2:
Death to a cult…
Fletcher
Rye finished off the last vampire, causing it to explode into ashes and sparks.
The remains of the Vampire landed in a large grey mound on the ground. The
whole construction site was covered in the remains of a cult of Vampires, all
in mounds across the large site, full of construction machinery. A whole cult
had come and decided to attack him. Fletcher hadn’t realised there would be a
whole cult hiding in the building site, though. He would have called back up if
he had. But still, he managed to slay most; the more stupid ones got taken out
by the sun. Fletcher discarded the half rotted stake he was holding in his left
hand, (It was rotted from the Vamp venom), as he walked out of the warehouse he
was in. It seemed the warehouse had been where all the Vampires had been
hidden. The sun came around to the large
black paned sun light windows high in the warehouse’s roof and blared down
through silver chains; hanging slumped across the rotted wooden beams, where
pigeons roosted far, far above.
Fletcher let the beams of warm
sunlight hit his face, red lips curling into a sharp smile. It wasn’t a bad
day’s work, really. Not for a slayer of his level of training, anyway.
Fletcher’s auburn hair shun in the glorious rays of sunshine. He tore off his
black leather Slayer suit, leaving him in a pair of knee long cream shorts.
God, he was roasting. His torso was bare, showing off hard abs forming a six
pack and light blonde chest hair. He reached his car just outside the chain
link fence, past big cylinder concrete beams, stacked on top of each other.
Opening the boot, Fletcher checked
his supply of weapons. Not very many, he had to admit, but he was sure his
partner Alicia had loads left. He pulled out a white cotton t-shirt and slipped
it on before he closed the boot and sat into the driver seat. The engine roared
to life and pressed down on the accelerator, twisting the steering wheel
around, doing a U-turn. He pressed down harder and soon he was well over the
speed limit, speeding off down the road past shops, a park and a round-a-bout,
kicking up dust in his trail.
Fletcher
came to a stop at traffic lights and he tapped the wheel impatiently. A small,
old lady started walking across the zebra crossing, supported by a walker,
nothing out of the ordinary. An open black umbrella was hooked onto the walker,
sending the crooked old woman into shade and shadows. A moth-eaten, faded pink
hat with a long dead sunflower hanging out the top, drooping downwards, sat on
her head. Small circular rimmed glasses hung on the bridge of her long rounded
nose. She twisted her head slightly,
gave a little wave, and smiled. Then, her jawbone slid back, her mouth opened,
revealing sharp, yellow razor-like teeth. Her wrinkly face disappeared, sinking
back into her forehead. Her mouth enlarged growing several inches too wide,
opening dangerously. Grey dull eyes turned to youthful emerald green. Her
crooked back retracted and the woman straightened, standing tall. She tossed
the walker to the side but still held the black umbrella up, protecting herself
from the harmful U.V rays. He dress dropped to reveal a matching orange and
grey Adidas tracksuit with a hood. With a ferocious roar she attacked. She
pulled up the hood and jumped fifteen feet in the air.
The now young woman landed heavily down on the
bonnet of the car, causing it to buckle. The headlights smashed into thousands
of tiny pieces. Smoke rose from the crumpled remains of the engine. Her hand
flew through the windscreen causing it to spider web. Her scarred, strong hands
clutched around Fletcher Rye’s neck and she thrust him forwards, sending him
smashing through the windscreen. He landed a few metres from the now ruined
Range Rover jeep.
Fletch hit his head against the curb and blood
trickled down his brow. He reached to
check the damage but the woman was on him, again. She landed crouched over him,
punching the sense out of his head. He went dizzy and the woman multiplied by
ten in his vision. He saw stars and couldn’t see her straight. The woman
continued punching him and she smashed his nose with such force he was sure it
couldn’t be fixed properly. While the
woman punched him once more on the chin, Fletch mustered all of his energy and
shoved it into one kick which sent the female Vampire flying off him and
smashing into a shop front window of a hardware store. Fletcher scrambled up,
half crawling, half running and got back to the ruined silver Range Rover. He
grabbed a large piece of broken glass with a very sharp edge. His hand was cut
on the glass the minute he picked up and soon it became slippery with the warm
metallic smelling blood.
