“S’cuse me, bud! Here, let me get them for you…”
We bent together at the same moment, knocked heads—“Ow!”—and someone stepped on the sunglasses with a tinkling crunch.
I picked them up, stood there studying the mangled plastic like a moron, Mitzi shouting, “Get out of here!” in my head.
And then someone else was shouting. Some woman. I couldn’t see who in the sea of faces. But I could hear her. “Hey! That him! The guy in the photo!”
And everybody else heard her too.
All my senses came into vivid focus at once.
I pushed away from the sound of the shouting woman, put on an enraged angry citizen’s face, and pointed somewhere over the bobbing heads before me. “There he goes! The guy who killed our Mayor! Get him!”
Everyone turned in the direction I was pointing. Most actually began moving quickly that way, like a sudden surge of current. Some even began running.
But not all.
Just as I felt certain I’d pulled it off, a thick-muscled hand clamped my arm.
“Hey, you! Hold it, buddy—“
I spun without looking and lashed out, smashing the guy’s face with my fist. He grunted but hardly budged. He had a voice like a bullhorn. “Here! I got him!”
Then the bullhorn went into a high falsetto as Mitzi’s incisors sank into his ankle. I felt the thick-muscled hand leave my arm…
After that there seems to be a small blank space in my memory.
I didn’t get knocked out or hit my head or anything, because the next thing I remember I was running—we were running, Mitzi and I—and by some miracle the crowd chasing us was behind us, and then the crowd behind us was running headlong into the crowd in front of us, who had no idea what was going on. Then there was a lot of shouting and tangled feet and pushing and yelling and threatening all at the same time: a tsunami of noise.
And then I was alone suddenly.
Alone before a narrow corridor of brick walls. But not alone; Mitzi was at the other end of the long alley, calling to me in my head and barking at the same time. “This way! This way, Ed, hurry!”
I ran after her.
But truthfully, I was just about run out.
Not being in what you’d call terrific shape to begin with, whatever shape I had left was somewhere back at the capitol steps. I barely made it to the end of the alley where Mitzi was waiting, praying with everything I had that the street beyond her was empty of lynch-minded Topeka citizens.
I knew by her expression as I stumbled up that Mitzi saw my exhaustion.
At least the street behind her was empty.
But you could hear the mob.
It sounded like a growing stampede, echoing somewhere in the maze of downtown buildings.
From what I could tell from our location, Mitzi had somehow led us in the opposite direction of my car. Maybe she’s done that on purpose, I thought, leaning against the wall of the alley trying to get my breath: if the police had my name they had my license plates and every patrol car in town would be gunning for us. We were safer on foot, or at least in some other car.
But Mitzi wasn’t running anymore.
She wasn’t urging me on or yanking impatiently at my cuff. She was just standing there before the alley looking kind of wistfully at me.
“What’s the matter?” I wheezed.
“You, Sport. You can’t keep this up.”
I knew she was right.
She turned her head to the street “There’s an abandoned restaurant about two blocks south of here with a crawl space under it I used to chase rats through. We could hide in there at least until they gather the police dogs.” She gave me that woeful look again. “But honestly, Sport, I don’t think you could make it.”
“I can make it,” I gasped, but my voice broke and my heart wouldn’t slow. In fact, it felt like it wanted very badly to come through my chest.
Mitzi gave me another long look, finally shook her head. “No. They’re too close. If you were still eighteen maybe…”
“I can make it!” I cried. But not a lot of conviction came through my voice.
Then I heard the sound.
Mitzi heard it too but she didn’t bother to turn and look. She’d heard it a long time before it finally reached my lame human ears.
I turned and looked up the long NO PARKING avenue that was State Street. We were surrounded by federal buildings and there weren’t many parked cars. But there was a seething mass of angry citizens sweeping around the corner, ten across and half a block deep. They didn’t look happy.
The only thing distinguishing them from a mob of villagers raging after the monster in Frankenstein was their lack of torches and their loud Hawaiian shirts.
