“Man, that’s much better.” John said, rubbing at his wrists. “So this is the spot?”
“This is it. Talon got to it about fifteen minutes before the cops found it.”
Talon Parker came walking seemingly out of nowhere. As if he had just appeared in the middle of the large cotton field.
“Hello, John.” He said when he was within arm’s reach. “Glad you finally got yourself out of jail. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you earlier. I saw them coming but by then it was too late. I figured it wouldn’t do any of us much good to get myself locked up as well.”
John waved it away, “You did the right thing. I’m just glad you got here before the cops did. Talon, did she make it out alive?”
“Her tracks lead away from the car into the field. She was followed by two other sets. They caught up with her about twenty yards out.”
“Damn . . .” John knelt down and looked at the tracks. He couldn’t make out anything but a bunch of tossed around dirt. “You’re sure it was her?”
“I’m sure.” Talon said, sticking a piece of grass between his teeth.
“Alright.” John stood up and tossed a rock into the field. “Where did they take her?”
“John I know you probably won't want to hear this.” Ben spoke up before Talon could answer. “But there were at least eight missing persons last night in the Midland/Odessa area.”
“Yeah. And?” John crossed his arms. “What’s your point?”
“One meal for each Maker? That’s a lot of Makers John. And in case you haven’t noticed, there are only three of us. Not to mention the sun will be down in just a couple of hours.”
"What about Holloway?" John asked looking from Talon to Ben.
"His team is taking out a nest near Oklahoma City.” Ben answered. “They won't be back this way for several days."
“Turner is in the area.” Talon kicked a rock with his foot.
“Oh no. No, no, no.” Ben held up his hands, shaking his head. “I’m not working with that lunatic.”
John gave him a questioning look. “What’s wrong with Wes? We used to work with him in the old days.”
“He’s changed John. There are a lot of rumors going around about him.” Ben answered. “Really twisted things. Killing civilians, torturing vamps, things like that.”
“But nothing has been confirmed.” Talon said, “Like Ben said, they are only rumors.”
“Ben, make the call. We can’t take that many Makers on our own.” John laid his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Please Benny; she doesn’t have much time left.”
“Damn it Bishop, you owe me for this. Okay,” He nodded. “Let’s get to a pay phone and I’ll make the call to Billy. See how many other Hunters we can get into the area. Tomorrow, though, I’m not doing anything until you get rested up.”
“Don’t worry, John.” Talon patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll find them tonight. Tomorrow morning we’ll have us a nice vampire barbecue.”
“Good. Until then, we need to gear up.” John said, “I had two Grunt teeth we could cash in for the funds. Did they leave that in the evidence bag?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Ben pulled the evidence bag out of the car and dug through it. “I know just the place.” He said, holding the two teeth in the palm of his hand.
*****
Henry Anderson watched through a pair of binoculars as the so-called ‘Fed’ un-cuffed his prisoner and let him out of the car. A few seconds later, a large Native American man joined them.
“Son of a bitch.” Henry muttered to himself. “Federal agent my ass.” He watched them converse for twenty minutes before nods and pats on the backs started. Then Bishop and Morris loaded up in the Sedan. The Native American popped a tire back on his truck and within five minutes, they were on the road headed back to Midland.
The Native American exited off the interstate right before getting back into town, so Henry decided to stick to the Sedan. Staying far enough behind not to be noticed but close enough to keep an eye on them, Henry followed them to a small dusty looking pawn shop on the east side of town.
Back on the hunt, are we? Henry thought to himself as he waited for a cup of coffee at the shop across the street. And who are you Mr. Morris? Who are you really?
Coffee in hand, Henry stepped outside. Making sure to stay well out of sight, he walked to a pay phone on the corner. Setting his coffee on top of the phone booth, he picked up the phone and put a quarter in. After a few rings their came an answer on the other end. “Hey Susie. It’s Henry.”
