by Jeff Seats
Both the female and the male vampires were unmistakably watching each other. One action of Helena towards Jenna elicited a responding effort from Kurt with Kelvin. They were enjoying watching each other toy with their victims as they engaged in a weird sexually infused fantasy. The vampires worked their mouths up their prey’s chests tenderly kissing until they reached their arched necks. Then, in unison, they placed their mouths on exposed throats...
Paul started to stand. “I have to warn them...”
The vampires both bit down simultaneously. Jenna and Kelvin gasped in ecstasy as the vampires began draining them of their blood.
“Shit!” Paul said, unable to say or do anything; a profound feeling of panic suddenly washed over him. We are so fucked!
The vampires watched, eyes fixed on the other, as they fed; drinking the warm, sweet elixir that had been kept from them. At first, they slowly extracted the life out of Jenna and Kelvin; savoring every mouthful.
Years of deprivation, of subsisting on packaged blood from blood banks or inferior, animal blood, vanished as they performed an ancient and base function necessary for any living creature's survival. They were feeding; taking in nourishment. But the two were not just supping on hapless humans; they were engaging in the most intimate of rituals that vampires could share and the visual stimulation of watching the other was more than mere voyeurism; it was an act of complete gratification.
As they consumed their victim's blood, their actions became more frenzied and violent. Bloodlust overtook them. They bit, gnawed, and tore at their victim’s throats. The feeding had become a savage slaughter turning Jenna and Kelvin into bloody masses of torn flesh. The vampires wallowed in the remains of what once were two vibrant humans; gorging themselves like they had not done so in a century.
Paul pushed down the hysteria he could feel welling up from deep inside of him, but he couldn't afford the luxury of letting himself be consumed by panic. Snapping out of his shock, or just trying like hell to ignore it, he grabbed Ellie and pulled her away.
“Come on. We have to find the O’Neil’s.”
“Where are they?”
“God, I don't know, but we gotta get off this street so we can think a bit.” He turned and saw an alley between two buildings almost behind them. “Let’s duck in here and regroup.”
Paul and Ellie ran deep into the alley hugging the dark shadows cast by the walls. They stopped behind a dumpster which hid them from the entrance.
Ellie leaned against the brick of the wall and slid down to the ground. She shook her head and said slowly in a shaky voice, “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, WHAT-THE-FUCK? I never saw this much blood in The Stan. Not even after an IED explosion. And believe me, I saw a lot of blood.”
“Maybe they won’t hurt the O’Neil’s because of their little girl. Maybe we just hold up somewhere until morning. The bus driver may have found help and is bringing them here…”
“Ellie. Look at me.” Paul said grabbing her by the shoulders. “The driver is dead. Remember his hat with blood? I think Vlad got him. No help will be coming.”
Ellie stared blankly across the alley to the opposite wall. It didn't even register in her brain that there were no old posters or graffiti visible on any surface or that this had to be the cleanest alley in America: no tires or piles of trash, no pallets or even smells of rotten food or urine.
“Okay.” Paul said, “I’m not a big fan of these types of stories so what do you know about vampires?” He had no idea what they were going to be able to do, but he had to distract Ellie from the grim thought that they were not going to live out the night.
Fighting down the terror that was building inside of her Ellie tried to focus on the question. “Um, they can’t see their reflections. They don’t like garlic, holy water, or sunlight.” She fingered the crucifix around her neck. “And crosses piss them off.”
“K. Crosses are easy; we can make those with our fingers, but I doubt that there is a garlic patch around here, and the church certainly has to be fresh out of holy water.” He was at a loss. “And, daybreak is just too damned long from now.”
“You can kill them with silver bullets.”
Paul gestured with his empty hands “Great, and I forgot to bring my gun...” Then he remembered and reached behind his back and withdrew the 9mm. “Well, you don’t think the bus driver loaded this with silver ammo do you?” He smiled weakly. “But this may slow them down. Right? Maybe?”
