Monsters weren't real, damn it!
"I was starting to think you were never going to come Stephanie.”
Stephanie screamed and nearly fired a shot. That would have been bad. The walls here wouldn't stop a bullet and who knows what or who she might have hit. Her dad had been very clear about only using it as a last resort.
This was the last resort. She felt it deep in her bones, but her mind was still bargaining with an uncaring universe and refusing to believe she was done for.
The monkey brain in the back of her head was good and terrified, but it had quieted down. The claws and teeth were here, all was lost, and the more refined parts of her brain refused to admit it.
She wheeled around and the terror burning in her went from white-hot to freezing cold. She recognized the man standing on the other side of her room with a small smile playing across his face.
The creeper from the party.
Stephanie licked her lips. "What the hell are you doing here?"
The guy shrugged and took a step forward. "Why wouldn't I be here Stephanie? You invited me in."
There was something unsettling about the way he said that. She’d invited him in. Like he couldn't come in if he didn't have an invitation. There was only one creature she could think of that couldn't come in without an invitation, but that was ridiculous.
Monsters weren't real.
Some random guy she met at a house party showing up in her room was bad enough without bringing ancient monsters that didn't exist into the equation.
No, he wasn't up to any good even if he wasn’t a monster. She raised the pistol and remembered her father's words: "Don't aim this at anything you don't intend to end."
Well she was going to end this guy if he took another step.
He glanced at the gun but didn't react aside from the corner of his mouth twitching up ever so slightly.
"Now Stephanie," he said. "Is that any way for you to treat a friend?"
He took a step closer. The step she told herself she wouldn’t let him take, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger.
Even if she couldn't shake the feeling that if he bridged the gap between them that would be the end. He wasn't here to take advantage of her. He wasn’t interested in all the sorts of things freshman orientation said guys would try if they slipped something into her drink.
No, she had a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that he was going to kill her. It was a primal feeling. Something she was now recognizing, too late, as a gift from those ancient primate ancestors who knew when they were being stalked by something dangerous with big sharp teeth.
He took another step. Another step across that invisible line she set for herself but couldn’t bring herself to cross.
“Go ahead. Do it. Shoot me.”
The gun shook. Her dad had taken her shooting before, everyone in their small town did it, but this was the first time she’d pointed a gun at a living creature. She'd never had the stomach for hunting like her older brother.
She knew she’d have to shoot him yet she didn't want to. She still couldn't bring herself to harm someone. Even if he deserved it.
One more warning.
"I'm fucking serious!"
"I know you are Stephanie," he said. "The only thing is it won't do you any good."
He looked down and shook his head. As though he was sad about something. Then he looked back up at her and there was something off about him. She didn't quite realize what it was until he stepped into the light streaming in from the alley behind her house.
She gasped. His teeth. They were long and sharp and pointy. She'd found the creature with the sharp teeth and claws, only it wasn't anything that should be real.
"The only problem is, Stephanie, it won’t do you any good to shoot me, but I know you need to try. So go ahead. Do what you need to do.”
Stephanie pulled the trigger over and over. The sound was deafening in her small room. Luckily for her tinnitus was another of many long range health problems she wouldn’t have to worry about since she was about to have the ultimate catastrophic health failure due to a lack of circulation.
The guy stumbled back, but then he smiled and stood up straight. As though getting shot in his center of mass didn't affect him at all.
Because of course being hit in the center of his mass wouldn’t hurt a vampire.
He shook his head again. Still sad. “I told you it wouldn't do you any good Stephanie.”
Stephanie screamed and ran for the door, scrambling for her phone and knowing it wasn't going to do a damn bit of good. She should have called earlier when she was walking home.
It wouldn’t have saved her from the creature stalking her in the night, but it might’ve ended her suffering a little earlier.
3
Night Shift
I sat in my squad car across from a popular campus liquor store and watched a group of college kids who were obviously trying to psych themselves up to go in despite not a one of them looking old enough to go in there, legally speaking.
I smiled, remembering my own college days. A very illustrious and very brief academic career. Yeah, those had been good times before I’d been forced to drop out and ship out. Before my life had changed.
Back when things had been simple. Back when the only thing I had to worry about was whether or not a liquor store clerk was going to accept the fake ID one of my friends was trying to pass off.
I could still remember it all these years later. The thrill of realizing a laser printer could be used to make a passable fake if you got clever with off the shelf laminate from Walmart. The rush of wondering if the old bat behind the counter was even going to notice it was fake considering she had glasses that looked like coke bottles.
The terror of getting the hell out of Dodge as fast as we could run when it turns out the old bat behind the counter had a sixth sense about picking out fakes and the local Five-Oh on speed dial.
Those were the days.