“Hey sugar!” She said, in her deep Texas accent. “You know Captain Holt is looking for you? You were supposed to check in earlier this afternoon.”
“Yeah Susie I know. Listen, I’m on a lead here but I need you to do me a favor. I need you to run a name for me.”
“You got it baby. What’s the name?”
“Ben Morris, possibly Benjamin. See if there’s any record of him working for the FBI.”
“Benjamin Morris . . .” she said, slowly as she scribbled it down. “F . . . B . . . I . . . Alright hon I’ve got it. Where can I send it?”
“I’ll call you here in a few hours Susie. Not sure where I’ll be.”
“What do you want me to tell Captain Holt?”
Tell him to kiss my ass! I’m doing real police work for a change. Henry wanted to yell into the phone. He took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “Tell him I’m on a lead and I’ll call him first thing in the morning.”
“Henry, you know he’s not going to like that. This isn’t Captain Barnes we’re talking about.”
“Yeah I know.” Henry sipped from his coffee. He’s not half the man that Barnes was. “Good ole Barnes. God rest his soul.” He glanced across the street to see Morris and Bishop loading two duffels and four rifle cases in the back seat of the sedan. “Listen Susie I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tonight.”
“You stay safe out there Henry Anderson.” Susie said, before hanging up.
I’ll try Susie girl. But I’ve got a feeling the shit is about to hit the fan and for some crazy reason I’m jumping right into its flight pattern. Henry grabbed up his cup of coffee and rushed back to his car.
*****
“Ten grand a piece!” John said, shaking his head. “By God Ben, when I quit it was only three thousand for grunt teeth! What the hell happened?”
“A new administration is what happened - one that wants some dead vampires.” Ben pulled their sedan away from the pawnshop where they’d met one of his government contacts.
“Man things have changed.” John looked in the backseat at the heavy artillery they had just purchased. “Shame the guy didn’t have any hollow points.”
“Yeah well, we’ll have to make do with what we got.” Ben said, adjusting his rearview mirror. “It’s almost sundown. We need to get holed up someplace for the night. They might still be looking for you.”
“At this point I could care less if they are. Let them come.”
“So now you’ve got a death wish?” Ben looked over at his friend. “You think that’s what Julia would have wanted?”
“No Ben, Julia just wanted the air conditioner to get fixed. She wanted to stop worrying about if the electricity was going to be shut off because I didn't pay the bill on time. She didn’t want any of this to happen. But it did. Now, one way or another, I’m going to deal with it. She’s still alive Ben, so don’t talk about her in the past tense.”
“John, I’d like to believe she is but . . .”
“Don’t but me Ben. She’s alive.” John said, in a tone letting him know the conversation was over.
“Regardless John . . .” Ben said, slowly. “We need to get someplace safe for the night. You need to get rested up. We can’t do her any good if we get ourselves killed.”
“I can’t just go get some sleep knowing she’s still out there somewhere! Scared, hurt, alone! Praying that I find her!”
“John, you need to calm down and get some rest. What’s the first thing Cor
t taught us? Use your head. How many times did he tell us that if you rush in without thinking you will just get yourself killed? Let’s go get some rest and I’ll call Billy and get a hold of Wes. Anyway, we can’t do anything until we’ve gotten word from Talon just where we’re going.”
John sat there silently.
“John?”
“Alright damn it!” He said, angrily. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Ben’s beeper started beeping at him. Pulling it off his belt, he looked at the number. “It’s Talon. I need to get to a phone.”
Ben pulled the car into the nearest 7/Eleven and used the pay phone to call Talon. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he last ate, so John took the opportunity to run into the store and grab a bite. He came out munching on a hot dog covered in chili and mustard with a cold bottle of Dr. Pepper.
“Whatcha find out?” he asked through a mouthful of food.
“You’re not going to believe this.” Ben said, with a frown.
“What?” John asked impatiently.
“They are set up in the old Carver Estate right outside of town.”
