Vampire Shift

Chapter Five


The morning was overcast and dreary looking, but at least the rain from the night before had stopped. I didn’t know the area at all, and I thought I would spend the morning getting to know it. My first official nightshift started at seven, and I wanted to get a feel for the place and its people before I started policing it and them. If I were going to be successful in my new post, I would have to know my patch.

Heading back in the direction that Luke had brought me the night before, I started a slow jog. There were no pavements and I had to keep to the side of the road. In some places the undergrowth was so overgrown, I had to run further out into the road. It wasn’t as if I were putting myself in danger, as the roads seemed deserted. Not one car or person had passed me in the twenty minutes or so that it had taken me to run all the way from the Inn to the outskirts of town.

Slowing down, I looked left then right, trying to decide on which way to go. Then looking over my shoulder in the direction that I’d come, my stomach tightened and my heart sped up as I saw the hooded figure from the previous night. He was cycling towards me, his face hidden by the same hoodie he’d worn before. Turning front again, I turned left, wondering if he would follow me. I hadn’t gone very far when I glanced back again, and to my surprise saw him turn into the narrow road that I had taken.

I tried to tell myself that perhaps it was just coincidence that he was cycling the same stretch of road that I’d chosen to jog along. But who was I trying to kid? He was following me. After all, I knew it had been him who had left that crucifix tacked to my door. But why? Perhaps I should ask him?

Slowing to a standstill in the middle of the road, I turned around, and with my hands on my hips, I faced the oncoming hooded cyclist. Then seeing that I had stopped running, he stopped cycling. There was a long moment that seemed to stretch out forever as I stared at him and he stared back at me from beneath his hood.

Turning my back on him, I started to run again, this time picking up my speed. After a short time I looked back, only to find that he had started cycling again towards me. I slowed and so did he, always careful to keep a good distance between us. What did this guy want? I wondered. And why wouldn’t he show his face?

Again I stopped running and turned to face him. As I suspected he would, the cyclist stopped, and just sat and watched me.

“What do you want?” I called out, and my voice sounded echoey as it travelled across the empty fields on either side of the road. “How do you know my name?”

The hooded guy said nothing, but just sat on his bike and looked at me from beneath his hood. Then without warning, I ran as fast as I could towards him. He turned his bike around in the road and peddled as fast as he could away from me.

Knowing that I could never catch him, I slowed, doubled up gasping for breath. Once I had stopped, so did the cyclist ahead of me. Turning his bike again in the road, he sat and watched me.

Drawing in lungfuls of oxygen, I shouted as loud as I could, “Why did you leave me that crucifix?”

The cyclist, whoever he was, didn’t respond, he just sat motionless on his bike.

“I know it was you!” I yelled at him. Turning, I started to run again. Okay, I thought. If he wanted to play games, I could play along. Ahead there was a bend in the road, and running as fast as I could, I raced towards it. I rounded the bend and saw that it opened out into a wide open area of wild grass and sand, which led down through the cliffs and towards the cove. Off to the right was an outcrop of rocks. Diving behind them, I lay flat against the ground. From my hiding place, I could hear the sea crashing against the shore in the distance, and the sound of seagulls as they squawked overhead.

Peering around the rocks, I watched as the cyclist rode his bike onto the open area. He stopped, and looked from left to right, his hood never moving, not offering the smallest glimpse of who was beneath it. After a few seconds, he rode forward and headed towards the rocks. As he drew nearer, I could see that his hands were covered with gloves, and apart from the dark black hoodie, he wore blue jeans and trainers. There was a chill in the air, but I found it odd that he was so snugly wrapped up and wearing gloves. It was as if he didn’t want to show any of his skin.

Squatting on all fours, I waited for him to draw level with the rocks. When he was almost on top of me, I sprang from my hiding place and made a desperate grab for his handlebars. I managed to get hold of one before he twisted them away and out of reach. Holding on as best I could, the bike wobbled and the cyclist steadied himself by slamming both of his feet down into the sand.

“Who are you?” I hollered at him, his head lowered so I couldn’t see beneath his hood. “Tell me who you are!” I demanded.

Without so much as a murmur, he rolled the bike backwards, dragging me along with him. Losing my footing, I fell forward, letting go of the handlebar. As I went down, I caught my wrist on one of the bike pedals, tearing the skin from my wrist. Crying out in pain, I rolled into the sand and cradled my bleeding arm. Seeing that he had cast me loose, he pedalled as fast and as hard as he could away from me and down the narrow lane towards the cove.

“Come back!” I yelled after him, but he was soon gone, disappearing amongst the rocks and cliffs. Rolling onto my back, I gripped my bleeding wrist in an attempt to stop the flow of blood. It oozed through my fingers, in red sticky rivulets and for just the briefest of moments, I felt dizzy and the world seemed to turn black.

“Are you okay?” I heard someone say.

Opening my eyes, I looked up to see Luke standing over me, a concerned look etched across his face. “What happened?”

“I fell over,” I said, trying to get to my feet.

“Come here,” Luke said, offering me his hand to help me up. It was then that he saw the blood flowing through my fingers and he almost seemed to flinch in horror.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, getting myself to my feet. Again I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed unable to take his eyes off the blood that now ran up my wrist towards my forearm and dribbled from the tips of my fingers. The colour had drained from his face and he looked suddenly unwell.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, and he took a step backwards.

Continuing to look at my bleeding wrist, Luke said, “I’m not very good around blood – it kind of makes me queasy.”

“You’re meant to be a cop,” I winced in pain.

“I know, but I just don’t like the sight of blood, that’s all,” he said, and again I noticed that he couldn’t help but stare at the cut in my arm.

“Well don’t just stand there,” I said. “Give me a hand.”

Then shaking his head, as if coming out of a trance, Luke said, “I’m sorry. Sure.” Then pulling his sweatshirt from over his head, he wrapped it tightly around my arm. I noticed how careful he was not to get any of my blood on him.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked him, as he knotted the sleeves of his sweatshirt around my arm like a makeshift bandage.

“I could ask the same of you,” he said, eyeing me.

“I was taking a run,” I told him. “That was until I started to be followed.”

“Followed?” he asked, sounding alarmed. “By who?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “He had his face covered. But he left me a crucifix outside my room last night.”

“A crucifix?” Luke asked. “Why?”

“I don’t know that either.” I told him.

“Where is he now?”

“Cycled off down there after knocking me to the ground,” I said, pointing in the direction of the rugged path. “Where did you come from?”

“That way,” Luke said, nodding in the direction that I had been pointing.

“You must have passed him then,” I told him. “He was on a bike.”

Shaking his head, Luke said, “No one passed me on a bike.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling confused.

“Sure,” he said. “Now let’s get you back to the Inn, before you bleed to death.”

“You never said what you were doing way out here,” I reminded him.

“Oh,” Luke smiled, “I often drive out here, park up and take in some of the sea views.”

“Where’s your car?’”

“Over there, on a piece of flat,” he said, pointing beyond the rocks. ”There’s a narrow road, but you can get a car up here if you’re careful.” Then wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he led me back down the path.