Vampire Nation

by Fisher, Sean Thomas

  Huck released the pressure in his trigger finger, squinting at something glowing blue in the sheriff’s hand. An electric badge of some kind that gave off a hollow sounding hum that vibrated Huck’s entire body.

  “Enforcer!” Talon cried out, squinting against the light and leaving Ambrose to fend for himself. Jumping in behind the wheel of an SUV, the tires spun through the snow, fishtailing across what may or may not be a road.

  Using a hand to shield his eyes from the blue glow, Ambrose backpedaled toward the nearest Cadillac, pulling a trail of intestines through the snow. “Now hang on a minute, Sheriff,” he panted, hair hanging in his face. “We will leave the area immediately.” His head snapped around when the big bald guy inside the Caddie got spooked and peeled out of the lot.

  “There goes your ride, motherfucker,” DeSean laughed, pushing to his feet.

  Huck rose from behind the sheriff’s truck and watched the other vehicles leave in a hurry, gravity hanging from his jaw.

  “I demand a tribunal,” Ambrose cried, recoiling from the blue badge like it was a hot July sun.

  Guardedly, Huck stepped out from the Bronco and looked down at the man’s guts gathering in the snow. It was amazing he was still on his feet and if this was possible…

  “No parley,” Taylor responded, tapping the blue badge and making it go dark. Stopping in front of Ambrose, he glared down at him. “How many are there? Tell me the truth and I’ll make this quick.”

  Running a bloody hand through his hair to keep it in place, Ambrose stopped to catch his breath. “Just what you saw here,” he panted.

  “What about the ones with the humans at the car wash?”

  He stared hard at the sheriff, indecision flickering in his slippery eyes. Sighing, a bloody bubble pushed from his left nostril. “Three more.”

  “Are the humans still at the car wash?”

  “Yes, they’re still there.”

  “What about Jenny?” Huck asked, drawing Ambrose’s perplexed gaze. “Teenage girl with blond pigtails.”

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Jenny is quite fine, I can assure you, Mr. Law.”

  “She better be!”

  Taylor jammed his gun into its holster and examined Ambrose in the gray light.

  “I swear it. Look, Sheriff, I have been in good standing with The Council for eight decades. Please contact Lord Cotton Willoughby at…”

  “That’s not how this works and you know it.”

  Ambrose steadied his wobbly legs against the fear rising in his chest. He pulled a cellphone out and Taylor smacked it from his hand in a blurry clap, sending it sailing out of sight. “You will call my Lord at once! He will grant me a tribunal.”

  “How many in total, Ambrose? How many in this country alone?”

  Exhaling a defeated breath, he let his guts slip from his bloodstained hands to the ground. “Too many.”

  The sheriff rested a hand on the butt of his gun and expectantly drummed his fingers against the leather holster.

  Indignantly, Ambrose straightened his suit coat and cleared his throat. “We all have our jobs to perform, Sheriff,” he said, lifting his chin. “And soon, yours shall be quite different.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, you and yours have failed at your tasks and things are getting – how should I say? – messy.”

  Taylor’s eyebrows slanted. “Population wise?”

  Ambrose hung his bloodstained hands from his vest lapels. “The youth of our nation grow restless. They don’t sleep and their days never end. You won’t be able to write these stories off to human trafficking rings and suicides much longer. Globally, there are too many holes to plug. Too many cameras watching too many people go missing.”

  Blowing out a beleaguered breath, Taylor removed his hat and finger-combed his hair. “You got greedy.”

  Ambrose shrugged and more of his innards slipped out. “The American way of life is primarily about wealth and status, Sheriff. Do not blame me for simply indulging the citizens of this country. I provide a service and that service requires a fee.”

  “Citizens? Is that what you call them?”

  “And how would you label them?”

  “Scum.” The sheriff slapped the hat back down and held a palm out to his deputy. Andrews passed him the Flintlock. Cocking the ornate hammer back with a heavy click, Taylor pointed it at Ambrose’s face. “The Council thanks you for your service. God is great; to hell with the…”

  “Wait!”