“Let’s hope so.” She paused trying to dredge more weapon ideas up from the movies she had seen. “Oh! You can kill them with wooden stakes jammed through their hearts.”
Paul grinned as he pulled out his Leatherman and opened up the knife blade. “Now, that is something I can work with!” He picked up his walking stick and began carving one end down into a sharp point.
««« ‡ »»»
THE BAR ROOM floor was a mess. It had a good coating of blood from the scattered body parts which formerly constituted the person that most knew of as Dick. A handful of vampires lay about enjoying the satisfaction of having “dined” on the first warm, human blood that any had had in years. For the moment they were content in the afterglow of the feast.
Vladimir stood with Steph in the center of the bloody repast. She was still feeding off of his blood, and he had to forcefully remove her mouth from his wrist, impressed with her suction. Once her fangs grew in completely, she would be a strong member of his new family. He looked down at the other vampires wallowing in the remains of the bleeder. They felt the force of Vladimir's glare and stood, saturated in blood. Steph danced in and around them licking the blood off their cheeks and lips as they all came to their feet.
“Come my family. There are two others who escaped, and they are yours!”
The vampires raced out the door but stopped, bunching up outside the entrance, the red of the neon emphasizing the blood that covered them. Without their leader, they were not sure in which direction to go to find the bleeders.
Vladimir exited the bar with Steph on his heels like a puppy. He lifted his nose to the air and sniffed in one direction and then the other. Then Vladimir took in a much deeper breath and his eyes widened. He turned his gaze down the street in the direction of the park and let out an eerie, screeching howl like a great horned owl calling its mate and then he pointed.
“There.” He said gesturing to the south. “They are over there. Come!”
—— ABDUCTION ——
THE O’NEILS FOLLOWED the local couple, Amanda and Charles, out the door of the Bucket of Blood. Marion was paying too much attention to Cindra and her whining about being hungry to have noticed, but Wilson saw that the monster of an Asian guy, Samoan according to Paul, was standing at the door as if on guard. When Charles got close, the Samoan unlocked the door, which was weird. Why was the door locked and why hadn’t he noticed when the door got locked in the first place?
And what was it that, Paul, was doing? Was he trying to stop them from leaving? Why would he do that? But then Amanda came up from behind and ushered them all out the door and onto the sidewalk. Then the door was closed behind them and aside from the jingle of that stupid doorbell the other sound Wilson heard was the solid clack of the deadbolt as it was thrown back into the frame, locking the door yet again. Why? Things were not adding up. But then again he was hungry and tired. The morning would bring a whole new perspective on the situation.
Amanda and Charles led the way to their house but seemed to be in no particular hurry. They strolled down Fourth Avenue until they reached the park. The further they walked the more comfortable the Marion and Wilson became with the pair.
A husband and wife obviously in love with one another, Marion recognized with a bit of envy, watching the woman slip her hand into her husband's and then lean against his side cuddling in, drawing warmth from the evening chill. Charles responded by wrapping his arm around his wife and kissing her gently on the top of her head.
They crossed B Street and paused a
t the edge of the park. Charles pointed diagonally across the dried grass to the middle of the residential block. “We're just over there. See it? The mid-century modern sandwiched between the Cape Cod and the Victorian.” Then the couple continued walking, cutting through the park, with the O’Neil family in tow.
Wilson looked around at the dying and wilting plants. “Must be having a heck of a drought.”
Amanda looked back at the O’Neils. “Drought? No, why do you ask?”
“Well, this grass for one thing and the brown foliage and other dried out plants all around your town. They're all in different stages of dying.”
In a manner that showed that she couldn't be bothered with such considerations, Amanda responded, “There's plenty of water. God! Too much water.”
Marion and Wilson gave each other a silent questioning look.
They finished crossing the park and came to a stop in front of a perfect 1960s mid-century modern ranch house. “Do you know what you would pay for one of these in Portland or San Francisco? This place is awesome.” Wilson said.
