Easy Street, Unpaved - A Vampire's Change of Fortune (Hugh- Vampire. Hunter. King.)

by Wills, Robert P.

  vi

  Hugh started awake in the now cold tub. Angry at himself, he looked at his watch. Another hour lost. Dawn was close and he was nowhere near ready to be going home. He stood and snatched a towel off a hook. Stepping out of the tub, he began to dry himself, an indistinct blur in front of the mirror. Still naked, he walked back into the main room of the efficiency apartment and surveyed the carnage. Hugh walked to the kitchen portion of the apartment and rifled through the drawers, finally finding a large kitchen knife. He returned to the bed and, still naked, plunged the knife a dozen times into Laura’s chest. Hugh had come to understand that it was only due to the extremely cold night that he underwent The Change as opposed to a more final Death. He estimated he lost about half of his blood, which under normal circumstances, would have been lethal. According to the medical practices of the time, no one should have survived such a loss of blood. However, it had since been learned that dropping a person’s body temperature could slow vital bodily functions to the point where death could be warded off- as evidenced by the invariable news reports of a child pulled from a freezing lake or pond after being under water for thirty or forty minutes and survive with no ill effects. Hugh had been kept alive until The Change kept him undead for what could possibly end up being millennia.

  Satisfied with his efforts to ensure Laura experienced Death instead of The Change, Hugh toweled off the newly acquired drops of blood from his body. Dropping the towel, he retrieved his clothes and moved to the couch. He was not worried about any forensic evidence he would leave behind- having never been arrested there were no records of him anywhere. And thanks to the implementation of social security numbers, President Roosevelt ensured he had not had a regular job since 1928. Petty and not-so petty crime kept him financially secure. Rich and gallant indeed.

  Fully dressed, Hugh surveyed the room. It was mostly the way he had left it- except for the bed. After a quick check of the bathroom, he reached for the doorknob just as it turned on its own. A loud banging followed close behind.

  “Open up!” Came an angry voice from the hallway. The doorknob rattled furiously.

  Hugh frowned, angry at himself; his daydream had kept him in the apartment longer than he should have stayed. Now he had a witness to deal with. More banging on the door threatened to jar it open. The situation was spiraling out of control. ‘Deal with this witness before they bring even more witnesses!’ His inner voice commanded him. Several hundred years of diligently learned survival skills took over.

  Hugh quietly unlocked the door and waited for another barrage of knocks. Just as they started, he yanked the door open and a man almost tumbled in as his fist missed the now open door. Hugh grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the room. Behind him, an older woman was peeking around her doorjamb at the commotion. Another witness that would have to be dealt with. Hugh slammed the door shut behind the man as he muscled him down the hallway.

  A roundhouse punch missed his head and slammed into the wall beside him. Hugh ducked under the man’s shoulder and delivered a flurry of quick punches into the man’s armpit. With a grunt, the man dropped to his knees as his Brachial Plexus nerve bundle was devastated. He looked up at Hugh in fury just in time to see the fist that slammed into his face. His neck snapped back and he saw bright spots as he sat back. “Who?” was all he managed to say before Hugh stepped over and behind him and grabbed him around the neck in a choke hold. The bright spots gave way to bluish ones as the blood stopped flowing to his brain. Quickly, the blue spots gave way to blackness as the man felt as if he were being drained out a funnel. He struggled in vain as he felt himself getting smaller and smaller until there was nothingness.

  Hugh released the limp man with disgust. He moved quickly to the door and relocked it. In a rage, he turned and grabbed the man by his arm and dragged him to the bed. With strength belying his size, he picked the man up and flung him on the bed. He examined the man to ensure he was dead- since he had not been bitten; it was to ensure he was not a possible witness, not a future compatriot. Or rival. He stopped for a moment to appraise the situation -as a grandfatherly fellow had once told him on the streets of Paris, ‘haste makes waste, Sonny’. After a moment, he turned and went to the kitchen. Once again he rummaged through the drawers and, once again, found what he was looking for.

