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  Blood Water

  Dean Vincent Carter

  They’re all dead now. I am the last one.

  Dr Morrow can’t identify the ‘thing’ he found living in the lake but he knows it’s dangerous… then it goes missing…

  Caught in the flood that is devastating the town, brothers Sean and James stumble across Morrow and the carnage left at his lab. The missing specimen is some kind of deadly parasite that moves from person to person, destroying its hosts in disgusting, gory ways.

  The death toll will rise along with the waters unless the brothers can track down the homicidal specimen and find a way to destroy it.

  Dean Vincent Carter

  BLOOD WATER

  This book is dedicated to Tenbury Wells.

  Home is where the heart is.

  PROLOGUE

  Thursday 14 September

  I managed to steal another hour in the laboratory tonight to examine the specimen before retiring to bed. I am beginning to understand that I have in my grasp something quite unique but potentially dangerous. I must keep checking my equipment to ensure everything is secure. If the specimen is as intelligent as I suspect, then it needs to be properly contained.

  Holland is like a leech – he won’t leave me alone, always asking what I’m up to, what my plans are… He hangs around like a bad smell. It’s not like he has nothing to do, and the recreation room is full of books and DVDs. I wish he’d find someone else to pester. I doubt he knows what I’m doing though. I hope not. I get the feeling he wouldn’t be able to keep a secret, especially one as important as this. It has become necessary to keep an eye on him at all times.

  Friday 15th September

  I introduced the specimen to a trout from the lake today. Incredible! I was dumbstruck and could do nothing but stare at it for several minutes. It entered the trout through its mouth and just disappeared inside. The specimen reminds me a little of a hagfish, or one of those ghost slugs that turned up in Wales last year and because of this I assumed it might attempt to eat the trout from the inside, but then the fish started to behave oddly. Its swimming pattern was erratic, clumsy, as though it was learning to swim for the first time. It would repeatedly attempt to leap out of the water. I had the impression that the fish was no longer in control of its body, and that the specimen was somehow in the driving seat.

  The trout started to die after only an hour or so. Its colour changed dramatically and its life ebbed away. It was in an awful state – seemed to have practically liquefied. I wonder if the specimen infected it with something. The creature emerged from what was left of the trout and actually started to swim in the water like the fish, something I hadn’t seen it do prior to its invasion. Had it learned? Had it absorbed information from the fish during its occupation? I’m going to try it on one of Sally’s snakes later. It’ll end in death for the poor creature, but Sally need not find out. It is in the interest of science after all. Perhaps the specimen will learn from the snake too and be able to imitate it. God, I can’t wait to find out. I’ve never been so excited. I must remember to sedate the snake first in case it tries to attack the specimen. I must also see if the specimen can survive out of water, though I don’t want to risk harming it at this exciting stage.

  Amazing! Success. As I’d hoped, the specimen did indeed pull the same trick with the python. The gestation period was again brief, but when it emerged, it slithered along the snake’s tank, just like its host would. I was stunned. What is this thing?

  Just before bed I noticed a shadow outside my room. It disappeared before I could discover its owner. It must have been Holland though. I should have words with him.

  Saturday 16 September

  Rain today. I didn’t have any courses, but some of the others did. They cancelled them. Pointless going into the woods or near the lake in weather like this. Most of them decided to watch films in the recreation room so I managed to get some more time to myself in the lab. We have to leave the centre by next Thursday so the maintenance people can come in. I must finish my initial research by then in case anything is disturbed or broken while I am away. It is not normal procedure, but I may even try to sneak the specimen home with me. I’ll be in trouble if anyone finds out, but I hate the idea of my work being interrupted.

  I still have no idea where it came from, and my searches by the lake for more have been fruitless. I decided to confide in young James about my find, since he is the most trustworthy person here. I asked him to look for more examples of the specimen while I was busy with other work, but so far, he has had no luck. I might ask him to try again next Wednesday when he is back. Perhaps this creature is alone in the world. Perhaps there are no more.

  Holland has a habit of bumping into me late at night and asking me about my day, making it clear at the same time that he already knows. What the hell is his problem? Has he been stalking me? I wish he would find something productive to do instead of bothering me all the time.

  I can’t believe it. The specimen has gone! I don’t know how it could have freed itself – the container was sealed tight. My God – what if this thing gets into a human being? It could be lethal. If I find it, I might have to destroy it. I don’t know if it is safe to keep it here any more.

  I am convinced Holland stole it. I haven’t seen him for hours. Sally says he’s locked himself in his room. I went and banged on his door several times but there was no answer. He has to come out sooner or later. When he does, there’ll be trouble.

  CHAPTER 1

  Sunday 17 September

  ‘Hey, Sean!’

  He turned to see his brother James jogging towards him.

  ‘How are you feeling, mate?’

  ‘Yeah, not bad,’ Sean replied, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘It’s pretty hot though – reckon some people will find it difficult.’

  ‘Yeah. Lucky to have a break in the weather though. Would have been miserable if it had been raining again. The ground seems to have dried out a bit.’

