Cold-Blooded Kin: An apocalyptic horror novel (Dying Breed Book 2) Read online

  Officer David Yorke was doing his best to forget about the grisly state of the body he was guarding in the woods. Despite his disgust he found his eye inexplicably drawn to it.

  He was getting too old for this shit. Time to consider a change of career, he thought with a grimace and began walking back to the town.

  The bitter chill in the air made him pull his jacket tighter around himself. He clapped his hands to restore some of the feeling in his fingers. He had always suffered from bad circulation, and it returned harder each winter.

  He scanned the trees, their branches dark against the white of the air around him. They looked harsh, almost skeletal. Threatening.

  Yorke mourned this feeling as he had lived in this village all of his life. He had played in these woods as a child – long before the fences had gone up – and knew them well.

  As he walked, the wind slammed into him, surprising him with its force. His eyes watered with the intense cold. While he recovered, he rubbed them. His breath came hard, as if the gale had torn the air from his chest.

  For a moment he felt panicked, although he didn’t know why. The feeling passed when he opened his eyes and caught a deep breath.

  As he did his best to pick his way through the trees, everything around him was enveloped in a thick fog. The fog seemed to lower the temperature and made his breath plume in front of his face.

  He looked around, suddenly realising that he had no idea where he was, in spite of his childhood explorations of this very place.

  The panic stayed at bay, kept back by years of disciplined thinking. He looked around and tried to get his bearings. Walked deeper into the fog, back towards what he took to be home.

  He heard footsteps all around him, cracking the branches and stirring up the mud.

  ‘Hello?’ he called out, then scolded himself. With what had happened in the town recently, he was an easy target; an old man lost in the fog.

  He refrained from calling out again, in case it was the town’s terroriser who was in the woods with him.

  The footsteps continued, seeming to come from all around him. Panic began to well up inside him like a brick of ice that sent chills flashing round his body with every frantic beat of his heart.

  Then the footsteps stopped. Suitably relieved, he picked up his pace, wanting to get back home. Maybe explaining to Betty why he had walked out of a well-paid job would be the least of his worries.

  Surely he should have been at the reservoir by now?

  He hadn’t gone the wrong way, had he?

  He stopped and looked around, seeing nothing but the rolling fog and the occasional angular, jutting tree limb. He continued walking in the direction he was heading.

  Suddenly the footsteps picked up. Louder this time, crashing through thickets and branches like something being chased. His ears picked up heavy, animalistic breathing. Like the footsteps, it seemed to come from all around him.

  His nerve broke and he ran. He blundered through the trees, the branches slashing at his face and arms and chest and legs, like they wanted to hold him captive for whatever lurked in the fog.

  His world turned upside down, then right way up, continuing seemingly ad infinitum. His mind, slowed by panic and the stress of being chased, finally told him he was falling.

  The fall took an age but then he hit the floor. Although the landing jarred his bones and knocked even more breath from his aching lungs, he realised he hadn’t fallen far. He dragged himself to his feet, feeling more branches scraping at him. His breath was loud in the quiet of the forest.

  He slowed to a walk, trying to give his pounding heart chance to rest, and listened for sounds of the things in the woods around him. Again, they seemed to have fallen still. His panic lifted a little and he started to think he was going to get home without trouble.

  His quaking legs dropped him down a steep hill. He rolled most of the way to the bottom, screaming and moaning until his back curled around a tree trunk and sent waves of agony crashing over him.

  He let out a moan, feeling utterly sorry for himself. Tentatively, he tried to move. For a moment, he was convinced that hitting the tree trunk had snapped his spine, leaving him paralysed and helpless, but he realised he could move. Still, his poor back had seen better days.

  He used the tree to pull himself back to his feet and stood. He was unsteady on his feet, but a few steps improved his balance.

  The feeling of being hopelessly lost returned. The fog seemed to thicken as he picked his way through the stripped carcasses of trees that waited for the return of spring and its life-giving touch.

