Chapter 18 - Danger

Paul died slowly. Coughing and spluttering he drifted in and out of consciousness for six days. Finally, his eyes closed and his breathing became shallower.

Gail had been expecting it for days and was well prepared when the time came. She was determined to be near her man and she had planned it so that she could always be near him.

That night she carefully cut the lawn into turf and began to dig. She worked steadily throughout the night and as the morning came round, she was to be found sleeping peacefully on a large mound of dirt next to the weighting shallow grave.

She built a coffin out of cheep plywood and other materials that sat in her shed. She lined it with a woollen blanket and decorated it lovingly. She worked without rest until nightfall. A little after dark, it was ready and she placed it in the hole.

She went upstairs to where her lover lay and blew out the candles and took down the cross. Then she gathered up the flowers and took them to the homemade coffin. She sprinkled them in and then returned for her beloved.

“I’m sorry, bunny,” she whispered to him, “this will not be dignified.”

She placed each arm under his and pulled him from the bed.

Panting and wheezing she dragged him into the garden and lovingly laid him on the bed of flowers.

After straightening his clothes and brushing his hair she placed the lid on the box and began to push the soil on top. There was extra soil left over and she dragged the thick plastic groundsheet to the back of her garden where she pilled it around whatever there was to find.

It was just a few hours before light by the time she had finished and laid the turf on the space where her lover was buried.

She went to bed muddy and weeping.

The empty house next to the lab complex was beginning to smell. The foul odour of vomit and mouldy food would soon be detectable outside of the house. Inside three bodies lay twisted and contorted in the front room.

At first glance, the casual observer would see three dead people. However, in one corner was a camp bed and on the camp bed one of the victims twitched a little.

Luke slowly became aware. Luke became aware that he was no longer hurting. He lay as he was the sounds of the world washing about him. He did not move for he had no reason to.

His limbs twitched slightly as his body began to awaken.

Margaret sat alone on the roof of the old house. The night had never looked so beautiful and the moon (when it bothered to show from behind the clouds) had never looked so pale and consumptive. Her life was the now her ultimate dream, she was the beautiful gothic princess and she would rule the night forever.

She looked down at the occasional passer-by and tried not to feel too giddy. Heights still made her nervous but it had taken her almost three hours and a change of clothes to get up here.

She ran her tongue over her new teeth. How sharp they felt and so very pointed. She would be able to feed for herself now. She gave a practice snarl and smiled at the night. Her first victim would not be beautiful but evil so she could feel the passing of a bad person from this world. It would be that silly Peter boy that had pestered her on and off for what had seemed like her whole life.

Maggie, the stalker of the night - loving the evil and the good, taking them in darkness to their end. She loved the very sound of it.

Luke’s body shook and he knew that he would need to stand if only to bring back the life to his now tingling limbs.

However, he discovered that he could not yet move. He continued to lie where he was. No thought entered his mind as to how he came to be where he was or of what was happening. He could see little of the room but his eyes were open. As far as he knew had always been here.

Little seemed to matter beyond the irritation of the tingling I his limbs and even that lacked any urgency.

Luke lay still and knew only that his name was probably Luke. It did not matter though.

Time passed and the sun rose. Luke slept in and dreamed of riding the night and eating the minds of those who stood against him.

The day began and people went about their business. Flies flew about the room where Luke lay sleeping and the stench of stale smoke, vomit, urine and long ago spilled vodka was given fresh life by the warmth of the day.

People passed by outside unaware and the day moved inevitably onward. A breeze stired up for a while and clouds threatened rain.

Car’s drove on roads and people walked and went by bus to homes and shops and back to homes and generally, humanity continued the way it had always had.

The drew to the inevitable close and the sun set.

Maggie awoke from her long sleep and sat up. The first order of the day or night was still the ever time consuming ritual of washing and dressing and beautification. She chose first to wear a pure black dress which was more lace than anything else but the realisations born of the practical experience of the night before caused her to think twice. She still wore the dress but chose her steal toe-caped boots over the more elegant shoes she had first considered.

Tonight, she swore, Peter was going to get his silly little wish and his doom all in one day. Lucky boy.

John had arrived home to the smell of cooking. He breathed in deep and enjoyed the smell - it was going to be a roast chicken tonight and he was looking forward to it.

“No sign of you brother,” called his wife from the kitchen, “I should’a known better than to expect his help.”

“He said he’d be here,” said John, “he’s a little flaky but his no Jackson Dent, something must have come up.”

“It better have or he might just get a short sharp slap from me.”

Peter hurried along, he knew he was late, he was meant to have been at his brother’s house hours ago. He had promised his brother he would help his wife with the cooking. Damn it, he thought, why do I have to be so into my books – I should have just put the silly thing down at the end of chapter four. Admittedly, it had been a good book about a war in the realms of the undead.

