AWOL: A Character Lost

by Anthony Renfro

  “Both of them were so hideous that I was frozen for a moment. I didn’t even check on my husband, but I knew he was dead. There was just so much blood and pieces. Nobody could have survived an attack like that, not even him.”

  She trailed off, another sip, back to the story.

  “I unfroze and went back inside for a weapon, but by the time I got back the vampire was gone. So was the werewolf. I guess you could call it a werewolf. That’s what we call them, but no, they aren’t true werewolves. We think the vampires modify them in such a way, genetically alter them some how.”

  “How did you know it was a vampire?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think while I stood there it smiled at me or hissed, but either way, I saw its teeth glinting in the moon light. I could see the fangs. I guess I just put my best assumption on it.”

  “Sharp eyes,” the character replied, watching the fire for a moment.

  “You have to have them out here.”

  She took another sip of water and continued.

  “I buried my husband the next day, what was left of him, and then went into town. I heard more people talking about something similar happening to them the previous night. The mortuary was overrun with crying people, widows and widowers. Shortly thereafter, with the next full moon, the attacks happened, I mean really happened. The night my husband died, it was more like a –”

  “Test killing,” the character replied, eyes back on Becky.

  “That’s a good way to put it because when the attacks started to happen, at each full moon, they were more lethal, more people died, and on the night of my husband’s death, no one was taken. It was like they were just testing these beasts to see how they worked.”

  She paused, a gulp of water, back to it.

  “We think the werewolves are sent ahead of this pack of vampires in order to create chaos. The vampires then swoop in on their horses and go on the hunt. The ones they decide are feeding worthy are taken back to their castle.”

  “So you guys were trying to stop it tonight?”

  “Just the werewolves, we knew we were no match for both of them, especially at night. We were hoping to minimize the carnage by taking out one wave of the attacks.”

  “Has anyone been to the castle?” The character asked, as he looked at the fire, which crackled and popped, as it had its way with the wood.

  “No, because the werewolves guard the castle as the vampires sleep. We’ve scouted it out, but no one has tried to approach it. It’s too risky.”

  She yawned, and he joined her. She looked at him, the light reflecting off her soft blue eyes. He turned to face her as she squeezed his knee. He really wanted her and was trying not to. What she was wearing didn’t help, tight black house pants, loose shirt, no bra, nipples erect against the cotton fabric.

  “I know this is off subject and maybe a bit forward, but would you be up to us -” She bit her lip like a school girl. “It has just been a long time for me, and you are the first guy I have been attracted to since I lost my husband.”

  “I’m flattered. I really am, but my wife and kids -”

  “Enough said. I understand. I’m sorry.”

  “In another time and another place, I would be all over you. I’m fighting the devil right now. Trust me on this.”

  “We should get some sleep.” Tears started to slip from her eyes as she turned away from him.

  He touched her chin and turned her head back around so they could see eye to eye. “Look, it was on both of our minds, and I’m not just saying another time and another place to be a nice guy. I really mean that.”

  “I know,” she replied.

  He took her in his arms and held her. She lay against his chest and wasn’t ashamed to let the tears flow free. He thought about the fight and how strong she had seemed. I guess everyone has a breaking point.

  His eyes felt heavy as she snuggled in, and eventually stopped crying.

  The fire popped and sizzled, burning steady.

  Time passed, and they both slept.

  *

  They woke up sometime in the middle of the afternoon. The house was cold, and the fire was out. The sun had now shifted its position and was slanting in through the windows at different angles. The character wiped the sleep out of his eyes as Becky rose up to a sitting position, and stretched, her breasts pushing against the fabric, nipples erect from the cold.

  “What time is it?”

  He looked at the clock on the wall. “Somewhere after 3,” he replied, eyes shifting to her breasts. He still wanted her.

  “Crap.”

  “What?” He asked, eyes shifting from her breasts to her face.

  “We were supposed to be at the castle by at least 4.”

  “Why?”

  “The sun sets quicker these days, and we need to hit these bastards at dusk, which will be somewhere close to 5 or a little after. Tonight they feed, and this is when they will be the weakest. If we don’t get them now, then they will go back into their slumber for another month. With the werewolves in disarray, this is the best chance we will ever have.”

  “How far is the castle?”

  “We can be there by 4 if we leave now.” She got up off the couch and stretched. “What do you need to do so you can be ready?”

  “Nothing really, I just need something warm.”

  “You’ll need long underwear under those pants, and another couple of layers.”

  “What I had on before was fine.”

  “Clean stuff’s better, plus its warmer. Let me change, and then I will help you.”

  She went into the master bedroom and left the character alone. He sat there for a moment with his eyes closed, trying to calm his nerves. He opened his eyes and noticed the master bedroom door hadn’t closed all the way. He could see her moving around inside there, undressing. He knew he should have looked away, but he couldn’t help it. With each layer she lost he saw just how beautiful she was, not just in the face, but all over. Eyes fulfilled, he turned away and stood up. He adjusted himself and let the small erection fall back to limp, as he looked out the front window to the lawn, to the road where the battle happened, and to the distance that lay ahead of them.

