by Alan Ryker
Once she'd become a rebellious teenager, she threw out her dresses and wore tight jeans and inappropriate shirts. She'd been a party girl who had probably nearly cost him elections.
But she was his daughter, and it was a phase that some people went through and then grew out of.
As she rose to her feet and looked at him with solid black eyes, her pallid white body smeared with grime from navel to forehead, he knew that she wouldn't grow out of this.
But it was too late to go back. If he turned against them now, they'd destroy him. And it wasn't just that. They didn't have to actively seek out to ruin him. He'd lain down with the dogs for too long, and a close inspection by anyone would reveal plenty of fleas on his filthy hide.
Amy watched him without much expression, except that her face seemed to morph beyond her control. Maybe the exertion had brought out the beast, or maybe she'd sensed Jessica's hostile presence, but it didn’t seem to require conscious effort for her features to become human again. Her gaze did not. It did not contain human emotion, and it certainly didn't contain a daughter's affection.
But the face. And though he knew it was an illusion, her exposed body looked as thin and as fragile as it ever had when she'd been—human.
He was tired. Deep down in his bones. Deep down in the soul he wondered if he really had, a soul which he knew was damned if it existed at all. Even with the promise of Hell, the thought of putting the muzzle of his shotgun in his mouth and pulling the trigger brought a moment of peace.
Then Douglas spoke. “The Harris girl stood right there, and you let her leave.”
Yoder only nodded. Even the rage in Douglas's face and voice didn't scare away his weariness. As he got back into the cruiser, he said, “I came here to warn you that she's still around. Now you know.”
Douglas began to move forward but Willie gripped his shoulder. “Thank you, Sheriff,” Willie said.
Yoder nodded again, started the cruiser and backed out onto the dirt road. He didn't know where to go. At home, his wife sat exhausted but unable to sleep at the thought that Amy had been in that house when it burned down. He'd tried to suggest that she'd survived, but couldn't give assurances. His wife didn't know that Amy was a vampire. She still thought of her daughter as a drugged-out party girl.
He wanted to choose a direction and drive. Maybe straight into an ocean. It would be a long drive from Kansas, but it would be peaceful.
Instead, he turned toward town. Events were coming to a head. He wouldn't make it out unscathed. He didn't know if he wanted to even try. But he needed to be there regardless, when everything went to hell.
Chapter 15
Willie heard them skulking nearer. He'd felt each footstep reverberate through the ground. He'd heard every word they whispered. It would have been funny, if it hadn't been Jessica Harris.
Jack surprised him. He'd figured Jack for a coward.
Vibrations of anger buzzed through the soil from Douglas. Willie sensed it in the way Douglas tore his way up, struggling straight for the muzzles of guns that would likely end him. Willie didn't feel too bad about that. Douglas would be a problem, and he didn't mind if Jessica took care of that problem for him.
As Willie lay there in the ground, as Douglas furiously clawed his way to the surface nearby, he wondered how he himself would get out. He supposed he could stay there for quite awhile. He probably had the patience to outlast Jessica.
Luckily, Sheriff Yoder had showed up and he didn't have to find out.
Yoder left quickly, and Willie didn't know how much longer he would be useful. That was alright. It was time to move on, so Yoder had nearly outlived his usefulness anyway.
Afterward, Douglas seethed, but Willie thought that for once his anger might be constructive, and he didn't try to calm him. “We have to find that bitch. I'm not going to hide like a rabbit from some human.”
“I agree.”
“But how? She's like that game where the animals keep popping out of the ground.”
“Whack-a-mole,” Amy said.
“Shut up!” Douglas roared.
Amy maintained the blank gaze, but her muscles subtly tensed. Willie felt it, and he knew Douglas felt it, too. Douglas was about to go off. It was time to aim him at something.
“We visit Jack's parents.”
“I don't give a fuck about Jack's parents.” Douglas's lips had peeled back, and he sucked at the venom that dripped from his mouth.
“But Jack does. And he knows that we know that. If he can, he'll convince Jessica to go there.”
