by Mark Allen
They would most certainly never leave this house alive.
“Evening, Oakley.”
“Evening, Officer.”
“Grandma. You okay?”
“I asked them to leave,” she replied. “They refused.”
“I got nothing against your Grandmother,” Oakley said. “I got no reason to kill her.”
“Then let her go. Your beef is with me.”
“Can’t. Not yet. I need her as leverage to make sure you play nice.”
Reggie glanced behind them, beyond them. A large arched passageway lead directly from the living room into the dining room, and on to the kitchen. The very same kitchen where Horn would now most assuredly be hiding, waiting to emerge at just the right moment.
Now would be a good time.
“What makes you think I’ll do what you want?” Reggie asked, trying to stall.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll be forced to kill Grandma – no offense ma’am.”
Grandma Lottie bristled.
“And you think killing her will make me more compliant?”
“Something has to,” Oakley answered. “You don’t want to die alone, do you?”
Reggie grinned. “What makes you think I’m alone?” He craned his neck and called out: “Captain. Horn!”
A groan escaped from the darkness beyond. Oakley and his team turned their heads, unconcerned. The sound of feet shuffling, then Horn, bloodied, defeated, unarmed and with his hands atop his head, materialized out of the shadows, being followed closely by someone else.
Reggie took his eye away from his gun sights. His face fell in shock. Then he stared down the barrel through the front sights once more.
Horn shuffled further into the room, into the light. Behind him, using Horn’s girth as a human shield, walked Special Agent Walt Coulter. His eyes were on Reggie; Horn’s own firearm was in his hand, pointed at the back of Horn’s head.
“Sorry, Reggie,” Walt said.
“How much they paying you?”
“Enough to take early retirement. My paperwork went through yesterday.”
Reggie glared at him with open contempt. “So it’s just about money?”
“Of course,” Coulter said, careful to stay behind Horn. “Nothing’s been the same since 2007. The stock market came back, but not the economy. Not really. I’ve got to think about the rest of my life.”
“As opposed to the lives of your men?”
Coulter did not answer.
“As you can see, we seem to be holding all the cards,” Oakley said.
As if on cue, a shuffling bump, like someone running their knee into a nightstand, came from above, on the second floor.
“You think so?” Reggie asked.
Oakley leaned close to Lottie. “Miss Lottie, you told me no one else lived here with you.”
“No one else does.”
“Then what just happened upstairs?”
“I don’t know.”
H motioned for Tim the Bodyguard to investigate.
Tim moved quickly but unhurriedly around the perimeter of the room and stopped at the bottom of the narrow, angled stairway. He pointed his weapon upwards towards the top of the stairs, listened. He lightly put one foot on the staircase, then another. In perfect shooting position, he slowly ascended the stairs until he disappeared from their view.
In the few seconds of silence that followed, everyone simply stared at each other. Then the night was torn asunder: a brief staccato of automatic weapons fire, a man’s high-pitched scream cut short, then a sound resembling the loud tearing of wet cloth. And then...
Silence.
A thin rivulet of blood appeared, pouring over the edge of the top stair they could see. It dripped down the stained wallpaper, diffusing into the tired fabric. The rivulet became thicker, redder, began spilling over and onto the floor with an audible sound.
Everyone with the exception of Reggie seemed to be in shock.
Slow, steady footsteps sounded across the boards upstairs. Ronald raised his weapon to fire. Oakley motioned for him to stand down. Ronald obeyed.
Footsteps at the top of the stairs.
“Grandma, I’m getting you out of here.”
Footsteps sounding again, this time descending the stairs.
“Don’t worry about me, Reginald,” she said bravely. “I’m not afraid to meet my maker.”
The vampire, bloodless skin, lank hair, black sunglasses, dark shirt and slacks, London Fog overcoat, glided down the stairway and into the room. He reached up with both hands, popped the collar on his coat.
“Don’t be so quick to die just yet, Lot-Lot.”
