Man Apart

He swallowed the last of his coffee.

"Those of us created later were better off - we knew, were supplied with blood, or obtained it from one another. By that time the program had been declared a failure, stopped, covered-up. It became our job to hunt down and stop the feral Oprichniki - and those they'd infected."

"Is that why you're here?" she said, her voice steady despite her growing fear.

He nodded. "The first Oprichnik, a man called Malyuta Skuratov, is still alive," he said. "I've been assigned to stop him. I followed him here." He smiled wryly "I'd thought I was hunting him...until the park."

He smiled at her. She tried to smile back, but it felt a little sickly.

"What's he like?" she said, trying to keep her voice light.

He looked at her. She sipped her coffee, covering her tension. Outside the window traffic passed by, people strolled past.

"Odious," he said, his face hard. "He seems to have indulged his thirst for blood before the virus drove him completely insane, but he is very far from normal. If you ever meet him, you'll know. He's an evil, cruel man." The shadow of something passed briefly behind his eyes.

Her palms were sweating. "What happens to the ones...bitten...by the..." She waved her hand to show she was struggling with the word. "You know...feral vampires."

"The virus attacks their brains in much the same way - the degradation seems to be quicker if anything - they end up degenerate, craving blood. Fortunately, in low concentrations the virus doesn't enhance its host and they lack the ability to infect others - so there's no cascade effect," he said, toying with his cup. "Strangely, they seem to develop a protective personality towards the person that infected them - and a hatred of other vampires."

Fear crawled over her, gooseflesh on her arms. Her hand massaged the wound on her abdomen beneath the table. Oh, fuck.

"It was men infected by Skuratov who attacked me in the park, probably them who killed the murdered man. I drove them off, but they were in the copse - waiting. If you hadn't come along..."

He smiled warmly but cold sweat was running down her back.

"Alex..." Her voice sounded odd, strained.

"What?"

"Alex... I think I've been bitten."

She watched the colour drain from his face.

"There's a cure, right? A vaccine or something?" she said, speaking quickly, words tumbling out. She was on the verge of sobbing.

He stared at her, as if he wanted to speak but couldn't, his face white.

"Alex...you're scaring me..."

She wanted to scream at him to hold her, to reassure her, to make it all okay, to stop looking at her like that...

"Okay. Sorry. Right..." He looked frightened, concerned. "Okay, start at the beginning... It may not be him..."

Her head dropped, staring down so he couldn't see her face. She didn't even want to think about what had happened; she really didn't want to tell him about it - that would kill any chance of romance between them.

Shit.

It was only when she'd thought the words that she realised how badly she'd wanted it to happen.

Fuck.

Unless he wanted an insane cannibalistic prostitute for a girlfriend...

Yeah, right, she thought.

"Oh shit. Okay, here goes..." she said.

Slowly she explained what had happened, described the man in as much detail as she could. He was pretty distinctive. Long before she finished she could see the truth on Alex's face. It was him.

Alex looked aghast.

She rubbed her face, brushing her tears away, stared back at him defiantly. Weirdly she realised that she was more frightened of seeing the rejection in his eyes than she was of the virus.

Her armour came back down. Who the fuck was he to judge her?

It felt brittle. She felt brittle.

It wasn't fair.

"Taylor - I need to look at your wound. Will you come to my hotel, or shall I come back with you?"

She shook her head, turning to hide her face from him, not to let him see how close to crying she was. "Look, I'll go see a doctor in the morning, don't worry about it."

She grabbed her purse. Stood.

"What? Wait..."

If she stayed any longer she was going to break, she could feel it. Any second now she'd be sobbing on his chest, begging him to hold her, to make it okay...

Alex fumbled with money. As if by magic the waiter appeared - like Mr Benn's fucking shopkeeper, she thought. He got between them, mumbling about the food, asking if they'd enjoyed the meal.

Taylor made for the door. She didn't run but she walked quickly, she knew the area well.

By the time Alex extricated himself she was gone.

He stood at the entrance, looking about, confused. Traffic drove past the bistro, people walked along the pavement. No sign of her.

What the hell had just happened?

He shouted, calling several times: "Taylor!"

People looked. Stared. No Taylor.

For a moment he considered that it could be the onset of the virus, dawning irrationality, anxiety. The thought made him sick. It was too soon, he knew that, but the thought...

He needed to find her. He wanted to find her. Wanted to know what he'd done that was so wrong.

