Excerpt: Dark Frontier

“I think that Boy Dorkins thinks that we’re dealing with a vampire.” said David Watkins before anyone else could answer, as he let his eyes wander across the nearby slopes, sensitive to any sign of movement.

“Boy? Think? Rubbish. He’s not allowed to think.” scoffed Wilmer “It’s against the rules. I wasn’t allowed to think for five years after I joined the Regiment, neither were you, so I see no reason to treat Dorkins as if he possesses the power of thought. As his commanding officer I insist that you order him to stop doing any more thinking. It’s bad for him, he’s much too young”

“Why on earth does he need vampires? Doesn’t he have enough on his plate with the Pathans?” said Lamont very slowly as he focused his glasses on a point on a nearby hill “They’re up there you know, waiting and watching.”

“Well, what do you think about a night attack?” asked Inchcape “Serious answers will be welcome.”

“Certainly not on a night like this.” answered Borthwick “Even Johnny Pathan needs some light to kill us by and there’ll be no moon tonight, it’ll be as black as the General’s heart.”

“Now a moonless night wouldn’t bother vampires, I bet their red glowing eyes let them see in total,blackness.” said Lamont.

“Give it a rest, there’s good chap.” said Borthwick trying as hard as possible to put disbelief in his voice, because he had been half persuaded by Brown and felt nervous.

“It was Brown, putting the idea into his head.” pronounced Lamont “And you didn’t help, David, talking about Welsh vampires.

“No, it’s not down to Brown, he was keen on the things before he got here and once he was here he started buying up pictures to go with his books and whatnots.” said David with a shake of the head “Vampires and things like that are very fashionable back home. So I’m told.”

None of the original members wanted to mention the really strange and disturbing thing about Boy, which was not his interest in vampires and demons, but the way he had moved into the haunted bungalow, made himself at home and even seemed to be comfortable there. That, and the stories that the sepoys told, about him being able to speak to ghosts and being blessed by the priests.

“Put it down to a touch of sun…” began Inchcape.

“Touch of sun be damned.” said Pugsley “The sun’s got nothing to do with it. What Boy is suffering from is a severe case of overwork. His trouble is that he’s young, innocent, willing and extremely conscientious. Which would be all very well, if he hadn’t fallen into the clutches of you lot of bone idle, swaggering wastrels who keep loading your responsibilities onto his skinny young shoulders.”

“Are you calling me a bone ideal, swaggering wastrel, Pugsley? Because if you are then I might just take offence and demand satisfaction.” said Wilmer , in a not entirely jocular voice.

“But you won’t, because if you did then I’d have choice of weapons and you know that I, as a Gunner, would choose siege howitzers at ten paces.” airily replied Pugsley, with a wave of his pipe

“Wilmer, I demand that you demand satisfaction of Pugsley. Then you can both blow each other to kingdom come and put an end to the bickering.” was Borthwick’s response. “But, getting back to Boy for the moment, we are all going to have to get it into his head that this isn’t Transylvania it’s the Kurram; those hills aren’t the Carpathians, they’re the Safed Koh; it’s not Count Dracula in his castle being a minor nuisance it’s the Fakir of Vardak up there in the Tora Bora caves trying to raise the tribes, and when the people round here want to drain your blood they slit your throat from ear to ear, not nibble your neck.”

“True. If he doesn’t grow up soon he’ll not grow up at all, not here on the Frontier and not when the Wazirs, the Orakzai and all the rest of them are out there, waiting for us to make a slip and let them get away with a handful of our private parts, a Martini-Henry or so and a pouch full of cartridges.” said Lamont, coming very close to expressing openly what they all privately feared, that they too would end up captured, castrated then flayed alive, or worse.

“That’s enough, let’s get some sleep and be ready for the morning.” said Yates with finality. .

Boy had turned in early, wrapped in a blanket, and was dropping off to sleep, thinking about the warnings from Peter, Bill and Dick; the wounds that Brown had pointed out and the uneasy feelings he had and about vampires.

The young Waziri tribesman waited until he could hear no sound of movement and was sure that the young kaffir officer, was asleep, then snaked his way silently out from behind the stacked ammunition boxes and towards Boy.. His knife was gripped in his teeth, his strangling cord wrapped around his left wrist and he was certain that he would be able to slit the young Kaffir’s throat, take some trophies and be gone before any alarm was raised.

Twenty feet away one of the bhistis, the water carriers from the field ambulance, saw a movement and kicked the sowar, a cavalry trooper from the Deccan, who was dozing next to him. The sowar woke with a start, blinked, shook his head, saw the movement and then half stood, pulled back the hammer of his Snider carbine, aimed and fired in one smooth, well practiced movement. The sowar’s aim was true. The heavy, old fashioned bullet hit the Waziri on the side of his chest, just below the armpit and smashed its way through the lung and then the heart, then the left lung before coming to rest just under the skin. The Pathan died, as he had moved, without a sound.

The sowar reloaded and moved carefully towards his target. Boy woke up with a start at the sound of the shot, heart pounding and eyes staring. The bhisti gave a half smile and leant back against the pile of rice sacks and watched as the ready platoon stormed up, with Watkins in the lead, sword drawn and pistol in hand. Once he was sure that the infiltrator was dead and that there were no other intruders in the camp , went over to Boy and led him over to the young Pathan’s body.

“There’s your vampire, Boy, take a look at him. Take a good look. It’s a man, not a monster, a Pathan not a bat. Scarcely a stitch on, you see that? Now, reach down and touch him, go on, time you got used to bodies. Feel that? Body covered in grease to pick up the dust and make him look like a patch of ground, d’you see? These blighters are brave determined and cunning, so never underestimate them. This one probably came here this morning, hid out all day and then stayed still and silent while we built the camp around him. And then he waited until things had gone quiet before making a move. I’d put my money on one of these chaps against a vampire any day of the week.” said Watkins “You’re damned lucky that that sowar potted this one or like as not you’d be dead and Colonel Fergusson would be looking forward to writing a letter to your parents. Now get a grip on yourself.”

“But what if there are vampires?” began Boy, still stunned and hypnotized by the sight of the dead Pathan at his feet, and so near to his tent.