Low-Skilled Job (Vol. 2): Low-Skilled Job

by Keller, Roger

  Riverton was basically a smaller, crappier version of my town, who’s name I won’t mention here. Heather drove us through the revitalized waterfront project. We didn’t get far before we found a huge, weird hotel. Heather and Misty wanted to check it out, naturally.

  The Hamilton was horribly out of place in Riverton, or any other town in the Midwest. As we walked through the gold accented glass doors I could tell something was off about the place. Dust clung to every surface in the lobby. It seemed that nobody in Riverton even wanted to work housekeeping there. The hotel wasn’t just empty, it was shunned.

  “This place is so phony,” Misty said.

  We walked around some sharp rusty modern art, that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a scrap-yard.

  “It’s something, all right,” Heather said.

  “Let’s find someplace else,” I said. “This place is weird.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Heather put her arm around me and rested her head on mine. “Don’t you want to find out why?”

  We passed a lonely employee who shuffled noiselessly by and I realized what was wrong. Heather nodded at him. Misty got it a second later when he re-appeared at the check-in desk.

  “Your group is,” the clerk pointed at Heather and said in an odd Southern sounding accent, “rather small for traveling long distances. So you must be from nearby. From whose territory did you originate?”

  A curved, dark red claw split Misty’s thumbnail. The clerk barley noticed it.

  “I come from Lee Stoner’s town,” Heather said, with a hint of defiance.

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “I haven’t been that way in over fifty years. I’m Aaron by the way. Is there anything you might need during your stay?”

  “We’re doing OK,” Heather said.

  The clerk looked me up and down. “I see you have a servant.”

  “So, you guys have a hotel all for yourselves?” Misty said.

  “Not really, we don’t discriminate.” The clerk smiled condescendingly. “We do keep our prices high though, to keep out the human riff-raff, my dear.”

  Aaron was slick. There were no outward clues to what he was. I could tell he was the kind of vampire that considered Heather gauche. Despite his blonde choirboy appearance, I knew he was very old and evil, and playing night clerk was just a distraction for him.

  Heather took out a roll of hundred dollar bills.

  “It’s on the house.” Aaron handed her an old fashioned brass key.

  Heather shrugged. “Grab our bags, Michael.”

  “This is a bad idea,” I said under my breath as I lugged all our gear up the green carpeted stairs like a bellboy.

  “Probably,” Heather said.

  *****

  Our hotel room was bigger than my apartment. Expensive furniture and art sat under a layer of dust. There was a full living room set and even a pool table. Heather tossed the eight ball at the painting hanging over the bed. The ball bounced off the canvas and landed on a pillow. I dumped our gear by the door.

  “He had no clue what you are,” Heather said. “What a dork.”

  “It’s probably better if he doesn't know,” Misty said. “He might be offended.”

  “He might try and do something stupid,” Heather said, “like kill us. I don’t give a fuck if he’s offended. I know he looks like, all cute and everything, but you don’t get that old without stepping over a few dead bodies.”

  “How old do you think he is?” Misty’s voice faded into the background.

  The room changed around me. From the style of TV and the cable guide on the dresser, it looked like twenty years had just rolled back. A blonde woman in a towel padded out of the steamy bathroom. She looked over the business clothes that were laid out on the bed. The door lock disengaged. The woman froze, knowing something was really wrong, but unwilling to take the next step and act.

  Aaron pushed the door open. The woman sighed, relieved. Aaron flashed his boy-band, non threatening smile. The woman gripped her hotel-white towel and smiled back.

  I staggered around, trying to get the images out of my head. Someone I couldn’t see grabbed my shoulders.

  The images became fragmented. The businesswoman screamed and ran for the bathroom. Aaron followed at a leisurely pace, shedding his hotel jacket along the way. He reduced the bathroom door to splinters with his claws, gleefully enjoying the destruction.

  “We shouldn’t disturb him,” Misty said, from somewhere. “Sit him down on the bed.”

