Night Plague: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (14 page)

“Th-that…! This is sick!”

“Would you still say
that if that monster had sunk its teeth into your little girl on her way home from school?”

“He was a vampire! Swal
ow did him a favor!”

“Are there more? All it would take is a few guns and we could get rid of them.”

“Are you mad? They’re clearly still human! We can’t –”

“After this, I’ll never sleep again unless we do.”

“Kill them, kill them, kill them!”

Swal
ow kept talking, saying something about needing to destroy or disconnect the head, and the authorities being willing to stand with them, but Mason didn’t hear any of it.

All his senses honed in on Errol’s dead body. The carnage that made his vision swim, the gunshot that echoed in his ears, the tang of torn flesh and metal in his sensitive nostrils.

He stumbled away, no longer feeling the legs beneath him. It was a firm hand on his shoulder that kept him from toppling over. “Mason, Merril, let’s go.”

Martin. Mason
looked up at his brother’s face. His lips were flat and firm, but a shaking hand wrapped around Merril’s wrist, and the other grabbed his.

****

Mason huddled on the edge of the couch, knees to his chest. The only sounds were Merril’s whimpers and the click click click of Martin locking every door and window. She shivered and sobbed with closed eyes, as if watching the slaughter play out over and over again on the back of her lids. “W-was that boy really…?”

He
bit his lip but stayed silent.

“Are they real? Are they really out there?”

Martin stopped and put an uncharacteristically gentle hand on her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. You’re both safe as long as you stay with me, I promise.”

Oh, if only Martin knew. If he knew that his little brother was one of them – the one who’d killed the mayor’s son, no less – what would he say then? Would Martin throw him
out to the crowds happy to tear off his head? Would Martin put a bullet through his brain, himself?

No. He forced a deep breath. Paranoia was the opposite of logic, and that was what he needed most right now.
One two in, one two out.

Was this…was
all of this his fault, too? If his carelessness hadn’t riled up the rumors, would Swalow still have made his move? Would the mayor still have agreed to Swalow's madness if his son hadn't died?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He needed to go to the prison. He needed to make sure Sorrel and the others all knew what was going on. He needed to tell them all to get the hell out of there while their legs still moved.

He whimpered aloud without realizing it,
picturing what could happen if Swalow and whatever riot he patched together swept the prison with guns in hand. It…wasn’t as if he cared for the people there, but…

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“You don’t think they’ll come here, do you? What if they come after Mason?”

Merril’s words shattered his thoughts. For a beat, he almost believed she
knew, that she’d discovered his secret, until her next words made clear what she’d meant.

“The person who killed the mayor’s son was a boy his age with pale skin and black hair, right? Everyone’s gone mad! What if they start thinking it’s him? What if they think he’s…?”

Mason leaned closer and wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t say anything, letting his chin rest atop her head while her breasts and brow pressed against him, but her voice dissolved into sobs. He forced himself to keep breathing, forced his chest to rise and fall.

“That isn’t going to happen.” Martin ground his jaw. “As long as we stay here, all of this will pass by outside our door.”

Merril raised her green eyes to meet Mason’s brown ones. “I won’t let them take you. I won’t!” She shook her head. If they did decide to go after him, there was absolutely nothing the sickly girl could do, but her words sent out a shiver of ice and heat.

“I mean, the thought of you killing someone, it’s…” She swallowed. “They won’t think that, right? That’s impossible! It’s…!”

If guilt had weighed down his shoulders before, this time it broke them. He tightened his grip around her thin shape. He suddenly didn’t want to let her go. If he did, how did he know he’d ever get her back again?

“I doubt anyone even thinks about me at all.” He tried to paint a smile. If he ever needed to manage a convincing lie, it was now. “Being a
social reject does have some perks, huh?”

She sniffed, but smiled just slightly.

