Something of the Night (2 page)

Chapter Two

The klaxon wailed urgently. Within seconds the Perspex
barrier was covered from one end of the cavern to the next by a bedraggled
rabble. The transparent barrier split the open cavern in two. On one side an anxious
mob, while on the other was an empty holding pen. Gun barrels were quickly
shoved through crudely cut holes, scattered at intervals along the surface of
the transparent wall. And, where the threat of gunmetal was missing, sharpened
spears and other spiked poles could be found. Tipped with silver, these crude
weapons glinted with white lightning as they wavered from side to side. Some of
the younger, more inexperienced defenders almost panicked, but as they sensed
the presence of greatness behind them, they held fast and dug their feet into
the rough surface of the rock beneath their feet.

“Hold steady!” the voice
commanded firmly.

The klaxon fell silent. A
huge iron door began to draw open with a mighty groan. Along the line of
defenders, metal clicked and clattered as the sound of firearms, rifles and
shotguns locking and loading echoed throughout the cavern. What remained of the
human race peered through the plastic barrier. They held their breath as one. The
door opened fully and the dark void spat out three concealed shapes.

“Slowly!” the voice warned,
as they stepped out from the shadows.

The newcomers raised their
arms to reveal empty hands. They moved to the centre of the makeshift arena
before pulling away threadbare cowls.

An audible sigh escaped the
defendants.

“Jacob …” someone gasped.

Flint
grey eyes turned towards the speaker. With a tilt of
his head, Jacob Cain said, “Aye, I have returned from the dead!”

Behind the three newcomers
the door slid shut. The colossal barrier closed, huge pins locking the doorway
tight with an audible hiss of compressed air. Some of the defendants watched
eagerly as the locking mechanism slid tight, anxious about what lay beyond,
hopeful that the solid barrier would keep the things of the night at bay,
things that even the gates of Hell had been unable to contain.

The leader on the other side
of the transparent barrier stepped between two soldiers. “Come, Jacob, you must
pass the test.”

Jacob grinned back coldly,
startling one of the defendants.

“He’s one of them!” said a
nervous voice.

“Silence!” the leader
commanded.

Jacob grinned again to reveal
straight white teeth and pointed canines. Someone panicked and a spear was
thrust out towards him. Swiping the weapon away with one hand, Jacob blocked
the attack. “Caution, my friend,” he warned the spear-bearer.

“Enough of this foolishness.
Jacob, stand before Father,” the leader instructed.

Jacob offered the
spear-bearer a short growl before he stepped in front of an ageing, darkly
robed man. The holy man, named simply as Father, reached into the folds of his
cloak and withdrew a clear vial of water. He unscrewed the cap and then poured
the blessed liquid into the palm of his hand. Then, in one quick motion, he
tossed the clear droplets through a ragged hole in the barrier, dousing Jacob
Cain’s face.

For a second nobody breathed.

Jacob reached up with grime
stained fingers. The armed assembly watched as he ran them across his face,
before pulling them away to reveal glistening tips. His mouth opened and the
wet fingers disappeared momentarily. The defenders heard sucking noises. After
a moment they saw his hand return to his side.

“There, I’m clean. Now let me
through,” he ordered.

“Not yet, my friend,” the
leader said. “Now, you two,” he added, pointing to Jacob’s companions. One
after the other, the two followed the bizarre ritual.

Once the defenders were
satisfied, the three newcomers were allowed entry. One by one the guns were
pulled back through the plastic barrier. The centre of the barricade cleared
and a small section of Perspex swung open to allow the three weary companions
entrance.

“My friend,” the leader said.
“I’ve been worried. It’s been three days since you left. I’d almost given up
hope.”

“Hey! It’s me you’re talking
to, remember?” Jacob joked.

“My friend, you risk too much
by staying out so long. One day they’ll catch you,” the leader chided.

Jacob laughed bitterly. “Then
you’d better keep the door locked, or I may come for you first.”

“Aye, I believe you would as
well, you sick bastard.” The leader turned towards Jacob’s companions. “Go to
the mess hall and eat.”

“Okay, Major Patterson,” the
two said in unison. Both Elliot and Daniel Harper turned their backs before
heading towards the underground canteen and a plate of cold stew.

“They’re good boys, both of
them,” Major Patterson said.

“Yeah, two of the best
trackers I’ve ever seen,” Jacob agreed.

The Major rested his arm
across Jacob’s shoulders. “Let’s get you debriefed. Then you can get some
rest.”

