Vampire Nation

by Fisher, Sean Thomas

  He filled his lungs and mentally rehearsed what he was going to do when they rolled closer. If he could see it, it could come to pass – like the distraction that allowed them to escape the car wash. He stared at the vehicle and imagined taking the driver out first before turning the gun on… Flashing red and blue lights suddenly painted the snow and the SUV took a casual left, disappearing into the storm as an old Ford Bronco with a Sheriff’s Department star on the side approached from the opposite direction. Releasing a pent-up breath, Huck lowered the weapon and turned on the safety. Tucking it into the small of his back, he barely felt the icy metal kiss his skin.

  Chapter Five

  Bugout Bag

  A pretty waitress dropped off two slices of pie, humming softly with Bon Jovi’s Bells Will Be Ringing streaming from a jukebox tucked in the corner. Strings of bright lights adorned a nearby Christmas tree, competing against the Wurlitzer’s colorful bubble tubes.

  Using a finger to tip a black cowboy hat back, the sheriff smiled up at her. “Thank you, Paula.”

  “Sure thing, Sheriff,” she replied, giving him a warm smile that got under Huck’s skin. Every time she came over, they had to stop their story and wait for her to go back behind the L-shaped counter where Ramona was busy pounding coffee and cigarettes while staring vacantly at a fuzzy rerun of Bewitched. Paula stuck a pen in the red bun fixed atop her head and flashed Huck a tight smile, her cherry-colored lipstick contrasting harshly with her creamy skin. “And don’t you worry about Bud; he’s got insurance. They’re just a bunch of Christmas trees and an old pickup that can be replaced. We’re just glad everyone is okay.”

  Huck didn’t respond. He could care less about the trees or the pickup.

  “That old pickup was a 1960 GMC 1500 Wideside in perfect working order!”

  Paula frowned at the old cook pouring himself a cup of coffee behind the counter. “It was an accident, Bud, and you have insurance.”

  Jamming the carafe back on a burner, the cook wrinkled a bulbous nose compliments of a lifetime of heavy drinking. “I told you we should’ve closed early tonight.”

  “Yep, ya sure did,” she sang back, returning an overly friendly smile to the booth. “Get y’all anything else?”

  Sheriff Taylor glanced at the deputy sitting next to him. “I think we’re all set,” he replied, pulling a slice of French silk closer.

  “Well, holler if ya need anything,” she smiled, pivoting on her running shoes and going behind the counter to refill Ramona’s mug.

  Huck traded a worrisome look with Nina next to him in the booth. He didn’t trust any of these people, including the sheriff and his young deputy, because that’s how he would write it into a book. God only knew who was in on this human trafficking ring. Their abductors probably had deep pockets with a long list of friends and this diner wasn’t far from the car wash.

  “Okay, so you escaped the car wash after the distraction and made it to Highway 59.” Taylor cut into the pie and speared the tip. “Where you then flagged down Ms. Dunn just before your abductors caught up with you.” He gestured with the fork. “Correct?”

  Nina nodded rapidly, squeezing Huck’s leg under the table to stop it from bouncing. “Then they went back and got a car.”

  “The SUV that turned off when we got here,” he confirmed, sticking the fork in his mouth and pulling it out clean – like Ambrose and that silver toothpick.

  “Yes,” Huck snapped, struggling for patience.

  “Jesus Christ.” Deputy Andrews pushed a plate of pecan pie off to the side. “How can you eat at a time like this, Bob? This is messed up.”

  The sheriff cut into the pie again. “I’ve been out in a snowstorm all night and I’m hungry, that’s how,” he replied, devouring another bite.

  The deputy stared out the window. “Let’s follow their tracks before the snow covers them up!”

  Huck and Nina nodded their approval of his earnest enthusiasm.

  “Just relax, Scott,” Taylor said, clearing a thick mustache with a napkin. “Way it’s coming down out there, we’ll be lucky if we don’t end up in a ditch.” He brought another bite into his mouth. “You know I’ve got a low blood sugar count.”

  Andrews pulled a sheriff’s department ballcap down tight over an unruly head of wavy blond hair. “We can’t just sit here.”

