Twice Bitten, Twice Die

By Antony J. Stanton

How much would YOU risk to save humanity?

The unforgetable and unmissable climax to the best-selling post-apocalyptic thriller. "Twice Bitten, Twice Die" - when there's no one left to hear you scream...

Deaths amongst the survivors are occurring at an unsustainable rate. Numbers are rapidly dwindling. Morale is plummeting. Soon they will be beyond salvation, yet their real task has only just begun. But will anyone remain alive to complete it? Nothing could have prepared the soldiers for what lies ahead. If they thought life was brutal already, they had absolutely no idea...
The vampires are in disarray. Their relationships are becoming blurred, confused and violent. A titanic clash between soldiers and vampires seems imminent but no one’s survival is assured.
In a world where life is unpredictable, the threat from the infected suddenly becomes even more unexpected and menacing. Hostilities are inevitable. Only one thing is certain: there will be blood!

Is the enemy of my enemy my friend, or should I totally annihilate them both? Read the trilogy before the imminent TV adaptation. Prepare yourself for this year's most thrilling page-turner and remember - survival of the fittest is never guaranteed..!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Antony J. Stanton
• Release date: Oct 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370651481

Antony J. Stanton

This exciting new thrillogy comes to you from Antony J. Stanton, a brand new author who has redefined the post-apocalyptic action thriller genre, breathing fresh life into it and bringing a realism previously neglected. You may be new to this field of literature, but fear not, you will be infected! Stanton lives in London, UK. His full time job is as a commercial pilot. Hence much of the trilogy was written all around the world, generally at unsociable hours when jet-lag meant everyone else was asleep. Previously he worked for the British Royal Air Force which helped in the writing of military survival aspects of these books. He was kidnapped in Kazakhstan and shot at in Ghana, amongst other 'adventures', providing a dark well of experience to draw from. Life is, essentially, one big adventure. Stanton long had a fascination with the darker sides of literature, but also with literature that is rounded and well-written. The reader is, after all, no fool and should be treated with intellectual respect. Hopefully justice has been done to these principles and the results are these dystopian, gothic, military survival thrillers that will appeal equally to those who like vampires or zombies, but also to anyone who likes to be hooked by an exciting page-turning drama with realistic characterisation and an intriguing plot. At the moment the trilogy is being reviewed by a Hollywood producer who is very interested in making a film or TV series. The third book in this vampire / zombie thrillogy will be released in time for Halloween 2016. Contact Antony J. Stanton for more info; he would be delighted to answer any questions.

Book preview

The Players

Group Captain Tristan Denny. RAF. Station Commander Royal Air Force Headley Court

Captain Thomas Lewis. Army. Royal Artillery. 2nd in Command RAF Headley Court

Squadron Leader Anna Singleton. RAF. Station Medical Officer

Security

Sergeant Garrick Straddling. RAF Regiment

Sergeant Matteo Abbott. RAF Regiment

Sergeant Sinna. Army. Gurkha Regiment

Corporal Bannister. Army

Lance Corporal Dean Millington. Army

Private Giuseppe Campos. RAF Regiment

Private Sharp. Army

Private Rohith. Army. Gurkha Regiment

Supply / Logistics

Flight Lieutenant Andrew Walkden. RAF. Officer in Charge of Admin / Logistics / Engineering

Corporal Bamburac. RAF

Senior Aircraftman Richard Masters. RAF. Wife = Vida

Private Bruce Matthews. Army

Admin

Cpl Gillen. RAF

Leading Aircraftman Mayoh RAF

Leading Aircraftman Allen. RAF

Military Transport (MT)