“Good plan,” Jacob said.

They moved into a dark,
twisting passageway and made their way down into the catacombs of the mountain
complex. They passed numerous bedraggled people on their short journey and,
even though most were weary from malnourishment, all snapped to attention as
the Major passed by. Eventually they turned into a small alcove to enter a gloomy
looking compartment. A battle-scarred desk filled the middle of the room, with two
chairs, that were stripped of varnish, on either side. An electric lamp glowed
weakly above.

“Sit,” Patterson said, with a
gesture towards a chair.

Jacob pulled the chair over
to the desk and sat so he could see both the entrance and the Major.

Patterson read his comrade’s
unease. “Relax, you passed the test. You’re safe and home.”

He looked around at the
carved rock. “Home?”

Patterson recollected the
world of yesteryear. He released a weary sigh. “Yes, we are a long way from the
sunny days of years gone by, but for now these unbearable rocks must remain our
home
and
our sanctuary.”

“I guess so,” Jacob
concurred. His mouth split into a bitter grin. In the weak glow of the single
lamp, his elongated canines glinted with two small slivers of light.

A shiver ran down the Major’s
back as he looked upon the sharp fangs. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to
the sight of those,” he said, with another nervous shiver.

Jacob reached up with his
dirty fingers. He prodded at the ceramic teeth. For a second, he recalled the
agony he’d endured while undergoing the operation. He remembered how he’d drunk
nearly a full bottle of neat whisky before allowing the surgeon and his crude
instruments to go to work.

“They serve their purpose,”
he said, and dropped his hand away from the artificial fangs.

“That they do,” Patterson
agreed. “Okay, so tell me, what are those bastard bloodsuckers up to now?”

“Ezekiel moves his army
eastwards and will soon enter our territory,” he said. “And Raphael remains
camped far to the south.”

“Christ!” Patterson spat. “Do
you think we could slip through their grasp if we headed east?”

“No, they’ll anticipate that
and intercept within days of our escape.”

“Then we are trapped,” the
Major moaned.

“Then perhaps now is the time
for us to stand and fight instead of running?”

“But we stand at two thousand
soldiers only. What chance do we have against an army of millions?” Patterson
asked miserably.

“They grow weak also.
Remember, their food supply diminishes every time they take one of us.”

“But these … breeding camps.
Is there any truth behind them?”

Jacob looked down at his
booted feet, unable to hold the old man’s eyes.

“Tell me Jacob, do these
camps exist?”

“Yeah,” he finally admitted,
reluctantly, knowing what would follow.

“Then she could still be
alive,” Patterson declared, and hope spread across his face.

“No, she’s gone,” Jacob
snapped angrily. Then he saw the old man’s face collapse with despair. “Sir,
Hannah must be … gone by now. It’s been five years.”

“But she’s still young, and
could bear children. They may have kept her alive.”

“No. She’s gone!” Jacob
yelled.

“How can you just forget
about her?” the Major asked.

“Are you serious? Forget?
There isn’t a minute that goes by when I can’t feel the pain of her loss. But
it’s been too long, and I’ve scouted too many camps for there to be any hope of
finding her.”

The old man shook his head.
“But she’s my daughter.” A tear cascaded down the rough plain of his face.

“Aye, and my wife,” Jacob
said, holding back his own grief, just.

The Major wiped away the
teardrop before regaining his composure. “So what do we do now?”

“We get our shit together and
head north, and hit Ezekiel with everything we’ve got.”

“Suicide,” the Major barked.

“Yeah, maybe, but I’ve had
enough of these walls,” Jacob said. “Hell, who wants to live forever, anyway?”

Chapter Three

With a sigh of despair the mechanic threw the rusty
wrench down. He turned towards the small mongrel dog at his side and offered it
a miserable shake of his head. “Too goddamn important,” he said.

Tilting its brown and white
head, the dog gave him a sympathetic whine.

“Yeah, you got that right,
Scratch,” the mechanic said.

Scratch padded over and ran a
small pink tongue over the guy’s greasy face. “Good boy,” muttered the guy, as
he tickled the mutt behind one ear. The dog jumped onto the mechanic’s oily
overalls and continued to lick at his grimy skin. The terrier eagerly lapped away
at his cheek.

“Easy boy, better not get too
carried away.”

