Blood Stream (A Short Story)
Read Blood Stream (A Short Story) Online
Authors: M.D. Bowden
Gateway to Faerie:
Gateway to Faerie
Bell Stone
The Two Vampires:
Dark Wine
Dark Blood
Dark Love
Dark Moors
Dark Flame – A Short Story
Hunters Among Us:
Tempted by Fire
Fighting the Flame
Non-fiction:
What’s It
Really
Like? Pregnancy & Birth
Blood Stream
By M.D. Bowden
Copyright
© M.D. Bowden 2014
All Rights Reserved.
M.D. Bowden has asserted her moral rights to be identified as author of this work.
No part of this work may be reproduced without prior permission in writing from the author.
All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
for those of you who just love the paranormal, as I do
I HOLD OUT
my arm. Pliant. A pliant fool. I avert my gaze as his teeth pierce the skin of my inner wrist. I feel a twinge of pain, like a vaccine – sharp at first, but quickly dulling until the moment the needle is withdrawn. I refuse to look his way while he feeds. I can’t bear to see his flat pupils red with blood lust.
As I listen to him swallowing my blood,
with each gulp my mind clouds a little more, and the strength of his grip becomes an afterthought when compared to the feeling that I’m being used. I’ve found the best thing to do in a situation like this is to pretend it’s not happening, to close my eyes and think of when things were different.
‘
Abbi, get over here right now!’ my mum said, so long ago, yet it’s something I will never forget; that was the day my life changed.
I groan. ‘See you later Meme,’ I whisper, giving her a quick grin before shooting across the playground to my mother’s side.
She gives me a one-armed hug, which I wriggle out of. ‘Mum, people will see,’ I mutter, blushing.
She kisses
the top of my head before letting me go.
‘So what’s up?’ I ask.
‘We’ll talk about it at home.’
Huh.
I furrow my forehead, wondering what could be the matter, as I walk silently by her side. I kick leaves as we stroll up the garden path, noticing dad’s car parked in the street, and shoot mum a query glance. She shakes her head, and for the first time I notice that she looks worried.
‘What’s wrong mum?’
‘Let’s all sit down together and we’ll fill you in,’ my dad says, hurrying out of the garage, surprising me – he’s usually the silent laid-back type.
I take a seat at the kitchen table, next to
Mark, my gangly older brother. The place radiates of home, comfort, love. I raise my eyebrows at my bro, but he just shrugs, clueless. We both turn toward our parents, wondering what their unusual behaviour is hiding.
They exchange a quick look
, which I fail to interpret, and then mum opens up. ‘We’ve got to go away,’ she says, and when I’m about to butt in with a million questions, she adds, ‘tomorrow.’
‘Where are we going?’ my brother asks.
He barely sounds interested.
‘Remember that log cabin of your grandparents?’
I don’t, but ignore that, my eyes flitting between my parents. ‘A holiday?’ We haven’t been away in years, and I feel a bubble of excitement.
Mum nods, but she looks strange, unsettled maybe.
‘For how long?’ I ask.
‘Oh, we’ll see – just pack everything you can and you’ll be fine.’
Dad shoos us off before we can ask more questions, and starts talking to mum. My brother disappears to his room, giving me another shrug. He doesn’t look concerned, but I can’t help feel mum and dad aren’t telling us everything. I leave the door open a crack and stand there, listening.
For a second I can’t hear anything but mu
ffled voices, but then mum says, ‘Do you think we’ll be safe there?’
After a pause my dad replies, ‘I don’t know.’
Another sharp pain brings me back to the present, and
his
fingers loosen on my arm. The fingers of Mitchel, the
vampire
who took me that night. The last night I saw my real family.
‘Goodnight,’ Mitchel says, his voice like lava, thick and burning.
I glance up, relieved his eyes have returned to their usual glossy black, and give him a curt nod, and then, head bowed, I walk from the confines of his pavilion.
I wipe away tears as s
oon as I’m out of his sight, in the dark, and glance up at the clear evening sky. I can see Orion’s belt on the horizon, three stars glinting, reminding me that there’s more to life than this.
There’s still hope.
I look back down and catch the eyes of a guard on me. A creepy bloodthirsty guard – not that he’d dare to touch me – he knows I belong to Mitchel.
Apart from the guards,
and Mitchel, it sounds like everyone is asleep. I quickly glance around the camp, at the other pavilions, the open fires, and at the tents of my fellow prisoners, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought of what we’ve become; no more than dinner for monsters.
I
step lightly over the dry heathland, taking care to avoid the numerous taught guy ropes, not easy in the dark, and slowly unzip the front of my tent. I slide into my sleeping bag, careful not to wake Gemma, and tuck a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. Gently I kiss her forehead, and then lay back against my pillow, staring listlessly at the arching canvas, sinking deeper into depression, wishing my life had at least some meaning.
After a while I realise how quiet the camp is
, eerily so. I strain my ears, listening for anything beyond the thudding of my heart. But nope – nothing. The woods are silent tonight, the animals sleeping. A sudden pang of unease grips me. I stop breathing and listen harder – but no, still nothing.
I inhale slowly and force my eyes closed. I need to get to sleep – tomorrow Gemma and I are on kitchen duty
.
The quiet is disturbed by hushed voices, my heart jumps into my throat and
I cock my head to listen. I hear a muffled curse and sounds of a scuffle, and feet pounding past my tent. Carefully I unzip the door and peek around the corner.
The guard who was watching me is lock
ed in a choke hold at the camp boarders, by another vampire I’d guess, as I don’t reckon a human could overpower a monster. Further off other guards are fighting. Immediately my eyes dart the other way, and I see the guards at the other side of our camp have abandoned their posts.
‘Gemma, wake up, but be quiet,” I whisper, shaking her shoulder.
