Vampires (10 page)

And for just an instant some deep adult in him was outraged, offended at such defiance. And he saw himself drawing and firing and plunging silver bullets into her throat- But he couldn't move. He was gone. He couldn't handle this.

He just stood and stared and trembled as the woman thirst-thing reacted to the agony of impalement with maniacal frenzy, her eyes bugging, her mouth barking shrieks and howls, her vile matted hair whipping thin cuts into her moldering cheeks. Something oozed thickly from the wound. But even in the uncertain light Felix could tell it wasn't blood. The only blood came from the red flecks that spat forth from the howling, crumpled mouth.

“Hit it, Carl,” ordered Jack into his radio headset.

The cable attached to the arrow went instantly taut. The woman, still howling and warping in pain, fell forward onto the dusty cement as the cable began to drag her writhing toward the exit. She didn't want to go. She fought the shaft of the huge arrow, she scratched sparks on the concrete floor. She howled and spat some more. But she went.

“Adam,” chided Crow gently, “you want to get the door now?”

The young priest unfroze himself from the sight, nodded, and all but tripped over himself in his hurry to obey.

She went to something beyond hideous when the sunlight struck her. Felix had never heard anything like those screams, had never seen anything like that blurred, vibrating frenzy.

And that fire, those bursting flames that erupted from deep inside her skin as if they were being blown outward by some fierce vindicatory pressure. The flames didn't look real. They looked like dozens of tiny acetylene torches rocketing out of her.

The cable was relentless as it dragged her through the double doors of the building, across the sidewalk, and into the street. Felix hadn't realized he was following her until he saw the others closing in to stare.

They were all there. The cops. The local powers. That mayor, Tammy Something, was there. They had left their police barricades and their whispering cliques and everything else and rushed forward to stare.

The screams abruptly ceased, so suddenly it made every-one jump. And then the flame itself began to shrink, as if curling its fuel into a little circle. The thing in the flame was no longer recognizable as anything but a roaring blue-and-white fire. There came a loud hissing sound, as though gas was escaping.

Then sparks. Then a loud pop.

Then the flame was gone. Everything was gone save for a foot-wide circle of ashes.

And still nobody moved. They just stared.

“Supernatural,” said Jack Crow gently from just behind Felix.

Felix turned and looked at him.

Crow was smiling grimly. “Supernatural,” he said again in the same gentle tone. “Super natural. Not of this earth.” He stepped over to the circle of ashes and looked down. “Evil. Satanic.” He looked at Felix, then kicked the ashes with his boot. “Damned, Felix. Big Time Evil.” He kicked at the ashes again. They were extremely fine and they scattered easily in the soft breeze. Crow lit a cigarette and stared some more at Felix before speaking in that same easy tone:

“But we can kill 'em, Felix. We can kill 'em. We just killed this one and we're about to go back in there and kill the rest.” Crow looked past Felix. “Right, people?” he called.

“Right, bwana!” “Yes, sir!” “Hell, yes!” sang out from behind Felix, from Cat, Adam, and Carl Joplin respectively.

Felix turned around to see them all watching him just as: “Go get 'em!” sounded out from an unknown source.

It was the redhead Felix had noticed earlier arguing with the other policemen, the one wearing a different type of uniform. He stood there holding his fist in the air like a cheerleader.

Team Crow stared blankly at him. They were used to being alone. The last thing in the world they expected was local support. The redhead took their stares as hostility-or worse, scorn. His face turned as red as his hair.

Jack saved him. “Who the hell are you?”

The redhead pulled himself up straight. “Deputy Kirk Thompson, sir.”

Crow smiled. The kid-he couldn't have been over twenty-five-had managed to give the impression he had saluted without actually doing it.

“Who called the sheriff's department?” asked Crow.

The deputy seemed confused. “No one had to, sir. This courthouse is our headquarters. Nobody called the sheriff,” he added meaningfully, looking around at the locals who were watching. “And I think he's going to want to know why when he comes back.”

Jack grinned. “Could be. Hang around, deputy. We'll talk later.”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything I can do now?”

