by David Wright
Yet, even as John condemned Mathews, he realized his hypocrisy in judging the man. They were both killers. The difference, at least in John’s eyes, was that his goal was righteous and true — to save Hope. Mathews’ goal seemed like nothing less than a blatant power grab.
No sense in beating myself up. We’re here.
They arrived at Mathews’ house at 12:16 a.m.
John was still in the van when disappointment slapped him hard in the face.
“Shit,” he said. “Mathews isn’t here.”
“You sure?” Larry asked.
John said, “Nobody in there but a sleeping dog.”
“What now?”
“Now, Plan B.” John said.
“I fucking hate Plan B,” Larry said, even though he didn’t yet have a clue what Plan B was. Didn’t matter, Larry was right. John was certain he would hate it.
**
Larry
“This is a bad idea,” Larry repeated all the way to The Port Hole, a dive bar in the seediest part of the city.
“This is the only way,” John had said.
Larry waited in his van, idling in the parking lot, located in a large field between The Port Hole and a fairly popular seafood joint, meaning there were plenty of parked cars to blend in with. Lightning flashed overhead, the flickers accompanied by a deep roll of angry thunder.
A storm is coming — a shit storm.
The plan was for John to show up at the bar as if he’d just freed himself from Shadow and his men, and would call Mathews to request extraction. From there, John would attack as soon as he could, discover Hope’s location, then they’d go rescue her.
That was the plan, but as evidenced earlier at Cromwell’s, and Tiny’s subsequent death, plans were made for getting blown to shit. Larry waited for nearly 20 minutes before he saw an Agency van gliding black on black through the parking lot, followed by a second, and then a third.
Oh shit, Mathews didn’t come alone.
“Hey, boss, you got a fucking party pulling up outside,” Larry said into his mic.
“Who is it?”
“Men in black. I think they’re Omega, but fuck if the good guys and bad guys aren’t dressing the same these days. They’ve got guns, lots of ‘em.”
“Thanks,” John said. “Cutting radio now. Over.”
Larry kept his headset on, just in case, and trained his binoculars on the front door as the men stormed inside the bar. He wondered if any of the men were Mike Mathews. Moments later, several of the men in black emerged, shoving a man in a black hood in front of them, out the door at gunpoint — John.
Shit, shit!
Larry watched as they shoved John into the back of a van and slammed the doors. All the men jumped back into their vehicles.
Fuck, shit, fuck!
Larry keyed the ignition and peeled from the parking lot, chasing the vans as they headed off.
“I’m coming, John!” Larry screamed, hoping his friend could hear him, either through his earpiece or their mental connection.
Larry was driving fast, following the red lights as the sky opened and rain began to pelt the van in thick sheets.
“Really?” Larry said looking up at the invisible deity in the sky. “Really, G?”
Larry followed at a distance as the vans continued down the main avenue. There were three, their taillights the only thing visible through the thick sheets of rain blurring Larry’s windshield.
Larry sighed as he was forced to decrease his speed beneath the pounding rain. His windshield was a blanket of white, headlights bouncing straight into the rain and then reflecting back.
The red lights ahead were gaining distance and sending Larry into a panic. There were too many side roads, and the vans could turn off at any moment. If that happened, he would be fucked.
Larry sped up, trying to make sure he didn’t lose Omega. The speedometer said he was going 65 in a 50 zone. That gave him two things to worry about: feds, and cops.
Come on, come on, where are you?
He leaned closer to the steering wheel, straining to see through the whipping sheets of blinding rain. Suddenly, he spotted red, both low and high — a red light, and three vans, one in each lane, all stopped. The road was too slick for Larry to slam on his brakes without flipping the van, but if he slammed into a van going as fast as he was, he probably wouldn’t walk away from the crash.
With only a second to think of his next move, Larry swerved into the opposite lanes, flying past the three vans and into the intersection, praying nobody was in the cross traffic as his van sped through, sliding.
Oh, God; oh, God;oh, God!
The van made it through, miraculously without leaving the road, and he hit the brake pedal the moment he had decelerated enough. His eyes looked to the rearview to see if he’d drawn the agents’ attention. He had. Headlights from the vans on the right and left turned onto the cross street, one going east and the other west, while the third continued straight behind him.
Shit, which one is he in?
“Where you at, Johnny?” he asked to no response.
Larry watched as the van’s headlights approached in his rearview, following for sure. Larry smiled as the van drew closer.
“Come on, bitches, just a little, ah, there we go!”
Larry slammed on his brakes, causing the van to crash into his rear. Larry grabbed his gun, hopped out of the van, raced up to the black van behind him, saw the driver, and whoever was sitting in the front passenger seat, both struggling with their crash bags which were taking their sweet time to deflate.
Larry raised his pistol, fired three shots through the glass, and hit both men in the head. He raced around to the back of the van, hoping like hell it wasn’t loaded with more gunmen.
He pulled on the door handle and pulled it open to an empty cargo hold.
“Fuck!” Larry yelled. John was in one of the other two vans.
