Tales from The Swollen Corpse

by Sam Williams

  “I'm not good at cooking for one and Ricky hasn't been around much lately.” His Mom said noticing Victor's facial reaction to the intimidating mound of food before him.

  It had been obvious since he walked through the door something was wrong. She was acting more than worried, almost afraid of something and that wasn't like her.

  “Where is Ricky, Mom?”

  “He's staying with his friend Hector.” She replied without elaboration. Obviously uncomfortable, she turned and started working on the dishes.

  “Does Hector still stay over on 5th?”

  “As far as I know,” she stopped with the dishes, resting her arms on the counter but still didn't turn around.

  “I would love to see my little bro. After I eat I think I am going to go check in on him.”

  “It's late Victor and getting dark. I don't think it's a good idea.”

  Victor thought the last comment was odd but could see his Mom was legitimately worried so he stood up and put his hands on her shoulders to comfort her.

  “Listen, I am not sure what's going on, but I know you're worried about him. I'm here now and we're going to straighten this out, it's going to be ok.”

  Victor let go of her shoulders and walked back to the table to pick up his keys.

  “Be careful Vic.” She said, not turning around. She didn't want him to see the tears streaming down her check.

  “I will.” He tapped the keys on the table and headed back out to the front door, grabbing his bag on the way.

  Just outside, fumbling with the gate was Angie. She was tall and Victor thought too skinny. Her raven hair and horned rimmed glasses hid a beautiful face, making her look studious, which she was. The first one on her side of the family to go to college, she now worked as a loan officer. When Victor saw the silver import behind her he thought, She must be doing well.

  “Hey Angel, you showed.” She backed away as Victor hopped the fence again.

  “Of course I showed.” She said, giving him a big hug. “Where you headed?”

  “Mom said I might find Ricky down at Hector's.”

  Holding him at arm's length “I'll drive.”

  “I don't know Angie. The vibe I am getting, that may not be a good idea.”

  “Listen, I won't take no for an answer. Besides, if that's your ride, it sucks.” she said, pointing at the sedan.

  “Ok Angel.” They jumped into her car and headed off as the low hanging sun turned the smoggy sky a dark purple.

  Hector had lived in a dilapidated detached garage behind his parent's house since high school. He had been Ricky's best friend since elementary. Victor's Mom thought of him as a sweet, but dumb kid and when the two got into trouble she laid the blame on Hector, but never stayed mad long. Angie pulled into the alley and parked the car.

  “I want you to stay in the car and lock the doors.” Angie began to protest and Victor cut her off with just a look. He reached into his bag and pulled out a fifty caliber desert Eagle and holster which he put on under his jacket.

  “How the hell did you get that on the plane?” Angie asked in astonishment.

  “Angie, you know you can ask me anything but...”

  “I know, I know, I can't ask about whatever it is you do. Vic, be careful.”

  With that Victor shut the door. He heard a click of the locks behind him. Heading around the garage Victor noticed the weeds had gotten out of control. Even in front of the side door that Hector used for an entrance. There were no lights on in either the main house or the garage. The only sound was a neighbor's dog barking in the distance. Victor didn't think anyone was home and from the looks of things no one had been there in awhile. A smell seemed to loom in the air, one he knew well. Sometimes his team got bad Intel and they were too late for the party. That's where he knew the smell from, it was the smell of death and rot.

  He knocked on the garage's side door with one hand and kept the other on the gun. Everything was quiet at first, then he thought he heard something. It almost wasn't a sound at all, but a faint hiss and it wasn't coming from in the garage but from all around Victor. It was saying, “Come in”. Victor pulled the gun out and tried the door but it was blocked. It took a couple pulls on the rusted handle before the weeds gave way.

