What Happens in the Darkness (39 page)

Paula moved across the room and sat beside her daughter on the sofa. She pulled the child close, resting Janelle’s head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Paula said, and Martin wondered if she meant it. Not that it mattered, really—Janelle seemed comforted by her mother’s actions, regardless of their sincerity. But Martin suspected that on some level, Paula understood and truly wanted to comfort her child.

“I’m sick,” Janelle said, curling up against her mother. “I wish you could make it better.”

“So do I, Janelle.”

*** 

“We have to get out of this country,” Luke said. Several days had passed, and nothing had changed. No miracles, no revelations on how to repair the damage. Most of the vampires had resigned themselves to this fate. Earlier that day, two had chosen to watch the sunrise. It was the last thing they would ever see.

“We can’t leave,” Kem said. His weakness prevented the animated responses Martin had grown used to seeing. “They’ll be waiting for us. There’s no place to go.”

“Luke’s right,” Martin said, shaking his head. “We’re dead here anyway. We have nothing to lose by trying. There has to be someplace.”

They sat outside on a mild December evening. Stars danced in a cloudless sky beside a full moon. What should have been an enjoyable evening went unnoticed.

The thick scent of pine, the crisp taste of snow had been replaced by a cloying, rotting-flesh smell. It hung in the air, a permanent fixture.

“She’s dying,” Paula said, joining them in the compound.

“I know,” Martin said, truly sorry for the loss of the child. He’d grown quite fond of Janelle and wished he could do something to save her.

“No—I mean now. It’s starting. She doesn’t have much longer.”

“Nosebleed?”

Paula nodded. “Skin peeling. Fingernails falling off.”

“That poor kid,” Martin said.

“I have to get back to her,” Paula said. “I just thought you’d want to know.”

He nodded, and stared into the dying woods. He was no longer capable of crying, but if he were able, he would shed tears for Janelle.

“How do we do this?” Kem demanded. “How do we get the hell out of here?”

*** 

Paula cradled Janelle in her arms. The girl was raging with fever, and her undernourished body trembled with weakness and disease.

She opened her eyes, stared at her mother, and tried to smile. Her last moments would be with the one she loved more than anyone, and somehow this made her happy. Despite the pain, and the knowledge of her inevitable death, Janelle felt peace.

Paula stroked her hair, and Janelle squeezed her mother’s hand.

“It’s all right, Janelle. It’ll be all right.”

*** 

Luke stretched and walked toward Martin. After only a few steps he stumbled, catching himself on the edge of a chunk of building. For several seconds he stayed in that position, too weak to stand.

Martin grabbed his arm and helped him up.

“We can’t fly,” Luke said. “Even if we found a plane, who could pilot it?”

“I can fly,” Kem said.

“Too dangerous,” Martin said. “They’ll be expecting a plane. Better by boat.”

“They’ll be expecting us no matter how we travel,” Kem added.

“True,” Martin said. “But we’ll be ready for them too. We just destroyed their goddamned army. We’ll be ready if they’re waiting. But to be safe, we’ll try to find a more obscure destination. But it’s safer for us to travel by boat.”

“Faster by plane,” Kem said.

“Too many of us to fly by plane. And you’re only one pilot.”

“It’s been weeks,” Tim said, wiping the corners of her mouth with the back of his hand. He glanced at the moisture and discovered blood. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered.

They all stared at his blood-smeared hand, the hunger apparent in their eyes, every one of them wanting to attack Tim for the few drops of blood.

Martin looked confused, and opened his mouth but seemed to be at a loss for words.

“I fed,” Tim whispered. “Right after the bomb hit, the day after. I didn’t think I was going to get sick, especially after all this time …”

“Jesus,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t! I wasn’t thinking …” He leaned against a concrete slab and leaned forward.

Martin detected movement from the entrance to their quarters. A small figure emerged. “Who is it?” She was too small to be anyone he knew. Any of the vampires, anyway. This person was a child. He glanced over. “Janelle?”

She walked toward them, her gait steady, her head held high.