Her body was warm against his – thank God, he’d fed recently. Her chest fluttered raggedly and her heart beat like a drum, melodies he hadn’t felt so clearly in a long time. His lungs were still and his heart was silent. His body was colorless and cold.

How could she not notice? How could she be so blind?

But she was as oblivious as ever. He was her Mason, after all. She was his Merril.

His fingers clenched the fabric of her lilac blouse.

Images of Swalow blowing Sorrel’s head off burned at the back of his skull, but he pushed them out. There was no way he could just ignore what was going on outside, but there was no way he could leave that night, either. It would have to wait until morning.

That evening, he simply closed his eyes. He cried. He cried for everything he should’ve cried for long ago. For the life he’d hated with Martin. For the future he’d lost four years ago.
For his mother. For Merril. For Sorrel. For himself. For what he’d seen and what he knew was coming.

Chapter Eleven: The Evening Seed

It was raining, wet cement illuminated only by dirty yellow streetlamps. Light cut off completely as Mason veered from the sidewalk and onto the dirt road leading to the prison.

He’d left early, while Martin and Merril slept. He hadn’t passed many people, but he’d avoided downtown and walked with his head down. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone could pounce with each step he took
. Heh. Who was the mouse, now?

Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe the whole incident would melt into nothing but
a fresh batch of ill-organized rumors.

Any hope of that died the moment he reached the prison. The residents were already gathered
by the front gate, one segment waiting by Alex while the rest clung to Dale.

The woman outstretched her arms. “What would you suggest then,
boss
? Would you have us wait here for them to make a move? We have power, but they have numbers. If we’re going to win, we have to strike first, before they have the chance to prepare!”

“There is no ‘winning’, Alex!” Dale’s voice was just as loud. “This isn’t a damn game!”

“Oh? The prize is our lives, so I’d say this is a competition as high-staked as any. You call yourself our leader, but would you have us all die like Errol?”

Mason stopped
. Would it be better to turn around and avoid getting involved? They already knew everything. He could still slink away. But…

Alex leaned in
on Dale. “We can’t hide here forever! They’ll find us, and we’ll lose our future. We're the world's successors, but if we want what's ours, it’s time for us to reach out and take it!”

Dale
pushed forward, bridging what remained of the gap between them. “Murder won’t stop murder. We don’t want war. If we attack now, we’ll be proving all of them right!”

“Oh? So you’re going to pretend we aren’t monsters, then? Humans have always been a race of murderers and thieves – we’re nothing but the next evolution. Nature runs by survival of the fittest. It always has. And now that title belongs to us.” She met the eyes watching her
, one by one. “We are the seed that will inherit everything humans are about to leave behind, but to reap our harvest, we must plant our crop now!” She paused, filling her lungs with air and noise before bellowing it out. “We must strike first! We must show them just what kind of ‘monsters’ we are!”

Clamor
rose from the crowd. Vampires reached for the sun with cheers and shouts while others cowered or cried out in protest.

A particularly loud, high-pitched howl grabbed Mason’s ears. A girl with brown, pony-tailed hair stood by Alex, throwing her fist in the air. Her grayish blue eyes were bright, eager…and hungry.

Sorrel.

Something inside him twinged, like a string wound far too tightly.

Sorrel was one of Alex’s ‘people’?

She paused, their gazes meeting. Something flickered there, just briefly. Was it guilt? She folded her hands and looked away, but not before her surprise caught the eyes of a few others nearby.

Alex spun his way with a smirk. “Oh, and who do we have here? The runner who set the city up in arms with his distinguished palate?”

Mason stared back defiantly, silent.

Her lips curled. “Quite bold, really. You escaped without getting caught too, unlike my poor Errol. Sorrel is right. You have natural talent, and we could use that on our side. What do you say?”

He didn’t dignify the question with an answer. “Are you…going to hurt people?”

She laughed. “Why, yes. Silly child, haven’t you been listening at all? Violence is the only universal currency. And after what they did to Errol, they brought this on themselves, don’t you think? If we don’t go after them, they’ll go after us.”