  “I’m ready. Try these on.” She was holding out a pair of long white underwear. He took them from her. “They look new.”

  “Never worn, if that makes you happy, Mr. I free ball it instead of wear boxers.”

  He smiled and then went into the bathroom to change.

  When he came back, he was nice and toasty down in his lower regions.

  She had found him a hat and gloves as well as a coat.

  He suited up as she suited up.

  “Tell me something,” the character replied.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you kill these vampires in the traditional way or do these guys require something special?”

  “Wooden stakes, garlic, and holy water work the best, but the one thing that is different is their skin. It toughens up once they feed, and that toughness lasts up until tonight. It really is just a snap of the fingers when they go from invincible to vulnerable and vice versa.”

  “How do you know so much?”

  “We caught one about a year ago, and we studied him from feeding cycle to feeding cycle. They’re all he’s by the way, not a female among them. Anyway, that’s how we discovered their weakness.” She looked both of them over when they were done. “We look good.”

  “I’m getting warm.”

  “Trust me. You will need it.” She went into the kitchen as the character stood by the door and waited. She came back with a backpack slung over her shoulder. “I packed this last night, food and supplies, for the journey. I put a little something extra in there for you as well, since I originally just packed for one.”

  “Thanks. Are we walking?”

  “It’s the only way. A car would signal our arrival, and they could smell a horse from miles away. Come to think of it, they could probably smell the car as well.”

 
; “Will we make it on time?”

  She looked at the clock. “Maybe, but we might have to pick up the pace.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Can you handle it?”

  “I was a runner once, I think.”

  “You are a strange little man, you know that. Let’s go.”

  She opened the door, and they stepped onto the porch, wooden boards creaking as they did. A blast of cold air hit them both right in the face.

  “The wind is blowing away from the castle. Let’s hope it stays that way,” she replied, as she he locked the door.

  They walked down to the road and turned towards the castle, wind in their face, coloring their cheeks and noses red, watering their eyes. They pushed on to their destination with the sun’s rays barely hanging on, losing their fight-gradually-with the night.

  *

  Twelve people were at the rendezvous point when Becky and the character arrived, somewhere around 4:15 P.M. that afternoon. Most of the people there where at the fight the previous night, but the character noticed a few new faces spread throughout the crowd. They were all armed with various kinds of weapons, cross bows, wooden stakes, and bow and arrows seemed to be the most popular weapons of choice.

  This rendezvous point was at the spot where the road suddenly ended, not in jagged pieces of asphalt and debris, but a perfect straight line. This line ran across the road like someone had taken skillful hands and cut it with a blade. On one side there was the asphalt and the doubles lanes, on the other side, tall thick green grass. This grass covered a large 60 acre field.

  A three-story castle sat in the center of this field, if you could call it a castle. It looked more like a long cylindrical tower or a glorified silo, round and circular all the way to the top with thick white granite walls. It had no windows, and only one way in and one way out – two intimidating double doors, which were brown, thick pieces of wood. They had long thick silver spikes sticking out of them, five spikes on one door, five on the other, running from the top to the bottom in a perfect straight line.

  The character took a moment to look the castle up and down, somehow come to terms with it in his mind. It really wasn’t what he had been picturing. He thought it would be a sprawling gothic looking estate, with gargoyles and blacked out windows that covered acres upon acres of land, not just one white tower. It was a bit of a let down.

  There were four werewolves left, and a couple of them showed clear signs of battle scars. When the fight on the road ended last night there were six, two had fallen in battle somewhere beyond that. These beasts guarded the door, lazily lounging in front of it, daring anyone to approach. They didn’t have their eyes turned on. With them off they looked a lot like a car’s headlights in the day time, the cars that don’t have daytime running lights. The character figured there must be a switch, like a light, that was turned on when it got dark.

  He noticed something else, something he was unsure of because the light was growing so thin. This thing he was unsure of was splayed out high in the air, dangling just inches below the place where the castle ended in a sharp spike.

  “Your eyes aren’t deceiving you,” the man replied.

  The character turned to face the guy, who was big and stocky. “What?”

  “The top of the point, you see it, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s a sacrifice to their God.”

  “A what?”

  “Right at dawn, just before the sun comes up, and just before a feeding cycle, the leader of the vampires climbs up their and shoves some poor stiff down on that spike, letting him or her bleed out. So, when they wake, they smell the blood, and it gets them all fired up to feed. Just consider it a human dinner bell,” the man replied, smiling as he walked away.

  The character looked up at the dangling figure, and did his eyes deceive him or was that guy still moving, writhing in pain. The character turned away before he puked.

  “All right guys. We need to do this fast if we are going to do it.” Becky looked up at the sky as the night ate away the day. It wouldn’t be long before night had its feast, and it devoured every bit of light. The night in this world was like that now, very hungry. It rushed in and rushed in quick. It took no remorse. “We know their layer is deep under ground, that the tower is just a front, a façade. There’s nothing in it.”