I’d discovered there were a lot worse things in this world than worrying about fake IDs. My time overseas had taught me the world wasn't a friendly place. There were people who could do a lot worse than calling old Sergeant Kyle to chew your ass out for wasting his time with a cheap fake.
I sighed and pushed those memories away.
"You're not over there anymore Blake," I muttered. "Now concentrate on the kids trying to score some illegal booze."
At least I would've put good money on those guys trying to get some illegal booze. There was something about the shifty way they looked around that told me at least a few of them were under the legal drinking age and trying to pull a fast one.
They had to be. I knew that look because that had been me, and it hadn’t been all that long ago. Even if those kids would think I was some ancient old fucker barely able to get around without a walker.
I remembered thinking that about anyone over twenty-five once upon a time too.
"Idiots," I muttered.
It seriously felt like I was watching amateur hour. After all, my squad car was right down the street in plain sight, sort of, and yet they’d looked past it a couple of times. I let out a disgusted noise and shook my head. I never would’ve pulled a stupid move like that.
Always check your surroundings for cop cars. It was the first rule of doing something illegal.
Of course the problem for those assholes down there was I knew how the game was played because I’d been one of the best players once upon a time.
That's why I’d parked my car in a spot where the shadows mostly hid it from stupid college kids suffering from neon light blindness in a liquor store parking lot.
Hey, I didn’t have to make it easy on them. That probably accounted for why they hadn’t seen me yet. That or the guys were so busy staring at the girls’ tits that they couldn’t concentrate on less important things like the cop who was about to bust their asses.
I could remember a time when a nice pair of tits had been one hell of a distractio
n. Still were, to be honest, with the difference being there was one pair of tits I was contractually obligated to ogle these days.
I kept all my other ogling on the down low where the missus couldn’t see it.
Either way their stupidity would make it a lot easier for me to flip on the lights when they were on their way back out with their contraband. My fingers hovered over the switch as I imagined the deer in headlights look on their faces.
"Come on boys," I whispered. "Make my day."
It's not like I was interested in a bust. Not really. I just wanted to put the fear of God in the kids. Make them realize bad things could happen to people stupid enough to make bad decisions. That there were consequences.
I knew that one firsthand. That was for damn sure.
Not that I was angry at these kids for being stupid like I was once upon a time. I was damn sure not going to ruin their lives like someone else had tried to ruin mine once upon a time.
Even if things had turned out pretty well on balance. I looked down at the picture of Rachel and Zoey that I kept on the dashboard. It made it easier to do the overnight shifts knowing they were sleeping soundly because I was keeping an eye on campus.
I sighed and decided I wasn't going to wait for them to go inside. I could scare them before they did something that would require me to charge them.
Something that would require me to fill out a shitload of paperwork. I hated paperwork, and doing that paperwork would distract from my important phone game time.
I flipped on my lights and sure enough the kids turned and stared like deer in headlights. I grinned as I gunned the engine and fired off my siren a couple of times, hoping the entire time that these kids really were underage, that I really was reading the situation correctly and I wasn't going to look like an ass stopping a bunch of kids over twenty-one from going into the liquor store which was their goddamn right as Americans if they wanted to.
As long as they were over twenty-one. It was hard to tell sometimes.
That was something interesting and mildly terrifying I’d noticed ever since I got this job. They all looked like kids to me now. It was difficult to tell the difference between eighteen and twenty-one, and there'd been a couple of embarrassing moments when I’d started writing a ticket for underage drinking at a house party only to discover the person was a grad student.
Ever had a grad student start lecturing you on how all society is a false construct and trying to ticket them for underage drinking was proof of their pet theory for why they didn’t have to obey a law they weren’t breaking in the first place?
It wasn’t a fun experience. I can guarantee you that. My only satisfaction was knowing the job prospects waiting for the patchouli smelling bearded bastard if and when he finally got out of grad school.
I pulled up and rolled down my window. I actually had to roll it down with an old-fashioned roller.
The University department wasn't in the habit of spending money they didn't have to, and apparently that included modern conveniences like power windows.
I sized up the college kids doing their best to look like they were completely innocent of whatever I was about to accuse them of doing.
I knew that look well enough because I’d practiced it for hours in my mirror once upon a time until I could tell a lie without seeing that look on my own face.
It paid to be prepared.
"How are you all doing tonight?" I asked.
I thought my voice walked a fine line between quiet and authoritative. Friendly with an implied threat.
From the way they rolled their eyes it wasn’t working on them as well as I thought it was. Oh well. You couldn’t win them all.
Finally one of them got the courage to step forward and act as the spokesman. Though he didn't look like he was too happy about it.
I could recognize the type. He probably thought he was the leader of the group. Or maybe he was trying to impress one of the young ladies. There were a few lookers in there even if they were all a little too young for my taste.
That was the problem with younger women. They looked nice until they opened their mouths. Give me a girl my age who actually appreciated the finer things in life any day of the week.
