C.O.T.V.H. (Book 2): Judgment (3 page)

The truck fishtailed violently on the ice.  John gripped the wheel tightly, barely managing to regain control before they ended up in the ditch. “Maybe it is time I make it up to your Grandpa,” John joked, lightening the mood.  “His four wheel drive would sure come in handy right now.”

“I would have thought a new truck would have settled that debt,” Jake smiled pulling the seatbelt a little tighter over his coat. “Then again, it is Grandpa we’re talking about.”

John laughed, “Man ain’t that the truth.  He tends to hold a grudge.”

“So how far are we now?” Jake asked leaning forward and taking a turn at wiping the windshield with the handkerchief.

“Not too much further.  Ten maybe fifteen miles away.”

A full thirty minutes later, after much more slipping and sliding and yet another deicing stop, John pulled into the frozen dirt driveway of the Williams Ranch house located on five hundred and fifty two acres of land just twenty-five miles south of San Angelo, Texas.  The main house had a thin stream of smoke pouring from its overly large red-bricked chimney.  Five, much smaller, outlying log cabins flanked it on three sides.

Jake sat shaking in the passenger seat, his breath coming out in misty puffs. “Seriously Dad, this is ridiculous,” he shivered.  “How much money did you make hunting?  Three hundred thousand right?”

“Yeah.  What of it?” John said, putting the truck in park.

“I’m just saying. Why do you keep this old hunk of junk?  We could easily afford something new.  Heck you bought Grandpa a new truck!”

“I love this
hunk of junk!”
  John said, feigning being hurt.  “I wouldn’t part with it for all the money in the world.  Besides, you know all that money went into fixing up Pop’s house and starting the Coalition.  We’ve got safe houses to set up, gear to buy, bribes to pay.  It doesn’t all pay for itself you know.”

Jake had heard this speech a hundred times before.  For the past three years, John, with his friends Billy Williams and Ben Morris had been doing their best to organize as many hunter groups as they could into a solid cohesive organization that shared resources, finances, even profits.  They called it the Hunters Coalition.  John had invested nearly every dime he had into it.

Jake didn’t complain.  He knew that as long as John kept busy with Coalition work he wasn’t out hunting.  However, the planning/organization phase was over.  The Coalition was now operating with thirteen Hunter groups at its core, sixty-seven Hunters strong, with Billy Williams at its head.

Last year an offer had been made by the U.S. Government to help train future hunters; the government’s own team having been grounded for the time being due to political reasons.

A vote had been taken among the seven Coalition council members and it was unanimously passed to begin training anyone fifteen and older that was willing to spend up to three years of their lives working with the U.S. military.

Shortly after the attack on their house, Jake signed up to be in the second group, the first having dissolved after only six months of training.

“I know it’s your dream Dad, and I know that in your eyes this truck is a chariot fit for Zeus himself, but could you at least give it a tune up before we make any more long distant travel plans?”  Jake chided him playfully.

“Okay, okay!”  John laughed.  “Well, anyway we made it in one piece.”  John grinned from ear to ear. “And from the look of the cars in the driveway we’re the last to arrive.  You ready?”

“Yeah I guess so.”  Jake sighed nervously, digging his hands even deeper into his coat pockets.

“Nervous?” John asked, killing the big diesel engine.

Jake was more than nervous, he was downright terrified.  He had heard nothing but tales of heroism about the men he was about to meet.  Billy, Ben, Talon, even Bloody Wes Turner were legends.  He had heard countless tales of their heroism.

Like the time his Grandpa Cort along with Billy, cleaned out a den of eleven grunts, seven of them after their guns had run dry of ammunition.  Or how Talon Parker once tracked a Maker across three states after his father, Bear Claw Parker, had been killed in an ambush.  He’d killed the vampire with his father’s own lance and if the legends were true, still wore his charred fangs in a leather pouch around his neck.

It was all more than a little intimidating to Jake, as these people would be the standard by which he was judged for years to come.

“Nervous?  Who me?  Nah,” he lied. John gave him a look letting him know he saw right through him.  “Alright, maybe just a little.

“Everything will be fine, Jake.  You’re a tough kid.  Besides, you get to make lots of new friends.  Just think of it as Vampire Hunter Camp.”