“
You're wrong!” An image of Merril flashed through his head. “Most people aren't like that! You can’t just –”

She turned away. “Very well, then.
I guess I underestimated you. How disappointing.” Another wide glance at the followers gathered around her. “Let’s move. We wait for no man and no man waits for us!”

They were going to hurt people. People like Merril. Like Martin. Like the classmates who sat across from him at lunch, the old woman who always walked her dogs
in front of his house, and the little kids who played tag in the yard next-door. People who wanted nothing more than to live out their last years in peace.

His
hands hardened into fists. “Just because we’ve been swallowed up by murder doesn’t mean we have to take the rest of the world with us!”

She
stopped, but didn’t turn back.

“They don’t have long. If we’re the future, then isn’t our goal to survive, not to kill?” His lungs ached
- it was the first time he'd turned them up so loud since he'd stopped breathing.

Alex just laughed. “To kill is to survive. We’re all animals
, both humans and vampires alike. A hunter has to claim its territory. We’ll clean out this town, gain as many newcomers as we can, then leave for a place with less hostile prey.” She shot him a last grin. “Stay here with the rest of the children, boy.”

She
was off with wild speed, leaping across the soil with the grace of not a cat, but a tiger. Others followed, trailing the woman they’d chosen as their leader, even as Dale tried to stop them. His pleas slipped meaninglessly through Mason’s ears while he watched them surge into the city like a pack of wolves.

Merril.
Martin. Was this…really happening? This couldn’t be happening!

All he’d wanted was to live his life as normally as possible, and whether Alex succeeded or not, that simple hope was about to be destroyed.

He spun towards the familiar figure who’d lingered behind. Her eyes met his, pleading soundlessly with him to come.

He shook his head. “Sorrel…!”

“I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes. “I spent my human life doing nothing but sitting and watching, at the mercy of everyone else.” A resolute gray hardened her eyes when she opened them. “I won’t spend this one the same way. Maybe you shouldn't, either.”

Then she was gone
, joining the rest in a group about fifteen strong. Alex had claimed over half the prison.

For a
long time, Mason just stared, watching them carry away any hope he’d had left of a normal life. It took a while for Dale’s voice to cut through the ice in his head.

“…Stop! Stop them! If they reveal
themselves, it’s all over! They may be the one’s who’ll start it, but it’s the humans who’ll end it! Idiots!” He whirled on those who remained and spat out a bunch of names that didn’t mean much to Mason. “All of you, come with me! The rest of you, stay and protect our scientists and the synthetic blood project. That’s the key to our future, not slaughter – keep it safe at any cost. You hear me?”

Several vamps nodded, others rushed to join their leader.
And after another round of shouts and whispers, most of the prison departed.

Mason half-e
xpected to hear his name called, but he never did. It didn't matter. He still found his legs keeping pace with the others’, as they traced Alex’s footprints down the long dirt road.

****

The sidewalk smelt of blood by the time they reached the road
, its tang heavy in the musty morning air. A man lay dead on the street, crimson staining his work suit and pooling with the rain beneath him. A woman matched him not a few feet away, and beyond her was a young man with a ripped backpack resting beside him, spilling out pencils and paper like innards.

Mason didn’t feel his legs anymore
. He didn't feel connected to his body at all, like this was nothing but an unpleasant dream born of last night’s fears.

They’d…really killed those people. Not in defense, not even to satisfy thirst. It was nothing but cold-blooded murder. The empty bodies were unarmed, dressed only for work and school.
Innocent. Just like the boy slain at the side of his bed.

A
distant scream broke the silence and slowly summoned a chorus. The vampires weren’t even stopping to drink. No, the wasted blood spilt all over the cement testified for that. Their intention was simple: carnage. Death. To take as many lives as possible in as little time as possible, as if it really was all some sick game. His body flushed with heat, like it was still alive.

