King Carrion by Rich Hawkins

with eager hands.
     
    *
     
    The clouds had retreated from parts of the sky when Mason stumbled outside, and he felt something like elation at the last light of the winter sun. 
         Mason fled from the terrible house and across the wasteland, fear steaming from his skin; desperate to reach the streets of people and traffic and get away from the horror that had nearly claimed him. Calvin had been on his heels all the way from the room and down the stairs to the hallway and the threshold of the doorway. Mason had barely escaped; a few times Calvin’s fingers had swiped close to the back of his head. And if the chase had lasted any longer he would have been caught, like terrified prey, to join the others in that dark room.
         Once Mason had staggered clear of the doorway and away from the house, he had stopped with his rucksack over one shoulder and turned back to see Calvin hunched over in the doorway, staring out at him and hissing at the pale sunlight.
         Mason emerged onto the streets, heading back to Ellie’s house as Charlie’s last words announced themselves in his mind.
         “I’ll see you soon, lad.”
     
     
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    During his flight from the dead house he noticed several missing person flyers taped to walls and stapled to wooden posts and fences. He stopped only to glance at them, because he didn’t want to look at their faces any longer than he had to.
     
    *
     
    It was near dark when he returned to Ellie’s house. He was relieved to get inside while there was still some light in the sky. He locked the front door behind him and stood in the hallway with his hands worrying at each other. Coldness crawled over his skin. His heart pumped erratically and the contents of his stomach curdled.
         Ellie’s voice startled him. “Why have you locked the door?”
         She was waiting for him at the kitchen table, cradling a mug of coffee. He sat down across from her, took out a Rizla and opened his pouch of rolling tobacco to make a cigarette. His hands were trembling. Ellie watched him.
         “You don’t know who’s out there.” He felt like laughing, but he knew it would only come out half-mad and hysterical, and there was nothing to laugh at, anyway.
         “What’s going on, Mason?”
         He looked at her then had to look away. “I thought you don’t care what happens to me?”
         She took a mouthful of coffee then sighed deeply. “Don’t start that, okay?”
         Mason snorted. “You were the one who said it.”
         “Just talk to me. Where did you go? What’s happened?”
         He gave up trying to roll the cigarette and dropped it on the table. He looked down at his lap. “I’m in trouble, I think.”
         “What sort of trouble?”
         “Let me make a cup of tea and I’ll tell you.”
     
    *
     
    “Vampires?” she said, half-smiling.
         “Yes.”
         “Vampires?”
         He nodded, swallowed, exhaled. “Yes.”
         She scoffed. “Are you serious?”
         “I told you what happened last night and today.”
         “You also told me you weren’t on drugs.”
         Mason sucked on the cigarette he’d finally managed to roll. Ellie had opened the kitchen window to let out the smoke.  
         “Of course I’m serious. I think the red-eyed thing attacked and turned them all.”
         “And you expect me to believe you?”
         He shook his head, felt his face crumple and redden. “They were dead. It was like a nest, all of them in the room. I checked Calvin’s pulse, but there was nothing.  His throat had been torn out last night, but when I found him today it was already healing.”
         “How was it healing if he was dead?”
         “I don’t know. I don’t understand any of it. Maybe they heal quicker than people.”
         “This is madness,” Ellie said. “ They ? The vampires? Jesus Christ, Mason, do you