He knew there was no point in running and so he walked slowly through the early night enjoying the night-air and day dreaming about being powerful. So good was the dream, that he did not spot Maggie until she was just a few feet in front of him.

“Hello, Peter.” She said.

Peter smiled. “Hello Maggie,” he said, “you look stunning tonight as unusual.”

Creep, thought Margaret but she simply said: “so where are you going?”

“My brothers house for a bite to eat.” He said.

“I could do with a bite,” said Margaret smiling slightly, “may I come with you.”

“Sure, yeah… I mean of course.” Blurted peter taken aback. He had grown so used to Maggie’s knock-backs and sarcastic comments that he was totally blind-sided by this new approach. Maggie was his dream woman she was like a goddess of the night

She linked his arm through his and they walked in silence together. In silence because Peter could not think of one thing to say. He had dreamed about a moment like this for years. So long had he wanted to be near Maggie that he had simply given up hope. He no longer wrote pinning poetry or love letters that he usually never sent.

They continued still in silence. In silence because Margaret could not bring herself to talk to this boy. He was such a want to be nightling but with none of the subtle trimming that she had come to look at. It sickened her as it always had.

Luke sat up on the bed. A thousand screams fading from his ears as the dream world departed. Non of it made any sense and it bothered him for reasons he did not understand. He could remember nothing. The world and his mind were blanks.

He lay back down again. His body was weak and he did not know how to react. As he lay there, he sensed twitching movements in the room. He sat up and looked at the body of Jackson Dent.

At once, he knew his name and realised that he was not quite dead. His mind started to focus and he realised that the room stank he ran from the room and was sick on the back doorstep gasping the clean night air.

Jackson’s mind swirled with fictions and images that made no sense to him. He was becoming aware of his body again and that it felt strange. He knew he could not move but he knew in the same way a dieing animal knows things. His mind drifted back into the dream state and the twitching slowly stopped.

Maggie knocked on the door and a few moments later, it opened. A dull housewife looking woman greeted them and Maggie instantly pitied her. Peter introduced his new companion and the housewife led them in.

The house was somewhat twee and lacked any poetry. It was somehow exactly the modern foolishness she had come to expect from this family.

“Peter has a girl with him.” Said Sue.

“Good for him it is about time he had a girl friend.”

“Not so fast big bro.” Said Peter.

John turned around: “You’re dead,” he said.

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Chapter 17 – Conclusive Change

Jackson opened his eyes. The room was spinning a little and the smell of vomit hit his nostrils. Luke had already stopped coughing and now simply lay there limp and unmoving. Angelina seemed to be unconscious but breathing.

How many days had been since anyone had spoken to anyone else? How many days since they last lit the fire?

Something at the back of his mind told him that it had been longer than five sunrises; possibly seven and maybe more. Jackson looked at the blanketed window. At some stage, someone had improved it. No light shone through. It was cold and dark and yet Jackson found that he could see quite well. He looked at Angelina; she lay on the makeshift bed with a blanket under her. She was naked but for a pair of skimpy knickers.

It was an arresting sight and would have been better were her skin not so drawn, pale, blotchy and clammy. She looked as if she was long over due for death. It was not sexy any more - it was revolting.

Jackson looked away. He looked at Luke covered and still with one arm hanging over the side of the camp bed. Jackson pulled himself closer to Luke. Every part of his body hurt as he moved and he simply wished the pain would stop.

Jackson reached for Luke’s wrist and tried to feel for a pulse. He tried for a very long time so that he could not tell what was his imagination and what was his sense of touch. It seemed every now and then he had found it but then he realised he was wrong. In the end, he had to admit to himself that he had not found a pulse. He had found faint something’s that had turned out to be wishful thinking.

Luke was dead.

The terminal conclusion sank into Jackson’s mind. The bishop developed early had fallen. What part had he been in the great life sized chess game? Had Jackson Dent been a pawn or something more significant? He sank down and lay where he fell. He would never know what part he had played. He would never know the feel of his Angel Queen. He would die and it would all have been for nothing. He would die and he would have achieved nothing. He would not have even won his lady nor found out why Luke had done what he had.

Jackson knew he tasted despair as he gave himself up to sleep.

Gail mopped the forehead of her man. He had been like this for days. It was quite the worst flu she had ever seen. But he was her man now and she would take good care of him. She had taken care of him since he became ill over six days ago and she would continue to take care of him.

He stirred a little and she attentively stroked his hand.

“It is all going to be fine.” She told him.

Anabellus stood in the cemetery – he liked it here where people generally didn’t bustle. It was peaceful and restful and although a nice place to visit, he would not want to live there.

His bride stood beside him. She was dressed clothes that were not entirely appropriate or practical it was a dress made of crushed velvet of two different colours: black and deep purple. It looked amazing on her and showed he shoulders and cleavage wonderfully in the mood light but caught on the brambles and every little thing that protruded at a strange angle. It already had three little rips at the hem and a little mud splattered up the back.

