Vampires Don't Cry: The Collection

by Ian Hall

  “Only slightly. Perhaps that’s what gave her the edge tonight, just a small enough fraction of sedation to keep her out of his control.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I’ve got to report to Weeks. You guys better get some shut-eye.”

  I took the blood pouch to Mandy who grinned at the sight of it. “No box of chocolates?”

  “Nope. And no get-well card or thank-you letter, either.” I felt happy that she had some life in her again.

  “I’m glad you two eventually got it together.” Mandy opened the blood pouch, and sucked deeply.

  “What?” Mary-Christine and I both protested together.

  “Oh, come on. I can smell the fox on the hill. You don’t think I couldn’t smell the bodily fluids on both of you?”

  Instinctively, my fingers went to my neck, where Mandy’s musk still lingered. She gave me a huge ‘I-know-what-you’re-doing’ look as I passed the fingers under my nose. I couldn’t help it; it felt like scratching an itch.

  “What time is it?” I asked, knowing my phone wasn’t in my pocket, I had left it up in the loft.

  “Just after eleven,” Frank arrived. “We’re up at five. We’d all better get some rest.”

  As I lay on my camp bed, I had three things on my mind; the roll in the hay with Mary-Christine, the smell of Mandy’s sex, and the image of Jackson Cole, working in me and Mandy to keep Alan out.

  The combination could sure make for some weird dreams.

  Very quickly the night got still. Lyman and Mary-Christine must’ve worn themselves out, ‘cause they fell asleep the second their heads hit the cots. Reynolds didn’t even stay awake long enough to ream me about running off and leaving him out in the boonies. But for me - sleep just wasn’t in the cards; too much Helsing blood. I had to get out.

  This time I paid more attention and didn’t wander out of visual view of the barn. I didn’t think Alan would be back but I’d underestimated his determination before. So, I stuck close.

  I went around back, propping up against the wooden slats. The chilly air felt pleasant. So too the sound of chirping crickets. It reminded me of summers taking the RV up into the mountains. Usually there’d be the smell of burnt barbeque smoking up the air; Mom’s specialty: charred everything. I could almost taste the grit in my mouth; it never made me smile before. But, just then - remembering - it did.

  The imposing silhouette of the White Mountains loomed off in the distance. They were just shapes against the midnight sky. Behind them, a full moon; so big I could almost make a face out of the craters. Those wispy little clouds that had caught the fire of the sunset now gleamed against the darkness. I watched as the air currents mashed and reshaped them like celestial Play-Doh.

  Before my eyes a stallion appeared, regal and slick. Its billowing body trampled across the sky before exploding into six scurrying dogs, all breaking off in different directions. When they cleared, another cloud-made figure dominated the mountaintop. Wide of shoulder, thick at the middle and extremities, posing in a stance of some warrior king, his long, blowing hair moved freely in the wind.

  I smiled and reached out my hand. Jackson pulled me up to him, up to the mountain with the brilliant moon as our lantern. Somehow I felt no sense of awe or disbelief, standing again with my foster brother. It seemed as natural as the clouds themselves.

  “I never thought I’d see you again,” I told him.

  He gave me a half-smirk. Jackson never was one to give up a smile too easily.

  “I’ve been around, Mandy.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. The mound of stones that marked his grave assured me Jackson had remained exactly where I’d put him.

  “You’ve been in there,” I said, pointing to the markers.

  “Yep. And in here.” He put two fingers over my heart.

  “Definitely that.” I went over to the grave and knelt down beside it. “Are you happy? Was it worth it to you?”

  “A lot of good has come from my sacrifice. Lyman has become very strong in a very short time.”

  I nodded, trying to hide the tears burning my eyes. “He really has. You should be proud of him; I know I am.”

  Jackson finally honored me with a full-fledged grin.

  “Lyman’s not the only one I’m proud of, Mandy.”

  As much as I craved it, I couldn’t accept his praise. “I’ve made so many mistakes, messed so much up. Hurt people.”

