The Vampire of Downing Street and Other Stories Page 5

  While you've been reading my mind like a book, I've been carefully going about my work. I was taught how to hide my thoughts from you many, many years ago, by people who found me long before you found me.

  Letting out a pained gasp, I almost fall.

  Almost.

  Because there is one other thing left for me to do before I can let myself fall.

  I take a step back and then I perform the one final task that has been assigned to me.

  I hurl the key into the Thames, and I wait until I see it disappear under the surface.

  And then finally I allow myself to fall, crashing down against the pavement even as several bystanders rush over to help me. They're fussing, trying to decide which of them should perform CPR, and they have no idea that my heart is being crushed by a creature that reaches out from a building several streets away. One of them is opening my shirt now, getting ready to try heart compressions, but I know these efforts are futile. I don't even want to be saved. As I stare up at the gray sky, and as light drops of icy rain begin to fall, I am satisfied by the knowledge that I fulfilled my true destiny. I played a small role in a vast conflict that even now I do not fully understand. But by God, I played my part.

  “The Order of the Eleven,” I gasp, barely able to get the words out as a man starts performing chest compressions, “will protect me and guide me.”

  When I was five years old, my mother died in a series of car accidents. She died because a monster wanted to use me, to set my destiny. What he didn't realize was that others had already got to me, and had set me as a kind of bait.

  It was not my destiny to give you what you wanted. It was my destiny to steal the key away from the desk, and to later fill you with such rage that you would blow your cover and reveal your true form. By taunting you, I drew you out of the basement, and now you are exposed.

  And you're screaming.

  And the key is lost in the muddy Thames.

  And perhaps, Vampire of Downing Street, you will some day escape your prison. But not today, and not without the key. Not with any help from me.

  So as you read these final thoughts of mine, I have one last message for you:

  You lost. I wasn't like all the others after all.

  Let Me In

  Day 1

  “There are definitely worse jobs, I'll tell you that.”

  I stop for a moment, looking around the sparse cabin, before turning to see that Laurel is watching me with a smile.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  “You're looking at me kinda funny.”

  “Well...”

  She hesitates for a moment.

  “To be honest, Johnny,” she continues finally, “I can't help wondering whether you really know what you've gotten yourself into.”

  “I've done this kind of thing before,” I point out.

  “Really? This extreme? 'Cause I peeked a look at your CV the other day, and I didn't see anything like this. And you seem like... Well, no offense, but you seem like a city boy. Like someone who enjoys his comforts.”

  “I love nature,” I reply. “I love trees and forests and rivers and just, like, the whole great outdoors. Just 'cause I grew up in a city, doesn't mean I can't commune with the natural world. Last year, I even went to the Derrifior festival in Peru. That was a mind-blowing experience. Music, circus acts, performance spaces... Honestly, I'm totally down with the natural world.”

  “Uh-huh. And are you sure you won't go nuts, stuck out here for three months without so much as a day off? And with no human company?”

  “I'm looking forward to it,” I tell her, heading over to the doorway and looking out toward the vast forest that spreads for hundreds of miles in every direction. “The great wilderness. The chance to commune with nature. The chance to disconnect from the rest of the world and be by myself. Frankly, I'd do it for free. I can't believe I'm actually getting paid.”

  I pause for a moment, still watching the forest, feeling a genuine sense of awe at the thought that I'm going to be all alone up here until the end of August. Reaching into my pocket, I take out my phone and take a photo, but then I find I don't have any signal. That's a bummer, but I guess I'll just have to post all my photos and videos when I get home.

  “You know,” Laurel says, coming over to stand next to me, “I did a shift like this once. A little further south, but the same basic idea. Three months all alone in a cabin, just keeping an eye out for anything unusual. Not that I saw anything, of course. It was basically three months of keeping myself company, watching the occasional eagle soar high above, and hiking. Sounds like heaven, right?”

  “It sure does,” I reply with a faint smile, still looking out at the forest. “It sounds like bliss.”

  “And it was, for the first couple of weeks.”

  I turn to her. “What happened after the first couple of weeks?”

  “That's when it starts getting to you. The isolation, I mean. The solitude. Sure, you've got your radio so you can hear another person now and then, and I'm assuming you've brought plenty of books and stuff to do.”

  “I've got hiking gear,” I tell her, “and a digital camera with tons of memory cards, and some painting equipment. And if all of that fails, and if the weather really turns bad, I've got close to eight hundred ebooks. You really don't need to give me the standard talk about staying sane on a job like this. I'm the perfect person to sit up here alone for three months.”

  “That's what they all think,” she mutters, checking her watch. “It's what I thought when I came up here, too. But after a while, the solitude sure started getting to me. I'm not saying I cracked, but I definitely...” She pauses, as if she's searching for the right words. “I was glad to get back to civilization, that's all. There's a reason most people only do one tour out here in the wilderness. It's an important job, and you're playing a big role in the forest conservation project, but I think you'll...”