Fletch staggered backwards, holding his head.
The female Vampire jumped up onto her feet and snarled. She ran forward and leaped up, landed on his
shoulder and whacked her fist against Fletcher’s head. He screamed out in agony
and stumbled backwards, tripping on his own feet. He collapsed to the ground,
sending the Vampire flying off him. She landed on the ground, her head smashing
open on the tarmac ground, the black umbrella falling from her reach. Her hood
fell, leaving her head exposed to the dangerous, burning sun.
The female vampire’s head knitted itself back
together and it was as if it never had been cracked open. Soon, without the
protection of the umbrella she so desperately clung to, her hair started to
singe slowly starting to smoke. She swiftly pulled up her hood and scrambled
across the dark tarmac road to grab her umbrella. The vampire threw it over her
head and sighed with relief. Then, her face turned to a snarl and she bounded
towards Fletch, running on her tough, long muscular legs.
She jumped and went to dive upon Fletcher, but
with a swift movement, he grabbed her neck and tried to slice her stomach,
whipping the broken glass across her stomach. The female vampire’s diaphragm
retracted and she arched her back, bringing out to an impossible length, her
stomach following it inwards. The broken glass narrowly missed her stomach,
just grazing her tracksuit. She smiled sharply as her body took its form again.
Her mouth shot open, so wide, the smell of metallic stale blood on her breath.
She snapped her head forward and was just about to dig her sharp, sharp teeth
in his neck when she exploded into dust.
Fletch fell backwards from the momentum of her
exploding. He collapsed back onto the ground, smallest of puncture marks on his
neck. He felt it, and was quite sure there was no venom injected. He rolled
over and stood up, looking around. The vampire wasn’t struck from the sun, he
knew that. “Then what had struck it?” He thought aloud.
“I did,” Said a woman from behind him, picking
up an arrow from the ground.
Fletcher turned to see a woman with dark black
fuzzy hair, placing an arrow back in a sheath strapped to her back. She slipped
a silver iron bow up over her left shoulder, tucking it tight against the
sheath of arrows. She wore red leather, much like his slayer suit. Only the
black was substituted for scarlet, blood red. “Well, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She said stiffly, turning
away and beginning to leave.
“Wait!” Fletcher called, walking after her.
The woman turned, her hair blowing in the soft
summer breeze. “What?”
Fletcher walked up to her and looked at her
closely. “You saved me, why?”
She shrugged. “I seemed to be just walking by.
Actually, that’s a lie. I followed you from the construction site.”
“You were there?” Fletcher asked.
“Yeah, I was fighting. Helped you take down a
whole cult, I did.”
Fletcher didn’t believe that. Of course she
wasn’t there. He would have seen her; especially if she was firing arrows with
a… bow. “You’re using a bow? Not very traditional…”
She laughed. “Crossbows are for wimps without
accuracy.”
Fletcher turned and began to walk towards the
ruined silver Range Rover. He heard the
small, graceful footsteps of the woman with a thick curly black mane behind
him. When he reached the car, he rounded to the back and opened the boot.
Fletcher reached in and pulled out a small hidden compartment in the side of
the polystyrene boot. The small rattle of small vials filled the humid, silent
air. He picked one up and opened it, splashing some onto his blood covered
fingertip and was about to rub it into the small punctured hole in his neck
when the woman’s hand grabbed his.
“What?” Fletcher asked, quite annoyed.
“Do you really want to burn yourself to death
with holy water? Use salt water, you idiot.”
“And where do you suggest I find that, eh?
Look around. There isn’t a sea around here for miles.” Fletcher retorted.
“Lucky for you, I have some.” The strange
woman handed him a vial of water from which she pulled from her dark scarlet
suit. “Saved your life twice now and I still haven’t caught your name.” She
smiled.
Fletcher snatched the vial and quickly poured
the salt water over the small wound. It stung like hell, but he didn’t care. Discarding the vial, he turned on the woman.
“You lied to me.”
“What?” She asked genuine confusion in her
voice.
“You lied. You weren’t at the site. If you
were, I would have seen you. Your indistinguishable hair would have been a
giveaway.” He laughed, “And I didn’t catch yours, either.”
