Out For Blood 1

Out For Blood

Prologue

Martinsville

August 17th 2007, 00.20 hrs.

Gregg had somehow managed to evade his pursuers and that huge cop that had arrested him for a broken tail-light, which actually wasn’t broken until he had kicked at it. Gregg knew then they were on to him; a broken light would only merit a ticket at worst. The cop had also taken his gun during the arrest, but there was no way Gregg could go back for it now, not if he wanted to stay alive. However, he still had his cell-phone; he was happy with that.

Earlier as the patrol car had flashed and pulled up behind him he tucked the phone down the side of his left boot, but running like he is now might send it underfoot, or worse… he could loose it altogether. He noticed a wire fenced compound about twenty-five yards ahead and decided he would stop there to make a call; he had to let someone know he was in very serious trouble.

Out of breath he slumped at the side of the wire fence and retrieved his cell-phone, only to find it turned off. This was now going to slow him down in contacting his partner Larry Kessler. Switching it back on he waited while the small screen lit up, it seemed as though he waited for hours, not mere seconds. Once it had illuminated a short message appeared, “Please Wait”, he waited. Then the little screen asked for his PIN code, he entered it, “Please Wait”, he waited again.

Gregg was about to press for the memory to bring up Larrys’ number when he heard shouting from the direction he himself had just come from. This time he left his cell-phone switched on before slipping it into his boot. He was about to get up when he heard a different noise; this time coming from behind, he turned to see three large dogs charging the fence he was leaning against.

Gregg sprang to his feet as the three dogs had now become four; jaws frothing with white mucus and noise thunderous they were the perfect alarm, anyone within a five-hundred yard radius would know exactly where he was now. Gregg looked on as they gnawed viciously at the wire mesh fence, two of them tearing at it and two of them constantly barking at him.

He set off again, this time directly into the woods at the back of what he now could only assume were kennels. The moonlight for what it was worth was braking through the canopy in thin shafts of white light which offered him little in the way of illumination. All around no matter where he looked the same scenery confronted him… nothing but the darkness of night. If he spun just once he could head off in either direction and not know if it was the right direction… away from Martinsville.

The moon was now his only guide, if he kept it to his right he was heading away from his pursuers, although the barking and the shouting also gave him a good audible field of direction. He reckoned he had about a three to four-hundred yard start on them, but not knowing where he was heading didn’t sit well with Gregg, he wasn’t happy with this situation in the least.

Was there some safe haven nearby? One close enough for him to reach before the dogs were released? Was there a road somewhere up ahead? A road where he could stop a passing vehicle and get a ride out of there? He kept on going; the barking of the dogs had slowly dissipated as he got further and further from the kennels, he hoped he was now in the clear.

Gregg has no idea how long he had been running for but his heart was now pounding almost hard enough to be heard. He looked to check the moon was still to his right, then lower in his field of vision he saw a flash of light through the woods, a vehicle perhaps? Whilst trying to dodge the oncoming trees as he raced forward he glanced over and again he saw it. The light was coming from a vehicle; about three-hundred yards away and it looked to be stationary.

Gregg began to run faster, he had to get there before it started up and left him behind. That’s when he heard the barking once more, the noise of the dogs sounded to be about two-hundred yards back now, he looked round to see flickering beams of light dancing through the trees… they were close. He then heard the screech of tyres and looked to see the once stationary headlights swerving on the road.

Gregg kept on going, the car was now only fifty-yards off to his right, and just ten-yards in front he could see the road illuminated by its headlights. If he wasn’t fast enough to stop the car those dogs would tear him to pieces, and if not the dogs… then his pursuers certainly would.

He reached the edge of the trees and sprinted out into the road but the driver hadn’t seen him. The car hit Gregg sending him over the top and crashing to the ground, it then skidded from the road only coming to a stop after hitting a tree.

Gregg had landed with his head facing the car, he was conscious and he was hurting, he tried to move but his broken body flatly refused. Gregg saw two figures getting out of the car; they began to move in his direction but as they neared the dark mantle of night stole his senses…

***

Martinsville Virginia, February 28th 1939. 3pm.

Harold Robertson had no intention of letting himself or his twin sister Alice, become part of the Collective. They were fifteen-years-old, and tomorrow they would be sixteen, and that’s when they would undergo ‘The Turning’. That is what they called it when they made you into one of them. Harold though was very strong, strong in body, and strong in mind, he knew exactly what he wanted. He also knew the only chance for a normal life for him and his sister was to get out of Martinsville, but no one had ever done that before and survived the chase. He wouldn’t reveal the secret of Martinsville to anyone, because they would not believe him.