  Chewing, Taylor shrugged his indifference. “You think Franklin is going to come pull us out of a ditch?”

  Andrews sighed and drummed his fingers against the table. “I knew something like this was happening around here; I could feel it.”

  Tilting his head to one side, Huck sharpened his gaze. “What do you mean?”

  The glass front doors opened, letting in the cold and snow. Adrenaline spiking, Huck turned to see an elderly couple spill inside and stomp the snow from their boots. Hanging their coats on a rack by the door, they slid into the booth behind the sheriff and shook off the cold, fanning Huck’s irritation. The fact that the diner was completely empty and they just had to sit right next to them made his blood boil.

  “Boy! It’s really coming down out there,” the balding man exclaimed, twisting around in the booth to flash them a grandfatherly smile.

  “Whew!” The woman pulled at a headscarf, unwrapping an angry cloud of hair. “Never thought I’d be so happy to see a diner in all my years. Thank the good Lord you’re open!”

  “Twenty-four seven,” Paula told her, pulling an order pad from the apron tied around a powder blue dress. “Can I start ya off with some coffee or tea?”

  Huck returned his attention to Sheriff Bob Taylor. “So, what happens now?”

  Taylor cut into the pie and stabbed it with the fork. “Tell me more about these…blood tests.”

  “We’ve been over this.”

  “Let’s go over it again,” he told him, inhaling the fork.

  Groaning, Huck cradled a warm mug in both hands. “The main guy, Ambrose, tasted our blood,” he repeated. “Then they drew it with a syringe and, apparently, had it tested.”

  Chewing with his mouth shut, Taylor frowned his confusion. “Why would they do that?”

  “Because they’re vampires.”

  Everyone, including the older couple, turned to find Johnny standing at the table. Huck hadn’t noticed his return from the restroom and the kid was so pale his freckles looked like dirt on his cheeks. “Johnny listen,” he said, “we’re all cold and in shock and…”

  “Why else would he taste everyone’s blood?” Johnny interrupted, swimming in Huck’s black leather jacket. “You saw how fast they moved when that fight broke out. That wasn’t normal.”

  Swallowing thickly, the sheriff held up a hand to stop him from going any farther. “What exactly did this Ambrose character say to you, Johnny?”

  He wrapped the coat tighter around him, eyes falling to the steam rising from Huck’s coffee. “He tasted my blood and then told his two bodyguards to get a sample.”

  “Vampires,” Deputy Andrews scoffed, shaking his head in consternation. “I fucking knew it!”

  “Relax, Scott. We don’t know anything yet and watch your tongue in front of the ladies.”

  “Sheriff, we’ve been over this already,” Nina whispered, leaning across the table. “Those people back at that car wash need your help before they’re moved somewhere else. And now that we’re free and know exactly where they are, they will move them.”

  “She’s right.” Andrews turned in the booth, tan slacks squeaking against the red vinyl. “Let’s go check it out, Bobby. Come on!”

  Taylor stuck more pie into his mouth and chewed it over, eyes drawing to the snowflakes streaking through the orange parking lot lights at a sharp angle. “In this mess? Without backup?” His inky eyes jerked to Huck and narrowed. “How many did you say there were again?”

  “Excuse me, Sheriff,” the older woman interrupted, stepping on Huck’s last nerve.

  Taylor turned a polite smile to her. “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “Is there a hotel nearby?
I think we’ve gone about as far as we’re going to tonight.”

  He swallowed and made smacking sounds while rounding up a reply. “The Blue Lark Inn is three miles toward town. You can’t miss it.”

  “Perfect,” she said, adjusting a red sweater with a white deer standing in the middle. “I can barely keep my eyes open any longer.”

  “Thank goodness for all-wheel-drive,” her companion chuckled, resting an elbow on the seat between them. “We’re trying to make it to see the grandkids for Christmas and we’ll be lucky to get out of this parking lot.”

  “Earl doesn’t see well at night and we don’t want to end up like the car we passed a few miles back.”

  “No, Ma’am, you sure don’t,” Taylor agreed, enjoying more pie.

  The woman’s penciled-in eyebrows rose into her powdery forehead. “They looked good and stuck.”