  “You gave a newborn baby a chance to live. You killed Amos Blanche. And tonight you saved over a hundred people from being slaughtered by Alan McCartney.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah but…I pretty much just do whatever occurs to me at the time. It’s not like there’s some grand scheme or something.”

  I even got a laugh that time.

  “Sure there is; just because you don’t know what it is - doesn’t mean there isn’t a grand scheme.”

  “Still preachy as ever,” I scolded.

  “Not telling you anything you don’t already know.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  I rubbed my hands over the stones. They were so cold.

  “So, am I going to die in the morning?” I asked the figment of Jackson Cole.

  He gave me a thoughtful, if unsympathetic, expression. “Most likely. But, it’s not important. Your job isn’t to live, Mandy; your job is to protect Lyman Bracks.”

  “I know,” I agreed with an exhale. “I’ve known that since the day you died for him.”

  “Good. And I’m not letting you off the hook yet. You have one more mission ahead of you in the morning; if you survive, then you’ll continue your work until…”

  “Until when? You’ve made him immortal, y’know. It’s not like this is ever going to end.”

  “It’ll end, Mandy,” Jackson reassured me. “Once you’ve played your part in the grand scheme. But not before then.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I should have sacrificed myself, then you’d be the one babysitting a vampire-Helsing hybrid.”

  “Sorry, sis, you drew the short straw on that one.”

  I twisted a sour expression over my face. “So…did you bring me here just to rub that in my face?”

  “I didn’t bring you here at all, Mandy,” he said with an air of mystique. “I guess Somebody had something They wanted to show you.”

  I looked around, finding only myself, my foster brother and the freakishly large moon.

  “Who wants to show me?”

  Jackson looked all-too-pleased with himself. “The One who knows all things.”

  I followed the point of Jackson’s finger past the glowing moon to the black universe beyond.

  “Oh…Him,” I shrunk down in myself, wondering what God would have to say to the likes of me, a vampire, “Okay…so, what does He have to show me?”

  “You’ve already been shown, Mandy; the answer’s in the clouds.”

  Irreverently, I threw my mock appreciation up to Heaven. “Oh, awesome. That’s very helpful - thanks!”

  “Some believe without seeing,” Jackson scolded. “Yet you’ve seen and not believed.”

  “Oh, Lord. Cut the Gandhi shit for five seconds and tell me something I can use.”

  “Use for what purpose?”

  “What do you think? To kill Alan McCartney.”

  His white, puffy brows knitted together thoughtfully. “Alan McCartney is already dead.”

  “Not dead enough!”

  “As dead as me and twice as damned,” Jackson said as if to console me. “It’s not up to you to decide if his fate is equal to his offenses.”

  “Would you stop that? Seriously - you sound like some Japanese karate instructor!”

  Jackson’s expression went from soulful to despairing. “Let the hate go, Mandy. Alan will get his punishment - it’s not in your hands.”

  I picked up a cold stone from Jackson’s grave and crushed it, letting the powder sift through my fingers. “Alan’s punishment will be BY my hand.”

  “Then you may suffer the same fate as him.�
�

  As punishment for my faithlessness, the wind picked up and the clouds that comprised Jackson’s body began to disperse. He floated away like the fluffy stuff from a dandelion.

  “Please come back!” I called.

  But the moon darkened and the clouds all at once fled from the sky, taking Jackson Cole with them. I felt myself pulled away from the mountaintop, landing gracelessly on a hard, canvas bed.

  “I miss you,” all I could manage to say as he vanished back to thin air.

  I woke up to Lyman jostling my cot. “Who were you talking to?”

  Disoriented, I felt a little dizzy as I started to rise up to my elbows. I hadn’t even known I’d fallen asleep.

  “Doesn’t matter. Just tell the Helsings to stop putting that shit in my food; it does things to my head.”

  I looked like one of the last to get woken up. All around me the Helsing army rallied, preparing to charge into the fray. Suddenly I felt like I stood at the mouth of a long tunnel and I had no idea where we were all going to end up on the other side.

  “Jackson told me there was a plan,” I said to Lyman; he responded with a look of utter confusion. “I just hope God lets us in on it before we get our asses handed to us.”