He should have known it. In the park, when she'd come near him, he'd smelt Malyuta on her. He'd dismissed it at the time as the smell of the infected men. Realised now that he should have trusted his instincts.

He checked his watch, just past midnight.

Cure? There was no fucking cure. Infected people had to be 'retired', 'euthanised', 'calmed' - they all meant killed. The chance of the virus mutating - allowing cross infection - was too high, no chance could be taken.

Not Taylor. There was no fucking way he was going to let that happen. He needed to speak to Polina.

He needed to find Taylor.

Taylor first.

******

Alison opened the door a crack, peering out around the chain. Behind her he could see other faces. He didn't think any were Taylor. He wasn't surprised she was so nervous, he'd been hammering on the door so hard it had been shaking in the frame.

"Hi, uh, is Taylor here? I really need to talk to her."

"No, no she isn't," Alison said, her face hard. "What have you done to her? Have you upset her?"

He sighed. "Yes. Yes I have," he said. "But I don't know how. I really need to talk to her... Please."

His candour seemed to disarm her a little. Her face softened. "Look, she isn't here, alright."

"Do you know where she might be? It's really important."

"No, I don't."

"She's probably at Curtis's place." A new voice, shouting from within.

"Curtis's place?" he said. "Do you have the address?"

"No. I can show you."

Alison closed the door, unchained it. Opened it again, wider.

The speaker came forward. A girl, same age as Taylor, shoulder length brown hair, jeans and a grey hooded sweat top.

"Alice, are you sure about this?" said Alison, concerned.

Alice nodded. "Taylor's alright. And she liked him," she said, nodding at Alex, "I could tell."

"Okay. Look Mister -" Alison started.

"Alex."

" - Alex. Curtis is trouble, a real nasty piece of work. If you must go there, leave Alice out of it, okay?"

"I will. Thank you."

He turned back to the car, Alice walking alongside.

"Alex." Alison.

He turned.

"Taylor really liked you, you know. Don't mess it up for her."

He had nothing to say to that.

******

"That one. With the broken door," Alice said, pointing.

"Thank you, Alice. Do you want to go down to the car to wait?"

Alice laughed. "No, I want to watch. I have a strange feeling Curtis isn't expecting you," she said, putting a strange emphasis on the word 'you'.

Alex shrugged. "Stay back, then, okay?"

Loud music was playing in the flat, the beat thumping. He knocked, banging hard on the door.

Nothing.

Impatient, he knocked again, hammering on the door so that the broken bottom panel shook like a cat-flap.

Still nothing.

For a brief moment he smiled at Alice, then he turned and kicked the door off its hinges, sending it smashing into the wall with an almighty crash. The music went off. Alice looked at him, her mouth as wide open as her eyes.

"I have limited patience," he said.

He strode into the flat. "Taylor!" he shouted, stepping over the remains of the door. "Taylor, are you in here?"

The door to the bathroom was open - empty - the one to the right closed. He couldn't be bothered with subtlety now - kicked it out of the frame to fly across what was obviously a bedroom. Empty.

"What the fuck!" a voice said.

When he turned a tall, burly man with short ginger hair was stood there, the thick half of a pool cue in hand.

"Are you Curtis?" he said.

"Fuck no. Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm looking for Taylor. Is Taylor here?"

"What the fuck you talking about, you fucker? You can't come in here like this, I'll fuck you up..." He brandished the cue.

Alex growled, kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backwards into the lounge with a massive grunt of exhaled air. His body crashed into an oversize TV, toppling it backwards with the sound of smashing glass and plastic, before ending up on top of it in the corner. He didn't get up.

"Curtis, I assume?" Alex said, standing in the doorway of the lounge.

Curtis stared, wide eyed and stupid. A bottle of beer in his hand. "Yeah, man - I mean, what the fuck?"

"Is Taylor here?"

"What?"

Alex took a step inside. Ryan groaned heavily.

"I said, is Taylor here?" Slowly and quietly, menace in every word. Limited patience.

Curtis looked at his face, colour draining from his own. "No, man. No, she isn't. I mean - fuck. Look at my crib."

Alex cursed. "Listen. I have to find her. Do you know where she is?"

"No. How should I know where that stupid bitch is?"

His cellphone rang.

He flicked it open. "Hello?"

"Alex? Is that you?" She sounded frightened.

"Taylor! Where are you? What's wrong?"

"Alex. You've got to help me, please. He wants money. He says he'll let me go if you give it to him. Alex...I'm sorry about earlier. I'm frightened."