Douglas didn't reply; he just started running. Willie followed. Amy did, too, though he sensed her slipping further and further behind. They didn't slow for her.
Douglas didn't pause as they approached the double-wide. Willie did. He trotted and sniffed the air. Jessica and Jack hadn't arrived yet.
Douglas charged up the steps and through the door. It hit the opposite wall and bounced shut behind him. Willie snorted and followed after.
It would seem like chaos if the world hadn't slowed for him. Willie stood in the living room and took it in. He smelled blood, the dark, rich blood of the internal organs. Douglas sat perched atop something on the couch. Something that didn't quite know it was dead yet. Jack's cousin, Bobby. A shotgun lay on the floor beside the couch. The hand that had held the shotgun flopped spasmodically at the end of a broken wrist. Douglas had disarmed and eviscerated Bobby before the boy had even had time to awaken. At the rate that Douglas drained the body, it was likely Bobby never knew what was happening.
Willie smelled Jack's parents. He smelled the burst of adrenaline in their bodies. It made him hungry. He let his lower jaw hang as it grew, and he followed the scent into the bedroom.
Jack's father—Willie didn't know his name—was reaching for the top drawer to his nightstand. It held a gun. Willie covered the room in two strides and kicked the drawer shut before the old man had opened it an inch. The nightstand exploded, with only the wood-grain patterned laminate holding the cheap pulpboard together.
Jack's mother screamed. A high-pitched scream, almost like a whistle, so loud and sharp that it hurt Willie's sensitive ears. He looked at her, considering the quickest way to shut her up without killing her. He wanted them alive, so he needed to get them under control before Douglas finished feeding on Bobby.
Jack's father, Mr. Benson, grabbed Willie's arm and yanked it. Willie was strong, but wasn't heavy, and almost toppled over onto the bed. Rage filled him and he flipped his wrist around, grabbing Mr. Benson's. He yanked and twisted it, using it to flip the old man onto his face and then pressing it up between his shoulder blades. Willie could hear tendons and muscles in the tight old shoulder shift, then pop and snap. He hadn't intended to do that, but he didn't feel too bad about it.
Mr. Benson finally bellowed.
Willie held him like that, pinned face first to the bed, and he looked at Mrs. Benson. She would do one of two things.
She lunged at him.
Good. That meant she would live.
If she'd run, Douglas might have gotten her. Instead, Willie shoved her away and grabbed the sheet. He began to tie Mr. Benson up with it, pausing occasionally to bat Mrs. Benson away again. Still, she got her nails into him a few times, drawing viscous black blood resembling a wetter version of the filth that already covered him.
He was hungry, but he didn't take even a bite. He finished tying up Jack's father, then tied up Jack's mother. As he did, Mr. Benson alternated between growling in rage and moaning in pain through the thick twist of bed sheet between his teeth.
Willie was surprised that once he turned his attention away from the mister, the missus calmed down and didn't struggle that much as she herself was bound.
He finished the whole process in barely more than a minute. Willie listened, focusing his hearing outside the house, on the neighbors' houses. There hadn't even been enough shouting to alert anyone.
Douglas strolled into the bedroom. Blood dripped from his chin and slid down
his neck.
“Now we wait?” he asked. The blood had him calm, almost human.
“Yeah. Can't be long.”
Douglas nodded, but then said, “That Jack's a coward. Maybe he isn't coming. What's the plan then?”
“I dunno.”
“I'll tell you what. They don't show up, I'm thinking I might just kill everybody.”
“What do you mean 'everybody?'“
“I mean the whole damn town. Something's been growing in me, man. I'm just about done playing by rules.” He looked at Willie with glossy black eyes. “You know what I'm saying?”
Willie nodded. “I think I do. It's probably time to part ways after this.”
“I think that'd be for the best.” Suddenly Douglas's relaxed face twisted. “Hey, where's Amy?”
“You ran too fast for her.” Willie let his eyes unfocus and searched for the repulsive sensation of nearby vampires. “She's close. Should be here in a minute.”
