A Final Taste of Blood

by Wayne C. Rogers

  ******

  Mike Malloy was staring at the two men through the night scope.

  “When the quai vat heard you coming through the shrubbery,” Malloy said, “it darted west on Reno and disappeared beneath the branches that hang over the wall.”

  “It’s got to be somewhere,” Freeman’s voice said over the mike.

  Malloy unexpectedly heard the sound of something heavy landing on the roof. His right hand automatically went to the handle of the knife that was sheathed at his side. He pulled the blade out, angry at himself for being caught off guard.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “I hear something behind me.”

  “Be careful,” Freeman’s voice warned.

  As Malloy began to ease out of the tent, a tremendous weight slammed into his lower spine, snapping it like a piece of straw. As he opened his mouth to scream, an arm slipped around his neck and jerked his head back at a painful angle.

  “I…remember…you,” a rattled voice whispered into his ear.

  Knowing he was about to die, Malloy cried out as his head was ripped away from his shoulders, leaving nothing but a stump with steams of blood shooting out of it.

  ******

  Freeman heard the cry even from where he was standing and knew something bad had happened to his brother-in-law.

  “Mike’s in trouble,” he said to Peterson.

  Then, without preamble, Freeman ran across the street and down the sidewalk to where the Melvin/creature had first attacked him. He hit the wall with a running start, propelling himself to the top. He caught the edge of the wall with his elbows and slid over to the other side. Landing in a half couch inside the complex, he pulled the Smith & Wesson out of its holster.

  Freeman cocked the hammer back and then quietly stood up. Staring at the roof of his home, he started walking toward the back. Just before he reached the SUV, a head came sailing down from above. It hit the asphalt and rolled to a stop with its face aimed toward him. Freeman saw the horror etched on Malloy’s facial features and screamed out his frustration. Spinning around, Freeman saw the creature leaning over the edge of the roof and grinning at him like a village idiot.

  Without even thinking, Freeman raised the big revolver and fired a booming shot at it. This time he didn’t miss. The bullet took off the creature’s left ear in a bloodied spray of mist, causing the thing to bare its fangs at the Army vet.

  Freeman fired another shot, but missed his target.

  The Melvin/creature had vanished from view.

  Keeping his eyes on the roof, Freeman rushed down the narrow walkway between his condominium and his neighbor’s. He followed it to the front where the main walkway was. Once there, Freeman saw the rest of Malloy’s body lying in the grass in front of the rose bushes.

  Shifting his attention back to the condo, Freeman’s eyes swept the edge of the roof and then moved down to the balcony outside of his bedroom. The ladder wasn’t there, which meant it was still lying up top. That made him wonder how the Melvin/creature had managed to get to Malloy.

  He glanced around and then looked back at the oak tree on the southwest corner of his neighbor’s home. The tree had a thick branch that extended over the roof.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the creature must’ve climbed the tree, crawled out on the limb, and then lowered itself to the roof. After that, it must’ve jumped the ten-foot gap between the two condos and quickly come up behind Malloy.

  Looking back at the balcony, he stared hard into the blackness and was eventually rewarded by the appearance of two red-glowing eyes. Placing the revolver down on the walkway, Freeman pulled out the K-Bar knife from the sheath strapped to his left leg. He then stepped out into the middle of the oval that separated the condos from each other and waited for the creature to come to him.

  ******

  The Melvin/creature moved to the railing and stared at Freeman with a sense of weariness. As if it suspected a trap of some sort, the monster glanced in both directions before allowing its eyes to settle back on its adversary.

  It was time for a final taste of blood.

  Grabbing the railing, the Melvin/creature jumped to the ground below, landing in front of the bushes. Then, it began to carefully approach the man who had escaped its clutches so many years ago. The quai vat, however, couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of a possible trap and kept checking the area, looking at the obvious places where someone might hide. Moving past the body of Malloy, it continued to where Freeman was waiting for their final confrontation with the area lights shining upon him.

  Only one would leave the grassy oval alive.

  ******

  “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Freeman asked. He watched the Melvin/creature walk to him with a cunning look in its red eyes. “Well, here I am.”

  The creature halted ten feet away from Freeman and dropped into a crouch. It eyed the knife in the man’s hand with distrust, knowing what it was capable of doing to its body. Moving to the side of the ex-soldier with crablike motions, and then back again, the quai vat tested his defenses. Though it wanted to get inside of the knife, the quai vat also wanted to do it without risk.

  “Come and get me, asshole,” the man said.

  Staring up at the black clouds and feeling the hard drops of rain strike its face, the Melvin/creature roared its answer to the man’s challenge. Then, to heighten the fear of its enemy, the quai vat’s facial features began to morph into the atrocious thing it was.

  ******

  Freeman could feel goose bumps rising up on his arms beneath the jacket as the Melvin/creature shape-changed into something hideous that would have scared the living daylights out of the average person. Instead, it took the former soldier back to the underground tunnels of the Vietnam War where he’d nearly died at the hands of the monster.

