opened into the shack that fronted the mine Jake had passed a jumble of old crates and cardboard boxes, and labels on the latter had declared their contents as wiper blades, fuses, various grades of motor oil, spark plugs, and spare parts and vehicle accessories in general. Naturally, he would have expected as much that close to the entrance.
But all these signs of recent disturbance — or of occupation? — all this way back here? Why would anyone want to come back here, except perhaps on exploratory forays; maybe someone who was curious about old mine shafts? But recently? And how many someones? It was beginning to look like this might be the place. In which case he and Liz should never have split up and gone their own ways. Oh, he knew why she'd done it, all right, but now…
… Now what was that? Jake froze.
The side shafts weren't recent diggings; they were probably old exploratory digs from the days when prospectors sought an ultimately elusive 'mother lode.' Certainly quartz was present in the walls where the subsidiary tunnels had been hewn or blasted from the rock. It was here, too, that the scuff marks on the floor
— in places actual footprints — were most in evidence, and it was from the first of these lesser branching diggings that the sound had issued. A sound like a sigh or a yawn, like someone waking up.
Jake knew that by now it would be night in the valley in the Gibson Desert, dark in the outside world. But not nearly as dark as it was in here. And Liz was back there somewhere, alone with the old man. Or maybe not alone. And hadn't his 'Orstrylian' accent been a little too thick, and hadn't there been something
— maybe just a trace — of the Gypsy about him?
Jesus! Jake was now aware of fumbling movements from the side tunnels — from more than one of them — and was
immediately galvanized to action. But at a time and in a place such as this there was only one action he could take: flight!
Behind him, the main tunnel curved, however slightly, back towards the entrance. Setting off at a loping run, Jake played his torch beam on the ceiling in order to avoid the jagged ends of dangling timbers in a number of places where pressured beams had popped. And as he went he felt for his pager, making ready to send out his distress call. Not that he felt panicked or in immediate danger himself, but Liz might well be. If she wasn't already aware of the danger, the beeper would give her advance warning. He wouldn't use it just yet, though, because to do so would be to alert whoever she was with that he was on his way, perhaps precipitating some undesired activity.
In a matter of twenty seconds or so, when he was in sight of the bead-curtained rear entrance to the shack, Jake skidded to a halt. A figure, momentarily silhouetted by the light from the shack, had appeared on the other side of the curtain; Jake recognized it as that of the old proprietor. Switching off his torch, he flattened himself to the wall behind a support beam, took out his 9mm Browning and soundlessly armed it. And none too soon.
Grumbling to himself in his fashion, the old man came on through the curtains and made straight for Jake; there was no other way he could go. But as he blotted out some of the light from the shack, so Jake noticed that his movements weren't any longer those of an old man! He came on at a sprightly, almost youthful lope, and his previously dim eyes were no longer hidden in wrinkled folds. Instead they were a glowing, feral yellow, and in their cores burned red as fire!
Jake needed no further warning or convincing. He now knew for a certainty what this place was, if not exactly what he was up against. Going into a professional shooting stance, he took careful aim and squeezed the trigger.
But the other had seen or sensed Jake in the moment that he fired; seeming to flow to one side, he moved closer to the wall. Jake knew he'd missed and got off a second shot; the bullet whined where it ricochetted from the shaft's wall, hurling sparks and splinters of rock at the 'old' man's face and neck.
He jerked at the impact of the stony fragments, then stood up straighter and stepped out into full view. And putting up a hand to his neck under the ear, he glanced at it almost curiously and said, 'Blood?' That was all, 'blood? But his voice was no longer old, and his furnace eyes had turned uniformly crimson.
Knowing he couldn't afford to miss a third time, Jake moved forward. Behind him there was real activity now: voices calling out wailing questions, and the sounds of stumbling feet. And:
'Lead, is it?' said that low, growling, dangerous voice as the distance narrowed between them. 'Oh, ha! Ha! Ha! Then come on, son, fire away. For as you'll discover, I've something of an appetite for lead.'
'How about silver?' Jake said, squeezing the trigger again. His words were pure bravado for he was by no means sure of himself, but it was a nice line.
And perhaps in that last second the vampire sensed that his opponent had the advantage. Whichever, he once more caused himself to relocate, used that weird flowing motion to move to one side. But not quickly and not far enough. The silver bullet hit him in the right shoulder, spun him around and slammed his back against the wall. With a gurgling cry of (Ah! Ah!' he clawed at his shoulder and fell to his right knee, and Jake leaped around him to carry on headlong through the bead curtains, taking them with him in a jangling tangle.
Maybe he should have stayed to finish the job. Certainly he would have if he had been that someone else — or half of someone else — but despite the danger Jake was still only Jake Cutter; he hadn't yet reached that point of uttermost desperation.
Free of the curtains he crashed through the makeshift bar and sent the plank flying from its barrel supports, and without pause he rushed out into the night, wheeling left to go sprinting towards the second shack. That was where the alleged 'creechur' was, and Jake could scarcely doubt but that was where he would find Liz, too… where the lying, scheming, undead proprietor of this terrible place had left her. As he went, so he reached into his pocket to activate his pager…
The thing's cold hands on Liz's hands… the beeper continuing to issue its endlessly repeating mayday (or its cry of warning, she couldn't say which, but in any case the latter was far too late now)… and this thing from her worst nightmares, smiling at her through the stout iron bars. But bars that might as well be of paper, because the door in the cage stood ajar.
The creature freed her right hand, pushed at the door. Liz stood frozen; she let him get that far — but in the next moment was shaken from her paralysis on hearing Jake's shout of, 'Liz! Liz! Where in hell are you?' He was dead right: that was exactly where she was! But she guessed he already knew that.
All was total darkness now, all bar the glow of her monstrous adversary's eyes. Off-balance as the door swung squealingly open on her, carrying her with it, still Liz managed to snatch the Baby Browning from her pocket. Ramming it between the bars, she gritted her teeth and fired.
'Gah!?' said that shuddersome voice, sounding mildly surprised. And as the thing released his hold on her, she slammed the door shut again on its rusty hinges, and on him, turned and groped fumblingly towards the inner door to the shack. She came across it, found the doorknob and yanked it open. But the creature was behind her; she could feel its hot, fetid breath on her neck, its oppressive strength gathering in the darkness. Then:
'Liz?' came Jake's voice again. He'd heard her shot, came to a halt beyond the locked screen door. She heard him cursing, rattling the lock, until: 'Stand back!' he called out.
She should stand back? When right behind her something was rumbling, 'Urgh — ah! — argh!' even now? And:
'Christ!' Liz said, quickly turning and firing again, and then a third time. Until the grotesque black shadow of the creature was lifted from its feet and hurled bodily away, flailing its arms and spitting blood, back into the shack's more natural shadows — where it collided with yet more shadows that Liz hadn't been aware of until now/
Her shot had come simultaneously with Jake's as he blew the lock off the outer door. And a moment later she was out of the place, stumbling into his arms.
He steadied her, breathlessly told her, 'This place. This is it! It's what we were looking for.'
'Do you think I don't rucking know that?' she gasped.
And then they were running, both of them, heading for the 'Rover, for safety, and for sanity. But as yet safety, and especially sanity, seemed a long way off. Behind them, the smaller shack was spewing stumbling, dazed-seeming, zombie-like figures into the night. A handful of them, four or five at least. While ahead of them…
'God almighty/' Jake breathed with difficulty.
The moon was up, a waxing moon that gave good light. Likewise the stars, very bright in a sky that was now