The phone went quiet.

"Taylor? Taylor!"

The next voice spoke in Russian. "Hello Lyosha."

Damn.

"Malyuta! What have you done with her?"

"Nothing. Yet. She's quite lovely, tasty. I can see why you like her."

"Leave her alone!"

"Gladly. All I want is a little money, enough to see me out of the country, perhaps. And you can have her back - untouched."

"How much?"

"Five thousand. In cash, obviously."

It was clear that Malyuta had a fair idea how much cash he had. This was just one of the drawbacks with avoiding sunlight - it was hard to bank.

"Alright." He checked the time. One fourty-five. "When? Where?"

"Midnight, tomorrow. In the centre of the footbridge over the river, the one opposite the gallery. Do you know it?"

"Yes."

"You will enter from the west bank no earlier than midnight."

"Yes. I understand," he said. "Let me talk to her again."

The phone went quiet for a moment, again.

"Alex?"

"Taylor, listen. I've agreed an exchange with him, tomorrow night, midnight. Just sit tight, okay?"

"Okay Alex."

"Taylor?"

"Yes."

"Remember what I said - about the virus driving people mad, aggressive. Don't do anything to make him angry, alright? Just sit tight. Wait."

"Okay. Alex..."

The phone clicked off.

"Ha, see. Bitch is able to get -"

Almost without thinking, Alex backhanded him across the face. There was a crunch of breaking bone and Curtis seemed to spin in space, flipping over to crash onto the glass topped coffee table, smashing it into a hundred bloody splinters, practically where he'd been standing.

It made him feel a little better.

He took a wide eyed and giggling Alice home.

******

The river was swollen with recent rains, its churning surface brown with sediment. At eleven fifty he stood on the west bank, staring across the river, drinking bitter coffee from a paper cup. He couldn't see anyone on the bridge. He waited, he wasn't going to risk Taylor's life by being early.

He'd already completed one circuit around it - crossing one bridge up from the footbridge, walking past it and crossing one bridge further down. There were the usual people - evening revellers, loiterers, workers - but nothing out of the ordinary.

The footbridge itself was a modern construction of steel and aluminium, suspended from two enormous steel A-frame masts set on the west bank. Running for nearly five hundred feet, between an athletic ground on the east and the commercial centre of the city on the west, it offered no opportunity for concealment. It was, in short, a good place to choose for an exchange.

The money was in a rucksack, slung over one shoulder. It was slightly short of five thousand, some few hundred, but it would have to be enough. He doubted that Malyuta would be counting it too thoroughly anyway.

Midnight. Somewhere far off a clock chimed. He checked the pistol in the waistband of his jeans, hidden by his jacket.

Eyes alert he started onto the bridge. It was lit by a number of floodlights and uplighters set at intervals along its surface, shining with a blueish light. Beneath he could hear the hiss of the water rushing past. There were a couple of people using the bridge, but it wasn't until he was about a third of the way to the centre that he saw Malyuta and Taylor, walking towards him from the other side.

She still wore the dress she'd had on last night, a ladder in one stocking, over it her black puffa jacket. Her make-up was smeared, mascara run all around her eyes, but she seemed to be okay. She was just as pretty as ever, he thought, those blue eyes that had caught his from the first, her full lips. He smiled at her, trying to reassure her.

He stopped short, waiting for Malyuta to take the lead.

"Hello Lyosha," he said, speaking in English. He wore a long black coat, a hat covering his bald head, pulled down low on his face. He held Taylor's wrist in his left hand, the downstream side.

"Malyuta." His eyes never left Taylor. She tried to smile at him, a fleeting curve of her lips, but her eyes betrayed her fear.

For a while there was silence as a man walked past, glancing oddly at them as he hurried by.

"I know you'll find this hard to believe, Lyosha, but it's good to see you again. It's been too long since the Oprichniki were together."

"You're right. I do find that hard to believe."

Malyuta smiled, spoke to Taylor. "There are few of us left. We have spent most of the last thirty years killing one another, but we have much in common. All of us were outcasts, even before we became 'Men Apart'... Sorry, I forget, in the twenty-first century it should be 'People Apart' - there are women vampires too."

Malyuta chuckled in his throat. Alex kept quiet, not wanting to risk angering him.

"Lyosha here is an orphan. His parents died in the Gulag, he was raised by the state - isn't that right Lyosha?"

"Yes, it's right."