  Eyebrows dipping, Taylor turned to DeSean.

  “He’s mine.” The big man stepped around his daughter and held a hand out.

  The sheriff looked down at his open palm and hesitated before extending the Flintlock.

  “Hang on, you might want this instead,” Andrews said, slapping the meat tenderizer in the big man’s open hand.

  DeSean looked up from the bloody hammer, the touch of a grin brushing his lips. “Thanks, brother.”

  “Oh, come on, Sheriff,” Ambrose cried, throwing his hands out and shaking loose more entrails. “You can at least be humane about it.”

  “Like you were when you took those people from their families,” Taylor replied, stepping out of DeSean’s way. “That ship has sailed, old-timer.”

  Snorting an invisible breath, DeSean held the tenderizer up in the air and turned it, marveling at its size and weight. “I’ve never felt so alive,” he whispered, looking down at Ambrose and filling his lungs with a cavernous breath. “Your fear makes your blood smell sweeter than everyone else. Isn’t that strange?”

  “I’ll show you strange!” Bony black wings tore through the back of Ambrose’s suit coat, violently flapping and lifting him off the ground. DeSean planted a boot on the pile of guts in the snow, tethering him in place like a kite. Hissing, Ambrose pulled out the switchblade and severed the gory trail, jerking upward. Leaping high into the air, DeSean grabbed an ankle before Ambrose could fly away. Eyes bulging, his skeletal wings flapped harder but DeSean was too heavy and slammed him back to the ground. Ambrose’s left wing made a horrible snapping sound and fluttered irregularly in the snow, spinning him in a circle. The big man stared down at him with a new darkness coiling in his eyes, no breath visible on his lips. “This is for my daughter,” he said, bringing the tenderizer down onto Ambrose’s upturned face. The fat man’s head exploded like a cantaloupe, spraying the group with a bloody mess. Chest heaving, DeSean stood tall over Ambrose’s crumpled body. “That was too easy.”

  “Where’s Mommy, Daddy?”

  The sparkle in his eyes faded and the hammer grew heavy. Dropping it into the snow, he knelt before Cassandra and swept her up in his arms, sending more ice into his beard. “Mommy is fine, sweetie. We’re together now and that’s all that matters.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Huck shouted, brushing pieces of skull from his hair. “What the hell is going on around here?”

  “No doubt!” Andrews took the Flintlock back from his boss and held onto it like this wasn’t over yet. “I never thought I’d actually use this thing!”

  Huck looked up at Taylor. “Why did they call you enforcer? Why did they run like that?”

  “I’ll explain later,” Taylor replied, crossing the lot.

  “You always say that!”

  “Right now, we’ve got to get to that carwash and help those people, Huck.” He grabbed another box of ammo from the back of the bullet riddled Bronco. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  Nina traded a tentative look with Huck, holding Johnny in front of her. “We?”

  “We can’t split up now,” Taylor told her, pulling some keys from his slacks and making the Subaru Outback flash. “They could come back,” he said, popping the door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

  Her eyes moved from Greeve’s ashes to the multiple tire tracks in the snow. “Yeah, good idea,” she said, helping Johnny inside the empty hatchback.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A God-Fearing Man

  Outside of a trace a
mount of blood splatter where the nervous group tried overthrowing their captors, the car wash was empty. Everyone was gone, including the discarded water bottles and Band-Aid wrappers. Even the power. It was like nothing ever happened. Ambrose lied like the fiend he was and they were too late. The tire tracks outside were already filled with snow and there was no way of knowing which way they went. The pretty blond in athleisure wear slashed through Huck’s mind, sending a sharp wincing pain through him. The brave skinny guy and young frightened Jenny, all gone without a trace.

  Huck lowered the compact handgun. “Now what?” he said, running a flashlight beam over some bullet holes in the wall.

  “Now, this is where we part ways.”

  Frowning, he turned to find himself staring down the sheriff’s long revolver. Alarm ripped through his body like a wildfire, devouring the cold in his toes. “What the hell is this, Taylor?”

  “This is me cleaning up some asshole’s mess. It’s nothing personal.”