“He’s sure?” John said, before shoving the rest of the hot dog into his mouth chasing it with a long swig of soda. Ben looked at him as if he had just asked the stupidest question ever. “Right. Talon.” John said, wiping his hands on his jeans. Pulling a bottle of aspirin from the plastic bag in his hand, he ripped off the cap and downed three pills then took another long swig of soda. “Okay, let’s crash at the Sandy Inn; it’s about two miles from there. We’ll hit them first thing in the morning.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Ben said, climbing back into the car.
*****
Henry yawned deeply as he sat outside the Sandy Inn. Morris and Bishop had checked in a couple of hours before. The sun had set an hour after that. He had called Susie from the phone in the lobby. Strangely, Benjamin Morris’ file was marked locked, top-secret clearance only. This was getting stranger by the minute. He did his best to keep his eyes open but he was fading fast.
A loud crash awoke him from his slumber a little after midnight. Henry opened his eyes and the first thing he noticed was that his driver's side door was missing.
“What the hell!” He started to yell as an arm reached through the hole where his door had been and yanked him out like a rag doll, causing him to bump his head on the doorframe. Groggily he reached with his right hand for the pistol on his hip. It was missing; he cursed himself inwardly for taking it off and setting it on the passenger seat before he had fallen asleep.
An ice-cold hand wrapped over his mouth. Henry pulled at it frantically but could not make it budge. Darkness began forming around the edges of his vision until finally he passed out.
*****
The alarm sounded at six am but John was already on his feet. He still felt horrible but the fever had broken sometime in the night. He was just glad it was a grunt that scratched him, if it had been a Maker he would be laid up for days. Though their claws wouldn’t turn a human like their fangs, they were still very poisonous to humans.
The Cleaner was cleaned and loaded, his new Kevlar vest hung loosely open over his chest. It had been seven years since his last hunt. Seven years since he had watched one of his best friends get decapitated before his eyes. Seven long years. That was a long break for even the best hunters.
Ben rose groggily out of bed rubbing his eyes. “Ugh, damn John." he yawned deeply. "Did you get any sleep last night?”
“I got enough.” John set The Cleaner back in its case then checked the two sawed off twelve-gauges he had bought from the pawnshop and the .357 tucked into the back of his waistband. “Time to go to work Ben.”
“Alright.” Ben said, grabbing his glasses off the nightstand and putting them on. “Did you want to call Jake before we head out?”
John thought it over for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No. Why worry him.”
“You’re sure? This might be the last time you talk to him.”
“No. I’ll call him when I’ve gotten Julia back.”
“Okay then.” Ben said, with a sigh then picked up the phone.
“What are you doing?” John asked snapping the cases shut.
“I’m calling my wife and kid. You know, in case I get killed?” Ben said, sarcastically. “Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah. Of course.” John said, feeling bad that he had even asked. “Sorry Ben. I’ve just . . . I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, don’t worry about it. I know you’re anxious to get this done. I’ll just be a minute okay?” Ben picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey baby, it’s me . . . yeah, we’re about to head out. I just wanted to call and tell you I love you. Give Chris a hug for me and tell him I love him too . . .” he grew silent as he listened to his wife on the other end. “Cat, I don’t think . . . alright, alright.” He held the phone out to John. “She wants to talk to you.”
John picked up the phone. “Hi Cat.”
“Hi John.” she said, in a thick Spanish accent. “Look. I’m sorry about what happened to Julia. But you get your head in the game okay? If my Ben is killed because you're not doing what you’re supposed to, you’re going to have to answer to me. Understand?”
“Yeah Cat, I got you. I promise I won’t let anything happen to him.”
“Good. Take care of yourself John and bring Julia home.”
“Goodbye Cat.” John handed the phone back to Ben.
