Vampires of the Plains (Book 2): Blood Tells True

by Alan Ryker

  He pushed her farther, saying, “I don't know how far we can trust him anymore.”

  He and Douglas had turned Amy and kept her with them as insurance against the sheriff. They didn't trust her, though. No vampire really trusted another. But they didn't mistreat her and she didn't act out.

  Until she'd picked up that .40 caliber handgun and brought it home.

  She wasn't allowed guns. Having not fed on other vampires, her hands remained small enough to use one.

  “Why are you saying this?” she asked.

  Willie decided to show some cards. He didn't figure they'd all make it out of this conflict alive, and confusion could provide leeway.

  “I saw you take that gun.”

  She shook her head slowly, without conviction. She didn't speak.

  “Don't deny it. I can smell the oil and gunpowder right now. I could find it in your room in seconds.”

  She flexed the claws of one hand, then the other, but there was resignation in her eyes. With her bare hands, she was helpless against them. That's why she wanted the gun.

  “Calm down. You can keep your gun. You're lucky Douglas took that little peashooter or he'd have smelled it, too. Let me lay it out for you: I want to stay alive. I don't think that's likely with a hothead like Douglas around. You, on the other hand, know how to play it cool. If things go bad and someone has to go down, I'd rather it be Douglas than you.”

  “He's your friend,” she said, but the tension left her body even as she kept a skeptical look on her face. Good. If she thought she could play him, she thought she had a weapon in her arsenal she didn't. But he could also tell that she wanted to believe him, because Douglas was dangerous and unpredictable and she wanted an ally against him.

  “He used to be different,” he said.

  She nodded, but didn't commit any further. She really was sharp.

  “So you keep your gun. You've proven yourself to me, for what it's worth. But don't let Douglas see it.”

  She nodded.

  “I'm going to my room,” he said, and left her standing there.

  Chapter 9

  Jessica looked at her watch. Seven a.m. It had been good to get some sleep. She felt better rested than she had for several days.

  Fatty was still pressed against her back. His breath snuffled slowly in and out through his soft snout. Jessica rolled over and looked at Jack. Still sleeping. She gave Fatty a squeeze and pressed her face to his. He showed some annoyance at being awoken suddenly, but still licked her cheek.

  She sat up and stretched. She flexed her right knee. Somehow, despite all the craziness of the past several days, it felt mostly better. She stood, stepped over Jack and opened the door. Sunlight streamed in.

  “What the…?” Jack said, covering his eyes with his forearm.

  Jessica stepped back over him and went to the tool chest. She opened it and the rifle bag inside and pulled out the bottles she'd grabbed the previous night. She lined four up on the concrete, then looked at the shelves of old supplies. There sat a red metal gas can, just as she'd remembered. She filled the bottles, then took some old rags and started ripping them into strips.

  “Molotov cocktails?” Jack said.

  She nodded, then took the strips outside and poured gasoline over them. Squatting on her haunches, she jammed the rags in the necks of the bottles. It wasn't her preferred method, but she didn't have anything else to cork them up with.

  “So we're gonna burn the place down? That won't kill the vampires.”

  “They'll either burn in the fire or in the sun.”

  “No, they don't live in the house. They had a basement put in behind the house. It connects through the cellar.”

  “Shit,” Jessica said, sitting back. “Why didn't you tell me that?”

  “You don't seem to really care about my opinion.”

  “I don't give a damn about your opinions, but you need to give me the facts. The one thing you've got is information.” It sounded harsh, but she meant it to. “I figured they slept down in the cellar.”

  Jack didn't look at her. He stepped out through the door and looked down at the creek. “They used to, at first. Now the dogs live in the cellar, and there's a metal door that leads to this concrete bunker they had put in behind the house.”

  “Are there any other ways in or out?”

  “Not that I know of. They never let us down there.” She watched him get control of his temper. “If the house burns, it'd seal them in and suck all the air out. Will they suffocate?”

