Sanctuary - Chapter 3 - Nya

Chapter 3


Nya

I was sleeping when the pestilence came.  That’s not to say I’m lazy, not in the least, but sometimes I am overcome and I must go to ground for a while and rest.  I wasn’t aware anything had changed in the world.  No voices invaded my slumber, so deep in the ground was I.   Then Asher brought Sari home with him, and they told me what had happened.  I couldn’t believe it at first, until I had seen them with my own eyes.
   They walk and they moan, they stink to high heaven and they eat, anything living they devour with gusto.  I must admit when I first saw the dead ones I was scared.  Even though there is little they could do to hurt me.



Asher is transformed.  He has crowned himself the unofficial saviour of the human race, and he revels in it.  He stands proud at our window, his long dark hair like silk down his back, surveying all he commands.  It’s as if his deep blue eyes look right through me now.  I was his life, his obsession for so long; but now they have taken my place.  It makes me feel empty, somehow, abandoned and alone.  Asher is a fool not to sense this from me; I would be quite mad now if it wasn’t for Sari.



She is very beautiful, for a human that is.  Her long fair hair is braided back from her forehead and woven with ribbons and beads.  Her green eyes are serious and show maturity beyond her years.  There is a ruthless side that I particularly love about her; she kills the dead ones without hesitation or pity.  She is the new breed of human that we are trying to cultivate here at Sanctuary.  Soon they will not need to hide here, and can begin to repopulate the cities once more.  This is Asher’s plan; but the thought of Sari leaving gives me such pain.  Perhaps she can be convinced to stay on here.



There is a certain responsibility that comes with Sainthood – Asher and I can no longer go to ground when we feel the urge, can no longer hunt and devour whole victims like we used to; Sainthood is a hard thing to endure.  We are by design, killers, and humans are our food and have been since the first Vampire was made all those many thousands of year ago.  Now we must behave ourselves, and frankly it is tedious and boring after three years.  Call me callas if you must, but I have not forgotten what I am, even if Asher has.  



The Dead Ones interest me greatly.  I want to know how they work, how the disease invades then devours their humanity.  I have a lab, deep below London where I take individuals and experiment on them.  We can only hope to overcome this, if we understand it.  Those in the first stages of the disease are the ones I cherish the most.  We sometimes catch these infected before they are integrated into the group, and then I can trap them and watch the progression.  I have learned a great deal from this, which I have shared with Asher and the others.



Here are the symptoms as observed over many months, and many victims.



Hour 1-4:



The victim will experience fever and shaking.  They will be thirsty and be sensitive to light.



Hour 4-12:



The victim will be aggressive and the skin around the infection site will become inflamed and putrid.  Slowly the body will begin to shut down.



Hour 12-20:



The victim will slip into a coma accompanied by shallow breathing.  The limbs and extremities will begin to die and change colour.  The telltale smell that all the Dead Ones exhibit will start.



Hour 21:



The Victim will die.



Hour 22-24:



The disease begins to reanimate the flesh and within two hours of expiring the victim will become a true Dead One.



It appears that the disease is passed by exposure to bodily fluids, most commonly through bites and scratches.  Even more strangely is the fact that once bitten, even in the early stage of the disease, the Dead Ones will ignore the victim and refuse to consume his flesh.  



They have a hive attitude these Dead Ones, they have no leader and yet they are highly disciplined.  They exist just to devour living flesh and nothing more.  I have been unable to examine a brain from one of them – they are just too decomposed and give no viable data.  They are almost blind and yet can spot a living target across a mile of grassland.  Their deep, gutteral moaning is an alarm system, alerting others of their kind to the possible meal.  When a victim is spotted, they let out a loud moan, which calls all other Dead Ones in the vicinity to them.



They are highly efficient killers.  



Knowing our enemy is the only way to defeat them.



The Battles goes on.