Blood Cell (17 page)

They went through the second door and shut it too, just to be sure. Norris double-checked the lock while Josh went to Sally’s cell.

“Sally’s right over—Jesus, no...” Josh said.

Norris turned from the gate to see what had taken Farewell’s attention. It was obvious. Two of the cells had been torn open. It was like someone had peeled the steel doors away with a giant can opener.

“She was...?” Norris started.

“In that one.” Josh pointed. Thomas Turner was the other.”

“Jesus,” Carlos said, approaching the ruined cells. “If it can do this, and take out Terminal Tom, I don’t think we should be fucking with it.”

“I was supposed to find her,” Norris said. “It was up to me.” He took a second to wander into Sally’s cell. There was no trace of her. No blood. “I can’t believe... I failed.” He wiped his eyes before turning back to the doorway. “What now?”

“Well,” Josh said, looking back at the cellblock that they had just escaped from. “We can’t go that way.”

Norris nodded. “Secure corridor. Try the exit by the mess hall.”

“No way,” said Carlos. “That’s the best barricade in the place. We’ll never get out through there. Better off trying the upstairs. The room on the balcony over the mess hall.”

When he mentioned the balcony room, he looked at Josh.

“Still gotta start by going that way,” Norris said.

They headed out of the ad seg once again, this time heading down the corridor. As they walked, Carlos came shoulder-to-shoulder with Josh.

“I get why you did it,” Carlos said to Josh.

“Did what?”

“Delman.”

Josh stopped walking. “Look, I—“

“You knew what he was, what he was in for. You saw him going after Norris’ girlfriend and you had to do something. I get it.”

They tapped knuckles, since they couldn’t shake hands while holding the crosses, and kept walking.

In the darkness ahead, there was a sound like a fight.

“Santos!” Carlos called out.

“Sally!” cried Norris.

The trio ran toward the sound. Under yellow emergency light in the sparse cement corridor, they saw figures running toward them.

“John!” it was Sally’s voice.

They met under the yellow light. Norris, Josh, and Carlos; Sally and Matt Williams. Behind them, Thomas Turner was running from the dark figure. Sally didn’t embrace Norris when they met, or even speak to him. She grabbed the stake from his hand and turned back toward the darkness from which she had come.

Twenty feet away, barely visible, Thomas Turner was slamming the vampire against the wall. He had it pinned against the concrete, overpowering it. And then the vampire fell apart, and the pieces that dropped off never hit the ground. It turned into a cloud of bats, passing around Thomas to his back, then coalescing back into a human form. The vampire punched Thomas in the back before he had a chance to turn. Even down the hallway, everyone could hear his bones break.

“We have to help him,” Sally said. She ran back toward the vampire. The men followed, stakes and crosses raised. They closed the distance quickly, but not quickly enough. They got close enough that Josh could see the scars where Carlos had burned the vampire’s face. When Sally was about ten feet away, her stake raised to stab, the vampire grabbed his victim’s head in its hands, and calmly broke Thomas’s neck. He slumped along the wall, until he sprawled on the floor.

The vampire smiled at Sally. “I’ll see you soon, girl.”

She spat at him.

The vampire never wavered in its artificial, carnivorous smile. “The rest will die like they deserve, but you, my dear, will be mine forever.”

Josh stepped in front of Sally, raising both his weapons. “Like hell!” he said.

A moment later, Norris stepped up too. The vampire chuckled, faded into a mist, and drifted backward away from them.

Five people. Three stakes. Two crosses. One hallway.

Carlos held up his cross. “Care for round two, chickenshit? Or you scared of what else I’ll do to your face?”

The darkness seethed at them, and the very moisture in the air seemed to suck away, into the darkness, where it made a sound like wet fabric.

A moment later, a swarm of bats rushed past them, over their heads, rushing towards ad seg, and disappearing into the dark.

The five of them caught their breath. Carlos walked between Sally and Williams, touching the cross to their bare skin. They looked at him quizzically, but let him do it. The cross had no effect on them, and Carlos was satisfied.

“So,” said Carlos, “I guess we’re all still alive.”

*****

Out of all of those who were turned, he was the last to wake. The vampire had bitten him later than most of the others, but that wasn’t the only reason. When Ox Werden woke up three hours after his death, he was in agony.

Lying on the floor of the prison kitchen, Ox was aware of the pain where his guts had been torn out. But that wasn’t agonizing. Every other part of his body was worse. From head to toe, Ox felt as if he was on fire. His heightened sense of smell was overwhelmed—from the scent of his own charred flesh, and from the even more powerful scent of garlic.

He thrashed, knocking the large pot from his head, spilling the red tomato sauce across the floor. He tried screaming, but the sound that came out was hoarse and animalistic—he didn’t have the same voice he had once had. His mouth felt different.

Running his tongue along his new teeth, Ox realized instinctively what he had become. He was dead. He was risen. He was immortal. All over the cellblock, vampires were realizing just what they were and how hungry they felt. Ox didn’t have time to be hungry. He was in too much pain.

