Blood Lust: A Supernatural Horror

by Gurley, JE

  She nodded. “Dr. Alvarez, yes. We saw her talking to the creature. When we confronted her, she killed Steve for this.” She held out a small object I didn’t recognize.

  “What is it?”

  “The memory card from Steve’s digital video camera. She’s on here, talking to the creature about killing you.”

  I nodded, realizing why Joria would kill for it. So far, there was no solid evidence against her. A video of her and the creature conspiring to kill a police officer, well ex-police officer, would put her away for a long time. “Come with us. We’re getting out of here before the place goes up in flames.”

  Then it hit me that there was only one way Ella and her cameraman could have gotten in. “You came in through the steel door, didn’t you.”

  She looked at me, puzzled by my concern. “Yes, but we shut it behind us.” Her mouth made an ‘O’. You don’t think it can open the door do you?”

  “I don’t know, but I find hard to believe a creature that can live for centuries would be stopped by a doorknob. It doesn’t matter. Joria can open it for him.”

  Her face screwed up to cry again. “I’m sorry,” she wailed; then her eyes went wide. “The creature was headed this way. I, I must have passed it.”

  “It’s probably searching for a way out, but it will surely be back,” I said. The words had barely left my mouth when I head its loud screech. “Speak of the devil.” I looked at Simmons. “You two go ahead. I’ve got to stop Joria.”

  “No way,” Simmons protested.

  “You’re no good with that wound. Take Ms. Ramirez and get out of here. I’ll be along shortly, don’t worry.”

  “But I do worry. I’m your guardian angel, right?”

  “Right.”

  Ramirez looked at me uncertainly when I said, “You go first and help Clad when he comes through. I’ll tend the fire for awhile.”

  She stared into the dark opening and backed away. “You’re crazy. I’m not going down there.”

  “It’s the only way out,” I said.

  She looked behind us. “Why not leave the way I came in?”

  “The creature won’t give us that chance.” I looked at the fire. It was eating the dry wood like it was soaked in kerosene. Flames crawled up the walls and nibbled at the roof. “Besides, in ten minutes the roof might come down on us.”

  She hesitated but the thought of a cave-in decided her. She slid feet first like Alice down the rabbit hole. Her scream followed her until I heard a distant splash and a curse. I turned to Simmons. “Your turn.”

  He grinned at me and went down the opening.

  I looked around as he entered the hole. The two fires were well ablaze, creating a lot of smoke and heat.

  “You won’t escape that easily,” a voice called from down the tunnel. It was the Chupacabra.

  I fired one blast toward the voice with the elephant gun and yelled, “Come get me if you can!”

  Just as I wondered why the creature had bothered to warn me it was coming, my sixth sense kicked into high gear. I turned just in time to dodge a wooden board swinging at the back of my head. Joria stood there, the flames framing her like a scene from Dante’s Inferno.

  “You tried that before, didn’t you? Down in the old mill.”

  She was breathing hard after pursuing Ella Ramirez. Her face was no longer beautiful but covered with blood, Steve Capaldi’s blood. “I didn’t try to kill you. I just had to stop you.”

  I leveled the elephant gun at her but kept one eye out for the Chupacabra. She appeared undaunted by the gun.

  “You have no right to kill them.”

  “Them?”

  She laughed. “Did you think there was just one? Did you think you could wipe them out of existence? There are many more here and elsewhere in the world. If they wanted to dominate us, they could. They seek only to survive.”

  I shook my head. “The cost is too high.”

  She lowered her board. “If you join with me, help me, the Chupacabra will give you its precious gift, as it did me.”

  I stared at her dumbfounded. “You’re raving.”

  Her eyes flashed angrily. “You fool! How did you enjoy making love with a woman old enough to be your mother?”

  When I simply stared, she continued. “I’m fifty-six years old. I will continue to enjoy youth for a hundred years, perhaps more. Join me. You know I love you.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Chupacabra moving at the edge of the light from the flames. Joria was attempting to use me again, keep me occupied while her gray friend killed me. I didn’t know if she was telling the truth or raving, but it didn’t matter. I grabbed her arm.

