Chapter Eight.

“Henry? Henry, are you coming down to have breakfast? We’re leaving in an hour.”

“No Mum.”

“You need to eat something. You’re going to need your strength for… for today, sweetie.”

“I’m really not that hungry Mum.”

“Well don’t come crying to me if you faint later on,” Henry’s mum huffed. She turned and left Henry, where he was and had been a lot since his brother’s death, in Mark’s room.

He tutted when he noticed she didn’t close the door on her way out and got up to do so himself, when his Grandad appeared at the door. He was a tall man, standing at just over six feet tall and had long shoulder length white hair in a pony tail. Henry stopped and stepped aside to invite him in.

“She’s only got your best interests at heart, son,” he said, sitting on Mark’s bed. He patted a space next to him for Henry to sit next to him. “You’re all she’s got left now, and if knowing you’ve eaten breakfast makes her comfortable, and if it helps her get through the day, then maybe it’s just a good thing to do.” He looked up at Henry and motioned again for him to sit down.

Henry sighed, and sat down next to his Grandad. “When you put it like that, it’s not really about the breakfast is it?”

“It’s never just about the breakfast, no.”

The pair sat in silence for a bit. Grandad loosened his black tie. He was in a mourning suit, a black two piece, white shirt and black tie. Henry was in the same, except for the suit jacket for now.

“How are you holding up?” Grandad asked.

Henry rubbed his face with his head. “Like shit. Sorry, excuse my language.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I’m just so tired. I’m not really sleeping. I see him whenever I close my eyes. But not just him, but like the dead him. Just lying there all-”

“Alright son, I don’t- I can’t hear the details yet, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry Grandad.”

“Don’t be.” Grandad affectionately nudged his grandson. “It’s good that you can talk about it, I just might not be the best person to hear it. I’ve seen some fucked up shit, excuse my language…”

“I’ll allow it,” Henry said with a little chuckle which made his Grandad laugh too a bit.

“…but when it’s one of your own, your flesh and blood, I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

“It’s ok.”

“Are you talkin’ about it? With someone?”

“Not yet. I probably should. Everyone says that I should. But I just can’t face it. I just want to bury it all and forget about it, and not relive it.”

“I get that. But like I’ve always said to you growing up, a pro-”

“A problem shared is a problem halved. Yeah, I remember.”

“Good. I can’t do any more than that.”

The pair sat in silence a bit more before Henry broke it. “How are you doing, Grandad? I heard you and mum rowing earlier. Are you ok?”

Grandad let out a long sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, she er, blames me for your brother’s death. She said she didn’t want me here at first.”

“It’s not your fault Grandad.”

“Well, I know that. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling responsible. If I hadn’t have been so vocal in the stories I’d tell about being a Duster, or made it sound less exciting, then you two could have gone on to do normal, safer things with your life.”

“You can’t feel responsible for that. If anything, it’s my fault. I-”

“No, do not blame yourself. You have no fault in this. Neither of us really do, and it’s silly talking about it. This shit happens unfortunately. It’s shit and it sucks but it happens.” He put a reassuring hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Come down for some breakfast soon, please? We’ll be leaving shortly.”

“Yes, Grandad.” The old man got up and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Henry waited until he heard him go down the stairs before bursting into tears, and throwing himself onto the bed, burying his head in his brother’s pillows.

***

Henry was exhausted. Emotionally and physically. He’d only had two slices of buttered toast for breakfast, to satisfy his mother, but it wasn’t enough to run on for the day he had had.

The funeral was over, and Mark had been buried. But Henry had found himself back in the church, sat facing the portrait of his brother that had been left up. The flowers had all been taken to the grave, so it was just him and the picture.

Henry loved the picture they had chosen. It was actually his suggestion to use it.

They were on holiday in Florida when they were eight years old. The day before the photo was taken, Mum had taken them to a water park where Mark had banged his head on the side of a log flume as he slid down it. The next day, the boys had dressed up as Buzz Lightyear and Woody to have breakfast with Mickey and in the photo that was up of Mark, Mark was dressed as Woody with a great big red egg sized protrusion on his head. He’d been cleared by the lifeguards at the time of hurting himself, but in the picture with Mickey he just looked so happy. His joy was infectious.

It was just typical that Henry had gone to the toilet when Mickey made his rounds to the table, so he missed out on the photo opportunity. But what Henry also remembered from that time was how sensitive Mark was to him for having missed it. To the point where, on the last day of the trip, Mark ran up to Mini Mouse in the park and asked her for a picture with Henry because he missed out on a photo with Mickey. He was a good brother to him.

I’m so sorry Mark. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I was just scared. So fucking scared of being bitten that I… I… Shit Marky, I’m so sorry.

“Hey son.” Henry jumped and turned around. It was Alistair.

Was I talking out loud? Did he hear me? “Captain, you made me jump.”

“Sorry Henry. I didn’t mean to. We’re all heading back for the wake now, are you coming?”