  Once the transformation had taken place, the creature directed its attention back to Freeman. There was now a wild gleam of purer malice in its eyes that made the man think it was getting ready to attack. He gripped the knife more tightly and prepared himself for the savage assault.

  When it came, the ex-tunnel rat dropped low to the ground and swept the thing’s feet out from underneath it. The quai vat landed hard on its back with a solid thud, knocking the wind from its lungs. Freeman was on top of the monster before it could recover, driving the point of the K-Bar knife deep into its heart. He pushed the blade all the way down to its hilt. Then, kneeling there beside the body, he didn’t budge for sixty seconds as he watched and waited, unconsciously holding his breath, happy to still be alive.

  It was only when he heard the unexpected grunt that he lost his smile of victory and lifted his eyes to the knife in the creature’s chest. Freeman now realized what he was up against as he watched the quai vat wrap its hand around the handle of the blade and pull it out with a sucking-like sound.

  The Melvin/creature turned over onto its side and stared at the shocked expression on Freeman’s face, laughing crazily like something out of a horror movie. As the man attempted to backpedal from the monster, it reached out and grabbed his ankle within its vise-like grip.

  Freeman tried to shake his foot loose, but the creature held on. It was only when the quai vat began to crawl up his body that he cried out, knowing he was about to die.

  ******

  Straddling his waist, the Melvin/creature pushed the man’s left hand down to the grass and placed the point of the knife against the flesh of his palm. The thing quickly drove the knife into his hand, pinning it to the ground. Freeman couldn’t stop himself from screaming out loud as his hand was skewered like a bug on piece of cardboard.

  But, that was only the beginning.

  The monster flipped the sides of Freeman’s jacket open, tore the front of his flannel shirt apart, and then raked its claws down the bare flesh of his chest and stomach. The sharp, pointed claws sliced the skin open, trailing the jagged scars down to the top of his jeans.

  The best, however, was still to come as the quai v
at sank its yellow teeth into the muscle covering the upper part of Freeman’s chest. It ripped a chunk of raw meat off with a jerk of its head and chewed it with obvious delight. Blood dripped from its lips like rivets of water. Raising its face into the night, the Melvin/creature howled like a coyote on crack cocaine, sensing that the man below it was sinking into a rapid state of unconsciousness.

  It was at that moment a deep, guttural sound erupted from the darkness off to the left of the quai vat. The unexpected noise surprised the creature. It swung its head to the left to see what was there. At the sight of the animal approaching from the darkness on the west side of the oval, the creature roared its disbelief and anger, knowing it would have to fight the entity for the man’s life.

  Spitting out chewed flesh from its mouth, the quai vat got off the unconscious man’s body and rose to its full height. It struck the knife wound in its chest with a fist, and then charged the animal.

  Freeman opened his eyes to the sound of intense barking and teeth snapping. He knew the sound of that bark, but his rational mind was unable to believe that it was possible. Ignoring the wave of pain that shot through his left side, he turned over as far as he could to see who or what was fighting the monster

  What Freeman saw caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Though his eyes witnessed what was happening, his mind was unable to grasp its meaning.

  Betty was alive and fighting the Melvin/creature.

  The dog ran around the creature’s defenses and then backed up, wildly snapping its jaws at the monster, reminding it of what a bite from a Pit Bull was like. The quai vat swung its fists and grabbed at the animal, but all to no avail. The dog had learned its lesson well from the previous encounter and dodged each aggressive move.

  Freeman didn’t have time to digest the reality of the situation as a voice called out his name.

  “Ben,” the voice said. “Look at me.”

  Twisting his head further around and crying out from the severe pain in his left arm, Freeman saw a white light emerging from between the condominiums. Inside the light was his dead wife, Sheila, dressed as he remembered seeing her the last time she was alive. He wasn’t a religious man and didn’t believe in the Afterlife. He even began to think that maybe he was hallucinating and was still unconscious.

  “You have to get up, Ben,” Sheila said. “Betty can only hold off the creature for a few more seconds. You have to act now or die. Tunnel rats fight, Ben. They don’t give up until the last breath is taken from their body. Get up and fight! Fight for us, if not yourself.”

  Freeman turned his head back and stared at the knife piercing his left palm. He knew what needed to be done. Gritting his teeth, he took hold of the knife’s handle and began to slowly pull it up. At one point he screamed out from the sheer agony of what he was experiencing. He had to force himself not to pass out. Freeman still had one mission left to complete, and he would fulfill that obligation like a true U.S. Army tunnel rat.

  When the bloodied blade was finally out and Freeman was able to focus his tear-filled eyes, he rotated his mangled body onto its right side and stared at the back of the creature a few yards away. The thing had squatted down once again to better fight Betty on the animal’s level.

