by Jerry Hart
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…
* * *
…and 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 Chris.
“What’s wrong?” Owen asked.
“They’re here,” said Chris, 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 its 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 blouse with a white skirt. The guy was in a brown turtleneck and white pants. It was a step up from what he’d worn at the Trails hours earlier. 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.”
“I killed the other one at the tree house; I know what to do.”
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 sprang 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. It was just hours ago that he and his friend had attacked that girl in the tree house and then escaped. They’d tracked him to a nightclub downtown shortly after where he and this innocent girl had been having what looked like a great time.
Owen swore this guy would not get the chance to harm anyone else. Tonight they’d had the element of surprise because Eric hadn’t seen them, couldn’t have possibly known that they were still on his tail after he’d fled the Trails.
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 laying 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. Owen 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 unt
il the last minute that his assailant was now standing in front of him.
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 rolling down the slanted roof. Owen jumped down after him.
Eric landed on a trampoline and bounced back into the air. Owen kicked him while in midair, and Eric landed on a play-set slide. Owen 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 Owen, 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, Owen 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 Owen 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,” Owen said.
“I don’t know what a ‘vampire’ is, but I’m sure you’re right,” Eric coughed out.
Owen 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?” Owen asked, aiming the crossbow at Eric’s heart. “If you’re not gonna talk—”
“You’re pretty fast,” said Eric.
Owen 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.”
“Why do I doubt that?”
Owen 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.
Owen 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 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, and he 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 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 suspicious.
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 second 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 case of the tree house, they’d had to leave the sludge there. They didn’t have time to dispose of it properly because they’d had to get Daniel and the girl to the hospital. No one seemed to notice or care that it was there, though.
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 4
Daniel still couldn’t believe he’d broken his arm. He sat at his worktable with his arm straight out in front of him. His laptop computer was glaring at him, but he was not glaring back. Instead, he was noticing Alyssa, who was sitting on a couch in the middle of the room. She was reading a book. What book is it, today? he asked himself. He leaned forward slightly to get a better look: The Nature of Animals.
Another animal book. Daniel just didn’t get Alyssa’s obsession with the beasts. He knew she had wanted to be a veterinarian but he didn’t get why. Ever since he was a kid, he’d always had bad experiences with animals. His first pet—a frog—wound up dead after only three hours in his care. His second pet was a little more common: a dog. The dog had bitten him when he’d tried playing with it and his dad, being as overprotective as he was, gave it away. Daniel never saw it again. He didn’t even have enough time to give it a name, but he’d been partial to Bentley.
That was the name he’d given his next pet, however. He’d waited until he graduated high school and moved out on his own to get another dog. Bentley had been a good dog—an English bulldog—and extremely affectionate. Daniel would have never guessed once he’d gotten into his first relationship with a girl he would’ve gladly given up the dog for her. Amy, his first true love, didn’t like Bentley at all and made sure Daniel knew every moment of every day they were together. In an effort to make her happy, Daniel had given Bentley away to complete strangers.
Amy broke up with Daniel a few weeks later. He had been devastated. He had no girlfriend and no dog. Bentley had been the only one in this world who’d loved him unconditionally, and Daniel had given him away without hesitation.
Alyssa noticed Daniel peering awkwardly at her book and put it down on the table in front of her. “Yes, it’s another animal book. What of it?” she asked with a smile.
“Nothing. I just don’t get why you love them so much.”
“You used to love them, too. I remember that sad story about Bentley,” she said as she got up from the couch. “You know, it sounds more like you should hate girls instead of animals.”
“I could never hate girls,” he said smoothly.
Alyssa laughed. “Stop trying to convince me you’re not gay. I never thought you were.”
“Who started that rumor, then?” Daniel asked defensivesively.
“I already told you. Your brother did.”
Daniel ha
d heard that before. Douglas, his biological twin (Daniel loved to brag about how he was “two minutes older”), had caused a little havoc when he came to visit one time. Daniel didn’t doubt his brother was the root of the “gay” rumor but he loved teasing Alyssa about it anyway. It made her laugh and he loved to make her laugh.
He leaned back in his chair and stared around the huge condominium in which they resided. It had two floors, all of their bedrooms upstairs. He couldn’t believe Alyssa was able to afford this place, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. Her family was rich, her daddy being in the oil business. But Alyssa never pretended to be better than anybody.
Suddenly the front door opened and in walked Chris and Owen. Neither one of them looked too happy. Chris immediately went upstairs without a word. Owen sat down on the couch and stared at the wall in front of him. Alyssa sat down next to him.
“Tough night?”
“It was action-packed,” Owen declared. “I used my Rejecter.”
“You only get one,” Daniel said.
“I know,” Owen replied, and then whispered, “Eric got away. Again.”
“Oh no. How?” Alyssa asked.
Owen didn’t answer.
“Chris is taking it pretty hard, isn’t he?” she asked.
“He doesn’t know yet.”
“Are you serious? Why did he seem so upset?”
“Because Eric bit Stephanie.”
* * *
Chris stood in front of his bathroom mirror, studying the bite mark on his neck. His heart began pounding relentlessly in his chest. He had felt the pain in the beginning, when he was fighting Eric, but it didn’t really register until later, when he was comforting Stephanie. It was still a mystery to the monster hunters as to what happened to a person after they were bitten. Was it like the movies, where the victim turned into one, too? Upon seeing Stephanie with the wound on her neck, he knew she would be their first case of this. And now Chris knew he would be the second.
He had known going into this that he and his friends were out of their league. This sudden outbreak of monster attacks had started two years ago; there had been nothing like it before. Basically, before that time, monsters didn’t exist.