  He returned to the bed and climbed onto it. Taking the marker he wrote in big letters

  CLEAN UP THIS NEIGHBORHOOD

  OR I DO IT FOR YOU!

  Shaking his head, he pocketed the marker and hopped off the bed. Not very gallant, but hopefully effective. He looked at his handiwork. Maybe misspelling ‘neighborhood’ would have added a nice touch, he thought. It was too late now. Once again, Hugh did a quick check of the room. When his eyes fell on the pimp, he paused. With a shrug he moved to the dead man and searched him.

  The effort gained him several hundred dollars from his front pocket- the first he checked. There was probably more to be found with a better search, but Hugh still had another issues to deal with and the sun was going to come up whether he was prepared or not. He had learned early on that sunlight was something else he had to avoid- it had taken all of fifty years for the last of the scars from an unavoidable sprint through a midday sun in Arizona to go away. In small doses, he could tolerate sunlight – better in the evening than in the morning for some reason, and best on cloudy days. Hugh had spent nearly one hundred years in the limited sunlight of the Yukon from well before the gold rush until it started to die down. At that point, the well-established towns had full time law enforcement and his regular stream of killings began to draw attention.

  Once again, Hugh moved to the door. As his hand neared the doorknob, he paused. Nothing happened, he unlatched it and turned the knob. Opening the door, he peered into the hallway- it was empty. Apparently the residents were used to commotions coming from this particular apartment. Nevertheless, Hugh had an eye witness that needed to be gone. He stepped into the hallway as he checked his newly acquired watch. It was 4:45 AM; since Spring was neigh, time was short.

  Frowning, he exited the apartment, pulled the door shut behind him and walked to the door where the offending woman lived. Hugh bent down and looked through the peephole. It was completely dark behind it. He considered the dark peephole. The old woman was probably asleep and might not even remember any details in the morning- much less take the time to call the police about the incident. When the authorities invariably knocked on her door to see if she saw anything, it would probably be once the smell of the two rotting bodies had made someone make a phone call. At that point, any details in the woman’s head would be fairly useless. It was not the thought of killing an elderly woman that gave Hugh pause; it was almost 5AM and there wasn’t time to deal with her. Even if she were 85, he had killed older people. Just as he was about to stand and walk away, the peephole lit up. With a furious kick, he forced the door open, knocking the old lady to the ground. Quickly, he closed the door behind him.

  vii

  The old woman was sprawled out on the floor of her mirror-image hallway of the now dead Laura. “Up early, are we?” he growled.

  “You best get out of my house. I’ve already called the cops”, the woman bluffed as she moved to a sitting position. “I saw you take that man into Laura’s apartment and I’m sure he’s not coming out.”

  Hugh just looked at the woman as she moved to a crouching then a standing position. She was a full head shorter than him, bent over with age. “So what are you going to do? Kill an old woman too? What kind of man are you?”

  Hugh looked at his watch. It was now ten minutes until five. “Listen lady” he began.

  She moved to face him. They were practically chest to chest. “No, you listen”, she cut him off, “I’ve lived in this city my whole life and I’ve seen thugs like you come and go. They are all gone and I’m still here!” She waved a bony finger in Hugh’s face, “So get out of my house.”

  Not being invited in had made his presence in the house u
ncomfortable, and being ordered out more so. It was another of the idiosyncrasies of his condition that he could not fathom. Fortunately, breaking into a house with the owner unaware - neither invited nor uninvited - seemed to only marginally affect him. Without realizing it, he took a step back.

  “That’s what I thought, just some thug who’s never had anyone stand up to them. What do you say to that?” she said as she poked him in the chest.

  “Over four hundred years”, said Hugh flatly as he looked at his watch. It was now five minutes until five. The woman just stared at him. “Fifty-two weeks in a year”, he continued, “About two or three people a week.”

  The woman poked him in the chest again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That you’ll just be another one of the over sixty thousand people I’ve killed. An entire city’s worth of people dead because of me.”