The mechanic ran his hand
along the mutt’s flanks and there felt the protrusion of bones. He quickly
passed the rack of ribs, and instead let his hand rest on the dog’s thigh.
Subconsciously, his stomach grumbled as his hand rested against the juicy meat
underneath. He wondered – and not for the first time – what the leg would taste
like if he were to roast it over naked flames and smear it with a layer of hot
grease. As these thoughts invaded his mind, a clear drop of saliva dripped out
of his open mouth to stain his double chin. Grime-covered fingers wiped away
the drool, leaving behind instead a trail of smears, which ran from lip to
chin.

The mechanic shook his head
before returning his thoughts to the worn-out engine in front of him. He picked
up the wrench and tightened the sprocket to the modified engine. Once satisfied
with the tightness of the coupling, he dropped the wrench for a second time,
but this time without the accompanying sigh. He looked around the cluttered
workbench until he found a flattened screwdriver. Then, as he went to work on
the engine, he let his thoughts turn away from food - or the lack of it.

Scratch disappeared for a
moment, before returning with something in his mouth. He padded over to the
mechanic and dropped the rubber gasket at his side.

“Good boy, Scratch. What a
clever boy,” the guy said.

The mutt’s little tail wagged
eagerly, pleased with his master’s remark. Scratch watched as the guy’s hand
disappeared inside his overalls. After a brief wait, he was rewarded with a
stale cracker. The mutt’s tail went into overdrive as he chomped on the
biscuit. “Good boy,” the mechanic repeated, patting the dog’s head.

After he’d finished the
treat, Scratch squatted down on his haunches and began to work at the
irritation that crawled throughout his fur.

The mechanic picked up the
makeshift gasket, which had once been the heel to a pair of sneakers, and
slipped it into the engine. He took the carburettor and inserted the two pieces
of machinery together. “Perfect,” he commented, as the objects slotted into
each other. Using a ratchet, he began to screw oily bolts back into their
housings. After a short while he finished the repairs and stood back to view
his handiwork.

The modified engine sat on
the workbench like some ancient mechanical beast. Three or four thick black
pipes drooped down from the engine, which gave it legs. A large circular
manifold protruded out of the main block, adding a head to the legs, and
pistons ran along the sides of the mechanism, gracing this beast with arms.

“Mmm … Impressive …”

The mechanic turned and
stared into the face of a pretty young woman.

“Good job, Squirrel,” the
woman said.

“Thanks,” Squirrel responded
bashfully. He rubbed his greasy hands down the front of his overalls. “Hey,
after we’ve fixed the engine back into Old Betsy, maybe you could take me out
for a spin?”

She turned towards the
clapped-out truck parked just inside the open workshop. “Hell no, you’re too
important. We need you here, safe and sound.”

“Please, just for an hour,
that’s all,” Squirrel pleaded.

“Major Patterson would have
kittens if he found out.”

“He won’t find out, please.
I’m going crazy stuck in here.”

“Okay, but only on the test
run. I ain’t stupid enough to take our best mechanic out on a salvage mission,”
she said, patting his arm.

Squirrel’s heart fluttered as
Alice Hammond’s hand rested against his flabby bicep. She released his arm,
stepped over to the engine-block and made a quick examination. Leaning over,
one of her blond ringlets fell forwards and lay across her pale cheek.
Absentmindedly, she reached up with her hand and tucked the loose lock behind
her ear.

“Excellent work,” she said,
and returned to the mechanic’s side.

“Thanks,” Squirrel mumbled,
feeling self-conscious under her intense gaze. “Maybe once we fix Old Betsy up
… perhaps we could get a bite to eat?”

“Scratch!”
Alice
exclaimed, as the mutt appeared from under a workbench. She reached over to
pick the dog up and giggled as his pink tongue tickled her nose. “Who’s been a
good boy?” she mumbled into the terrier’s floppy ear.

Yap
!
Yap
!
Scratch
barked.

Alice
continued to giggle as the little mutt lapped at her
nose. She endured the terrier’s overeager affections for a few minutes,
enjoying the attention before finally lowering him to the floor. Instantly,
Scratch went to work, his matted fur a living nightmare of irritation.

“Sorry, what did you say?”
she asked, her attention back on the mechanic.

Squirrel shuffled awkwardly
to avoid her piercing blue eyes. His bravery dissolved like an evaporating
mist. He replied, “Nothing … it doesn’t matter.”

“Listen, you must be hungry,”
Alice
said. “You’ve been at it all day. Why don’t you come and grab a bite to eat?”

Squirrel swelled with
excitement. He barely managed to contain himself when he answered, “Yeah!
Great!”

