Nocturnal

by Mark Allen

  “He’s a Marine,” Law replied. “He’s at summer camp, compared to some of the places he’s been.”

  “Is he scared? Did he talk? Did he name names? Do you think he’ll talk later?”

  “You know what he was doing when I came in? Toying with them. Infuriating them. He was running counter-interrogation techniques, trying to get them to lose control.”

  Oakley’s respect for Valdez ticked up a notch.

  Law glanced over at the next table. A young woman straddled her male partner, eased herself down, and began having deep intercourse with him. Law swallowed hard as his heart rate increased. He felt an unaccustomed stirring between his legs.

  Shaken, he looked back at Oakley. “The only truthful thing he said was that he was knocked out early on, and it was all over before he came to.”

  Oakley stared at Law a moment. He knew the lawyer was too afraid of him to lie. And with good reason. Oakley would have no problem with showing up at the lawyer’s house some night. He could kill him and his entire kill his family: the wife, the live–in maid, both kids, even the goddamned dog! And then he could burn their house to the ground, cover his tracks, and sleep like a baby the next day.

  “So,” Oakley sighed, “you’re saying we have nothing to worry about from Rudy Valdez.”

  Law nodded, finished his water.

  “What about arraignment?”

  “I called a judge friend of mine,” Law stated. “He pressured the D.A. to send someone to lockup tomorrow morning. It’ll take about an hour.”

  Oakley nodded. His eyes glided over the crowds, moved left, froze for an instant, then darted back to the right. He zeroed in.

  In the distance, at the far edge of the dance floor, stood The Predator. He stood casually, eyeing Oakley while leaning against a support beam that kept the building from toppling down upon everyone in the club. Arms crossed, each hand cupping the opposite elbow, legs crossed at the ankle. Not a threatening stance, just one that said everything that needed saying: they were hunters in a world of the hunted. They knew of each others’ presence and proximity.

  Finally, The Predator smiled a crooked little smile, one corner turning upwards. He nodded. Subtle. Practically imperceptible. Without really thinking about it, Oakley gave him an uptick of the head, a nod in return.

  Professional courtesy.

  Law reached out and put his hand on Oakley’s arm, startling him. “What?” He blinked at the attorney.

  “I said, are you all right?” Law repeated.

  “Yeah, sure,” he responded. He looked back to where the other nameless predator had been standing. Naturally, he had disappeared by now.

  Law nodded his acknowledgement. He stood up, grabbed the cowhide leather briefcase he’d been clutching since he came in. He did not even say goodbye to Oakley. He simply walked away as briskly an out of shape lawyer who hadn’t seen the inside of a gym since high school could.

  Oakley sat back against the cushions, cleared his throat, and casually sipped from his drink. He intently scanned the room once more, looking for the fellow he had seen twice now. There was no mistake. Two killers in the same club, on the same night. What significance did this have?

  After scanning the room three times, Oakley was convinced he had not seen him again. The pathway to the stairs to his right had cleared a bit. The stairway itself was sparsely populated with people. One Goth girl squatted in front of her male partner, who leaned against the wall, gazing upwards, his eyes opening and closing, breathing hard. The back and forth bobbing movement of her head left Oakley with no doubt as to what she was doing down there.

  Oakley glanced at the room and to his left one more time. Though he was not afraid of any man, he felt it prudent to avoid a confrontation in a public place like FETISH.

  Confident he was safe, Oakley got up from the booth. He looked around again quickly, one hand casually behind his back, near his handgun. He turned to his right and strode forward.

  Glancing to his left and to his right, mindful of a rear attack, he made his way towards the stairs. He saw the handrail rising at an angle towards street level. A last glance backwards assured him he was not being followed. He reached out for the handrail at the bottom of the stairs. He rounded the corner and began his steady, controlled ascent upwards towards the streets, and way from FETISH.

  If he never came back here, it would be just fine with Rick Oakley.

  From the shadows where he could not be seen, the vampire watched the Dangerous Man leave. He sat on a bare wooden chair in the slightly damp concrete-walled corner. Arms and legs crossed, jacket collar turned up to minimize his silhouette, the vampire peeked out over the top of his jacket, exposing only his forehead and eyes.

