Vampire Dreams (Bloodscreams #1)

by Robert W. Walker

  Dolphin Banaker had fallen to the floor of the cave in a weakened state, fluttering about the dung hills and white worms, his mind racing with the fearful thought his injury would lead to death. He'd thought himself immortal. He had never felt fear in his life, and he had never felt weak. This feeling of strength draining from him by the second as if it were fluid, as if his blood had turned to bubbles and gas and was escaping through his pores, shocked him.

  In the distance--or might it be closer--he “saw” his father's shape, just managing strength enough to send out the signal that located him. His father was pursuing Stroud. Dolph feared being left alone with all the odd sensations of this moment.

  The combination of battle with his father and Stroud's shining cross that seared through his flesh while leaving his father virtually unharmed, amazed and terrified Dolph.

  As he lay there, sensing his father's hesitation at the mouth of the cave, he knew two truths: his father was not what he had always believed him to be, but rather a gallant foe of the human race after all. And, he knew that if his father destroyed Stroud now, leaving Dolph alone with his heart-draining, blood-draining fear and weakness, that Dolph would die of his wounds.

  He “saw” his father turn at the cave mouth, returning his echo-location “stare”. Dolph knew in that instant his father's decision was made and Banaker turned and started back toward Dolph.

  But Dolph, floundering and weakened, wondered if the old bat was coming back to aid him or to put a final end to him, if he thought destroying Dolph was more important now than destroying Stroud.

  Dolph felt his insides withering with the thought and amid the pain of inability and the awful imprisonment of weak and useless limbs, he vomited. Whole colonies and eggs of the white worms came up with blood. He was bleeding internally; somehow Stroud's magic had cut right through to his organs and the parasites that lived within him had begun to feed on him! Had his father not been there, he'd be dead by now, destroyed by Stroud and Magaffey using a flashlight and a tire iron! It seemed unthinkable, unbelievable, yet, how many times had his father told him about the old enemy?

  His father, using the new miracles of science and medicine, had so improved his own resistance to such ancient weapons, he had barely been affected by them. Banaker had merely been amused at the crude display, while he had succumbed to it. There was wisdom in his father's plans, and in his “cure.” Dolphin needed the cure now, but even more, he needed his father to know that he had learned his lesson well, and that he deserved a second chance.

  Dolph, with all that he could muster in the way of energy, transmitted this thought to his father as the wide-eyed bat man approached him with a look that meant either fear or hatred. Dolph was too weak to tell. He had spent all his energy signaling and transmitting.

  Banaker swooped over him and lifted him in what seemed a steady, smooth, powerful action. Without a word he demanded Dolph to “Take of my blood, now! Now!”

  Dolph and his father were in flight for a deeper part of the cave, a larger chamber, and while in flight Dolph sank his teeth into his father's neck, drinking in the other's power. Banaker came to rest with his son at just the area he expected to be below Stroud's helicopter. He allowed Dolph a moment more of sustenance before he forced himself away from the boy, his bat shape dissolving into a fog that filled the cave.

  Dolph felt stronger and he knew he would live on, thanks to his father.

  -18-

  Dr. Martin Magaffey's bleeding had continued nonstop, and the extent of the wound, covered in the coagulating blood and the dark folds of the man's own skin, made it difficult to determine exactly how deep the gash went, and how much blood he'd lost. Magaffey was in a near coma. Stroud, bearing up against his weight, helped him along the difficult path upward to where the helicopter and escape awaited them. Twice Magaffey foundered, his entire body going slack, and finally Stroud had to lift him up in a forearm cradle to carry him along. Along their path, sharp gray wooden stakes created a trail anyone could follow as these objects fell from Stroud's shoulder pack.

  Magaffey moaned once or twice before passing out altogether from the shock of the wound. Stroud's mind raced with what to do with him, where to take him for medical assistance, and who could be trusted.