“I’m not sure I’m up to it.”

“That’s understandable. We’d really like you there though. I know your mum would. The team really misses Mark too, and having you around might make them feel better.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Already left. You looked like you needed some time to yourself, so I told your mum I’d bring you.”

“Thanks Cap.”

The pair sat in silence as Alistair drove them to the pavilion they held their nightly briefings from, having been able to use it during the day for the wake.

There were a lot of people in the room, some stood around in groups talking whilst others were lining up for the buffet table.

“Hey honey,” Henry’s mum said when she saw him. He gave her a hug and kiss.

“Hey Mum. It’s ok if you need to take a break at some point. Just say, alright?”

“Thanks, but I like being busy at the moment, and making sure there’s enough food out. There’s so many people here, isn’t it lovely?”

“Yes Mum, it is.” He smiled warmly at her and she went off to find something to do.

“Henry, I’ve been meeting your team,” his Grandad said, coming from behind him. He was joined by Alistair, Lana, Nadheera, Gillo and Zoe. “They’re a good bunch aren’t they? I like your Captain, he’s got some good stories to tell.”

Alistair modestly raised his glass in appreciation. “I was just assuring your grandad that there is absolutely no rush for you to come back, if indeed you choose to do so. But if you do, we will do everything we can to look after you.”

“Thanks Cap. I’m pretty sure Mum will have me chained to the bed if I even dare think about coming back.”

“That’s why there’s no rush. Take the time, give her the time. She’ll come round.”

“Well, I hope so because I’d like to come back tomorrow night. No time like the present.” Henry’s grandad, Alistair and even Gillo exchanged looks. “I think it’ll be for the best. Keep me active and busy, and be around friends. Mark would’ve wanted it.”

“Would he?” Zoe asked instantly, catching Henry off guard a little.

“Well, yeah. I don’t think he’d want me to sit around not doing the thing we loved doing…”

She hmphed in response and left the group.

“What’s the little lady’s problem?” Grandad asked.

“Mark and her were… talking,” Lana said softly.

“Aaaah, I see,” Grandad said.

“Nadheera and I’ll go and see how she is,” Lana said, pulling Nadheera away with her.

“What time are we planting the ash tree? Grandad asked Alistair. As was custom when a member of the Neighbourhood Ancillary Stakers Corp. died whilst on duty, an ash tree was planted in the Division area of the where the deceased patrolled in. Ash was the wood that their stakes were made of, hence it was planted in honour of the fallen.

“In an hour, do you think?”

“Perfect,” agreed Grandad. “First I need something to eat. I think I saw a prawn ring on the table.”

***

Later, at night time across town, local vampuras were making the most of there being less Nasscies out on patrol. Whenever one died, the night of the funeral often had fewer out and about. It was a time where they could safely get together in slightly larger groups without being interrupted and dusted.

Five vampuras were sat around in a partially built house on a building site, over on the Highmarket Grange part of Tarmsworth St Jude.

“Is it just me or does this woman taste different to you?” the first vampura said five said, passing a wounded dying woman to one of his friends.

This second vampura took a suck on her neck and came back up to lick his lips in consideration. “Yeah, I think you’re right actually. She’s a bit… what is it… like, acidic? Like what sick tastes like when you used to accidentally swallow a bit back down by accident when you were unwell.”

Another of the five chuckled. “Man, I do not miss being able to throw up.” The other vampuras all murmured in agreement.

“Have you tasted anything like it before?” the first vampura asked.

“Nope, but I reckon it could be that new fast food place that opened in town. I’ve seen a lot of their trash lying around. Maybe it’s how they’re cooking their food?”

“No, no. I know what cholesterol tastes like, and this isn’t that. This is something else. There was this fat bloke once, like so fat he couldn’t walk and had one of those electric scooters. Anyway, it didn’t take much for me to hunt him and whilst he had a lot of blood, it reeked of cholesterol. And that was different than this for sure.”

The quieter vampura stood up, having heard enough. “Alright, alright. Here, lemme try. I wanna know what all the fuss is about.” The woman, now very much dead after being passed between and sucked on by more vampuras than a human body could cope with, was handed to this new vampura. He found somewhere for him to bite from on her neck and took a considerable suck. “Ok… So it’s not what we’re used to I get that. I’m definitely getting vomit undertones, but I think I could get used to it,” he said giving his verdict.

“Urgh, you’re weird,” his friend retorted. “I’m going to head out and find someone fresher. Anyone coming?”

***

Sure enough, the next night, Henry was back at the pavilion ready for the start of the shift.

“Are you sure you should be here?” David asked, catching him on the way in.

“Yes, a hunna percent,” Henry assured with a smile.

“What did your mum say?”

“A lot. But I’m an adult, I can make my own choices.”

David could only but shrug. Henry was an adult who could make his own choices, whether he agreed or not. “Fine, it is good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” said Henry.