Sergeant Harper Hutchison. Army

Lance Corporal Ward. Army

Private Darby. Army

Medical

Dr Handley. Civilian

Corporal Newman. Army

Corporal May Williams. RAF

Senior Aircraftman Freddie Samuels. RAF

Senior Aircraftman Dan Hobbs. RAF

Private Howes. Army

Private Hanson. Army

Catering

Sergeant Vallage. RAF

Corporal Bell. Army

Leading Aircraftman Neale. RAF

Leading Aircraftman Patrick Scovell. RAF

Patients

Sergeant Liam Wood. Army. 1 Para

Corporal Charlotte Collins. Army

Corporal Reggie Pethard. RAF. Wife = Emma

Corporal Kevin Berthon. Army

Corporal Elliot Gray. Army. Coldstream Guards

Corporal Pellegrini. Army. Coldstream Guards

Aero-Medical Students

Flight Lieutenant Jonny Parsons. RAF

Flying Officer Oliver Frost. RAF

The Vampires

Darius – Clan Leader

Max

Farzin

Flavia

Alec

Luca

Sebastian

Ricardo

Simeon

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Twice Bitten, Twice Die

‘To live without hope is to cease to live.’ - Dostoevsky

‘All hope abandon, ye who enter here!’ - Dante

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CHAPTER 1

Please…

The word was quickly followed by the unexpected relief of first blood, an experience like none other, either previously or since. There was an explosion in his body that shook his limbs and vibrated seemingly down to his very molecules. His back arched as his arms and legs locked, and his tongue cried out for more. With frustrating sloth, the blood was trickled into his mouth, a gradual drip-feed of desire and exultation. It was as though, with every extra drop, he was given a glimpse of the person who he was consuming, a share of their life-force and experiences, a link to a higher consciousness, and an ever-diminishing glimpse of the person that was being extinguished and left behind – his former self. In the swirling red haze that engulfed him the profundity of his awareness lurched as he gasped out for more.

Rather than satiating him however, it led to an unquenchable thirst; a desire that his carer must have already experienced, and one that he had spent his existence ever since denying and resisting; when able. But that stoic resolve only formed later, when lucidity and control had returned through the fog of confusion and half dreams that had surrounded him in those early moments.

Initially he had been a ravenous beast, following the command of the one who had turned him and then of the Clan Leader, and finally of the clan in general, until their collective will was gradually replaced by his own. Sebastian was never sure thereafter whether that word, ‘please’, had come from his own mouth, a plea, begging for sustenance and enlightenment, or whether it had been uttered by his carer, urging him to accept the offering, to partake of the change and unify with them. The word was released dryly into the room and remained unanswered. Unseen hands tilted his head back, forcing his mouth open and one drop was followed by another, slowly completing his transformation, as his veins and his body welcomed the new order, the new genus. His new destiny.

Over the subsequent hours or days or weeks, as the taste of blood grew familiar and coveted, he slowly came to his senses, only to find that those senses were now keener and more finely honed than ever before. The smell of salt on the wind was more stinging, the scent of ladies’ perfumes more enchanting. The sound of seagulls crying and bells clanging more acute and piercing, the drowsy gasp of a woman as his lips slowly parted on her neck in his clumsy early attempts, entirely enthralling. Colours became more alive, leaping out at him and filling him with awe and appreciation anew, just as guilt and regret faded and perished. Life started to acquire a more vibrant and hedonistic nature. Reasons for living were few and basic, yet they were all he needed, and heightened for that very simplicity. As he grew into consciousness he was gradually relinquished from the gentle hold of the one who had turned him, all so hazy and confused back then. Steadily he took control of his own actions and his own future, as much as any individual soul can.

He returned thereafter, only once, to the place of his first birth. Bordeaux had not changed in the year since his departure, yet his impression of it had. Drastically. People seemed more squalid than he remembered. Dirt adorned their skin and sweat lingered closely. They seemed frightened, he could read it in their eyes more plainly than ever before. Their bodies were wan and malnourished. Everyone dressed in tatty, dishevelled clothes and he felt himself a prince amongst them. Conversely the River Garonne seemed cleaner and flowed with an energy that had previously been lacking, as though it wasted its time there and urgently needed to join with the sea on the west coast of France. Trees were fuller and grander, their leaves shining and shimmering in the breeze. Even the weather was different, the wind crisper, the rain more refreshing.

