Season One by Ileandra Young

Author:Ileandra Young
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampire, female author, male protagonist, vampire attack, non beilever
Publisher: Little Vamp Press

Michael jerked awake to the scream of sirens and the dizzying swirl of blue and white lights. ‘No, Steph!’

A hand pressed against his chest. ‘Okay, Sir, stay calm. We’re almost there.’

He blinked.

Rows of white boxes stacked on narrow shelves. Machines with wires dangling from the sides like plastic intestines. The siren, ever present, worming into his brain and scrambling his thoughts. His face roared with agony, from the top of his forehead to the base of his chin.

‘Too loud . . .’ he croaked.

The same voice called out, ‘Kill the siren, Jimmy.’

The shrieks died.

Blessed silence.

‘What’s happening?’ Michael’s tongue lay thick and bloated in his mouth.

‘We’re the response team for your 999 call. You lost a lot of blood and sustained injuries to the face, head and neck. Possible heart attack too. We’re going to the Royal.’ The explanation came from a man in green as he slid a needle into the back of Michael’s hand.

‘Blood?’

‘Follow this light, Sir. Back and forth.’

A brilliant white dot filled his vision.

He squinted. ‘Stop—hurts—can’t see.’

‘Fully dilated.’ The light winked off. ‘Clammy too. Uneven pulse. Breathing erratic. I’m gonna put some fluids on that line.’

Michael tossed his head. ‘Get off—’

‘Please keep calm, sir.’ The paramedic held up a bag bulging with clear liquid. ‘Can you tell me your name?’

Too many questions. Too many hands, all pulling, pushing, prodding.

Michael tried to sit up but a strap across his chest prevented it. ‘Where am I?’

‘An ambulance.’

He gagged on a sudden rush of panic. ‘But Stephanie—where is she?’

‘We’ll talk about this in good time, but you need to keep still.’

He clutched a green clad arm. ‘But Steph—’

‘Is that the woman with you?’

Michael shuddered as her image passed before his eyes. ‘Where is she?’

‘In another vehicle. Sir, calm down or I’ll have to sedate you.’

‘No—she bit me—you don’t get it—she’s dead. I saw—her heart stopped—she isn’t real any more—’

‘Sir—’

‘She tried to kill me!’

The paramedic leaned over him and pulled a strap. The tightness on his chest intensified. Further bands of stretchy black material secured his hips, knees and ankles.

‘No, please don’t do this.’ He heaved against the restraints until pale spots danced before his eyes. ‘You don’t get it—there’s another one. She started it—she bit me—with fangs—’

The paramedic sighed and pulled a thick syringe from a fold-out pack on his lap. ‘This is for your own good.’

Michael gave an impotent roar. ‘Don’t! Please, you have to listen.’

Cold crawled through his hand around the site of the needle, rushing up his body to numb everything.

He slumped. ‘I don’t want to die . . .’

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