by Ian Hall
Portraits, mostly. Pencil-sketched in fine detail, right down to the shadows around the nose and eyes. I flipped through page after page. Some of the faces I’d seen passing me in the hallways; they were the kids who stood out the most - the prettiest girls and best-looking guys. Not more than a half-dozen pictures later I came across a larger-than-life drawing of Chris himself.
“Aren’t you talented, Mr. Eagle,” I said to myself, placing the sketchpad on the passenger’s seat.
Next I came to a college-ruled spiral pad with zillions of abstract designs penciled on the cover. None of them meant anything to me. I found the inside just as elusive, filled margin-to-margin with a scribbly handwriting in a foreign language. I could only discern the occasional name.
As I got to the back of the journal, the words “Chris McDonald” stuck out like a sore thumb. A few quick flips and I found Eagle had a recurring theme: Chris McDonald, Chris McDonald…the name popped up in the middle of loosely-scrolled passages time and time again.
“You’ve got plans for my boy, don’t you, Eagle?”
Other English names popped up every now and again. But, nothing struck my eye quite as hard as one of the more recent entries: Chris McDonald…something unintelligible…Mandy Cross.
“Holy crap.”
I peeled away from the school grounds, hoping to get plenty of distance before Eagle found he’d been robbed. When I got a few blocks away, I grabbed my cell.
“Lyman?”
“Hey - what’s up? Any luck?”
“Yeah, possibly…”
“Sweet! So, what’d you get?”
“If I’m looking at this right - possibly a hit list. One of the new kids that Chris told me about has quite a portfolio; if I’m right, they’re drawings of kids the Blanches want to recruit. Also found what could be a journal of sorts; but it’s written in some funky language I don’t recognize.”
“That’s weird.”
I rolled my eyes at the understatement. “And pretty fricking creepy if you ask me. The guy I stole these from is this hairless loner Chris dubbed ‘Bald Eagle.’ Seems a little over-the-top in his fascination with the student body…”
“I’d say so.”
“When’re you getting here? I’d like to get your take on this stuff.”
He pause before replying, “Um. Can’t say for sure. I’ve kind of got myself tied up with something interesting around here, too.”
That sounded suspicious. “O-kay…and what’s her name?”
“Soon as I find out I’ll let you know…”
“Lyman, you’re a bigger slut than I am!”
He laughed but it got cut short, “Oh, shit!”
“Lyman? What’s wrong?”
No response.
“Lyman? Lyman!”
I heard his phone drop. Then silence.
I’d parked about two hundred yards away from her house, at the edge of the cul-de-sac, and when I look back on it, I never considered for a second that I’d been spotted. I just hadn’t totally switched on, a mistake I’d try not to make again.
Plus, I’d been distracted by Mandy’s phone call; that didn’t help any.
So when the hands flew through my open driver’s window, I wasn’t exactly ready for a fight. The girl’s clutching hands fought with mine for a second, then she grabbed my head and pulled her torso inside, her fangs making directly for my neck. Then she got her surprise.
She stopped short of my neck, shock washing over her face. I threw myself backwards across the passenger seat, dragging her further inside the vehicle. She threw a short punch, hitting me right on the side of the head, but I shook it off. Again, her features registered disbelief. I now had her totally inside the car and straddling me, her short skirt riding high up her legs. I grabbed her wrists and pushed them both behind her back, pulling her down to the seat, so very close to me.
“What are you?” she hissed, her fangs bared and glistening.
“I’m your worst nightmare,” I grinned back, confident in both my strength to hold her, and my grasp of the situation. She squirmed against me, but that only emphasized the futility of her struggle and brushed those wonderful breasts across my chest. I was surprised how quick she’d succumbed to me, but by her quizzical expression, she had her own problems, too.
“You’re not one of us,” she hissed, looking all over my face, sniffing. “But I can tell you’ve been turned.” She shook her head as if she didn’t believe what was happening. Then she did the one thing I didn’t expect. She kissed me.
