Something of the Night (11 page)

Jacob nodded in agreement.

Elliot stared open-mouthed.

Cautiously, the wolf backed
away until it too was swallowed by the shadows. The last thing Jacob saw was
its intense red eyes. They had stayed fixed to his.

The small group found
themselves suddenly alone.

“What the hell just
happened?” Elliot asked.

Jacob opened his mouth but words
escaped him. He peered into the shadows, half expecting the wolves to return.
They did not. Instead, the town remained trapped in an eerie silence. Even the
strange wind had died, leaving behind just a hint of a whisper. The silence was
eventually broken when one of the doors to the Buick popped open. Alice and
Lieutenant Hutson climbed out. They joined the two trackers.

“Are you two okay?” Hutson
asked.

“We’re fine,” Jacob reassured
her.

“Let’s keep moving. They may
be back,” she warned.

Jacob turned to her. He
almost said he didn’t think so, but the strange voices would remain a secret –
for now.

“You’re right, let’s go,” he
said.

Elliot shouldered his rifle.
He looked at
Alice
and his concern for her was obvious. “Stick by me,”
he told her. She nodded, grateful for his protection.

Jacob moved to the rear of
the Buick. He peered inside. Thrusting his hand in, he pulled the vampire from
the back seat.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

The vampire grinned
foolishly, enjoying all the pulling and pushing. His sharp teeth glinted
despite the darkness around them. Jacob reached up and carefully slipped the
gag back over the fiend’s mouth. He dipped his head inside the vehicle, and
asked Squirrel, “Are you coming or what?”

Squirrel pulled his attention
away from the steering column. “Wait, I might …” The Buick abruptly rumbled to
life. A thick cloud of black smoke coughed noisily from the tailpipe.
Furthermore, as the mechanic stepped on the gas, the vehicle lurched forwards
is if freed from a premature slumber.

“Alright!” Squirrel said, and
clapped his hands together. The vehicle died instantly. “Shit!” he snapped. He
leaned forwards and took hold of two wires: one red – one blue. He tapped the
bare cables together and a little shower of sparks burst to life. The Buick roared
again. He twisted the two wires together and the engine continued to tick over.

“Get in,” he said, his face
beaming.

Alice
appeared at the open passenger side. “There won’t be
enough gas to get us ten feet.”

“I’m not sure,” Squirrel
disagreed. “Look.” He tapped on the fuel gauge. The needle had just about moved
from the edge of hopelessness to the point of empty. They both held their
breath as the needle continued to pass through the red and towards the first
white dash.

“Go! Go!” Squirrel chanted, as
the little needle hit the first dash.

“I’ll be dammed. How the hell
did we miss this?”
Alice
said, perplexed by the presence of untapped gasoline
– no matter how minor.

“I thought you’d bled this
town dry?” the mechanic remarked.

Alice
shrugged her shoulders. “Are you complaining?”

“Hell, no,” Squirrel said,
revving the engine. He turned back to the dashboard, and his heart soared when
he realised there would be just enough fuel to get them back to the
underground.

Jacob looked to Elliot.
“Okay, get the captain and let’s get out of here.”

Elliot didn’t get chance to
move before Squirrel moaned, “Oh … Jeez ...”

“What is it?” Jacob asked.

The mechanic peered over the
steering wheel. He pointed to the hood of the Buick. There was no sign of the
injured captain. All that remained of Banantyne was a river of blood. The red
liquid ran down the curved metal to pool underneath the front fender.

“No… ” Jacob moaned. He felt
a wave of sickening dread crash over him. He stepped back and looked around the
immediate area.

Nothing.

Not even a red smear or scrap
of clothing.

It seemed the truce had had a
price.

Chapter
Nineteen

Her
mother
called out to her: a whisper of caution from a distant place no living being
could reach. The little girl stirred. She became confused by her surroundings
for a moment. The harsh rock around her revealed itself, and she remembered the
underground sanctuary she now found refuge in. For a few seconds, Rebecca
continued to hear her beloved mother, caressing her ear with the angelic sound of
her voice.

“Mamma...?” she whispered.
The harshness of her voice chased the remnants of the dream away. She lifted
her head from the soft pillow and found herself in the empty sleeping quarters.

Earlier, she had lost herself
in the tight bends and tunnels of the underground complex, finally stumbling
upon the room she was now hiding in. She’d entered to find the bed in the
centre of the room unmade. Climbing in, she’d pulled the cover up over her head
and dropped instantly to sleep.

Rebecca yawned. Still
exhausted from her recent ordeal, she closed her eyes and embraced the return
of sleep. Unexpectedly, she felt the hairs at her neck stand. She sat up
straight and the corridor outside released the sounds of scraping feet. Without
pause she scrambled underneath the bed, drawing her legs up in a foetal
position. Something dark entered the room. The warm air around her turned cold.
Terrified now, Rebecca clamped one hand over her mouth.

