The tube train doors closed. It was hot and stuffy - way too many people were in the carriage.
It smelt of bodies and sweat. The train rattled out of Euston Road Station and into the tunnel. The lights flickered above me, sending the carriage into a moment's darkness. The lights came back on and with it, a scream. It was ear-splitting and I covered my ears with my hands. The train lurched over a set of points, and with my hands covering my ears; I stumbled into the male standing next to me. My face came to rest against his sweaty armpit. He didn't notice, he was too busy, like all the other passengers wedged in beside me, the guy was straining to see who had screamed. Gripping the handrail above me, I regained my balance and looked through the mass of bodies to see what was happening further down the carriage.
There was another scream - this time it was different. It sounded more like a roar.
"What's happening?" a plump, middle-aged woman asked, fear and confusion brimming in her eyes.
Another scream. This time nearer. Then those passengers lucky enough to have grabbed themselves a seat started to stand, so they too could see what was going on.
Another scream but this time it sounded like whoever had made it was gurgling on something in the back of their throat. Then there was chaos.
Those at the opposite end of the carriage started towards those of us at the far end. Bodies began to enclose tighter around me as people tried desperately to get away from whatever was at the other end of the carriage.
"Let me out!" Someone screamed, their voice bordering on hysteria.
"It ripped her fucking throat out!" Some cried.
"Did you see that?"
Passengers rushed towards me in a blur of panic, their eyes bulging from their sockets with terror.
Another scream! Standing on tiptoe, I frantically tried to get a glimpse of what was happening at the other end of the carriage. Then a jet of crimson liquid sprayed across the walls.
"Jesus!" the man with the sweaty armpits screamed and his voice was shrill like that of a little girl. He turned to look at me and I could see that his face was speckled with little red drops of blood.
More screams and blood, as I was pushed back into the side of the carriage and crushed against the door. Then I saw a familiar face in the crowd - how would I ever forget his piercing blue eyes? Those sunken cheeks and the way he wore that black wide brimmed hat.
"What's happening?" the plump woman squealed, clutching her handbag to her chest as if were going to offer her some kind of protection.
"A priest just ripped some woman's throat out with his teeth!" a spotty-looking youth gasped as he started to hoist himself on to the shoulders of those near him in an attempt to get away. I watched as he fought his way over the heads of other passengers, knocking some of them to the ground who then became trampled underfoot by those that stampeded through the carriage. As he came closer, I could see that his face wasn't covered in spots but in lumps of bloodied flesh.
Taking hold of the handrail, I tried to pull myself up, desperate not to be pulled under with the tide of people that now trampled over the seats and each other. I strained to see back down the carriage at the face that I had recognised. His eyes met mine, and his lips turned up in a smile. No, not a smile, a snarl.
"Taylor," I whispered.
"Open the door! Open the fucking door!"
someone squealed.
"I'm being crushed!" yelled another.
"I can't breathe!" someone gasped.
Turning, I looked at the knot of bodies pressed against the interconnecting carriage door. But the door opened inwards and with so many bodies pressed against it, it was impossible to open.
"Move back! Move Back!" A guy with glasses was screaming. But then he was gone, drowning beneath the sea of frantic passengers. I tried to reach down for his hand to pull him free, but his fingers slipped from my grasp, and I was suddenly grateful for the deafening screams all around me, as his fingers were snapped beneath somebody's boot.
I didn't want to hear the sound of those fingers being crushed.
More screams from the opposite end of the carriage - where Taylor stood, blood running from his chin like crimson gravy. A fair-haired woman seemed to suddenly pounce from the floor of the carriage as if being launched from a springboard.
Her eyes rolled in their sockets and they burnt orange as if on fire. Her face was as white as soap but her neck was...was open. I could see her windpipe opening and closing like a fist as she gasped for air. Her torn open throat made a sucking and burping noise. Then she opened her mouth and revealed a drooling set of fangs.
Those passengers still unfortunate enough not to have been able to press themselves into the opposite end of the carriage looked at her, their mouths open in shock and terror. Then she was on them, her arms pin wheeling at the speed of motorboat blades as her claws sliced through those around her. Lifting them from where they'd fallen as if they were rag dolls, she buried her face into their necks.
"Please! Please!" I heard somebody sob from close by. I looked down to see a young woman, not much older than myself kneeling on one of the cushioned seats. She had removed one of her stilettos and was smashing the heel against one of the carriage windows.
"Please let me out! Please!" she cried, as she slammed the heel of her shoe into the glass. But the reinforced glass didn't even chip and the heel of her shoe snapped loose, bouncing back and striking her across the forehead. A gash appeared, seeping blood down into her eyes. The victims of the fair- haired woman must have smelt the blood running from the girl's forehead, because they sprung-up from the carriage floor, newly awakened, their own throats open and sucking in air.
The girl dropped her broken shoe and frantically rubbed the blood from her eyes, but in her moment of blindness, the vampires took their chance and dragged her to the floor kicking and screaming.
I could feel the tube train begin to slow and I looked up to see that we were pulling into Kings Cross underground station. Before the train had even come to a stop, the passengers that crushed against me were trying to pry the doors open with their fingers. The people on the platform were unaware of what was awaiting them. I opened my mouth to scream at them to run - to get off the platform. But I was unable to form the words - it felt as if something had got lodged in the back of my throat and I was gagging on whatever it was.
The train stopped. The doors were forced open and the frantic passengers spilled on top of each other onto the platform. Some of those passengers waiting looked stunned and bewildered as they were trampled under foot.
Those that had been bitten on the train sprang with lightening speed from the carriage and launched themselves at the unsuspecting commuters. Within seconds the platform had become a scene of complete panic and confusion.
People fell, collapsed and collided with one another in shear terror. Their screams echoed through the tunnels and maze of passageways beneath ground.
The carriage had emptied and I found myself alone, unable to move, my arm stuck in the air, gripping the safety rail. I looked right and I could see that I wasn't alone after all. Taylor stood at the opposite end of the carriage. He was now stripped to the waist. His body was white, almost opaque, and his ribs seemed to poke through his skin like rungs on a ladder. His mottled black wings hung from his back like a tattered cape. His eyes were fixed on mine, but he didn't come forward. He just stood there. I couldn't bear the sight of his eyes; it was as if they were boring into me - looking inside of me.
Turning away, I looked through the open carriage door and out onto the platform and watched the girl with the bleeding forehead, hobble up the platform in her one remaining stiletto as she sought out her first victim. Looking back at Taylor, he smiled at me and whispered, "Wake..."