“She’s dead,” Janelle said. “Paula’s dead.”

Janelle was one of them now. Even after feeding on her mother’s blood—her own, really, through the ritual of draining and restoring blood—they knew she wouldn’t survive for very long. Janelle needed untainted human blood like the rest of them. And soon, or she would die.

“She gave her life for me,” she said. “The sad part is, I can’t appreciate it. Not anymore. I don’t even miss Thomas anymore. How do you learn to live without emotions?”

“You get used to it, kid,” Martin said.

“But I want to feel! I want to miss my mother and love her! I was better off dying …”

“Were you?” Martin asked.

“Yeah, well,” Tim snapped. “You’re still dying.”

Janelle shook her head and ignored Tim. “Why does everything have to be so hard? It’s not fair!”

“No, kid,” Martin said. “It isn’t.”

*** 

Twenty-three vampires remained, and they left the army base together. What should have been a journey of only several hours took almost two nights. They had to take shelter during the day, but they finally reached their destination.

They located a marina and split up among three boats. They secured the sleeping quarters, sealing off windows, doors, and any crack that might allow sunlight to seep in.

They met up with several humans interested in traveling with them, wanting to escape these lands in search of a cure. These humans knew they would be safe from attack; their blood was useless to the vampires now.

Janelle, Martin, and the twins stayed together on one boat. It was close to sunup. They would have to go below soon. Three other vampires and four humans traveled with them.

“You’d better get below,” their human said. He’d told them earlier he hailed from Texas, and the guy was built like a linebacker. He told them he wasn’t feeling sick yet.

Martin trusted him—not that he had much of a choice. With humans navigating during the day, they would all be able to travel much faster and not have to anchor while the sun was up. Even at full speed, the trip was going to take weeks.

Martin hoped Janelle would last that long. Of course it might not even matter—who knew what waited for them on foreign shores?

Martin, the twins, and Janelle waited on deck until they knew it was no longer safe and then headed below deck.

*** 

“I’m scared,” Janelle said.

“You are?” Martin asked, tucking her into bed, sealing the blanket around her bunk. “You can’t be scared. Fear isn’t something we feel.”

“But I do. I feel scared. What if we don’t make it?”

“Janelle, there’s always a chance something could go wrong. The boat could capsize. The humans could kill us in our sleep. These are real concerns. We might not even reach our destination, and even if we do, we might be killed the minute we reach shore.”

“That’s a hell of a bedtime story,” Luke said.

“I’m just laying out the facts. There are no guarantees. But one thing’s for sure—if we didn’t leave, death would have been inevitable. At least this way we have a chance.”

“Yeah, well, go to sleep, Martin,” Luke said. “And dream of foreign lands filled with juicy humans.”

Martin laughed. “Good plan.” 

*** 

“Good night,” Janelle said out of habit, and almost said, “Don’t let the bedbugs bite” but stopped herself. It seemed silly now, those things she’d once held dear. She’d fought against becoming a vampire, but now that she was one—it wasn’t so bad. Well, except for the starving part. But Martin was supposed to fix that.

She closed her eyes, the cradling boat relaxing her. She wondered if she would dream. She hadn’t yet, these past few nights—although she’d heard vampires don’t dream.

As she drifted off to sleep, she hoped she would dream about Paula, and her brothers, and Thomas, about foreign lands and salvation. She hoped she would dream of these things.

She fell asleep, and she dreamed.

Monica J. O’Rourke has published more than one hundred short stories in magazines such as Postscripts, Nasty Piece of Work, Fangoria, Flesh & Blood, Nemonymous, and Brutarian and anthologies such as Horror for Good (for charity), The Mammoth Book of the Kama Sutra, and The Best of Horrorfind. She is the author of Poisoning Eros I and II, written with Wrath James White, Suffer the Flesh, and the brand-new collection, In the End, Only Darkness. She works as a freelance editor, proofreader, and book coach. Her website is an ongoing and seemingly endless work in progress, so find her on www.facebook.com/MonicaJORourke in the meantime.

Table of Contents

Start