  Freeman ignored the retching pain as he began to crawl toward the quai vat. Each foot brought him closer to his destiny. When he was within a couple of feet of the creature, he rose haphazardly to his feet. At that second, the bodies of Betty and Sheila gradually disappeared, leaving the thing perplexed as to what had just happened.

  Taking a couple of staggering steps forward, Freeman sprang upon its back and wrapped his left arm tightly around the creature’s horrendous face. The sweeping pain in his arm was tremendous, but he wiped it from his mind. He then jerked the monster’s head backwards with a quick motion so its throat was exposed. The ex-soldier didn’t waste any time. He slid the sharp edge of the blade across the quai vat’s neck, slicing it from ear to ear. It took a dozen strokes to eventually cut through the tendons, muscles and flesh. Once the head was decapitated from the shoulders, Freeman allowed the body to collapse to the ground.

  Leaning back with the rain dropping upon his haggard face, Freeman held the head up in one hand and the knife up in the other. He shouted his victory for all to hear. Finally, as the adrenaline rush dissipated, he fell alongside the creature and curled up into a ball, crying his eyes out for the loss of his wife and dog.

  Freeman’s sobs filled the night.

  He didn’t even realize there was still life left in the quai vat’s headless body. The thing shook uncontrollably for a long moment, and then it felt around for Freeman with its right hand. When it touched the bomber jacket, the creature then began its search for the man’s arm, moving its hand lightly over the jacket. The quai vat found the arm, grabbed it, and rolled the crying man over onto his back.

  Like a large spider, the quai vat started climbing onto Freeman defenseless body. The man was shocked and speechless by the turn of events. He could only lie there in horror and watch everything unfold in slow motion.

  Suddenly, Ed Kulczynski appeared, standing over the creature.

  He was wearing a wet bathrobe and bedroom slippers, and his white hair plastered down around his face from the rain. In his hands was a double-barreled shotgun, pointed down at the back of the monster. Kulczynski pulled both triggers of the shotgun and blew out the back of the quai vat. He then broke open the barrel, removed the spent shells, and replaced them with two new ones. He snapped the shotgun closed and stared down at Freeman with a smile.

  “I’m here, Ben,” he said. “Hang in there. An ambulance is on its way.”

  That was when Frank Peterson came limping around the corner of Freeman’s condominium, carrying the .44 magnum down by his side. The ex-police officer immediately saw Ed standing there with a shotgun pointed at what had once been the homeless man. Freeman, however, was just laying there with his eyes closed and the creature halfway up his body.

  “Is the damn thing dead?” Peterson asked.

  “I hope so,” Ed replied.

  Peterson knelt down on the grass beside his friend. In the background, police sirens could be heard in the distance, approaching the complex.

  “Don’t die on us, Ben,” he said.

  The lights in the surrounding condominiums were now coming on with people stepping outside their front doors to see what had been going on.

  Dragging the Melvin/creature’s body off of his friend, Peterson sat down and placed Freeman’s head in his lap.

  Freeman opened his eyes and gazed up at the former detective.

  “Sheila and Betty saved my life,” he said softly.

  “Save your energy,” Peterson said. “The ambulance will be here in a minute.”

  Eight days later—the cemetery

  Frank Peterson and Freeman were standing at the grave sites of Sheila and Betty. The bronze markers of Mike Malloy and Buddy Rogers’ graves were next to them. Since Freeman was once again in a wheelchair, he handed some freshly cut flowers to Peterson so he could place them on the graves.

  “Do you think they know we’re here?” Freeman asked.

  Peterson straightened up and looked at his friend.

  “Oh, yes, they know,” he said. “I think the power of love is so great that it lives long after the people closest to us have passed away.”

  “You think that was really Sheila and Betty at the complex?”

  “Yes, Ben, I do.”

  “Maybe it was.”

  Peterson stepped over to Ben Freeman and set his hand gently on the man’s left shoulder.

  “Ed told me that when he was running from his home to help you,” Peterson said, “that he heard a dog barking and that it sounded just like Betty. Yes, they were definitely there, my friend.”

  Moving behind the wheelchair, Peterson started pushing Freeman back to the SUV.

  “I might move to California in the next couple of weeks,” Freeman said. “You’re welcome to co
me with me, if you want, Frank. The two-bedroom cottage in Malibu is now mine. It’s big enough for two old farts like us to live in it.”

  “Let me give it some thought, Ben.”

  The black SUV was only a few yards away as they continued to it.

  One month later—Malibu Beach, California

  It was early morning in Malibu with the sun having just risen in the east. The few seagulls that were out flew low over the ocean, searching for food in the water. Freeman leaned against the porch railing, wearing an Hawaiian shirt and Khaki shorts and sandals. He drank from a hot cup of coffee as his eyes focused on something down on the sandy beach.

  Sheila and Betty headed down the beach away from the cottage, playing with each other. Their bodies gradually faded into the light as the sun grew higher in the sky.