  They made the steep climb and Stroud rushed to strap Magaffey's limp form into the passenger seat. He then raced to the pilot's position, tearing away the now empty but confining bag that'd carried the stakes, tossing it into the bushes. A glance down the slope informed him of the surprising fact that they were not being pursued by the disgusting creatures. He climbed hastily into the cockpit and prepared to take off without worrying about the usual safety checks. He did all this just as a dark rush of moldering fog seeped from out of the cracks and earth just ahead of the craft, as if the caves were spewing forth some vile gas. Molecules seethed and whirled from out of the earth, rising up and over the cab of the helicopter. It was an unnatural fog, like nothing Stroud had ever encountered.

  “It's the creature, Stroud! It can control its own shape!”

  Stroud turned over the engine but it only whined in response. The dark cloud was gaining thickness and an ever-increasing hold on the chopper, some of it seeping into the rear and through the broken window when suddenly the engine kicked into life and the rotar blade was given full throttle, exploding the ominous fog and scattering it so thoroughly as to weaken it completely.

  Stroud, Magaffey, the chopper, and its contents were up and away. Just before takeoff, Stroud had pulled down a flare gun and was now clutching it, ready for anything.

  “Be damned if I'm going to wind up like Cooper and Pam,” he said between clenched teeth. But Magaffey was mercifully unconscious. Stroud wondered if he'd use the flare gun to explode the old machine with him and Magaffey and the evidence aboard rather than face the slow death the vampires had in store for them.

  Banaker and Dolphin stood on the bluff now, the helicopter a far-off blur in the sky, going for Stroud Manse. Dolph wanted to give chase and destroy them now. Banaker held his son in check saying, “Patience ... patience, Dolphin. The important thing at the moment is us!”

  “Us?”

  “You and I united in a common battle against a common enemy: Stroud. We will beat him down, the last of his line, and you, my son, will know what to do with that promising future.”

  At this, Dolphin stared at his father whose ankle was bleeding profusely. Dolphin bent to look at the wound, and he lapped at it. “It's a bad wound, Father,” he said.

  “I've got to get to the Institute, warn the others, gather our forces.”

  “Yes, of course. The brightness of the sun has me weak,” confessed Dolph. “I must get out of it. I confess, there are some great benefits to your blood substitute.”

  “You were hurt more badly by the cross as well, son.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “So much I've tried to tell you ... you had to learn on your own.”

  “The hard way.”

  Banaker hugged his son to him. “One good thing about Stroud's being here. He's brought you back to me.”

  “I'm sorry about all the ... the wrongs ... about Cooper's kid--”

  “And Cooper, and Pamela.”

  “But Cooper went to Magaffey and told him about us.”

  “What? When did this occur?”

  “Last night.”

  Banaker nodded. “Of course, you did the right thing, son.”

  “And Pam ... well, she failed miserably with Stroud.”

  “I suppose there was no other way for Pam. She was never quite completely one with the family ... nor Cooper after his son's death.”

  “No sir, no ... they weren't.”

  “I trust now, at last, you have finished, however, with feeding on your own kind! And with endangering your kith and kin.”

  “I have, Father ... and I know I need your elixir.”

  “If we are to combat Stroud and win, yes, you do. But just as important, now, son, you realize you wil
l one day be the head of the colony--what you do will determine the future of our species on Earth. That's what's at stake now.”

  Dolphin put his arms around his father and they parted there, Dolph going back to the dark of the cave while Oliver Banaker rushed for the Institute. He must be ready for Stroud. Dolph would join him at nightfall and together they would put an end to Stroud's hideous line.

  Banaker wasn't overly worried about the items Magaffey and Stroud had removed from Dolph's lair. Their evidence would amount to nothing quite shortly, just as Cooper's body now amounted to a watery spot on the floor of the cave now being consumed by maggots.

  Magaffey still had not come to when Abe Stroud landed the helicopter, intact, on the weed-infested pad back of Stroud Manse. They were greeted by Lonnie Wilson who, for the first time, was showing a fascination for the whirlybird, his eyes and hands caressing the metal monster. “Help me get Doctor Magaffey up to the house, Lonnie!” cried Stroud over the sound of the rotars which were still churning down.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Stroud!”

  “Good man!”

