Because of the highly evolved immune and tissue regeneration system of the vampyres, the Sickness does not kill them, but drives them insane.
One of the prime motivating factors behind the formation of Vampyre Councils was to deal with the problems associated with fellow vampyres infected with the Sickness. Since there was no cure and the insanity caused the victims to act irrationally and without heed for their safety or for the safety of other vampyres, the infected ones were a danger to the entire vampyre community and were routinely killed when ferreted out.
Catching the Sickness from one of my victims had always been one of my greatest fears, and I routinely ran blood tests on myself when I had access to a laboratory to make sure I hadn’t contracted the deadly disease. I could think of nothing worse than the slow deterioration of my mind and body, of facing an eternity mired in the deepest insanity. I’d long ago made a pact with myself that should my tests ever come back positive for the disease, I would immediately commit suicide rather than face such a life.
Under pretext of looking for the waiter to order another drink, I twisted in my seat until I could see where the crazy thoughts were coming from. I spied a large man with wide shoulders and a full black beard sitting at a table with two women. He was drinking heavily, another sign he was ill since vampyres rarely overindulge in alcohol in public. The women had frightened, worried looks on their faces as if they didn’t know what to make of his strange, erratic behavior.
I was going to have to do something about this creature before the night was over, lest he do something to bring the attention of the Canadian authorities down on us all.
Finally catching the waiter’s eye, I signaled for a refill and turned back around in my chair.
I found Ed Slonaker staring over my shoulder at the same man I’d been watching, a frown on his face and his eyes narrowed.
“What is it, Ed?” I asked. Had my interest in the stranger been too obvious?
Ed grimaced and shook his head. “Just looking at a drunken fool over there bothering two women tourists.” He cut his eyes back to me. “It’s assholes like that that give men a bad reputation.”
Kim giggled again, emptied her glass of beer, and patted Ed on the arm. “Now, Eddy, you’re not on duty tonight, dear. Why don’t you leave that man alone and take me to our compartment. There’s something I want to show you,” she finished, giggling wildly at the innuendo and batting her eyes seductively.
Ed assumed a placating expression and shrugged at me. “See what a guy has to put up with when he marries a Canadian wench?”
Kim scooted out of the booth and pulled on Ed’s arm. “Come on, my big ol’ grizzly bear,” she pleaded. “Take me home!”
Ed took her by the arm and led her toward the door. He called back over his shoulder, “We’ll see you tomorrow in the observation car tomorrow, Elijah.”
I smiled and waved until they were gone, and then I moved around the table until I could see the man in the far corner of the car. It was lucky the Slonakers called it an early night for it left me free to deal with the sick one on my own terms.
I ordered a 7-Up from the waiter to have something to do with my hands while I watched the threesome across the car. As I sat there, I let my mind open and focused on the women tourists. I found their names were Becky and Sally Lee and that they were from Minnesota. I also discovered they were staying in car number 2105 and that they fervently wished this rude, boorish interloper hadn’t forced himself on them.
I wet my lips with the soda and sat staring at the sick one with hooded eyes. It was a measure of just how far gone the creature was that he didn’t notice my eyes on him or the intrusion of my mind on his.
When I opened my mind again, I was bombarded with dark, chaotic images of torn throats, naked breasts covered with blood, and of the beast wildly copulating with the dead bodies of the two tourists. I broke out in a cold, red-tinged sweat as I tried to push the images aside. I found them repulsive, yet somehow strangely exciting, and I could feel the first twinges of the Hunger responding to the thoughts in my mind of drinking warm, salty blood tinged with the sweet aphrodisiac of fear-inspired adrenaline. It had been a long time since I had allowed myself that luxury, and my body and mind were responding to the dark images projected by the sick one.
With an angry jerk of my head, I lurched to my feet and staggered like a drunken man back down the corridor toward the door to the club car. I had to get ready and I feared I had very little time in which to do so.
As I passed the small bar and kitchen of the car, I willed the cook/bartender to direct his attention elsewhere while I pocketed a large butcher knife hanging on a wall peg.
I pushed the Hunger down and out of my mind while I made my way quickly to my own car. Once inside, I opened my stash of blood and drank several vials quickly. I was going to need all of my strength to deal with the sick one later, and though this packaged blood wasn’t nearly as good as the freshly spilled variety, it would have to do. Luckily, I would have the element of surprise on my side since the sick one seemed oblivious to everyone around him except his potential victims.
When I passed Leroy’s compartment on my way to car 2105, I paused to listen. Sure enough, the grunts and groans showed Leroy had indeed gotten lucky with the tourist. I smiled grimly, hoping I too would get lucky this night, though in a completely different way.
I could feel the insidious intrusion of the Hunger lessening under the influence of the blood I’d had, and it freed my mind to concentrate on the task at hand.
* * *
I took up station in the small space between cars 2105 and 2104, waiting for the appearance of Becky and Sally Lee. While I waited, I jimmied the lock on the outside door of the car so that once I’d killed the vampyre I could throw the body off the train.