Some muffled laughter came from behind them in the park. The O’Neils turned and saw Jenna and Kelvin with a couple of the locals on, what appeared to be a romantic stroll. Marion frowned. “Didn't take them long did it?”
“Now honey. It takes all kinds. They seem like good kids.”
“I guess.” Marion kept Cindra from looking back and seeing Jenna with a woman and Kelvin with a man apparently connecting in unmasked intimacy; it was just too early for her daughter to learn about the sordid ways of the world.
Charles heard the laughter coming from the park behind them, turned and saw Helena and Kurt with their conquests. “Sweetheart, I think we should get these nice people inside before it gets too cold,” Charles said to Amanda.
His wife turned back to him and responded, “I doesn't seem chilly to me.” Then Amanda saw the two vampires with Jenna and Kelvin. It would spoil their own dinner plans if the O’Neils were to watch their friends being reduced to shriveled, empty bags of bones. “Oh! Why yes it is. Come on in and warm up.” She said as she hurriedly opened the front door.
“I’m hungry!” Insisted Cindra.
“We all are.” Said Charles ushering them inside.
Amanda led the way into the house and turned on the lights. She was a bit surprised when the room became illuminated and uttered to herself, “They work!”
Marion hearing her say something asked, “What?”
“Oh, nothing. Sorry.”
Charles gently finished pushing the humans all the way into the house behind his wife and closed the door.
This classic American home was as perfect an example of 1960s mid-century design on the interior as it was on the outside with an open, post and beam style of construction, clerestory windows and a ceiling line that continued out past the windows in the back to the overhang covering the patio.
Marion started to wander around the house on a self-guided tour and came to a darkened hall. “The bedrooms down this way?” She asked.
“The bedrooms?” Amanda asked. “Well, I suppose so.”
Marion caught Wilson's eye at that response as she continued to roam around the living room which blended into the dining area that led to the kitchen door. She marveled at the furniture and decor which anyone who appreciated this period of design would be drooling over, and it was all in such good condition. Aside from the dust, and there was a lot of it, the upholstery had no visible signs of wear. The drapes looked like the pleats had just been pressed and hadn't been drawn open in years. Pulling them aside to peer out to the patio Marion noticed that the back of the fabric was faded and showed signs of rot from sun exposure. “I bet you have some wonderful parties here in the summer. When that back door opens up the inside and outside become one big room.”
“Oh, so it does,” Charles said as if noticing for the first time. “I’m afraid that we seldom have parties around here.”
Marion's eyes continued to drift around the living room. The dust she noticed on the sofa was even more noticeable on the table tops and books shelves. Where walls and ceiling met, there were some fairly impressive cobwebs. The conspicuous lack of personal belongings also drew her attention. Where were the family photos, the knickknacks from vacations, the odd pieces of clothing like a sweater over the back of a chair or a coffee cup left out on a side table? This house was not a lived-in home. Marion recalled the police station from earlier; the way that it had furnishings but nothing that indicated life.
The five of them stood uncomfortably around the coffee table in the middle of the room in an awkward silence. Amanda cleared her throat and clapped her hands together. “Well, let me get some food together. You must be starving. I know we are.” She gave her husband a wink as she walked towards the kitchen.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Marion asked.
Amanda stopped and turned. “Oh, no you just sit there while my husband and I prep some appetizers, just a small bite or two before the main course. You just relax.” As Amanda turned back towards the kitchen, she touched Cindra’s hair and ran her fingers through it. Cindra quickly moved over to her mother and pushed against her thigh looking for protection.
Wilson had seen the unkempt condition of the house as well and tried to brush off the sofa cushions but only succeeded in raising a plume of dust. Seeing that there was no winning he stopped and turned a cushion upside down and indicated for his wife to sit then he pointed to the armchair close to the kitchen door for Cindra to use. She hesitated but Wilson pulled her away from Marion. “Come on. What is wrong with you tonight? This is a big girl's chair, and you get it all to yourself.” He touched the back and gave it a turn. “Look it swivels like a merry-go-round.” Cindra slowly moved to the chair and reluctantly did as she was asked, sitting in a very stiff and upright manner.
