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5. Old Wounds

They had taken Cloud away. Zack didn't know where, or when. He had woken from another of Hojo's fruitless attempts to make him transform to find the tube beside his empty. Beating his fists against the glass didn't help. Neither did yelling into the headgear they still insisted on making him wear.

He withdrew to think. He mustn't panic. They had moved Cloud before. They had never cleaned out his tank, though. His charts were missing too. Zack's SOLDIER-sharp sight told him every scrap of evidence that his friend had ever been here was gone. What that meant was anyone's guess, but one thing was certain: if Hojo was behind his disappearance that meant nothing good for Cloud.

Zack's jaw hurt. He realised he was clenching it hard enough to break his teeth.

The door slid open.

Speakofthedevilandhe'llappear.Zack folded his arms. It wasn't as if he had any power in this situation, but it was better than letting Hojo see how frustrated he was. Hojo was a vindictive sadist. Show him weakness and he exploited it totally. Zack kept his tone even. "Where is he?"

Hojo's smile was like broken glass. "Who?"

"Cloud."

"You mean Specimen C?" His eyes glittered. "He was removed from this facility in the interests of research. Our investigations here have gone as far as they can."

"Bullshit." So much for keeping his cool. "If that was the case, you wouldn't still be here."

"I have stayed because you are here, Specimen Z."

Zack shook his head. "You're more interested in Cloud than in me."

"You are a werewolf. I don't think you fully appreciate how rare that is. Any scientist worth his salt would want to study you further."

And yet he never looked at Zack the way he looked at Cloud: hungrily, almost desperately. Something about Cloud got under Hojo's skin, even if he was 'just' a vampire, like all the other vampires out there, while Zack was a 'rare beast'. Not one who had ever transformed on command, of course, but still rarer than your common or garden variety vamp.

"You're lying."

Hojo's smile widened. Creepy bastard. "I simply wish to streamline our testing programme. Specimen C was a needless distraction whose mere presence encouraged you towards insubordination and noncompliance, and vice-versa."

Meaning they took strength from each other and to break them down into compliant little test subjects Hojo had separated them like naughty children. A jolt of pain went up Zack's jaw from a molar. He narrowed his eyes at Hojo.

"What's your real game, Hojo?"

"Life is not a game," Hojo said dismissively, going over to one of the terminals that registered Zack's life signs. He paused, long fingers extended towards the keys. "But if it was, I would doubtless be making sure I was the winner."

"Where. Is. Cloud?"

"Gone, and that's all I intend to say on the matter." Hojo scanned the read-outs and smiled. "Testy, aren't we? Adrenaline levels elevated, increased brain activity, a burgeoning hormonal imbalance – I do believe you're angry with me, Specimen Z."

Zack knew what he was up to. It wasn't the first time Hojo had tried to make him angry enough to transform. He seemed to think that, based on the limited and abruptly cut off video feed from the Nibelheim reactor, Zack's shifting depended on his emotional state. If that were the case, however, how had Zack endured losing Angeal, or Genesis's desertion, or the terrible things he had seen in the Wutai War?

For a smart guy, Hojo's really dumb.

Hojo had tried to use Cloud to force his hand before, too. As soon as he realised the depth of their friendship, and Zack's protective instincts, he tried to exploit them. Hours of torture and serial experiments had led him to nothing but a very pissed, but still very human Zack and a vampire who barely reacted anymore. Cloud's vampiric healing sealed up any wounds given the right amount of time, and the amount of mako Hojo's team doused them with took care of the rest. Evidently mako still affected vampires the way it did humans.

Zack centred himself. He remembered Angeal once trying to teach him meditation, with limited success. Zack was always such a bundle of energy, it was difficult to make him sit still. Now, after months of this hellhole, he had learned how to exist for long periods of time just listening to his own breathing.

Hojo made an irritated noise as the readings changed. "Hmm, apparently you don't care about Specimen C as much as hypothesised."

Gotohell, Zack thought, but said nothing. His brain whirred, worrying about Cloud, about how long they had been here, about Aerith and Midgar, about what Shinra was planning, about whether Sephiroth had survived the reactor – until he forced everything into a box and mentally sat on the lid. He could still hear the thoughts, but they were muffled and allowed him to concentrate on the immediate moment with more clarity.