“Well,” She began. “I was at the site, but no,
I didn’t fight. However, I had been going to the site beforehand to see if I
could slay a few Vamps though, but on arrival all I found were mounds of ash.
Then I saw you, sweet cheeks. I saw you leaving the site, so I followed you.
Then, when you ran into trouble, I shot down that Vampire who could shift. I
thought they were just rumours, though, Vampires who could shift. I guess not,
I suppose.”
“Then answer this, why are you putting up a
nice girl act?” Fletcher asked the woman.
“Why would you ask that?” She replied.
Fletcher laughed. “Because I don’t really
think you’re a very nice girl.”
“Well, you might very well be correct,” She
smiled, paused, and then continued. “It’s because I want to partner with you.
You’re not very good, I must admit, but you do have potential.”
“That’s where you are wrong, I have experience. I’m actually a high
standing Slayer, to be honest. So, please forgive me when I say it: but no.” He
snarled.
“Feel free to cry me a river.”
“I’m not even sure you are a Slayer.” Fletcher remarked, getting extremely annoyed, which
he was only too happy to show.
The woman pulled up her sleeve and her mouth
curled into a vicious smile. On her arm, just below the elbow, tattooed in
black ink, was the number 492; her Slayer identification code.
Slayer identification codes were tattooed on
all Slayers when they earned their title of Slayer and completed their
training.
“See. I am a Slayer. Do you have an identification
code?” She accused Fletcher.
Fletcher grunted and pulled up his sleeve
revealing a number in the same ink; 129.
“Oh, so you are a Slayer!” The woman continued excitedly, “One-Two-Nine, huh?
Now all I need is your name.” She smiled slyly, once again.
Fletcher sighed, stepped backwards and slammed
the boot down. He turned, stuck his thumbs the pockets of his blood stained
shorts, resting the palms of his hands on his belt. Fletcher leaned against the
bumper of the smashed up silver car. “I don’t think you’ll get that anytime
soon.”
“You’re”- The woman began but was cut off by
Fletcher’s phone ringing. “Who’s that?” She whispered quickly.
Fletcher dug the phone from his pocket and
checked the screen. “It’s my partner. Now, excuse me, but I need to take this.”
The woman sighed and as Fletcher opened the
phone and answered, she turned and walked away. She turned left, and walked
down the alleyway beside the smashed shop front of the hardware store.
“Hey.” Fletcher said into the phone.
“Fletcher, what’s going on?” Alicia spoke
urgently into the phone.
“Ah, there’s nothing much going on to be
honest.” He replied, and then continued quickly. “But, could you maybe come and
collect me at the hardware store in town, just before the traffic lights?”
Fletcher could swear he heard the exasperated
sigh on the other end of the phone. He grinned, knowing he was annoying Alicia
greatly, but it ended up short lived as the ever so dramatic voice of Alicia
Bond took up again. “Why?” She asked.
Fletcher glanced back at the crushed, ruined
silver jeep. “Um, well… My jeep like, kind of broke down.” Well, it was sort of
the truth.
“OK, whatever, I’m not going to ask!”
“You just did...” Fletcher laughed as Alicia
hung up.
Fletcher turned, pushing off the car and
clicked the boot of the car open. He reached in and took a can of Coca-Cola
from a plastic bag containing nothing else. It was warm, but he didn’t care.
Popping the can open he chugged it back into him, gulping hard. After he was
finished, he placed the can on the ground and stamped on it, crushing it to a
single disc. He picked it up and walked back around to the front of the car and
tossed it through the smashed windscreen.
Fletcher turned again and walked away from the
site of the fight, hands clutched at his sides. Suddenly, something popped into
his head.
“I
helped you take down a whole cult, I did.”
Well, whatever it was, it was death to a cult…
3:
I will rule…
Faith
Le Bane walked across the dockyard on the edge of town, heading down the many
aisles of cargo crates and huge storage containers. The sun, just about setting
was sinking down below the horizon, sending a splendid yellow and orange glow
against the sea beyond the docks. She came to a stop, fixed her long fuzzy
black hair, pulling it back off her face depositing it behind her ears. Faith
slipped a long knife into the back of her scarlet red belt around her scarlet
red slayer suit. She wasn’t as hot as she was hours ago when she had saved the
Slayer known as Fletcher Rye. She wondered why she hadn’t let him be killed at
the hands of the female vampire. She
didn’t know why she did it, she could’ve had. She should’ve had. But she
didn’t. The reason: probably because she wasn’t told to.