“Go in groups of three.” Dale urged them forward. “Do whatever you have to do to stop them!”

The others did as he ordered, but Mason strayed away to the road leading to his house. “Sorrel!” His eyes whipped from east to west, but there was no sign of her or anyone else. There wasn’t so much as a movement once he broke away from the crowd. The whole street was eerily silent, as if every ounce of life was already gone. “
Sorrel
!”

Why did he care so much? Why was he even looking for her? This was the girl who’d killed him. Who’d brought him into this wretched game!

But…he remembered the feline sparkle in her eyes and her equally feline grace. The haunting, innocent smile lighting her pale lips. The sorrow in her voice when she’d spoken of her own death and the life she’d lived before it. The way she’d kept him alive. But more than anything, he remembered the hope on her face as she’d talked about their new future.

Could he really just let her throw that future away?

He gulped down a big rush of air. “Sorrel!”

“Help!
Someone! Help…!”

He spun, but the cry hadn’t been Sorrel’s. It didn’t belong to anyone he recognized.

“Help! G-get off! Get him off!”

He followed t
he voice without thinking, the screech grabbing him with cold fingers. It sounded close, but he didn’t see anything until a wordless wail drew him to a nearby fence. Peering through the posts, he saw a woman in what looked like her own backyard. With her was a vampire he recognized as Errol’s old companion, Steve, and in her hands was a garden rake.

The wide-eyed human
swung it at the vampire's chest, tearing off shreds of his shirt and the flesh underneath. He didn’t bleed. He flinched, but it wasn’t enough to hold him off. His fangs reached for her neck and his arms reached for her shoulders.

Mason’s body reacted before his mind could. It wasn’t logical. In
fact, it was very, very stupid, but he leapt for the larger man. He’d always been weak – the person picked last for sports teams and the person forced to remove a few weights from the machines in the school gym. As a vampire, he’d been gifted strength and agility greater than any human’s, but against one of his own, he was as small and weak as ever. He had just enough power to throw Steve to the side.

The bigger vampire
kept his footing, countering with a spin that threw the smaller to the grass below. He flailed, struggling to get back up, but he wasn't fast enough.

A foot came down on his rib cage, knocking away whatever air he had left and pinning him down
. He grimaced, trying not to whimper. He pushed against the boot, arms shaking from effort. He twisted his muscles, fighting to pull away. But it was useless. He simply wasn’t strong enough.

“Traitor!”
Steve knelt, his nostrils flaring with the word. One of his hands grabbed Mason's chin and the other curled around his shoulder. "We were fine until you showed up! If you'd listened to us, if you hadn't fucked up, then Errol wouldn't have died!"

A wave of fear
hit Mason in the back of the head when he realized just where Steve’s hands were – if he chose to, he could easily yank his head from his shoulders or twist it off his neck.

He screamed. His only answer was a dull, sickening thud.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the rake biting into Steve’s head. The woman trembled, her fingers wrapped so tightly around the wooden handle that her knuckles turned white. For a few beats, the attacker’s legs dangled uselessly beneath him. Then he fell. Mason shuddered as the body came down just inches from him.

He locked eyes with her, time stopping. The conflict had passed so quickly that it’d barely registered in his mind, but in one way or another, he and the human had saved each other’s lives.

Unfortunately, time pausing was only a cruel illusion.

Two more vampires burst over the fence
and stopped at the sight of Steve's still body. Something must’ve splattered on Mason’s face – when they saw his, theirs twisted in anger.

One charged for the woman, the other charged for him.

Mason yelped, the bigger man grasping his already aching shoulders. The woman screamed too, her voice hitting his ears before cutting off. Shit. He kicked, shoved, struggled. He fought in vain to escape the grip. A fist smacked into his forehead and swirled his vision. Then came another. And another, each with increasing force.

Was the attacker trying to smash his skull?

“Stop!
Stop
!” He held up his arms, desperately shielding his only weak point.