I steeled myself for what I was about to do. Since I’d sworn off killing for the gratification of my own Hunger, I knew it would be no easy matter to take the life of another, even one so sick and evil as the one I stalked. I only hoped the shedding of blood once again wouldn’t reawaken the Hunger in me and make it strong enough to overcome the treatments I’d been taking. That would be almost too high a price to pay, even to keep the existence of the vampyre race a continued secret.
Standing there with my mind open, I heard the two women coming, both frightened and wanting to get to the safety of their compartment and escape the craziness of their companion from the club car.
When they entered the space between the cars and saw me standing there in the shadows, the one named Becky gave a soft exclamation, her hand going to her mouth.
“Good evening, ladies,” I said in a soft voice and turned to look out the window in the outer door, letting them know I was of no threat to them.
They hurriedly passed into their compartment and I heard the click of the lock as they shut the door. I immediately changed into my vampyre form, getting ready for the terror I knew was following the women.
Seconds later, the door opened and the sick one entered, already partially changed, getting ready for his attack.
He stopped in midstride when he saw me in the shadows, already fully changed. His beady, red eyes focused on me and he growled, crouching with his claws extended and his dripping fangs bared, infuriated that another of his kind might be after his prey.
I held the large butcher knife blade out in my right hand, partially hidden behind my back. Without saying a word, I stepped quickly forward, my hand moving with lightning-like speed as I swiped the blade across the other’s neck just below the thick, black beard.
As the Sick one’s claws went to his neck, trying to stem the flow of blood from the gaping wound, his reddened eyes wide with shock, I kicked backward, opening the outside door.
With my left claw, I reached up and grabbed the sick one’s hair and jerked his head backward, exposing his leaking, spurting neck.
Using all of my strength, I swung the knife again, severing the tissue and ligaments and spinal cord neatly between
the second and third cervical vertebrae. The vampyre’s head came loose in my hand. I flipped it over my shoulder and out the opened door, managing to catch the headless body as it collapsed like a rag doll into my waiting arms.
Two quick steps and I heaved the body after the head, letting the wind of the rushing train slam the door shut.
I stood there, shivering and breathing heavily from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the strong smell of blood in the tiny space making my mouth water and the Hunger begin to stir deep in my gut. Though I was no stranger to extreme violence, killing another of my own kind was always hard for me, even when I had no choice in the matter.
I glanced down. My clothes and the floor of the platform were covered with blood. This would never do. There was no way I could make it back to my car without being seen, and I had to take care of this mess before someone else discovered it.
Luckily, each of the sleeping cars had a communal shower in the front of the cars, so I stepped into the one for car 2105 and stood under the streaming water fully dressed. Once most of the stains were washed out of my clothes and hair, I undressed, wrung out my clothes as best I could and redressed. Other than looking like I’d been caught in a sudden downpour, with wet, stringy hair and damp, wrinkled clothes, I thought I might pass muster if anyone happened by.
I hurriedly took the wastebasket in the shower stall, filled it with cold water, and doused the platform floor several times, washing away the worst of the bloodstains. It wouldn’t pass close inspection, but since the train was due at our first overnight stop at Jasper National Park early the next morning, I hoped the vampyre I’d killed wouldn’t be missed until after the train had moved on. By that time I would be on another train and the stains would be completely gone.
I moved quickly through several cars until I came to mine and was just entering my compartment when I saw Ed Slonaker enter the door at the end of the car. What the hell, I thought. I figured old Ed would be getting his ashes hauled about now.
I slipped into my room before he could see me and ask about my wet clothes and hair. I closed and locked the door, standing with my ear to the door while I listened with the lights out.
I heard Ed’s footsteps slow and stop for a few seconds outside my door, and then they continued on down the corridor.
I stood there in the darkness, my mind working. I think the Slonakers might stand a closer look, I mused as I began to undress for bed. Once I was completely naked, I used the hottest water I could get to scrub any traces of the tainted blood from my skin.
Twenty
Ed Slonaker continued his stroll down the corridor past Elijah Pike’s room and passed on through to the next car. He was walking with his hands in his pockets and was whistling softly to himself; the heavy weight of the .357 Magnum that was hanging in a shoulder holster under his left arm was comforting to him.
He smiled as he thought about how he’d interrupted the steward Leroy’s nocturnal tryst to get the compartment number of the drunken lout he’d observed in the club car. He’d found the man’s name was Jonathan Kincaid and he was staying in a compartment several cars ahead.
Ed intended to have a talk with the man and to do whatever was necessary to keep him from bothering any more tourists.
As he passed between cars 2104 and 2105, he noticed a thick, musty smell in the platform space. His nostrils dilated and he bent and put a finger in a small pool of water on the platform deck. When he raised it into the light, he saw his finger was tinged red. “Uh-oh,” he muttered, standing up to take a closer look at the outer door. Sure enough, the lock was scratched and broken and the door opened easily to his push.
“Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, pulling the Magnum from its holster and moving quickly toward Kincaid’s compartment, hoping he wasn’t too late and that the man hadn’t done something terrible.
When he got there, he stood to the side of the door, holding the big pistol down by his thigh, and knocked on the door. There were no sounds of stirring inside, so he twisted the doorknob as hard as he could and leaned his big shoulder into the door.