Booted feet stomped over to
the edge of the bed. They stopped - scuffed toes only inches from Rebecca’s
head. The thing above exhaled a wheezing rattle that sounded as if it had come
from diseased lungs. Next, the boots spun one-hundred-and-eighty degrees and
the mattress above sank towards her head, straining under the weight.

A slight whimper bled out
from between her clamped fingers. The rattle of breath above stopped instantly.
Long fingers curled themselves around the framework of the bed like fishing
hooks. The fingernails were dirty, and a line of something dark-red ran underneath
them.

Something brushed against
Rebecca’s flesh: coarse hair and sharp claws. Her chest swelled and a scream
tried to find an escape. Somehow, she managed to contain it, and the scream
eventually finished within the pit of her stomach.

A brown object shot abruptly
from under the bed. The rat raced away from the bed, its claws clicking noisily
on the hard rock. The rat scurried towards the exit. It never made it. The
thing on the bed jumped to its feet and, with a desperate lunge, it brought one
of its boots down. The rat released a single squeal of agony and then lay
still. A small pool of blood dispersed from around the heel of the boot.

Rebecca heard a grunt of
satisfaction. She saw a hand appear with a dark, woven cuff. The scuffed boot
rose and the grimy fingers wrapped themselves around the carcass. Both boots
shuffled back towards the bed. The mattress bowed dangerously low with a squeal
of tired springs. Rebecca made herself as small as possible.

Another hand appeared and
this one took a couple of minutes to untie the bootlaces. The grimy fingers
moved in a lethargic and mostly uncoordinated way. The boots were pulled off
and kicked away, landing in the small puddle of blood where the rat had met its
end.

A crunch followed - a ghastly
hollow sound. Liquid dripped onto the floor, mere inches away from Rebecca’s
face. Instantly, she smelled the coppery stench of blood. She squeezed her
eyelids tightly shut, sickened by the act above. Before she had time to flatten
her hands against her ears, she heard another ghastly
crunch,
as the
thing took a second bite out of the rat.

Then, thankfully, silence.

Rebecca opened her eyes and
found that the mattress had levelled out in a redistribution of weight. Snoring
loudly, the thing above slept. She pulled herself to the edge of the framework,
ready to crawl free and make good her escape. Yet, as she summoned her courage
for the dash to the exit, she caught a glimpse of the bloody puddle. In her
mind, she heard another sickening snap, but this one was her spine breaking in
two. Unsure if the snoring was real or just a ruse to get her out, she pushed
herself back under the bed. She took a few deep breaths and decided to wait it
out.

She spent the next few hours
this way, torn between the desperate urge to flee and the fear of being caught.
Exhausted now, Rebecca fell into a light but troubled sleep.

After what seemed like an
eternity, the snoring stopped and the sleeper crawled heavily off the bed.
Grey, calloused feet padded away, and then slipped themselves into the boots.
The thing released a single, deafening cough, muttered something
incomprehensible and then shuffled out of the room.

Rebecca spent a couple of
anxious minutes waiting, before she found the courage to crawl from under the
bed. She slid along on her belly, bringing her nose closer to the dried-up
puddle of blood. She stood and stretched her back. Her spine cracked like a
pistol shot as she worked the stiffness out.

She made her way towards the
exit. A sparkle of light caught the corner of her eye. She stopped. The thing
had pulsed in a kaleidoscope of colours. Stiff legs carried her to the object.
In the middle of an old dresser table sat a vial of water, which glittered like
a rainbow. She reached out to take it. The tiny amount of clear liquid sloshed
about inside and the rainbow of colours pulsed quickly from red to green. She
retreated out of the room before disappearing into the connecting passageway.

The vial had been tucked
safely away.

Chapter Twenty

The
heavy downpour obscured most of the surrounding
scenery. The Buick cut through the shower, its wipers sweeping left and right
in a desperate attempt to clear away the deluge. For the last hour Jacob Cain
and Lieutenant Hutson had been making their way northward, driving slowly,
heading towards the town of Glen Eagle, and then further towards the vampires’
encampment. So far, they had gone unnoticed. Once or twice, they saw the
flicker of fire, somewhere off to the side of the highway, but now the rain had
made everything around them invisible.

“Christ, it’s really coming
down,” Lieutenant Hutson said, peering through the windshield.

Jacob sat at her side,
carefully steering the Buick through the tunnel of darkness that had once been
Interstate 76. He checked the fuel gauge and grimaced; only fumes remained.