Faith halted, looking up at a huge
blue and grey metal cargo holder stacked upon two others, a blue and grey one,
and a red and grey one. On the side of the cargo containers, a rusted ladder
was screwed so someone could climb up to them. Faith grabbed onto either side
and began to climb. Coming close to the top, she stopped, and took a breath.
She reached back to make sure the knife wasn’t going to fall out of her belt,
she needed it. When she came closer to the top cargo container, the blue
one, Faith let her legs slip and began
to swing, tossing her legs across towards the door of the blue cargo container.
Faith kicked the latch holding the
door in place, and it snapped open sharply with a loud thwack. Faith twisted her body sideways, letting her legs fall in
the doorway of the cargo container. She pulled herself in, rolled over and
stood up. She immediately coughed. Dust swirled around in the air, lots and
lots of it, leaving the air barely breathable.
The cargo container
contained a small grey metal bed with a white sheet and duvet, covered in dirt
and dust, and a pillow without a pillowcase, in the same state as the sheet and
duvet. In the room, it was a tiny room
about twelve foot wide, twelve foot in length; there was a small desk and one
chair. A lamp sat on the grey metal desk badly in need of a dusting, a loose
cord hanging from its side. It was off, so the only light was coming from the
open door swinging now in a light breeze that had taken up in the few minutes
she’d entered the container, shining in dimly through the swirling dust.
She could see the wall was covered in a light layer of mould
and damp.
A man coughed loudly from the corner
of the container, stepping out of the dark, dank shadows. He looked out through
the door at the slowly setting sun. He looked at Faith and raised an eyebrow.
“Please shut the door, Faith.” The man’s voice was deep and rough. He had a raggedly cut grey beard and long
black hair. His pale skin was hard and so white it nearly glowed in the darkness of the dusty container. The man made Faith
terribly uncomfortable. He was a monster, he was dangerous. He would kill…
Faith walked over to the cargo
container’s door and pulled it back in hastily, hurrying quickly. After she had
made sure the door was fastened it properly, she strode back to the man in
three simple steps. “You do know the sun is nearly down, master.”
“Nearly, but I am not taking any
chances, Faith.” She replied calmly. His was voice really rough; it was like he
had a sore throat and in badly need of an ice cool drink. “How are you, though?
Did you succeed in your mission?”
Faith coughed. She felt like she was
in big trouble, which she probably was. She wanted to get away, to thrust open
the door, to jump and run. She wanted to take out the knife, attack the man…
Kill him. “No master. I didn’t.”
The man across from her chuckled
hoarsely. “And may I ask why not?”
“One of your Vamps attacked, she
nearly killed him. I would have had him, but that infernal idiot who could
shift, what was her name? Delia? She attacked, shifted and then, when she was
about to bite into Fletcher I killed her.”
The man let out a frustrated sigh.
“You killed her? You killed her! How dare you kill one of my most valuable
soldiers! She was the best spy I had! You will pay, Faith!”
The man lost his composure and
raised his hand to bring it down hard upon Faith. She whipped he hands behind
her to grab the knife very discreetly, slowly to make sure the man wouldn’t see
her. But, then the man stopped, so she continued her act of ‘she was scared’
and flinched. The man’s hand dropped and he stood tall again.
“Was there no other alternative but
her death?” he asked her.
Faith shook her head quickly, “No,
master. Otherwise Fletcher Rye would have been dead and I”- she stopped.
“What?” The man asked her.
“Nothing,” She lied.
The man didn’t believe her, but let
it slide because he saw no serious threat in a slip of words. He turned around
and sat down. The lamp beside flickered
on beside him and he squinted because it was so bright compared to the pitch
black darkness that had filled the room seconds ago. “Are you ready for your
next mission?”
“I am, master.”
“You will need to gather my army
together. The summer solstice is approaching rapidly. You will also need to
stop the Slayers from completing the mission they are about to uptake. This is
important. Please do not fail me.”
