Vampire Shift - By Tim O'Rourke Page 0,12

ran as fast as I could towards him. He turned his bike around in the road and peddled as fast as he could away from me.

Knowing that I could never catch him, I slowed, doubled up gasping for breath. Once I had stopped, so did the cyclist ahead of me. Turning his bike again in the road, he sat and watched me.

Drawing in lungfuls of oxygen, I shouted as loud as I could, “Why did you leave me that crucifix?”

The cyclist, whoever he was, didn’t respond, he just sat motionless on his bike.

“I know it was you!” I yelled at him. Turning, I started to run again. Okay, I thought. If he wanted to play games, I could play along. Ahead there was a bend in the road, and running as fast as I could, I raced towards it. I rounded the bend and saw that it opened out into a wide open area of wild grass and sand, which led down through the cliffs and towards the cove. Off to the right was an outcrop of rocks. Diving behind them, I lay flat against the ground. From my hiding place, I could hear the sea crashing against the shore in the distance, and the sound of seagulls as they squawked overhead.

Peering around the rocks, I watched as the cyclist rode his bike onto the open area. He stopped, and looked from left to right, his hood never moving, not offering the smallest glimpse of who was beneath it. After a few seconds, he rode forward and headed towards the rocks. As he drew nearer, I could see that his hands were covered with gloves, and apart from the dark black hoodie, he wore blue jeans and trainers. There was a chill in the air, but I found it odd that he was so snugly wrapped up and wearing gloves. It was as if he didn’t want to show any of his skin.

Squatting on all fours, I waited for him to draw level with the rocks. When he was almost on top of me, I sprang from my hiding place and made a desperate grab for his handlebars. I managed to get hold of one before he twisted them away and out of reach. Holding on as best I could, the bike wobbled and the cyclist steadied himself by slamming both of his feet down into the sand.

“Who are you?” I hollered at him, his head lowered so I couldn’t see beneath his hood. “Tell me who you are!” I demanded.

Without so much as a murmur, he rolled the bike backwards, dragging me along with him. Losing my footing, I fell forward, letting go of the handlebar. As I went down, I caught my wrist on one of the bike pedals, tearing the skin from my wrist. Crying out in pain, I rolled into the sand and cradled my bleeding arm. Seeing that he had cast me loose, he pedalled as fast and as hard as he could away from me and down the narrow lane towards the cove.

“Come back!” I yelled after him, but he was soon gone, disappearing amongst the rocks and cliffs. Rolling onto my back, I gripped my bleeding wrist in an attempt to stop the flow of blood. It oozed through my fingers, in red sticky rivulets and for just the briefest of moments, I felt dizzy and the world seemed to turn black.

“Are you okay?” I heard someone say.

Opening my eyes, I looked up to see Luke standing over me, a concerned look etched across his face. “What happened?”

“I fell over,” I said, trying to get to my feet.

“Come here,” Luke said, offering me his hand to help me up. It was then that he saw the blood flowing through my fingers and he almost seemed to flinch in horror.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, getting myself to my feet. Again I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed unable to take his eyes off the blood that now ran up my wrist towards my forearm and dribbled from the tips of my fingers. The colour had drained from his face and he looked suddenly unwell.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, and he took a step backwards.

Continuing to look at my bleeding wrist, Luke said, “I’m not very good around blood – it kind of makes me queasy.”

“You’re meant to be a cop,” I winced in pain.

“I know, but I just don’t like the sight of blood, that’s all,” he said, and again I noticed that