Mind Over Monsters

by Jennifer Harlow

  I make it out of the crypts but not by much. I feel him right beside me. There isn’t even time for me to look. Before he can touch me, I toss him to the right, and I take off running. I don’t dare look back. “Help! Hel—” Cold hands grab my waist and lift me off the ground. My turn to soar. I hit about ten feet away, landing feet first, rolling to a stop on my back. The gun escapes my hand, and I have no idea where it goes.

  Oliver is on top of me the moment I stop, pinning my wrists to the grass. Fangs enter the flesh of my neck. Often found sexy and romantic in movies, I can attest that being bitten by a vampire is not so great in reality. It feels like two huge, dull needles plunging in, invading my body. I scream so loud I hurt my own ears. The fangs come out as fast as they came in, and his hot mouth suckles the wounds like a newborn, catching as much of the warm flowing blood as he can. He moans in ecstasy as his tongue laps against the raw openings. Oh God. The bulge in his jeans grows against my thigh. As I squirm under him, I swear it doubles in size.

  He’s getting off on my pain. Rage fills me, hot like summer in the valleys of Arizona. I turn my head and bite the piece of him closest, his ear. His mouth leaves my neck to cry out in torment. More important, he releases my wrists. Lift! Oliver floats off my body like that girl in The Exorcist. He snarls with bloody teeth barred, long white fingers grasping for me. He rises six feet off the ground. I manage to sit up, my breath escaping in spurts. He attempts once last grab, almost reaching my hair. He weighs nothing. Perfect for flying. I watch as he soars ten, twenty feet away, slamming into a tree with the force of a train. The tree snaps in two, splinters flying everywhere. Oliver falls motionless to the ground. The top of the tree crackles like lightning then falls over, crashing into the metal fence and onto some crypts, which crumble like gingerbread houses. Wow.

  I spit out Oliver’s blood and wipe my chin. I so need Scope right now. Or vodka. It takes me two tries but I manage to stand up. My neck throbs something awful. Normally vamps enter your mind and make the experience pleasurable, then lick the wound to close it. They have a thin coating of an enzyme on their tongue that reacts to blood and clots it. Of course there is no way Oliver’s getting near my neck again, so I’ll just bleed. I put pressure on the holes, but blood pours between my fingers. I better not get a scar. At least he missed an artery. Count my blessings there. Gosh, the world spins a lot.

  Even with my brain on a Tilt-a-Whirl, I make it to my attacker. Oliver doesn’t move at all. I can see why. The back of his head is a bloody mess, almost fully caved in. All but one of his limbs is twisted at a grotesque angle. I think I’ve killed him. Oh, no. Kneeling down beside him, I flip him on his back. His white face is almost totally covered in blood. Relief washes over me when he groans a little. He’ll heal and be peachy by tomorrow. I really have to stop almost killing my co-workers, even if they deserve it.

  “Alexander?”

  What? Oh. Well, it’s about time. What did he do, take a detour to Mexico? “Over here,” I shout and stand at the same time. This spinning is making me a little light headed. Will, who is plastered with blood and gore almost as much as I am, stops a few feet short of us, assessing the situation. First, his eyes dart to the crypts and tree, then the unconscious Oliver, finally to me. His nostrils flare and I’m hit with his overwhelming fury.

  “He did that to you?” he asks in a low voice through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, but—”

  Before I finish Will bridges the gap between us. He kneels beside the vampire, studying him. “You didn’t kill him.”

  “Of course not! He didn’t mean to—” Obviously not wanting to hear me out, Will picks up a fallen branch and raises it over Oliver’s body. Oh, crud. “Stop!”

  “He attacked a human. That’s an automatic death sentence.” He raises the makeshift stake above his head. It flies out of his hand and as far as I can send it. “What the hell are you doing?” he snarls at me. Another wave of fury hits me.

  I jump between Will and Oliver. “Get away from him, Will. He can’t hurt anyone now. He’s knocked out.”

  “You get away from him. It’s the law and I have to carry it out.”