Like the river, he did not dally; he sought out the one he had always intended to return for. His departure from Bordeaux had only ever been an interim measure, to gain wealth and experience, before returning to she who had captured his heart and held it hostage despite the intervening time, despite the separating distance, despite the fleeting, meaningless trysts. He found Emma Louise in the same grand house where he had last seen her. As he had ridden away on that last occasion she had stood at the balcony of an upper window, the wind catching her locks and her laces, watching after him until he disappeared from view. And even then she had stood staring at the horizon, over lands that her father owned, lands that prevented her from marrying one from a comparatively modest birth, such as he, as all men were.

Sebastian returned to the house under the protection of nightfall. He returned a conquering hero, to carry Emma Louise away with him. He returned too late. The house was quiet. Candles were lit but there was a hush upon it. It was easy to approach unobserved. He knew where her room was and assumed she would be within. He was not wrong. He scaled the wall effortlessly and stood a moment on the balcony, thinking back to his last sight of her. Would she be the same? Would she recognise him, changed as he now was? Worthy, as he now was. The room was quiet. The window was ajar. He eased through it and stood still for a heartbeat, not needing to adjust to the darkness as his eyes could see perfectly well; more he was trying to place the aroma. It came to him only later. The drapes around the bed were closed, shrouding the figure within. He could see her shape under the covers, the outline of her head, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing; too gentle, but he did not stop to think. And that scent…

He took a single step, a step that covered the entire distance and breached the passage of time. The drapes felt delicate and expensive as he drew them back, enjoying the heightened sensation on his fingertips. He knew he should feel excited and nervous, but rather it was anxiety that dominated. And that odour…

The hair was as he remembered, black and luxurious. It had always made him want to run his fingers through it, to become trapped and lost in it, a willing prisoner. The cheeks were pronounced and elegant, like a topographical chart, but more pronounced than he recalled. The eyes were closed and sunken, and only now could he place that smell. Suddenly, in a stupefying rush he recognised it. Death. Her eyes were sunken with the final throes of it. Asiatic Cholera. It had ravaged her body and she was not long for this world. He gasped and stumbled back as her eyelids flickered open. They fixed upon him and were as beautiful as he remembered, but more so. With his increased clarity he saw the wealth of greens that sparkled within. Like the leaves on the trees, there were as many different hues and tones as in a forest. The irises held yellows like gemstones. They possessed a brilliance even in death that moved him to his very core. They may have held beauty, but they held no recognition. Instead they held panic and confusion. Emma Louise opened her mouth and screamed.

His departure was less subtle than his arrival. He instantly knew he had made a mistake. He should not have come back. He had no place in her world amongst humans, nor in the life he had lived before, and she was too close to death for him to carry away. His was a new path now. He leapt to the balcony and was over in a moment. Before anyone had even reacted to her cry he had disappeared into the night. His final image of her was one of fear and loathing. He knew then that his heart, his soul and his destiny were bound forever, inextricably and unshakably to his own kind, to his new kind, but never again to humankind.

He made his way regretfully back to his clan. His grieving, coupled with vampyric inexperience, lent his movements an air of recklessness. He broke his journey just outside the village of Fontaine de Vaucluse in Provence, and spent the daylight hours sheltering in an abandoned watermill. He had not been as cautious as he should, however, and his presence had not gone unnoticed. Towards dusk a large group of frightened villagers approached the mill with the intent of driving out this unusual and disagreeable looking stranger. These were suspicious times. Sebastian was disturbed from his repose as they approached. His heavy heart perhaps compounded his foolishness, but he missed his opportunity to escape unhindered and was quickly surrounded. He reacted with an overt display of aggression, hoping to scare them away without the need to actually harm them. Spurred on by fear and such overwhelming numbers, one of the villagers made the fatal mistake of attacking. With rudimentary implements the rest immediately followed suit, hesitantly at first. He had initially tried to escape as the blows rained down upon him but the watermill was a solidly constructed stone building and there was no exit. He was trapped. Blood was drawn; his own blood. Even then he could have forced his way out, but the remorse from his doomed liaison with Emma Louise and the release of his own life force provoked an intense reaction.