  Again, her voice trails off.

  “I'll go stark-raving crazy?” I ask, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Nah,” she replies, patting me on the shoulder before heading outside and wandering toward the truck. “You'll be fine. You just might discover a few things about yourself. And of course...”

  She stops and turns to me, and now she seems a little worried about something. After a moment she glances around the clearing that surrounds the cabin, and then she looks toward the trees that spread down the side of the hill in every direction. Biting her bottom lip, she almost seems worried.

  “What?” I ask.

  She turns to me again.

  “Apart from the radio,” I point out, “this is the last human interaction I'll have for three months. You might as well spit it out.”

  “It's nothing really,” she continues, “but...”

  Again, she seems just a little nervous, and finally she steps back toward me.

  “Full disclosure, right?” she adds.

  “Shoot.”

  “Even if it sounds insane?”

  “Especially if it sounds insane. I like insane.”

  I wait, but she's eyeing me with a hint of caution.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You've gotta take this stuff a little seriously,” she replies.

  “Totally, dude.”

  “I mean it!”

  “As do I.” I offer a mock salute. “Scout's honor.”

  “There's an old story about this part of the forest,” she continues, clearly still a little worried about my reaction. “Don't get too focused on it, it's almost certainly nothing, but I figure I should lay it out on the table for you. Some people, over the years, have mentioned something a little odd that happens around here. Mainly down near the river area, but occasionally as far up the hill as this cabin. It's nothing to worry about, but there's one weird little rule you need to follow. Think of it as a superstition.”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I wait for her to trot out some lame ghost story, or some tale about a ho
rned monster that haunts the forest.

  “Part of your job is to help out if anybody goes missing in the area,” she reminds me. “However, there's one time when you definitely shouldn't help, and that's if...”

  She pauses yet again, before taking a deep breath.

  “Let me in,” she adds.

  “Let me in?”

  “Those are the words. It's said that there's a woman who sometimes haunts this forest. I don't know whether you believe in stuff like that. I don't, personally. Well, not really. Well, not most of the time. Well... Anyway, the point is, it's said that this woman sometimes approaches people who are staying in the cabins and asks them to let her in. She doesn't give a reason, she just wants to come inside. She just says those three words over and over again.”

  “Let me in?”

  She nods.

  “For some reason, she has to be invited inside,” she explains. “That's key to remember, okay? So long as you don't intentionally let her in, she can't get to you, and eventually she'll just go away.”

  “Get to me?” I ask, unable to stifle a faint smile. “What is she, some kind of vampire?”

  “Not a vampire.”

  “Then what are you going on about?”

  “Like I said, it's kinda corny. But enough people have experienced her over the years for me to figure that... Well, it might just be someone playing a prank. Then again, you never know. If someone comes out here genuinely needing help, it's your job to do whatever's necessary. But if this random woman shows up, not really asking for help but just asking to come into the cabin, then don't let her in, okay?”

  “What should I do?”

  “Ignore her. It's said that she'll move on eventually.”

  “And what happens if I do let her in?”

  “Well, you...”

  She hesitates, before forcing a smile as she steps back toward her truck.

  “Stay safe, Johnny, okay? Remember what I said, and you'll be fine.”

  “And what happens if I let her in?” I ask.

  “Don't do that.”

  “But what if I do?”

  “Only one person ever let her in,” she continues. “That was a long time ago. Fifteen years, I think.”

  “And what happened to him?”

  She pauses.

  “That's just the point,” she adds finally. “Nobody knows. Radio contact was lost, and when the rotation team came up to check the cabin, there was no sign of him. Just a little blood near the door.” She pauses. “Listen, it's just tied into some conspiracy bullshit about stuff that happened near this place in, like, the early 80's. Just ignore it, it's rubbish. A bunch of local Wicca weirdos sometimes come up here and lay protection charms, something like that. You might run across a few of them, but don't get freaked out. But seriously, if anyone ever knocks on the door and asks you to let them in, don't do it. Trust me.”

  I wait for her to admit that she's joking, but I think she might actually believe this bullshit. Either that, or she's doing a damn good job of playing this story with a straight face.

  “Well, I'll be careful then,” I tell her with a smile.

  “Remember the radio,” she adds, opening the door to the truck and climbing inside. “Don't be a stranger. There's always someone on duty at the main station, and most of the time we're bored out of our skulls, so we don't mind long late-night natters. And don't stress too much about that dumb story. It wasn't this cabin where the guy went missing, it was one a little to the south, and besides... It won't happen. Certain measures were put in place a long time ago. A kind of protection.”

  “Now you're starting to sound like a witch.”

  “You'll be fine. Absolutely fine.”

  “Sure, whatever,” I reply. “Nice try, though.”

  “Nice try?”

  “To spook me.”