  “No. Vampires bury themselves all the time. They don't seem to need to breathe. Not much at least.” She finished with the Molotovs.

  “So what are we gonna do?” Jack asked.

  Jessica stared at the creek, too. This wouldn't be as simple as she'd hoped. She needed to remember that she wasn't dealing with dumb animals this time.

  “We're still going to burn the place down. Then we're going to hide nearby and make sure they don't dig their way out. Digging a couple feet out of soft earth is one thing. Digging up out of the rubble of a burned, collapsed house is another.” She'd been trying to dig her way out of the ashes of a burned up house for the past year, and felt nowhere near escaping.

  “What about Charlie and Gabe?” Jack asked.

  “I don't know. We'll have to deal with them when the time comes.”

  She had Jack park his beat-up Cutlass a half mile down the dirt road from the house. Jessica geared fully up, and in addition to her normal assortment of weapons, she selected from the rifle bag a Remington semi-automatic shotgun with three cartridges of buckshot in the tube and one in the chamber. It being daytime, she didn't think she'd have to deal with the vampires, but there was no reason to go in unprepared.

  “Holy shit,” Jack said. “You're a tank.”

  She couldn't help but enjoy the compliment. “I didn't survive this long by fighting fair,” she said, suppressing a smile.

  “So what do I get?” he asked.

  “You get to carry the explosives.” She gestured to the four Molotov cocktails sitting in an old oil quart box in the backseat. “Oh, and here are some zip-cuffs, for the humans.”

  “What about a gun?”

  “We had this discussion. You help me burn the house down and take care of the guards, and we'll talk. For now, take cover once the house is going.”

  Jack didn't look happy, but he didn't argue.

  Fatty looked even less happy about being left in the car.

  They jogged the half-mile to the house. It looked different to Jessica this time. Before, it had just seemed sad. Before, she'd thought some white-trash vampire hunters lived there. Now she saw it for what it was: a big, white tombstone. The grave below was the important thing. The dilapidated old house just marked the spot.

  Jessica crouched behind a scrubby tree. Jack came trotting up behind, wheezing. Apparently, he didn't get much exercise.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Let me get in position at the back of the house. I'll shout. You toss a cocktail at the front door, then through a window on the west side. Then fall back. Find somewhere to hide. I'll throw a cocktail at the back door, then through a window on the east side. The humans will either make it out or they won't. If they do, I order them the ground at gunpoint and cover you while you cuff their hands behind their backs.”

  Jack's wheezing didn't stop. He audibly sipped at the air. It was fear. His skin was pale, and his eyes wide and dilated.

  “Calm down. Your part is easy. Just wait for me to shout, then light and toss the cocktail at the door. No problem.” She patted his shoulder. He looked at her hand, then at her face with those big, terrified eyes.

  “I know. No problem. This is for my family.” He took two bottles and a lighter. “You just give the word.”

  Real bravery wasn't being unafraid. It was feeling afraid and doing what had to be done anyway. She couldn’t remember where she’d read that, but understood the meaning of it now. Jessica wouldn't shame him any further
by recognizing his fear. She took off running.

  She jogged low. The grass, which hadn't been cropped by either mower or cattle, made perfect cover. She looped wide, then ducked down behind a rusted-out, broken-down old Ford truck not twenty yards from the back door. She sat down one cocktail, and lit the rag of the second.

  “Now!” she shouted. On the rare occasions she talked, she talked deep. She had a low voice anyway for a girl, but she recognized that it wasn't the voice of someone to fear. But her shout was high and a bit embarrassing. Still, it carried.

  She threw her cocktail at the back door. The gasoline splashed across the dry wood and exploded into flame. She ran to the east side of the house, lit her second cocktail and threw it through a window. Inside, where there had been darkness, orange light suddenly erupted.

  But Jessica kept moving, circling around again to the front, where she thought the men would most likely choose to exit. Jack had done a good job; the front door and stairs burned. The men could leave, but they wouldn't have time to think. She'd capitalize on the chaos. Earlier, she'd spotted a thick tree from behind which she'd have both good cover and a clear line of sight on the house.