Marion picked up a magazine off of the coffee table and blew off the dust. LIFE, 1963. A slightly creepy picture of Alfred Hitchcock and some crows were on the cover which must have been pushing his film The Birds. She showed it to Wilson as she asked in a loud enough voice meant to be heard in the kitchen, “How long did you say you lived here?”
Amanda peeked her head out of the kitchen, “Oh, we didn’t say.”
Now Marion became uncomfortable with this whole situation and whispered to Wilson. He nodded in agreement, and they both stood to leave. “We don’t want to be a bother. We’ll just be heading back.” Marion called out.
Wilson held out his hand to his daughter. “Come along Cindra. We'll leave these nice people alone and stop bothering them.”
Amanda and Charles exited the kitchen and stood on either side of Cindra. Charles placed his hand on top of her shoulder and Amanda put her fingers in Cindra's hair and began to comb them through it. Cindra did not respond.
Wilson took a protective step towards Cindra. “Come on honey. We have to be going now.” Cindra showed no sign of acknowledgment. Amanda kept stroking her hair. It was like she was controlling the child through her hand.
Marion made a quick move to reach her daughter, but she found that she couldn’t move. Wilson discovered that he could not move either. Both were frozen, held in place by an unseen force.
Marion was shocked when she heard Charles’ voice but didn’t see his lips moving. His voice was coming from inside her head and was seductive and reassuring. “Don’t fight this. It will be so much more pleasant for you and Cindra if you just let go.”
Marion was determined to resist, but she couldn't move or speak. Charles seemed to be manipulating her. She shifted her eyes to Wilson seeking help, but the look on his face told Marion that Amanda was constraining him as well. The blank expression in Wilson's his eyes told her what she already knew; he had no fight left in him. Wilson was totally lost.
Amanda's seductive presence inside Wilson's mind had completely subdued him. He understood what she wanted and was entirely ready to do anything for her; with her. Then for a moment he felt Marion looking at
him and the vampire's spell was partially broken. They both found that awareness of their surroundings had returned, but Marion and Wilson were still unable to move or speak. The O'Neils could only watch helplessly as the Wainwrights fondly stoked Cindra’s hair. Their daughter's face remained blank and unemotional exhibiting no recognition of her parents standing not eight feet in front of her. The vampires smiled revealing their sharp fangs. Cindra stood up from the chair without prompting. She was now the vampire's automaton only moving as directed. The vampires laughed with triumph as they were about to experience their first kill in over one-hundred years.
Amanda leaned down to Cindra's neck and brushed the girl’s hair aside. She purposefully made eye contact with Marion, flashed a malicious smile as she opened her mouth wide and then, ever so gently, bit into Cindra's neck and began deliberately sucking. It was a strangely tender and almost loving action. The vampire relished the looks of panic and terror written on the faces of Marion and Wilson as she removed blood from their daughter's neck.
The terror that Amanda felt welling up from Marion's very soul sent a charge through her almost as intense and satisfying as that from her first kill. Energized by the sense of defeat which she felt from Marion, Amanda placed her full concentration on Cindra; her daughter now. She would not be without a child ever again. The sense of satisfaction overwhelmed Amanda as she lovingly continued to drink Cindra’s blood.
Wilson and Marion were powerless as they watched Amanda, the vampire, bite into their daughter. Marion wanted to yell out, “Don't touch her you bitch!” But no words formed on her tongue. Her mouth wouldn’t move. She was furious that she couldn’t do anything but watch Cindra under the woman's control. Nothing could compare to witnessing her precious child's neck being bitten by this abomination. The finality of the words she heard from the woman sent a feeling of despair through her paralyzed body. “Your daughter is mine.”