A full on, tongue in, frantic lunge into my libido that left me nothing short of astonished. I found it difficult not to respond. In fact, I have to admit, it was downright impossible not to return at least some of the passion she hit me with. Ultimately, I let her wrists go, and she started tugging at the bottom of my shirt.
I sat up, pushing her body off for a second, then pulling myself between the seats, I dragged her into the back on top of me. It took a few twists and turns, but we made it without serious injury. I felt like two separate people; one passionate and frenzied, and one detached, hovering above the whole mess, reminding me that I was doing the equivalent of snogging a wild tiger.
But her hands, lips, and body were difficult to ignore. A very good-looking girl had literally attacked me. In seconds, my shirt lay discarded onto the floor, and we’d unbuttoned her white school blouse. She held herself up from me, panting, then dived back for more. I did what any red-blooded guy would have done; I gave up the fight, and enjoyed the ride. It took a good quarter of an hour for the passion to cool to a simmer, and she lay on top of me, breathing heavily, her bare breasts pushed onto my chest.
“Seriously,” she began, “what are you?”
Caught off-guard, I managed to come up with, “I’m the newest thing, a rogue in the mix.” I mean, I couldn’t help it, I lay still under a squirming girl, and I could hardly put two cogent words together.
I had the boner of a lifetime, and she knew it, rubbing herself back and forth.
“You smell different.” She smiled, and I joke not, the sun shone brighter, more yellow. “You’re old. Older than anyone I’ve ever met.”
It was the second time I’d been dubbed with the ‘old’ title, and I wasn’t sure what it meant.
“I’ve been around since the beginning of time,” I said, almost shaking my head at the crassness of it all. But she took it in, the wonder in her eyes beaming at me. Man, if I hadn’t already fallen for Mary-Christine, I would have kidnapped this girl back to Gregor.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
Crap, I had to think quickly, and the best I could do was Carter.
“Carter Weaver.”
“And why were you parked outside my front door, Carter Weaver?”
“Because you’re a vampire, and it’s my job to run interference for the boss when he’s out of town.”
She gave me a funny look. “Miguel’s out of town? I saw him this morning.”
I laughed, hoping I wasn’t making a complete ass of myself. “Not Miguel.” I lifted one hand from her ass and pointed to the roof of the car. “The boss.”
Well, a fleeting shadow of fear passed over her face, and I knew I’d hit pay dirt.
“We need to keep the plan on track. I have the job of making sure it stays there.” I leant up, and kissed her again. “I never thought it would be so damn pleasurable though.”
We made out again, but less desperately this time. It didn’t help the boner in my pants, definitely the best looking girl I’d ever had in my car, although I determined not to pass on that tidbit to either Mandy or Mary-Christine.
“So do you treat all your girls this way?” she asked after a while. The sun had almost set, darkness falling outside, and I’m quite sure it was getting cold, too, but I felt toasty under my fleshy covering.
“Not for some time,” I said, adjusting my position slightly. “I work under the radar; no one knows I’m here. I check the progress, I make sure the direction is
right, and the timing is still on track.”
I tried hard to be as vague as possible, but she kept nodding. “I applied to college last week,” she said. I almost shouted ‘Eureka!’
“That’s good,” I said. “And the rest of the seniors?”
“Same as me; Alucard Medical, AMU.”
I kinda pushed her away from me slightly, but she wriggled again, then turned to one side. A wicked smile crossed her face as she trailed a finger over the bulge in my jeans.
“Would you like me to do something about that?” she asked, licking her lips in the most sensual display I’d ever seen.
“That would be wonderful,” I tried to remain impassive, but I knew it wasn’t working. “If you don’t mind.”
The time to go meet Chris after work came around quick and Lyman had not shown. I’d called and/or texted him more than a dozen times with no response. If I’d known wherever the hell he was, I would’ve flown to his rescue. So I crossed my fingers and hoped he wasn’t getting screwed sideways.