  “They were,” Andrews unenthusiastically replied, drumming his fingers against the table.

  “Helen made me pull over to give them a ride but no one was there.” Earl traded a tight smile with his wife. “Hope they’re okay.”

  “They caught a ride with a wrecker back to town,” Taylor explained, washing the pie down with some coffee.

  “Just a terrible night,” Helen declared, sitting back when Paula dropped off some steaming mugs of coffee and slices of cherry pie. “Thank you, dear.”

  “You’re sure welcome,” she said, planting hands on her slender hips. “Y’all need anything else?”

  “Just a glass of water, please.” Helen palmed the table. “Earl needs to take his heart medication.”

  “You got it.”

  “Well, thank you for the intel, Sheriff,” Earl said, unrolling his silverware. “Might just have to wait this one out a bit.”

  “Just might.” Taylor removed his hat and ran a sheen of perspiration through a mop of midnight hair. “So,” he said, slapping the hat back down, “how many armed men were there again?”

  Huck rubbed his eyes until he saw stars. “I don’t know, five or six.”

  “Maybe more,” Nina added, pulling hair around her neck to ward off the cold seeping through the glass. “I heard voices in the lobby but I’m not sure who was in there.”

  “We’re going to need to call in the state patrol, but…” The sheriff turned to face his grim reflection, coffee mug hanging in a hand. “I doubt their Dodge Chargers will get far in this stuff.”

  His radio pulsed, making Andrews flinch. “Sheriff?” a man’s voice cut through.

  Taylor pressed the handset on his shoulder. “Yeah, Franklin.”

  “You still at Bud’s?”

  “Ten-four. What’d you find on Johnny Wade Goff?”

  Static flashed. “Twelve-year-old male with shaggy brown hair and freckles. Last seen delivering newspapers in Des Moines, Iowa this past Sunday morning. Wearing a green down coat, black Adidas t-shirt, and jeans. Subsequently reported a 207 – no witnesses and the only lead is a torn green coat found at the scene. Over.”

  Cupping her mug to thaw out her hands, Nina creased her brow. “207?”

  “Kidnapping,” Andrews clarified, studying Johnny as if trying to discern the meaning of his expression.

  “See?” Johnny threw his hands out. “Why would I make up something like that? I make things up to get an extra cupcake or early allowance, not being kidnapped.”

  Taylor cleared his mustache with a napkin. “What happened to your coat?”

  “I twisted out of it when they grabbed me.”

  “How many grabbed you?”

  “Two.”

  “Both male?”

  Johnny nodded.

  “Are they at the car wash now?”

  He shrugged. “I never saw them again.”

  Taylor’s eyes jerked to Nina and he clicked the handset. “How about a Nina Saldana?”

  Static blinked and cleared. “Twenty-five-year-old female, Hispanic,” Franklin reported, stopping to clear his throat. “Five-six with long, dark hair. One hundred thirty-five pounds. Last seen on a security camera getting into an Uber black sedan in Omaha, Nebraska. Reported missing a week ago tomorrow.”

  Nina’s jaw dropped. “A week ago?”

  Taylor raised his eyebrows in wonder. “You don’t know how long you’ve been missing?”

  “I-I told you, the windows and doors were covered with plywood. We couldn’t tell if it was day or night.”

  “They took our phones and drugged our food.” Johnny leaned against the end of the table, rocking their mugs. “Or maybe our water.”

  “We slept a lot,” Nina said, pursing her pretty red lips. “And I’m not a hundred and thirty-five pounds.”

  Taylor swapped a dubious look with his impatient deputy. “Drugged you with what?”

  “Who knows?” Huck said, knee bouncing under the table. “Chloroform or roofies or who fucking cares!”

  “Alright, Mr. Law, just take it easy. Getting angry isn’t going to help us sort this out any faster.” The sheriff clicked the handset on his shoulder. “And a Mr. Huck Law?”

  “Huck Law, thirty-two-year-old male from Boulder, Colorado. Six feet two, two hundred five pounds with auburn-colored hair and no missing reports filed as of yet.”