  “Sure thing,” I snapped. “Let’s go on a honeymoon.”

  Before she could break free, I shoved her down the hole and leaped in after her. Behind me, the creature screamed its outrage. The others were waiting on me. Ella was soaking wet and fuming.

  “You pushed me,” she yelled. She turned to Joria and slapped her across the face so hard Joria stumbled. I hid my smile.

  “You took too much time deciding,” I said.

  The light from Simmons’ flashlight almost blinded me as he swung it in my direction. stand. “We can try downstream,” he said, eyeing Joria with contempt.

  We began to wade downstream searching for a way out. The air in the river tunnel was much fresher than the air in the subway tunnel above. That was encouraging. That meant fresh air was entering from somewhere A thousand yards later, we encountered a recent rock fall and a maze of charred wood and heavy beams – the remains of the underground mill beneath the monastery. I looked at the debris crestfallen, my hopes dashed. There was no way out downstream, not now. My previous act of arson had doomed us all.

  “End of the line,” Simmons quipped, taking the blockage in stride.

  Frustrated and angry with myself, I clambered upon one of the heavy beams. “Maybe we can dig our way into the mill.”

  “The entire monastery fell in on top of it, Hardin. There’s tons of masonry up there,” Simmons said, dashing my hopes.

  I jumped back into the water. “There’s no place left but the cavern.”

  “Back the way we came?” Ella whined.

  “Unless you want to wait here for the creature to show up,” I snapped irritably.

  Joria ignored us but followed as we followed the river upstream until we reached the cavern. I activated both remaining glow sticks and tossed them against the cavern walls. In the almost ethereal light, it would have been a beautiful place if we hadn’t been trapped. Smoke was beginning to invade the cavern from the smaller opening that led to the narrow winding passage I had followed earlier. That meant the fire in the tunnel above was spreading rapidly. I hoped it grew hot enough to fry the Chupacabra.

  Simmons sat down beside the pool and drank from it with cupped hands. I started to remind him the water might be full of germs, but remembered he was carrying a massive load of infection already. A little more probably wouldn’t hurt. I was surprised he was still walking around, amazed by his stamina. I sat down beside him. Ella, looking distraught, kept an eye on Joria.

  “Looks like I’ve trapped us here,” I told Simmons.

  He glanced at me. His face was gaunt and he was perspiring heavily. The infection was eating at him badly. His voice was weak as he spoke, but he managed a smile. “Better than the tunnel,” he said quietly, rolling his eyes up to indicate the inferno above. “We’re not dead yet.”

  “Maybe the cavalry will come,” I said half in jest. His companions from Section One would have arrived on the scene by now. If I hadn’t played arsonist again they would probably have been in the subway tunnel already. I doubted they could get to us now.

  We both turned at the sound of a loud splash downstream.

  “Debris from the fire?” I asked.

  His look of despair told me he didn’t think so. The Chupacabra had enlarged the hole in the wall and had followed us, either in an attempt to escape the blazing inferno above or
simply in pursuit of us. I grabbed the elephant gun, placed it across my lap and pulled out the .357, laying it on the ground beside me.

  Ella noticed. “What is it?” Her eyes grew wide. “It’s coming, isn’t it?”

  Joria laughed. “It will enjoy drinking your blood. Maybe I’ll try some as well.”

  This angered Ella. She took a step toward Joria, perhaps to slap her again. Knowing how cunning Joria was, I stopped her.

  “Leave her alone,” I said. “She just wants a chance to kill you. Here, take this.”

  I handed her the .357. She eyed it with suspicion. “I can’t use it,” she protested.

  Just point and pull the trigger.”

  The wall she glared at Joria, I questioned my wisdom in arming her.

  “Should we move against a wall?” Simmons asked.

  I shook my head. “I want to be out in the open where I can see it coming from all sides. I’m tired of fighting in the dark or in confined spaces. The glow sticks will last a while longer and I don’t think it’s in any mood to wait.” I held out the elephant gun. “Let’s see what this thing can do when I’ve got time to aim it properly.”