Alice
gave him a warm smile before she looped her hand
around his flabby forearm. “Come on then, what are we waiting for?” she said,
and pulled him towards the exit.

Suddenly conscious of his oil-covered
skin, Squirrel battled between not wishing to cover her in dirt and grease, and
alternatively wanting to squeeze her close, so he could feel her warm body
against his own desperate flesh.

***

Elliot Harper scooped another spoonful of lukewarm
broth into his mouth. He grunted, but not in satisfaction. Neither he nor his
brother had ever enjoyed the flavour of a finely cooked meal or the taste of a
pleasurable and mouth-watering snack. Nor had their palates been graced with a
mouthful of spicy fare. Instead, Elliot Harper’s grunt was one of acceptance.
Both born in post-apocalyptic times, neither brother had any memory of shared
birthdays, eating at fast-food restaurants, the excitement of waiting for the
doorbell to ring, signalling the arrival of a much anticipated pizza, or even
the simple experience of eating without giving thought as to where the meal had
come from. The Harper brothers ate without enjoyment or satisfaction, simply
offering this tepid and tasteless stew up to uneducated maws. Like two robotic
arms, the brothers continued to shovel the insipid broth into open mouths in
unconscious synchrony.

Elliot Harper finished his
bowl then raised his eyes in time to see Alice Hammond and Squirrel enter the
dimly illuminated canteen area.

Alice
caught the tracker’s stare. Surprised by his
reappearance, she gave Elliot an animated wave. Elliot offered his own wave and
beckoned both
Alice
and Squirrel over.

“Where have you been?”
Alice
asked
the tracker.

Elliot raised a dirty thumb
and tilted it over his shoulder. “Out in the darkness, chasing rats.”

“What?”
Alice
asked.

Daniel Harper tilted his head
towards the two newcomers.

“We’ve been out hunting down
the undead vermin that swarms over our borders,” he said.

Although only two years
separated them, these two Harper siblings could not have looked more different.
While Elliot possessed features made up of odd angles and grey, bleached-out
eyes, his brother was gifted with a face of unquestionable beauty. The only
thing that they both possessed of similarity was a mane of thick, curly hair,
which grew out in brown clumps. Although the blue-eyed younger brother was of
obvious beauty, it was the angular features of Elliot Harper that made
Alice
’s
stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Had ourselves a merry old
dance,” Daniel Harper spat bitterly.

“What happened?” Squirrel
asked, excited at the prospect of hearing a tale about the outside world.

“Found ourselves a party of
trackers, ‘bout two days walk from here,” Daniel said. “That bastard Ezekiel
has sent more and more search parties southwards. He knows we’re here, but not
where exactly.”

“So what happened?”
Alice
urged,
already absorbed.

Elliot took up the tale.
“Jacob decided to have a little fun, so he led the party of trackers on a three
day trail. Made them think they’d found us – idiots - and then took them on a
trek that must have sent their heads spinning with delirium.”

“First, we trekked all the
way north, as far as Fort Collins,” Daniel continued, “then we split up, and
Elliot and I led half the party westwards, while Jacob took the other half
right back into their own camp!”

“What?” both Squirrel and
Alice
asked,
open-mouthed.

Daniel presented the group
with an uncharacteristic grin. “Crazy son-of-a-bitch walked them right into the
middle of their own camp, danced a merry jig and then disappeared into the
shadows.”

“Why?” Squirrel asked.

“Because he can, that’s why,”
Daniel explained. “They may be the most abundant race but we’re still the most
intelligent species on the planet. And I think Jacob likes to remind them of
that fact.”

“Then why are we stuck in
here while they roam the open lands freely?”
Alice
asked.

Daniel said, “Because
they
hide within the never-ending shadows. Once the sun returns, things will change.
I tell you, I’m ready for a bit of payback.”

“The sun …”
Alice
said,
wistfully, half in rapture at the thought of beautiful golden rays caressing
her pale skin. She had only the faintest of memories of days out in the sun.
For her, day had become night at a very early age. And now, only tales told
under the cover of artificial lights reassured her that the world had once been
something other than this perpetual night.

They sat in silence for a
moment, before Elliot spoke. “Daniel’s right. Once the sun returns and those
bastard bloodsuckers flee to hide in their putrid lairs, then we’ll drag their
sorry asses out into daylight and enjoy the fireworks!”

“Do you really think the sun
will ever return?”
Alice
enquired.

Elliot Harper looked directly
into her eyes. “I hope so. God, I hope so.”