He tried to lift himself from the floor, but placing his weight onto his badly burned hands only made the pain spike. His hands, arms, face, and neck were burning—not melting like any burn victim Ox had ever seen, but burning away like a steak tossed into a fire. It took another wail of pain—this time involuntary—before Ox could stand.

The other vampire could change shape—he could be fog or bats or a wolf. Ox knew on some primal level that he did not possess these same skills. He was going to have to walk. There would be no transformation—no slipping away from the garlic that covered him, no fading into the shadows to heal. He grabbed a flat stainless steel pan from the rack and tried to look at his burns.

The mirror did not reflect him.

Stumbling into the front kitchen, Ox saw the body of Sonny—his best friend. Sonny had been torn to pieces by an animal. He lay in a pool of blood. The vampire had drained so much blood that Sonny would never wake again, not as a man nor as a beast. He was dead and staying that way. Standing over the body, Ox realized that a new smell was taking over, felt his sinuses opening. It was the olfactory equivalent of stepping into bright sunlight first thing in the morning; a smell so bright it almost hurt. It’s the blood, he thought, Jesus Christ I want the blood.

Ignoring the hunger, Ox stumbled further toward the mess hall. He had to find his way around the serving counter, but as he walked he started to fell his strength returning, and he stumbled less often.

Reaching the mess hall, Ox was finally bathed in the light of the emergency lamps. Between those lights and his impressive night vision, Ox could see things clear as day. He studied his hands. The skin was burned black. He poked at the back of his right hand. The flesh pressed inward, but the blackened skin cracked and crumbled. He peeled a section of black skin from himself the size of his thumbnail, and rubbed it between his finger and thumb. It crumbled to dust.

Feeling along his body, Ox dared to touch his face. The skin here was hard and dry, and crumbed when he pressed it. He closed one eye and used the open one to look at his nose. Black. He would never see his reflection, but he knew it now—his skin had been charred completely. Every spot of his body that touched the sauce—which was everywhere—was burning.

He turned back to the kitchen, moving quickly, panicking. He found the large dish sink in the back kitchen and tried the tap, hoping the water was still running. It was. He splashed it over his face and arms, and felt the garlic burn lessen. He scrubbed for almost five minutes, and managed to reduce the pain to the same level as the worst sunburn he’d ever had. The worst burns were his head, neck, and hands, but his chest and back were badly charred.

Stepping out of the kitchen again, Ox stopped at Sonny’s body. Dropping to his knees, he ran through his priorities. He had to get to the showers and stop the burning. He had to escape from this pod before the sun came up. And somewhere in between he had to feed. The hunger was taking over now—feeding on hot, fresh blood was a bigger priority than escaping to safety. Hopefully, someone who deserved to die was still alive out there. Someone like that spick Santos Vega, or that race traitor Josh Farewell. Yes, they’d make a good first kill. But first, the showers.

Content with his plan, Ox leaned his face into the corpse of his best friend, and started to eat.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

In the darkness of the classroom, it was impossible to know where Leo was hiding.

Santos had put up a good fight, but it ended quickly when Leo tossed him halfway across the room. Now he was trapped in the darkness. It was only fifteen feet to the door. Fifteen feet to that portal of light. But Leo was hiding, and waiting for Santos to make a move.

Santos couldn’t see a thing in this gloom, but he assumed that Leo’s eyes were better in the dark, now. Now that he’s a vampire. Fuck, that was weird to think.

Santos felt along the floor with his hands. He knew the stake was in here somewhere, but he couldn’t see it. He didn’t want to crawl around out of fear of bumping the furniture and attracting Leo. So he felt the floor, carefully, and inched along. All of his senses were at their maximum, listening for the slightest movement, feeling for a change in air pressure.

Where the fuck is Leo?

Santos’s hand found a desk. He crawled around it, slowly, but trying not to drag against the floor. He began to crawl along the next row of seats. Farther from the door. Farther into the dark.

He traced his fingertips along the dirty, sandy floor. He found the round metal legs chairs and the square legs of desks, but never found the weapon. He had to move father still. Ducking under a desk, he moved past the first row of seats and into the front of the classroom. He felt for the far wall, to give him some guidance. He found the smooth-painted cinderblocks and resumed his search.

Santos stopped often, looking to the doorway and the darkness, trying to force his eyes to see in the black. He couldn’t. There was no sign of Leo, although Santos knew for sure that he was still in the room.

In the front corner of the room, the doorway was merely a slit of light along the wall. It seemed very far away. As Santos neared this corner, his right hand brushed against something hard. The object was wood, and round. He closed his fingers around the stake. As he did so, the side of his hand rubbed against cold skin.

There was another man’s hand on the stake. A cold, dead hand. “Looking for something?” Leo hissed, his breath cold. The words came from mere inches in front of Santos’s face, where Leo was crouched, waiting for him.

Santos shouted in shock and lunged forward, the top of his skull slamming into Leo’s face. He felt his old rival’s hand loosen on the stake, and jerked it away. Instinctively, Santos swung the stake side-to-side, like a switchblade in a knife fight. Swiping for a slash, not a plunge into the chest. His swing whipped through the air but never found Leo.

Santos stood, and started to rush back to the doorway. Feeling along the desks with his left hand, he backpeddled until he found the space where the row of desks ended. He rushed through the middle of the classroom, flailing with the stake as he went.