  I know we looked pathetic for an army, two men and a woman, exhausted, sick, frightened and wounded, challenging a creature whose kind had been around for millennia, whose intelligence was probably higher than all ours combined and knew every trick any of its kind had learned in all that time. It was determined to wipe us out – me for killing its kin and the others simply for being with me. But we were determined too. I had witnessed its savage butchery, its disdain for the human race as anything but a source of fresh blood. I had killed its parent and siblings, but it had killed my partner and my friends. On this score, we were even. The advantage I had over the creature was that I doubted we would live through this fight. All I wanted, at least, was the chance to kill it with my last dying breath.

  I stood and faced downstream. I left Simmons sitting where he was by the pool. He was too weak to stand but the look of hatred on his face gave me courage. If the creature escaped, as I imagined it could do eventually, it would continue its killing spree and someday spread across the face of the globe. This was too large a burden to shoulder, so I concentrated on my first priority – revenge.

  34

  Trey Faber exited the sleek black Hummer, stood and looked over the group of men gathered around the ventilator shaft. Black smoke was roiling from the opening, an ominous sign. The men seemed uncertain what to do.

  “Which one of you is Oliver McNeil?” Faber asked as he walked up to them. With his neatly pressed black suit and dark shades, he exuded an air of authority, which he was glad to see the gathered men did not miss.

  McNeil chewed on an unlit cigar. He eyed Faber suspiciously. “I’m McNeil.”

  Faber took in McNeil’s rumpled and dirt-stained clothes without comment. “Your office said I would find you here. What’s going on?”

  “Well I’ll tell you what’s going on here, mister. A fire is going on here. Who the hell are you?”

  “My name’s Faber. I’m with Homeland Security. My men need access to the old subway tunnel.” He pointed to five men dressed in black fatigues standing around the Hummer. “Is this shaft the only way in?”

  “Right now there’s no way in, or out. The containment doors between the two tunnels are sealed. If we open any doors, the fire will spread throughout the entire tunnel system and endanger the stations. I have a crew down there spraying water on the wooden walls where the two tunnels diverge hoping to keep the fire from burning through.”

  Faber pointed down the open shaft, backing away from a sudden puff of smoke and heat. “What about through here?”

  McNeil shook his head. “The power’s off and the fans aren’t working. The air’s full of smoke, dust and carbon monoxide.”

  Faber sighed knowing he was quickly running out of options. “What about using self-contained suits with oxygen?”

  “It’s about 150 degrees down there. Men couldn’t last more than a few minutes in that heat even with an air-conditioned suit. You would have to remove them to enter through the trap door.”

  Faber was exasperated and let McNeil know that he wasn’t used to people throwing obstacles in his path. “I have to get my men down there,” he bellowed. “How do I do it?”

  McNeil glared at Faber, but when he saw the concern in Faber’s eyes, he allowed a touch of sympathy to show in his. He idly massaged his sore left arm. He wasn’t usually as gruff or as short tempered, but he was still feeling the effects of his mild heart attack. He had belligerently refused the well-intentioned ministrations of the ER doctor and had insisted on returning to the ventilator shaft after the doctor had assured him that Walmsley would live. He saw no reason to lie around in a hospital bed while men he knew, friends, faced danger in his subway.

  “I’ve got a couple of friends down there and I’ve lost one man already. If I thought there was a way down there, I’d go in after them.” McNeil turned away.

  Faber knew about Walmsley. His office received any strange fever or wound reports from the hospital staff. That was how he had found out about McNeil. He decided to pull rank. “Look. This is a matter of national security. I need…”

  McNeil waved his hand in dismissal without looking at Faber. “I know all about your monster, Mr. Faber. I’ve seen it. I’ve fought it. Hardin and Simmons went back down after it after they brought me and Walmsley back up. They may be dead. I just don’t know.”

  Faber cursed. It was clear now why Simmons had refused to give his location when he called in. “Clad Simmons is down there with Hardin?”