  He had known instantly, even from a distance, upon seeing the other guy that he was a Dangerous Man. Not just someone who thought he was badass, mind you. This human was the real deal, and the vampire knew it. It emanated off of him like perverted heat waves. It was plain as day for anyone to see, if they only paid attention.

  And pay attention the vampire did.

  That is why he allowed the Dangerous Man to see him twice. He wanted the DM to know that he was not the only creature on the prowl this night. But the DM was not his designated target here, oh no. Not that the vampire was not intrigued. This was precisely the type of prey that invigorated the vampire the most.

  But there was so much easier prey in abundance here, all equally as deserving of the vampire’s hatred. Perhaps more so. And most of them all to eager eager to be led into an ambush as only he could set.

  Behind his sunglasses, his eyes shifted, scanning the crowd. He had seen a couple of people that had sparked his interest, but they were passing fancies, nothing more. But time beginning to become a factor. The club would be forced to close in a couple of hours.

  A new emanation caught his attention. He did not move his head, but his eyes darted to the right. On the other side of the small dance floor, two men, a “Mutt and Jeff” combo that made the vampire smile to himself, both dressed like wannabe TV vampires – all leather, studs, long hair, white makeup, dark circles around the eyes – stood side by side, looking in his general direction. The tall one was more muscular, heavier. Outwardly, he appeared to be a typical alpha male. But it was Slight One, standing beside him that caught the vampire’s eye.

  Blonde hair an impossible yellow, gelled and spiked to ridiculous extremes, soft pale skin, thin lips, the Slight One stood a good six inches shorter than Alpha Boy. A black cape draped across the back of his narrow shoulders. Evil wafted off him like black heat. The Slight One’s gaze finally fell on the vampire, and came to rest there.

  Alpha Boy was looking off in another direction. He moved away, as if to walk towards the bar, but Slight One stopped him without a word. He simply reached out from underneath the draping cape, touched the back of Alpha Boy’s wrist, and shook his head. Alpha Boy was immediately brought back into tow, and this subtle exchange told the vampire everything he needed to know.

  Game on.

  The vampire uncoiled himself. With neither worry nor hurry, he planted his feet flat on the deck and stood up from his chair. Outwardly, he made no movement to indicate he was aware of the pair, much less that he had targeted them both for death. He moved at an angle, not only so he could keep them in his line of sight, but so they would not lose him in the crowd.

  He planned to do some reading before sunrise, so the vampire devised a plan for a quick kill. The bathrooms were situated behind where the pair stood. Beyond that, a narrow hallway lead to an emergency exit required by the city’s Fire Code. The exit opened into a small concrete rectangle, oblong, boasting a set of concrete steps and old iron handrail going upward to ground level and emptying into the filthy alley.

  The vampire grinned. This should be fun.

  He ambled leisurely in their direction, moving his head, slipping past people. As he approached them, he glanced directly at them. The Slight One puffed out his thin, Whippet-like chest, curled his
lip downward, and nodded with an uptick of his head. The vampire walked by like they were nothing.

  The hallway leading to the rear was so narrow two people would have difficulty getting past each other. Inadequate track lighting provided sketchy illumination. Tape lighting, the plastic and LED pin lights type often used in modern movie theaters to line the floors and stairs for safety, back past the bathrooms to the rear exit.

  Slight One and Alpha Boy watched the stranger careen down the hallway, occasionally putting a hand to a wall for support. Slight One grinned to himself. On wobbly legs like that, the guy’s obviously had too much to drink. He looked up at Alpha Boy, who bent down so he could whisper something into his ear.

  Down the hall, the vampire spun ninety degrees to his right. Before him stood a dark recess in the wall. Within the recess, which was only about four feet deep by maybe six or seven feet wide, resided the two bathroom entrances. Men to the left, women to the right. Of course, in FETISH, these bourgeois gender delineations were only for the benefit of the County Health inspectors. Such trivialities were only partially and then only marginally, adhered to. The vampire launched himself forward, into the recess. He leaned left, aimed at the Men’s room door.