  I step over Oliver’s body so a leg is on either side of him. “If you would just listen to me for—”

  He picks up the nearest piece of wood. I have no choice. I elevate the angry werewolf up off the ground and send him away. He lands in a grassy area, knocking down a zombie. Almost as soon as he’s down he’s up and running back toward us, nostrils flaring. I have just enough time to kneel where Will was standing beside Oliver. Just as the peeved werewolf reaches us, I raise my hand like I learned in training to focus my power. Will freezes mid-stride. He tries to move his legs, but I won’t let them budge a centimeter. I have control of all his limbs. If I wanted him to do a jig, I could make him. It takes a lot of concentration to control four things at once but focus is key.

  “Alexander, let me go.”

  “No. I’m sorry. Not until you calm down.”

  “Alexander!” Another fury wave damn near makes me lose concentration but I maintain.

  “You obviously have a lot of unresolved anger toward Oliver, but now is not the time to vent it. He didn’t mean to attack me. Wayland made him do it. Now, he is unconscious and we can keep him that way, but if you come near him hell bent on killing him, you will have to go through me. Do you understand? Can I let you go now or do you want a date with a tree trunk too?”

  We stare at each other, neither set of eyes giving an inch. His face is so tight with anger I can see every bone. I really, really don’t want to hurt him but if I have to … Him or Oliver, he knows which one I’ll choose in this scenario. He looks away first, nodding in agreement. I hesitate for a second then let him go. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I’m sor—”

  “Don’t.”

  I want to say something, but there isn’t time. Can’t I even have three seconds of peace? Every zombie within sight has heard our squabble and is looking to take advantage. At least a dozen, maybe more, stumble toward us. “We need to get him out of here,” I say. “Help me pick him up.”

  “I am getting fed up with this situation,” Will says but not about my request. His eyes don’t leave our unwanted visitors.

  “Earth to Will!” I shout. “Help me!”

  He snaps out of limbo and picks up Oliver in a fireman’s carry. “Take off my walkie.” Backup, good idea. “Is Andrew safe?”

  “Yeah, he’s in one of the mausoleums.”

  “Is it strong?”

  “Um, I guess so.”

  He starts toward the crypts and away from the zombies, so I follow. “Call Irie and tell her Plan B. And give the name and location of the mausoleum. We’ll rendezvous there.”

  “Plan B?”

  “Just do as I say!”

  Can I get a please? Jeez! I do what he says. The rest of the team seem to know what he’s up to but darned if I do. I just follow him blindly back into the field of stone buildings, the world still spinning like mad. I’m sure I’m walking like a drunk, even having to stop and blink to focus. Will slows down and I take the lead like I actually know where I’m going. We stumble around looking for the name “Perault,” which I am ninety percent sure was the name on the mausoleum. “Um, I think it’s around here.”

  “But you’re not sure?” Will asks, exasperated.

  “No. I didn’t really draw a map when I was running for my life. Andrew! It’s Bea! Make some noise!”

  Even I hear the pounding down the line of crypts. Will reaches it before I do, dumping Oliver’s inert form and kicking down the iron door. Damn, he’s strong. Andrew stands at the back of the mausoleum, machete raised like a baseball bat.

  “It’s okay, it’s me,” I say.

  Andrew lowers Bette. “Where’s Oliver?”

  “Here, but he’s unconscious.”

  Will prods Oliver roughly with his foot, which would hurt if he was awake. “I need to check the structure’s integrity.” He then proceeds to hit the wal
l with a fist. Okay, one of the stranger things I’ve seen today. “Call everyone and inform them we’re located in the tenth row, seventh from the left. And tell them to hurry.”

  I pass the information onto the team. Very little chatting, just an “affirmative” from everyone. Will, finished pounding the inner walls, moves outside to pound out there. I’m sure there is a point to this, but what it is I have no idea. I’m just glad he’s pounding the walls and not Oliver’s face.

  I sit between Andrew and Oliver’s head while the pounding continues. A nice rest, that’s exactly what I need. Oliver groans beside me. Except for all the blood covering his face, he looks almost peaceful. I shouldn’t have tossed him so hard. It’s odd, not twenty-four hours ago we were hugging, now we almost killed each other. What a strange life this is. I pick up his damp head and put it in my lap. I just can’t help myself. He’d do the same for me.

  “I smell blood, are you okay?” Andrew asks.

  “Yeah. He missed the artery and vein.”