  McNeil turned back to face him. “Simmons saved my life.”

  “Sounds like Simmons,” Faber replied. His concern was why Simmons was there helping Hardin. “How did you find him?”

  McNeil chuckled. “He found us. We were in a tight spot fighting the creature. He came out of nowhere and saved our ass.”

  “How did the fire start?”

  McNeil shook his head. “I’m not sure – short circuit maybe, or maybe Hardin started it to kill the creature. He’s determined enough.”

  “We want to capture it.”

  McNeil stared hard at Faber. “So Hardin said. I don’t think your boy Simmons agrees with you.”

  So Simmons had gone rogue. “If we can get to them we might be able to render assistance.”

  McNeil glanced at the men around the Hummer, and then back at Faber. “You’re welcome to sit and wait with us. There’s nothing we can do right now.”

  “We can get some firefighting equipment down there, put out the fire. I can’t just wait here.”

  “Look, Mr. Faber. That tunnel is over sixty years old. The rock’s rotten and the tunnel was never sealed in concrete. The only thing keeping the walls and roof from collapsing is a thin layer of wooden boards supported by beams. What do you think is burning? That tunnel is a death trap. No sane man would go down there.” He looked back down the airshaft. “No sane man would have gone down there in the first place.”

  For the first time in many years, Faber was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do. His orders were clear, but he could not order his men down into that hellhole to die. He felt his mantle of authority slipping away. Washington would take no excuses. They would replace him after a decade on the job. Trouble was he liked his job. He looked back at his men. He could read in their eyes that they expected him to send them down and they would go if he ordered it, but they didn’t like the idea.

  He didn’t either. As much as he liked Simmons, maybe he could use Simmons as a scapegoat to take some of the heat away from him. After all, Simmons had betrayed his trust and shirked his duty by aiding Hardin.

  “Sir, look!”

  Faber looked up at one of McNeil’s men pointing to a column of smoke rising about a couple of miles away. Faber knew it was very near the old monastery, scene of so much recent creature activity. “That’s near the old monastery. What is it, another tunnel?”
/>   McNeil stared at the smoke a moment before answering. “There’s no tunnel that way. Hardin did say he had found the old cavern system and an underground river. The old river must run beneath the monastery parallel to the dry riverbed.”

  Faber saw a slim hope. “Any chance of getting to it?” he asked.

  “The entire structure collapsed on top of it. Smoke might get through, but people … I don’t know. We can check it out. We aren’t doing much good here with this death watch.”

  Faber waved his men back into the Hummer and turned to follow.

  “Wait!” McNeil yelled. “I’ll come with you. The others need to stay here just in case.”

  Faber nodded. “Come on, then.”

  On the way, Faber went over his notes about the monastery. Most of it was historical drivel someone had thought he might need. Originally, a renegade Jesuit order of St. Ignatius of Loyola eager to break away from Spanish authority had built the monastery on the banks of the Cane River in 1690. They were cloistered and self sufficient, growing vegetables, raising cattle and even wheat, grinding it in their own water-powered mill, which also served the early surrounding community.

  In 1740, as the community grew larger, the Catholic Church, eager to increase its influence in a mostly Protestant America, declared the Jesuits heretic and killed them all and desecrated many of the tombs and mausoleums they found beneath the monastery in the catacombs. When they constructed a new Catholic church on the site in the 1940’s, it lasted only a few decades before it was abandoned. It was as if the blood of the murdered Jesuits site had cursed it. Certainly, he mused, current events did nothing to remove that centuries old stain.

  As they neared the ruins of the monastery, it was evident that the smoke was coming from there, near the dry river where the old mill had collapsed. Faber was dismayed when he surveyed the area, a large crater filled with the tumbled, blackened masonry of one section of collapsed compound wall. Smoke rose from several places in the crater. He grew excited when he spotted a rat scurrying across the crater.

  “Look! A rat.”

  “A rat is a lot smaller than a man,” McNeil said, bringing him down to earth. “We could dig for days and not break through.”