The Source

by J B Stilwell

  We walk only a few feet inside the shaft, trying to use the trickling rays of sunlight to see just a little bit more. Tucker pulls out a cell phone and attempts to use the backlight as a guide, an effort that fails miserably. All the while Abe is crouching close to the ground as if he were looking for clues.

  Tucker looks at him. "The bodies were found deeper within the mine. If I knew we would be coming here I would have brought a flashlight."

  Abe nods, eyes scanning the ground of the entrance. "Evidence doesn't always just stay at the scene of the crime. Sometimes the bodies don't even stay at the scene. Attempting to be mobile is one of the easiest ways for a criminal to make a mistake."

  "I guess it's better than sticking around and giving yourself up to the authorities," I say.

  "Investigations are never that easy," Abe points out, "because if they were, the prisons would be even more overcrowded than they already are. You would be amazed at the number of crimes that are committed that are not only not punished, but never even reported."

  "Meaning that on any given day, we're surrounded by rapists and murderers," Tucker states matter-of-factly. I just look at him as he stares at me. The hairs on my arms rise as the surface of my skin prickles. Somehow I don’t think that it has anything to do with the coolness of the mine.

  I turn and leave the opening of the mine and walk back toward the abandoned buildings. Something bad has definitely happened here for a coal company to just up and leave. I mean, these types of industries are not known for being the best to the environment, but it looks like they didn't even bother to pack up or strip down. It would be like if your neighbors just left one day with all of their furniture, clothes, pictures and other possessions left in their once-rightful place. It raises too many questions, including what could have scared them so badly?

  I barely notice that Tucker and Abe are slowly following me, talking about the unsolved deaths. I go to the side door of the first building and try the handle. The door opens easily, but grates loudly like giant fingernails raking against an even bigger chalkboard. A slight tremble ripples through my body as I grit my teeth and step inside.

  Everything is dark but there are enough windows that I can see relatively well. It looks like an office building, as there are desks, chairs and filing cabinets. Everything was definitely left as is, from the half-filled-out forms on top of the cabinets to the dried up, moldy coffee residue within the cups on the desks. Yep, either everyone left in a hurry or after a normal day of work they were told never to return. Either way, no one just leaves things like this unless there is a very good reason.

  Tucker and Abe walk through the door. "Find anything interesting?" Tucker asks.

  "Not really. Just more confirmation that the company just up and left."

  Abe walks to the back of the office where there is another door. Opening the door we can see that it leads to a large area housing a lot of mining equipment. Abe stands there with his mouth hanging open, looking to the right side of the room. He takes a few more steps inside, walking toward whatever has caught his attention. Tucker and I look at each other, returning questioning glances before we follow Abe inside the other room. I look up to the right to see most of the wall is gone, the wilderness growing into the side of the building and invading the nooks and crannies of the mining equipment. More startling is the words that appear to be scratched into what is left of the wall:

  Nay-sayers are never believed

  Although they ever speak the truth

  The dead can never be relieved

  In a manner that is absolute

  But to believers, this much I say

  Your faith is not of blasphemy

  For seeing is always the way

  To rid the mind of fantasy

  I start to back toward the door and end up stumbling against Tucker. "Sorry. I think we should leave."

  Tucker half-laughs. "Why? There's nothing to be scared about. No one is here."

  I shake my head. "It just doesn't feel right, with that writing. It's too eerie."

  "Did they ever determine who wrote it?" Abe asks.

  "Well," Tucker responds, "the official documentation states that it was written by whoever was responsible for the deaths. The message is not serious in any sense except to get the coal company to leave."

  Looking slightly confused, Abe asks, "Why would something like this make the coal company leave?"

  Staring at the floor I softly say, "Because the miners left."

  Tucker looks at me. "That's right. How did you know?"

  I shrug. "An educated guess."

  Abe walks over to us. "I consider myself educated, but I never would have guessed that."

  "That's because you're not from around here," I say. "Many people in West Virginia live by the Old Ways. There are beliefs here that some would call superstition, such as a belief in ghosts and other supernatural creatures. There was a time when it was accepted as fact. Then with the advances of science, it was shrugged off as superstition. Now in today's world, when we not only know that vampires exist but they are accepted in society, who knows. Regardless, I think that many of the miners or their families did not want to take the risk that the message wasn't a warning, but a prophecy of something that can’t be stopped by normal humans. With that fear, they had no choice but to leave so they wouldn't end up like the three who were already dead."

  Abe hums while rubbing his hand back and forth over his chin, turning to look again at what is left of the ragged wall.

  I turn, pushing past Tucker as I walk back toward the car. The place officially makes my skin crawl, so there is no point in staying any longer when I don’t have to. Besides, it’s getting late and I need to clean up before returning to the research facility. I get into my car and start the engine. When I don’t see Tucker or Abe, I honk the horn not caring if anyone learns of our little trip through the fence. After several moments I honk the horn again and I finally see them heading toward the car.

  When we are all settled in the safety of my clunky sedan, I put it in gear to turn around. "I'll take you all back to your cars so that we can go home and rest before getting back to work."