He raced back to the front seat, reached over the dead agent, grabbed his radio, and took it back to his van so he could listen in the off chance they’d surrender John’s location.
The rain began to fall harder.
* * * *
CHAPTER 6 — Abigail
Abigail stared at Katya, about to tell her everything when another voice bled again into her brain — the girl vampire, Talani, who she hadn’t heard from since the fire.
“Don’t tell her,” the girl said. “You can’t tell her.”
Stay out of my head. Stop spying on me.
“She won’t understand you, Abi. Humans never understand us.”
Stop it — she’s not like the others.
“Are you all right?” Katya had been looking at her strangely, now she was looking at Abigail with growing discomfort.
Abigail shook her head, trying to push Talani away. Talani had just appeared in Abigail’s head, as if she’d been there all along, watching and listening. Waiting. It unnerved her. Abigail didn’t want people eavesdropping on her thoughts, or her life.
Get out!
“Are you okay?” Katya repeated.
“I need to tell you something,” Abigail said.
Talani’s voice spoke again, demanding, “Don’t do it.”
Abigail ignored the warning. “It’s bad.”
“What is it?” Katya said, stepping closer, eyes almost haunted by concern.
“I’m a monster.”
“What?” Katya said, laughing like Abigail just delivered the punch line to a corny kid’s joke.
“I’m a vampire, to be precise, but not the kind from books and movies.” Abigail pushed through the words despite Talani shouting protests in her head.
Katya stared at her. The smile on her face was a stretched out shirt, awkwardly draped from its hanger. “Ha-ha, Abigail. Seriously, what do you want to tell me?”
“That’s it,” Abigail said. “I’m a vampire. And I kill through touch. Which is why I wear gloves and cover myself when I’m around people who might accidentally touch me. That spark betwee
n us, that was it. There’s a parasite inside me. It feeds off of other people.”
Katya stepped forward, still smiling, “Don’t be silly, Abigail. You’re not a — ” she reached out to touch Abigail’s hand as if to prove her point.
No!!
Abigail suddenly did something she’d never done — something she’d seen John do to Larry, but had never tried herself. Without meaning to, only from thinking it, like instinct, she shoved Katya back with a blast of energy, across the kitchen, so fast and hard that Katya’s head slammed into one of the cabinet doors with a sickening crack.
Katya cried out as Abigail fell to the kitchen floor, weak and wobbly, waiting to regain her strength.
Katya sat across the kitchen from Abigail, burnt hand on her head, looking like she’d been roughed up. Their eyes met, in that meeting, Katya realized Abigail was not joking.
“You were telling the truth?” Katya said, holding her spot on the floor.
“Yes,” Abigail said softly, ashamed.
“How? How is it even possible?”
“It’s a long story,” Abigail said. “And if you didn’t believe the ending, you certainly won’t believe the beginning.”
“Try me,” Katya said.
Abigail let it all out — the everything she’d been stuffing inside for a year, and even before then. She told Katya about her parents dying, her uncle Frank selling her, and her abuse at the hands of Randy Webster. Katya listened intently, saying all the right things, and offering something Abigail had never had — a female she could turn to for support.
Crying softened pressure on Abigail’s soul.
Outside, rain began to pelt the windows, and with it, Abigail surrendered to more tears. She shuddered with relief that there was finally someone in the world who understood her, or at least willing to listen to the splinters of a calloused life. She sobbed and spoke more, until she finally finished a thousand pounds lighter.
“Wow,” Katya said, sitting just two feet across from her on the floor. She looked like she wanted to hug Abigail, to offer comfort, but now knew better. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry you’ve gone through so much.”
“You believe me, then?” Abigail asked.
“Yes,” Katya nodded.
Abigail fell into a fresh heave. Her head throbbed, and it felt like she was floating in an ocean, out of control.
“I don’t feel so good,” she said, trying to stand.
Halfway up, Abigail fell to the floor, hands and elbows breaking her fall with a jolt of pain to her brain. “Call Larry,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Katya stood, ran into the living room where she’d left the phone, dialing on her way back into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” she asked Abigail.
Abigail couldn’t talk, though. She felt weak and empty. Her eyes closed, plunging her world to black. Her ears begged for scraps, though every sound felt like it was happening beneath a turbulent sea.
Katya said, “Larry, it’s Katya. Something’s wrong with Abigail! She’s lying on the floor and is passed out! I don’t know what to do! I know about her real condition. Call me, please!”
“I called him, but he didn’t answer. I left a voice mail,” she said to Abigail.
Abigail blinked her eyes back to open. Everything was a blur. She remembered John at the hotel after he’d blasted Larry, and how weak he had become.
What was it Larry said? Oh yeah … that John was starving and when he woke, he would attack anyone or anything he saw.
Oh, no.
The hunger stirred within Abigail. The Darkness within, uncoiling, wanting to reach out for Katya.
Abigail opened her mouth, “Go,” she said.
Katya leaned down, “What, Abi?”
Abigail felt Katya’s warmth, life beckoning like garlic frying in oil.
No, no, no, not Katya.