  Stroud jumped down and came around to help with Magaffey whose wounds startled Lonnie. “It's all right, Lonnie. He'll be all right if we can get him into the house!”

  Lonnie grabbed onto Dr. Magaffey's lighter frame and lifted him bodily onto his shoulder, saying, “I got 'im.”

  Stroud watched as Lonnie hurried off with the doctor. He glanced at the cargo hold, full now with the incriminating evidence against Banaker, wondering what he might do with it. He imagined himself flying it into Andover and placing it on the steps at City Hall, or at Chief Briggs's feet. Briggs had been unable to safely get away a simple UPS package. What would he do with Pam Carr's remains, those of the Bradley woman, and the Cooper kid?”

  The corpses required a thorough examination in the best and most sanitary conditions; they required Magaffey's attention and perhaps Banaker's well-lit, well-ventilated, sterile operating rooms, if a safe and useful autopsy was to be performed. The facts, such as they were, must be documented. Not only for his and Magaffey's safety--to prove their innocence in the deaths--but for the next time, for the future ... and all those millions who would never otherwise believe it possible, either now or in the future.

  But what were the chances of gaining Banaker's own medical facilities to prove him--along with most of his people--a vampire? Not bloody likely.

  Stroud didn't want to let the evidence out of his sight. He could not understand why Banaker had allowed them to escape with the damning cargo, unless he hadn't a clue about their ability to maintain the condition of the evidence, or unless he intended to regain it later. Leaving it unguarded even for a short while could prove foolish, but all that Stroud had on hand to guard it with was the flare gun. And as for the condition of the evidence--sterile earth or no--the microbes seeping into the coffins via air were at work already on the corpses--unless the cocoons prevented this. However, the cocoons had rents and tears in them, particularly Pam Carr's.

  Enormous, smouldering storm clouds rumbled in from the west, threatening to blot out the sky with blackness. Stroud had seen them from the air. Andover would, in a matter of an hour, be covered in darkness and rain. Banaker and his kind, if folklore could be believed, controlled the power of the wind and created such storms. Within that mighty storm cloud may hide hundreds, if not thousands of them, all come to descend on Stroud Manse, to reclaim what was theirs.

  Abe was tired, spent from his battle with the man-sized bat creature he somehow knew was Banaker, one and the same. Something in the unseeing, cold bat eyes, something in the makeup of the creature, and all the knowledge brought him by Magaffey before dawn--the unbelievable tale of the Ashyers and Lonnie Wilson, the way his grandfather had died, and finding the bodies of Pam Carr, Cooper, and the others associated with Banaker encrusted in egglike sacs. It all pointed to Banaker and the insidious nature of his so-called Institute. He recalled the ghoulish behavior of the men in the morgue that day, and the strange suspicions Dolph Banaker had exhibited.

  He knew he must somehow get to Banaker Institute unseen, that their only chance to reduce the odds against the human population of Andover was now to somehow decimate the population of the vampires. “It's either them or us,” he said aloud--a phrase often repeated in the jungles of Southeast Asia during his years there. This was no less a war.

  Lonnie returned for him, and Banaker had to plead for his help with the coffins. Lonnie didn't want to go near them, much less touch them.

  Stroud took firm hold of the shaking man's shoulders. “Lonnie! Lonnie, it's important! It must be done! I need your help, Lonnie.”

  Lonnie, trembling, stepped up to the cargo bay and stared inside. Stroud thought he would bolt away any moment, but he caught him when he tried to do just that, blubbering and tearing away from Stroud's grasp. “Damn it, Lonnie, just grab hold! It won't hurt you, I promise! I promise!”

  “Yer granfadder promised, too ... but it got me! Bit me!”

  “But you're alive, and he's dead, Lonnie! He saved you and lost his own life doing so!”

  “I can't!”

  Stroud struck him hard across the face, and Lonnie went down to his knees, further frustrating Stroud. “All right, all right, Lonnie. Get up to the house and bring me my hunting rifle.”

  “Won't do no good against them, Doctor Stroud.”