Grabbing up his gun cases, duffel, and the keys off the dresser John headed out the door leaving Ben alone to talk with his wife. Time to get your head in the game. He thought to himself. God let me be swift. Let me be strong. Let me be your right hand of judgment on these monstrosities. Watch over my team and please God don’t let me get them killed. Watch over Jake and protect him and please God, let my Julia come home to me. Amen. Oh and God . . . if Terry’s up there with you, tell him . . . John smiled to himself. Tell him he’s just going to have to wait a little longer till we can share a six-pack again. Amen.
Tossing his duffel and gun cases into the trunk John climbed into driver’s seat. Turning on the engine, he put it on his favorite rock station and cranked it up until the speakers were at their max. Gun’s N Roses Welcome to the Jungle was on. Closing his eyes John let the music flow through him, putting everything else out of his mind. He barely noticed when Ben climbed into the passenger seat next to him.
“Ready to go to work?” Ben asked.
John looked at his old friend, his mind clear and determined. “Let’s Rock and Roll.”
Chapter 7
John/Henry
The Carver Mansion, Midland, TX.
August 1, 1994 6:45am
John pulled the sedan into the drive of a very large house situated six miles east of Midland. The spooky old two-story loomed eerily above; its white paint long since chipped and faded. All of the windows were either boarded up or painted over, a sure sign that something inside did not want the sun coming in.
Twenty years ago, the Carvers had been one of the more prominent oil families in West Texas. George Carver’s net worth was estimated to be somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty million dollars. However, like many big oil companies the bust in the early eighties hit him especially hard, almost bankrupting Carver Oil. Riker Oil and Drilling, seeing its chance to wipe out one of its biggest competitors, leapt at the chance to buy Carver out. Carver, who had built the company from the ground up, refused to sell. So Riker cut him out of the equation by offering the members of his board well over what the company was worth.
George Carver was ruined. So one Christmas Eve, not long after his company was stolen out from under him, George Carver walked silently through his house murdering his entire family with a large kitchen knife. Among his victims were three small grandchildren. The only survivor was one of his teenage grandsons, who had decided to camp out in the attic the night before. He came down that Christmas morning expecting to open presents,
instead he found his family with their throats slit and his grandfather hanging from the rafters of the front porch.
It had been one of the biggest murders in Midland’s history and over a decade later, the house still sat empty. Not a single person had taken up residence there. Rumor had it the floors were still coated with the dried blood of his victims and that every night Mr. Carver's ghost wandered the halls, looking for the one grandson that had escaped his wrath.
Only brave teenagers looking for a cheap scare, or a place to get drunk or high had dared to go there after dark. The vampires could not have picked a more perfect place to use as a den. Secluded, abandoned, without any neighbors for miles coupled with its proximity to a small city made it a perfect base of operations. Containing well over a dozen rooms the mansion was nothing short of tremendous in size. It was a death trap for only three hunters. Nevertheless, John couldn't wait any longer. With or without backup he was going in. Julia could be inside that house, and he would do whatever it took to get her back.
“Hell of a coincidence that the house these suckheads decided to take up residence in once belonged to a man screwed over by your father in-law.” Ben said, looking over the daunting task before them.
“No, not really.” John replied, putting the car in park. “Riker screwed a lot of people over the years. I’m sure there are more than a few ghosts roaming houses emptied by that son of a bitch.”
“Yeah no joke.” Ben agreed. “Is he still alive?”
“Last I heard,” John nodded. “He’s had every cancer imaginable, but is just too damn mean to die off. Can’t say I blame the devil much for not letting him in. If Riker actually did die, he’d probably be running hell within a week.”
Talon was sitting on the tailgate of his truck with his back to the house. Two large caliber pistols sat in holsters on his hips next to his bone-handled knife, two sheathed machetes were strapped to his back and a long seven-foot lance sat across his lap. Unlike most hunters, Talon didn’t wear body armor; he preferred the freedom of movement over the protection of the restricting body armor. Only a sleeveless black t-shirt and the two leather straps holding the machetes to his back covered his chest. He puffed one last drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stomping it out.
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