Jack frowned. Where was this kid yesterday so he would at least have had a chance to train him? Or get him some chain mail anyway. No. He might need him after all, shorthanded as they were. But stupid, criminal, to risk him now.

He shook his head. “Not right now,” he told the deputy. “Though I'd appreciate it if you'd stick close to Carl there.” And he gestured toward Joplin, who still stood beside his winch.

“Yeah, come over here, deputy,” said Joplin with a knowing look to Crow. “We'll talk a bit.”

Crow started back to his team but stopped. The spectators, the policemen, and the mayor's people were still standing there watching. Some still hadn't taken their eyes off the pile of ashes at Jack's feet. Some looked a little stunned. The mayor's party looked scared.

Scared we'll lose or scared we'll win? he wondered to himself.

But he had no time for them.

“Something I can do for you?” he asked harshly.

No one replied or even met his eyes. Instead they faded back to the sidewalk across the street under the courthouse. The policemen went back to their barricades, looking uncertain and uneasy.

Crow felt the urge to go talk to those cops, to find out what the mayor had told them, to get them on his side, to.

But his team was waiting. This was no time to take a time out and have them lose their edge. He picked up another arrow for the crossbow and joined Cat, Adam, and Felix, who stood by the curb in front of the target.

“Okay, people,” he said, kneeling down to arm his weapon. “huddle up.”

And so he set about firing them up to go in again. He made his voice strong and confident and, as always, sounding that way to others made it seem that way to himself. He made a change in the Plan. They were originally supposed to wait inside while Adam fetched out another cable and loaded crossbow, but Felix had led them all outside, staring at the dying monster. Crow made a joke about Felix changing the schedule, but while the others smiled, Felix didn't even seem to get it.

Felix didn't seem to be getting much of anything, come to think of it. And while Crow sounded strong and confident for the others and himself, a gnawing fear tried to grow in him that Felix wasn't going to cut it. He was just going to stand there in a petrified daze and if something went wrong and they needed his ~n... Or worse, somebody would have to save him and while they were worrying about Felix they wouldn't be worrying about themselves and...

No, dammit! No! Felix will come out of it. Felix will come through. He will. He will. After a couple of kills, after he sees the fiends aren't invincible, he'll be all right. He will. He will!

He must.

And with that Jack Crow stopped worrying about it and concentrated instead on psyching everyone else up. He did a good job. By the time they re-entered the building and got set up between their lanterns and had the detector going Beep-Beep-Beep again, they were ready. And by the time the second goon appeared, a spindly middle-aged man with his throat still jaggedly gashed from his murder, Crow just knew they could pull this off.

Arid at first it was just the little things that started to go wrong.

First the cable to the crossbow fouled. Jack had just lifted the weapon and prepared to fire when he realized he had no slack. He called Joplin on the radio to find the trouble and then stood there with the others, waiting for a reply, as the second fiend lumbered slowly toward them.

It had almost reached the left lantern when Joplin called back that he knew where the trouble was, that the cable had snagged in the doorjamb, that he would have to open the door to fix it. Jack sighed and cursed, then ordered the others back to the doorway.

He had to call Felix's name twice. The man seemed to be mesmerized by the sight of the ragged tissue on the goon's neck.

So they all faded back to the door and stood there, intermittently blinded by periodic bursts of harsh Texas sunlight, as Joplin fiddled with the door.

The repair took five minutes.

It made sense to keep the detector on, standing there blind as they were. But it was unlikely anything would attack them in that glare of sunlight either. And by the time the detector had gone from BEEP-BEEP-BEEP to beep... beep.. . beep, showing the second monster had retreated, Jack couldn't stand that sound anymore. He reached over to the machine in Cat's hands and snapped it off with an angry flourish.

“All set,” announced Joplin, sticking his head inside.

“Good news,” replied Cat wryly. “Now maybe you can fix this.”

And he held up the detector to show where Jack had broken the switch off.

So they had to stand there blind some more while Joplin, wearing a miner's light on his head, replaced the toggle switch with a paper clip and wire.

That took another five minutes.