At the back of the class, only steps from the doorway, Santos felt the stake strike fabric, then flesh, then felt the victim jump back and away. He threw himself toward the figure he had wounded, throwing a haymaker with the same hand that held the stake.

He missed, mostly. The butt-end of the stake jutting out from the bottom of his hand glanced off the side of Leo’s skull, bringing a yelp from the loathsome. That was all Santos needed, opening up enough time for him to dart out into the light once again. Turning back to the darkened rectangle of the classroom door, Santos raised his stake.

“Come on out, motherfucker. Let’s see how you do when I can see you.” He kept the stake cocked, standing about five feet from the doorway. There was only one way out for Leo, and Santos was in control of it now. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the light. You’re a bigger bitch in the afterlife than where you were alive. Is it some kinda personal hell? They make you live through eternity as a scar-faced little pussy?”

Santos heard Leo’s footsteps running, before Leo launched himself out of the darkness, headlong, arms extended, pouncing at Santos like a guard dog. He hit Santos hard in the sternum with a shoulder, and tackled him hard to the floor. Leo pinned Santos’s hips with his legs, then rose up enough to start throwing punches.

Baring his teeth, Leo hissed in rage as he unloaded inhumanly strong punches down at Santos. With his arms guarding his face, Santos left his body exposed. He felt his ribs crack. With a wild scream, Santos swung the stake up sideways, stabbing the wood two inches deep into the side of Leo’s neck. Leo snarled like an angry tiger, and swung a backhand slap into Santos’s face, and they both rolled with the punch. Leo collapsed off Santos, who held strong onto the stake, pulling it free from his enemy’s neck. Santos rolled over, cocking the stake for another swing, but Leo was already on his feet, clutching his bloody neck with both hands, and running for the stairs.

*****

Norris held one of Sally’s hands between both of his own. He kept shaking as he held her, squeezing hard enough that she was almost in pain.

“I found her, thank you, I found her,” he kept repeating. Sally didn’t know what to say to him.

They were still huddled in the corner of the secure corridor, at the entrance to the mess hall. Thomas Turner’s body lay a few paces down the hallway. Carlos looked at him.

“He really broke those doors down?”             

“Saw it myself,” said Williams. “Damnedest thing. Well, maybe not quite.”

“About ad seg,” Josh said to Sally. “Glad you’re not dead.”

“Thanks. Guess I didn’t need the keys,” she said, sheepishly.

“Are we good?” he asked.

Sally nodded to Josh, and gave him a smile that was weak and half-hearted, but genuine. She had dimples. Norris shot Josh an angry look, and squeezed Sally’s hand harder.

“We should hustle,” said Norris.

Williams looked at the Josh and Carlos, the inmates. “The stairs to the balcony are just inside-“

“We know,” Josh interrupted. “I’m the one who left the door open.” He couldn’t help but look at Sally as he thought of the guard station where they met.

“OK. Good.” Williams squeezed his broom-handle stake. “Everyone armed?”

Josh still had the small plastic cross, and the stake made from a pew. Carlos had his large wooden cross (which he could somehow hold despite his completely useless right arm), and Norris had his stake.

Norris looked at Josh. “Give your cross to Sally.”

“Hold on,” said Sally. She pulled her hand free from Norris, and jogged over to Thomas’s body. She traced her finger along his waistband, and found a stake tucked in the back of his pants. “Thanks, Tom.”

She returned to the group, and Norris immediately grabbed her hand again. Norris stared at them for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The look on his face was deadly serious. “OK. This is how it’ll work. Me and Sally up front where I can see everything and keep an eye on her.” He looked to Williams, “you and smartass take the rear, and we’ll keep the gimp in the middle. If he can keep up.”

“Hey, fuck you, ese.” Carlos spat back. “I can handle myself.”

“Whatever.” Norris turned his back, and started to lead them out into the mess hall. Despite his objection, Carlos followed him, followed by Williams and Josh.

As Carlos stepped through the doors, Norris stopped. “Wait,” he said, holding up an open hand. Everyone else froze.

“What?” Carlos whispered.

Norris turned to face him. “Trade me your cross for my stake.”

Carlos handed over the heavy cross. Norris reached out with the stake, and with a flicker of a glance toward Josh, he stabbed the sharp end of the stake into Carlos’s shoulder, tearing at the bullet hole. Before anyone could process what he was doing, Norris kicked Carlos back at Josh, and slammed the mess hall’s left door shut. Moving to the other door, Norris had to stop as Williams jumped out at him, screaming “What the hell?”

Norris clubbed Williams in the head with the heavy cross, knocking him back into the corridor, and slammed the second door closed. With the double-doors shut, Norris flicked the locks, sealing Carlos, Josh, and Williams in the corridor.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sally screamed. Norris jammed the wooden cross into the handles of the double-doors, creating a deadbolt, then he turned back, and punched Sally hard in the stomach, winding her. She doubled over in pain, and her boyfriend punched her hard in the back of the head, collapsing her to her knees.

“I found you,” Norris said, smiling.

“My master will be pleased.”