Death Row

Chapter 4

Sven’s eyes lit up, he could feel warmth prickle across his skin in anticipation. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to persuade himself he was hallucinating again. His sense of smell had not betrayed him, blood was down there. Human blood. It was fresh too, and Sven didn’t care about who he’d have to kill to get it. 

There was a rusty ladder, leading to god knows where. Sven descended down the ladder swiftly, confused at how there could be a trap door leading below an attic, or how he didn’t notice when he destroyed the staircase. He came to the conclusion that it was just a downstairs passage from the attic to a bedroom. He was probably in the one without the windows, that he payed no attention to. That would explain him missing the room all-together. But as the ladder proceeded to descend further into the darkness he concluded that he was now below the ground. He had passed two floors in the space of five minutes, remembering it took five minutes to get to the attic.

When he finally arrived at the bottom of the ladder, he could hear some strange but nostalgic noise. The sound of feeding, he knew it all too well. There were other vampires here, and he had established a mental link with them as he entered the cluttered room. Most vampires with hyper-advanced senses; usually the ones that have lived over one thousand years, could sense other vampires mentally, even without seeing them. They didn’t sense him though, and he knew it because they would have attacked him when he entered. Vampires generally got along, but interrupting a meal was utter disrespect, and respect was high on the list of priorities for every vampire.

He stepped through the darkness, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the dark, as they did every night he spent awake. He cleared his throat, alerting the two unknown vampires of his whereabouts. 

These were Fawner. Vampires who have spent at least a century without any kind of blood except their own. Which had driven them crazy and caused them to attack and eat any living thing that came close, no wonder they didn’t sense Sven, their undeveloped senses would not allow them. They were stupid though, even though they were ruthless and bloodthirsty, but they attacked in packs; which made them hard to defend against unless you have a well fortified house. 

If this human war had never happened, the stupid things would not be here to further plague the wasteland that was now the earth. Humans, they have to ruin everything. He thought to himself, as he cracked his knuckles in preparation for the upcoming fight. 

He wanted what they were eating, some large fat man they must have found hiding out here recently. Which explained the masses of military weapons, canned food, anime figurines, computer parts and magazines filled with half naked girls. The junk filled every corner of the cramped space, which only added more tension and less movement to the current situation.

Sven could handle two though, especially in riot gear. There were rumours of their disease being able to travel via a bite or scratch, but he knew those weren’t applicable to already turned vampires. Humans possibly, but Sven was never mixed up in their affairs. 

The Fawner were revolting, yellow tinged skin that seemed to hang loosely from their face and blunt fangs that were concealed behind their cracked, bloody lips. Their tattered clothes fell from their body, similar to dead bark clinging to a tree, they were the very parody of everything vampires were.

They bared their stained teeth at Sven, and charged at him in a bloody frenzy. Sven dropped his Remington to the ground, knowing he wouldn’t need it for this battle, his rage was too great; and this was the only way to supress his anger so it could not develop into madness. He needed a fight to keep himself in control of his sanity.

As one of the Fawner swiped at Sven with its nails; he ducked slightly, just underneath the potential blow, and grabbed its arm, pulling it towards him rapidly. He spun the arm in the opposite direction in a swift motion, breaking the bone and bending the arm to a ninety degree angle. The other one advanced, and Sven ripped the broken arm from his first attacker, using the snapped bone to stab the other in the centre of its ribcage. They screeched in a chilling pitch, like the sound of a knife against metal. He was used to the noise, but it always made the hair on the back of his neck stand and caused goose-bumps to shoot down his arms. The one without the arm attempted to grab Sven by the throat, but Sven rushed forwards and delivered a strong head-butt to its forehead; smashing its skull and delivering it to death.