Reggie watched Grandma Lottie as the vampire slowly came into full view. He saw surprise on her face, heard her gasp. But she was not afraid of him. It was something else, something.... then it hit him.
She recognized him.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted as he extended his arms out away from his body, “I am not carrying a firearm.”
Oakley said, “Light him up.”
Ronald brought his weapon up and fired a short, contained burst. The weapon belched fire, bullets impacting the vampire full in the chest. He staggered back and fell heavily to the floor.
“Hey. GQ Dude,” Oakley taunted what he thought was a dead human, “you’re supposed to bring a gun to a gunfight.” He began to chuckle.
Ronald joined in.
Even Coulter smiled.
They stopped abruptly when the corpse sprung up from the floor and onto his feet in one quick movement. He pointed at Ronald, livid.
“This was a four hundred dollar sweater! You ruined it!”
Ronald, looking like a ten year old who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, stuttered. “I’m... I’m sorry.”
“Cashmere wool. Imported from Scotland.”
“I’m sorry!”
“Hey,” Oakley said, “I know you. I saw you at that club downtown. Fetish.”
The vampire reigned in his indignation, nodded. “Indeed.”
“So what are you doing here?”
The vampire tilted his head slightly. “Giving you a choice.”
“And what choice is that, exactly?”
“Let Miss Lottie go free. Unharmed in any way. Do it now. Surrender yourselves without further violence or resistance to these policemen, and face prosecution for your crimes.”
Oakley pretended to consider this. “And if we choose to politely decline, sir?”
The vampire’s mouth was a cruel, thin line. “None of you make it out of this room alive.”
Oakley glanced to Ronald, then to Coulter, then back to the vampire. “Like I said before, we’re still holding all the cards here.”
The vampire took off his sunglasses and grinned. The criminals all took a collective gasp. He lifted his sweater upwards, exposing his grayish torso. The bullet wounds were already almost healed, jagged black holes against colorless skin.
“Just in case anyone thought I was wearing body armor.” He pointed at Oakley. “You put a gun to the head of my Lot-Lot? No way you live.”
“What the hell are you?” Oakley asked. His voice was a harsh whisper.
The vampire lifted his head towards Heaven. “And lo, I saw a pale horse, and the rider of that horse was Death. And all Hell followed with him.” The vampire lowered his head, and glared at Oakley with a palpable malevolence, black eyes somehow blazing with a hint of red, fangs long and sharp. “I am Death, Mr. Oakley. I am the Destroyer of Worlds. And I am here for you.”
The room exploded into action. The vampire leapt through the air, blazing eyes glassy, mouth open, fangs bared. Oakley moved the handgun off Lottie, aimed at the vampire, fired.
Reggie spun to his left as the vampire leapt, dropping to the ground and taking aim at the bewildered Ronald. He shot three times: two in the side of the chest, one in the head as Ronald twisted backwards from the impacts.
Horn, still holding his hands up, moved fast, caught Coulter off guard. He drove his right
elbow down onto Coulter’s collarbone. It gave with a satisfying crunch. Coulter winced and grunted, dropped his pistol. It clattered to the floor as Horn spun to his right and drove his left fist directly into Coulter’s nose, breaking it.
Coulter dropped like a load of bricks.
Oakley fired again, missing the vampire a second time. How can that be, he wondered as the vampire crashed into him. They fell to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
Reggie lunged for Lottie. “Grandma!”
Grandma Lottie pushed herself up and out of the chair. He grabbed her, put a protective arm around her, lead her towards the front door. As they got towards the foyer, they paused and looked back.
The living room, partially lit, was a kill zone. Ronald lay dead, brains and blood pooling around him. Whatever was left of Tim still spilled blood over the staircase and down the wall. Coulter was out cold, bleeding profusely. Horn had turned him over on his side so he would not choke on his own blood.
Reggie understood. This was not out of kindness or compassion. Horn wanted the dirty cop motherfucker to live so he could be tried, convicted, and sent to prison. Everyone knew what happened to cops in prison.