  I watched Aaron drag the naked woman across the floor by her hair. He didn’t need to use physical force. He could have just controlled the businesswoman the way Heather puppeteered her victims. She fought him all the way to the bed and he loved every minute of it. Aaron unzipped his pants with one hand while he sliced the struggling woman open with his free claws.

  “I’ve seen enough,” I said, hoping Heather would shake me out of it.

  Everything went dark, but only for a second. Fragmented images flashed by. Aaron chased a young girl through a forest. The girl wore a prairie dress and bonnet. Aaron wore clothes that went out of fashion before the Spanish American War. The girl tripped and Aaron was on her a second later. She struggled as he closed his fingers around her neck. When it was done he lay there, breathing hard, looking up at the stars with human eyes.

  The scene shifted and I found myself looking at a rocky field by a dirt crossroads. A dying fire smoldered around three charred wooden poles. Blackened skeletons lay in the ashes at the base of each pole. A group of Old West era townspeople stood in a wretched terrified pack. They brandished shovels and other re-purposed farming implements. I saw a few shotguns and converted muskets, but most were so destitute that they couldn’t afford firearms.

  Aaron stood there, apart from the mob. He was dressed immaculately in the style of an East Coast dandy. The look clashed with the Colt Peacemakers and his custom gun belt.

  The images started to fade and when they re-focused I was in a 1960s commune. The psychedelic painted walls were splattered with blood. Janis Joplin shrieked on a damaged turntable. Long haired Aaron weaved through the cluttered room like a shark. He swung a black Armalite rifle back and forth, casually shooting the fallen artists that littered the floor.

  I snapped back to reality and almost fell off the edge of the rock hard, hotel bed. Heather and Misty were sitting on the other bed watching TV with the sound off. I paced around the room, trying to get my head straight. Misty opened her mouth to say something. Heather held up a finger to quiet her. I raided the mini-bar and mixed a drink with schnapps, whiskey, and rum. After taking a deep breath I downed the entire glass. Heather raised an eyebrow while I re-filled the glass with several mini-bottles of cranberry vodka.

  “Wow,” Misty said.

  I sat down next to Heather and sipped the warm, sickeningly sweet, flavored vodka. We all sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes while I tried to think.

  “So, Mike,” Heather said. “What did you see?” She rubbed my back.

  “I’m going to kill Aaron,” I said.

  “Why?” Misty said.

  “He’s like a serial killer,” I said. “He’s fucking evil.”

  “Yeah, some of us are pretty evil,” Heather said. “You know this. Like, Lee has probably killed thousands of people. He-”

  “Aaron’s not like you guys,” I said. “He raped and killed a woman in this fucking room.”

  “What?” Heather’s eyes flashed orange.

  I put down my drink and walked over to the other bed. It was just a hunch, but I flipped the mattress. There were twenty year old bloodstains all over it.

  “Oh sick,” Misty said. “Why-”

  “Why wouldn’t he just throw it away?” Heather said. “There’s no way to get that clean. He just turned it over?”

  “I think he did it to fuck with us,” I said. “I bet he gets off on knowing people are sleeping on that.” I kicked the mattress.

  Heather grabbed her Pelican case and threw it on t
he unsoiled bed.

  “I think we should probably leave,” Misty said.

  “Nobody’s leaving.” Heather opened the case. It was full of assorted compartmentalized weapons. I reached past her and grabbed a huge Bowie knife.

  “This’ll work,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few.”

  I kissed Heather on the cheek and she made a face.

  “Mike, you are not thinking clearly,” she said. “Like, whatever you just saw fucked with your head, that and the booze you just guzzled down. Aaron’s at his strongest right now. Sit down and think about it for a second.”

  Heather grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. She caught the Bowie knife by the blade with her fingertips and tried to pull it loose. I didn’t let go. Neither did she. We sat back down on the bed. Heather found my drink and handed it to me. Misty paced around us, occasionally peeking into the Pelican case.

  “I vote we just go,” Misty said. “He might have friends.”

