Radioactive.

The instant Darren stepped off the cattle truck he inhaled the largest breath of his entire life. The smell had been seven levels of putrid, his own trousers messed and crusted with varying bodily fluids he could not expel more comfortably or hygienically. Under the locks of his black hair, Darren felt beasties crawling and biting him. He had complained until Arra had pointed out that lice were only trying to feed on his blood and so he shouldn't be a hypocrite.

"Arra?" Darren called as he watched Larten and Arra detangle themselves from the tight embrace they'd shared for the entire week long ride. Holding Arra's hand, Larten followed on and took in his surroundings which Darren felt comforting; Mr Crepsley had always known how to act in situations like these.

"Aye, Darren?" Arra smiled, taking his hand as well to save them from being separated. They had no goods with them, no belongings other than the disgusting clothes they'd been living in since the day Wester betrayed them but Darren could see the Nazis busying themselves with stripping individuals of small briefcases and bags.

"Stay close to us," Darren stated firmly, squeezing her hand tightly. He knew what happened next, he'd read the history books in school before all this time travel shite to save his future.

Darren knew he and Larten would be split up from Arra; women meant nothing to these humans. It was men they wanted, men who could lift heavy loads and be worked to death.

As if on cue…

A human pointed his gun straight into Larten's face and motioned him to the right with Arra. Darren shivered in terror as he was pushed to the left with frail looking old men.

"Darren!" Larten yelled as he fought through the mob being pushed to the right. He waved and swam through bodies to get to the front of the group where he made a grab for his friend.

"Larten! Larten, where are you?!" Arra yelled from the back of the group as they started to move, "Darren? Larten?"

"Arra!" Larten yelled as he tried to reach out for Darren before being butted in the nose by a Nazi's rifle. He fell to the muddy floor in a daze. "My friend," Larten explained, trying to motion to Darren as another Nazi kicked him to the gut.

When a third officer went to kick him, Larten gave him no chance and grabbed his boot before throwing him high up into the air. Snarling, the vampire lunged to his feet and puffed out his chest as the thrown fell a good thirty feet.

"Come on then!" Larten invited him before being pushed in next to Darren. He felt his friend wrap his arms tight around his shoulders before they two were pushed forward with the other humans.

"Arra!" Darren yelled as he saw the other group disappear behind some greying buildings. He nearly threw up when he heard gunshots and screaming. He grabbed tighter hold of Larten, horrified that he had almost lost his best friend to a firing squad had he not shown his strength to the officers.

"ARRA!" Larten roared the loudest, like a distressed animal screaming out to a missing mate. "ARRA I'M SORRY!" he cried in horror, "I'm sorry. I'm s-s-sorr-ry," he stammered in shock before blacking out against Darren and becoming a snivelling mess as the adrenaline finally ran through his system.

The days became weeks and the weeks became months and then Darren stopped caring. He felt an itch on his thigh and forced himself to scratch it but it was so much effort that he nearly blacked out again.

Sometime later…

Gods, this was nearly it, Darren thought as his skeletal arm snaked down the cavity which was his lower stomach, slivered up a mountain-like hip bone before reaching a dirty twig sized thigh. He was dying.

Larten's stomach gurgled in pain as he lay sleeping under Darren's free arm. He was dying also, Darren was sure. Lately he spent most of his time sleeping with his brother and attempting to conserve what energy he could to survive a little longer. His cheeks were just empty holes in his face, those dull green eyes were so sunken that it broke Darren's heart. Softly, Darren brushed his ripped lips against Larten's forehead softly to attempt to ease his suffering in his sleep.

Thoughts of Arra haunted the two musketeers now and often they stayed up through the day and discussed how they would rip Wester apart for what he'd done to his supposed family, to his mate! Larten was hell bent on revenge. The mere thought of Wester's blood coursing down Larten's lips as he chewed his throat open was all the nourishment which the vampire needed to keep alive just a little longer.

Carefully, Darren brought his other arm up to enclose around his mentor, sighing against his scabby skin.

"Larten?" he called in a horrific croaking voice. "Larten? Can you wake up for a bit?" It was such an effort to speak now that, once more, Darren felt himself on the borderline of unconsciousness.

"Yes, Darren?" Larten yawned tiredly, head not lifting or turning to see his friend; he was just too exhausted.

"Can you promise me something?" Darren mumbled against the back of his neck, his words sluggish and almost a drunken slur which was difficult to comprehend to human ears. "Promise me… you'll never ever join the Cirque Du Freak? Never. It's important, Larten."

"I promise," Larten said softly, no doubt understanding what was about to happen as fresh tears cleared a path through the mud on his face.

"And… Larten? Do not let hatred rule your life. My death does not need to be avenged. Live as a free vampire, not as a twisted, revenge-driven creature of despair. Do not become like Wester. My spirit will not rest easy in paradise if you do." Darren cried, tightening his grip on his best friend.

"You don't want me to kill Wester?" Larten asked doubtfully.

"By all means do! Just don't become devoted to the task," Darren wheezed as they laid in silence for a brief moment.

"You're a really wise man, Darren Shan," Larten eventually sighed.

"I learnt from a really wise man, Larten Crepsley."