With a loud pop, the lock gave way and the door swung open.
Ed entered quickly, stepping to the side with his back against the wall as he’d been trained, the gun held out in front of him. The room was empty.
Ed shut the door and flicked the light on, his nostrils quivering at the heavy, musty, animal scent of the place. “Jesus,” he muttered, “it smells like a den in here.”
A quick search of the room revealed no sign of the man known as Kincaid, but nothing about the room was ordinary. Foul, dirty laundry was strewn about the room, lying where it’d been thrown. There were stained dishes and glasses piled everywhere, smelling of rotted food. Ed was leaning into the small bathroom when he spied a tuft of coarse, dark brown hair caught in the doorway. He pulled it out and rolled it between his fingers, frowning at it. Putting it close to his nose, he noticed the same strong musty smell that pervaded the compartment. He shook his head, his eyes flicking around the mess. This is one sick son of a bitch, he thought, the hairs on the back of his neck stirring at the madness he sensed in this place. Finally, he brushed the hair from his fingers and he eased out of the compartment, pulling the door shut behind him.
As he continued toward the club car, he wondered if he would find Kincaid there . . . and if he did, then whose blood was it he’d found on the platform?
When he saw some tourists moving toward him down the corridor, he holstered the pistol and settled it under his left arm. This is turning out to be some vacation, he thought, his lips curling into a fierce grin.
Twenty-one
I woke up at precisely eight o’clock the next morning, just as the Canadian Pacific rolled into the station at Jasper National Park. The passengers disembarked and were herded into taxis and taken to the Jasper Lodge several miles from the small town. On the way, I could see small herds of bighorn sheep and occasional groups of elk grazing near the roadways, which ran through stands of tall ponderosa pines and stately maple and elm trees.
I looked around at the scenery, thinking it among the most beautiful places I’d ever seen. In a lot of ways, it reminded me of the wooded hills of my old home near Waterford, Maine.
After I checked in and dropped off my overnight bag in my room at the lodge, I walked down a winding, tree-shrouded gravel path to the main room of the lodge and sat at a table to order breakfast.
Just as the waiter appeared, Ed and Kim Slonaker walked up. Kim was yawning and rubbing at bloodshot eyes and looked as if she was suffering from a world-class hangover.
I grinned and pulled out a chair for her. “Looks like you need some caffeine and an aspirin, Kim.”
She nodded, squinting her eyes against the morning sunlight that streamed through the large plate-glass window next to the table.
“What I really need is a brain transplant,” she groaned, grabbing a glass of water the waiter had poured and drinking it down in one long gulp.
Ed smiled at her patiently. “She should know better than to drink so much at this altitude,” he said kindly. “The thin air makes it really go to her head.”
I glanced at the waiter, who was standing with his pad in his hand. “Bring us all a round of virgin bloody Marys, with plenty of Tabasco sauce,” I ordered.
When the waiter left to get the drinks, I looked over at Kim. “That should put you right in no time.”
She rubbed her temples with her fingers. “It’d better or you might just as well take me out and shoot me, ay.”
Ed looked at me, and the smile that curled his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How about you, Elijah? Did you sleep okay?”
I stifled a yawn and nodded. “Yeah. I think I must have died as soon as my head hit the pillow. I don’t remember a thing until Leroy knocked on my door this morning telling me we were pulling into the station.”
Ed dropped his eyes and fiddled with his knife and fork as he asked, “So, you didn’t hear anything strange last n
ight?”
I frowned, wondering what he was getting at. “No. Why do you ask?”
Ed shrugged. “Oh, no reason. It’s just that Leroy said one of the passengers was missing this morning. He found his compartment empty with all of his belongings still there.”
“That’s funny,” I said, feigning ignorance. “If the train didn’t make any stops last night, then how did he get off?”
Ed looked up and stared at me. “I can think of a couple of ways.”
I put my finger to my lips and assumed a thoughtful look. I knew it would do no good to pretend to be stupid, Ed was too smart a cop to buy that. “Hmmm, well I can think of three, and none of them are very pleasant.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he either fell, jumped, or was pushed,” I responded.
As Ed nodded, his eyes boring into mine, I asked, “Who was it, by the way?”
“Do you remember the drunk guy who was bothering a couple of women in the club car last night?” he asked.
I frowned. “I vaguely remember you saying something about it, how he was giving all men a bad name or something like that.”
“He’s the one missing.”
I shrugged. “Well, if he was as drunk as you say he was, maybe he got sick or passed out and fell off the train.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s it,” Ed said slowly, stopping as the waiter appeared with their drinks.
Kim took her bloody Mary and drank it down, gasping as the spicy Tabasco sauce made her eyes water and her mouth pucker. “Wow!” she exclaimed, “That’ll either cure me or kill me.”
Both of us smiled as her face flushed a bright red and she breathed deeply through her mouth.
“Now what you need is a big breakfast with plenty of calories to chase that hangover away,” I said as I slowly sipped my own drink, though of course I didn’t have a hangover.
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