“When have I ever failed you,
master?” asked Faith.
“I think you loyalty is slipping, Faith. Assure me it isn’t.”
“It is not, master Antoine. It is not.”
“That is all, then. Now you can leave. Complete your missions
and you shall be rewarded.”
Faith turned to leave but was called back by the man Antoine.
“Remember to alert my generals. Also, please contact Dredge. He is in desperate
need of getting out and about. Do contact him and please behave. I know you haven’t had a history of liking him. Now, you
can leave.”
Faith did so.
After she left, Antoine Haven started writing on paper he
took from under his desk while he murmured to himself.
“I will
rule…”
***
Faith walked
across the dockyard again, walking away this time. She left through big thick
iron gates, turning to close them catching a glance of the ships docking in for
the night. She slammed the iron gate angrily, hating what she had to do. Work
with Dredge? He is in need of getting out
and about.
She hated Dredge, and he hated her. How were they to work
together?
Sighing angrily, nostrils flaring,
Faith walked back to the black Mercedes Benz she had travelled in earlier to
get to the dockyard. She threw open the back left door and climbed in. Faith
sat on the black leather seats tapping her foot against the ground impatiently.
“Ugh!” She cried frustrated, punching the back of the driver’s seat.
“Hey!” cried a woman named Cressida
Hare from the driver’s seat. She spun around glaring at Faith. She had a
chauffeur cap on, just beneath it a blonde fringe hung down over her forehead.
Her sapphire blue eyes were underlined in blackness from a mixture of a lack of
sleep and from where her nose was broken. Her nose, normally long and pointed was
squashed back into her face. A vampire broke her nose a few weeks back, and
Cressida refused to go see a doctor. Faith had pressed her, but to no avail,
Cress didn’t give in.
“Sorry Cress.” Faith apologised genuinely. She sighed again and rested her head against
the window.
Cressida’s brow furrowed. “What’s
wrong?”
“Nothing, now can you drive!” Faith
snapped suddenly.
“You’ve got something bugging you.
What is it?” Cressida pressed.
“Nothing, now drive!” Faith snapped
again.
Cressida turned around and twisted
the key in the ignition. She lifted her chin and adjusted the mirror above the
dashboard attached to the window. She glanced back at Faith in the mirror.
“Don’t snap at me just because I want to know what has you upset, sweetie. Is
Antoine Haven bothering you?” Cressida’s voice was calm and reassuring,
peaceful and comforting.
Faith shifted around to look at
Cressida in the mirror. “Antoine Haven always
bothers me; ever since my mother sold me to him when I was child. Of course he
bloody bothers me!” She slipped the knife out of her belt and went to slash her
hand with it, but was stopped when Cressida slammed hard on the brakes. Faith
shot forward, the knife flying forward too, past the gap between the driver’s
seat and passenger side. It landed on the passenger’s seat. “What the hell Cressida!” Faith screamed in
pain as the seatbelt cut into her shoulder.
Cressida turned. “Do not do that to yourself. What is wrong?”
She demanded an answer.
Faith sighed. “He’s pairing me with
Dredge.”
“Dredge? But you hate each other.”
“That’s exactly why I’m angry!”
Faith shouted loudly and punched the back of Cressida’s chair.
Cressida started the car again,
rolling slowly away, further and further away from the dockyard, picking up
speed. “I’ve a feeling that’s not exactly all that’s the matter. Is it?”
“No. He wants me to… He wants me to
gather his Vampire army. It’s waiting. I just need to call them. And, and I
have to stop Fletcher Rye from chasing the sun.”
Cressida Hare sighed. She picked up
speed again until she was well over the speed limit, but kept her silence.
Finally she asked, “Where to, sweetie?”
Faith looked up; wet tear stains
trailing down her cheeks. “I suppose to Dredge.”
Cressida turned to her. “Are you
sure?”
Faith nodded. “It’s now or never, I
suppose.”
Cressida looked at Faith; bound
against her will, unable to defy those holding her down, miserable, sad… alone.
She had Cressida at least. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. “Why
can’t you just ignore the order?” She said, already knowing the answer.
“It’s because Antoine Haven owns me.