As he split the neck and the first one fell, there was a collective scream from the villagers. For just a moment before fear truly claimed their minds, the sight of death caused their hesitancy to vanish. Their cries for revenge reached a crescendo and they intensified their attack. Sebastian did likewise as his already aggrieved heart reacted. The bloodlust descended over his inexperienced eyes, their life force started to haemorrhage and flow, and he whirled and danced amongst them. Even as they turned to flee he tasted their blood and demanded more. He became possessed by the irrepressible need for both their blood and their penitence. How dare they loathe him? How dare they attack him? How dare she reject him?

When it was over he stood amongst the corpses. Blood was upon his hands and its taste filled his mouth. His chest heaved with exertion and with the thrill of his actions, as he looked down at them all. Their clothes, while simple and grubby, were not dissimilar to those worn by the servants at the house of his love, people that he knew by name. Their lives and customs, their hopes and dreams were very likely to be almost exactly the same. As the thrill subsided he knew he had committed a grievous wrong and he knelt and wept. On that day his eyes were truly opened to his new kind and his naivety abandoned forever. It had left him with a deep-rooted need for atonement. It had given him his first proper experience of the life that now lay before him and he buried his feelings deep inside. The bloodlust came with its own irrepressible demons however, too strong to deny forever, irrespective of the strength and determination of one’s will.

He was never quite sure why he had been turned but he immediately sensed it was better never to ask. With his addition the clan now numbered seven, an unwieldy number which led to tensions over the many intervening years, but more so just lately. Nevertheless, Protocol and a deep-rooted sense of brotherhood bound them to each other, and they had remained in one another’s orbits ever since, sometimes close, sometimes distant, not necessarily spending every day or even every week together, but after each leave of absence they would gradually drift back together, regrouping and reaffirming, either through instinct or experience, or by prior arrangement. He intuited that some of the others, Darius in particular, had expected him to leave one day, breaking free of the clan’s gravity, never to return. Perhaps eventually he would have done so, but thus far he had always had reason to remain. And that reason had jet-black hair, striking blue eyes and a laugh that lit up a room like wild fire; sometimes warm and comforting, sometimes uncontrolled and exciting, and sometimes tinged with danger.

Sebastian had never been able to read Flavia’s intentions. On the odd occasions when Farzin was absent her demeanour sometimes became flirtatious and playful, but at others she was guarded and he could not help but view her with suspicion. He knew that she watched him closely and assumed that she did not trust him. Perhaps that doubt caused him to react in kind. It was all a game to her, but later he had started to wonder whether it might be something more. Perhaps, if he had been more certain, he might have made a move, struck out on his own in the hope that he would not, in fact, have been on his own. Their vampyric rituals provided for just such situations as that; he was not afraid to evoke such Protocol and would have done so, had there not been that lingering doubt. Besides, there had always been time before, so much time. Until now, when suddenly there was barely any time left…

Farzin halted his followers when a safe distance from RAF Headley Court with a quick flick of his slender hand. They stood behind him, a little breathless from the exertion and exhilaration of their slaughter on the base. Three humans killed and another abducted, a fruitful evening. They exchanged glances while he stood still, looking away from them into the night. Suddenly he reached his hands upwards towards the sky in exaltation and threw back his head with a demonic howl of delight. As he turned they could see his eyes were wide and staring, darting back and forth as though possessed, so energised was he after the bloodshed. His body trembled, his heart pounded and his thoughts were racing, tumbling like acrobats in the excitement of the moment. His chin was stained and speckled with blood although he was clearly oblivious to these minor details. He seemed unaware of his comrades for a moment, then his focus shifted onto them and he calmed a little.