“Run,” she said, or thought she did. The truth was haze as she faded in and out. Every time she opened her eyes, Katya was somewhere else in the kitchen. Every step echoed loudly, as if caroming between canyon walls.
Go, get out.
Talani was back.
“You must feed, Abigail, or you will die.”
No. I’m not killing her.
“You’ll die, Abigail. You don’t have much time. I can feel you weakening.”
I don’t care. No more death.
“Take her, Abigail. She’s exactly what you need. Look at her — she’s lived a happy life. Think of all the miserable people you’ve killed. How much of their pain you’ve soaked like a sponge. Feeding on her will bring you happiness.”
No! She’s my friend.
“You really think she can be friends with you? Look at her, Abigail. Look at her long and hard and tell me you don’t see fear staring at you. She will never see you the same way after tonight. Trust me. Your friendship is over. She’s scared of you.”
Abigail opened her eyes, and saw Katya standing at a distance, but couldn’t see more than a blur.
“You’re going to die, Abigail. Get up now. Feed!”
No. I’m not killing her.
“She’s not your friend. You can’t be friends with humans. They don’t understand you. They can’t understand you. Look inside her mind and you will see yourself as she sees you. You will see a monster.”
Shut up.
Abigail tried to stand, but fell again. Katya rushed over. “I’m calling an ambulance,” she said.
“You can’t,” Abigail tried to reply, but couldn’t open her mouth. She shook her head no, put the phone down.
If an ambulance came, she was dead. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. Either they’d discover what she was, or she’d be found by Omega, or she’d be passed out in a hospital bed when the morning sun rose and she burst into flames.
No, no.
“You can’t call!” Abigail cried out to Katya’s back. Katya was either ignoring her or didn’t hear her, or maybe she wasn’t in the room. It was so hard to know up from down when seeing nothing but fog.
Katya’s blur went in and out of focus, long enough for Abigail to see her finish dialing. She put the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” Katya said.
No!
Abigail sent another burst from her body. The phone flew from Katya’s hand and crashed to the floor where Abigail heard it shatter across the tile.
Katya screamed, and in that scream, Abigail heard it — the fear Talani warned of.
“She’s afraid of you. How can she be friends with you when she’ll always think you’re going to kill her?”
I’m not going to kill her.
“I have an idea, Abigail ... ”
The voice held its pause, then:
“You don’t have to kill her. There is another way.”
Abigail was silent, waiting for more.
“You can partially feed from her, then turn her. You can save your life, and turn her into one of us. Then you two could be friends forever, if you wanted.”
Abigail smiled, or thought she did. It was so hard to tell.
She loved that idea. Abigail thought of Katya playing her pretty song again. Maybe she could even teach her to play guitar.
What if Katya doesn’t want to be turned? Who am I to decide?
“Who wouldn’t want immortality? She’ll thank you. Trust me. You know I’m right.”
I don’t know how to do it.
“I’ll show you, Abigail. Just get up and go to her before it’s too late.”
Abigail lifted her head, opened her eyes, so heavy, and saw Katya standing over her, looking down.
Their eyes met.
“Do it, Abi. Now!”
Abigail reached out, catching Katya’s hand as she tried pulling away. Their eyes locked.
Energy coursed through Abigail, along with a flood of happy memories —
Katya’s childhood spent with her doting father; a puppy she once had named Laika, after the first dog Russia sent into space, a dog which had sadly died;
and dozens more memories, all like warm sunshine melting chocolate through her body.
Abigail tried to find Talani’s voice in the current.
Help me turn her.
Talani was silent.
Oh God. Help me, Talani!
Nothing.
Oh no, no, no!
Abigail tried to break the current, but it was too late. She was riding it, high, drowning in the girl’s energy and memories.
Katya was small, fresh from Ukraine. No friends in America, yet, so her father helped her meet some at Embassy Park, swinging and playing until they nudged their play into a circle of children.
Katya was 12 and self-conscious, smaller than her peers. Then, from nowhere, she was 14 and several inches longer, from too few to too many, she was again as awkward as when she couldn’t get English on her tongue. But still, she made friends with a girl named Rosa. They were good friends and spent a lot of time together. Sleepovers, going to the mall, and a hundred other things that normal girls did, which Abigail would never know.
Then Abigail was forced to stare into the worst memory, seeing how much Katya had cared for her, pacing her carpet for hours of worry when she left Abigail with Larry after they returned from the restaurant, then lying in bed for several more, flipping her body like a pancake on the mattress, over and over. Something in Katya loved the little girl who seemed so beautifully big inside.
Abigail fell away, the ride finally finished. When she opened her eyes and saw Katya’s ashen flesh, eyes open and sockets burned to black. Nothing left of her only friend.
She stared, lips trembling.
Oh God, what have I done?
Abigail screamed.
* * * *
CHAPTER 7 — Larry
Larry drove for a half hour before he thought to check his phone. He brought the screen into view, saw the red number on the green icon, then tapped it and listened to Katya’s voicemail.
I hope nothing’s wrong.
The pit in his stomach, deep and brimmed with acid, said otherwise.