Vampire Apocalypse: A World Torn Asunder (Book 1) (2 page)

“What have we got, Jessie?” Jack
asked as she reached him.

“It’s the worst yet, Chief.”
Jess Walker was a handsome woman. She stood five-foot-five, with
broad shoulders and a trim waist. At first glance she seemed quite
ordinary, especially in a uniform that was designed to emphasise
respect and not her physical attributes. But as he approached her
Newton was momentarily struck by an intensity in her features that
he had not noticed before. A mass of the deepest red curls Jack had
ever seen defied her every attempt to imprison them beneath her
patrol cap and strands burst out here and there, emphasising the
paleness of her complexion. Her eyes were a dazzling green and they
seemed to shine with an inner fire that belied her diminutive
stature and held him in thrall for a moment before her voice
snapped him out of it.

“There’s four dead,” she
continued after she had taken a deep breath. “Sorry,” she faltered
again as the memory of the carnage caused bile to rise in her
throat.

Jack laid his hand on her
shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’ll check it out
myself and we’ll talk later. See if you can get a cup of coffee
from one of the neighbours.”

She nodded and Jack moved past
her towards the Grady’s house. The Grady family lived in a good
part of town and the houses were all well cared for, though the
once well-manicured lawns were now overgrown, ragged at the edges
and flowers spilled out of beds chaotically. No-one had time for
gardens anymore when whole fields had to be tended.

Two cars still sat in most of
the driveways though, with the current shortages these vehicles
were of little use to anyone. The Grady’s house was a bungalow, but
was one of the few on the street that had an attic conversion, and
the extension seemed to loom over him as he approached the door.
Four dead, he thought. Jesus, what have we got roaming our
streets?

After the second killing he had
called the FBI for help, but they had let him know in no uncertain
terms that they had enough to do without visiting every damned
state that had a homicide. Ever since the power had gone, each
state had pretty much been left to their own devices. It was
impossible to govern or police a country the size of America when
transport was reduced to horses and a few steam trains. Nuclear
powered and solar powered vehicles were few and far between, and
they were all used to strengthen the country’s defences against the
threat of invasion from Russia and China, who seemed to have
adapted much better to this new age. Newton doubted that either
country would risk an invasion; it was such a long way from Europe
by conventional means. But you never knew.

Jack shook himself from his
reverie as he passed through the door. The first thing that struck
him was the smell. It was a heady mix of excrement and a sickly
sweet odour that caught in his throat and made him gag. He fumbled
for his handkerchief to try and filter the stench but the flimsy
material wasn’t up to the task and he could feel the bile rise in
his throat. He gulped air through his mouth, and while this helped
him force the nausea down, the rank air dried his throat and
started a coughing fit that forced him to breathe in small, careful
breaths.

He took a moment to gather
himself before continuing on into the house and made his way
towards the glow of the gas lamp in the front room. The bodies, or
rather what was left of them, were strewn about the room. Jack
could see mangled flesh, bare bones and organs in the dull light,
although mercifully the pale glow covered the worst of the atrocity
in undulating shadows caused by the flickering of the flame as the
wick began to run dry of the precious fuel.

The flame stuttered once more
and then suddenly went out. Jack found himself alone in the room
and forced down the urge to turn and run out. It wouldn’t do for
the others to see him like that and he’d probably break his neck
anyway. It still amazed him how dark it was now that street lights
no longer provided a background glow. It was pitch dark in the
room, so much so that he could not see anything at all. There
wasn’t even a faint glow from outside and for a moment he lost his
bearings. Which way was he facing? Was the door behind him or to
his right? He felt his pulse quicken and the darkness felt like it
was closing in on him, as if it was alive and was coiling around
him ready to squeeze the life out of him.

Newton clenched his teeth and
forced himself to breath normally as he retraced his steps in his
mind. He was fairly certain that he had not turned in any direction
since he had entered the room so the door should be directly behind
him. He turned slowly, pointedly ignoring the grisly scenes that he
imagined all around him. He forced himself to breathe through his
mouth and slid his feet forward until he reached the door, and then
quickened his step until he felt the cool air from outside wash
over him.

His skin prickled and he
shivered, though whether it was from the sudden chill or the images
that still danced through his mind he couldn’t be sure. He assumed
that three of the dead would be Pat and Jillian Grady and their
daughter Jennifer, but who was the fourth? He put that mystery to
one side as he approached Jess again. She had obviously found a
kindly neighbour and now sat against her patrol car with her hands
wrapped around a steaming mug. He thought of the mangled remains in
the house and offered up silent thanks that it wouldn’t be him that
had to shift through the bodies to identify them.

Jess looked a lot better. Her
cheeks had small red blushes where the steam of the drink wafted
upwards, and she looked sheepish as she saw Jack approach.

“Sorry about that,” she began
but Jack waved it off.

“Nothing to apologise for,” he
interrupted. “I feel queasy myself. Any more of that coffee?” he
asked as the pungent aroma reached him.

She handed over a flask and a
mug and Jack continued as he poured. “What have we got?”

Jess put down her mug and
riffled through the pages in her notebook until she found what she
was looking for. “We got a call from Peter Hackett, that’s the
neighbour, at 2:05 this morning.”

Jack looked down at his watch
and saw the luminous dials show 3:15.

“He was very agitated, according
to despatch,” she continued. “He described the screaming from next
door as terrifying.”

“That’s a strange word to use to
describe what could have been a domestic disturbance,” Jack
interrupted.

“I thought that too,” Jess
agreed. “He rushed out from his house as we pulled up but insisted
he hadn’t gone into the house when I asked him, he said he was too
scared. After seeing the carnage inside, I can’t say that I blame
him. Anyway, he said that he had never heard anything so
ear-piercing or as frightening in all his life. The screams woke
him up and went on for a good ten minutes, said he only summoned up
the courage to call us when all went quiet again.”