And those pitiful humans call horse-riding the sport of kings? he mocked, his voice cold and disdainful. There was an erratic tremble to it that made him sound unhinged. How long has it been since we have tasted human? He did not wait for an answer and he seemed to have forgotten that Flavia, at least, had enjoyed the blood of Corporal Bannister only very recently. He continued with a smile. Too long; but it was good, always so good. And now we have our prize. He indicated the lifeless body of Vida that Simeon carried effortlessly over one shoulder. Now we shall drink whenever we please.

Alec nodded with a sly smirk. Flavia stood carefully on the fringe of the group. She noticed a tear in the thigh of Farzin’s trousers and a slight stain of blood.

My love, you have been shot. We should find you sustenance, you will need some energy.

For several seconds he all but ignored her, making her shift nervously in front of him. His behaviour of late had been increasingly inconsistent. Slowly he looked down at his leg as though becoming aware of it for the very first time and his expression changed. He did not seem concerned by the injury which had hardly impeded him, nor by the blood that had slowly trickled down. The shot had only skimmed his leg and the rapid healing trait of the vampires had already begun to take effect. The bleeding had stopped and a scab was already starting to slowly knit itself. A drink of Vida’s blood would surely help matters. However, he was now angered.

Yes, indeed I have been. And why did that happen, I ask?

None of them knew what he was implying and now both Alec and Luca became anxious also. Ricardo, standing next to Simeon, looked cautiously around the expressions of the other vampires, trying to read the situation. Farzin may not have been the biggest or the strongest of them, but he exuded an air of malice and menace, and his volatility made him dangerous. Only Simeon remained unmoved.

Well, Flavia started slowly, I assume the first man who charged in must have hit you when he fired.

Clearly. Clearly he was expecting us. He called out ‘vampires,’ so clearly he knew who we were. They were forewarned and prepared. So much for our element of surprise. Has someone been telling these pitiful humans a bit too much information? Has someone been getting a little too close to their human pet?

He stepped forwards towards Flavia with his eyes narrowing. He could be unpredictable at the best of times. Having feasted just now and with his bloodlust raised, but also having his pride injured, he was scaring her. As he advanced Alec took a step backwards, distancing himself from the vampiress.

I, I don’t know my love. I hardly told him anything about us. Obviously he knows we are vampires but I doubt very much that he would have told his colleagues.

Farzin slowly raised his hand. Each bony finger looked like the prong of a pitchfork, misleadingly delicate and unashamedly malicious. The sinews stood out and the blood on his long claws looked like tar in the pale light. Exactly how sure are you, my love? There was almost a sneer on the last two words as he brought his head close in to hers. His breath was on her lips as he spoke. His watery blue eyes fixed resolutely on hers.

I am certain of it, she faltered. He would not have wanted to admit to the others that he had come to see me.

There was a pause as the wind suddenly picked up and a cloud passed in front of the moon.

Perhaps it was Sebastian who said something, Ricardo said quietly from his position beside Simeon.

Flavia tried to hold Farzin’s stare but lowered her eyes as his face drew nearer. For a moment he said nothing but then his demeanour changed again. He smiled and the intimidation in his hand changed to affection. He gently stroked her cheek with one long, cruel finger.

Of course, that must be it. Sebastian gave away our little game to the pathetic little humans. And he missed out on a feast tonight. I wonder where he is now.

When Sebastian approached the church he stood for several minutes in the graveyard against a tree, merging with its cold bark and just quietly observing. Everything seemed still, incredibly still, but there was something unnatural about the hush tonight, something that he just could not pinpoint. He searched the darkness keenly, checking that he was not being watched. After standing motionless for a period like one of the church gargoyles he was still not totally satisfied, but as there was no sign of anyone he proceeded with all his senses alert. There was dew forming on the grass around the gravestones which left a subtle trace of his passing. Although he trod carefully, as he crossed the gravel there was the lightest of crunching noises under his feet. He cursed these tell-tale signs and held his breath, listening for indications of anybody else. There were none.