  They stood at the edge of the large green meadow by the car park, watching all the other entrants warming up and drinking the free water provided by the race organizers.

  ‘Mum and Dad not arrived yet?’

  ‘No,’ James replied. ‘They’ll be here though. Dad wanted to finish painting the fence before they left.’

  ‘Oh, OK.’

  ‘I had a jog around the lanes earlier. Injury’s getting better, but the foot still isn’t back to normal. Wish I was doing the race with you. I should have been more careful in that half-marathon.’

  ‘I’d have only tried to keep up with you anyway. And that wouldn’t have been a good idea.’ They both chuckled.

  Just then an announcement came over the public address system, calling for the runners to assemble at the start line.

  ‘Right, well, better get over there. See you at the finish if you’re sticking around.’

  ‘Yeah, course,’ James replied. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Cheers, bro.’

  Sean made his way through the crowd of other runners, some still stretching muscles and limbering up. He was starting to feel thirsty again, but knew there were water stops on the way, and besides, he’d run in the heat before and had no problems. Still, he should have had more to drink beforehand, it was common sense. He wandered into the middle of the large group and waited for the horn. Looking around at the other competitors in their different coloured running tops and shorts, he started to feel excited – and confident too. He hadn’t done the annual Orchard Wells ten-kilometre run before, so although he knew the area well, he wasn’t too sure of the route; however, he’d studied the map, and it looked like there were only a couple of hills to deal with.

  The countdown began. Sean could feel the heat and the anticipat
ion of the crowd around him. Everyone was quiet, tensed; then the horn sounded and they began cheering. Sean started his stopwatch and set off, running with the others when a gap opened. The group soon spread out further as the faster runners at the front moved ahead. As they left the meadow and surged across the car park, Sean turned to wave at James who raised his hand in return.

  He picked up a little speed as they climbed the hill, ready to slow down if the ascent became too tough, but the ground levelled out and then sloped down. He found a pace he was comfortable with and stayed with it, keeping his eye on his stopwatch and the mile markers that cropped up along the way. Three and a half miles in, he reached the first big hill. He took it at a slightly slower pace, and was able to get to the top without too much trouble, his breathing heavier but not a problem. There was a water station there, so he grabbed a cup, drank half of it while still moving and poured the rest over his head. He was disheartened to see another large hill up ahead, but he tried to keep up the pace, reluctant to slow down and walk like many of the other runners. He pushed on, perspiring, panting, driving himself forward, until eventually the top of the hill came into view.

  Five miles gone, the end was in sight, but Sean was struggling. He was finding it harder and harder to stick to the pace he’d set himself, and his muscles were aching. He had forgotten to take on enough water, but he pushed on, determined to get to the finish without slowing down. He kept up with a runner in front, then pushed harder to overtake. His throat was paper dry and his running vest felt soaked. I must be nearing the finish now, he kept thinking, wondering how one mile could seem so long. He carried on, gasping, veering off course a little every now and then, until he saw the other competitors leaving the road and heading down a narrow tree-lined lane. Great, he thought. About time.

  He decided to speed up now that the end was near, pushing his body as hard as he dared despite the pain in his lungs. He turned off the road and hurtled down the lane, trying to control his body at the increased speed. Suddenly something felt very wrong: his feet seemed detached, his body heavier and his vision cloudy. He felt like someone or something had hit him on the head and he swerved to the side, colliding with a loose iron railing, nearly falling, but somehow managing to stay on his feet. He heard the railing crash to the ground and a nearby sheep bleat in surprise, but there was no time to worry about that now.

  He looked at his watch again, finding it hard to focus: this could be his best time ever. He had to speed up and use every last ounce of energy if he was going to make this race count. It was no longer a casual race, a bit of fun; it was everything to him, all important.

  He emerged from the lane into the large field – a crowd of people were clustered around the finish line at the far end. His feet still felt like foreign objects, and he now realized how much he was weaving to and fro. Something was definitely wrong, and it was more than just exhaustion, but he was still ignoring it, pushing himself to the limit. To the spectators he looked like a drunkard, or someone staggering injured from a battlefield.

  Thoughts swam in his head. He finally understood that there was a problem, but he had no idea what. He lurched on, seeing what looked like people running towards him. Was that James at the front? It looked like him. In seconds his brother was right in front of him, telling him to stop: he was still moving though, resisting his brother’s attempts to halt him, but then it registered. He was in trouble. All at once a black car appeared next to him. Where had it come from? And Mum was there too now. James was telling him to sit down.

  Then they were getting him into the passenger seat; the owner of the vehicle – a man he didn’t recognize – was asking him if he was all right. He didn’t know though, he couldn’t really tell. They drove off to the other end of the field. He saw other runners finishing. Not him though. For some reason he wasn’t allowed to finish the race. Voices merged into each other, his vision swam and he started to panic.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ten minutes later Sean was sitting in the St John’s Ambulance tent, an oxygen mask attached to his face, his hair matted to his forehead by sweat. He’d had some water and cola to drink, but he was still feeling awful. At his request they’d escorted him to the finish line so that he could complete the race, but that had just made things worse. His vision was swimming; he couldn’t focus on anything. His muscles felt stretched and like jelly, unresponsive. He looked at his arms and legs and barely recognized them.