The liquid started to drain from his tube. He opened his eyes again. Hojo's minions stood by with manacles and what looked like a collar on a rod, of the kind used to catch stray dogs. Zack would have been insulted, had he cared enough. One thing thrummed through him, his most immediate concern: Cloud.

Underneath the box of unwelcome worries, he sensed movement. Something deep in his psyche stirred. A flash of panic went through him; not now! The presence growled softly, but retreated. Relief washed over him.

Hojo had never been able to wake the wolf in Zack. Probably because he had made several inaccurate assumptions and Zack hadn't put him right.

"Now, Z." Hojo drew out the letter like a drunken bumble-bee. "Don't be difficult." He said it in such a way that everyone knew he was hoping just the opposite.

Zack hunkered down, taking up a lotus position like he couldn't care less that they were coming for him.

He raced through the trees, branches smacking his arms and chest while twigs scratched his face. Tears sequinned the air behind him, as if someone had sprinkled glitter in his wake. The ground was rough and difficult to navigate in daylight, let alone at night. He ducked and stumbled, mind and stomach both churning.

Seconds later he burst out of the underbrush and came to an abrupt halt. His path had brought him to the canyon. His lungs hurt and his chest heaved. He hadn't tried to be silent. He hadn't been thinking coherently at all. He wasn't even sure how he had picked up the trail. Instinct, maybe, or pure dumb luck.

The group at the edge turned to face him. Every one of them had red eyes that glowed in the darkness.

A strangled noise escaped his throat.

The group laughed; or rather, one man laughed and the rest followed his lead. The sound they made was jerky and unnatural, like they had never laughed before and were trying it out for the first time. When the first man stopped, so did they.

"So there was a survivor," the man said, sounding amused.

"Y-you …" He swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper and his nose stung. This was no time for tears! He sucked in a breath for strength, but it didn't help. Adrenaline alone was keeping him on his feet right now. "You k-killed…" Damn it, his teeth were chattering too much to get the words out.

The man shrugged. "I kill a lot of people. You'll have to be more specific." He cocked his head to one side, smiling with fangs. "You look, what, fifteen? Sixteen? I'll bet you're sweet sixteen. Are you here to avenge a girlfriend? Some saccharine love of your young life whose innocent virgin blood I spilled?" More unnatural laughter, abruptly halted by a raised hand.

"Myfamily," hegritted. "Youk-killedmyfamily."

He tried to force away the images – the knock at the door, his mother opening it to reveal his father, swaying and with blood on his shirt. She had ordered him to come inside, of course. She'd thought he was hurt. He had been out on another expedition against the rogue vampire that had been haunting their town. She had actually been reaching for the med-kit they kept under the sink when her husband grabbed her, spun her around and ripped her throat out.

"My mom and dad. You turned my father and he …"

"And he killed your mother?" The man – no, the vampire – smiled viciously. "How deliciously amusing. Did he spare you, or did you run away?"

The images wouldn't leave. He could still see his father fastened on his mother's neck, and hear the dull thump of her body hitting the floor when he reasserted his will enough to let go. The pleading in his father's red eyes had been terrible, as his real self struggled against the monster he had become. That final request would ring in his ears until his dying day.

Or night.

Maybe tonight.

He set his feet. "I killed him."

"You?" the vampire guffawed. The others set up a low chuckling.

With growing horror, he recognised their faces: Saul, the baker; old Farley from three streets away; his school janitor; the headmistress. They had each been turned and now followed this vampire like mindless drones. It was enough to make him want to scream.

"You actually expect me to believe you killed your own father?" the vampire asked. Abruptly his tone changed, becoming harsh and grating, like a knife skidding across a plate. "I think you're lying. I think you ran away. Little coward. I gave my servants orders to kill or turn everyone they saw. Servants always obey their master."

He could still feel the smooth heft of his father's axe handle in his hands. He should have brought it with him, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to pull it out of the groove it had made in the floorboards when he swung it. Suddenly, he felt so alone it was all he could do not to fall to his knees. Yet he couldn't falter; not now. This vampire had done too much. He had to stop this before it went any further. He had to fix this.