  Hanging his head, Huck exhaled into the steam rising from his mug. Had he really been so emotionally and physically detached since Chrissy’s accident, that his own sister and daughter wouldn’t notice his absence for nearly five days? Obviously, the answer was yes. Here’s the writing, here’s the wall. He checked out on RaeAnn when she needed him the most and there was nobody to blame but him. Not the drunk bitch who started this whole mess. Not his wife. And not his latest pathetic attempt at a novel.

  Him.

  “How long have you been gone again?”

  He shifted uneasily next to Nina in the booth, avoiding the sheriff’s probing eyes. “Since Tuesday morning.”

  “And no one has noticed you missing?”

  “I told you, I work from home. My wife is in a coma from a car accident last year and it’s not unusual for my sister, Tess, to take our daughter for a few days at a time, but…”

  Deputy Andrews bent an eyebrow at him. “But?”

  “I was supposed to be there for Christmas Eve dinner.”

  Taylor slowly nodded his understanding, stroking his mustache. “Much like this state, Colorado has a forty-eight-hour threshold before someone can be reported missing.” He speared the last bite of his pie. “They may not report you missing until tomorrow or Monday.”

  “I need to call them and make sure everyone is okay. Those guys have our addresses.”

  Taylor pumped a palm at him and touched his radio. Static flashed and Huck noticed Helen craning her neck to see around her husband, who was also staring at them over the booth. “Franklin,” Taylor started, “contact state patrol and let them know we have up to thirty possible 207s at the old car wash out on North Linn. We’re going to need immediate assistance as soon as humanely possible. Over.”

  Static flashed.

  “We should also contact Johnny’s parents and let them know he’s okay; they must be worried sick.” Nina looked at Huck. “I’m sure all our families are.”

  Taylor hit the mic again. “Franklin?” Letting up, static pulsed before silence took the line. His gaze tightened and roamed the empty diner, stopping on Ramona who was worriedly staring back through her glasses. “Franklin? Do you copy?”

  Andrews removed his ballcap and ran a hand through his golden locks. “Old bastard probably went back to sleep.”

  “Sheriff, you just heard it for yourself – Johnny and Nina have been reported missing!” Glancing at Helen, Huck lowered his voice. “You saw the bullet hole in the cab of Ramona’s semi.”

  He held up a hand, looking at him without surprise. “Listen, I believe you, okay? You don’t have to twist my arm.”

  Giving the sheriff a quick doubletake, Deputy Andrews pulled his hat back on. “You do?”

  “Yes, I do, and we’re going
to help those people just as soon as we can. In the meantime, you’re safe now and everything is going to be alright.” The sheriff turned to Paula, who was busy emptying Ramona’s ashtray. “Paula? Can you bring us the cordless, please?”

  “Sure thang, Sheriff,” she sang out, grabbing a phone from the wall.

  Taylor hit the mic on his shoulder again. “Franklin? Are you there?” Silence answered. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, exchanging a troubled look with his deputy.

  Andrews tried his cellphone again and exhaled a shrinking breath. “Signal always sucks out here, especially tonight.”

  Helen and Earl started laughing about something, fueling Huck’s exasperation. It sounded forced inside his head because there was nothing funny about any of this. The last thing he wanted to hear right now was the sound of laughter, and the fact that they just had to sit in the next booth over got under his skin.

  “Thank you, Paula.” Taylor took the phone from her and jerked his strong chin at Johnny. “What’s your home number, son?”

  Johnny told him and after a few seconds with the phone pressed to an ear, Taylor lowered it and examined the keypad. “This thing charged up, Paula?”

  “Should be,” she answered, grabbing a hot carafe of coffee from a burner. “I just used it to call Franklin; been on the charger all night.”

  He made Johnny repeat the number and tried again. Sighing, he knitted his brow. “Lines must be down.”

  “Okay, let me out.”

  The sheriff turned a perplexed look to Deputy Andrews. “Where’re you going?”

  “To get my bugout bag in the truck.”

  Taylor glanced at the fifth generation Ford Bronco parked at an awkward angle out front. “For what?”

  “For bugging out! Don’t you ever watch a movie? When the phone lines go down, shit’s about to hit the fan.”