  “Will he be okay? It takes a lot to knock out a vampire.”

  “The back of his head is already healing. We just have to keep him unconscious until Wayland’s dead.”

  “What about broken bones? Does he have any?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You’ll have to set them or they’ll regenerate as is.”

  Eww. “I’ll let Will handle that when he’s done.” He’ll probably get a kick out of it. “What is he doing?”

  “Seeing how strong this place is.”

  “Why?”

  Will steps back in. Without a word, he grabs Bette from beside Andrew. His eyes briefly stop on Oliver and me but leave us just as quickly. “I’m going to help the others. When everyone but Irie is here, radio me, okay?” He runs out, not bothering to close the door. What’s the hurry?

  “So that’s Plan B? Have everyone but Irie hole up in here until the zombies go away? Great plan.”

  “Everyone but Irie? Oh my. Is it really that bad out there?”

  “What—” I gasp instead of finishing.

  Nancy flashes in, sweating like she just got out of a sauna. The flamethrower is conspicuously missing.“Sorry,” she says wiping her brow. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” Her eyes go down to Oliver. “Ohmigod, what happened to him?! Is he okay? Why is your neck bleeding? Are you okay? Did he do that to you? Did you, like, kill him?”

  “Nancy! He’s fine, I’m fine.”

  “He bit you? And he’s still alive? Will didn’t kill him?”

  “Wayland made him do it, okay?”

  Agent Rushmore, dressed in black fatigues, runs as best he can with a limp into the mausoleum. “They’re going to be here any minute,” he pants. “Fuck, there are so many of them. I barely got through. Is this place strong enough?”

  “For what? What is going on?” I ask.

  “Will apparently thinks so,” Andrew says.

  “Hello? What’s happening?”

  “It’s bar-be-que time,” Nancy says, looking out the door. “Flash fire, like everything out there incinerated. But we should be safe here if Will says so.”

  I don’t share her confidence. If Irie is powerful enough to burn down her whole school, then I doubt a few stone walls will protect us. This is the brilliant plan? Jesus Christ, a two-year-old could come up with something better. We’re all going to die.

  Oliver shifts and moans on top of me, my whole body freezing. All eyes, even Andrew’s, turn as I lift up his head. The skull, though still bloody, is almost back to its original shape. I gently put his head on the floor and stand. Andrew does the same but takes a step away from him. “We need to keep him unconscious,” I say. “He could still attack.”

  Without warning, Agent Rushmore takes out his gun, firing two rounds into Oliver’s head. Everyone has enough time to cover their ears but still the ringing starts. Oliver isn’t moving anymore. Like a tear, a trickle of blood falls from the pulp where his eye was. I think I’m going to be sick. “What the hell?” I’m pretty sure I scream, but can’t hear myself.

  He shot him. He shot him! These people … Agent Rushmore’s lips move but all I can make out are the words “regular bullets.” So they won’t kill him, thank God. Still, there had to be a better way. The guy was just slammed into a tree, he didn’t need two bullets to the head too. Nancy’s lips move, and she points down to Oliver. Agent Rushmore nods and bends beside Oliver’s broken leg. He grabs the parts above and below the fracture. I turn around before he snaps the bone into place.

  I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. The spinning and nausea damn near drop me.

  Something happens to me. The room, the people, everything zooms away miles from me. I feel like I’m floating above myself in the ether. Even the pain disappears. I know there are people and walls but I don’t feel them here, it’s like they’re ghosts or unreal. Far away. It’s wonderful. Freeing. I start walking.

  It’s as cold outside the mausoleum as it is inside, but at least I can breathe out here. Off in the distance I can make out people walking toward us. Strangely, the fact that a zombie army is creeping closer does not scare me. I just feel … nothing. No fear, happiness, or even anger. Nothing. Numb. They could chomp on my liver and I wouldn’t care. Death? Bring it on. I could use the rest. A zombie steps close enough for me to make out its skeletal features but disappears in a cloud of dust. Huh. That’s better. All the black blobs getting closer vanish into the night. More dust flies into my face. It’s actually quite beautiful. Swirls of gray dancing and twirling in the wind. So much better than blobs. No more blobs. Oh, there are more. Oop, they’re gone too. So much better.