‘Wassa matter?’ she mumbles.
‘Get your shoes on and make sure you’re wrapped up warm. We’re going to escape!’
SHE BLINKS FOR
a second, dazed, and rubs her eyes.
I glare at her.
‘We need to hurry.’
Her eyes open wide and she gives me a quick nod, then springs into action, pulling on boots and coat
, as I do the same. We are both already dressed.
Looking over our shoulders’ we sneak from the camp, into the darkness of the forest. Gemma’s breaths are coming in terrified little gasps.
‘Shhh,’ I say, taking her hand in my own, leading her deeper under the canopy of the treetops. ‘We need to get as far away from the camp as possible, or they’ll find us.’
‘But who was that, what was going on?’
‘I’ve no-idea, a battle for territory, or for . . . blood slaves?’ I shiver, and Gemma squeezes my hand. The vampires don’t feed off Gemma, they don’t do that until their slaves hit their twelfth birthday. Gemma is eleven. She never talks about it, but I know she fears being in my position. If this works, if we can get away . . . we will both be saved.
‘I can’t hear them anymore,’ Gemma says.
‘No, but we must continue.’ I get down on my knees. ‘Do you think you can walk until dawn?’
It is too dark to see her face, but I feel the movement as she shakes her head.
‘How about one more hour? If we walk that far we can shelter under a tree and sleep the rest of the night, but then we must continue.’
‘But where will we go?’
‘Let’s find a town, if we can get to a phone . . .’
For a moment we are both quiet, as the implications of that one thing sink in . . . we could find our families. We could lead
normal lives.
‘OK,’ Gemma says, her dainty voice breaking.
I reach out and pull her against my chest. ‘We will be all right. I promise I’ll look after you.’
‘What about everyone else in the camp?’
‘I don’t know. We can’t help them now, but if we get free, if we find people, I can guide them back here and we can save them. But right now we need to keep walking. So, will you do it, one more hour?’
‘OK, I’ll try,
’ she says, through her sleepiness, her voice sweet and heart-melting.
It is eerie walking in the pitch black
, but Gemma’s presence by my side is comforting, her fragile hand mine to take care of. The responsibility that brings not only scares me, it strengthens me too.
Now we are away from the camp
, the sounds of the night have returned. I can hear animals scuttling nearby, and a high pitched buzzing near my ear, which I bat away. Our footsteps sound loud even though we are being careful, slow. I walk with one arm extended, feeling my way past trees and bushes.
‘Ow,’ complains Gemma. ‘Something’s caught my hair.’
‘Hang on.’ I get down on my knees and feel for the back of her head, until a prick pierces my skin. ‘I think it’s a blackberry bush,’ I say, fiddling with her hair. ‘There you go.’
‘Thanks
Abbi.’
‘No prob.’
And then back to the walking, or should I say
senseless stumbling
.
‘
Abbi?’
‘M
mmm?’
‘Are you scared?’
‘I’m not sure . . . kind of I guess. But not as scared as I thought I’d be.’
‘I’m scared.’
‘What are you scared of?’
‘I’m scared they’ll catch us, that they’ll be angry.’
‘Shhh, we won’t let them catch us. Deal?’ I know I can’t promise this, and I wish I didn’t have to deceive her, but I want to protect her. I want her to be happy.
She giggles. ‘Deal.’
As we walk on we stay quiet, focused on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over roots and brambles. A couple of times we each fall, but avoid any major injuries.
After a while Gemma says, ‘
Abbi, I’m so tired, please can we stop?’
‘OK little one.’
I don’t know these woods at all, I don’t even have any idea what part of the country we are in. Every time our camp has moved, I’ve been blindfolded.
I feel around with my feet, seeing if our current spot is t
horn free. ‘Let’s sleep here,’ I say, not convinced I’m going to find a better option. We’ll have to trust the darkness to protect us.
I lie down on my side, using my bag as a pillow, and Gemma lies next to me. I pull her against my chest and wrap my coat around her when I notice she’s shivering.
‘Gemma?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you remember when you were taken?’
‘No. I’ve told you that before.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I’d hoped getting away from the vampires might trigger her to open up. It would be so good to know what the world was like after I was taken. To know what we’re in for now. ‘Night night,’ I whisper. ‘Sweet dreams.’
‘Night
Abbi.’ For a moment she’s quiet, but then she says, ‘Thank you for bringing me with you.’
‘I couldn’t leave you behind, you’re my sister now.’
Her breathing quickly slows and becomes rhythmic, but my mind is racing. I keep thinking about a conversation I had with Mitchel in the early days, before he repulsed me. Before he started to feed off me.
‘Why did you take me?’ I remember challenging him. That was before the hopelessness kicked in, when I still had my zest.
He studied me thoughtfully, his eyes a glossy ember. ‘I wanted to protect you.’
‘But protect me from what
?’
‘The world. You had no-one.’
‘But I did! What about my mum and dad and brother?’
‘They were dead.’ He said that with no sympathy. To him it was a simple fact.
‘But they weren’t, if they were dead it was because
you
killed them!’
‘No, that’s not true. We were searching the town for survivors. You were the only one we found.
’
‘You’re lying.’
His eyes flashed at me, but at no point did he deny what he said.
I open my eyes, almost believing I’ll find him
watching me now, but he’s not here, or if he is I can’t see him. It’s creepy sleeping outside, no knowledge as to where we are or what might be nearby. I’m used to hearing animals at night, as I’ve been sleeping in a tent for so many years now, but it’s different with no protection other than my coat. I feel paranoid that if I fall asleep
things
will crawl over us.
I
suppress a nervous shake, trying not to disturb Gemma. Then the worst thought I ever have enters my mind – the thought I try to never think.
What if Mitchel was telling the truth?