A moment later and he entered the church. No candles were lit so he stood bathed in shadows. He allowed himself to adjust to the lack of starlight within, compensating for the new surroundings and the way sound waves echoed off the walls, feeling the marginally higher temperature and the slight draft of air circulating in currents around the room, all key elements that he used so perfectly in detecting if there were any other creatures present.

Silence. Still air. Nothing. There was no living entity in the church and yet he felt uneasy. Was he too tense? Was it just his demons plaguing him again? He moved forwards along the central aisle. His head turned left and right as much to aid his listening as to detect any movement. Again, nothing. Even in the darkness, when he was only half way through the church his keen eyes picked out a shadow to the side of the altar. He froze although he was not sure why. His muscles tensed. Instinctively he dreaded the next few seconds. It was with a great feeling of reluctance that he approached, walking slowly as though through treacle.

Despite his need for stealth he could not contain the gasp and moan that escaped his lips. The back of his neck prickled and he took a small step away. The wasted and practically unrecognizable corpse of Max lay curled in a foetal position. The skin had shrunk tightly around the skeleton and split in places. It was flaky and chalky white and much of it seemed to have turned into powder. The limbs had wrapped around the torso and all the joints were hooked as though through some terrible affliction of arthritis. He was hairless and the eyes had withdrawn deep into the skull leaving two black, all-seeing sockets staring up at him in anger and accusation. They seemed to be asking, how could you abandon us in our hour of need? The head had lolled to the side and was at an angle to the body and Sebastian sank to his knees as he wept silent tears.

He permitted himself just a moment and then forced himself to regain his composure. Quickly he searched for any other clues as to what may have occurred or indeed any sign of his Clan Leader. It did not take long to discover the two chalices. He examined them closely, sniffing the blood distrustfully. Although it had long since dried it still carried the faintest of odours, one that took him no time to place.

Infection!

He almost swooned with the sudden, heady comprehension of what must have occurred. The vision of it flooded his realisation, filling his imagination with horrific images of betrayal. It was clear that there had been treachery and that obviously implied one person.

He looked around now, suddenly very conscious of his own predicament, straining to hear the slightest sound or detect the smallest of disturbance in the air, aware that he was very probably next on Farzin’s kill-list. He wondered where the remains of his old clan were and if he was in jeopardy at that very moment.

In truth, there were actually others who were currently at the top of Farzin’s kill list.

Farzin’s hand rested lightly on Flavia’s cheek a moment as he tilted her head up towards him so that she could not avoid his stare. He looked into her eyes and smiled. She emulated the expression as best she could, hoping that he was not as good at reading her as she was him.

A screech erupted from a nearby building as a woman saw them, a middle aged lady wearing a tatty, white blouse and dark pencil skirt. Her hair was severely swept back and had been torn out in clumps exposing small bits of her scalp as pale spots in the starlight, and she had a limp that became more pronounced as she ran towards them.

She’s mine, Farzin hissed, leaping to the fore and crouching, awaiting her arrival like a statue. When she was barely a yard away and stretching out her arms towards him he exploded into action and kicked out at her. He caught her in the stomach sending her flying onto her back. With a groan she got to her feet and came at him again. He repeated the same action as they all watched, spellbound by the pantomime. Again she was lifted off her feet and hurled backwards. A third and fourth time she repeated the process, getting slower and slower. On the fifth time she got wearily to her feet and now stood hunched over, unable to stand straight as internal bleeding and broken bones conspired against her. Warily she regarded her target with a baleful glare but this time did not attack. Instead she maintained her distance and snarled at him.

They learn! Farzin exclaimed, turning to his new clan with a triumphant expression, like a scientist shouting ‘Eureka!’ With that he bounded towards her and dispatched her with a single blow across the throat.

As the woman’s body crumpled to the ground he turned slowly to face them with a vitriolic look. I believe there may be more sport to be had within.

He indicated the small building from which the woman had emerged. A sign hung above the entrance, ‘The Liane Lawson Girls’ Finishing School’. It had white-washed walls and blood-stained windows. When tainted they tend to herd even more than before, so I believe we should find some of them inside. Come, let us go and indulge ourselves with a little light recreation, and he turned towards the gaping doorway leading into darkness.