  “Johnny -”

  “We can laugh about it in three months' time,” I add. “Maybe over a beer in town?”

  “Just try to enjoy yourself,” she continues, starting the engine. “Like I said, there are definitely worse jobs. Some people come out of the experience completely changed. In a good way. Remember the rules, and you'll be fine.”

  “I'll try to take that approach,” I tell her, adding a friendly salute.

  I watch her drive off along the dirt road, and then I listen to the sound of her truck getting further and further away. I stay completely still until the sound is gone, and then I listen to the faint rustle of the trees all around the clearing. This is going to be my home for the next three months, and hopefully I won't see another human in all that time. Frankly, I think this job is going to be absolute heaven.

  Day 27

  “A deer, maybe? Yeah, I think it's a deer.”

  I hold the dark, pellet-like piece of poop up to the morning light and turn it around for a moment, before looking back down at my guidebook and double-checking.

  “Huh,” I continue, figuring that I was right first time. “I guess it must have been a deer after all.”

  I toss the poop aside before removing the plastic gloves from my hands and getting to my feet. So far, I've identified five separate types of poop, and I'm starting to think that I might be becoming something of a poop expert. I've seen barely any wildlife at all over the past few weeks, which is something of a disappointment, but I've definitely seen evidence that they've been around. This little pile of deer poop, for example, definitely wasn't here when I passed this way two days ago. It's kind of nice to know that, even if I don't see them so much, there are other creatures sharing the forest with me.

  I'm communing with nature, and nature is communing with me.

  Hauling my backpack onto my shoulders, I set off down the hill, making my way toward the glittering river in the distance. The sky is darkening a little and I think there might be rain later, but I reckon I'm safe for a few more hours. A moment later, however, my foot bumps against something on the ground. Looking down, I spot some kind of little wooden figure, with several sticks tied together.

  I reach down and pick the sticks up, and I find that they've been arranged in a star-like formation.

  “Huh,” I mutter, tugging on one side of the object. After a moment I manage to get one of the sticks loose, then another, and finally the whole thing comes apart in my hands.

  Shoddy construction.

  I turn the sticks over, but there's nothing particularly fancy about them. I guess some hippie-type was out here once upon a time and put this thing together. It's weird to think about all the crazy stuff people get up to out here.

  Tossing the sticks aside, I set off through the forest, and then I spot a twisted piece of metal on the ground. Reaching down, I pick it up and see that it's the rusted remains of some old sign.

  “Meltringham Institute for...”

  I can't read the rest, so I throw the sign aside and set off again, heading through the forest in search of more wildlife.

  ***

  “How are you not out of your mind by now?” Laurel asks over the radio, as I sit eating dinner on the cabin's porch. “I've gotta say, I'm almost impressed.”

  “Only almost?”

  “So let's get this weekly log done,” she continues with a sigh. “See anything?”

  “Nope.”

  I hear the sound of her pencil scratching against a notebook.

  “Hear anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “Anything else to report?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay.”

  More scratching, and then another sigh.

  “Same time next week?” she asks.

  “I guess. Unless you wanna stay on the line and chat for a while. I know how lonely you guys must get down at the base station.”

  “Are you kidding? I'm off duty in five minutes and I'm heading straight to the bar.”

  “So that's what you do in the evenings, huh? Bar-hopping?”

  “There's only one bar in this muddy little town,” she grumbles. “It's nothing to
o wild. Just some games of pool, a few beers, that sorta thing. Jealous?”

  I look out at the dark forest, silhouetted against a starry night sky.

  “Not for one second,” I mutter, as I take a deep breath of clean mountain air. “It's a little nippy up here tonight, but that's all good. I'm gonna read, then take an early night, and then get up early to head out in search of wildlife. As you can probably tell, I'm not going nuts at all. In fact, I think I'm growing as a person. I'm really finding myself.”

  “Well, enjoy your wildlife.”

  “I will. Thank you very much. And enjoy your night at the bar.”

  Once she's signed off, I finish my bowl of pasta before getting to my feet and heading to the open door. I look out again at the dark forest, feeling a light breeze blowing across the clearing from the south, and then I slide the door shut. I've been sleeping with the damn thing open most nights, but the weather seems to be taking a little turn and I'd rather not wake up tomorrow morning with a water-logged cabin. As I head over to the kitchen area, I make a mental note to check the water levels in the morning, and then while I wash the dishes I start thinking about taking a trip to the river once the sun comes up.

  Feeling tired, I go back to the desk and check some papers, and then I glance at the glass door.

  “What the hell?” I gasp, stepping back so fast I almost fall over a stool.

  A woman is standing outside on the porch, staring in at me. She looks young, maybe early twenties, with longish red hair and unblinking eyes.

  For a few seconds, I can't quite believe she's really there. All I can do is stare back at her, before finally I realize that maybe she's lost. Hell, if she's out here all alone at this time of night, she has to be lost.