At eight o’clock on the dot, I left for Cloverleaf Hardware. Chris had the store locked up and came out to meet me in my car.
“Right on time,” he greeted with a smile. “I think I spotted you in the halls today. Tried to catch up, but you were too far ahead…”
I made a mental note to be a little more careful next time.
“Where do you wanna go?”
“Someplace private,” I said.
Chris looked up and down the empty street. “This looks pretty private to me.”
“It’ll do,” I conceded, and flicked on the overhead light. “I wanted to show you something.”
I reached into the backseat and retrieved the sketchpad I’d pilfered from Eagle’s locker, setting it between me and Chris. Immediately his brows lifted in curiosity. I flipped the cover, gauging his reaction. First: appreciation. Then, as I continued through the portfolio, Chris’s mouth rearranged into a thin line at the sight of a pretty girl with Zooey Deschanel eyes.
“Do you know these kids?”
“A lot of them - yeah. That’s Katrina Suza.”
“Are you friends with Katrina?”
His expression told me I’d scored a hit. After a moment of reflection, though, he did answer.
“Yeah. We dated here n’ there; nothing major.” Chris squirmed in his chair like it’d gotten hot all the sudden. “I don’t get it…how could you have her picture? She was long gone before you ever got to the school.”
“I didn’t draw these, Chris.”
He turned away from me, looking out his window. For a second, I thought he might bolt right then and there. I kept him in place with my next question.
“Katrina doesn’t go to Harris anymore? Did she move?”
Chris turned with the speed and fury of a striking snake. “No - she didn’t move, Lizzy! Katrina…vanished…about two months ago. No note, no trace - just gone.”
He snatched the sketchpad out of my hands, staring down at the drawing like some confusing puzzle.
“How do you have her picture? If you didn’t draw these, who did?”
“Your friend - the one you call Bald Eagle. I got them from him.”
“Holy shit! You’re the one who broke into his locker, cleaned him out? What - now you’re a goddamn thief, too?”
“I had reason to do it!” I barked back. “You wanted answers, didn’t you?”
“Exactly! But, you’re the one asking all the questions!”
Okay. He got me there. But, I wasn’t about to give in.
“If you’ll just chill out and work with me, Chris, we might both get the answers we’re looking for.”
Angrily, Chris proceeded to flip through a few more pages. He stopped again at another familiar face.
“Dayton Priestley,” he noted, flicking the picture with thumb and forefinger.
“Not a friend, I’m guessing?”
“Use to be - until he turned into a total douche.”
I tried to rein in my interest. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Dayton was a cool guy; we hung out all the time. Next thing I know, it’s like he’s a totally different person. I think he got into the drug scene or some bullshit - always starting fights, fucking everything that moves. He never used to be like that.”
“Do you know when that started?”
“This year. Everything started this year.”
“What do you mean by ‘everything’?”
Chris got this faraway look in his eyes; the way people do when they’re trying to remember a dream they haven’t had in a while.
“We all used to be friends, Lizzy,” he said, sadly. “Me, Dayton, Katrina, Tory, a bunch of others. We were all cool, people getting excited about graduating this year, making plans. This started off as the best year of my life - senior year…just like it’s supposed to be. Then, just little by little, we started to break apart. The ones you never expect to see slide downhill…but, one by one, everybody changed; went their own way.” Chris snorted a mocking laugh. “That shit’s not supposed to happen until next year when high school’s over.”
“Did all this begin when the new kids started showing up?”
“Would you give it rest? Hell - if it wasn’t for the ‘new kids’ I wouldn’t have had any friends at all anymore.” Chris looked at me like a toddler that’d gotten a toy taken away. “And since I listened to you, I’m not hanging out with them these days, either.”
“What I told you before was right - the Mize brothers weren’t your friends.”