Flavia watched him stride excitedly towards the building with a curious feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had observed him closely over the past couple of weeks, noticing him become increasingly unpredictable and irate. As human society had collapsed, his behaviour had changed subtly. Vengeance and wrath were now uppermost in his thoughts, always bubbling close to the surface. Alec followed on his heel and Luca slowly trailed behind. Ricardo turned to Simeon with a slight shrug before disappearing after them. Only Simeon remained in situ, still holding Vida across his shoulder. His fingers were like meat hooks, casually enclosing her waist in one immense fist. He made no move to follow and Flavia regarded him cautiously for a moment. His broad features were lowered to the ground. He seemed as strong and immovable as a statue hewn from solid rock and just as devoid of emotion. If Farzin was frightening for his instability, then Simeon was doubly so for his outright unstoppable might. He vacantly returned her look as a hideously deranged scream, and then a second, sounded from somewhere within the school.

Sebastian knew that neither Darius nor Max had gone out much since the human state of emergency. They had had little contact with the infected, which could possibly explain why they might not have detected the taint to the blood. He could well imagine Farzin trying to hide the smug expression as he presented the chalice to Darius in a gesture of subjugation and the subsequent, horrendous attack upon Max when he realised his beloved leader had been felled. Sebastian could recall the look Farzin had given him as he had left the church that very evening, and what thoughts Farzin must have had at that moment. He cursed silently for having been absent at such a pivotal moment. Had he been there, could he have prevented the brutality? Guilt was now uppermost in his mind. Distracted as he was by the horror-show playing out in his mind, he did not sense the movement right behind him, did not feel the slight stirring in the air or the faintest of footfalls until it was too late.

Sebastian.

He span round in shock, the tragedy of the night predisposing him to action. He simultaneously leapt backwards, away from the noise and landed poised and ready for an onslaught. But none came, no attacking blows rained down on him. Only Flavia stood before him, standing quite erect and still, her chest heaving but a serene look in her eyes.

Sebastian. She said the word again as if for the very first time, or as though it would be the last time, rolling it around in her mouth, hanging on to every syllable and gaining pleasure from it; or perhaps as though her life depended on it.

What happened here? he demanded.

Her serenity seemed to be shattered and her face furrowed. Although he did not entirely trust her he thought the reaction might possibly be genuine. Possibly.

Farzin. It was all she needed to say.

Why didn’t you stop him? he asked but he knew that it was a pointless question. How could she have stopped him? He was as capricious as a cat locked in a box – when released, who knows where he would jump?

She just shrugged and looked over her shoulder.

Where are they?

I came ahead, I wanted to get back here first, just in case… she trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence. She was always the fastest of them all and perhaps that speed had saved him tonight. He now realised why her chest had been heaving. Normally so fast and so capable, she must have truly exerted herself. She had given him the option to escape. But how much would that cost her?

Where have you been? He was suddenly very suspicious as his mind galloped ahead.

That doesn’t matter right now.

Where? he demanded again, although he had already guessed.

To the humans.

His shoulders slumped. Suddenly everything was changing and too fast, although had he not known that to be the case from the moment that human civilization imploded? He had been avoiding the truth, hiding from it, unwilling to open his eyes, little better than Darius and Max, but the truth had finally caught up with him. He placed a hand gently on her arm. It occurred to him that it was the first physical contact they had had since she defended him and hauled him to his feet at the petrol station nearly a week before. So much had happened since then; the two realities were barely reconcilable, like strangers on passing trains, catching a brief glimpse of one another, a fleeting moment shared, before disappearing forever into the dark.

You don’t have to stay here and wait for them, he said quietly, his eyes fixing on hers, something that he should have said a long time before, something that he did not really know how to phrase now but knew he had to try. You could come… He wanted to add, ‘with me’, but the words died in his throat.

