by Jerry Hart
The supplement itself consisted of leech venom as well as other artificial chemicals, and it was quite a potent mix. Too potent, in fact, to be taken all at once. But separating it had just proven debilitating. He couldn’t very well work on the orb by knowing only half about it. He needed the entire supplement.
A faint rumble sounded in the background, but Armenus was only aware of it on a subconscious level. He continued staring at the orb. The problem was, once it was activated and its energy sent out, those affected by it became incredibly strong. The last thing Armenus wanted was for his subjects to become as strong as him, even if they were put under his control.
But what if, for some reason, his brainless subjects decided to rebel against him? He’d be powerless to stop them.
As he sat there, pondering his dilemma, the rumble grew louder.
Was it even worth the trouble anymore? Why did he want to become ruler of his world? Because of the division of the races, of course. How could he forget? No one knew the truth because Armenus’s government—of which his own father was acting member—kept it covered up. If he, Armenus, tried to expose the truth, everything would spiral into anarchy. He was sure of it. The humans even wound up suckered into the lie when they’d arrived in Armenus’s world, coerced into using their “weapons” to eradicate the leeches off the face of the earth.
The moyan government was a dangerous entity, and it had to be stopped. And that was where the orb came in. If it would just work properly.
But Armenus questioned his tactics: killing his own people in order to save them.
His experiments were dangerous, and most of his test subjects did not survive. Was he any better than the humans Calvin and Claude, with their destructive scepters? Those two single-handedly destroyed thousands of leeches with those explosive weapons; they even destroyed cities and villages—homes. The moyans had to rebuild everything. However, the scepters had caused the land to slowly decay in the direction they’d been pointed (away from the capital), and that rot was circling back. Soon it would hit the capital.
Yet, it wasn’t completely the humans’ fault. The moyan government—Armenus’s government—had agreed to the “cleansing” of their world after learning about the humans’ scepters. They knew what they were getting their people into. And for what? To get rid of a species that posed no real threat to them! Armenus’s own mother—
No, he couldn’t think of her now.
The rumble grew to a thunderous roar and Armenus was forced to look out the front windshield. A large, pointy silver aircraft with large wings was racing straight toward him. He leapt to the control to power on the pod, but he knew he would be too late. He tried anyway.
It slowly came to life and he pulled on the throttle, forcing the pod to the left. But the aircraft had been too close, and it grazed the side of the pod. A graze from such a large thing, however, was like being shot with a cannonball. Sparks exploded inside the pod, blinding Armenus momentarily as he tried to regain control. The pod fell at an astounding speed toward the ground.
Chapter 1. The Leech
Owen thought he heard an explosion, but he was not sure; there were a few things distracting the little blond boy. The sounds of plates and silverware clanging in the background bugged Owen Walters. He could barely hear the TV, even though he was only two feet away from it.
“Don’t sit so close, son,” said his father from the dining room. Owen didn’t even bother to look at him; he simply backed away a little. The smells of potatoes and steak were filling his nostrils. He couldn’t wait to eat. Owen was certain his dad made the best steaks in the world. Sure, at fourteen, he hadn’t tasted every food in existence, and even though he’d had steaks at the local steakhouse in town, he was still certain his dad’s won out in that contest.
As Owen waited for dinner, he thought about the upcoming weekend. He had gloated about his dad’s grilling skills to his best friend Cullen Matthews for a long time now, and this weekend, he was finally going to show what was what. His dad and Cullen’s were going to have a barbecue cook-off Friday evening. There was also something else Owen was looking forward to this weekend, though: the trip to the city on Saturday. Owen loved going to the city with his dad. It was a shame they didn’t do it very often. Living in the country was nice, but the lights and the sounds of downtown San Sebastian, with the live bands and the interesting people walking around, were not to be denied. It beat doing chores any day.
Suddenly the clanging of the silverware on the dinner table grew louder. What is Dad doing? Owen wondered. He turned around and saw his dad was nowhere near the dinner table—the plates and glasses were shaking all by themselves.
But now the table was shaking. Everything was shaking. Owen jumped to his feet and stood in the middle of the living room, too scared to move. His dad ran in and grabbed him, pulling him to the nearest doorframe.
“It’s all right, son. It’s just an earthquake,” his dad said, a level of disbelief in his voice.
Owen had never experienced an earthquake before, and by the sound of his voice, his dad had never experienced one either. His father, Russell, was in his mid forties, a little gray showing in his blond hair; Owen greatly favored him. “The Walters genes run strong,” Russell was always telling his son.
Everything was shaking violently now. An ear-splitting sound rumbled the house even more. It sounded like an explosion. Owen looked out the nearest window and saw the field just outside grow bright as day.
Now he saw something else—little pieces of flaming debris were crashing down. After a moment, the field grew dark, the house instantly stopped shaking and everything was quiet once again. Owen looked to the TV; the screen was filled with static, the cartoon he’d been watching now gone.
His father let him go and walked out the front door. “Stay right there. I’m gonna check it out.”
Owen stayed right where he was. He saw his dad through the nearest window, staring at the flaming debris that had crashed onto the field. He saw Dad look up toward the sky. The field grew steadily bright again, as if the sun was quickly rising. Owen felt the house shake once more. He closed his eyes....