They were yelling in chorus.
And started yelling a lot louder when they spied us.
I turned back to Mitzi, felt my heart sink at her expression: End of the road, pal, it said, nice knowing you…
“Mitzi…”
“Listen, Sparky, I can smell these kinds of events. They aren’t going to ask questions or haul you in. You killed their mayor. They’re going to rip you to pieces and then lynch you from the nearest lamppost and the law is going to stand there and look the other way.”
“Mitzi—“
“Shut up, Ed, and listen! There is a way out of this…”
I backed away reflexively. “I won’t do it…”
She took a sympathetic step toward me. “One little nip--it won’t hurt at all. In fact, it’ll feel pretty good. Even if I’m not through by the time they get here they’ll know what I’m doing. They won’t attack their own kind, Ed. They got good noses too.”
I shook my head. “I won’t become one of them. Besides, even if they spare me they will kill you! You’re an anomaly.”
“Maybe. Maybe you can talk them out of it. At least you’ll be alive.”
I shook my head harder. “No. I won’t do it. I’d become…dead.”
“There are worse things, Ed.”
“Not to me. Or Clancy. She’d never look at me again.”
Mitzi’s next thought was forming in my head when a car came round the corner beside us, turned our way and slowed. A shiny new Lexus. It was between us and the crest of the mob, now about two block away.
“Mr. Sutter--?”
A woman was calling from behind the leather wheel, a half-remembered face. I couldn’t quite place it.
Abigail Portman! Mitzi said in my head. From Alicia’s party?
“Oh…yeah…”
Say hello!
“Miss Portman! Hello!”
The car nosed toward the curb.
“Mr. Sutter! Out walking your dog in this beastly heat?”
“Uh—well…”
Didn’t realize how hot it was!
“Didn’t realize how hot it was going to be today!”
Look pathetic.
I looked pathetic.
“Oh, dear! You’re just dripping, poor thing! Can I give you a lift?”
Thank you, God.
“Thank you, G—Miss Portman, if it wouldn’t be inconvenient!”
Mitzi hopped in the back, I slipped quickly in beside the elderly, smiling face. She set the gear, then looked up at the rearview mirror suddenly. “What’s all the excitement about?”
I think they’re chasing a rabid dog.
“I think it’s some kind of public protest. You didn’t hear?”
Nice!
“Why, no!” Miss Portman declared, stepping on the gas. “What are they protesting?”
Leash law?
“Something about taxes, I think. Probably best to get out of their way…”
Miss Portman pressed the accelerator harder and we shot ahead of the crowd.
“My goodness! They look positively enraged!”
“Yeah. Well, you know taxpayers.”
“Goodness! I’ve been out of town this week, when did all this start?”
Take the next right.
“I’d take t
he next right, Miss Portman, if you want to avoid more crowds.”
“Please, you must call me ‘Abigail.’”
She took the right. It put us on Grand, which would eventually take us to the highway and on east to Kansas City.
Keep her talking.
“Right! So! Good to see you again, Abigail! Been away on business, have you?”
“Oh dear, no, I’m long retired. Visiting an ailing relative, actually, in Lawrence. Heading back that way now, in fact.”
Perfect! Praise the Lord!
Lawrence, Kansas was halfway between Topeka and K.C.
“But, of course, I’ll be glad to drop you at your place first. Uh…where is your place, Mr. Sutter?”
I got nothing…
“It’s…on the other side of town somewhere. But actually—amazing coincidence--I was heading for Lawrence myself! Having my car worked on there.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yeah, been trying to hail a cab but…seems like they won’t allow dogs on board.”
Miss Portman pursed her lips in disapproval. “Oh, that’s awful! Such a sweet-looking little doggy!”
“Thank you.”
She clucked her tongue. “What’s the world coming to?”
I nodded, eyes on the rearview. “Yeah, no one trusts anyone anymore.”