  As soon as the stranger disappeared from their view, Alpha Boy moved forward, flexing his muscles. Full sleeve tattoos rippled as if alive. A girl, thin and sickly, all red leather with black trim, staggered down one side of the hallway. She turned her shoulders to nudge past him against the wall. He allowed her to pass without so much as a second glance. He never had much use for girls, anyway.

  He dug his fingers into the shallow pocket on the front of his pants. He found what he was looking for, two small sharp objects he enjoyed using in these situations. He pulled him out, glanced down at the fake vampire fangs cradled in his palm. He expertly popped them into his mouth, pushing them into place over each of his own canine teeth. He ran his tongue over them, making sure they were in place.

  They were.

  He burst through the Men’s room door forcefully, whacking the door against the wall with a loud THWACK! He stepped through the doorway, all menace and concentration. His eyes darted around the enclave, searching.

  A lavatory hovered in the left corner, unused. An ancient, moderately rusted metal towel dispenser sprung out from the left wall. To the right, along the far wall hung the trough urinal. Porcelain poured over and iron core, the urinal was approximately six feet long by eighteen inches wide and another eighteen inches deep. Standing shoulder to shoulder, men pissed into it without any privacy It floated approximately two and half feet off the filthy floor, held up by metal grommets and the attached plumbing, which piped into the plaster wall behind.

  Alpha Boy did not see his quarry. He stepped deeper into the crowded bathroom. Farther to his right, the three narrow toilet stalls squatted. One of them had lost its hinged swinging door at some point in history. Inside, A young man sat on the toilet, and a young woman, short and plump, sat, straddling his pelvis and facing him. Their arms wrapped around each other, they kissed deeply, passionately. They were oblivious to anything else around them.

  The other two stalls still possessed doors. Both were closed. Unsure what to do, he hesitated, considered checking the Women’s bathroom next door. Self doubt and fear of failure crept up his spine as the moments ticked by. He wavered, took a step back.

  The last stall door opened and the stranger came striding out. He ignored the men at the urinal as he passed them. Alpha Boy almost shuddered with relief. The stranger, thin and intense, approached him as he stood near the doorway. His massive body effectively blocking the exit, Alpha Boy did not move.

  The stranger stopped in front of him. “Get out of my way.”

  Startled at the intensity of the snarling command, Alpha Boy moved without thinking it through. The stranger shouldered past him without another word. Alpha Boy frowned, anger taking hold in his dull brain. He turned and followed the stranger out.

  Outside the bathroom in the hallway and glanced towards the main club. His companion was there, glaring in his direction. Alpha Boy’s head snapped around in the opposite direction. The snapping motion sent his dark hair flying out from his head. He saw the stranger moving towards the emergency exit.

  Emergency exit, huh? I’ll give him an emergency.

  He lumbered down the hallway after his quarry. He saw the stranger hit the heavy metal door and fling it open. He was surprised with the ease with which such a small guy could throw his weight around. The stranger looked back over his shoulder at Alpha Boy, grinned, then disappeared outside, the door slamming behind him.

  Alpha Boy hit the door seconds later. He pushed against the metal bar, and heaved the door open, spilling outside. The cold damp fog of the night kissed his face and neck. It was colder now than when he had first arrived. He glanced around, and stopped as the door closed behind him.

  The stranger stood waiting for him, several feet away. His shoulders squared, hands at his sides, feet wide apart. Back straight, head up, eyes forward. Completely unafraid.

  Ready for battle.

  The vampire knew this was the best place to take care of business and not be seen. The steps behind him led to the alley. His fallback position, should he need it. Anything could happen in the heat of battle.

  The metal door banged open again. The Slight One strode through. Behind him, the vampire could hear the music, smell the sex, sense the desperation and despair inside. The door clanged closed, cutting those distractions off.

  “You know, my friend and I have been coming to this club for over a year,” the Slight One said. He nodded towards Alpha Boy and walked a slow diagonal line, angled so he could see the vampire unobstructed. “We’ve never seen you here. Have we?”

