Dead Men (and Women) Walking (11 page)

The other two were closing
in from the sides, one only feet away from his unaware
wife.

“
This property has been
blessed,” he said.

“
The ramblings of an old
preacher are of no concern to us,” the eldest vampire hissed. Her
younger sisters giggled shrilly.

His wife looked up, startled
by the vampire to her left. She dug into the bucket of feed lifting
out a handful of seeds, which she tossed at the blonde creature.
The vampire seethed and dropped to her knees, picking up the
scattered seeds. Isabelle turned back toward her husband who was
busy tossing a ring of garlic, which had hung on their front door,
around the neck of the third vampire. The demon struggled with it
and toppled over, vomiting bloody chunks all over the sleeping
tulips. The middle vampire smiled and advanced on the
couple.

“
I am not so easy,” she
said with narrowing eyes.

“
Your look says otherwise,”
Isabelle fired back.

“
You,” the vampire said,
pointing at the frumpy woman, “You will feel much pain.”

“
You cannot enter our
property without being invited,” the man protested.

“
Correction,” the
bloodsucker said, “I cannot enter your house. Your property, well
now, that’s something else.”

She progressed toward them,
brandishing sharp fangs and claws.

The man backed away from the
curtained window as he heard the bloody ferment of the doomed
doublet. He felt the side of his neck perplexingly. He was a
vampire?

“
What is it?” Sabine said
from behind him. He turned sharply, not knowing what to say. “Where
are my parents?” she pleaded.

He said nothing, only looked
to the window. The girl followed his eyes and ventured to the thin
pane of glass. Her brother crept up next to her, rubbing his eyes.
He yawned and tugged at her nightgown. She could see her mother
lying on the ground.

“
Come sisters. Eat while
the blood is warm,” an unseen presence said.

A blonde woman knelt next to
her mother and tore into her belly, drawing out a handful of gore.
She held it, like a bunch of grapes, and feasted.

“
Children,” the same voice
echoed from the other side of the wooden door, “May I come
in?”

“
No!” Zacharie
exclaimed.

“
Very well,” said the
voice, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“
Please sir,” Sabine asked
of the stranger, “Help us.”

The man started to speak,
but, just as he found the words, a pain began at the base of his
spine. He staggered to the center of the kitchen, the pain drawing
him to his knees. The children watched as his spine began to bubble
and shift.

“
Is he a werewolf?” the
wide-eyed boy exclaimed. His terror-stricken sister did not
reply.

The man bellowed as the
bulge in his lower back moved upward toward his head. It stopped at
his neck and moved in the direction of the two puncture wounds. The
wounds began to separate and tear, revealing a small, grey head.
The head pushed out as the man slumped over, dead. A slimy,
peppery-eyed baby forced its way out onto the kitchen floor. Two
small, veined wings unfolded themselves and flapped vigorously. The
baby opened its mouth, which began to squeak and hiss, revealing
two rows of razor sharp teeth. It cooed and, in seconds, it was
upon the children.

The vampire brushed open the
door and walked into the bloody mess, followed by her sisters. She
lifted the snapping baby into the air and gasped.

“
Sisters,” she declared.
“She is a...boy! The prophecy has come full circle.”

The three vamps gathered
around the small demon child in amazement. For centuries, all
vampires had been women. A curse had descended upon the vampire
race hundreds of years prior. There had been a foretelling of one,
born a male, who would break the gypsy hex and become the most
powerful of the Nosferatu. The eldest vampire wiped away the blood
from the infant’s mouth and held him tenderly in the
moonlight.

“
He will be called
Dracula,” she deemed, “And everyone will fear his name.”

By Patricia A.
Collins

Like a panther on the prowl,
the big black Cadillac glided silently down the quiet suburban
streets. Its headlights, like two huge, glowing eyes, cut through
the inky darkness, illuminating row upon row of newly- built,
middle-class houses, which were surrounded by rolling, manicured
lawns.

It was summer in suburbia,
and James liked nothing more than to cruise through the
neighborhoods with his windows rolled down, breathing in the scent
of newly mown grass while listening to the laughing, excited voices
of children at play.

It was getting late, and
although most of the little ones had been called in for the night,
a couple of lucky children had gotten permission to play for a few
more precious moments in their front or back yards, under the
watchful eyes of their protective parents.

James thought it was a shame
how people had become so suspicious of each other in the past few
years. These days, parents seemed to think that around every corner
lurked a pedophile ready to pounce on their sweet, little darlings
and whisk them away never to be seen again.

He longed for the more
innocent times of his childhood: when kids were allowed to stay out
long after dark, running and playing with friends; parents didn’t
have to worry about constantly keeping a close eye on their
children; and a child wasn’t taught to be automatically wary of any
stranger who approached him or her. But James knew those carefree
days were long gone, replaced by the mistrust that seemed to
prevail in this day and age.

The big car took a right
turn, heading back toward the driver’s apartment building. James
figured he’d have a late dinner, watch a little TV, then get to bed
early, since tomorrow morning he had to get up and go to the
unemployment office. He still couldn’t believe that he’d been fired
from his last job. He hadn’t particularly liked being an elementary
school janitor, but at least it had paid the bills. If only that
little brat hadn’t gone tattling on him, he’d still be working
there.