If I defy him, I’ll be dead. You know why I can’t ignore the order! It’s a
death sentence. And he would overpower me in a fight, if I were to try kill
him, so don’t suggest that Cressida. Please, just drive.”
“Okay then, to Dredge we go.” She
grimaced.
The Cathedral loomed in the slowly
setting sun, the sky turning a dark purple, then to a midnight purple, then to
a complete blank black.
Alicia
and Fletcher walked through the huge ornate oak doors of the Cathedral that had
been restored three years ago when Alicia and Fletcher had made their base of
operations when they became Slayers at the early age of seventeen. Now, at
twenty they are probably one of the most experienced Slayers in the world.
The
gigantic stone building was built over a hundred years ago, and loomed so high
in the sky the pair of Slayers looked like ants in comparison. The two of them
made their way down the red carpet aisle, past the many pews where people would
have prayed when the Cathedral was up in running many years beforehand.
They reached the top of the church,
stopping just before the marble steps that led to the greyed marble altar
above. The Cathedral was dim, no light coming in except from the abstract stain
glass windows set high up the walls. The roof arched into a dome, with thick
wooden beams in renewed perfect conditions supporting it from crumbling down
upon the place.
Fletcher
knelt down in front of the marble railings surrounding the steps leading up to
the altar and pulled the third railing. It came away and the steps started
shifting backwards into each other until they were in a straight line under the
altar above revealing cold stone steps leading down to Alicia and Fletcher’s
base of operations. They felt the immediate draft of cold flying up from the
icy cold depths below the Cathedral, wavering around the nearest places to the
air. The place was impossible to heat as all the warm air rose upwards. The
actual Cathedral was warmer than down below.
Fletcher
started walking down the cold stones steps to the base deep below. He looked
from left to right at the old time torches hung in black grates, screwed to the
walls were, as per usual, unlit. “Trust the help not to help.” Fletcher
muttered. Their third team mate, Errol Pooch- who couldn’t slay to save his
life- stayed around to work around the place to do jobs; of course, he didn’t…
Errol Pooch sat perched in front of
the LED computer screen playing his forty-seventh game of Pac-man that day,
with a long gone cold cup of coffee sitting beside him on the cold metal desk
the computer was on. Losing the game, Errol threw his hands up in frustration.
He then picked up his cold coffee and drank from one of the very few un-chipped
mugs in the base. When gulped enough of it in him, he coughed and spluttered
and spat the coffee out. “Ugh, this is cold!” He said out-loud.
Errol
kicked off the ground and the leather office chair propelled backwards over to
the small kitchen area within the small enough base deep below the big
Cathedral high above. He spun around and opened the small silver microwave
pressed tight against the wall, the wires going down into the counter. The
microwave swung back closed so he opened it again and stuck the mug in and
closed it again, turning the timer to thirty seconds. He looked at his reflection
in the microwave’s shiny black door.
Through
his grimy moon spectacles he could see the dark underline of his eyes half
yellow because of him playing on the computer too much. Emerald green eyes were
dulled because of the grime on his glasses. Long brown hair lay around his ears,
which he brushed back behind his ears. His normally clean shaven face was
un-shaven. He took out a clean linen handkerchief and started to clean his
glasses in his aged hands with chewed up fingernails. “God, I should get cleaned
up.”
The
microwave pinged and Errol opened the microwave, placing down his glasses. He
took a sip from the cup and coughed. He slid over to the closet near the sink
and picked out the bag if sugar and scooped up two teaspoons of it and
sprinkled it in the coffee. He took another sip and spat it into the sink. He
poured the rest of it in too; it tasted horrible and washed it all down with
the tap.
Errol
slid back over to the computer and clicked ‘Play again’. The yellow Pac-man
went and ate the blue, pink, orange and red alien things. He started clicking
the keyboard when Alicia and Fletcher entered the room.
Errol,
distracted by Pac-man didn’t hear them coming in. Fletcher raised his index
finger to his lips indicating to be quiet. On his tip-toes he hopped over to
where Errol was sitting and put his two hands on Errol’s shoulder suddenly. He
bent over and breathed on Errol’s neck and whispered, “Um, you’ll be tasty.”