  “Who the fuck said anybody gets to vote?” Heather said. “Aaron fucked with us. He’s probably down there laughing about it. But that fucker doesn’t know who he’s messing with.” Heather patted me on the back.

  “Wow, so, this is how it’s gonna be,” Misty said, “like some kind of war.”

  “Not usually,” Heather said. “And Misty, living in a war zone is what most people in this world have to deal with every day. It’s the way I grew up. You were never safe from it, never sheltered. It was always out there waiting. You just weren’t aware of it ‘till now.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Misty said.

  “No shit.” I mumbled to myself, thinking about the night we got the book back.

  “You’ll get used to it.” Heather squeezed Misty’s shoulder. “Your mind just wants to slip back into old human patterns. Like, it takes time to adjust. You know the right answers. Don’t doubt yourself.”

  “Somebody’s coming,” Misty said. “It’s him. I can tell.”

  Heather smiled. I stood up without thinking, found a place by the door and set my glass of vodka on the unused clothes rack. The lock clicked a second later.

  Aaron pushed the door open and strode into the room. His right arm shot out as he passed me. The room went fuzzy and everything turned black and white. I saw his blurry little hand, complete with short, curved talons, in front of my face. Everything eased back into focus a second later.

  Misty stood motionless next to the bed, her eyes darting around. Aaron and Heather faced off in the center of the room. Occasionally one of them would make a move, too fast for me to see. But, they kept out of range of each other’s claws.

  “I love a challenge,” Aaron said, with his back to me “It’s been so long since-”

  He stopped cold when I swung the Bowie knife. Aaron screamed. The huge blade severed his leg just above the knee. He remained upright and tried to turn. I swung the blade again, embedding it in the dense bone around his other knee. I ducked his claws and twisted the blade loose with both hands. Heather moved above me. A loud, dull crack echoed through the room and Aaron’s body shuddered. The damaged knee gave way. I swung one more time and sent him to the floor.

  Heather stood over the body breathing hard. “Damn. He was tougher than I thought.”

  Aaron’s neck was broken, but he wasn’t dead, yet. His head rolled, hideously independent of his legless body.

  “What the fuck are you?” he said, trying to turn his head toward me. “You shouldn’t even be able to move.”

  “You still enjoying your challenge?” Heather said. “Hey, Mike is Misty still frozen?”

  “No. I’m OK.” Misty circled the room, confused and shaking her head.

  “What in hell is he?” Aaron reached for Heather’s leg, his arm writhing like a snake.

  Misty appeared next to the crippled vampire. “He’s a hunter, you asshole.” She drove her pink boot into his chest.

  “What did you do to him?” I said. “His neck is fucked.”

  “I kicked him in the head,” Heather said.

  “Why isn’t he bleeding?” Misty hugged Heather, still working through the effects of Aaron’s glamour.

  “’Cause he’s hungry,” Heather said.

  “For our blood?” Misty said.

  “He could drink our blood,” Heather said. “But that’s not why he’s here. I think he’s like, just a psycho.”

  Aaron laughed maniacally. His disembodied legs began to twitch, then move. Oxford clad feet pushed each leg forward an inch at a time.

  “Oh, fuck no.” I kicked the severed limbs into the bathroom and slammed the door. “That’s it, I’m cutting his head off.”

  “Wait,” Heather said. “I wanna ask him some things.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Why the fuck not?”

  “Who runs this town?” Heather circled Aaron. “Tell me or I’ll let my hunter take his time killing you. You’re already fucked. The only thing left to decide is how long it takes you to die.”

  “Go fuck yourself, you stupid bitch,” he said, through his twisted throat. “He does not impress me. How old are you, blondie? Thirty, maybe? You know nothing.”

  Misty covered the blood stained mattress with a blanket while they talked. She paced around, checking doors and windows, sensing something. I looked around and found my shockingly un-spilled drink.

  “Look, Aaron, I might not kill you,” Heather said. “I hate to cheat hell, but maybe I’ll just take your legs and your arms and your teeth and leave.”

  “I could still be repaired,” he said, weighing his options. “There are ways.”