Malyuta laughed again. "Something you have in commmon with our friend Taylor, here." He tugged on her wrist, pulling her forward. She flinched.

"Indeed." Alex kept his eyes on Taylor, trying to reassure her.

"You seem to have become quite attached to her, Lyosha."

"Yes, I have. And I've brought the money you wanted."

"Good. Good." Malyuta laughed.

He lifted Taylor up by the wrist - as if she weighed no more than a small child - swinging her over the railings to dangle helplessly above the surging water. It was done in a second. Taylor hung there, shrieking in panic, her legs scissoring the air helplessly, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"No!" Alex yelled, stepping forward.

Malyuta smiled - lowering Taylor slightly so she screamed again. Alex froze, hands away from his body, face frantic - showing he had no hostile intent.

"Alex!" she screamed, kicking helplessly in Malyuta's grip. She had never been so scared. She couldn't swim, the water was surging fifteen feet below her, fast and freezing cold. If he dropped her, she was going to die. She whimpered slightly.

"Put the money down, Lyosha," Malyuta said quietly, eyes narrowed, showing no apparent strain from holding Taylor's weight in one hand.

Taylor's shoe fell free, spinning down to disappear into the churning water. She was staring wide eyed, petrified.

"Okay, okay. Here." He lowered the bag to the bridge, stepping back, hands out. "Just bring her back in...please."

Taylor swung like a pendulum.

Malyuta smiled. "Now, where would the fun be in that?"

He dropped her.

Taylor shrieked in panic.

"No!" Alex screamed, leaping forward, instinctively reaching for her. He didn't pause, shucking his jacket he threw himself over the edge of the bridge, diving into the water after her.

Taylor hit the water with her back, the strength of the current already tearing her along even as she went under. The water was freezing, shock at the icy cold making her gasp for breath - she swallowed water, coughing and choking - suddenly she couldn't breathe, couldn't get air down her throat. It was pitch black, she couldn't even tell which way was up the current was tumbling her about so much. Her puffa jacket soaked up water like a sponge, becoming heavier, dragging her down.

She was going to die.

Desperately she struggled to get her jacket off. It was so cold. The current churned her about. For a brief moment she broke the surface and saw the bridge off in the distance then, still unable to draw breath, she was under again, spinning in the dark. Her chest was burning, her mind screaming at her to breathe... She knew she was thrashing, trying to get up but nothing made sense...she couldn't seem to grip her jacket. It was so cold.

Alex hit the water like an arrow, sliding into its depth. Already he could feel the effects of the cold on his body - his heightened metabolism struggling to compensate, the virus fighting to survive, to keep its host alive. Blood was flowing away from his limbs - trying to keep his core warm. He tried to let the water work for him - surfacing naturally, not trying to swim, letting the current wash him along at Taylor's speed, eyes desperately scanning the surface.

He saw people on the banking pointing, shouting - just ahead.

For a moment the current surged and he saw her, just her blond head on the surface for a moment. He struck out for her, all the strength of his enhanced body fighting against the current. It was like swimming up a mountain, every stroke seemed to bring her no closer, each movement accelerating the chilling of his arms, his legs, his body.

Taylor knew she was panicking, grabbing the water as if it was a ladder she could climb, her numb hands and legs uselessly pedalling water. At least she didn't feel cold anymore, for some reason she felt warm. She closed her eyes. It was a shame, she thought, she'd really have liked to kiss Alex, now she wasn't going to see him again. Somehow that seemed really important. More important than anything else. She wondered if he'd miss her.

Alex reached for her, tried to grab her jacket, but his hands were numb and he couldn't get a grip. She'd stopped moving, her eyes closed. Desperate he tried again, this time he snagged her hair. He gripped it as if his life depended on it, pulling them closer. His other hand got around her neck, pulling her closer, pulling her head out of the water onto his chest, stretching her chin up. For a moment she was absolutely still, like a rag doll, then he felt her gulp air, coughing, thrashing about weakly. Relief surged through him.

He lay still, supporting her. He knew he wasn't strong enough to swim to the shore, the enemy now was cold. If they didn't get out soon hypothermia would be the killer. The current swept them downstream, towards another bridge, one he'd crossed earlier. On it he could see strobing lights - blue and red - people gathered, watching. He lay back, waiting. As they approached, ropes flew from the bank, floatation aids falling into the water ahead of him. Voices were shouting but he couldn't make out what was being said, focused on the nearest aid.