It had all been a big
misunderstanding, he thought. He didn’t even touch the girl, only
made a comment or two, and then off she went crying to her teacher.
James knew he’d never actually touch one of the kids where he
worked. He was smarter than that, had more self-control, and knew
better than to shit where he ate.

James was so lost in thought
that he almost drove right by the park without noticing the lone
child who was happily playing on the swing set. At the last minute,
however, he spotted motion in the near darkness, saw the girl, and
immediately applied the brakes.

The man couldn’t believe his
luck. Here was a child, alone after dark, in a park far from any
residential housing. This is too good to be true! James thought to
himself as his palms began to sweat in anticipation.

He took a deep breath to
calm himself, reached over to the glove box, opened it, and removed
the contents. Then, after checking in the rearview mirror to make
sure that he didn’t appear too disheveled, James climbed out of the
Cadillac and slowly walked toward the child.

As James drew nearer, and
his eyes started adjusting to the moonlit surroundings, the details
of the girl’s appearance slowly became clearer. She was very pale,
with long blond hair that fell to her waist. Her clothing consisted
of a bright yellow t-shirt, emblazoned with a cute little bunny;
torn jeans; and a pair of scuffed-up tennis shoes. Judging by her
size, James was sure that she could be no more than six years
old.

The girl looked up when she
heard the man approaching. James held his breath, hoping she didn’t
jump up and run screaming at the sight of a stranger coming toward
her in the dark. Surprisingly when she saw him, a huge grin spread
across her small face.

“
Hello,” she said
innocently.

James, sensing a perfect
opportunity, replied quickly, “Well, hi there young lady. My name
is George, what’s yours?”

“
Jennifer, but I like to be
called Jenny.”

“
Well, Jenny it is then,”
the man agreed, trying his best to seem friendly and harmless. “I
was wondering if you could help me, Jenny. I was walking my puppy a
few blocks over and somehow he slipped out of his collar and got
away.”

James showed the child the
leash and collar that he had just taken out of the glove
compartment and asked, “Did you happen to see him here in the
park?”

Jenny scrunched up her small
face in for a moment as if in deep concentration, then replied,
“No, I haven’t seen any puppies and I’ve been here a long
time.”

Trying to seem crestfallen
in order to evoke the child’s sympathy, James sighed heavily. “I’m
never going to be able to find him on my own,” he lamented, “the
park’s just too big!”

He’d used the missing puppy
excuse many times before. It was a very effective way to lure
unsuspecting little girls into his vehicle without any screaming or
struggling. They were all more than happy to climb into his car and
go off in search of the non-existent dog. Holding his breath, the
man waited to see if the child took the bait.

“
Don’t be sad, George,” The
girl said. “I can help you look for him!” Jenny jumped out of the
swing and, after quickly crossing over to where the stranger stood,
trustingly placed her small hand in his.

James almost swooned with
excitement as her cool, soft skin made contact with his clammy
palm. This is almost too easy, he thought, grasping the child’s
hand tightly, as he led her over to his waiting car.

As her abductor quickly
drove away from the park, the child drummed her tiny feet against
the car seat, apparently oblivious to the dangers of her situation.
Speeding down the highway, Jenny stared intently out the window
trying to catch sight of the arrant puppy.

James couldn’t believe that
his plan was going so smoothly. Even though they were far from the
park by now, the girl still appeared to have no idea that anything
was amiss. He hoped that the child would remain oblivious to her
peril until he’d gotten her far away from prying eyes. But even if
she finally did become afraid and begin to scream and fight, James
was prepared. Before he left his apartment every morning, he always
made sure that he had plenty of duct tape in the glove box, and a
good length of rope and shovel in the trunk. “Always be prepared”
was James’ motto.

“
Can the puppy be way out
here?” the child asked, turning her large, inquisitive eyes to the
adult sitting beside her.

“
Well Jenny, he’s a very
quick little dog, and he could be almost anywhere by now. That’s
why we need to drive so fast, to catch up to him,” her kidnapper
replied. The answer seemed to placate the girl, who, turning back
to the window, resumed her vigil.

The man could barely keep
his attention on the road as the car purred down the highway. His
eyes kept straying back to the little girls long blond hair, and
the way its silky waves lay against her fragile little neck: a neck
that was so thin and delicate that he could easily squeeze the life
out of the child by using just one hand.

James swore to himself that
this time would be different. With the other girls, he’d been
inexperienced, scared of being caught, and too excited to control
his impulses; but with Jenny, he would take his time, because
rushing with her would be a travesty, like gulping a fine wine or
bolting down a gourmet meal. No, he thought, beautiful little Jenny
is definitely a bouquet to be savored, and savor her I
will.

They were approaching James’
favorite place to bring “his girls”. It was a very woody, secluded
spot about a mile off of the main road. Three of his victims were
buried in this area; they were probably little more than hair and
bones by now. James hadn’t used this spot in a while; he knew
better than to keep coming back to the same place time after
time.

Usually he would roam around
the tri-state area, snatching up a victim whenever the opportunity
presented itself, careful not to take more than one child a year
from any given locale. He had several burial sites around the
region, and would use the one that was closest to the spot where
he’d kidnapped the girl. He did this to keep the authorities from
discovering that all of the disappearances were related.