  “I know they can fix you, but they probably won’t,” she said. “If your friends find you in that state, all fucked up, defeated like a punk. Well, you know how it goes.”

  Aaron let out a frustrated scream. Misty spun around, claws out. Heather didn’t even flinch. I raised my glass and laughed.

  “Fuck you, you and your fuckin’ girlfriend,” he pointed at me, “and this drunk-ass bum, fuck him too.”

  “So, you want us to leave you alive?” Heather said.

  It took Aaron a second to calm down. “No. What do you want?”

  “Who runs this town?” Heather said.

  “And if I tell you,” he said, “you give your word, you will finish me. I suppose I deserve it. My father always said I was bound for hell.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you,” Heather said, “him and a lot of your friends, I bet.”

  “Duchess DeVoss claims this town, along with a few others,” he said. “I hope you all get to meet them soon.”

  “How many?” Heather said.

  “I don’t know,” Aaron said. “It varies. Just like with humans, no one likes this town, no one stays long, unless they have business here. I’d say, no more than a hundred.”

  “Why did you come after us?” Heather said.

  “Just you, baby,” he said. “I was going to kill those two outright. But, I was going to have some fun with you.”

  “That was a bad call,” I said.

  Heather nodded to me. I downed the last of my drink and picked up the Bowie knife. I took my time, hacking the rest of his legs off, then his arms. I started with his fingers.

  “Just kill him,” Misty said. “Fuck. Are you enjoying it or something?”

  “It’s not for me,” I said. “It has to be this way. And, I don’t really know why.”

  I chopped Aaron’s bloodless forearm loose. The dying vampire hissed faintly.

  “Try to keep him in large pieces, babe,” Heather said. “I don’t want to have to drag around a bunch of loose intestines and shit.”

  “Sure. One last thing. I need a smaller knife.” I held out my hand to Heather.

  Heather tossed me a Benchmade AFO knife. I forced Aaron’s jaw open and cut into his gums. Misty turned and buried her face in Heather’s chest. Aaron was pretty wasted by this point and I wasn’t sure if he could feel any of it. His torso did twitch and his head rolled on it’s broken neck, so I kept going. I tr
ied not to think about it as I knelt by the Aaron’s head. Heather spun Misty around, gently tilted her head, then whispered something to her. I stuck the blade into Aaron’s undead flesh and pried another fang loose. His eyes flew open. “Fuck.” I grabbed the Bowie knife and managed to remove his head with one stroke.

  “We should burn this whole place down,” I said. “I think we’re the only ones here anyway.”

  “This hotel isn’t his,” Misty said.

  “Yeah, we’ll just find a dumpster and burn him there,” Heather said. “But, I wanna check out some thing’s first.”

  Chapter 2

  Heather insisted on exploring and looting before we left the Hamilton. I spent the time pushing over the modern art pieces that littered the lobby. Misty sat at a desk and played with the hotel’s complimentary computer, a ‘99 Mac.

  “It still works,” she said.

  “Yeah?” I flung a painting across the room. “I used to have one of those.”

  “That was fucked up.” She stared at screen. “Not what you did, but the way you did it.”

  “You burned people alive, Misty,” I said. “How was cutting out his teeth worse than that?”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Misty swiveled around on the desk chair. “And those people were evil anyway. Heather told me about what you guys saw in the tunnels. Anyway, you’re a vampire hunter. You were tapped into something when you killed Aaron. I could sense it. It was like you were some kind of machine.”

  “So,” I said. “I’m just drunk and pissed off. I’ll be fine if I can get some sleep.”

  “What happens when you pick up some weird signal and decide to kill us?” Misty said.

  “What happens when you decide to kill me, because of vampire reasons?” I said. “Look, we’re just going to have to trust each other.”

  “I guess we will,” she said.

  “Ha, I found that fucker’s car keys.” Heather jumped over the desk and hovered for a second before she landed.

  “You have to show me how to do that,” Misty said.

  “Sure, I can try anyway,” Heather said.