  Jack was already there. He clung to the back of the tree, watching around the opposite corner, and fell over when Jessica said, “Good work.”

  He quickly got back to cover and nodded to her. She smiled at him as she freed her shotgun and aimed around the right side of tree.

  She'd figured they'd be sitting in the front room, which would make the front of the house the most likely path out, especially with cocktails flying in behind them.

  She'd figured right. The front door opened, but whoever opened it leapt back as they brought the flames from the burning door in with them. He came back into view. It was the big one. He minced back and forth, unable to make himself go through the burning portal and down the burning stairs. Finally, he stepped away out of view.

  A moment later a window opened, and the big one jammed himself into it. He got stuck. The windows weren't big, and he was. He had one leg out, and one arm out, and his head ducked under the window with it pressed against the back of his neck. After that, he had no leverage to push himself forward, and no thought of pressing himself back into the flame.

  “Charlie's stuck,” Jack said.

  “He'll get loose.” Jessica thought he probably would, once the flames had tickled his ass a bit.

  Then Charlie started screaming. And he started crying.

  “I've gotta help him,” Jack said.

  Jessica snatched at him, but it was too late. The skinny kid sprinted to the window and started pulling on Charlie's hairy, outstretched arm.

  “Get back here!” she shouted, but then Charlie fell out of the window and onto Jack.

  Jack disappeared for a moment. Jessica could see a thin arm searching for purchase on anything, but that was it. Then Charlie stood, and he brought Jack up with him. He forced Jack up on his tiptoes with a thick forearm beneath his neck. His big, furry head swung back and forth, and Jessica knew he hadn't seen her yet.

  She abandoned the shotgun and pulled her .45, then worked her way into the tall grass. Creeping forward, she stopped whenever Charlie's gaze passed over her. He couldn't see her through the grass and through his own adrenaline haze. He talked to Jack, but Jessica couldn't hear what he said. And it didn't matter. Only a clear shot mattered.

  Then bullets popped, and she heard them whiz past her. She fell back onto her ass. In the open window, over Charlie and Jack's heads, stood Gabe. He threw a leg over the sill and took more careful aim.

  Jessica shot him in the chest. Then again. He fell back into the house, his leg still over the sill. She shot him in the shin. He didn't move.

  The time for stealth had passed. She advanced on Charlie with her .45 aimed at his head. His eyes grew huge as he lifted Jack completely up off his feet. Red-faced, Jack scratched furiously at the massive arm. Then Charlie dropped him and fell to his knees, holding his hands over his head.

  “Please. Please. Please,” he said.

  “Get on your face.” Jessica didn't lower her gun until he had. She pulled her metal cuffs from the case on her belt. “Hands behind your back.”

  She put the barrel of the gun against the space where his skull met his spine and pressed hard as she slapped the cuff on one wrist, then the other with her left hand.

  Jack coughed and grasped at his throat. He certainly wasn't pale anymore. She felt bad for him and pissed at him at the same time.

  “Sit up,” she said.

  Charlie got to his knees.

  “That was dumb,” Jessica said. She holstered the .45 and pulled a hunting knife. “I was gonna let you live. Figured you were just a pawn. But if you're gonna fight for those freaks—”

  “I don't give a shit about them,” Charlie said, spit flying. “I was confused.”

  “You were confused when you were feeding them junkies?”

  Charlie stuttered.

  Jessica let him, then hushed him. “We need to go now, before people show up. Why shouldn't I execute you and shove you back in the door?” She tested the edge of her knife with her thumb. She never really did that, but it seemed like the thing to do at that moment.

  “I'll help you,” Charlie said. “Take me with you. I'll help you.” He turned to Jack. “I'm sorry, Jack. I just didn't know what was happening. Tell her that I'll help.”

  Jack glared at him.

  “I know about the vampires. I can help.”