  Someone moves beside me, but I don’t look to see who. Another blob goes poof. Poof, poof, poof. Everyone here goes poof. The person next to me puts his hands on my shoulders, moving me back into the mausoleum. I’m pushed to the back wall and helped down on the floor next to Oliver. Nancy stands above me, concern all over her face. Why is she so worried? She’s too young to be so serious. She should be out with friends, not holed up in a mausoleum about to die. She walks over to Andrew and starts talking, occasionally glancing at me with worry. I can’t hear her and don’t care. I am dust. We are all dust. I put Oliver’s head in my lap but don’t look at it. Instead, I just stroke his hair like he did for me last night. When he convinced me to stay.

  I don’t know how much time passes, maybe minutes. The

  others pace around the mausoleum, sometimes saying things I still can’t hear. Nancy drums her fingers on one of the stone slabs, glancing at the open door. Agent Rushmore stands guard at the hole. I just keep stroking my attacker’s hair as first Agent Chandler and then Carl find us. Both are covered with sweat, blood, and bits of gore. Carl actually bends down next to me and waves his hand in front of my face, his lips moving but no sound is coming out. He looks concerned, just like Nancy. Everyone is so serious. I just keep stroking.

  I wonder what Nana’s doing right this moment. Probably in her coral bed watching a horrible Lifetime movie about a stalker, sipping a cup of chamomile tea. April’s sitting in her mother’s old rocking chair singing her son, Carlos, to sleep as he sucks his thumb. I hope he stops doing that soon. I bet my brother, Brian, is still at his office under stacks of legal briefs and law books. I can even imagine little Randy Dodson, fully recovered from almost becoming road kill, playing a video game with his older brother. So strange, I save his life and mine ends months later in a cold mausoleum hundreds of miles away. That kid had better grow up to cure the common cold.

  Will walks in carrying Agent Wolfe over his shoulders. The agent’s shoe is off and the foot is covered in blood. Something took a chunk out of his Achilles tendon. Will sets him down in the far corner, his mouth moving the whole time. Barking orders, no doubt. What a control freak. He sure is cute, though. Carl says something then gestures toward me. Will’s gaze whips toward me. Pissed-off look turns to familiar concern on the trip. His lips move, Carl shrugs. Now they’re a
ll looking at me. I should care but I don’t. Let them stare at the freak, nothing new to me. It’s Will’s turn to wave his hand in my face. But unlike the others, he reaches down and takes my still stroking hand in his own. His lips move to say “Beatrice” as he squeezes my hand. I don’t squeeze back. I pull my hand away and keep stroking Oliver.

  Shaking his head, Will stands, mouth moving. He unclips the walkie and starts talking into it. Nancy sits next to Andrew and takes his hand. The rest sit down against the wall. The nervous energy in this place is making me even more ill. The men have no expression on their faces, but their feet and hands jitter in rapid fire. Something bad is about to happen. Will picks up the iron door, putting it back in place. He holds it in position with his back, his legs, and arms acting as anchors. Like that will hold it. Me, I pull Oliver toward me so his body covers mine and his head rests on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around his chest, squeezing tight. If I had a teddy bear I’d use it, but the bloody vampire will have to do. Even unconscious, he comforts me.

  I feel it when Irie lets loose. My skin doesn’t prickle, but for a split second something is sucked out of me—the air, my soul, I don’t know what. This is bad. As sure as I know two plus two makes four, I know this place will crumble around us. But it’s too late. There’s a whooshing sound like an airplane taking off and just as fast. Almost the moment I hear it, the mausoleum rocks like it was made of Popsicle sticks, and the door Will holds knocks him in toward us. The orange glow outside shoots in. The world slows down almost to a standstill.

  Will floats just inches from the slab, arms and legs straight out. He’ll hit the back wall, and then the door will slam into him, probably knocking him right through it. He’ll be incinerated. So will we. The flames from outside shoot in with us and there is nothing stopping us from frying. I don’t want to die like this, burnt to a crisp. I just don’t want to die. Not here. Not now. I haven’t fallen in love. I haven’t had babies. I haven’t even seen Egypt. I’m not going out like this. That orange heat pushes out whatever fog enveloped my brain.