“Good.” Douglas looked over the two trussed-up humans. He appeared calm, but Willie prepared himself to intervene. “We probably only need one of them. Want to share one?”
“I think we'll need them both. I figure we'll kill one in front of Jack to show him we mean business.”
At that, the humans began struggling. Willie watched Douglas's face contort as their fear brought out his hunger. He watched Douglas's claws sink into the door frame he'd been lazily leaning against. The vampire's hunger infuriated him. Forget the humans, he wanted nothing more than to rip Douglas's throat out and glut himself on his rich, clotted blood.
“I'd better wait in the other room,” Douglas said. “You got them?”
Willie nodded. “When Amy shows, let her know what's up.”
Douglas snorted and walked out.
Willie walked over to the crushed nightstand and kicked the boards around. He found the gun. A big snub-nosed revolver, probably a .357. That'd put a big hole in somebody. He tried to slip his finger through the trigger guard, but couldn't get the claw through even to the first knuckle. His hands hadn't been like this at first. They used to go almost back to human when he wasn't feeding. But it was like the pull of the tendons and muscles had finally changed the shape of his bones.
He tossed the gun aside. When he got angry, it wouldn't feel natural to use it even if he could have.
Willie turned back to the couple on the bed. They'd rolled on their sides to face each other. He'd hogtied them, wrists to ankles behind their backs. They had their foreheads pressed together.
Jack's mother was dark. That's where he got the Native from. She was pretty. High forehead. Big brown eyes. She was kind of plump, and had little titties, but she was pretty for an older lady.
Didn't matter though. Willie recognized it, but it didn't matter to him. He didn't feel those things anymore. Yeah, he had some new desires, but mostly, he had the hole. The emptiness.
He heard Jack's car coming from a few blocks away.
“Hey,” Douglas shouted from the other room.
“I know,” Willie called back. “Get in here. We'll each take one.”
Douglas came through the door, stooped over, all claws and dripping fangs.
“Papa dies,” Willie said.
“Then he's mine.” Douglas stared at Willie, giving just the barest hint that he was waiting for a challenge.
Willie had to wonder, if they both survived Jessica, if they'd be able to part ways peacefully. He nodded. Douglas untied Mr. Benson's ankles and yanked him to his feet. He laughed when Benson groaned and slapped the old man on his hurt shoulder. “Had to get a bit rough with them, huh?”
Willie shrugged as he freed Mrs. Benson's feet. They all walked into the living room.
“Inside or outside?” Douglas asked.
“There a back door?”
“Through there.” He nodded to the kitchen.
“We'll do it in here, then. Funnel them.”
Douglas nodded, then looked at the Bensons. “Behave or you end up like little Bobby.”
In their fear, the couple had apparently forgotten about Bobby. The room was dark, but Willie watched their eyes try to pull details from the mess on the couch. Jack's mother fell to her knees and wept.
“No tears. It gets worse before it gets… No, it just gets worse,” Douglas said as Willie pulled her back to her feet.
Willie heard the car creep to a stop outside. They rolled slowly, but the brakes still gave out a little squeal. The headlights were off, as if that made a difference, as if he hadn't been able to recognize the specific rumble of Jack's car's engine from a half mile away. As if he couldn't smell them already, Jack's fear and Jessica's anger.
Anger…
Goddamn. She wasn't afraid.
Chapter 16
“It doesn't look like they're here,” Jack said. “God, my dad is gonna flip when he sees us.”
People would flip. The vampires had brought the fight to town. Jessica could wish that they'd stand out in a well-lit courtyard and let her gun them down, but it didn't make sense. This made sense. Forcing her into close combat. Leading her around blind corners.
And putting other people in harm's way. People like Jack's mom and dad. And others who, when the shooting started, might recognize her.
A paintball mask sat perched atop her head. She slid it over her face as they walked up to Jack's house. She carried the shotgun at her shoulder, but lowered it for a moment to run her left hand along her belt. Hatchet, hunting knife, hunting knife, folding knife. Her stun gun hung from her wrist. Machete at her thigh. .45 in her shoulder holster. .32 on her ankle. It was her version of counting rosary.