Jake snorted, “Yeah but most camps don’t start in the middle of winter, or for that matter the day after Thanksgiving!”

“I know it sucks, but it’s all part of toughening you kids up.  You think on days like today vampires are just sitting around a warm toasty fire, eating turkey and dressing, and watching football?’’

Oh, you're funny,
Jake thought to himself. 
But you’re not the one that’s got to train in this nightmarish winter wonderland. 
“I bet vampires don’t even get cold!  And yes I bet they are watching the game, they’re probably all Cowboy fans.”

John gave him a quizzical look.  “Why would they all be Dallas fans?”

“Because look at who their owner is!  You’re going to tell me
that
guy isn’t one of the undead?”

John threw his head back in laughter.  “Jake, come on son.  Tell me what’s really bothering you.”

“It’s just . . . what if I’m not good enough?  What if all the other guys are better than me?  I don’t want to let you and Grandpa down.  I don’t want to let Mom down.”  Jake chewed on his bottom lip.

“Jacob, look at me,” John said, his voice softening.  Jake lifted his head and hesitantly looked him in the eye.  “You could never let her down.”  He gently placed one of his cold calloused hands on Jake’s shoulder.  “She loved you more than anything in this world and the same goes for me.  I’ll always be proud of you.  No matter what you choose to do.”

“Thanks Dad,” he smiled weakly.  “Really, it’s just . . . do you think I’ve got what it takes?  I mean, do you think I could
really
be a hunter one day?”

“I think you can do damn near anything you put your mind to,” he answered truthfully.  “Now let’s get inside before we both freeze to death on Billy’s driveway.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Jake said, reaching down for the freezing cold door handle.  Both men climbed out of the truck and into the heavy blizzard.

Jake stretched and grunted.  His legs were numb from so many hours on the road.  "So when is Grandpa coming down?" Jake asked as they walked, their heavy footsteps crunching in the snow.

"He should be here late tonight or maybe tomorrow.  He's been giving Holloway and his crew a hand with a den down by Del Rio.  They still haven’t agreed to join the Coalition.  Hopefully Pop can talk some sense into them.”

They reached the front door and John reached out his hand to knock.

"Dad?" Jake asked, suddenly stopping him.

"Yeah son?" he said, pulling his hand away from the door.

"Are you sure you want to do this?  Getting back into hunting, I mean.  There are other things we can do to help the cause."  Jake’s biggest fear was that the obsession John had felt after his wife’s death would take root again.  His quest for revenge had nearly destroyed him not only physically but spiritually as well.

John sighed, emitting a deep cloud of fog from between his chapped lips.  "I just can't sit on the sidelines any more.  They need my help.  I gave up hunting before to protect you and your mom.  Look what good that did."

"I know Dad.  I just don't want you dying out there, or becoming fixated like before.  I understand better than anyone how you feel.  I want to kill every one of those monsters as much as you do.  I just don't want to lose you.  You’re all I’ve got left."

"I'm in the prime of my life, Jake.  Training you has put me in better shape than I’ve been in years and spending time with you again, after the things I saw, the things I did . . . it rejuvenated my very soul.  I don’t exactly feel whole again. I don’t think I ever will, but I feel more . . . human.  But it's time I do my part.  Not trying to sound cocky,” he smiled out of the corner of his mouth, “but I’m good at what I do, and what I do best is kill vampires.

“Besides, it’s high time we got our own place again.  The money we can make hunting can definitely make that happen."

Jake laughed loudly.  "
What?
" he said, sarcastically.  "And leave Grandpa's hospitality?"

John laughed with him.  "If I have to see him in nothing but his boxers, a pair of army boots, with a .357 magnum tucked into the waistband threatening to pull the whole getup down one more time . . ." John closed his eyes shaking his head, trying to erase the mental image.

"Seriously!”  Jake agreed.  “Ever since the attack I’m scared to death to come out of my room at night.  And it’s got
nothing
to do with the vampires!  I can't even get up to use the bathroom without him jumping up waving a gun in my face.  It’s a miracle one of us hasn’t been shot!"

John grabbed his stomach laughing then wiped the already half-frozen tears from his eyes.  He turned and knocked three times on the red oak door.  A large African American man, standing just over six feet tall and weighing well over three hundred pounds opened the door.  He wore a heavy green sweater with blue jeans and had a head full of salt and pepper hair.  "Sorry we're late Billy," John said, still laughing.