  He found himself in a clearing. The fog was less dense here, staying in a rough circle around the edge of the treeline. He heard no footsteps, just a strange creaking noise.

  ‘Just the wind in the trees,’ he told himself.

  With a shudder, he looked up at the three stout trees at the north end of the clearing, the infamous ‘Hanging Trees.’ His father had warned him about them when he was a kid. In days gone by, the villagers had hung criminals from the sturdy branches of these huge trees.

  ‘Behave yourself or you’ll end up on one of the Hanging Trees,’ the older residents of Rook’s Foot Canyon would say with malicious glee.

  Anyone found in the woods risked being taken to them too; evidently dark days had come round again.

  Through the edges of the fog, he could see the rough outlines of the Hanging Trees. He stumbled over the jagged rocks and jutting tree roots which made up the floor of the clearing.

  The creaking sound continued as he neared the edge of the treeline. As he drew closer, he saw a blood-covered strand of rope swinging from one of the thick branches. The figure that hung from it had been dead for some time, its head lolling forward against its chest.

  Yorke was glad that it did, for it prevented him seeing the face and having nightmares. He found himself unable to take his eyes from the figure as it continued to creak on its rope.

  There was another body at the base of the tree, dark patches of raw muscle exposed by what, even at this distance, were obviously teeth marks. The man’s pale flesh was covered in dripping slicks of blood.

  A scream leapt out from Yorke’s throat when the body raised its head and looked at him. Its eyes were milky white with cataracts, but at the centre of the pupils a pinprick of fierce orange light blazed.

  The heat from the eyes seemed to bore into him. As the figure climbed to his feet and darted towards him, Yorke finally found the motivation to flee the macabre scene.

  Yorke didn’t care how much noise he made. He tore through the trees making a veritable cacophony.

  Behind him, he heard the creature’s ragged breathing. It was gaining on him, he didn’t need to look back to know that.

  It made hungry noises, already seeming to imagine the atrocities it was going to inflict on his hapless body. He cried out as he tripped over.

  He looked up into a face that was ashen and stretched so taut that cracks were appearing in the skin, shedding blood down its cheeks like crimson tears. It looked like the skin was separating into scales. Dried blood formed a rough goatee shape around the apparition’s mouth and its hands were still coated with rust-coloured stains.

  Somehow the eyes were the worst thing about it. They were cold, almost reptilian, and seemed to stare right through him, to his core.

  He heard sounds in the woods all around him, and hoped it was his colleagues come to save the day. His frantic cries went unanswered.

  Unseen eyes crawled across his skin.

  He pulled his gun and aimed it into the creature’s face. It showed a complete lack of fear. In fact, its lips curled in a hideous parody of a grin.

  He managed one shot that punched into its shoulder and sent a crimson plume of gore and bone fragments flying out of its back.

  Its smile seemed to widen then it lunged at him and batted the gun out of his hand. It was on him within the blink of an eye, ripping, gouging, tearing.

  Duggan heard a rustling in
the trees. He glanced over to where the sound had originated, the same place he had been looking earlier.

  ‘It’s a bit edgy out here,’ Hennessee agreed. ‘It’ll do that to ya.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Make your imagination run riot.’

  ‘I ain’t bothered bout my imagination, I’m pretty numb that way. I’m more concerned with the idea of running into more of those things that we were just wrestling with.’

  ‘Ah, great. Now I’m imagining that too.’

  He glanced behind him, thought he saw a pair of glowing orange eyes. Looked away. Looked back. They were gone.

  ‘Yep. Sure does mess with your mind out here.’

  No sooner had he begun to relax than a bloodcurdling scream echoed around the woods.

  ‘That wasn’t far from us,’ Duggan said.

  He and Hennessee drew their guns in unison. Duggan had his Taser in his free hand too.

  ‘Eyes open, Randall,’ Duggan said, a grim smile on his lips.

  Duggan saw a dark shape moving ahead of them in the bushes. He raised a finger to his lips. Hennessee nodded.

