by Brock Law
again. Hoarse but inhaling fully, Will straightened up to monitor the barracks for movement. He didn’t expect the quiet, which kindled his suspicion. The crackle of colliding branches was all that accompanied the summer breeze. Feeling his body begin to tighten up he sprawled out, extending his extremities to their fullest limit. He retracted and tucked himself into the corner to wait.
He didn’t know what to wait for, but opportune timing had worked in his favor so far. Doubtless, in a minute or two either some chance or necessity would signal his escape. Will kept his eyes on the door. A meager glow trickled in, and gave him just enough vision to adjust to the blind conditions. In the opposite corner, three replica muskets leaned against the wall.
Will’s gasps subsided. His body cooled, restoring strength for the next ignition. He continued to curl away from the doorway. The narrow view to the exterior provided only a glimpse of the park. The hill that rambled away to the next tree line remained untread as far as he could see. The lack of squabbling at the loss of Will’s trail suggested that the vampires had spread out to search for him. Somewhere out there they must be roaming closer. Eventually, they would have to check the obvious location in which he had chosen to hunker down. He indulged in prolonged rest as he considered his next move.
A faint mumbling outside caught his attention. A set of footsteps followed, which were immediately joined by another. The swift addition of more heavy tracks rustled through the grass, and then scraped over the pebbles of the central path between the huts. Will soared from the bunk, stealthily landing on his toes. With an eye to the path outside, he wrapped both hands tightly around the barrel of a musket.
The sudden movement made him dizzy. The room shifted and swirled. Will blinked and shook it off. Wispy, sweeping strides dragged through the cropped grass outside. A few nasal snorts expelled the flavorful summer air, and retracted the scent to search for abnormalities. Low snarls joined what sounded like wolves investigating the site.
Will stopped breathing. His teeth firmly pinched his bottom lip. His heart felt like it was going to explode again. His arms quivered from having to hold back the resulting surges of blood. A silhouette flashed by the door. He jumped and jerked the musket forward.
Another shade crept up the hut opposite Will’s. It leaned over and peeked inside. Unsatisfied, it crossed the path. Approaching gingerly, the specter clutched the edges of the door frame and focused to pry through the blackness. Will tried to stay camouflaged, motionless in the back corner. It cocked its head as it peered in, and took a short step towards him.
A car horn blared outside. The shadow snapped back and jumped away from the hut. Several other figures rushed by. The horn blew again. They mumbled at each other in a slurred language, as they gathered on the trail. The horn repeated with three quick blasts. Two of them ran off to investigate. Will could see his chance. It must be Washington who called out for him. Musket in hand, he took one last gulp and raced for the door.
He sprang from the barrack, and swung the musket as he charged. It came down hard, as Will hammered with both hands at the nearest body. The club met a Nazi in the upper back with a crushing thump. Will spun it around after making contact and bashed the next one across the face. As he could see that there were six others a few yards away who now turned to him, Will dropped the weapon and sped off towards the noise.
On the road at the end of the field, Will saw a pair of large headlights hung high above the ground. The vehicle was shining its high beams out into the park, and kept honking. It was the only thing he could hear as he ran for his life. Whoever inevitably chased after sailed over the land with deathly stealth.
Will’s legs felt like putty, ready to flop like rubber bands as he fled. He flew down the hill with talons at his back. His lungs spent oxygen faster than the trees could manufacture it, as he huffed it out and sucked it back in with every heartbeat.
As he neared the lights, the truck jolted forward. It churned up all of its horsepower and pitched towards the sprinter. With as much haste as Will, it drove straight at him. Once within a few dozen yards, it whipped around to aim the bed in his direction.
“Jump in the back!” the familiar voice of Washington yelled from the driver’s seat.
The truck continued to roll away from Will as he parted the cloud of its exhaust. Feeling the presence of another person just a step behind, he kicked up and launched himself. The moment he landed on the bumper and latched his hands around the tailgate, the truck accelerated and nearly kicked him off. He scrambled over the edge, being constantly jostled from Washington’s defensive maneuvering.