  Of all the things that I thought I’d be doing on a Wednesday morning, this wasn’t one of them. We assembled like an army waiting to be taken to our destination. I counted about forty uniforms altogether.

  All in desert camouflage, thick tan belts round our waists, pistols on one side, and coagulator guns on the other. About twenty men carried assault rifles, a small army indeed.

  We all had gas masks, with a supply of compressed air on our backs. Seems we were taking no chances against the rage gas.

  Hideo passed our group, shaking each hand, wishing us luck, then turned to leave.

  “I thought you were driving our truck?” I asked.

  He winked as he walked away. “Change of plan.”

  “Oh, crap,” Frank said. “I don’t like it when they change the plans.”

  “Oh, you like this one, big time.” Hideo’s grinned wider than I’d ever seen.

  Peterson came by. He showed Frank a map. “Arrive here seven a.m. sharp. Be here,” he pointed to another point, “at seven forty-seven precisely. We advance at seven fifty-five.”

  “Yes, sir,” Frank replied. Then Peterson left.

  We all stood looking at the big rent-a-cop.

  “I have our orders,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  I shrugged at the girls, and they shrugged back. But we still headed for Frank’s SUV without a question. I got in the front, the girls in the back. Once inside, Frank handed a blood pack to Mandy.

  She shook her head. “Not if it’s got that Helsing junk in it.”

  Frank grinned. “You don’t have a choice this time, Mandy. Once Alan’s gone, you’ll be fine, but this is life or death for a lot of people. This juice has kept you free of him for a couple of days now. One more, then you’re free for good.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Frank twisted in his seat, pushing the pack into her hands. “Then we don’t go. We don’t get Alan; someone else gets that honor.”

  She twisted the cap and drank deep, draining most of it in one go. “Happy?”

  Frank started the car. “Always.”

  The drive that morning felt very strange. Passing through Flagstaff morning traffic, dressed as soldiers, armed to the teeth. I’m sure that we got some looks, but I tried to keep my gaze straight ahead.

  We reached the entrance to the valley, and Frank took us up the hill, then off road to the west.

  I gave him a puzzled look. We were meant to meet with Hideo and the Four Moons delivery truck, but we were obviously going off-mission. He parked in a low hollow. The SUV clock said six-fifty-six.

  We all got outside. For me, I tingled. I’d had two choices for the mission; total vampire, or total Helsing. I had chosen the latter, and I couldn’t explain my choice.

  Frank gathered us at the front of the car. “Earpieces in. Radios on.”

  We all did so. No extra sound, no crackling.

  “You guys ready?” he asked. I looked at the girls, and they seemed as apprehensive as I felt. “Masks on. Don’t use the oxygen yet.”

  I checked Mary-Christine’s mask, then she returned the favor; buddy-buddy system. I nodded. “Let’s get this thing over with.”

  “Seven.” Peterson’s voice buzzed in my ear.

  “Let’s go.” Frank led the way. His pace immediately slow. “We look out for tripwires. It’s the most important job we do. We don’t want the rage to burst on us.”

  It seemed to take forever, but Frank did see one wire on the way to our rally point. We stepped carefully over it. Suddenly the day seemed more serious as we did so.

  We arrived at our destination and Frank made us crawl forward to a slight ridge. It seemed the obvious place to watch the farmhouse which had just crept into view, but Frank pointed at the stones. Steel wires lay under them. We retreated and chose a different vantage point.

  The farmhouse lay only two hundred yards away. I could see the big generator, and even the movement of some heads in the farmhouse windows.

  “Forty-seven.”

  The tension felt incredible.

  Frank turned to us. “Oxygen on. Whatever happens, breathe normally.”

  I can’t exactly remember when I first heard the noise, but it grew from a distant humming to a dull roar. Frank made shushing movements with his hands. We all nodded.