  Duggan moved in with the utmost care to avoid cracking a branch and giving away their position.

  He reached the tree trunk and raised his gun to head height.

  Before his finger depressed the trigger, a screaming, blood-covered figure bolted from the cover of the trees.

  Officer Dale Carroll immediately began babbling upon seeing Duggan and Hennessee.

  ‘Thank God. Everyone’s gone. They left me here to keep an eye out for back up. I think something got Yorke I’m sure it was him I heard screaming. I don’t know where the rest of them are.’

  ‘Shh,’ Duggan said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Chief, I lost everyone.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Let’s worry about getting outta here.’

  ‘What about forensics?’

  ‘They’ll have to fend for themselves,’ Duggan cut in. ‘We ain’t waiting around here to die.’

  Carroll’s face dropped as he heard something moving in the trees behind them. The three of them turned to look at the same time.

  ‘You got a gun on ya?’ Duggan asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Carroll gulped.

  Duggan tried not to worry the poor bastard; it was creepy enough out here as it was.

  ‘Just keep your eyes open. That’s all I’m gonna say. And pull that trigger if ya need to.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Ok, Randall, let’s get him back to the car.’

  They got Carroll back to the car without incident.

  He assured them he’d keep watch from there. He lied and said he’d be okay when in fact he was on the verge of panic.

  As soon as Hennessee and Duggan had left, he begun to feel uneasy. He could tell he was being watched but saw nothing when he scanned the woods around the Hanging Trees.

  ‘Man the fuck up,’ he muttered aloud.

  His elbow depressed the locking mechanism, not that he had any confidence it would hold up against an attack by whatever was lurking in the woods, but it did somehow make him feel safer. His hand shook around the butt of his gun.

  Out in the woods, Duggan and Hennessee were becoming increasingly worried. Every creak of the branches seemed to be a lurking predator, waiting to sink its teeth and claws into them.

  ‘Snap out of it,’ Duggan said, annoyed by the childlike fears which had begun to worm their way into his mind. Still, he knew the nerves would keep him alert so he was thankful for them.

  He looked around, to show himself there was no one watching him and put his mind at rest.

  It did the opposite. He saw a pair of glowing orange eyes, only a pinprick of light, but blazing brightly. They stared right at him. They were gone within the blink of an eye. He looked around, amazed but terrified.

  ‘Pull it together,’ he muttered. ‘Nothing there.’

  ‘You ok? Hennessee asked.

  ‘Thought I saw something.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Can’t see it now.’

  He looked back and the eyes were still gone, although he could tell he was still being watched.

  Carroll had seen something moving in the woods. He hadn’t gotten a good enough look at it to tell what it was – which was probably a good thing, he reasoned – but he had definitely seen it. And he doubted it was one of his colleagues. Too big. His stomach churned at the mere thought of it.

  His finger kept darting to the trigger. What the hell was keeping everyone? He tried to radio but there was no reception out here in the woods.

  His phone also had no reception. He cursed and banged it off the dashboard.

  Waited impatiently for a signal.

  Still nothing.

  With a sense of dread, he noticed that the sky was starting to darken a little. It was after four now. Half four would soon come, bringing darkness upon the town. He loathed the thought of being out here after dark.

  Duggan cursed as the heavens opened. After only a few minutes, he was soaked to the skin, his clothes clinging to him like in the wet t-shirt competitions he liked to watch on TV. He sought shelter under the branches of the nearest tree.

  ‘Can’t see shit out here,’ he said.

  ‘I know. Getting dark too. What do ya wanna do?’

  He heard footsteps in the distance. He wanted to call out, to see if it was a friend, but he knew it was a bad idea to give away his location.

  ‘I fucking hate it out here. Creepy as shit. How many guys are missing?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘What they like? Tough or still wet behind the ears?’

  ‘Thompson’s tough. Fallon,’ Hennessee seesawed his hand back and forth.