She paused, for once letting her guard down, and he saw the real look of concern in her eyes and the real Flavia behind it. It had been a while, quite a while, but he still recognized her. She smiled, a thin and pained yet genuine smile, laced with real emotion and regret from countless years and wasted opportunities. You should go, she said softly.

He sighed, holding her glance a moment longer before letting his hand fall from her arm. He knew she would stay. He accepted that she had made her mind up. But Sebastian was not as adept as Flavia was at reading other people. All he could see was the rejection. He could not fully see the inner turmoil within her, the indecision and the longing, and how close she was to acquiescence. She knew if she were not there waiting for Farzin’s return his suspicions would be confirmed and he would hunt them down, not resting until they were both dead. But if only Sebastian had pushed just a little harder, maybe it might have been different. Perhaps he would have reassured her that they could escape, go beyond Farzin’s reach, far away; as they should have done long before. He thought she had rejected him outright in favour of her partner and almost regretted laying himself open, but a time was fast approaching when she would have to make a more definitive choice. Although he did not know it, his opportunities were not yet spent.

Thank you, he murmured.

The word was left hanging in the air, mingling with the odour of the blood of the infected and the shame of the corpse near their feet. As he disappeared out into the guilty night beyond, her eyes followed him as she wished whole-heartedly to do herself.

CHAPTER 2

It was agreed on the base that to venture out immediately to try and rescue Vida would be suicidal. Not only was it now acknowledged that there were indeed these vampires to contend with, but also the pre-existing and not insignificant threat of the infected. Everyone was jumpy and in need of a night’s rest, not that there would be much chance of that after the slaughter of Lance Corporal Dean Millington, Privates Hanson and Howes, and the abduction of Vida. The best thing would be to venture forth at first light in the hope that vampires might be true to myth and legend and sleep during the day. Ultimately, all they had to go on was myth and legend after all, and what Collins could tell them.

As Corporal Charlotte Collins settled down on a blanket on the hard dining room floor she wondered again about the mysterious visitations she had experienced when alone in the guardroom at night. She tried to remember the conversations in as much detail as possible in case there was anything else Sebastian had said that might aid their cause. In the depths of her mind she had darker forebodings however. Had Sebastian himself been involved in the attack on the three men? Had he been partly responsible for the abduction of Vida? She did not think so as that would surely go against everything he had told her and all that he seemed to be. But what if it had all been nothing more than an elaborate ruse to gain her confidence? She puzzled and fretted over this for a while and sleep evaded her as easily as a vampire in the night.

Sergeant Liam Wood silently lay on the blanket next to Charlotte Collins and tried not to disturb her, but the moment she felt him arrive she turned and looked into his eyes. She could see an immense tiredness there and something more, perhaps the effects of stress or possibly a subtle distance that had not been present until her recent admission about her vampyric liaisons. For once she felt a little nervous in his presence and tentatively reached out to touch his arm.

Hi. How are you doing? She smiled pleadingly, hoping for a more positive response than those vague half smiles he had flashed at her earlier. He gently took her hand in his and she felt a small measure of relief.

I’m okay, just a little tired but I’m sure we all are.

Yeah, you can say that again.

I’m a little tired but I…

Ha ha, very funny. It was a lame attempt at humour but that was enough to reassure her that things were perhaps not too strained between them. Maybe things would be alright. Maybe she hadn’t forced too great a wedge between them.

Look, I wanted to tell you about the vampire coming to visit me but I guess I just… she started, but he cut her off, placing a finger gently on her lips.

You don’t have to explain anything to me.

Yes, yes I do, she whispered urgently. She desperately wanted to explain, to make him understand. I do actually. This is more than just about you and me. It’s about all of us. I wanted to tell you but it all just seemed too fantastical. I mean I was having enough trouble getting my own head around it, let alone trying to convince anyone else that I had just had a chat with a vampire. I mean it’s ridiculous, right?

Yeah well pretty much everything seems far out at the moment. I guess ridiculous is the new reality.

"But I wanted to tell you of all people. I think there had just not really been an opportunity to talk