Chapter Four

Conrad Duke’s face was set in a grim mask as he wove through the traffic on his motorcycle. He glanced at his watch and swore. He had twenty minutes to be at home to relieve the babysitter from her duties, and take her home. He grinned as he thought of how she could pay him. At forty-eight, Duke’s life was far from perfect. He had only recently divorced from his wife of eight years. The stupid bitch had run off with some accountant and had left him caring for their two year old son, Wes. He hadn’t minded that, but he could have done with more money than that whore had left him with. He didn’t know how he had done it, but he had held on to all the money he could until he could afford to look after his small family. Now it was just him and his son…hopefully soon they would be joined by the babysitter. As Duke turned into a deserted side street, he licked his lips just thinking of her.

He could see her in his mind’s eye. At only twenty two, Olivia Grant was every man’s wet dream. Shoulder length light brown hair framed an oval face, with soft green Italian eyes looking out. Her body was too perfect, the slinky dresses she wore doing nothing to hide the fact that she wore nothing underneath. Underneath his pants, his penis started to stiffen as he thought of her ample breasts and her shapely ass. He thought of her wide mouth wrapped around his cock, ready to drink what came out. He dreamed of the day that he would finally be able to take her virginity away from her and make her his. So into his fantasy was he, that he didn’t notice a wooden beam right in front of his head. He struck into it, the impact throwing him off the bike and onto the asphalt. Stunned as he was, he also did not notice the fireball in the distance – what had once been his bike.

As he picked himself up off the road, he noticed that he was bleeding from a small wound near his neck. He knew that the wound did not hit an artery because of the minimal amount of blood that seeped from it. he shook his head rapidly, clearing away the last of the fog that had enshrouded his brain. His eyes focused on the pile of scrap metal at the base of one of the walls, groaning as he realised that it was his beloved motorcycle. He shook his head in dismay, glancing down at his watch. The shatterproof face hadn’t shattered or cracked, but now this delay would mean that he would have to pay Olivia overtime – a thought that pleased him immensely.

As he took a few steps away from the wreckage of his motorbike, he felt a sharp pain on his left side. Feeling along the tender area, he hissed in pain as he realised that he had broken a few ribs in the impact. His back ached as well as his arms, legs and neck. Ironically, the only part of him that didn’t hurt was his head. As he started to laugh, a sharp pain along his jaw line proved him wrong. Feeling up, he winced as he felt a large gash stretching from his right ear to his chin. Squinting in the dim light, he could barely see the blood that coated his fingers as he pulled them away. He paused for a moment, hearing something behind him. He turned around to see that he was surrounded by eight  teenagers, the eldest looking seventeen or so and wearing a worn leather jacket. He leered at Duke, the tone of his voice rough and grating.

“Hey, you look like you’ve had a bad night. It’s about to get worse.”

Duke sighed wearily. He didn’t need this. Not right now.

“All of my money was in my bike. It’s ash now.

Before the thug could retaliate, a strange noise filled the air. The Duke it sounded like the swarm of butterflies on one of those nature documentaries he had seen with his son. The wing beats were somehow…heavier than butterflies, almost bat-like. Slowly, a long shadow blotted out the moon, causing the thugs and Drake to look up.

What he saw made him go weak at the knees.

A large cloud of moths, bigger than any he’d ever seen before, were flying overhead. So far it seemed that they hadn’t spotted them. He was about to move out of the open when something wet fell on his head, seemingly coming from the insects flying overhead. More drops followed, falling rapidly.  He reached up to feel it with his fingers, brought his hand down, then once again squinted in the moonlight to see what it was.

It was blood. Human blood.

Somehow, drops of dark red blood were coming from the moths. Duke estimated that there were about a thousand moths in the swarm. He was also aware that they were coming closer, dropping their furred bodies lower and lower, until they brushed against his head.

As they enveloped him, he dimly realised that the thugs were screaming in pain. Then darkness came for him.