  Now it was the woman who took a step back. “You’re just a punk. Get out of my house.”

  Without a word Hugh punched the old woman in the throat as hard as he could. Her head snapped back and to the side at an odd angle, throat visibly crushed. She fell in a heap on the floor. With the woman dead, the feeling of pressure on Hugh instantly lifted - as if an unseen weight had suddenly been removed from his chest. Unfathomable. Hugh went to the window of the apartment. The clear blue sky was aglow with the impending sunrise. A quick mental calculation and he realized he was too far from his basement apartment five flights down and a full fifteen blocks away to make it there in time- especially with a blazing morning sun with no clouds to affect its rays. Fury built in him as he turned and stalked to the front door. He locked it and, stepping over the old woman’s body, moved back to the window. Every passing moment, the sky became a brighter shade of blue. Hugh’s fury went up a notch as he realized the old woman only had lace curtains. He turned and gave the woman a glare that he hoped she could feel even now beyond this world.

  Hugh went to the bed and pulled the heavy comforter off of it. Quickly he moved to one of the windows and tried to tuck it over the curtain rod. It was too high. He spun in a circle in a rage and spotted two chairs in the kitchen area. He moved to one and kicked it to the window. Righting it, he stood with the comforter in front of him as he tucked it carefully around the curtain rod. The room was suddenly darker. He returned to the bed and took both sheets off and as he went to the other window in the apartment, he kicked the chair along with him. He felt himself getting warmer. Again, using the sheets as a shield, he moved onto the chair and tucked them into place. The room was now practically dark. A quick check of his watch showed that it was 6:20AM. Even though room was now comfortably dark, Hugh’s mood did not improve as he moved under the bed, pushing not only several shoes but a large amount of dust to one side. A rare chuckle erupted from him. “Under an old ladies bed. Four hundred years and I am going to get caught under an old lady’s bed.” His only hope was if the woman was either a recluse or did not have family that checked on her regularly.

  Neither was the case.

  Unknowingly however, Hugh had eliminated the only remaining family that checked in on the old woman; her Granddaughter, Laura the now-dead hooker.

  He looked out from under the bed and surveyed the room. It was sparsely furnished so if someone did come in, he would have plenty of room to deal with them without any danger of the window coverings being removed. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. He scooted from under the bed and moved to the light switch, brushing dust off his back as he went. He turned on the lone dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. Now with the light on, anyone who entered would not need to uncover the windows if an altercation occurred. Hugh exhaled angrily as he got on all fours, flopped on his back, and slid himself under the bed. Even through the curtains he knew he would have been able to feel the sun bearing down on him, making any sort of fighting more difficult. At least by remaining under the bed, he would be fresh and ready for a fight- at least for the first few minutes. Just having the sun up sapped his strength. He had discovered that being deep underground mitigated this weakness but unfortunately, living underground was not practical. Or comfortable. Because of this, Hugh had become a “night person”. Even centuries ago, in more proper times, he had discovered that many people out after midnight were more to his liking; rambunctious, fun-loving folk. And easily missed.

  The day dragged by as Hugh watched a sliver of light crawl across the floor. At one point he moved from under the bed and searched for something to read while he waited. Finding only several old Reader’s Digests (large print) he gave the woman a severe kick before moving back under the bed. Once there, he realized the large print actually made for easier reading in his impromptu lair. Another chuckle escaped his lips.

  Finally, the sliver of light had made its way across the room and had begun to fade. Sleeping lightly, Hugh was awakened by a commotion in the hallway. Several people were speaking. Hugh listened intently from his hiding place. It seemed that two policemen were discussing entering the dead hooker’s apartment.

  “We don’t have probable cause, Lou”, said one.

  “Sure we do,” said Lou, “Dixie said she thought her friend was in trouble.”