  The garage was completely dark and the smell was strong inside. He could hear the buzz of flies in the air. The layout seemed the same from when he had been there in years past. A little TV on a table in front of a couch, behind it the table they used to play poker at and in the far corner a bed. Victor quickly got out of the light that was now coming in from the doorway. He crept along the wall with the desert eagle guiding the way. The sides of the garage were lined with things that belong there; tools, a lawn mower, etc. As he moved, his eyes adjusted. He could make out someone sitting in a chair by the table behind the couch. If it was Hector, he wasn't moving and the smell suggested he wouldn't be.

  Slowly and cautiously, Victor walked until he was behind the sitting figure. Reaching out, he pulled the chain to the bulb which hung above the table. The light flickered on with a hum and bounced on the cord. The dancing light illuminated the room and the thing sitting in the chair. It was a corpse and from the back it did seem to be Hector. Victor lowered the gun but raised it back fast; as he walked around to face it, the sunken-in clouded white eyes were following him.

  Hector never looked healthy in life and in death he was just plain hard to look at. His skin had once been a light brown but now it was a pale blue. He always kept his head shaved, but now it was growing back in patches and every part of him glistened with the slime of decomposition. Someone hadn't wanted him to go anywhere because they had chained him to the chair with heavy gauge chain and bolted the ends of the chain to the concrete floor. Other than his eyes he didn't move. Victor heard the hiss again, this time it was saying, “blood”.

  In Victor's line of work it was mandatory to be fast at figuring out what needed to be done in any situation. He needed info and it didn't look like Hector was going to able to talk without some help. With gun holstered, he walked over and picked up an old greasy coffee can off the floor. Dumping out the contents of nuts and bolts on the floor, he put the empty can on the table. Lying by it on the table was a pair of pliers next to two very long canine teeth lying in a pool of dried blood. Also on the table was a cigarette lighter, which he picked up. Looking around, he found a hacksaw hanging on the wall. Taking the saw, he lit the lighter and held the flame under the jagged blade. When it was cool enough to handle, he pinched the blade between his thumb and forefinger and used it to tear a small gash on the back of his forearm. Victor let the blood drip into the can until there was enough to pour. He picked up the can and putting his hand on Hectors sticky cold forehead, he pulled back, opening up his mouth. He could see the gaps where teeth had been as the blood poured into Hector's mouth.

  When the last drop trickled, Victor dropped the can and let go of Hector's head. Taking a step back, he put pressure on his arm while he watched Hector for any change. Suddenly Hector’s head rose by itself, his eyes were a little less milky and focused on Victor.

  “Vic---tooor mooooore Victooor.” It was the hiss again but this time it had hints of Hectors voice and it was no longer disembodied.

  “No Hector, I need to find Ricky. Do you know where he is?”

  There was a long silence. Hector's gaze never dropped and with each second he seemed to be getting stronger.

  “He's with Michael.” Hector's voice was almost normal now but was strained from the incredible hunger.

  “Who's Michael, Hector?”

  “Please Victor, give me more, I am so hungry.”

  “I need to find Ricky, who is Michael, Hector?” Victor said with frustration as he pulled the gun out and pointed it at his reanimated friend.

  “Victor, bullets don't hurt me anymore but your smell does. I smelled you when you came and it makes me so hungry.”

  Victor put his gun away. Lifting up his arm so Hector could see the wound he
pinched it, causing blood to drip on the ground.

  “If you want this, you better tell me what I want to know or I am leaving you here with this puddle to smell.”

  “You can find Michael's place up on the hill, the last driveway before the Point. If Ricky's not dust, he'll be there. If you go there they will kill you Victor.”

  “Who did this to you Hector?” Victor asked, hoping his friend would stay lucid.

  “Two of Michael's soldiers, they said I brought too much attention so they left me to starve as punishment. I was a recruiter, but always too hungry. I fucked things up. Now please, the hunger hurts so bad.”

  “What do you mean recruiter?”