It would be a fate worse than death.
Oakley, for his part, was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. As he wrestled with this unholy thing atop him, he knew his opponent was stronger, and that his strength would fade quickly. But he was going to go down fighting.
Die like a man.
Suddenly, the vampire released his grip and leapt to his feet. Oakley, in shock, watched as the vampire danced, like boxer, and motioned for him to join him.
The bastard’s taunting me.
Oakley clambered awkwardly to his feet. He assumed a classic defensive stance, legs shoulder-width apart, hands in a modified boxing position, taught long ago in a boot camp that seemed so far in the past. Right at that moment, he could not remember the name of his drill instructor.
The vampire grinned again. He was enjoying this. “Quickly or slowly?”
“Huh?”
“Do you wish to die quickly or slowly?” the vampire asked. “Choose now, or I will choose for you.”
“I don’t want to die at all.”
“No one does,” the vampire said. “Yet, we all must.”
Oakley moved forward quickly, closing the gap on his opponent. He unleashed a flurry of flawlessly executed punches and kicks. His opponent somehow blocked, ducked, dipped, bobbed and weaved, avoiding an onslaught that would have – should have! – killed him in a matter of seconds. And to make it worse, the toothy bastard was chuckling under his breath, laughing as he did so.
He executed one last sidekick. His opponent blocked the kick easily, and in one fluid motion, grabbed his leg and twisted hard to the left. Oakley lost his balance and fell to the floor.
The vampire checked his watch. “Gentlemen, time has become a factor.”
“Handle your business, Grandpa.”
“Lot-Lot, you do not want to see what happens next.”
Reggie guided her out the front door.
By now, Oakley was on his feet again. “What the fuck are you?”
The vampire grinned again, all teeth and fangs. His eyes looked like those of a Great White Shark.
Pure predator.
“I am simply... your worst fucking nightmare.”
Oakley attacked again. But this time, instead of having his fun, the vampire stepped forward through the kicks and punches and grabbed Oakley by the throat. He lifted him up off the ground with one hand, easily, as if he were weightless. Oakley tried a futile counterattack, as his feet dangled several inches off the floor.
The vampire slammed Oakley into the wall so hard the sheet rock gave way. “Do you believe in God, Mr. Oakley?”
“What?”
“God. Satan. Heaven. Hell.”
“Nope. Never have.”
“Pity,” the vampire said. “I do.” A hint of remorse in his voice.
“Why?”
“How else do you explain me?”
Oakley, snarling with primal rage, clawed at the vampire’s face. His fingernails tore thin slivers of skin. The vampire winced, pounded Oakley into the wall until the sheet rock lay on the floor in pieces. White silt floated down through the air. Oakley kicked at his opponent, kicked him in the belly. Hard.
The vampire dropped Oakley as he staggered back two paces. The force of the impact had surprised him. Of course, the vampire did not worry about internal bleeding.
Oakley attacked again, swinging a hard right. The vampire caught the swing at Oakley’s wrist and elbow, twisted and turned, which drove Oakley to one knee to keep from having his shoulder dislocated. The vampire shifted, turned again, put his foot into Oakley’s ribcage, and pulled.
HARD!
Oakley screamed, first in shock, then in pain and terror. The vampire pulled harder, screaming and laughing in sadistic pleasure, taunting his victim. A terrible wet sound began.
Horn turned his head when the shoulder popped out of socket. “Jesus.”
Reggie reentered just in time to see it. The vampire ripped Oakley’s right arm out of its socket at the shoulder, rending flesh and sinew, pulling the appendage away from the jagged stump.
Arterial blood sprayed everything: the walls, the ceiling, the vampire himself. Anything within five feet got soaked bright red.
Instinctively putting his left hand to his right shoulder, Oakley clamped down hard, trying to stem the bleeding. He somehow forced himself to his feet. Why was the room spinning?