She was loaded for bear, but for vampires? For intelligent vampires? She didn't know.
It didn't matter. She let the emptiness swallow her. No fear, because it didn't matter. No rage, because it didn't matter. A thrill—a thorny vine of adrenaline—ran from her heart through the arteries of her neck to her brain, but that was nothing more than chemistry. Her body hadn't learned yet that win or lose, dead or alive, it didn't matter, that she simply did what she had to do. However things turned out, she didn't have a future. She had no past she wanted to remember. She had nothing in the world but that moment.
Jessica walked up the short flight of stairs to the front door, shotgun at the ready. She reached out with her left foot and pushed the door just a bit. It swung slowly open, revealing a busted frame.
So the vampires were there. She flipped on the flashlight beneath the barrel of the shotgun, and for a moment she saw only a middle-aged couple. Then she saw the vampires, covered in dirt and blood and taking cover behind Jack's parents. They watched each other silently for a moment before Jack leaned around her.
“What are you guys doing?” he asked. He spoke to his parents. He hadn't seen the vampires behind them, and the smell must not have hit him yet.
Then one of the vampires spoke. “It's weird to think we're meeting for the first time, Jessica. I feel like I know you.”
“If you knew me, you'd have run while you had the chance,” Jessica said.
Jack had pressed himself against her back to see into the house, and she felt his body stiffen at the voice, as understanding jolted through him.
“Get away from them!” he shouted. He pushed his shotgun over Jessica's shoulder, but he had no shot. He pushed against her, and she had to brace her left knee against the doorframe to keep from falling into the trailer.
“Calm down, Jack,” she said. But there was no way to stop him without lowering her gun, which she wasn't about to do. Jack slipped past her on the right, stumbled and fell to his knees. He kept hold of his shotgun and swung it back and forth.
His mother's huge eyes tracked it.
“Take another step and they both die,” said the one who spoke before, the one behind Jack's mother. He pulled her up onto her toes. The one holding Jack's father just growled.
Jack got to his feet, but stayed where he was. “They haven't done anything to you. Let them go.”
“You're right. This isn't about them. It's about you. You're a traitor. You're a goddamn… Who was that guy? Benedict Arnold. But you can save them. Kill Jessica.”
Jessica didn't move. Not even her eyes. She knew that they watched her, and that they only needed one instant of distraction. But she watched Jack in her peripheral vision. Neither his head nor his gun turned.
“I can't do that. But you can have me.”
A huge, clawed hand snaked around the old man's throat and gripped it. “Kill her,” rumbled a barely-human voice. Jessica thought it must be Douglas, and the other must be Willie.
“I can't!” Jack's voice broke as he shouted. Jessica could hear the tears, hear the thickness in his voice. But he didn't move an inch.
The grimy hand closed. The old man inhaled sharply and went stiff as five long claws slid into his neck on either side of his esophagus. The hand opened and disappeared. Jack's father's shoulders heaved as he tried to wrench his bound hands loose. Jessica imagined his overwhelming desire to press them over the holes now spurting blood.
Jack wailed and stepped forward, and a hand appeared around his mother's throat. “No,” Willie said.
Douglas held Jack's father up. His eyes soon lost focus. His head drooped. For another few moments, the blood continued to pour out. Then the body hit the floor.
Jack and Jessica each swiveled their shotguns to the space over the dead man, but no one stood there. Douglas had stepped behind Willie.
“I remember that you and your dad didn't get along. I can understand letting him die. But you love your mom.” The claws squeezed her throat a bit tighter, then relaxed. Tears rolled down her face. Willie peered over her shoulder with calm black eyes that reflected the flashlight. “Kill Jessica now, Jack. This is your mother. She loves you.”
Jack finally glanced over his shoulder at Jessica.
She could blow him away and have her gun back on the vampires in a split second. She didn't, but it didn't mean she wouldn't.