* * *
When he opened them again, he saw only a steering wheel. His head throbbed viciously as he suddenly remembered he was in a silver Honda; he often got these headaches whenever he had such dreams. He looked to his side, the passenger seat, and saw a young, dark-haired guy in his mid-twenties sitting next to him, looking nervous.
“What’s wrong, Chris?” he asked.
“They’re here,” said Chris Weaver, pointing past him. Owen saw a white, one-story house across the street from them. Two figures were on the front porch. One was a short dark-haired girl, the other a tall, skinny boy with dirt-blond hair. The two appeared to be making out.
Owen glanced quickly into his rearview mirror and slid his blond bangs from in front of his forehead. He was now two years older than the boy in his dream.
The couple made their way from the porch into the house. Owen and Chris grabbed a black backpack from the backseat of the car and got out, jogging silently to the house across the street. The grass was wet from the storm that had hit earlier. The moonlight caused the whole area to look abnormally bright. It was a chilly October night in San Sebastian, Texas. Chris and Owen, who were wearing matching black hoodies and tattered blue jeans, ran to the side of the house, trying to peek through one of the windows.
They were looking directly into the dark living room. The only light source came from the foyer. There was no sign of movement.
“Where are they?” Chris asked.
“Bedroom, you think?”
“If they are, I’m going to throw up. We need to hurry.”
Owen laughed quietly, and then suddenly hunched down to hide himself. “I think I saw them.”
He and Chris slowly peeked into the window. Owen had indeed seen them. The boy and girl were in the hallway, entwined in each other’s arms, kissing passionately. The girl was wearing a pink bl
ouse with a white skirt. The guy was in a brown turtleneck and white pants. Chris started to shiver as he lowered himself back down.
A moment later, the boys looked back into the house. The couple was gone from the hallway. Owen tried the window; it was unlocked. He opened it, and then he and Chris crawled in. The living room was plainly decorated, a brown couch being the only main furniture. They listened for any sign of movement before they proceeded. They found none. Chris reached into the bag and pulled out a pistol. Owen grabbed a crossbow, his weapon of choice.
“You ready for this?” Chris asked. “Remember, aim for the heart.”
“You act like this is our first.”
A piercing scream cut through the air like a knife. It was coming from a room at the end of the hall. Owen and Chris darted toward the door, but halfway there, it opened and the girl came running toward them, crying and screaming. Chris grabbed her and held her behind him. She screamed and struggled in his grasp, but he settled her down quickly.
For a moment, all was silent. The tension was intense.
The girl was sobbing, frozen in terror. The bedroom door was cracked open, a light flickering in the dark room. It looked like a TV was turned on in there.
Suddenly, something sprung from the dark room. The guy was running toward Owen and Chris on all fours, and he was smiling.
And there he was, in front of them—the one Owen and Chris were after. His name was Eric. Weeks ago, they’d tracked him to a nightclub downtown where he and an innocent girl had been having what looked like a great time. Owen and Chris had found the girl moments later, completely drained of blood.
Owen swore this guy would not get the chance to kill again. Tonight they’d had the element of surprise because Eric hadn’t seen them that night and had no idea he was being tracked tonight.
But now....
Owen fired an arrow at Eric, who dodged it, causing that arrow to shoot straight into the wall behind him. Eric was stunned by the attempt, though. Chris took that opportunity to trip him, and Eric face-planted straight into the front door.
Chris dove for him, pistol in hand, but Eric was too quick. He turned around and grabbed Chris by the throat. Owen saw the guy toss Chris into the living room like a rag doll. Eric stood back up to full height, and Owen was taken aback by how tall he suddenly was. He seemed to have grown a few inches. Maybe it was Owen’s mind playing tricks on him. He feigned pulling the trigger on the crossbow. Eric made to dodge...but no arrow shot out at him. Owen smiled and really pulled the trigger this time. The arrow went right through Eric’s left eye.
He dropped to the ground, yelling in pain, as he pulled the arrow out. His eyeball came with it. Owen saw Chris’s gun lying on the floor. He grabbed it just as the vampire lunged for him. Owen kicked him hard in the chest, sending him flying through the front door. Eric landed in the wet grass of the front yard. Owen ran through the open hole that used to be the front door and pointed the crossbow at Eric, but Eric leapt into the air faster than Owen could register it.
“Up here,” a voice called behind Owen.
He spun around and saw Eric standing on the roof of the house. He had a satisfied smile on his face. He shot another arrow at the monster and missed. Eric laughed and jumped to the roof of the house next door. Then the next roof, and the next one. It appeared effortless for him. He just kept leaping until he was out of sight.
* * *
Eric was seven houses away now. His left eye socket was throbbing with pain; he knew the eye was gone for good. He wouldn’t be able to regenerate it. If he ever got the chance, he’d rip out the eyes of the guy who did this to him.
With his thoughts swirling in anger, Eric didn’t realize his assailant was now standing in front of him until the last minute.
And now he was making a fist.
He was reaching back.