A girl like Rachel.
The fact that this guy was trying to impress the ladies with him could mean trouble though. He’d need to do something bold to impress these girls.
To say they were a little out of the guys’ league would be like saying Michael Jordan was a little bit of overkill in a playground game of HORSE.
The guys were all a bit on the scrawny side. A bit on the nerdy side.
Nothing wrong with that, but I got the feeling the only reason they were out with these girls was it was still early in the semester and they probably had access to equipment to make fake IDs and the technical knowhow to make them.
I couldn’t fault their hustle, probably better than the laser printer monstrosities we came up with when I was in school, but I was going to have to shut down their game. For tonight, at least.
"What seems to be the problem officer?" the guy asked, his voice miraculously not cracking.
I looked the guy up and down. I recognized the type. The kid had probably been a little bit of a geek in high school, and now he was desperately trying to shed that image in college.
Maybe trying a little too hard, but I wished him luck. If there was ever a time to reinvent yourself it was college.
It was a never ending source of annoyance in the fall semester. Unfortunately most college kids seemed to think “get shitfaced drunk from Thursday night to Sunday evening” was the best way to reinvent themselves, and I was the one left hosing out my car at the end of the weekend.
The smell never really left. Not completely.
"I don't think there's a problem at all," I said. "At least I hope there's not a problem. I just wanted to make sure you weren't getting lost on your way to the house parties."
The guy blinked and looked around. His eyes fell on one girl in particular and he stood up a little straighter. I shook my head and would’ve laughed if I wasn't supposed to stay serious because of the job.
So it was a girl. She had the look of a head cheerleader or a prom queen who hadn’t quite realized there were thousands of former head cheerleaders and prom queens running around this place.
I just hoped the kid didn't do something stupid trying to impress the lady.
"Get lost on the way to the house parties?" he asked.
"Well yeah," I said. "It looked like you were heading towards this liquor store, but I know that couldn't be the case. I figured you got lost on your way to the house parties. Plenty of booze there, and there aren't nearly as many cops who’d have to arrest you for trying to score some drinks when you’re not quite old enough to score those drinks legally.”
I paused and looked off into the distance trying my best to look philosophical. Or maybe it was just the thousand yard stare of a grunt looking forward to a fate worse than death, which is what would happen to me if I had to take in their entire group.
“That sort of thing is a bunch of paperwork for me. You don't want to make some poor campus cop do a bunch of paperwork do you? Don't you think my life is already bad enough?"
I smiled and hoped the guy would pick up on the hint. It was one hell of a hint. Big enough that even a fancy college boy should be able to get what I was talking about.
The tension grew and I prayed this worked, because I hadn’t been lying when I said I wasn’t in the mood for extra paperwork tonight.
I just wanted to put in my token effort showing the flag while the kids were streaming out to the parties and then go off to some out of the way parking lot and play games while I waited for the drunk calls to come in.
Was that too much to ask?
4
Duty Calls
They all looked at each other again. A long lingering look.
I knew that look. It was the look of state college kids who thought their shit didn�
��t stink because they weren’t going to community college like just about everyone else from the cornfield in the middle of nowhere they grew up in.
As though going to state college was the same as getting into an institution with a little more ivy on the walls. Though around here it might as well be.
Yeah, that was a look that said they didn’t like getting pushed around by some knuckle dragging campus cop. That they were going to do good in school so they never found themselves sitting where I was.
They could keep that pole stuck up their asses for all I cared. I had a secure job, a loving wife, a roof over my head, and I didn’t have crazies trying to shoot and or blow my ass out from under me every other day.
Sometimes every day, even. Some of those dudes over there had been persistent. I could respect that even if I did have to do my best to kill them.
No, life didn’t get much better than this job as far as I was concerned. I’d gotten my Phd in killing people once upon a time doing things that would make these kids curl up into whimpering balls, and it was a degree I could’ve done without thank you very much.
I said a silent prayer that this college boy wouldn't be so full of himself, so intent on impressing the young lady, that he’d do something stupid like try to talk back to me or convince me they were old enough to buy alcohol.
My ability to tell the subtleties of age among college kids might not be that great, but from the way everyone was nervously glancing back and forth I knew I’d been absolutely right. There was no question that at least some in this crowd weren't old enough to step foot in a liquor store.
Hey, I might think twenty-one was a ridiculous drinking age, to be honest I’d done my best to get around that limit whenever I could back in the day, but I didn't make the laws. I just had to enforce them.
Selectively at times.
“Come on guys," I said. "I don't make the laws, but I do have to fill out a shitload of paperwork when you try to break them and get caught being dumbasses. Cut me a break and I’ll cut you one. Go to the house parties."
Blake Byron: Paranormal Investigator Page 2