The Purging

Death or Dishonour

CHAPTER 25

After a long day of joyous slaughter, Ahmu's many children rest under the evening sun. Old veterans and newly turned alike lie one on top of the other in a dozy pile, soaking in the last of the day's light. Sweet dreams of disfigured corpses and victims fleeing in fear dance about inside their heads.

The spiralling pyramid of fur stretches out for miles around. Nestled into the middle of the pile at the very apex of the heap is a single scorched vampire. Curled up in the fetal position, Torrig remains as still as he possibly can. If he remains motionless, it's less likely the mongrels will start using him as a chew toy again. They could do much worse than that, and have been doing so regularly since he was handed over to Ahmu as punishment for failing his former master. Hellish visions of recent experiences will haunt his broken psyche for years to come.

When he’s satisfied that all the mongrels around him are safely off in dreamland, an umpteenth attempt at escape is made. Soft, careful steps are taken towards precious freedom. He's certain that in a footrace, he can outrun the mongrels but a nice, big head start will help. Every second passes like an eternity as he draws closer and closer to the edge of the pile. What few fingers he has left are chewed down to the bone by the anxious vampire.

A single jackal's slumber is disturbed as Torrig passes by. It pounces onto his back, grinding and gyrating its pelvis. Being dry humped by one of the horde is just as repulsive to Torrig the hundredth time as it was the first. Between the mongrel's excited bouts of fevered grunting, he struggles to wrestle himself free. His objections do not rise above a whisper so as not to waken any others, “Get off me you fucking rat.” Reaching back with his one good arm the jackal is dislodged with an elbow to the snout. A swift flick of the wrist spins its head around backwards. Its corpse falls to the ground with an audible thud. There is stirring among the mongrels in the vicinity, but none rise to their feet.

Regaining his bearings, Torrig continues tip toeing along on his set course. Finally clear of the fuzzy cuddle puddle, he pauses to get the lay of the land. Sand dunes stretch out as far as the eye can see. It's definitely Africa, that much is certain, but where in Africa? Memory and concentration feel far out of reach. So much of recent events is a blur of agony and degradation, “How long have I been here? For fuck's sake! Where is here?” Without any particular destination in mind besides freedom, he sets off due north. Unfortunately for Torrig, escape is not in the cards. A combination of weeks spent out in the daylight and a steady diet of the horde's desiccated leftovers have rendered his body weak and useless. Barely two kilometres are covered before exhaustion overwhelms and the conscious world melts away. The voice that intrudes upon his rest is one that he'd hoped to never hear again.

“There you are. When daddy says stay, he means stay, little one.” Ahmu stares down at Torrig with disdain in his glowing green eyes. Tremors of fear rip through his body. The last time he attempted escape, Ahmu decided to invent a whole new type of 'game' to play. Torture and humiliation are much more fun to Torrig when they weren't happening to him. Begging for mercy might save him some suffering. Ahmu so enjoys a little begging.

“I was just...” A greasy paw is crammed into Torrig's open mouth. Claws dig into his palate and he is lifted into a standing position. Blood and spittle stick to the back of his throat.

“Daddy doesn't care to hear your excuses. Someone is here for you. Rise and shine little one.” Ahmu lobs the simpering slave over his shoulder with intense force. Torrig's body skips across the sand and skids to a stop at the feet of his visitor. The boots parallel to his eyes are familiar. In fact he's spent the better part of the last four hundred years licking them. His old master has come back to claim him after all.

“Kagan! Kagan! You came for me.” The old one looks down in disgust at his disgraced subordinate. It was Kagan's original intention to leave Torrig under the yoke of the horde for the rest of his life, but circumstance have changed things.