  Andrews jaw came unhinged. “You’re going to shoot us?”

  “I’m sorry, Scott. If it were up to me, things would be different. I promise you that.”

  “Damn! And here I thought you were a bad cop before,” DeSean cried, pulling his daughter against him.

  Taylor jerked the weapon to him. “Like I said, it’s nothing personal; this is strictly business.”

  “Strictly business?” DeSean stared down the Colt’s gun barrel, knowing exactly what was waiting for him inside. “Look, Bob, you can do the right thing here and just let us go, man.”

  “We won’t tell anyone,” Johnny added, quietly gripping the silver cross hiding in a coat pocket. “I promise.”

  Taylor barely shook his head, burdened by the mere effort. “I wish I could, I really do, but I took an oath and there’s no going back.” He swallowed thickly. “If I let you go, they’ll send someone else to clean.”

  “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Huck gestured with the flashlight. “You’re infected.”

  Meeting his tight gaze, Taylor wiped sweat from his brow, no breath uncurling from his lips.

  “That’s why they ran when they saw your blue badge, isn’t it?” Nina stepped closer, subtly pulling the pie knife from her belt. “Who do you really work for?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “That’s why you let that old bitch bite into my brother.” DeSean pinched his gaze into oily slits. “Isn’t it, Bob?”

  “Not important.”

  “Not important?” Shifting his weight from one wet Puma to the other, Huck’s face fell with a stirring revelation. “You’re the one who kept unlocking the front door in the diner,” he whispered, drawing everyone’s eyes. “Why?”

  “It’s important to keep everybody together – the good guys and the bad guys. Makes my job a lot easier.”

  “And which ones are we, Bobby?”

  The sheriff yanked the gun around to Andrews and shrugged weakly. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Holy shit,” the deputy whispered, clutching the Flintlock in a coat pocket. “You mean to tell me I’ve been riding around with a shit-sucking vampire for the last four years?”

  “Three,” Taylor corrected, jerking the gun to DeSean when he moved.

  Andrews shook his head in disgust. “Well, you wait till Franklin finds out, Bobby!”

  “Scott, wait!” Taylor sighed tiredly and lowered his voice. “You don’t understand. If the U.S. government finds out, they will hunt us down one by one.”

  Huck threw his hands out. “So? What’s wrong with that?”

  “The Vampire Nation will fight back is what’s wrong with that. The streets will fill with blood.” Sheriff Taylor glanced at Nina and Johnny. “Your blood.”

  “Sheriff, come on, man, you’re a cop first and foremost. To protect and serve, remember? You’re still in there; I know you are.”

  “I used to be a cop, but when that guy bit me that night with Franklin, I became something else. Something bigger.”

  “You heard Ambrose,” Huck said, inching closer. “It’s too late! The dam is going to break.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  He swept the flashlight beam to the bullet holes in the wall. “Look at the mess here tonight and this is just one town. One night!”

  “Bob,” the deputy said in a cool voice, barely turning his body. “We’ve known each other for four years.”

  “You think I like being like this?” Taylor swung the gun around to him. “I fucking hate it! I’m a God-fearing man and fuck these devils for what they did to me.”

  “Then help us stop them! Jesus Christ, they’re monsters!”

  Using a shoulder to wipe away a tear, the sheriff composed himself. “Huck, if I don’t live up to my responsibilities, my oath, The Council will send someone for me next. That’s the rule. That’s the code!”

  “You leave us alone!” Cassandra said, hugging her father’s leg.

  DeSean pushed her behind him, the meat tenderizer clutched in his hand. “How many are like us, Bob? How many…infected?”

  “Domestically?” Taylor’s mustache went down at the corners. “One point-six-million, give or take.” He spread his snowy cowboy boots, his long shadow appearing to stand on stilts. “Last year at this time, there were roughly three hundred and thirty thousand. You do the math.”

  DeSean’s blurry-eyed gaze fell to his daughter and a forlorn breath escaped him, lowering his chest. Huck could tell the big man despised the thought of his family adding to that statistic and Huck wondered how long until he and RaeAnn…

  “How’d you do that back there?” The sheriff jerked his chin at DeSean. “How’d you disobey Ambrose like that? He’s probably over a hundred years old and you’re a new turn. New turns don’t think!”