By the way Chris twisted to face me dead-on, I could tell I’d just opened up a can of worms. Shit…
“Now that brings me to my first question, Lizzy. What happened to them? Why’d Tank and Dozer suddenly disappear as soon as you got into town?”
“All you gotta know about the Mize brothers is that they’re a couple of thugs. If you’d have stuck with them, you’d been led down a really bad road, Chris.”
“You sound like my grandmother,” he scoffed.
“Well. You should listen to her.”
Chris waved the sketchpad at me, presenting ‘Exhibit A.’ “I guess now you’re gonna tell me Bald Eagle’s no good either. Why? Because of some drawings?”
I took the pad away and flipped until I got to the portrait of Chris. “Do you remember posing for this?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t even know the guy could draw.”
“So…your good buddy, ‘Eagle’, sketched yours - and probably all these pictures from memory…in perfect detail. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“Give me a fucking break - I wish I could do that!”
Getting nowhere, I went for the journal. I’d taken time to highlight each name in yellow and went directly for the first “Chris McDonald” I could find.
“And you’re in here about a zillion more times.” I continued flipping, coming to other names that I could now pin to a picture. “Katrina Suza…Dayton Priestly…”
“What’s all the rest of this garbly-gook?” he asked, tracing the penned lines with his finger.
“I don’t know; can’t read it. But, I’m sure as hell going to find someone who can.”
Chris threw himself back against the door. You’d have thought I’d just shot him.
“Oh, shit…Lizzy, are you a cop?” Then he leaned in and looked me over. “You one of those really young-looking undercover agents?”
The idea seemed to make him happy, so I went for it.
“You can’t tell anybody, Chris. And I could really use your help here…”
He sat up straight at attention, ready to follow orders. “Hey, yeah - whatever you need.”
I gave him back the sketchpad and a pencil I had tucked under the visor.
“Names,” I said, “of any of the kids you recognize…what year they’re in…any other info you have: where they work, phone numbers, addresses.”
He plucked the pencil from my fingers and got to work. “You got it.”
Just like
that, Chris returned to the happy-go-lucky, ever-smiling guy I’d first met in the school cafeteria. My heart sank to think I’d just passed up any opportunity to get into his pants - after all, now he’d found I was older. But, I figured it for a good trade.
“So…what’s the deal?” he pressed. “Drugs? Gangs? Some kind of prostitution ring?”
I could hear Chris’s heartbeat picking up as he wrote. He’d suddenly woken up and found himself in a James Bond movie. I wasn’t ready to tell him it had turned out more like Bram Stoker.
“Sorry, kid,” I told him, drawing from years of faithful CSI viewing, “I’m gonna have to keep you on a need-to-know basis for now.”
A flash of disappointment came over his face but he recovered almost instantaneously, “Understood. Seriously - this is bad ass!”
I felt glad to leave Chris on such an upbeat note. Even the lie didn’t bother me; not only would he listen to me now and stay safe, I had a foot in the door to go see him whenever I wanted to. And I had a feeling that would be often.
After dropping him off at home, I had one destination in mind: Lyman’s safe room. It meant for a long hour of driving, but I considered nothing more crucial than protecting the sketch book and journal.
When I arrived, the house was in darkness; Lyman still off God-knows-where. But, I stole inside, down to the basement and the safe room, stashing my treasures for safekeeping.
Getting Serious All of a Sudden
“Elena Díaz,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away. The sun had set, and I had never seen a better well-proportioned ass in my life.
And I had worked this afternoon for the good of the country.
Wow.
I watched her all the way, until the front door closed.
New River had certainly opened my eyes. I set off for the suburbs of Phoenix, looking for a hotel for the night.
The next morning, I stood back at the main entrance to the small New River High School, leaning against the wall, watching the students. They arrived separately, but soon bunched together. I saw Elena’s friend, and three boys with him. They didn’t talk outside the group. No one noticed me as I observed their mannerisms and catalogued their faces. Simply a new face leaning against a wall. I used my phone to snap pictures of the groups.