The vampire's smile was humourless. He was handsome, or would have been while he was still human, with dark hair, long legs and a sharp suit set off by the katana at his waist. He hadn't drawn the weapon, nor did he seem inclined to anytime soon. "The boy wants to fight! He actually wants to go toe-to-toe with me!"

"Fight, fight, fight," warbled the others.

"Or rather," the vampire said, "he wants to die."

It happened so fast, he was spinning into a tree before he even realised the creature had moved. The impact sent pain flaring across his back and chest. He fell to the ground, coughing and spitting. First strike and already something grated painfully in his chest. He struggled to get back up. You couldn't stay down in a fight. That was certain death.

"No challenge at all," the vampire sighed. "You're not worth the effort. You there. Finish him."

One of the newly turned vamps scurried over. His vision swam with black spots, but he made out the familiar features and his heart sank a little more. Soon it would reach the Planet's core. "Not you too, Susie."

His neighbour hissed at him like a feral cat. Behind her, the lead vampire waved a hand and half turned away, as if watching him die was so tiresome it couldn't be bothered. "Kill. There's a good girl."

Susie's smile was stuffed with fangs. Her eyes glowed brighter than fireflies. She launched herself, hands still human, but curled as if she would have preferred claws to sink into him too. He was halfway into a kneeling position when she hit him.

The lead vampire turned back at her howl. "What the –?"

"I'm sorry." He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't bear to see the puzzled agony on Susie's face. He had cursed always being told to go play with his stupid, soppy neighbour. They had hurled terrible names and inventive but gruesome insults at each other for as long as either of them could remember. Susie was pretty smart for her age. She never would have looked this way: like a foolish puppy who had been kicked and didn't know the reason. "I'm so, so sorry."

The weight of her falling body wrenched the wooden sword out of his trembling hands. It stuck up out of her chest like a mainsail missing its flag.

Fangs filled his field of vision. He smelled old meat and felt hot breath on his face. Instinctively he brought his arm up to shield himself. The vampire casually reached out and snapped his wrist. The pain was intense – so much that the night around him whited out for a second. He might have screamed. Maybe he passed out. All he knew was that he was suddenly on the ground and the vampire was leaning over him.

"You're young and stupid, but you might make a good servant."

"No!" He battled to get free, or at least protect his throat.

His own pulse sounded unbearably loud in his ears. Could the vampire hear that? Was that what was making its pupils dilate, shrinking the red iris to a sliver. The red eyes burned brighter than fireworks.

"Get off!" He struck out blindly.

By sheer luck, the back of his hand caught the vampire in the side of the face. Something warm sprayed into his hair.

"Wh…" The vampire stared at him, face turning furious. "You dare to draw myblood?"

He was hoisted into the air. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. His feet kicked empty air. His good hand scrabbled to unlock the vampire's iron grip on his neck. His other hand twitched, sending a fresh blaze of pain up his arm and into his shoulder. Spots prickled the edges of his vision and he knew with unerring certainty that he was going to die.

He saw a replay of his father, fighting to stay in control long enough to hand over the axe. His father had quaked with the effort it took to stay still. He had trusted his son to do what had to be done. He had even apologised for forcing him to do it.

He couldn't die now; not after all that. He couldn't let this vampire live after what had become of Gongaga. He had seen the bodies in the streets, some laying half in and half out of their houses. Their loved ones, too, had come back from the hunt with blood on their minds. The hunters had become the hunted, and everybody had paid the price for this creature picking their town for its games.

Something in the back of his mind twinged. It felt like an itch in the centre of his head. Was this what it felt like to die of oxygen starvation? His mouth still worked to suck in air, but it was no use.

I don't want to die,hethoughtdesperately.Primitivefearstabbedhimlikeanicicle.I don't want to die!

Thendon't,saidtheitch.

But I … I … Theworldwasstartingtofade.Thevampirelaughed.Hecouldstillhearitcacklingaway.Whatasoundtracktodieto.I can't beat a vampire on my own. Howhadheeverthoughthecould?Hehadjustrushedoutherewithoutthinking,asusual.Nowhewasgoingtodieandthethingwouldgoonkilling.

Fight.

But I –

Fight!

I can't –

Can.