“It’s the Lord’s truth! Well now, you just put your mind to rest! Abigail Portman will be more than glad to chauffeur you to Lawrence town!”
I put on my modest face. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble…”
Don’t push our luck!
“Nonsense! No trouble at all! I’d love the company!”
“Well, that’s very kind. Abigail.”
Relief swept me. I could feel it from Mitzi, too.
Until the sly look came over Abigail Portman’s face. “And if there’s some other reason you should be hurrying out of town on a hot day like this, Mr. Sutter…I shall respect your privacy”
My what? Here came that chill again. “Please, call me ‘Ed.’ Uh…other reason--?”
The sly look remained on Abigail’s thin lips as we passed out of downtown and through the suburbs flanking the highway. I heard distant sirens but they didn’t seem to be coming our way.
“I may be an old woman, Ed, but I’m not senile. Wouldn’t be running away from town now, would you?”
I felt Mitzi tensing in the back seat.
“Running away, Abigail?”
“Don’t be coy now, Ed. I saw the way that lovely Ms. Cummings hustled you out of that horribly dry party at Alicia’s. Has a little place in Lawrence, does Miss Cummings? Or Kansas City, perhaps?”
“Uh…Cummings…Cummings…?”
Just say ‘yes’!
“…well, as a matter of fact…”
Miss Portman laughed. “No need to go into detail! I was young and in love once! And not, I may add, above the occasional affair! She’s a beautiful young lady, Ed.”
“Yes, she--”
“Oh, dear, what’s this, now?”
I looked up as Abigail slowed the big Lexus.
Two police cars were parked nose to nose in the middle of the road ahead. Facing us. Bookending a striped sawhorse.
Shit. Roadblock!
I nodded to Mitzi without turning around.
Two cops left their patrol cars, flagged down the Lexus. Abigail cruised to a stop before them.
The officers sidled unhurriedly toward the Lexus’ front bumper: dark blue uniforms and caps, aviator sunglasses, Topeka Sheriff’s Dept. patches adorning their shoulders, holstered. 45’s riding their hips.
They split apart at the bumper, came round and bent down to opposite side windows.
Abigail levered her ‘down’ button.
The cop on her side smiled down at her. “They give you any trouble, Miss Abigail?”
“Goodness no,” she smiled back.
I turned to find the cop on my side leveling his gun at my temple. “Hands behind your head.” He pulled open my door. “Step out of the vehicle slowly.”
Do what he says, from Mitzi.
“Do I get the five thousand dollar reward now?” Miss Abigail wanted to know.
SIXTEEN
Miss Abigail got out of the car too, did an excited little fanny dance before the gleaming hood. “Do I get to fang him too? I think that should be part of the reward, officers! I mean, I did bring him in all by myself!”
“I’m afraid the city council has a few questions for him first,” the cop said. Then he turned to his partner. “Remember, only shoot him in the leg if he moves. They want him human until after the interrogation. I’m going to call this in.” And he turned toward his patrol car.
“Wait a second!” I called.
He looked over his shoulder. “Well?”
I nodded a smirk. “City council, huh.”
“That’s right.”
“City council and, presumably, the town’s entire police force.”
“That’s about it.”
I shook my head in grudging respect. “Smart. Start at the top, the rich first, the ones in charge, then the police, the enforcers. Work your way down from there?”
“Something like that.” He started back to his car.
“And the rest of the town? How many are you?”
He turned again, shook his head. “Easier to count the remaining humans. You were at the capitol earlier today. How many did you see wearing sunglasses?”
“Lots.”
He smiled. “There you go.” He turned to his car.
And the worst thing? His smile: it held an almost sympathetic edge. That was maybe the most chilling thing at all. Like he was already convinced it wasn’t a matter anymore of if, but when.
“What about my dog?” I called, gesturing toward the back seat. Mitzi was at the side window, watching us.
The cop paused, fingers on the chrome car handle of his patrol car. He shrugged. “Dog pound, I suppose. Not my department.”