  He could remember little of the race now, and even less of what he’d done that morning. His brother and parents had spoken to the St John’s Ambulance man who’d picked him up in his car. The initial consensus was that he’d succumbed to heat exhaustion. The insufficient levels of water in his body combined with the heat from the sun had starved his brain of oxygen. He’d dehydrated quickly, and the situation had just gone from bad to worse. He sat there inhaling the oxygen, removing the mask every now and then to drink some more cola. Apparently the sugar would help him recover, but he had felt like telling the St John’s Ambulance man that he wanted to go to hospital. None of the people around him had any idea how bad things really were.

  Eventually though, after nearly an hour, he agreed to try walking to the car. Mum and Dad helped him, staying close in case he felt faint. They stopped by a mauve Vauxhall Astra, but when it became clear that this was dad’s car, Sean panicked.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ his father asked, seeing the concern on his face.

  ‘Is this the car?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Dad replied, almost laughing.

  ‘I don’t recognize it.’

  ‘Come on, get in.’ His dad opened the passenger door and helped Sean in. Mum and James got in the back.

  Sean shook his head, looking around the vehicle, at the seats, the dashboard, the radio. None of it was familiar, none of it made sense. They left the car park, the other runners, the crowd of spectators and the sound of the voice over the public address system, encouraging the late finishers. As they drove through town Sean tried desperately to remember things, even the simplest things, but only fragments were clear; it felt as though his brain was collapsing, falling apart. His vision seemed stretched, and the sounds he heard as they passed people and other traffic were distorted, louder than they should be. What if I’m going to be like this for the rest of my life? he thought. What if it gets worse and I end up disabled? The panic rose, but he was unwilling to voice his concerns in case they became fact.

  When they got home Dad helped Sean out of the car and guided him towards the back door. ‘Everything will be right as rain soon. Come on.’ He unlocked the back door and they all went in. Immediately Sean was hit by more unfamiliarity. The kitchen felt wrong. The table and chairs in the small dining area were also wrong – the tea, coffee and sugar containers… the toaster… completely wrong. It was as though someone had sneaked in while they were out and completely redecorated and refurnished. What the hell did it mean?

  As if sensing his thoughts his brother said: ‘Relax, mate, it’s just the effects of heat exhaustion. Your brain’s suffered a kind of attack and needs a while to get back to normal. This happens to a lot of people who’ve experienced what you have. It’ll pass.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Sean replied, still finding the whole experience deeply unnerving. Part of him was convinced he’d been through some kind of time warp and had lost several months of his memory. That would explain why everything looked different. But that was crazy.

  He managed to get upstairs without help and Mum ran his bath while he sipped a cool drink his brother had poured for him. Incredibly he started to feel better. He sank into the bath, letting his whole body relax, unmoving for several minutes until he heard his dad’s voice through the door.

  ‘Sean? Everything OK?’

  ‘Yeah, Dad, fine.’

  ‘OK.’

  He heard footsteps fading away down the stairs.

  Sean’s vision was more or less restored, his muscles were now responding normally and he felt a lot better
. After his bath he went into his room and lay on the bed. He closed his eyes, counted to ten then opened them again. Various things were still unfamiliar to him. The general layout of the room was right – the position of the door, windows and bed – but the bed seemed bigger, the duvet was completely foreign to him, as were his chest of drawers and alarm clock. He sighed, rubbed his damp brown hair, then turned onto his side and closed his eyes again. Maybe things would be better in the morning.

  CHAPTER 3

  Monday morning came and went, and Sean was surprised when he opened his groggy eyes to find it was already five past twelve.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he said, rising onto one elbow; then, at a loss for anything more intelligent to say: ‘Shit.’

  He got out of bed, went to the bathroom, then stood on the landing, listening for any sign of Mum downstairs. She didn’t work at the hospital on Mondays. Sean waited a moment or two, until he heard a cough and the sound of a newspaper being shuffled.

  ‘Mum?’

  There was a brief pause before: ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m supposed to be at school.’

  ‘I know but I didn’t want you going in today,’ Mum said, turning a page of the paper. ‘Graham said you’d be better off resting for a day or two before going back. You need to take it easy. You gave your dad and me quite a scare yesterday.’

  He thought about it and decided that he didn’t particularly want to argue with his mum’s decision.

  ‘Go back to bed. I’ll bring you up some lunch in a bit.’

  ‘Haven’t had breakfast yet.’

  ‘All right, I’ll bring that up too,’ she replied, joking.

  ‘OK,’ Sean smiled. ‘Who’s Graham?’

  ‘He’s the man from St John’s Ambulance who looked after you yesterday. I know his wife, Jean.’