“We’re gonna have to find
shelter soon,” he said.

Hutson nodded. “Yeah, but
where?”

In the back, with its hands
bound and the gag still in place, sat the vampire. Occasionally, the fiend
tried to murmur in communication, but both Jacob and Hutson simply ignored it,
concentrating instead on the dangerous road ahead.

Earlier, they had dropped the
small group off at the entrance to the underground base. For a few seconds
Squirrel had stood confused, as Jacob took the wheel of the Buick.

“Let’s get her inside,” he’d
said.

Jacob had shaken his head.
“Sorry, Squirrel, but we
need the ride.”

“Jeez … Bad day,” Squirrel
had moaned.

This unexpected find had
presented Jacob with an idea. Not just the discovery of the Buick, either. But,
more importantly, the vampire found at the jailhouse. If the fiend could be
used to grant the small group credibility, then just maybe Jacob could find a
way to infiltrate the vampires’ inner circle and halt the advancing army before
it reached the underground. Once they’d liberated some of the mechanic’s
precious fuel, the small party of three had begun a journey towards the
unknown.

Now, the torrent that fell
forced Jacob to ease off the gas. He looked up and saw swollen clouds above.
Jacob glanced at the milometer. This could be their last mile. They needed to
find more fuel. Somewhere. Somehow.

He squinted through the
windshield at something blocking the road up ahead. He hit the Buick’s
full-beam and surprisingly, out of the dark, a huge metal object revealed itself.
In the next second he recognised the thing and stared openly in shocked
amazement.

“What the hell?” Hutson
breathed.

“No way …” Jacob mouthed.

The vampire in the back
mumbled incoherently.

Jacob lowered the headlights
and then brought the Buick to a slow stop. About twenty feet of rain-soaked
asphalt separated them from the object that blocked most of the highway.

“What do you think?” Hutson
asked.

He turned to her. “Not sure.
A trap, maybe?”

“Maybe …” Hutson agreed.

Directly before them, cutting
diagonally across the slick black tarmac, sat a massive tanker-truck.
Stencilled in large yellow lettering across the side of the tanker were the
words:
TEXACO
FUEL
. The truck
looked abandoned. The cabin door had been left wide open and the driver’s side
appeared to be unoccupied. The refuelling pipe had fallen away from the tanker
and a steady stream of clear fluid pumped out across the highway.

“This is too good to be
true,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Hutson agreed.

Jacob pulled a handgun from
his waistband. He released the magazine to find it full.

“You’re not going out, are
you?” Hutson asked.

“I’ve no choice. If that’s
what I think it is - then I’ve gotta go,” he replied. He slipped the magazine
back home and chambered a round. The muscles of his jaw twitched with tension.
“Stay here, watch my back.” Before his nerve failed him, he popped open the
door and stepped out into the driving rain. The icy sleet felt like slivers of
glass against his skin. He tucked his head down to protect his face and made
the short trip to the fuel-pipe.

He bent closer to the pipe
and took a deep breath. He could smell nothing but the electrical ozone of the
storm. He reached out to douse his fingertips in the flowing liquid. Then he
brought his fingers under his nose. He took a breath, and again, he smelt nothing.
What the hell? He tasted the liquid with a flick of his tongue.

Water?

Just rainwater …

“Oh, shit!” he snapped. He
jumped to his feet and looked back towards the Buick. “IT’S A TRAP!” he yelled.
He saw Hutson climb out of the vehicle and shout something back.

“WHAT?” Jacob called over the
torrent.

She yelled again and this
time pointed towards him. Jacob saw a flash of fire, and he felt a shot fire
over his head. A hollow boom sounded above him as the bullet ripped a hole in
the empty tanker. Jacob spun round in time to see a silhouette take shape above
him. The outline split, now offering two targets. He stepped back, took aim at
the shape to his left and pulled on the trigger. He saw the rain turn instantly
red. A figure dropped to the ground at his side. A mane of damp hair spread out
on the highway.

“Please … don’t kill me,” a
bleached face begged, its bloodied hand raised in submission.

“What the hell is this?”
Jacob questioned.

“It’s the end of the road,” a
voice at his ear spoke. He spun on his heels and found himself looking into a
bearded face.

“Night, night,” the bearded
guy said.

“Uh?” Jacob responded.

The guy ginned. He took a
step back and a large object appeared within his hands. A second later, the
rifle-stock connected with Jacob’s skull. He dropped instantly to the highway,
beside the woman, whose initial look of fear had now been replaced by one of
glee.

“Sweet dreams,” the guy said.

A shot rang out.

“
BEN
–
LOOK
OUT,” the
woman who’d been wounded warned.

The guy, Ben, turned to her
and snarled, “Where’s the shooter coming from?”