  “Okay. You've convinced me,” Jessica said. “For now. Let's go. Quick.”

  By the time she retrieved her spent brass and her shotgun and they were on their way, the flames had burst from the windows and lapped at the sparse old paint. The building was tinder dry, and going up quick.

  “Maybe they'll cook in there,” Jack said.

  Jessica nodded. “Maybe.”

  “This is one of my safe houses,” Jack said as he pulled into a drive that was nothing more than two tire tracks through tall grass. Fifty yards in stood a sun-weathered grey house.

  The tire tracks continued around the house, and so did Jack. He finally parked where the car couldn't be seen from the road.

  “You don't think the neighbors have noticed the tracks?” Jessica asked.

  Jack shrugged. “If they have, they aren't curious enough to come knocking.”

  Jessica nodded and got out of the back seat. “Get the gun bag,” she said to Jack.

  “I thought I wasn't—”

  “Shut up.”

  He chuckled as he went to the trunk and lifted the heavy sack out.

  Jessica wasn't chuckling as she opened Big Charlie's door. He looked at her blankly. She understood the contempt in his expression. The shock had worn off and he was thinking, and she knew what he was thinking: that a teenage girl literally half his size couldn't be that dangerous.

  “Get out,” she said.

  He turned his bulk and placed his big, booted feet on the ground, then stood. Jessica was tall, but he dwarfed her, and seemed to enjoy looming over her, even with his hands cuffed behind his back.

  The bastard had made her kill someone. The idiots. Getting themselves killed for vampires, fanged corpses who fed on humans. Some sort of intense Stockholm syndrome. She killed livestock. She killed vampires, but they were less than animals and already dead. She didn’t kill people.

  There seemed to be a shield around her brain that left her half numb, half furious. But sharp spikes of guilt and horror stabbed through chinks in her armor before they could seal up again. Each time one did, and as she watched that idiot's smug face, her rage grew.

  Jessica stomped the front of Charlie's left knee, staggering him, then smashed her shin into the side of it. He went down. She grabbed two handfuls of greasy hair and plowed her knee into his face, yanking his head down into it. His nose burst over her pants and she threw him back by the hair. He collapsed backwards, unconscious.

  “Holy shit,” Jack said. “He's cuffed up.�
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  She looked at him and slowly nodded, then looked back at Charlie. Fatty had hopped out of the car and snuffled at the big man's bloody, mashed nose.

  “You should go warn your family,” Jessica said.

  “Warn them of what? That goddamn vampires are coming?”

  “Tell them you got in trouble with some bad people.”

  “You know what they'll do. They'll call the sheriff.”

  “Go do what you can, Jack.”

  He looked at the body in the grass. “I don't think I should leave you here.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Obviously, but can you reel yourself in? Don't kill him. He's not a bad guy.”

  Blood flooded Jessica's head. Her vision went to points. “Not a bad guy?” she shouted. “He works for vampires. The other one shot at you. They are bad guys and what is happening to them now is what they goddamn well deserve!”

  Jack looked away from her. “I worked for the vampires, too.”

  Her lips pulled back into a snarl. “And what you're getting now is what you deserve. Go. Now. Or your family is going to get your deserts, instead.”

  He didn't look at her as he got in the car and drove away.

  Jessica took a rope from her hiking pack and tied one end around Charlie's neck, then sat on the cracked concrete slab that served as a back porch.

  “Get over here, Fatty. You don't know what that junkie's got.”

  She tied Fatty's leash to a porch post.

  The day got warm. The sun moved higher in the blue, cloudless sky. A nice breeze rhythmically pressed the long prairie grasses all in the same direction.

  Except for the big bag of guns and the bleeding scumbag, it was a peaceful scene. But Charlie regained consciousness soon enough. He groaned for awhile, then looked around until he saw Jessica.

  “I can't breathe through my nose. You broke my nose,” he said. He talked like he had a bad cold.

  “I didn't like how you were looking at me.”