Just as his feet finally hit the metal, a pair of hands snatched his shirt. Will locked eyes with a gashed deformity of a creature. Dirt and blood were caked on to the vampire’s face as it reared back to strike with its fangs. Will fired his fist into its chin. Its head spun around, but its hands remained stuck into Will’s clothing. He cracked the Nazi again. A bump in the terrain bounced it off the side and the demon tumbled over the ground. The truck bounded through a roadside ditch and back up to the smooth pavement, where Washington jammed the gas pedal to the floor. Will kicked across the bed and flung himself against the cab wall as he fought for breath. Washington slid the center window open.
“Where’s Ben?” Washington yelled from inside.
“I don’t know. He never came out of the woods,” Will screamed over the engine.
“We can’t leave him here,” Washington shouted. “We’ve got to find him and get back to the tavern as fast as we can.”
“This is hardly time for a drink,” Will shouted.
Washington bellowed, “That’s where the Grail is!”
A Penny Saved
Walking through the city, the smooth tread of cement went unnoticed. Will ambled quickly past the financial towers, clubs and shops without a second glance at the gleeful occupants who enjoyed the warm twilight of August. However, as the skyscrapers shrunk in the distance, and the residences downsized from apartments to condos to lofts to single homes, the sidewalks broke apart for the ancient brick that surfaced from below. Time always shifted when he felt bricks beneath his feet. It was almost as if the material itself was the cause of departure from his linear existence. Worn and porous, whenever he felt that sandy scrape under his foot, he paused. At first he was bemused by the nostalgic sentiments that the founding fathers may once have walked the same blocks. Now, it was the sign that he was nearing the crux of an uncertain fate. Inevitably, it would repeat until he again encountered the living devils that he was obligated to exterminate.
Heels clicked across the cobbles, billowy sun dresses flowed at speed, flips flopped and dizzy vulgarity promulgated in verbosely accentuated conversations. Busy, laughing people skipped around under the summer stars looking for what they might have called adventure. They had no idea.
Will stood awhile at the backside of a street lamp. He couldn’t tell if anyone wandering the avenues was there to share or disrupt his own adventure. Groups of dancing weekend revelers paraded carelessly, unaware of the mortal danger they might brush shoulders with at any moment. Not, of course, that Will could warn anyone. Silently, he watched everyone’s backs. He even guarded the mindful police cruiser stationed at the corner, hoping that they were looking over his shoulder too. He pulled out his phone, leaned against the lamppost, and scrolled through old text messages as he monitored the streets.
He wiped the perspiration from his forehead and burned off the water from the friction of his rubbing hands. The soles of his shoes began to kick again over the aged bricks. He beat the Earth soldierly as he mingled amongst the groups of pedestrians on his way towards a familiar restaurant. Will reached for the iron railing and received the door from an old couple who turned to smile kindly at him.
Though it was later, the interior of City Tavern was packed with respectable-looking local diners as well as fatigued tourists. Meaty smells from the colonial kitchen wafted throughout. If there were any vampires sniffing around in here, surely they
wouldn’t notice the musk of immortals piercing through the delectable ensemble of rosemary and cumin.
Will viewed the lower dining room for any strange creatures. Everything appeared to be in its usual place. In the dim back corner he saw a contingent of comrades lounging casually at a secluded table. Hancock, Adams, Hamilton and Madison conversed over empty plates, living as comfortably as they could under the circumstances. Adams saw Will and waved him over. As was their natural custom, all four men stood and shook hands with him.
“Come to relieve us?” Adams said with an endearing smile.
“Who will manage the graveyard shift with me?” Will asked.
“The Generals are upstairs,” Hamilton indicated.
The four diners resumed their seats. Will spied the room a bit more. No one seemed interested by his presence.
“Franklin?” Will asked with worry.
“No sign of him,” Adams replied. “We should have heard from him by now.”
“Let’s hope he has the good sense to lead them straight to us,” Hamilton condemned.
“Ready for a fight, Alex?” Madison encouraged.
“Itching since I wore the blue,” Hamilton said slyly. “We cannot abandon Franklin to those beasts. Besides, why should we let Will and George have all the