I don’t see a thing.”

“Wait,” Jacob said. The
shadows shifted slightly. “There, did you see it?”

Elliot’s trained eye spotted
movement from within the darkness. He waited a moment and was rewarded with
another brief movement. Captain Banantyne and Lieutenant Kate Hutson drew up
from the rear.

“What’s going on here?”
Captain Banantyne asked, his voice echoing noisily.

“Quiet!” the older tracker
warned in a hiss.

“Why have we stopped?”
Banantyne asked.

Ignoring Banantyne’s
question, Jacob turned to Elliot. “Wait here. I’m gonna check it out.”

“Check what out?” the captain
queried.

Jacob moved away from the small
group and headed towards the darkness. Stepping onto the sidewalk, he passed an
abandoned vehicle. He had a second to think about how well the vehicle had been
maintained before the intimidating emptiness drew his attention. He stepped
onto the lawn. The turf under his feet was hard and brittle. He crossed this
forgotten sward, looking about him, examining the broken windows. He focused on
the open doorway.

Even in the poor light, he
could see the remnants of some family’s forgotten belongings. An assortment of
damaged items lay scattered about in the hallway. An old chair with only three
legs was propped up against a wall. Broken ornaments lay scattered on the
floor, providing a sharp carpet of porcelain. But it was one item in particular
that stopped him in his tracks. Hanging from the wall, directly at the
entrance, was a photograph in a crooked picture-frame. Although he could not
make out the photo’s finer details, he could just about see that it was of
three people, all smiling into camera. The person in the centre had the
suggestion of long hair, and Jacob guessed that she was the mother of the
household. Flanking her on either side were two smaller faces, each possessing
a head of short hair: two young boys; twins maybe.

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 was 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.