  For a second, I didn’t think the sound could get any louder, then a plane flew right over our position. A big yellow biplane, maybe forty feet above the ground. It flew so close, I could see the individual rivets on the faded yellow wings. As soon as it passed, it dipped into the valley, and began to crop-spray the whole north of the valley. A huge torrent of moisture and mist swirled behind it. For a second, the hills to the north were gone in a cloud of white.

  Then a second plane; red, single-winged, ‘Dibble Spraying’ on the side in big black letters.

  Then, unbelievably, a third. Right over our heads. I could have touched it. It was already spraying when it passed us. A mist of tiny white droplets surrounded us.

  “Heads down!” Frank shouted. “Keep the moisture off the lenses.” But I found it difficult to look away from the valley in front of me.

  “What is it?” I shouted into the din. I didn’t think my added volume would compromise us at this stage.

  “Coagulator!” Mandy shouted. Her eyes were wide inside her mask. “In an aerosol form. I can smell it; it’s strong.”

  The planes made a huge high loop at the far side, then dipped for a second run, coming back at us. This time the sound of gunfire came from the valley. The shots were sporadic, but bullets are bullets. I hugged the ground a bit tighter.

  Then, as slowly as the noise had begun, the engines gradually faded. Frank made his ‘shush’ sign.

  Shots still rang out, but they did decrease.

  Soon, the valley lay silent.

  It seemed that nothing in the valley had been missed.

  No birds. No insects. Hopefully no vampires.

  “Fifty-Five.”

  Frank stood up. Man that guy had guts. I expected him to be torn to pieces, but the valley remained silent.

  “We advance,” he hissed. “We watch for tripwires, we carry both side arms. We shoot everything that doesn’t wear camouflage.”

  I stood up, still expecting some resistance, but as I made my way into the valley, the only sound I heard; the crunch of our feet on the ground, my breathing in my mask, and the steadily louder moans of the vampires.

  My personal vendetta against Alan McCartney had turned into all-out chemical freaking warfare. As exhaust trails crisscrossed overhead, the ground became saturated with the Helsing version of WMD.

  Reynolds gave the command we’d been waiting for, “Oxygen on. Whatever happens, breathe normally.”

  A rush of forced air pressur
ized the mask and it suctioned up to my face with a “sllllurp.” It didn’t keep the toxic odor from getting through as acid rain sprayed down on us from above.

  Lyman shouted, “What is it?”

  I kept my head down and listened only for Reynolds’s voice. “Coagulator! In aerosol form. I can smell it - it’s strong.”

  Finally the moment came: “We advance. We watch for tripwires, we carry both side arms. We shoot everything that doesn’t wear camouflage.”

  The ground sloped gently towards the farm, but the stuff the Helsings were lacing my blood packs with didn’t help my coordination any. Out of the brush surrounding the bowl-shaped valley, more camouflaged figures emerged, converging on the compound in the center. The effect looked nothing less than surreal; slow-walking trees with crystalline faces and space-aged-looking weapons. And I was one of them.

  Fifty yards downhill, the valley slithered with vampires, already dropped to their bellies and lungs fighting against the coagulant stiffening their muscles. They were fish in a barrel (as dad would have said), easy pickings for the Helsing militia. Too easy.

  “Way too fucking easy…”

  Lyman turned, eyes locking mine. He nodded, having had the same revelation.

  I broke formation and ran a circuit around the compound, fast as my drugged body would take me; not light speed, but fast enough. I took inventory of the litter of bodies; many faces I recognized from Eagle’s sketch book as kids from Harris High. Several more I couldn’t place, but they were all just as young.

  “Alan’s not down there!” I yelled through my mask, coming back into the group with Lyman and the others.

  “That’s just the first line of defense,” he said, scoping the area. “Alan will be behind the lines, calling the shots.”

  “He couldn’t still be standing after that spray,” Mary-Christine protested.

  “Why not?” Lyman countered, his breath misting up his mask. “We are.”

  “I’ll head down to the barn…”

  Reynolds’s arm shot out like a snake’s strike, barring me. “No! We stick together!”

  “I can go a lot faster on my own!”

  “And die a lot faster, too,” he barked. “You stay with us, kid. That’s not a fucking request.”