  He grunted his amusement. “Don’t you know, Bob? The Force only works on the weak-minded.”

  Holding his steady gaze, Taylor’s watery eyes dropped to Cassandra. “At least you’re together now,” he whispered, pulling the hammer back with a thumb.

  Huck’s pulse beat faster in his neck because he saw RaeAnn in Cassandra’s frightened eyes. They were close to the same age and this wasn’t going down on his watch.

  The tenderizer slipped from DeSean’s fingers to the ground, bouncing off the cold concrete floor and landing against the chain-driven rail. Kneeling, he stared into his daughter’s dark eyes and rubbed the arms of her coat. “I’m so glad I found you, baby girl. So glad I got to hug you one more time.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and breathed her in, lifting his chest. “I’ll never let you go again.” Throwing his massive arms around her, he pulled her into a loving embrace.

  “I’m scared, Daddy.”

  “Don’t be, sweet potato pie. It’s better this way.” Looking over his shoulder, he gave the sheriff a shallow nod.

  Forehead glistening with sweat, a teardrop slid over Taylor’s cheek, collecting in his mustache. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, gun trembling in his outstretched hand.

  “No!” Huck yanked the Beretta up and fired three-rounds into Taylor’s chest.

  The tall man barely moved, absorbing the hot slugs like a volley of tennis balls. He yanked the revolver to Huck. “Then you go first, Mr. Law.” Setting his jaw against the turmoil churning in his eyes, he squeezed on the trigger.

  “Bobby!” a voice rang out.

  Taylor snapped his head around, keeping the massive Colt trained on Huck.

  Craning his neck to see around the sheriff, Deputy Andrews’ face fell. “Franklin?”

  Entering through the same exit Huck and the others escaped through before, Franklin pulled back the fur-lined hood on a sheriff’s department parka and, at first, Huck thought the gray-haired man had a gun pointed at Taylor.

  Johnny rushed forward with the cross out, using the distraction like one of those things back at the diner, a battle cry pouring from his mouth, bouncing off the cold white walls. Taylor turned just in time to see him plant the cross in his stomach. His e
yelids flipped back in his head and he screamed bloody murder. Backhanding the kid across the face, Johnny went flying sideways, the cross clattering along the floor.

  Johnny rolled to his feet, a victorious gleam in his eyes. “Bet it burns, doesn’t it?”

  “No, it’s freezing!” Taylor looked up from a freezer burn mark in the shape of a cross on his shirt and jerked the gun to Johnny. “You little shit!”

  Andrews yanked the Flintlock out and pointed it at the sheriff.

  “Wait, Scott,” Franklin yelled, thrusting a bony hand out. “We need him!”

  “For what?” the deputy growled, glaring at Taylor through glassy eyes.

  “Listen to me…” Franklin came around to face the sheriff, the flashlight darkening the lines in his face. “It’s over, son,” he panted, stepping over a chain-driven rail. “Put the gun down.”

  “What’re you doing here? I told you to stay put!”

  He extended a glowing cellphone. “The New York Times just posted something you need to see.”

  Taylor ignored the phone and turned back to the others, anger flaring in his coal-black eyes.

  “Something that’s got The Council on the run.” When Taylor didn’t take the phone, Franklin slipped it into a coat pocket. “A group of kids in Ft. Lauderdale were caught on video feeding in a mall parking lot two days ago.”

  “So?” Taylor moved the gun to DeSean when the big man stood up. “Everyone knows Floridians are crazy. Probably a bunch of meth heads.”

  “After they ripped the throats open on a family of four, they left…via the sky.”

  Face warping, Taylor slowly turned to Franklin. “In public? How is that possible? It goes against basic instinct!”

  The old-timer smiled thinly. “Fucking millennials, think they know everything.”

  Ignoring the Flintlock in Deputy Andrews’ hand, Taylor turned back to DeSean and aimed at the big man’s expansive chest.