Out For Blood 5

Martins thought back to his experiments with the Rats and then he remembered; a day or two ago he made a note in his journal about the treated Rat not eating or drinking, but attached little or no importance to it. He reached for the tap his hand visibly shaking, he twisted the top and filled a glass with water; his shaking caused a drop of water to run over his thumb.

Martins felt it burning and dropped the glass smashing it in the bottom of the sink; looking at his thumb he saw a shallow groove where the tap water had rolled over it. He turned the tap slightly and touched the dripping water, and again it burnt him like acid.

Martins was worried, very worried. Is that why the Rats didn’t drink? Is that why the woman felt a sudden fear of thunder? His thirst was raging, but how was he going to slake it without injury? If the woman hadn’t have been so fucking stupid he could have use her to fathom it out.

He went over to the test Rats in the cage and noticed neither food nor water had still been touched; they were sat side by side and unmoving, and at the furthest point from the water. He then introduced a third Rat, one he had not injected.

The savagery was beyond barbaric; within a few minutes all that remained was fur, its skull, and a few bone fragments. Martins returned to the sink, he didn’t bother to remove the broken glass, the following experiment didn’t require it.

He plugged the sink and filled it to within two inches of the brim. Then he put his hand in the cage and half expected to be bitten, but wasn’t. He carried the Rats to the sink and as they got nearer to it they became very agitated. Martins tossed them in and watched them squeal as they attempted to swim; only seconds had passed before they sank to the bottom.

The water had turned dark red and he could see nothing through it, he pulled the cord attached to the plug and when the sink had emptied he saw two half dissolved Rats, he didn’t know why they only half dissolved, and didn’t much care.

Martins went over his notes again and again; he couldn’t find where the problem lay, which meant he would not be able to produce a cure or antidote for his formula. He carefully filled another glass with water and poured it over the face of the dead woman, but nothing out of the ordinary happened.

After more hours of searching he gave up, his thirst had increased beyond comprehension, but he dare not drink. He had urinated what little he had onto a towel and managed to clean the blood from his face. Martins then looked at the remaining Rats and felt his thirst multiply.

‘Is this tremendous thirst willing me to take one? Urging me to…to devour a rat? ’ he thought. He opened one of the wire cages and choosing the biggest Rat he picked up a scalpel and cut its throat, he took three rapid deep breaths and sucked feverishly at the gaping wound.

When he’d finished he fell back against the bars of the cell coughing and wiping his mouth with the back of his left hand. The taste was sour, but Martins was now less thirsty. He did the same to a second Rat, again it was sour but he felt it nourishing him, giving him energy.

His head was in turmoil, he just couldn’t think straight. He had just savagely killed and drank the blood of two Rats and to some degree had enjoyed it, he had to get out. He walked the streets of South Charleston trying to figure things out; he knew some Bats survived by feeding off the blood of cattle, so he went to the lending library to find out more.

What he read didn’t ease his anguish.
‘Is that what I had become...' he thought incredulously. 'A fucking vampire?’ .