  Hector didn't answer but began to look around the room and ramble. “So hungry, so long. You know I killed them. I killed my little girl, my Mom, my Dad; I killed them and drained them. “

  Victor walked over and picked up a can of gas by the lawn mower. He walked back to Hector. Hector cocked his head to look up at Victor with a smirk and white eyes. In war, Victor had seen some horrible things but the face looking at him now made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

  “Are you going to help me Vic?”

  “Yes, Hector.”

  Angie noticed smoke coming from the garage and the light from inside turn to a bright flicker just as Victor tapped at the car window. She unlocked the door and he opened it and jumped in.

  “Take us somewhere we can get a drink.”

  They drove to the local dive and got a booth in the back. Victor didn't go into details with Angie about Hector. He told her Ricky wasn't there and moved the conversation to catching up with her and her family. They both did their best to keep the talk light and Victor did his best to stay engaged, but while they talked he was working out his next move. They ended the night early. Before dropping him off at his Mom's, Angie asked him to promise to keep her in the loop about Ricky. Victor, knowing it was probably a lie, said he would.

  The next morning he had breakfast with his Mom. He told her no one was home at Hector's and him and Angie had went out to get got caught up. He excused himself, saying that he wanted to go down to the gym. Sitting in the sedan thinking, he decided it was time to go check out the info Hector had given him. He found his Dad's old binoculars in a box of camping stuff in the garage and headed out.

  The Point was a scenic turn off in the foothills above town. In the nineteen-fifties it would be the kind of place lined with Chevy's filled with horny teenagers, but when Victor was in high school it's where you went to drink “a tall can”. The houses up there were big with a lot of space between them; most couldn't be seen from the road. When he was a kid he didn't know why anyone needed so much privacy. Now, from his life experience, he knew there was usually a reason.

  Just past the freeway which marked the edge of town, the road curved up into the golden brush-covered foothills. Driving up the winding road, Victor saw a gated driveway just before the Point. The noon sun hung directly over head as he parked the car. An old three foot tall graffiti-covered stone wall ran the length of the look out. On the other side of the road was the hillside. Many nights, as a teenager, he sat on that wall looking at the city lights below, dreaming of what his future might have in store. With the binoculars in hand, Victor ran across the street. Walking down the slope, he found a fire road that had been almost overtaken by the brush. Making his way under the hot sun, he found a gravel covered plateau with a view of the other side of the hill. Crouching in the sagebrush, he used the binoculars to scan the driveway below. Trees running the border of the property blocked some of his view but he could make out a very large house at the end of the drive. The house looked like a turn of the century farm house. There were a few up here and in the city; leftovers from when the rich farmers used to own the valley below. A long time ago the valley was covered in orange groves as far as the eye could see; now only a few trees remained. Victor started to feel like he was back at work, when he saw walking the grounds were armed sentries. He counted about four total, all with automatic rifles.

  He stayed up on the hill the entire afternoon, watching. When dusk arrived, he was surprised to see a police car drive up the dusty road. An officer got out and pulled a pale young man from the back seat, who he handed off to one of the guards. The guard quickly took the young man inside and the cop got back in the patrol car and went on his way. When the sun finally set, an even stranger scene unfolded. The guards all went in the house by way of the front door. About twenty minutes later, a layer of mist settled around the ground. Then straight out of the earth, as if digging themselves out of their own graves, came the vampires. About twenty, maybe more, they came from all over the grounds. At first they walked slowly, then they shot down the driveway almost too fast to see. Just when the property seemed still and empty, a large pale man walked out the front and stood on the porch. His details were fuzzy through the binoculars but he seemed to be sniffing the air. Victor put the binoculars down and looked at the grass; the wind was in his favor. But he couldn't believe he had been so careless, he knew better. Looking back through the binoculars, he watched as the man again turned and went back in the house.

