Five Rules

Three: Stranger

Robyn tried not to breathe. Her eyes drank in details: grubby, tattered trousers. Worn shoes, holed soles describing the miles they'd walked under shuffling, careless feet. The jerky, unfocused movements. Coordination was a distant memory. All the signs pointed one way.

She let her breath out slowly, as quiet as she could. Even one vamp could be a problem. Especially in a confined space. She looked back up the gate. Her entrance had made a new tangle of the coiled wire. If she tried to climb back over the chances of getting snared were high. Stuck dangling with nothing but a few thin bars separating her from scratching nails and gnashing teeth would be a great way to end her day infected and looking for a way to die.

Rule Two: You can't fight

Robyn reached into her pocket, drawing her penknife out with slow, careful movements. Keeping her eyes fixed on the legs she fumbled out the small blade. She might not be able to fight but that didn't mean she had to give up. She gripped the penknife, blade held out in front of her and used her free hand to find and grip a bar of the gate. Robyn rose, using the sturdy metal as a crutch to keep her rise measured and balanced.

She reached her feet, freed her hand and braced herself.

"Come on then," her voice broke slightly, robbing her challenge of the menace she'd attempted. Overall it felt more of an embarrassment than a threat.

"Come on!" She shouted the words, flexing her fingers around her puny knife and shifted her weight. She was ready. Ready to face the rush of violence. The biting, gouging, tearing of her enemy's desperate hunger.

The feet scrabbled on the floor, pushing back. In her imagination Robyn could see the haggered, scrawny body they belonged to trying to rise as it's one driving need spurred it into action. They shuffled, the knees above them bending, the thighs arching before disappearing from sight.

"Come on!" Robyn screamed. "I'll fuckin' kill you!"

Adrenaline flooded her system, making her breath come fast and her hands start to shake. She should charge. Before the vamp could rise properly. Rush it before it rushed her. They didn't see well in the daylight. Or it hurt them. Nobody knew for sure but she'd learned they weren't as dangerous during the day. Not as dangerous but still dangerous.

The feet disappeared from sight. Her window was closing, fast. She could take advantage of it's stupidity. Of it's weakness. Push it back down, keep the initiative. Stab at it. Her knife was small but it would still do damage with the weight of terror behind it. She should go now. She readied herself to charge. She should-

"I'm unarmed."

Robyn faltered, one foot already off the ground. She stayed in place, thoughts utterly derailed.

"What?"

"Can you, can you keep it down?" The voice was male. Older sounding and full of worry. "I know it's daytime but that doesn't stop some of them."

Robyn teetered, almost lost her balance and dropped her airborne foot heavily.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Or even try to," the voice added. "I'd real like it if you did the same for me."

Robyn was lost. Completely. Who the hell was out here at this time of day? Her brain failed to offer a reasonable answer so she took her question to the source.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm, I'm... " there was a pause. "My name is Alex. Well, Alexander, actually."

"Your name's Alexander Actually?" Robyn took a step forward, still brandishing her knife.

"No, I mean yes. I mean, it's Alexander. But everyone just calls me Alex." He coughed as he finished speaking. It sounded wet.

Robyn stepped back again. "You bit?"

"No."

"Scratched?"

"No. At least not by any of them."

Robyn paused. What was that supposed to mean?

Again, no sensible answer presented itself without outside help.

"What do you mean?"

For a long moment no answer came from the corner. Robyn contemplated the fence again. Maybe she could use the satchel to flatten down the tangled wire. If this Alex character was laying a trap she'd be better off back on the street. At least from there she could run. Home was close enough. The lookouts would see her. And him if he chose to give chase. She looked at the gate.

"Can I ask your name?"

Robyn's head whipped round. "Why?"

Another pause. Then, "I once read people in stressful situations are more likely to be violent towards a stranger."

That was unexpected. Although, thinking back, she had screamed she'd kill him. When she thought he was a vamp. There was an edge to the voice too. She could hear it now the thunder of rushing blood in her ears had died away. His words were hesitant. Guarded. But frail too. He was trying to hide it but there was something beneath them.

"It's," she paused, took a breath. This could be a really bad idea. "It's Robyn."

He made a sighing noise, like he was relieved she hadn't refused.

"Hello, Robyn. It's nice to meet you."

"Is it?"

That made him laugh and the laugh became another series of hacking coughs.

"You sure you ain't bit?" she questioned again.

The coughing subsided, ending in a sort of ahh noise.

"I'm sure," he said and something about his tone felt convincing. "Do you, do you live near here?"

Robyn glanced at the towers on reflex.

"Close by." She wasn't ready to let her guard down. Not yet.

He chuckled, soft and short. "You're smart for someone so young."

"Stupid people don't live long," she replied dryly.

Another laugh, more coughing.

"I know we don't know each other much yet," he started. Robyn felt the weariness rise. No matter what he said, she wasn't going to walk around that corner into a trap. "But I'm hoping you're kind as well as smart."

"Why?" Suspicion dripped from the single syllable.

"Because I need it."

She heard shuffling. He was coming out. Brave, possibly stupid. Had he guessed she wasn't ready to gamble her life on a stranger's words? And more to the point, why was he? She braced herself, ready to fight or flee if he made a charge.

"I'm coming out," he said, voice quivering slightly. "Don't shoot."

Shoot? She wanted to laugh. Did he think they were in an old Western story?

"Slowly," she warned.

A pair of hands appeared at the edge of the building, palms facing her, fingers splayed to show they held no weapons. A face followed after a few seconds. It was old or maybe it wasn't. Most of the dry, sunbaked skin was covered by beard. The hair was knotted, unkempt and dark brown. Above thick eyebrows a mess of more dark hair sprang out in all directions.

She lifted her penknife, the blade reflecting red glints from the sky. Alex's eyes fixed on it. She didn't know what he'd been expecting and the beard made it hard to read his expression. Was he... relieved?

She set her face in a no-nonsense look, trying to communicate any attempt at trouble would go badly for him. His eyes met hers, read the message in her features. He gave a slight nod and edged out further.

Robyn watched him warily.

"Keep it slow."

He nodded again, opening his mouth to speak and coughing. He bent double, one hand going to his abdomen while the other sought purchase from the wall. Robyn jerked as part of her started forward on instinct while the rest held her back, driven by the lessons she'd learned. He retched, made a distinctly unpleasant noise in his throat and spat onto the ground. The globule was deep red.

She wanted to tell him he shouldn't do that. If a vamp smelled the blood they'd be swimming in teeth before they could climb the fence. His frailty, the way he held his stomach overwhelmed the thought.

"You're bit!" she accused, waving the knife at him. Now she concentrated she could see the dark, damp patch where blood soaked through his dirty, torn shirt.

"Not bit," he rapsed, taking a step forward.

Robyn backed away, hitting the gate and making it rattle. She spun on the noise, then back as she heard something hit the ground. Alex was on his knees, still several feet short of her. He lifted a hand, fresh red glistening on his palm.

"Not bit," he said again, eyes turning glassy. "Help me."

His eyes rolled back and he collapsed forward, face down in the dirt.