“Anyone else hear the
noises?”

“We’re checking now with the
other neighbours but the Smiths are away and the next house is a
good way down the street.”

Jack grunted. He had known Peter
Hackett for years and didn’t suspect that he had anything to do
with the killings, for one thing he didn’t have the sheer strength
required to rip bodies apart like that, but he wanted to make sure
that all the bases were covered. There had been no new faces that
he was aware of in town in the last few months so it was more
likely that these killings were being done by someone that he
knew.

The thought made him sick. How
could any human being tear people apart like that, let alone
someone he knew, someone he may have shared a joke with or held a
door open for.

He shivered.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Seal up the
house and wait for Doc Sallis.” They didn’t have a forensic
department anymore, and didn’t have any power to run one even if
they had, so Doctor Jim Sallis formally retired but pressed back
into service when his young replacement had decided to jump state,
was the best they could come up with. Jack ran his hands through
his thinning hair, God damn it; this is no way to run an
investigation.

“Simmer down!” Dan Fogarty
banged a wooden gavel on the podium in front of him repeatedly in a
vain effort to be heard amid the bedlam in the hall. The air was
thick with smoke, both from cigarettes and from the numerous gas
lamps placed on both sides of the hall and along its length.
Smoking had had a huge uptake in the past few months and Fogarty
was worried about what they would do when the town’s supply ran
out. It was already dangerously low and tobacco commanded a high
price with the mobile traders that visited more and more
infrequently. His over-active imagination had already played out
the horrors of a whole town suffering cold turkey at the same
time.

Anyway, one problem at a time,
he thought as he pushed away that potential problem in favour of
the one at hand. He looked out over the sea of faces. Many of them
were familiar, all of them were scared. He banged his gavel
again.

“Please, we have a lot to get
through!” he shouted aloud, but far from the volume his deep voice
could command if needed, and slowly the room came to order. He
smiled to himself, pleased that he was still able to control a
room. Not bad for someone who had left home with nothing but the
clothes he wore as he had run from an abusive father and a drunken
mother. He had made a great life for himself since then. He had a
successful business and had risen to the position of Mayor in the
town over five years ago. He had done quite a lot for the town
before the crisis and liked to think that he had no small part in
keeping the community together since then in a country where bigger
towns were already deserted. They didn’t really have much going for
them as a town in this new world; they had no power, little fertile
or grazing land left that they had not already bartered, but
somehow the community had stayed together. They had enough food for
the coming winter and had organised, and paid for, enough power
from the nuclear plant to see them through the worst of the
weather, but it had taken the last of their good livestock and all
the land around their border. They would have very little left for
next year and beyond.

On top of all this they now
seemed to have a serial killer amongst them. This was something
that scared the people much more than any of their other worries.
They could fight against the hunger and the cold by working hard,
rationing and preparing less fertile land for next year’s harvest.
How could they protect themselves against a killer that seemed to
choose his victims randomly and with impunity?

In every case so far there had
been no sign of forced entry, and yet the bodies had been ripped
apart as if by an animal, although Doctor Sallis had assured him
that this was not the work of an animal. He sighed. He had decided
to call this meeting and lay all the information out to the town’s
inhabitants; he felt he owed them that much.

“Alright,” he continued. “I’ve
asked Doc Sallis to say a few words tonight, so if you have any
questions about the killings you’ll be able to ask him yourselves.
Just remember that we have children here tonight so don’t go
scaring them any more than they already are. Sheriff Newton is also
here,” he nodded to the front row where the Sheriff sat beside the
aforementioned doctor, “so he’ll give you an update on the
investigation itself.

“I have asked them both to give
you all the information they have, so there will be no cover-up or
keeping anything from you for your own good. We’re in this together
and I feel I owe you that much. However, I warn you now that I want
this meeting to be orderly.” He paused as he scanned the sea of
faces. “I know most of you are armed, and I can’t blame you for
that, but anyone getting out of hand will be dealt with quickly. I
remind you again that there are children here. Now, with that said,
I’ll pass you over to our good doctor.”

Fogarty nodded to the Doctor and
stepped down from the podium. There was a nervous shuffle of feet
around the room and a few coughs as people settled themselves and
this in turn sparked off a chorus of shushing as Sallis laid his
notes on the podium. Doc Sallis was a small, overweight man with
receding hair and a pinched face that seemed more at home with a
scowl than a smile. Despite this, the man was well liked and his
outward appearance was in total contrast to the man beneath the
skin. He might have the look of a grump but he was in fact a jovial
man that people found easy to relate to and was a particular
favourite with the children. What remained of his white hair was in
stark contrast to his dark skin and, as he stood on the podium he
suddenly looked far older than people realised. He had been the
town doctor for the last forty years and despite being past
retirement age had continued in the role without complaint. He was
well respected but the hush that settled over the audience had more
to do with his ashen appearance than anything else.

“Friends,” he began, his deep
voice cracking slightly under the intense scrutiny of the audience,
“I must confess that I am not entirely sure where to start.” He
smiled weakly before continuing. “As you know there have been four
incidents over the last week. I will leave it to our Sheriff to
explain the details surrounding the deaths; I will limit myself to
the method. I am mindful of our younger citizens so please don’t
ask for specific details as I will not give them. If you feel
compelled to delve into the unsavoury details you can ask me
later.” The look he cast around the audience left no one in any
doubt that they would want a very good reason to ask for those
details.

“The victims were all killed in
the same way - that is, death was caused by massive trauma and
blood loss. In short, they were torn apart. The strength needed for
this was far beyond what one would expect from a human being.”