  Tucker suggests, "Maybe one day when we have more time we can come back."

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Abe responds, "I want to do that. I'm interested to know more information about the case and see where the bodies were actually found."

  Tucker looks at me. "Are you game?"

  I keep my eyes on the road while occasionally glancing back at Abe in the rearview mirror. After a few breaths I say, "Why would I need to go?"

  "You might know more about why the miners would have reacted the way that they did. You definitely would know more than me and Abe."

  "Maybe, but everything would just be assumption," I say.

  "It's better than what we have now," Abe remarks, "and maybe it could lead to some real answers about what happened."

  I shake my head. "There is no need to go messing with things like this just to satisfy your curiosity. It always kills the cat, remember?"

  "You're afraid," Tucker states.

  I grip the steering wheel. "I'm not afraid. I'm just cautious and practical."

  "Cautious and practical are the roadblocks to greatness," Abe murmurs.

  We pull into the facility parking lot and I stop the car. "Look, cautious and practical keeps you alive. We have a very specific job here in Rowan, which does not include poking around at an abandoned mine with cryptic writing on the wall. Sometimes when you look for answers, you don't like what you find. And at that point, it's too late to do anything about it. Better to leave well enough alone."

  Abe gets out of the car and leans back in, "Some of the worst tragedies in human history could have been stopped if someone would have cared enough to look for answers." He shuts the door and walks to the back of the parking lot.

  I sigh then look at Tucker. "Well, what do you have to say?"

  He smiles a little. "I agree with Abe. But I al
so agree with you. I think there is more to why the miners left. I think they know more about what's going on, but I don't think they'll talk about it. At least not with me, a longhaired guy from New York. Regardless of how long I've lived here."

  He holds my gaze for several moments. "Just think about it."

  "Consider it considered."

  Tucker walks to his car. I push on the gas and speed out of the parking lot in an attempt to outrun the nightmares. I'll have to let Tucker know how that works out for me.

  Chapter 15

  When I return to the research suite a couple of hours later, the room is completely empty. There is no sign that Rick or Ms. Montgomery have been around yet this evening, which leaves me to my own devices for the beginning of the work night.

  I go to the storage cabinet and get the specimen containers and set them on the center island. I begin turning around in a circle trying to determine where I could find a microscope. From overhead I hear a buzzing sound followed by crackling. I look up at the ceiling waiting for the world to come tumbling on top of me before I hear Ms. Montgomery's voice, "Microscopes can be located in the lower cabinets of the center island."

  Scowling, I continue looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, that's just creepy. Where are you and how did you know what I was thinking?"

  "I'm in the observation room. You were advised that you would be observed by several methods, including being recorded. The observation room is where the recording equipment is housed."

  I keep looking over the ceiling, turning before waving at the ceiling. "Okay, thanks." Gazing at my upraised hand I realize just how ridiculous I must look. I try to nonchalantly run that hand through my hair as I walk around the center island to open the lower cabinets. As I am getting the microscope out, I hear the door to the suite open and close. I straighten up just far enough for my head to peak over the island to see Rick looking around the room. "I'm over here."

  Jerking back around he says, "Jesus, vampires can get startled too, you know."

  I stand, "Sorry, was just getting the microscope." I lift it to prove that I have no ill intent.

  Rick walks to the center island and picks up one of the specimen containers. He turns it around in his hands before saying, "So what exactly is this and how did you get it?"

  I relay the story of what happened with Thalia and how four of her fingers were cut off for the purpose of our experiment. He just nods as he sets the container down and claps his hands. "Good. Now we're going to use the microscope to try to determine what?"

  I just stare at him in complete shock. "Good?" I set the microscope on the counter. "I'm surprised that you would think anything about this is good."

  I can see Rick grinding his jaw as he rests his hands on the island and leans forward, "It upsets me to see senseless vampire deaths. But make no mistake about it; I have no sympathy for a vampire who murders in cold blood. We both heard why Thalia is locked up." He shakes his head. "Losing a few fingers is merciful compared to what I would like to do her."

  I take a step back, "Okay, Rick. I knew you were passionate about certain things, but I didn't know that you were capable of such violence. I thought you said it was something that you would only do when you thought necessary, like to protect yourself. Was that just bullshit?"

  Rick lowers his head, his fingers picking at something on the marble top of the island. "Remember when we talked about how there could be a special bond created between a vampire and a human? And you said that it sounded like I was speaking from experience?" He looks up at me, "Do you remember?"

  I nod.

  "It was the 1980s. Her name was Serenity. We met at CBGB's in New York. The Cramps were playing that night." He gets a wistful look in his eyes as he continues talking. "There have been multiple subcultural movements within the U.S. that have allowed vampires to easily blend in with humans. Punk, New Wave, Goth, Emo. Any time there has been a group of young people embracing the peculiar to express themselves, vampires have been there. It was easy. With the way everyone else looked and behaved, no one questioned us or thought us out of place. Heroin chic was particularly nice because we didn't even have to worry about explaining puncture wounds." He smiles, "We always kept our identities secret. We would only reveal ourselves to someone special."