Eric’s face was smashed inward. The pain was extraordinary. He fell on his back and began tumbling down the slanted roof. The blond guy jumped down after him.
Eric landed on a trampoline and bounced back into the air. The blond guy kicked him while in midair, and Eric landed on a play-set slide. The blonde hopped on the trampoline and landed in front of the slide. Eric lay there for a moment.
But only a moment. He kicked out at the blonde, connecting with his face and causing him to stumble backward. Eric took this opportunity to tackle him. As soon as they landed on the ground, the blond guy managed to kick Eric in the chest, sending him flying up a few feet.
Before Eric could land on the ground, he noticed the guy getting back up to his feet. Suddenly the blonde grabbed Eric by his damaged eye socket and slammed him to the ground. Eric had the wind knocked out of him.
“I thought you vampires didn’t breathe,” said the blond guy.
“I don’t know what a ‘vampire’ is, but I’m sure you’re right,” Eric coughed out.
The blond guy raised the crossbow he had strapped over his shoulder. “If you’re not a vampire, what are you?”
“Why do you care? You’re about to kill me anyway.”
“It’s important.”
Eric chose to remain silent. He loved denying this guy the information he so desperately wanted; the look on his face was priceless.
“Any last words?” Blondie asked, aiming the crossbow at Eric’s heart. “If you’re not gonna talk—”
“You’re pretty fast,” said Eric.
Blondie lowered the weapon slightly. “Are those really going to be your last words?”
“Seriously. How did you catch up to me so fast?”
“I ran track in high school,” Blondie said.
“Why do I doubt that?”
The blonde said nothing.
“Well, if you’re going to kill me, you might want to tie your shoes first,” Eric said.
He hadn’t been sure how the boy would react to this, but sure enough, the blonde looked down at his feet. Eric took the opportunity to kick the guy in the face, and then jumped on top of him as he hit the ground.
Blondie threw punches at Eric as he tried to sink his teeth into his neck, but none of the hits had much force. Eric grabbed the guy’s arms to restrain him.
He leaned in closer, preparing to bite, but suddenly, a blinding light formed between the two of them, and everything became quiet, as if all sound had been turned off.
The next thing Eric knew, he was flying into the air and through a wooden picket fence, into the neighbor’s yard.
* * *
Owen jumped up and ran to the fence Eric had been blasted through, but the creature was gone. Owen cursed, and then looked down at the small blue-black ball in his hand. It was a round object the size of a tennis ball, a handy little gadget courtesy of Dan the Man called a Rejecter. It was a mildly harmless bomb with a little round window on one side that shot energy in whatever direction it was pointed.
“You only get one,” Daniel always said on account of how hard they were to make.
The trip back to the house should have taken only seconds, but Owen felt like dragging his feet. He was ashamed of himself; he’d let Eric get away. He shouldn’t have wasted time talking; he should’ve just killed him while he had the chance. And the untied-shoe thing....
Oldest trick in the book, he thought, cursing himself. Only a child could have fallen for that, and that’s just what Owen thought he was: a child. He was a decade younger than Chris, who was twenty-six. Owen hated being the youngest of his comrades. Alyssa, who was currently at HQ in a spiteful mood, was about to turn twenty-four and Daniel, who was nursing a broken arm, was nineteen and a genius to boot. But Owen wasn’t anything special, not in his own eyes, at least. Lack of self-confidence was definitely a curse of being sixteen.
As he walked down the street, he saw a few people either glancing out of their windows or standing on their porches, looking around nervously, no doubt wondering what had been running across their roofs. They cast glances at Owen, and he tried not to look back, though he knew he already looked pretty suspic
ious.
As he continued walking, he couldn’t get out of his head what Eric had said before escaping, about not being a vampire. Owen never truly believed he was one in the first place (it was a theory Chris desperately clung to). This revelation from Eric himself was an eye-opener, no pun intended, and something he couldn’t wait to reveal to the others, especially Chris.
He wasn’t looking forward to telling Chris about Eric’s escape, however.
Owen slowly walked into the house where he had left Chris and the girl. The girl was on the plain brown couch, crying. Chris was sitting next to her.
“It’s okay, Stephanie. He’s gone, now.”
“He bit me!”
Blood was dripping from a wound on her neck. She was holding a towel against it. It appeared nothing would calm her down. Chris noticed Owen.
“You get him?” he asked Owen.
Owen knew the procedure: After the creature’s heart was destroyed, its body dissolved into a nasty, brown sludge. After the slaying, the sludge was to be buried to keep from being discovered.
In the two years Owen had known Chris, he’d never lied to him about anything. This would be his first lie. “Yeah, I got him.”
Chapter 2. The Redheaded Stranger
The arcade wasn’t packed tonight; it never was nowadays. Les Huntington was actually happy about this. With the advancement in videogame technology, nobody had to leave his or her homes to experience top-of-the-line gaming. Les himself refused to buy next-generation game systems; it just wasn’t the same as sticking quarter after quarter into these beasts until the end of the game was reached, and in his hand was a big bag full of fun money.
He found his favorite game, Hero Saga, at the far end of the arcade...but some red-haired kid was already playing it.