  ‘Fuck it. They can make their own way back. Let’s get the hell outta here.’

  Carroll checked the dash clock only to find that a mere ten minutes had passed. Jesus, he was bored. Even the overwhelming paranoia he felt wasn’t enough to occupy his mind.

  He took a tentative glance around again and looked back, knowing that these woods had a way of playing tricks with the minds of the lost.

  The woods still seemed quiet, but he could tell something was there. Watching.

  Waiting.

  A dark shape raced through the trees to his left. He and pointed his gun towards the darting figure.

  Without stopping to ask questions, he opened fire.

  ‘Fucking hell, man,’ a furious voice came back.

  ‘Shit, I’m sorry,’ he said, upon seeing a furious-looking Duggan emerge from the treeline.

  ‘You nearly took my fucking head clean off,’ Duggan scowled. Then burst into laughter. ‘What a rush.’

  ‘You find the other guys?’

  ‘Nope. But it’s starting to get dark and Randall informs me they’re tough guys so we figure they’re either already out or they’ll be able to find their way okay.’

  Carroll nodded.

  ‘So, get outta my seat then,’ Hennessee said.

  Carroll apologised and moved onto the passenger seat.

  Already, the shades of night had begun to swallow the sky.

  Thompson and Fallon had seen a dark figure in the distance and had pursued it into the woods, in their excitement forgetting that night was fast approaching.

  The figure weaved through the trees, headed away from town.

  They were fast, but the figure was faster and seemed to know its way. After a ten minute chase, they lost it, although they could sense it wasn’t far away.

  With a bone chilling fear, they realised they were now lost. Fallon squinted through the trees, trying to figure out where they were, but it was hopeless.

  ‘No idea where we are, before you ask,’ Thompson said. ‘May as well spin round a few times and set off in whatever direction we end up facing.’

  Fallon shrugged. It was as good an idea as any. He closed his eyes, spun around a few times and set off.

  Their hands
clammy and white-knuckled around their guns, they walked carefully; the carpet of roots and jagged rocks looked like a fine way of getting a broken ankle.

  ‘Let’s get the fuck outta here,’ Fallon said. ‘This place is making my skin crawl.’

  ‘You got much ammo? I ain’t even got a full clip.’

  ‘Nah, but we should be okay. I doubt we’ll need to fire.’

  He shrugged. ‘Those screams before…’

  ‘Ah we’ll be fine. Get moving I want to get home.’

  The pile of rubble was starting to dwindle. Abbott had had the bright idea of pulling the bottom of the pile away, and this had served to make the top fall down.

  Mark had nearly gone with it until Abbott’s barked curses had made him beat a hasty retreat.

  They saw light from the other side beginning to filter through the gap at the top of the tunnel.

  ‘Reckon we should leave it like that and climb through,’ Abbott said.

  Jake furrowed his brow.

  ‘Think about it,’ Abbott said. ‘If there are any of those things on the other side the last thing we want to do is make it easy for them to get to us. We should fit through there, but I doubt they will.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s right,’ Mark said. ‘Besides, if we move all of that pile, we’ll not have much energy left to walk.’

  ‘Good point,’ Abbott said. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘If we get rid of the whole pile we can take the car,’ the man said.

  ‘True,’ Mark said. ‘But Sadie told me there are jeeps every five miles or so up and down the tunnel.’

  ‘We could have to walk five miles to get to one though,’ Jake said.

  ‘Trust me,’ Abbott said. ‘If these guys are as tight on security down here as they were up above we’ll have our hands full. A silent approach might be for the best.’

  With that he started scrabbling through the gap at the top of the rubble like a rat going up a drainpipe.

  Mark and Jake exchanged a glance and a shrug then followed.

  Well, spinning in a circle hadn’t helped. If anything, Fallon and Thompson were even more lost. Above them, the meagre light from the sky was fading, blocked by the clouds and the canopy of branches above them. They both felt utter dread, convinced that whatever had killed Yorke was only metres away.