Jack was not in a good mood by the time they had resumed their stations behind the two lanterns. The delays had lost them their stride. His team looked jumpy-except for Felix, who looked paralyzed-and he wasn't feeling so hot either.

And he couldn't stand that goddamned beeping.

But the detector was doing its job. The beeps got closer and closer just as before, and when they reached the previous interval, the goon reappeared, this time from the right side. Cat's side.

“Okay, people,” ordered Jack, lifting the crossbow, “get set.”

It was about then that the right-side lantern began to flicker.

“Shit!” hissed Jack and he lowered the crossbow and stared with the rest of the team as the light blinked on and off. The only movement was from the goon. It was now only twenty feet away. And coming steadily.

Jack didn't know what to do. He didn't want to fight in the dark. But he didn't want to have to start everything up again. And besides, dammit, this was just a little short one!

“Cat!” he barked angrily. “Fix that light!”

Cat, whose mechanical ineptitude was legendary, just stared back and said, “How?”

“I don't know, dammit! Fiddle with it.”

Cat hesitated. The goon was now only fifteen feet away.

“And hurry!” snarled Jack.

Cat nodded. “Right!” And he rushed forward and bent down over the flickering lantern.

“Well?” demanded Crow a few seconds later. The goon was now only a dozen feet-six shuffling steps-away. And whenever the lamp would flicker, it would seem to disappear completely. It was unnerving.

“Well?” repeated Jack, louder than before.

“I don't believe it,” replied Cat excitedly.

“What?” cried Jack, concerned.

“I think I can fix it!”

“Huh?” replied Jack dully, still staring at the shuffling monster coming closer.

“I really think I can. It's just the bulb, I think.”

The goon was now less than ten feet away. Only it didn't really seem to be moving toward Cat. More toward Jack, who stood in the center of the formation.

But no. Too tight. Too close.

“Cat!, Bring the light over here and fix it.”

“No. Just a sec. I've got it.”

“Cat! Get over here!”

“Would you shut up a minute? I know I can.. . Yeah. Here. I've got it!”

And the lantern went completely dark.

“Cat!”

No answer.

“Cat! What are you doing?” yelled Adam, who had managed to be quiet until now.

But still, no answer.

"Adam! Hit your chest lamp. That'll..

“That'll drive 'em away, bwana!” snapped Cat, sounding. irritated.

“Cat!” yelled Crow, relieved. "Come on..

“Quiet, dammit! I've got it fixed. Here!”

And the light came on and the monster's gnarled hand closed on Cat's throat and the gray teeth came flashing down and Cat yelled, “Jesus!” and tried to pull away but the monster had him and Jack jerked the crossbow into aim and fired from the hip and the great arrow cracked into its chest and it shrieked and vibrated and jolted into the air but it still held Cat, who flopped and jounced about in its grip like a rag doll and Jack called out for Adam and Felix to come and help because he knew Cat would never survive that pounding.

Adam was already on his way, rushing forward with his pike in his hand, calling out, “Cat! Cat!” But he never made it. He was only a few strides away when the monster leapt and howled once more and the long cable warped through the air like a jump rope and cracked Adam full force on his left temple, spinning him upside down through the air and smashing him hard onto the dusty cement.

Jack saw Adam move out of the corner of his eye and knew he was all right, just stunned, but that didn't matter now. Adam couldn't help them.

“Felix!” cried Jack. “Felix!”

But Felix just stood there unmoving, staring at the sight, not even acknowledging Jack's voice.

When Jack reached them, Cat was barely conscious. He doubted the vampire was even aware of its prey as it lurched and cried in the agony of impalement. But it still held Cat, tossing him this way and that in its pain. Jack had no idea how to get Cat loose.

He took a deep breath and threw himself forward, tackling them both to the floor.

It made it worse. The vampire might have forgotten it held Cat, but it sure as hell noticed Jack. It hissed and spat and struck fangs at him like a snake. Only Cat's grip on its jagged throat kept the gray teeth from Jack's face. And when one of the gnarled hands loosed itself from Cat to grab at him, Jack had about half a second of triumph before he felt that awesome vise-grip on his arm. And he punched and kicked at the monster to free himself but he was as helpless as Cat, who, crazily, still held on to the light. '

“Felix!” hollered Jack desperately. “FELIX!” as the three of them bounced and crashed and hissed and punched, with the lantern throwing shadows through the dust.