She had wandered the nights mindlessly for a time and might have done so forever if Anabellus had not found her. The night seemed so lively and she felt the urge to write dark poetry.

Anabellus held her close, she felt full and could not remember a time when she had feasted as she had that night. Anabellus held his bride tightly and soaked up the view. In a few months, when she had fully recovered, they would move on to another town.

At the lab the next day, Mary, Ricky and Johnny sat around the table. Each one trying to avoid the gaze of the others they read on through the remaining notes and files, all of them trying to avoid the subject of the rumoured closures.

“Look at this,” said Mary, “it’s about some guy with the name Anabellus – can you believe any mother would call her child that?”

“It’s a pretty unusual name,” said Ricky.

“Oh hang on,” said Mary, “his name used to be George Abele.”

“The Abele’s used to own most of this town,” said Johnny, “Abele road, Abele Park and Town Street used to be the Abele estate.”

“According to this the guy died of our virus and it took him 12 days.” Said Mary.

“That’s sad.” Said Ricky.

“What else does it say?” Asked Johnny.

“Apparently the should be a picture of him.” Said Mary. She turned the page and stared at the cheap colour photograph. He hands started to tremble and he stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor.

“Mary,” asked Ricky, “are you okay?”

“Mary?” Asked Johnny.

“I’ve seen this man.” Said Mary, finally.

“What do you mean you’ve seen him?” Asked Johnny, “he’s dead.”

“The night Linda died he was in the bar.”

“Surely you must be mistaken.” Said Ricky.

“No, damn it, that was him. He was chatting up Linda and I left early with…” Mary broke into uncontrollable fits of sobbing.

“Johnny, could you fetch some coffee?”

“Sure,” said Johnny thinking: why me?

“I killed Linda,” sobbed Mary, “when I left to… when I thought that…”

“It’s alright,” said Ricky gently moving in to comfort her. “Nobody thinks you killed her. Now we can tell the police that the serial killer looks like George Abele did shortly before his death.”

“I condemned her to die,” wailed Mary.

“No, you didn’t,” Ricky said comfortingly, “you were her friend.” It is going to be a long day, he thought.

Gail fussed around her man, he seemed a little better today and had sat up and had some chicken soup. This, she felt, was a good sign – it meant he was getting better it also meant that she could maybe do a little more than hold him close during the night.

She looked around at the bedroom. She had kept her curtains closed at his request and she had changed the bucket ever few hours. Flowers in vases sat on every surface and a cup of water and a jug were sat by the bed.

Several different medicines we lined up on the dressing table. Some she recognised others she had purchased only because Paul had asked her too. It looked like a mad cross between a florists and a hospital.

She purchased fresh flowers whenever she went out and it helped her feel like she was doing something worthwhile.

Jackson opened his eyes again.

He looked at Angelina. It seemed she had stopped breathing. He sighed a deep sigh and considered burying her. In the end, he opted to simply cover her up with the blanket. He looked about the room and realised that this might be that last thing he ever saw.

If I could live my life over again, thought Jackson, I would do so much more before this moment.

He closed his eyes and slipped into a coma.

John sat at his desk. There was a tiny chance thay had all made the same mistake. If so Paul might still be alive.

He had in front of him a report of two boys who were attacked on the way home from a party. They grew ill and over twelve days gradually died. The story would have ended there but a visiting doctor successfully demonstrated that the boys were in fact still alive but in a very deep coma like sleep. Their vital signs had reduced to almost zero.

After nine days, one of the boys revived and a day later his friend did too. They rapidly returned to full health with no ill effects. They both had developed an aversion to sunlight and any strong sunlight caused blistering of the skin.

Within a day of each other, both boys reported that teeth had been falling out however after a month they had apparently grown back. The new teeth were sharper than the old ones and the boys required some dental work to blunt them off. The K9 teeth caused the biggest stir as they were fairly long and some locals given to flights a fancy suggested that the boys were vampires. One enterprising individual apparently attempted to kill them with large wooden stakes.

The boys continued to be fine apart from a growing allergy to sunlight and a bad cause of anaemia. Neither of which helped the rumours that had continued to spread.

They both died sixteen months later when locals discovered that they had been responsible for the death of three sheep and blamed them for other deaths and accidents. The boys died after being beaten and pursued by an angry mob. One was cornered and beheaded with an antique sword and the other was brutally murdered by zealots who effectively nailed him to the ground with wooden stakes.

While this was a shocking story, John realised, if this was the same virus then there was hope yet. The symptoms seemed the same it was just a shame that they did not have more time to investigate.

Gail purchased a large shovel on her way home from the shops. She hung her head low and placed it in the shed hoping that she never needed to use it. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to bury her man.

A tear slid down her cheek. He had been her’s and now he was sliding away. Life was cruel and unfair. She had no idea what she would do with the rest of her life now that her man was dieing.

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