  “Just do it! And tell Mrs. Ashyer to call Ray Carroll to come out here. And ... and tell Ashyer to come out here to give me a hand with the coffins. You got all that, Lonnie? Lonnie?”

  “Yes, sir ... yes, sir,” he said, ambling off like a child soon to forget.

  “Hurry, Lonnie!”

  Lonnie quickened his pace. Stroud could still hear his wasting of words and blubbering nonsense as he made his way to the house. Soon, Ashyer rushed out with a rain slicker and two hunting guns instead of the one Stroud had requested. Ashyer readily bent to the work of removing the coffins from the cargo bay and onto the ground. He took an end and the three trips to the house were accomplished at about the same time the storm broke, sending mad sheets of glasslike rain over the land. Looking out the door from Stroud Manse, Abe thought it looked like midnight. Inside, he found it to be three p.m. He and Magaffey had been a long time at the caves.

  “How is Doctor Magaffey?” he asked Mrs. Ashyer.

  “He's asking for you, sir, but I think he needs a good rest. That ... that scar on his neck is very bad. He needs true medical attention. I did what I could, using his bag.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Ashyer,” he said, their eyes meeting, telling him that she did not blame him, but that she knew the cause of the calamity.

  “What're we to do sir?” she asked. “I mean, if they ... if they come?”

  “Stupid question, woman,” Ashyer said to her. “We fight for our lives, or we take our lives. Right, Doctor Stroud?”

  “I pray it will not come to that.”

  “But they're surely amassing against you, sir,” she said.

  “They are.” He rushed to Magaffey in the parlor where he'd been lain out on a blanket hastily thrown over the ottoman.

  “How're you feeling, old man?”

  “Like the poor guy who was nearly cut in two in The Pit and the Pendulum.”

  “Banaker's talons were like a pendulum the way he slashed across your neck.”

  “Tried to take my head off, I figure. Lost feeling to parts of my left side ... fingers especially, tingling all the way through my arm. First time I ever had to prescribe for myself anything stronger than aspirin.”

  “You're looking a great deal better than when I put you into the helicopter.”

  “I don't remember that.”

  “Rest now.”

  “Rest, how?”

  “You can't put pressure on that wound; it'll burst and you'll bleed to death, you understand, and I need you right now, so just rest, please!” he shouted.

  “Sure, sure, son.”

  Stroud frowned. “Sorry, but I mea
n it, Magaffey.”

  “Sounded like your granddad there for a moment. Look, Abe, what're we going to do?”

  “Right now, we sit out the storm. I've got some thinking to do.”

  “Thinking won't do the trick, son. Action. We need to take action.” Magaffey ended with a cough that racked his frame. Neither his color, which was ashen, nor his inability to speak without long hesitations, nor this coughing looked good to Stroud. He did need medical attention, but the only medical attention in Andover was Banaker's kind--and that kind no one needed. Little wonder most of the patients who checked into the Institute never checked out. What a clearing house and convenient conversion center. Take in the weakly human at his most vulnerable, when he is easy prey, and either feed on him or turn him to doing your bidding. How many people in Andover, in how many different walks of life, had been converted by the likeable, politic Dr. Oliver Banaker?

  He thought of Timmy Meyers in the hospital--revived by Banaker's bone marrow concoction, perhaps? Or had Magaffey gotten the boy out before that stage of his development toward becoming a full-fledged vampire? They might never know, but if they came through this alive, and if the Banaker people were put down, then a search would have to go out for the Meyerses, and Timmy would have to be brought back and tested. A simple blood test would be evidence enough.

  “I won't be long, Doctor,” Stroud told Magaffey.

  “The bodies? The evidence?” he wheezed.

  “Safely in house at the moment. Placed it in cold storage. We have a walk-in freezer here.”

  Magaffey nodded his approval before he closed his eyes and died. At first Stroud thought he'd just gone to sleep, but immediately after he sensed it. The old fellow was gone. Noble old man, he said silently to himself before informing the Ashyers. Ashyer and he placed the body in the freezer with the others.

  “You know, sir, they won't rest until everyone at Stroud Manse is dead,” said Ashyer glumly before leaving him alone with Magaffey once more.