  Victor waited until sun up before heading back to his car. On the way back to his Mom's he made a phone call. Calling in a favor to an old friend, he got a meeting with someone that might be of help. Victor got his GPS out of his bag and put in the coordinates. Looking at the clock, he estimated the time of arrival, he would just make it. Five hours later, he found himself not far outside of Vegas, kicking up a cloud of dust out in the middle of a dry lake bed, hoping the rental had a spare tire if he needed it. When the GPS said he was there he could see an outcropping of rock. Parked in the little bit of shade it cast was a white van with Smity's Heating and Air written across the side. Victor parked the car and got out, walking around the van he stood by the passenger side door so the van driver could get a clear view of him. The van door opened and a short fat man jumped out. He was wearing blue coveralls with the same Smity's logo on the back. He had black greasy hair and a handlebar mustache.

  “Consol says location's secure for five miles up and down. Let's get down to business. What's the target?” The little man said in a straight to business tone.

  “Vampires”

  “Interesting. We talking one, two, or a hive?”

  “About twenty or more.”

  “That's a hive, I got ya covered.” Walking around he opened the back of the van and began selecting and pulling cases which he laid out in the dirt.

  “Ever hunt vampires, son?”

  “Nope, not vampires.”

  “Know anything about 'em?”

  “Not that much. Any pointers?”

  Taking a break from digging around in the van, he turned and sat looking at Victor with one eyebrow raised.

  “Just one. You going up against this hive?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, first thing you should know is they're fast so you're going to need to be too, but we'll talk about that in a second. The other thing is a lot of what you seen in the movies holds up; sun light turns 'em to dust, take off their head dust. A stake through the heart puts 'em down, but you still need to take the head. Holy water and crosses is BS. And silver, silver is the stuff. If you want to shoot them, you got to use silver.”

  “I thought silver bullets were for werewolves.” Victor said jokingly.

  “Nope, we're still working the bugs out of werewolf munitions.” Victor began to smile, but the little man was dead serious.

  “Remember, the vampire on its own has to be pretty slick. Once they make themselves known, the CDC sends a special unit and picks 'em up. The only hives that exist anymore are actually farms supplying the CDC with fresh vamps because they turn the ones they get to dust too fast with all the shit they do to 'em. That means they got local and state protection. Now I am going to assume you are qualified to do what you want to do or we wouldn't be talking. But let me emphasize this needs to be clean and fast. I
t would be bad for both of us if you end up engaging the local law informant with what I am supplying you. I think we understand how detrimental unneeded attention can be.”

  “What's the government doing with the vampires?”

  “Oh lots of things, including making a nice little item you're going to need. Now let's get you set up. I've got an air conditioner with a blown compressor to fix, I told the client I'd be there in an hour.”

  Victor popped his trunk and the little man started bringing over an arsenal.

  “You got nothing, so I've thrown in some of the basics... body armor, night vision, etc. There's nothing special about the rifle or the pistols it's the ammo, all silver. The flash grenades actually put out UV light. Won't kill 'em but will burn and stun.” After he had loaded the trunk with enough stuff for three men to carry, he turned to Victor and pulled a little blue vile from his pocket. “This is what you can thank the Vamps for. It's actually out of the budget you were approved for, but I like you and frankly you ain't got a chance without it. Its self injecting- just pop the cap, stick the needle in your arm or whatever, and POW. You got their strength, speed, senses, even to a lesser extent their healing ability, all without the blood lust. The only catch is that it only lasts five hours and you'll have a hell of a hangover, so don't use it 'til you need it.”

  With that, the little man handed Victor the vile and closed up his van. Victor shut the trunk and walked over to the driver's door giving him a quick goodbye gesture with his hand.

  “Good luck, kid.” The little man hollered, without looking and jumped into the van, closing the door and disappearing behind the tinted window.

  On the way back to town, Victor called his Mom and apologized for worrying her. He told her he was in Vegas with friends and would be spending the weekend. He told her he loved her and would be seeing her on Monday. Pulling off the freeway just outside of town, he found a dingy motel. The room smelled musty and he wasn't sure if the carpet was green or black. He needed a place to rest and plan. The room had everything he needed, a bed and deadbolt on the door.