Errol
jumped, scared out of his wits. Fletcher laughed loudly and sat down on another
office chair beside the one Errol was sitting on. “Ha, dude you were so
scared.”
Alicia
came up closer, laughing lightly. “Oh, Errol… You are a mad laugh.”
Errol
crossed his arms. “You had me scared to death!” His voice was dry.
Fletcher
chuckled again, “What age are you, twenty one? Seriously, like c’mon.”
“So?
I thought you were a Vampire…”
Fletcher
laughed again and turned on the computer he was sitting at. He continued to log
in and go into his email, while saying. “Errol, no offence, but you stink. Like
hell. What have you been doing all last week?”
Errol
gulped before replying, “Um, playing Pac-man and drinking coffee pretty much
sums it up.”
Alicia butted into the conversation,
speaking elegantly. “Go take a shower and shave. Seriously though, you look
like a tramp.”
“Thanks.”
Errol said sarcastically getting up to go for a shower in the one of the three
big bathrooms down the base off into the wall.
He began to walk down.
“Very
welcome,” Alicia smiled after him and collapsed into the chair Errol had been
in.
Fletcher
was logged into his email now, and sorting through them all. He came to a stop
on one with the subject box saying: Urgent.
He clicked it open.
Dear Fletcher Rye,
You and your party of
Slayers are needed. Vampires are increasing in numbers, and you and Alicia are
high standing and experienced. You are needed to chase the sun, to stop the
ever growing population from waging war against us Slayers. Therefore I have
included a link and a file for you to download with names of other Slayers who
would be willing to assist you. It is a quest, if you chose to accept it. I am
sure you know of the myth of those who believe the world can be travelled in
twenty-four hours of sunlight? I’m sure you will be happy to help.
The
Grand Slayer: Waverick Mars.
Underneath the email there was a link
to that included names of Slayers as said within the email from Waverick Mars.
Fletcher clicked on it and put his hand up to his mouth. He scrolled down the list with seven of names
he didn’t recognise; they weren’t anyone he knew. The list was made up of these
names:
Kilia Smith
Devaris Hulp
Janice Backlow
Lee Olivers
Mark Terrace
Robert Gorath
Fred Lyinp
“Wow,”
he said murmured sarcastically, “that’s a lot of people there, Mars.”
“What’s
that?” Alicia asked, getting up and bending down behind him, reading the
text.
“It’s
from our dear old friend Waverick. Y’know, he wants us to do something crazy
for him as per usual.”
“What
would it be this time? Who are those people?” Alicia stopped reading the text,
just skipping to the names not bothering with the actual body of the email. She
crossed to the kitchen area and plugged in the kettle and pressed the switch to
turn it on. She clicked the switch on the actual kettle to make it boil. She turned to look at Fletcher and leaned
against the counter top. “So, what is it?”
“Waverick
Mars wants us to ‘help fight the increasing population of Vampires by chasing
the sun’ whatever that means.”
“Haven’t
you ever heard about chasing the sun?” Alicia asked sounding surprised.
Fletcher
stood, shaking his head. “Nope, should I have?”
The
base underground the Cathedral was mostly high-tech and modern. Weapons lay in
glass cabinets around the walls, there were twelve computer screens lining a
whole counter on one side. Directly opposite the computers was the kitchen area
which held a fridge against the wall, a microwave, a dishwasher and a
dryer/washing machine. Beside the
kitchen area was a hall which lead down to the bathrooms (there were three),
past that there were the bedrooms and at the end of the hall, past a thick
voice controlled metal door lay the weapons room.
Errol
Pooch entered the hall from one of the bathroom doors and made his way up the
hallway, his hair dripping wet onto a towel draped around his neck on his
shoulders. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a faded black ACDC t-shirt. “Hey
guys.” He said, passing the kitchen area.
“Hey
Er,” Alicia said then continued her story. “In theory the world can be travelled
if in twenty-four hours of sunlight, if the chaser followed the sun so noon
would fall exactly when the sun was overhead each time. It’s a myth, or a
theory, shall I say that I never believed. Seemingly, if it were done, the
chasers would be immune to Vampire attacks. Only one person has done it, but he
died later on. I think his name was Antoine Haven, or something. I can’t
remember.”
“Are
you talking about attempting it?” Errol asked.