"I thought I heard voices out here!” Billy said, with a warm hearty laugh of his own.  “Something about Cort in his underwear?”

“It’s a long story.”  John grasped Billy’s hand then embraced him in a tight hug with sharp pats on the back.

“Hell I was partnered with the man for more than thirty years!”  Billy shuddered.  “I’ve seen him in his jockeys with a pistol tucked into the band enough times to turn my skin whiter than yours, John!” he laughed.  “Well, come in, come in, and get out of the cold!" he stepped out of the way.

Jake stepped inside, basking in the warmth of the house.

"This must be Jake," Billy said, shutting the door behind them and placing both of his massive hands on Jake’s shoulders.

"This is him," John said, with a wink in Jake’s direction.

"Spitting image of his old man." Billy said, in a deep throaty voice.  He ruffled Jake’s hair with one of his massive hands.  "Let's just hope your head is a little thicker."

Billy had kind gray eyes, surrounded by tiny wrinkles and big bushy gray eyebrows.  He had a warm, friendly demeanor.  Jake smiled and reached up to shake Billy's hand.

Billy gripped his hand and pulled him into a giant bear hug.  Jake was amazed by his strength as he slapped Jake on the back.  “Damn good to see you, Jake!  It’s been a long, long time!  Hell you were barely out of diapers last time I tossed you over my shoulder.”

“Uh thanks,” Jake said into the big man’s shoulder. 

“Here, let me take your coats,” Billy said releasing his grip.  “John, son, why don’t you take Jake around the room and introduce him to his family.”

John shrugged out of his heavy coat then helped Jake do the same.  He handed them to Billy.  "Jake.  These are some of my oldest friends," John said, leading him out of the entryway and into a large cozy living room full of dark blue leather couches and chairs with people sitting on them watching the Cowboys/Vikings game on a big-screen TV.  Most of them stood as John and Jake entered the room.  “John!”  A thin man about half the size of John, with wire frame glasses rose from one of the couches and embraced him like a brother.

Jake couldn’t help but smile.  After Julia’s disappearance, when John had been at his darkest point, he had cut ties with all but one of his friends.  They hadn’t approved of the methods he and Turner were using to obtain their intelligence.

It had taken some time, but fences had been mended and everyone had once again embraced John with open arms.  Ben Morris had been the first to do so.

"Jake, this is Ben Morris," John said, introducing him. “And his son, Chris." He motioned to a teenage boy standing directly to Ben’s left.

"Good to see you again, Jake," Ben said, shaking his hand with both of his own.   "You couldn’t have been more than three last time I saw you.  Nice of your old man to finally bring you around."

"How's it going?" Chris said, with a thin smile and a nod.  Chris was almost the spitting image of Ben.  Like his dad, his brown eyes were hidden behind a pair of glasses.

“Nice to meet you both.”  Jake smiled.

"Ben and I were like brothers growing up,” John said squeezing his old friend’s shoulder.  “Sure he's short enough to be an extra in
The Wizard of Oz
, but there's no one better when it comes to gathering information for a hunt."

"Now John Bishop, you leave my husband alone," the beautiful Hispanic woman to Ben’s right, with long black hair streaming down past her shoulders, said with a touch of a Spanish accent. "We can't all live at the top of magic beanstalks."

"This lovely lady is Catherine Morris," John said, leaning down and giving her a peck on the cheek.

"I’m sure Jake remembers his favorite Aunt," she smiled, pushing a strand of hair behind her left ear.  "I changed your diapers more than a few times.”

“I’m sorry . . . no,” Jake stammered uncomfortably.

“No?  Well then, we’ll have to remedy that.  Call me Cat.”  She hugged him tight.  “You know, I was good friends with your mother.  She was a wonderful lady.  I can't tell you how sad I was to hear about her passing."

"Thank you," Jake said, quietly.  John seemed to ignore her last comment, not out of rudeness but out of a complete inability to talk about it.  Jake still had doubts that he’d dealt with her death.

"The big scary man over there by the fireplace is Talon Parker.  Best tracker in the business.  He can teach you things about tracking that you've never even dreamed of." John said motioning his hand to a tall Native American man, with long black hair braided down his back.