Vampire Shift - By Tim O'Rourke Page 0,27

his face beneath that hoodie. But however much I tried, it was dark beneath the trees, and the overcast sky only made it more difficult to see him. I was too far away to hear what they were saying to one another. From my hiding place, I watched them talk. Several times the hooded man pointed into the open grave.

After only a few minutes of spying on them, they shook hands, and Father Taylor walked away. And as he did, I noticed that he was limping. He hadn’t done so the night before – I was sure of it – I would have seen it.

Making myself as small as possible, the priest walked right past me on the other side of the gravestone that I was crouching behind. I watched him go back towards the church. Turning back to spy on the hooded male, I watched him kneel down and carryout some kind of an inspection of the earth around the open grave. Taking a small bag from his jacket pocket, he scooped up some of the earth and placed it inside the bag.

As I watched, part of me wanted to sneak up on him, pull back his hood and find out his identity. But what if he saw me? I’d already had a confrontation with him and come off worse for it. So I decided to wait for him to finish whatever it was that he was doing, then follow him. After all, he knew where he could find me and it would be nice to be on equal terms. I didn’t have to wait long before he turned away from the open grave and started back across the graveyard.

Peering over the top of the grave, I watched him go to the front of the church, where he disappeared from view. Scrambling to my feet, I darted amongst the gravestones, desperate to catch up with him. As I neared the front of the church, I saw the male speed out from the other side on his bike and cycle down the path to the gate. On reaching it, he lent forward, pulled it open and maneuvered through it and was gone. Then a thought hit me and I froze. To get back down the road, he would have to cycle past my car. He would know that it was mine – how many other beat-up old red Mini’s were there in the town?

Keeping as low as possible, I made my way towards the wall. Peeking over it, I could just make out my car parked further down the road next to the hedgerows. I couldn’t see the cyclist. Passing through the gate, I made my way towards my car. Once I was sure that he wasn’t nearby, I ran towards it, wanting to catch up, so I could follow him from afar and see where it was he was headed.

Climbing into my car, I started the engine, and turned the car on to the road. Hitting the accelerator, I drove back towards the town, scanning the road ahead for the cyclist. After a mile or so, I’d hoped that I would have seen him ahead of me, but it was like he had vanished. Then glancing in my rear view mirror, I hit my brakes. He was tailing me on his bike. Not believing what I was seeing, I pulled over and stopped, but kept the engine running – just in case. I stared at him in the rearview mirror and waited for him to draw level with me, but he didn’t. Once he was within a hundred yards or so of my car, he stopped in the road.

Jumping from my car in frustration, I clenched my fists and shouted up the road at him, “What do you want from me?”

Again he said nothing, but just sat on his bike, staring at me from the shadows of his hood.

“Right, you chicken-shit,” I said under my breath. “I’ve had enough of your fun and games.” Then climbing back into my car, I spun it around in the road and raced towards him. On seeing me coming, he took something white from his coat pocket, lent over on his bike and attached whatever it was onto a branch protruding from the hedgerow. Then swooping left on his bike, he cycled away and sped down a narrow lane set between two fields.

Pulling alongside the lane, I could see that it was far too narrow for me to drive my car down. Thumping