The vampire was in no humor for mercy. Holding Oakley’s amputated arm by the wrist, He began swinging it in a savage arc, bringing it crashing down upon Oakley’s head. He beat Oakley over the head with his own severed arm three times before Oakley began to wobble. The vampire reached out with his free hand, grabbed Oakley by the shirt, held him up. Then he beat Oakley over the head with his own arm again.
Over and over.
Again and again.
Blood spurting in all directions.
Finally, the vampire allowed Oakley to fall in a semiconscious lump at his feet. He tossed the useless arm aside.
Knowing he was dying, Oakley rasped, “Fuck you and your Lot-Lot. Fuck your whole goddamn family.”
The vampire dropped to his knees, straddling Oakley. He slapped Oakley on the forehead, laying him our flat. He used his claws to rip open Oakley’s sweater. He then joined his hands in front of himself, where Oakley could see, pushed the backs of his hands together, fingers interlocked.
Ten razor-sharp claws, all pointed at Oakley’s chest.
The vampire drove down with all his might, even putting his weight behind it to build momentum. His nails sliced through Oakley’s skin easily, drove deeper down to bone, then past that. Fingers curled through soft tissue, braced against bones inside.
Oakley was glassy-eyed with shock.
The vampire grinned thinly.
The vampire then threw his body backwards with a shout, wrenching upwards and outwards, ripping flesh, rending subcutaneous structures, breaking bones.
Oakley’s chest burst open, popping ribs off at the sternum, opening up the entire chest cavity. More blood erupted, fountaining out. Without missing a beat, the vampire jammed his left hand into Oakley’s chest between the lungs. He smiled down at Oakley, having found what he was looking for. The vampire twisted and wrenched his hand backwards simultaneously.
The last thing Oakley saw was the vampire, triumphant, holding his prize aloft: Oakley’s heart. Still beating. The vampire opened wide and bit down into it, sucking out what he could as more blood dribbled out from the torn arteries.
Fade to black.
The vampire held the heart above his upturned face, mouth open, and squeezed the muscular organ. Blood ran thick, a congealing syrup, stringing downward into his mouth. He swallowed, tossed the heart aside, forgotten. He looked up, and saw Horn staring at him, a combination of shock, horror, and morbid fascination on his face.
The vampire shrugged. “What?”
“Is that some kind of a vampire thing?”
“Yes.”
“Remind me to never piss you off again.”
The vampire looked down at his clothes. Dripping red everywhere. They were ruined. No matter. They could be replaced.
Reggie moved deeper into the room. “Time marches on, Grandpa.”
“The police are coming,” the vampire said.
“I don’t hear anything,” Horn answered.
“You will.”
Reggie moved over to Coulter. He looked up at Horn. “May I have the pleasure?”
“Of course, kid.”
Reggie put the handcuffs on Coulter. He was still unconscious.
The vampire moved towards the door. “I really must be leaving.”
“But what about all this?” Horn asked, motioning to the carnage all around.
“You will think of something.”
Outside, the vampire instinctively checked the sky to the east. The pale blue of the coming dawn shown, blending to a deeper blue overhead, and black in the west. He saw Lottie standing in the small yard. He went over to her.
Her eyes grew wide at his appearance.
“Please excuse my appearance, Lot-Lot,” he said. “Things got messy.
“You saved my life.”
He took her hands in his. “I am so sorry for all this. I am sorry you became involved.”
“Those men made their own choices.”
The vampire nodded.
“But Uncle Eddie, and I guess you’re not my real Uncle, are you, where have you been since I was nine years old? How come you look the same now as you did then?”
“I am not your Uncle. I am your Grandfather.”
“You mean -!”
“Your Grandmother Danae and I loved each other very much. We were young. We thought the world would change for us. It did not.”
“And your appearance?”
He glanced at the east once more. “Dawn is approaching. I really must be going. May I come by and visit one night soon? I’d love to give you answers to your questions.”
“I’d like that.”
The vampire reached out and stroked her cheek. “I love you, Lot-Lot.”