  He leans back and relaxes more while resting against the center island.

  “Serenity was there partying with a group of friends. They were having a good time, enjoying the music, enjoying the alcohol. She was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen. She was wearing a ripped black t-shirt, black jean shorts with black studded bracelets and a leather collar to match. Her hair was blond and in complete disarray, like it had been a while since it had seen a comb. She wore no make-up except for black eyeliner and lip-gloss that made her lips shine like a brand new toy covered in candy-coated goodness. I wanted to play with her.” He smiled. “My intent was to enjoy her for as long as I could. But after the debauchery of that night, things changed.”

  “Thank you for not going into detail about that,” I say as I cross my arms against my stomach.

  He looks up at me with a grin tugging at the side of his mouth. “I am many things, one of which is a gentleman of sorts. Details are for the disrespectful.”

  I tilt my head in appreciation before he continues, “In talking to her, I found that she had an understanding of life that I had never seen in another human. She knew just how precious it was, that it’s a gift that could be taken away when you least expect it and should be fully cherished and enjoyed for that reason. I know many people express those words, but very few actually feel it, actually live by it. Serenity did.” He shakes his head as if to this day he couldn’t believe it. “Because of that I found her to be the most exotic of beauties. I fell in love. For a vampire on the prowl, I guess it was a mistake. Not falling in love, but actually talking to her, talking to my prey. She didn’t just give me her blood. She showed me her soul. I was completely lost at that point.”

  “She let you drink from her? She knew you were a vampire? Didn’t she freak out?” I ask.

  “Hardly. With the crazy shit that was going on at that time, it wasn’t surprising to her. Sorry for the language.” He smiles sheepishly. “To help things for me even more, the New Age movement had been gaining speed in the bigger cities. Interest in the occult was everywhere and many people began believing the old ‘myths.’ So, learning those myths were true only validated their beliefs, rather than shocking them into defense. It wasn’t that way everywhere, but definitely much more so in New York at that time. The punk crowd wasn’t too much into believing much of anything, but the nightlife was weird enough that no one questioned it. So, I prowled, I preyed...and I fell in love.”

  I step closer to the island, “What happened to her?”

  His head drops down as his fingers tense, curling against his palms, forming half-fists. “Not all vampires appreciated the bond that we could develop with a human. Some were even outright against it, calling it an abomination for our kind. The common feeling in this group was that you didn’t fall in love with your food.” He makes an exasperated sound as he pushes away from the island and begins pacing the floor. “Word got around with other vampires that I had a ‘pet’ human, that I was seen with the same one all of the time. Given our secrecy then, even those who weren’t against the bonding per se wanted nothing to do with those type of relationships as they could out us all. It was considered too risky.” He looks at me, his hands thrust out in the closest thing to defeat that I’ve ever seen on a man. “Love doesn’t consider these things.”

  He paces more as he runs both of his hands through his hair, slightly tugging. His pain is so palpable that I can feel it lodge in the back of my throat, making it difficult for me to swallow.

  Struggling to keep back the tears, he chokes as he continues, “A group of the more extreme vampires decided that something must be done. Not only did they hate the idea of mixing with humans, they used the fear of being exposed to get sup
port from the calmer vamps of the community. I tried to protect Serenity by laying low, keeping out of sight. We should have just left New York because it got to the point where it seemed like every vampire was hunting us.” He forces a laugh. “It’s kind of funny that depending on the time and who’s telling the story, we give this type of behavior certain names, when a group of people take violent action to protect their identity, their way of life. In the 1960s and 1970s we would have called them freedom fighters...in the 1980s, gangs...in the 1990s, guerillas...the year 2001 gave us terrorists.” He shakes his head, “Regardless of what label you put on it, people died while others were left heart-broken.”

  He turns his back to me as his shoulders turn in toward his chest. He stands there quietly for several moments. I feel like I am experiencing the hurt with him and want to comfort him, at least for a little while. I start to slowly walk around the center island when he whips around, rage contorting his face. “They did it during the day while I was sleeping. They had paid some guys to kidnap her. Probably drug addicts needing money for a score. It was easy to do in New York in the eighties. Just flash some cash and a junkie would do just about anything.” He shook his head. “She had gone out to do some shopping. She knew that she couldn’t be seen, so she wore a disguise. Somehow, some way, they knew it was her.” He moves toward me, his stride like a stalking panther. “They caught her outside of a boutique in SoHo. They kidnapped her, the vampires ravaged her, then left her in an alley.”

  He stands right before me, leaning in closely with a menacing look in his eyes. I grip the side of the island, trying not to be afraid because I know it is his pain showing.

  After several moments of his eyes darting back and forth as if he were watching a horror movie unravel before him, he says, “When the police found her, it was ruled a drug-related killing. They had found what they said were pieces of crack on her chest, but I knew better. What they found was actually the remains of a vampire that had died from sun exposure, the dried pieces of flesh. The pools of blood were ruled to be from the struggle of a deal gone bad. Crack addiction was so rampant that the police didn’t even bother to check into the finer details. But I knew. It was a message about what would happen next. What the punishment for cavorting with humans would be.”