“Well
Mars, our old friend, wants us too.” Fletcher sighed.
“You
aren’t going to, are you?” Errol Pooch seemed sceptical.
“It
depends.” Alicia said, raising an eyebrow.
“I think we should.” Fletcher
looked at Alicia as if to say ‘you decide’. She shrugged.
“It’d
be fun.” Alicia admitted with a smile. “It would be very fun. Plus, I’ve always
wanted to travel the world. And now I could get the chance to slay while doing
it; it’s a dream come through.”
“Then
let’s do it.”
“But
first, you have to tell me what happened in town. Why the hell was your car all
banged up?”
“It’s
a long story.” Fletcher replied.
“Do you see me going anywhere
anytime soon?” She asked rhetorically, “Tell me.”
“Fine,” Fletcher gave in with a sigh. “But you
aren’t going to like it.” Fletch continued when Alicia shrugged her shoulders
dismissively, “I was driving home from the construction site, right? Well, I
stopped at the traffic lights and an old lady-as it appeared- came hobbling
across the road, okay? And then she shifted into a young woman and attacked me.
I was having a hard time fighting the Vamp, though but luckily there was
another Slayer, in a red suit, with long curly black fuzzy hair. She killed it
and saved me. So, that’s what happened.”
Alicia
went pale, she froze. “Oh,” was all she managed and even that was a strangled
whisper.
“What’s
wrong, A?” Fletcher said surprised and shocked at his partner’s reaction. “A?
What? A?”
“It’s…
It’s just if I ever lost you, I don’t know what I would do. You mean everything
to me; you’re like a brother, Fletch, a brother.” That was a lie.
Surprised
by this new revelation, Fletch got up and crossed to Alicia, put his arms
around her and hugged her tight. “It’s OK,” He comforted her.
Errol,
distracted once again by Pac-man on his computer, oblivious to Alicia and
Fletcher looked up. “What’s up?” He asked.
“Nothing’s
wrong Pooch, nothing.” Fletcher said.
***
“Errol, remember: wash, keep up with
the chores and contact us if anything goes wrong, OK?” Alicia warned Errol for
about the fifth time that hour. It was morning and the sun was just breaking
the grey horizon sending rays of yellow streaking through the sky.
“Yes,
I got it.”
“Are
you sure you don’t want to come?” Alicia asked.
“Positive.”
Errol replied firmly.
Alicia
hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “Be good.” She whispered in his ear and
it tickled. He laughed quietly.
“We’re
good to go.” Fletcher said returning from packing up the new car he had taken
from the garage around the back, in which there were hundreds of cars. It was
the exact same car as his old one.
“OK,”
Alicia replied. “Bye Er.”
“Bye
Pooch.” Fletch said, already walking away with a wave over his shoulder.
“Bye!”
Pooch called and began to walk back into the cathedral his desire to play more
Pac-Man overcoming him.
Fletcher’s
car was parked around the back of the Cathedral. Fletcher and Alicia walked
towards it, opened the door and both of them hopped in. Fletcher turned the key in the ignition and the
engine roared to life. Fletcher turned to Alicia and asked, “You OK?”
“Of
course I am.” She replied, a smile playing on her lips, and then asked. “Are you?”
Fletcher
just grinned.
Alicia
put her feet up on the dashboard and leaned forward to look up at the slowly
rising sun. It was beautiful, the sunrise. Alicia loved it and most mornings
Alicia had scaled up the many, many steps to the top of the steeple up in the
clouds on top of the huge Cathedral just to watch. She smiled hugely, happily.
“You ready?”
“Yup.”
Fletcher replied and pulled off, around the Cathedral and through the gates to
the main road. He turned left, then clicked on the Sat-Nav that sat on the
dashboard of his new car and typed in the coordinates to the ferry place to go
to India. He picked up speed and soon they were soaring through roads, cross
sections and back roads as they were no cars on the road this early. “Alicia?
Check the files. Just to make sure we’re to go to India first.”
She
nodded after she checked the files. “Yeah, we’re to go to India first.”
Fletch
sped up and hit the radio. The song ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ came on.
“Let the chase begin…”
They
speed away onto the motorway, singing sweet home Alabama all summer long.