  She paused and looked at one of the guys, as the group gathered around her, the character included. “Are you ready?” She asked.

  The guy produced a small package and showed it to her.

  “What’s he going to do?” The character asked, as he looked across the field at the double doors, trying to ignore that guy hanging on the spike.

  “Pick the lock,” Becky replied.

  “It’s that easy?”

  “Look, these guys are super smart when it comes to feeding and plotting and scheming and all that stuff they have to do in order to eat. What they don’t have is much sense when it comes to home protection. All that is holding that door closed is a common house lock. If we had a key, we could walk right in.”

  “Let me guess. A little gift knowledge from the one you caught.”

  “It wasn’t so much a gift, but he told us what we needed to know, with the right persuasion, of course.”

  “Of course,” the character replied, letting the conversation stop there. This was an ugly time and ugly times sometimes called for ugly measures. It was best not to know what kind of persuasion they had administered to the vampire, but he knew it wasn’t pleasant.

  Becky turned back to the group. “We know there is a small worn-out path that leads up to the stables this way.” She pointed to her right and then looked at the two guys assigned to this path. “You guys know what to do. Secure it and the stables. The rest of us will move out across the grass, making sure the key master is safe.”

  They all nodded their heads.

  “Let’s go then,” Becky replied, moving forward into the grass.

  The two men (young, big and burly, easily in their twenties) assigned to the path and stables, quickly ran off, one with a cross bow, the other holding a sack full of wooden stakes. The character could hear the horses in the stable as they whinnied and whined. He wasn’t sure if they sensed the strangers or if they were just doing what horses normally do.

  The rest of the group, 10 of them (6 men, 4 women), fanned out across the grass, and began to walk towards the tower. The key master was in the middle, rummaging through his bag. He was a tall guy, 6’ 4” in height, with dark hair, wearing a Boston Red Sox sweatshirt. He had on jeans and tennis shoes, and he wore black glasses over his eyes that held thick corrective lenses inside their oval frames.

  Becky stopped them about halfway; they hunkered down, and waited for the next part of the plan to take place. She pointed at one man and gave him the sign to go. This was a tall guy with skinny features and a square jaw. He looked like a marathon runner, and he was dressed like one as well, with running shoes on his feet, wick away clothing covering everything else.

  “He’ll be slaughtered,” the character replied.

  “Nope, trust me on this one,” Becky replied, confident.

  The man crouched down and got as close as he could to the beasts, making sure he was in smelling distance. When he was sure he was there, he leaped up, and took off running. The beasts, of course, took off after him – every one of them like big dumb dogs chasing a car.

  When the beasts took off, the archer from the previous night, the one who saved the character’s life, stood up. His arrows flew true, and it only took four of them, one for each beast. They found their mark and killed the werewolves instantly. These beasts were now extinct.

  The marathon man stopped running and looked back at the carcasses on the ground. He caught his breath and thanked the Lord above that he still had life in his lungs.

  The character looked from the marathon man to Becky. “Why didn’t you shoot them at the door? That would have been easier than doing all this and it wouldn�
�t have put someone’s life in danger.”

  “If you can believe it, they are easier to kill when they are moving.” Becky turned away from the character, and pointed to the key master who took off at a steady run. The rest of them followed behind, mindful of the tower, all eyes scanning for anything that didn’t seem right. Nothing moved or came after them.

  They reached the door and gathered around the key master as he worked to break the lock.

  Moments passed.

  The light faded.

  “Got it,” The key master said, as the lock clicked, and he swung one of the doors inward, which creaked slightly, as it made its way to a stop gently against the wall.

  The first thing to greet them was the smell. Dirt, decay, and blood mingled and danced together as it escaped into the fresh air.

  Becky shined a light around the room so everyone could see. The room was bare, no furniture, nothing on the walls, a dirt floor, and endless space above. There was also a door in the floor, which was open, leaning against the wall. That was it.

  The light also revealed one other thing, something horrific, something none of them were prepared to see. It was a body, the old woman from the night before, Silas’ widow.

  Becky went over to check on her. She was, of course, dead, a shredded mess of human flesh and bone. Being drug down a paved road behind a horse can do that to a person. Becky hit her knee. “The bastards must have dragged her all night!” She pointed to two guys in the group. “Take her outside. We will bury her on the way home.”

  The two men did as they were asked. When they carried her body past the character, he could see the road damage on her, the imprint the hand from the whip had left around her neck, and one other thing. Her hands were bound with a thick rubbery rope. This rope had a hook attached to it. He turned away before he puked.

  Becky walked over to the door in the floor, and the group followed her. She stopped when she got to the edge, and shined the light down inside. A set of brown wooden stairs ran down into the gloom and disappeared. The smell from before, of dirt, decay, and blood was flowing from here. That smell seemed to be calling this confined darkened space home. Becky put one foot on the first stair and descended, the others followed after her.