“There!” she said, pointing
into the rain. Fear had returned to her face, turning it into a bleached,
open-eyed mask of terror.

Ben spun around, bringing the
rifle up in an instinctive and defensive attack. The wooden stock sailed
through the torrent, missing Hutson’s shoulder by an inch. She skidded to a
halt and watched the butt pass over her shoulder. She jammed her pistol into
the side of Ben’s ample gut.

“Move and I’ll tear you a new
asshole,” she warned.

The rifle slipped from slick
fingers before it clattered out of his reach. He tilted its head towards Hutson
and said, “Okay, Lady, enough already.” Two brown eyes, sparkling with
intelligence, stared back at the lieutenant.

“I said enough,” the
bushy-bearded giant said. Matted hair covered the guy’s entire face and head,
leaving just enough flesh visible to acknowledge a flattened nose and two
pebble-like eyes.

“What the hell is this?”
Hutson asked, jamming her weapon against the guy’s head.

“Wait, we thought you were
one of the undead,” the woman replied nervously.

“Yeah, that’s right. This is
nothing but a misunderstanding,” Ben offered.

“Really?” Hutson said. “So if
your friend doesn’t climb down from there, then I may have to blow your brains
out, by accident.”

All turned towards the
tanker. “
Shee-yit
,” someone said. A body rose and a gaunt face broke
through the curtain of rainwater.

“Nick, climb down. We’ve got
guests,” Ben ordered.

“That’s right,
Nick
.
Get down, and
real
slow like,” Hutson cautioned.

“Okay, okay,” the guy above
them conceded. He opened his arms out, turning himself into a cross, to gain
balance, and then carefully made his way to the end of the tanker. As he trod
over the curved metal, the tanker released deep hollow booms, reiterating the
fact that the cargo was nothing but empty space.

“Jeez, Ben, you could’ve
picked a better day to play highwaymen,” the guy said. He climbed down. His
clothes had stuck to his bony frame, giving him the look of a drenched
scarecrow.

“Yeah, Ben, real smart,
getting us all wet like this,” the woman cursed.

“I didn’t hear you offering a
better idea,” Ben responded.

“Call this an idea?” Nick the
scarecrow chided.

“Yeah, look how it’s turned
out,” the woman began. “You’ve got me shot, and now we have a dead guy lying on
the highway.”

Hutson looked towards Jacob.
“I hope for your sake, sister, he ain’t dead.”

“The name’s Tate,” the woman
said.

“Well, Tate, you’d better
pray Ben here used a little restraint while he was playing baseball with my
friend’s head.”

“Barely tapped him,” Ben
said, although he didn’t sound too convincing.

Hutson stepped away from Ben.
Keeping the gun trained at the guy’s head, she felt at Jacob’s throat. A pulse
beat rhythmically at her fingertips. “He’s alive,” she said.

“Thank the Lord,” Tate said,
feigning concern. “A little help wouldn’t go amiss
here
.” She pointed to
her leg, drawing attention to the crimson puddle that had spread from the
wound.

Ben stood, with the intention
of helping his friend.

“Hold it there,” Hutson
warned.

He spread his hands, two huge
hairy shovels. “Easy, sister, we’re sorry about the mistake.” He sounded
genuine this time.

“Okay, help her,” Hutson
said. She took a step back, allowing the huge guy to pass. Once she had all
three in her sights, she retrieved the rifle, and then returned to Jacob. She
slid the firing-bolt back. Surprisingly, an empty chamber revealed itself.
“This thing’s not loaded ...?”

“No shit,” Nick said. “What
do you think this whole charade was about?”

Hutson frowned. “Fuel,
right?”

Nick laughed. “Sister, we’ve
got all the fuel we need. What we need is food and ammo.”

“You’ve got fuel?” Hutson
asked, shocked.

“Hell - yeah.”

“You’ve got …
fuel?
”
she repeated, open-mouthed.

“Yes, WE HAVE
FUEL
,” Nick
enunciated.

“Then you have to give us
some,” she told them.

“Why?” Ben asked.

“Because we need it.”

“For what?” Ben and Nick
asked in unison.

“That,” Hutson replied,
pointing towards the Buick.

The small group before her
began to laugh.

“What the hell’s so funny,”
she demanded.

“That!” Nick responded,
pointing to the stationary vehicle. “Our fuel wouldn’t get
that
to move
more than three feet!”

“Then what good is it?” she
asked miserably.

Ben and Nick looked at each
other. “I think we’d better show her, don’t you?” Ben said.

“Yeah, I think we’d better,”
Nick agreed.

“Show me what?”

Ben’s beard split to reveal
bright white teeth. “Black Bird.”