“You’re not going to shoot her?”
He gave me an indifferent look. “We’re vampires, Mr. Magee, not barbarians.”
His partner grunted a laugh, gave the other officer a quick sideways look. I thought about grabbing for his gun in that quick instant he was diverted—vetoed the idea, knowing I’d never make it. “Maybe if I you were still eighteen,” I thought…
“Well I think it only right I should be the first to fang him!” from an insistent Miss Abigail.
The cop opened his car door, grinned at her. “I’ll put in a word for you, Miss Portman.”
And he burst into flames.
You’ve heard of spontaneous combustion. That’s a myth. An urban legend.
This wasn’t.
One moment he was a fairly nice-looking young man in uniform, the next there was that whooshing sound like a gas oven being turned on and he was a fireball. The heat was so intense I could feel it across my face from twenty feet away.
Despite his ungodly screams and the fact he was clearly blinded by the engulfing blanket of flames, his mind must have made some nascent connection between the fire and the sun, for he tried to shove his bulk inside the car to be out of it. I saw my chance and leapt.
I slammed the still-open door and caught his torched body between it and the chassis, a bullet whining past my ear as I did like an angry insect. The heat from the shrieking vampire was now so intense it was like a hand pushing me away. I shielded my face, staggered back, saw the second cop take careful aim again from the corner of my eye, Mitzi barking and leaping in a frenzy against the Lexus’ back window, trying to get her teeth around the door handle. Then, as he squeezed the trigger, the second officer just seemed to explode.
It came with such force the heat expansion skyrocketed his .45 skyward like a 4th of July aerial bomb. It arced overhead, dropped lazily and landed on the dirt shoulder between me and Miss Abigail.
She got to it before I did. Faster than anyone human could move.
“Son of a bitch”! she cried, e
lderly decorum abruptly departed; she aimed the pistol at me and fired. I leapt sideways, heard the round zing over my head, looked up to see Miss Abigail explode out of her dress. Bit of material rained down around me, actually un-singed from the impact.
Poor naked Miss Portman began running with unearthly speed everywhere at once, like a bug on hot tin. Screaming, screaming. It almost verged on the comical until she began flailing dangerously close to the Lexus’s gas tank. I picked up the gun and put all six rounds through her. Even so, she kept racing around the street, a shrieking torch, until the blackened sticks of her legs crumpled and she collapsed in a shallow pool of rain water. I thought for a mad moment it might put her out but it didn’t. She crawled, shrieking mouth a red, raw maw now, along the ground a few yards, pulling herself by her arms before vanishing mercifully in a sudden white whuff.
I raced to the patrol cars, tore the radio cords out of both, ran back to the Lexus and jumped behind the wheel, tromping the pedal. We peeled rubber most of the way to the access ramp, shot up it and onto the highway to Kansas City.
“What the hell--?” Mitzi exclaimed, leaping into the seat beside me.
I sat frozen at the wheel, adhered to it, foot pressed mindlessly to the floor, shaking all over like a schoolgirl. “I don’t know, I don’t know! The only thing I can think is it had to have been that lotion! You must have gotten a squirt or two in that vat after all!”
Mitzi watched me in awe; everything moving so fast. “Do you think that’s possible?”
I concentrated on the highway ahead, still pressing hard on the accelerator. “At this point I don’t even care! Piss on the blood-sucking bastards!”
Mitzi panted happily at the windshield. “Well…I guess that’s what I did!”
That made me smile. And then I was laughing. Too loud, I think, and too hard.
After a moment Mitzi looked over at me soberly. “Take it easy, Sport. Let’s don’t crack up now. And I’d lay off with the heavy foot—last thing we need is a speeding ticket now.”
I eased off the pedal as we flew past a posted 65 mph at 85.
“I think we’re okay, I gasped, “the cops burned up before they could radio in and the old lady—nobody even knew she was there.”
“We don’t know that, Eddie, not for sure.”
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