There was a sharp tug as the winch came on and began to drag them toward the doorway. At first Jack was delighted-the sunlight would kill it-and then he remembered how it would die and how hot those flames would be.

“No!” he cried into his headset. “Carl! Turn it off! You'll burn us alive!”

The cable went immediately slack.

“Felix!” cried Jack desperately. “FELIX!”

The monster began twisting and spitting at them again.

“Cat!” yelled Crow. “Drop that damn light!”

“Huh?” muttered Cat. Then “Oh. . . yeah!”

And he finally released the lantern so he could use both hands and the light bounced and clanked loudly on the cement and began to roll away from them, over and over, spilling light into the dust, before it was kicked back toward them by the shoe of a six-foot-four-inch black man who had been killed while working the graveyard shift at the Texaco station.

The man still wore his uniform. It still bore his name, “Roy,” on the little patch above his left breast pocket.

But he didn't care. He didn't care what he wore. He didn't care that he was “Roy.” He cared only for the smell of living, pumping blood.

The half dozen others looming behind him out of the darkness felt the same way.

The first man to see the horde appear was ~dam, sprawled stunned and bleeding on the edge of the light from the other lantern. Still unable to do much more than stumble, he could only moan, “Sweet blessed Jesus! Jack! Look out!”

Jack saw them. He saw-what was it?-six, seven, eight of them? Coming for them, shuffling at them and he couldn't get loose from this little squirt he had already shot, much less save Cat, much less do anything about the others.

“FELIX!!” he screamed and then, in his panic, went into a frenzy of his own.

He grabbed one end of the huge arrow already piercing the monster and began to work it fiercely back and forth in the wound. The monster howled and spat and writhed some more and its gnarled hands began clutching and opening spasmodically and during one of the openings Cat came loose for just a second and Jack kicked his friend brutally to safety with a chain-mailed boot to the chest.

But it still had him, the little spitting fiend still had him and he could see the others shuffling closer, could hear the sound of their dry dead feet in the dust, could almost feel their gnarled hands and gray fangs...

“FELIXGODDAMMIT!” he wailed and grabbed the little monster and rolled over and over and flung it, with every ounce of fear he had, away from him.

There was the sound of chain mail popping, fabric and flesh ripping, and Jack Crow was free.

When he lurched triumphantly to his feet, Roy was there, face to rotting face. Roy hissed. His great black hands closed on Jack's throat.

Jack was helpless and knew it and he hit the switch for his chest cross and the halogen light was blinding to both of them and painful to the vampire. It arched and shrieked from the agony of the cross of light, steam already rising from the surface of its dead skin.

It saved Jack's life when it threw the light, and Jack, away from its body.

Jack smacked the concrete floor chest first and the halogen bulbs exploded into dusty darkness beneath him and suddenly all was as it had been only he had no light and no hope and Felix would not move and that's when Deputy Kirk Thompson, terrified by the sounds he had heard on Joplin's radio, burst into the cavernous darkness with his .44 magnum in hand.

He took one incredulous look then, pure hero type, braced his feet wide, supported his right, shooting, hand with his left, and began to fire. He was a sharpshooter. His first two hollowpoints struck Roy full in the chest. The next one struck the little. impaled one, the thrashing one, in the left side of the head. The third shot blew a hole in the shoulder of an old woman, already lame, who had managed to drag herself within one more step of Adam without the young priest having yet seen her. -

It was excellent shooting. The shots were dead-on accurate, spaced no more than a half second apart, and worthless against the undead.

They did have some effect. The vampires roared and jerked, the old woman after Adam was flung back briefly out

of range, all eyes were turned to the deputy...

All eyes . . . Felix's eyes.

My God, thought Jack, staring at his gunman, he made

a move!

And then Team Crow saw him start to draw.