The vampire released him. Or rather, the vampire backed off at the way his body suddenly erupted in a blaze of fur and teeth. The world continued to fade from his vision, but his body seemed to go on without him. He was dimly aware of moving, but it was like being a passenger, or watching a home movie of yourself as a kid, doing things you can't remember ever doing.

He heard the 'shing' of metal, like a sword leaving its scabbard. Something crunched. A taste flooded his mouth, like that time he tried to cook barbeque and ended up giving himself food poisoning from a mostly raw plate of sausages he ate because he couldn't admit his dad had been right when he said they weren't done yet. Mom had never let him cook again.

Mom … Dad …

Their faces slipped away like smoke. He reached out, trying to grab them, but he couldn't. Everything was slipping away. He tried to reassert himself, but continued to slide backwards into oblivion. Their faces were replaced by other images, each sharp and clear, but none of them his own: running across an open plain; curled in a cave to watch the snow outside; jumping feet-first into a stream to catch fish; biting a challenger who wanted to be pack leader; nuzzling a belly that was heavy with pups –

Get out of my head! Hecouldn'tmakehismouthwork.Panicfloodedhimlikeacidrushingthroughhisveins.Get out! Get out! Heneededtogobacktohisbody,buthisbodywasbusywithouthim. Get out!Hescreameditintohisownhead.

Mine now.

Like hell.

GET OUT! Hebatteredatthewhatever-it-wascontrollinghim.

His father once told him that vampires controlled the people they turned, making them servants, or even worse, little more than mindless slaves they could call on to do their bidding whenever they wanted. The sire vampire got inside the heads of its servants and made them into puppets.

He remembered what it felt like to hunt moose. He remembered limping along an old forest path, looking for a good place to die. He remembered pushing past the bodies of his brothers and sisters to reach his mother so he could feed. He remembered his first snow, his first kill, his first moonlight howl –

GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!

Foolish, saidtheitch.Youwilldie.

MY BODY! MINE! GET OUT! I'M HUMAN – HUMAN!–AND THIS IS MINE!

He slammed back into himself and promptly fell on his butt. His very bare butt. He stared around, taking in the chaos. Two vampires lay on the ground. Others were injured, running away. One ran right off the cliff and fell, screaming, into the canyon.

What was going on?

"You!" hissed voice. An arm wrapped around his throat from behind.

Abruptly he was back where he started, choking and pedalling the air in a fight not to suffocate. The itch in his head started up again, but he fought it as well. He wouldn't become a puppet for something else to use. He was human, not a monster.

The vampire's grip was unsteady. The other arm that came around to hold him still ended in a bloody stump. The hand was gone, as was the sword.

"What are you?" the vampire demanded.

He couldn't answer. He was trying too hard not to die.

"You hurt me," the vampire said in a wet, ragged voice. Fangs brushed the side of his neck. "I need blood to heal."

A swish of displaced air. Something silvery and metal flashed in the moonlight. He felt long hair brush his cheek. The mouth about to bite him fell away, as the head it was attached to toppled from its shoulders. Unlike in the legends, vampires didn't turn to dust when they died. The arm around his neck spasmed and tumbled to the ground a second later. The vampires running away fell forward, twitching for a moment before laying still.

He fell to his hands and knees, gaped and gasping like a landed fish. The vampire's sightless eyes stared back at him. His stomach rebelled.

Someone crouched next to him, tentatively rubbing his back as he emptied his guts. "Are you wounded?"

He looked up. He thought he recognised the face, but everything was muddled in his head. The two near-chokings had left him woozy, not to mention losing control to that … whatever it was. He could still feel its memories jumbled up with his own. He had never even seen snow before in his life! He swayed.

This time the arm that caught hold of him was strong in a different way. It held him close. He could hear a heartbeat. That simple vibration was more comforting than anything else he could have hoped for.

"You're … alive …" he whispered.

"As are you."

"They were all … all dead … there wasn't … nobody was … left …"

"You're hurt."

He held up his hands. Hadn't the vampire snapped one of his wrists? They were both moving fine now. His ribs and chest felt unbroken too, even though he was sure he had cracked something when he hit that tree. Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe…

The world darkened.

"M' sorry," he murmured. "Tried to … to fight … like you …"

To Be Continued ...

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