Night Life

Chapter 5: Pseudo-Randomness

“And then Kingsley explained everything to me and… well, I'm pretty sure you know the rest.”
Vic tapped nervously and blinked back the tears he hadn't realised were starting to form in his eyes. It wasn't just that the memory was traumatic. Trying to recall the image of the blurry, faceless figure that attacked him was physically exhausting. At first, Steph couldn't meet his gaze. She was staring down at her shoes, her hands in her jeans pockets. Did she feel guilty for making him go through all that again? Vic couldn't say. She was so hard to read. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she looked back up. She opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it. She turned away and walked back over to the evidence board, tracing her fingertips along the wall as she examined the photos and files again.
“Attacked at night, in a place that wasn't exactly hidden but was quiet and empty at the time. The killer went straight for your throat. It's just like with the others. So why were you different?”
Vic let out a small, dark chuckle.
“You mean, why didn't I have my throat torn out and all the blood drained from my body?”
“I was trying to be tactful about it.”
Vic stood up and shuffled over to stand next to Steph. The pair shared a weak smile. They both knew that there was no easy way to talk about what had happened to him, but it was key to understanding this case that they did.
“I don't know why they didn't kill me. Or why they turned me. Although I doubt they did that on purpose.”
Steph raised an eyebrow and replied “I wouldn't be too sure about that.”
“You think they meant to do…” Vic gestured to himself. “This?”
“I have no idea. But I do know that it's very difficult to turn a human into one of us by accident.”

Vic examined the photos of Christopher Woodman-Lee again. He was looking at a guy in his early twenties who had recently finished university, started a job that he wasn't really what he wanted and had been brutally attacked in the middle of the night. He was looking at himself. It should have been him lying there, neck torn open and lifeless eyes staring up into the camera. So why wasn't it? Why was he still alive, forever changed and thrown into a world he didn't even know existed until a few weeks ago?
Vic's head pounded. For a few seconds, he thought it was just from the stress of recently reliving such an awful ordeal. However, as the headache got worse, other, more familiar sensations began to flood his body. His stomach tightened and twisted as his throat burned and red light began to fill the corners of his vision. The agony was even worse this time. Instead of a slow, dull, throbbing pain, Vic felt like he'd just been hit in the stomach by a sledgehammer. He doubled over, nearly knocking into Steph. He steadied himself on the wall and tried his best to breathe normally, but he could only get in small, short gasps of air before it started to hurt too much. The red cloud was now almost completely obscuring his sight and he could feel his knees were about to give out under him. The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing in comparison to the hunger. Every cell in his body was begging and screaming for nourishment. He had to feed.

“Vic?!”
Victor couldn't see Steph anymore, but he could still hear her voice. She had a strange accent. It was definitely southern and had a hint of poshness. Vic wouldn't have been surprised if she was originally from somewhere in London. However, her pronunciation of certain words, particularly the ones starting with ‘H’, seemed to be slightly off. Vic had wondered if English wasn't her first language, but he'd never asked her about it.
“Vic? What's wrong?”
‘Nothing! I'm fine!’ was what Vic tried to say. What came out, however, was a strained, guttural roar which quickly devolved into a fit of coughing.
Vic's mouth stung, like his own teeth were trying to pull themselves out of his gums. He stumbled forward and tried to steady himself again. This time though, instead of putting his hand on the wall, he put his hand through it. Every part of his body was on fire. Then, Vic felt a pair of cold hands on his face. The burning subsided only a little, but it was enough. His sight slowly began to return, revealing Stephanie’s concerned face staring down at him. As his ragged breathing returned to normal and his body straightened up, Steph's expression changed from concern to anger.
“You fucking idiot!”
The slap that followed was painful, although not unwarranted.