  “One hooker says another is in trouble and that’s probable cause?” said the first. “I think your freebies are getting to your head. Is that what we are going to tell the Captain?” he dropped his voice an octave, “I understand completely, Lou. You had to go check on that hooker because otherwise, you wouldn’t get any action all week. That works for me.” His voice returned to his usual timber. “Sure, that’s exactly what the Captain’s going to say.”

  “All I’m saying is that we had a concerned citizen say that she thought her friend was in trouble and we should check it out.” Lou’s voice took a plaintive tone, “Come on Derek, Dixie asked real nice like and I said I’d check it out.”

  “You’re pathetic.” Hugh heard loud knocking. When there was no response, there was more knocking.

  “No one’s in.” said Derek. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

  “Wait, did you hear that?”

  “You’ve been watching too much television. I’m getting something to eat. You go tell your hooker girlfriend’s girlfriend that you did your best so she’ll do her best.”

  Hugh heard the man’s footsteps start down the hallway when he heard the squeak of a doorknob being tested. His stomach moved to his feet. In his anger to deal with the old woman, he was now unsure if he had locked her door. He moved to the edge of the bed, ready to come out if need be. Hugh heard the door to the apartment open.

  “DEREK! Get in here!” he heard Lou scream. Returning footsteps meant there were now two armed men to deal with. Hugh silently cursed. Thinking back, he was sure he had locked the old woman’s door. A quick check of his watch showed that it was now 7:30. The sun was low enough on the horizon that he could move down alleyways without danger- at least the right alleyways.

  Hugh heard the two officers calling for backup. He went and stealthily ensured the door was locked. It was. With a sigh of relief, he paused at the door to listen.

  “This is Sanders, We have a 187, a double 187 at… at.. where the hell are we?”

  “Three Twenty-six, Fifty-seventh North.” Interjected Derek’s partner, “Apartment five twelve.”

  “Got that?” he asked on the edge of panic. “Double 187. 10-44.” He said into his radio as he calmed from the initial shock. “Lou, we need to button down this place. See if anyone heard anything.”

  With that, Hugh quickly moved from the door to the window. He pulled the sheets to the side and looked down. It was a sheer drop five stories to the alleyway below. With a huff, he dropped the sheets and moved to the other window. Again, he pulled back the covering and looked down. And again, there was no fire escape- just a five story drop to the ground. He turned at looked at the corpse of the old woman, “I did you a favor, lady”, he said flatly.

  The drop would normally have been lethal to a normal human- or at least deb
ilitating. During his extraordinarily long life, Hugh has had learned that he was stronger than a normal person, both in strength and in durability. Even so, the drop would cause some injury. During a bar fight, two centuries ago, Hugh was surprised to discover that his bones could actually break. He had punched a man in the front of the head so hard; he had broken his own hand as the other’s head crushed in like a melon. It was then that Hugh learned to either not hit as hard as he possibly could, or to hit in softer areas such as the chest (over the heart preferably) or the throat. Although, reflecting on the incident, it did effectively end the entire bar fight. Exhaling and inhaling deeply, Hugh opened the window and sat on the ledge. He looked down at the hard pavement below. There was absolutely nothing in the alleyway to break his fall. He smirked at the thought; the old woman lived in a decrepit fire trap above the cleanest alley in the city. Location, location, location.

  After another couple of deep breaths, Hugh started to push himself off the ledge just as he spotted a taxi approaching. Already moving forward, he twisted and frantically grabbed at the ledge of the window. Hugh scrambled back into the window as the taxi came to a stop about twenty feet farther down the alley. Now at least, there was something softer than thick pavement to aim for. As a man opened the taxi door, Hugh quickly stood on the window sill and used the edge of the building for balance. He heard a knock on the apartment door as he flung himself in the direction of the cab. Below, he saw the man shut the cab door and step away from it. A quick mental calculation and Hugh realized he was going to land on the hood of the cab- his jump was a little too energetic. Adrenalin was something that he still produced. He twisted into a sitting position to spread the impact just as the cab driver shifted into drive and began to roll forward. At that moment Hugh slammed into the windshield and roof of the cab.

  viii