The time of Harolds’ escape was irrelevant; they could follow him whether it was day or night. No, the only thing he needed was rain, and plenty of it. They can’t follow him in the rain, it hurts them. It was late February and that meant plenty of bad weather, bad for them, but perfect for Harold and Alice. He was sure that no one besides Alice, who was fully aware of the goings on in Martinsville, knew of his plans, and he was ready to go during the next rainstorm.

Harold looked out from his bedroom window at the storm clouds gathering in the distance, and smiled. Down below in the dusty street he could see them, staring up at the ever changing skies and then going into the Town Hall. This was the biggest indication that everything would go well. He planned to leave from the north side of town taking a route that would have him climb steep hills, hills the dogs couldn’t manage. If they got past Tarboro Ridge they were home free, from there to the Tarboro Bridge and onto a passing freight train to civilisation.

Harold took his sisters hand. ‘Alice,’ he said standing before her. ‘If they catch us you have to say that I forced you to come with me, do you understand?’
Alice reluctantly nodded.
‘She is scared, but she is brave.’ thought Harold.

February 28th 1939 6pm.
This was it, the rain was lashing down and the streets were deserted. Their parents, well they weren’t really their parents; Harolds’ and Alices’ parents died when they were two-years-old, they were told they had perished in a house fire, but Harold never believed that to be the truth.

Their carers since then had been Anton and Sophia Dupont; Sophia is the towns’ school teacher, and Anton is the town barber. They were in the Town Hall watching the rain with the rest of them, that’s what they all did, watch the rain. They would stand behind a window in silence, watching, waiting for it to stop.

Then Harold and Alice were gone; they slipped out through a window in the back of the Town Hall and were soon amongst the thick woods. They didn’t pack so they were leaving with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They were penniless too, but that didn’t matter, all that mattered was their freedom. They managed the first hill with ease and headed down into Bones Creek, from there they would head up one of the steepest climbs they could find and then onto Tarboro Ridge.

When they reached the creek at the bottom of the first hill the sound of the rushing water due to the amount rainfall made Harold smile. Then his smile rapidly dissolved, he should be hearing the rain beating down also, but it had stopped.

‘Alice, when did it stop raining?’ he asked.
‘I don’t remember,’ she said almost crying. ‘but I think it was still raining when we left the woods.’

Harold could see the anguish in his sisters’ face; it hurt him deeply. He knew that by now they would be following them, but didn’t know how close they might be. Harold placed his hands on his sisters’ shoulders. ‘Don’t worry Alice, we’ll make it, I know we will.’ and that’s when he heard a noise, a noise he hoped he wouldn’t hear… the barking of the dogs.

They crossed through the creek and sprinted past a small wooden hut; he thought about hiding them both there but he knew they would easily be found. They carried on for fifty yards or so and headed up the steepest part Harold thought Alice could manage. The dogs were getting nearer, their barking louder, Alice screamed when she saw Harold slip, he managed to stop himself from falling to the bottom but on the way down he caught the side of his face on a sharp thin jagged piece of rock, his right cheek was badly gashed and blood was running down his neck, but worse than that, much worse, it was dripping on the ground.

He started up again and was soon up to Alice, they seemed to be making better progress, but once more he lost his footing, this time he found no foothold, no little niche to put his hand into to stop his descent. He bounced off the hillside a number of times before landing on his back beside the creek. He heard Alice cry his name; he tried to call back for her to carry on and leave him, but found no breath in which to do so. He could still hear the barking dogs but their sound along with Alices’ cries soon became distant, and so did the light, then his senses gave way to darkness.

It was twelve-hours later when Harold felt pin-pricks on his hands and face; he was cold and still lying on the ground. To his left he could hear the rushing water in the creek, he didn’t know why but this seemed to unnerve him greatly. His eye-lids were closed and they also could feel the dozens of stinging pin-pricks. Only now they were more painful, and more frequent.

He sat up then opened his eyes, and that’s when noticed the rain, it was hitting his hands and face and was burning them, burning like small drops of acid. He saw the wooden hut farther along the edge of the creek and ran towards it putting his hands over his face to shield it from the burning rain. When he was inside the hut he hoped Alice had carried on, he hoped she had made Tarboro Bridge, he looked at his hands, and then realised his face would look much the same. It was then that he knew… he had become one of them.