  Alpha Boy pursed his lips, shook his head.

  “Why is that?” the Slight One asked.

  The vampire said nothing.

  “Now you see, that’s just rude,” Slight One said, “ignoring me like that. My friend doesn’t like it.”

  Alpha Boy flexed his muscles, pushed his chest out, shoulders back.

  “Is this slab of beef supposed to scare me?”

  Slight One smiled. “There you go again being impolite. Chester – “ Alpha Boy looked his way – “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

  Chester, formerly known as Alpha Boy, puffed his chest out and drew himself up to his full height. He opened his mouth and threw his head back, exposing his fake fangs, plastic implants over his real canines. He hissed and spit like all those bullshit vampires in all those bullshit movies.

  Unimpressed, the vampire stifled a laugh. “Cute.”

  Chester lunged forward, fully committed to a ferocious attack. The vampire lithely stepped aside and twisted around, punching his attacker hard in the side of the head. The impact sent the off-balance Chester to the dirty concrete like a sack of bricks. Chester bounced his head on the pavement as the vampire took a step back.

  “That all you got, Chester?” The vampire sounded disappointed.

  Chester, shocked, pushed himself up from the pavement, brushed off the front of his shirt. He glanced at Slight One, who seemed genuinely shocked by what had just happened. He punched at the Stranger, who ducked, bobbed, and sidestepped once, twice, three times. He did it easily, all grace and style.

  “Chester, Chester, Chester,” the vampire shook his head. “I had hoped for more from you. Give me something to work with here, will you? Make this interesting for me.”

  Frustrated, Chester grimaced and screamed. He hauled back and threw a punch that would have broken bone if it had landed on a fellow human. But that is not what happened. He threw the punch, his hand thrusting outward from his body, at the end of his arm, traveling straight and true, a flesh – covered sledgehammer.

  It suddenly, incredibly, came to an immediate stop.

  Then a nuclear burst of pain, bright and white and beyond understanding, blinded him.

  The vampire had caught the last punch in mid swi
ng with one hand. He gripped Chester’s lower forearm with is other hand and applied massive pressure and a downward, wrenching movement, efficiently snapping three bones in Chester’s wrist.

  Chester’s eyes bulged in terror and agony. His mouth fell open, his useless fangs mere novelty store trickery.

  The vampire kicked Chester hard in the back of leg, sending the big monkey down to one knee. Further twisting the wrist with one hand, the vampire quickly moved behind Chester’s now helpless mass of muscles. He reached around with his free hand and grabbed Chester’s esophagus at the front of his throat underneath the jaw. His thumbnail pressed inward on one side, the other four fingers pressing down on the other. Sharp fingernails, almost to the point of qualifying as claws, indenting the skin, threatened to draw blood at any second.

  The vampire looked up at Slight One, who stood still, shock and fear covering his face. Slight One, trembling, looked helplessly at Chester, tried to choke out some words. He failed.

  The vampire roughly gripped down on Chester’s esophagus, until his fingertips touched behind the windpipe, deep in the neck. The claws punctured the skin, knives through tender flesh. Blood spilled down Chester’s neck and onto his chest.

  Blood vessels ruptured in Chester’s pleading eyes as his oxygen – deprived face quickly deepened from red to purple. The vampire twisted with a savage grunt and rent outward, ripping the esophagus out completely, rupturing both carotid arteries, and pulling out supporting musculature in the process. It sounded like wet sackcloth being torn.

  Arterial blood spewed six feet.

  Slight One’s eyes popped large, his mouth dropped open in an attempt to scream. All that came out of his mouth was a small, high-pitched wail, like a puppy suddenly afraid of the dark. He watched in disbelief as the blood continued to gush and gurgle out of the grapefruit – sized hole in Chester’s neck. He saw the stranger, still behind Chester, holding the mass of red, wet tissue high and out to the right, carefully avoiding the spraying crimson from Chester’s rapidly dying body. The vampire then tossed the dripping neck tissue aside and roughly pushed Chester forward, away from him. Chester was dead by the time his nose and front teeth broke against the pavement.