The Last Family Road Trip

by Matthew S. Cox

  Pothead’s lighter emits a chip, chip, chip sound before a single flame lights his face orange for a few seconds. Might as well get out of here before my clothes stink.

  “Yeah.” I hurry after Cody. “You don’t have to be afraid of turning your back on me.”

  “Umm.”

  I zip around in front of him too fast for him to react, and he walks straight into me, then jumps back with a startled shout.

  “Really. If I wanted to hurt you, it wouldn’t matter if you were looking at me or not.”

  He swallows hard. “Is that supposed to make me relax?”

  “No. I’m only being honest. Let’s go find your brother.”

  Cody stares at me for a few seconds. “Okay.” He lets out a long breath and offers a hand. “Truce?”

  I take his hand. “We technically can’t have a truce since we weren’t fighting. But I know what you mean.”

  After we shake hands, I grab his wrist and hurry toward the caves.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “There’s no lights up there. Follow my lead.”

  “I got a flashlight.”

  “Yeah, and if you use it out here, someone will see us going into the cave when it’s supposed to be closed.

  “Oh. Yeah. Crap. What if we get caught?”

  I smile. “Don’t worry.”

  “Maybe we should get a park ranger or something instead of going in ourselves?”

  “I thought of that, too. But, they’d take forever to send in a search party, aren’t capable of doing anything I can’t do, and if whatever’s down there is involved… they won’t help at all.”

  “Crap.”

  We head out of the RV park, cross the loop road, and start up the hill to the trail that leads to the cave. Ugh. So much for vacation.

  I just knew this was going to get weird.

  14

  The Right Moment

  An eerie lack of darkness at ground level under a black sky makes the trek up the trail to the cave entrance feel as though I’m exploring an alien planet. The other day, this uphill walk winded Cody at a leisurely pace. Tonight, he struggles to keep up with me since I’m not trying to pretend I’m tired.

  Not that I’m trying to lose him or anything, but my thoughts race with ideas of what might’ve happened to Ben. Everything from being merely lost in one of the chambers to having fallen to his death to encountering whatever is living at the bottom—or not living as the case might be.

  A park ranger up ahead turns a flashlight toward us, no doubt at the scuff of Cody’s sneakers coming up the trail. Seconds before the beam hits me, I leap straight up without a sound, flying in an arc to land a step behind him. The ranger stabs Cody in the eyes with the flashlight, making him cry out and cover his face.

  “What are you doing up here at night, son?” asks the ranger, his tone a mix of worry and suspicion.

  “Umm.” Cody looks around, having no idea where I went.

  I step up to within a few inches of the ranger. “Excuse me?”

  The guy jumps and drops the flashlight. It takes him a few seconds to remember how to breathe. He turns and squints generally in my direction. What the clouds do for the sun, they also do for the moon. It’s nearly as dark outside as it is in the cave.

  “What are you kids doing out here at night? The cave’s closed… and it’s off limits except for guided tours.”

  “Kids?” I ask, staring into his eyes. “What kids? There’s no one up here but you.”

  Cody, rasping for breath, stumbles over to the dropped flashlight and picks it up.

  “You should just stand here and think nothing’s out of the ordinary,” I say.

  “Whoa,” whispers Cody. “Are you mind controlling him?”

  I hold up a pinching gesture. “Just a little.”

  The ranger resumes his patrol, ignoring us entirely.

  “That’s pretty cool.” Cody twists to watch the man go by. “Also pretty evil.”

  “It’s not evil,” I say, before grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the cave entrance.

  Cody ducks under the giant rock, then points the flashlight around at the first chamber. Apparently, the park service discourages people from going into the caves after hours by turning the lights off. “Messing with people’s heads is evil.”

  “It depends on what I do with it. Making someone forget they saw me or forget vampires exist isn’t bad. It lets people keep their sanity. Forcing people to do things or using my abilities to steal is bad. And I don’t do that.”

  “Uh huh. Sure you don’t.”

  I creep forward, looking around. “I’m serious.”

  “Okay. I believe you,” says Cody in a tone that says he really doesn’t.

  It’s tempting to give him some line about how vampires change based on their nature, and as an Innocent I’m all cute and such… but that logic doesn’t work. Take Glim. Visually, he’s pretty damn harsh, but he’s an awesome guy. So our outward appearance isn’t at all reflective of who we are. Maybe I could get away with a half truth?

  “You know how I look like I’m sixteen?”

  “Fifteen, but yeah.”

  I sigh. “Really? Whatever. Anyway, it’s because of my bloodline. I’m about as sweet and harmless as vampires can get.”

  “It’s a trick, right? Like that kid in the movie. Act all innocent so people get close and you can drink their blood.”

  Okay, I can’t help but chuckle. “While I doubt deceptive hunting is the reason for my looks, I have used that trick. But I don’t kill anyone. Mortals kill each other all the time. Does that mean every mortal is a homicidal maniac?”

  “No. But it’s different.”

  I pause at the top of the stairs and look back at him. “So you expect all vampires to be killers because you might have witnessed one kill a woman, but not all mortals to be killers despite there being murders all over the place?”

  “Yeah basically.”

  “Umm. Why?”

  He shrugs. “Everything you read about vampires describes them as bloodthirsty monsters.”

  “You’re being a species-ist.”

  “That’s not even a word.” He points the flashlight down the stairs. “Come on. Ben’s in trouble.”

  With a sigh, I march into the cave, taking the lead. “You do realize that you’re basing your opinions on movies and stuff people just made up. I bet one out of every thousand people responsible for any bit of vampire fiction has seen one for real and remembers it. Do you believe everything you see on the Internet?”

  “Of course not.”

  “My mom works with a guy who used to be in the military. He was in the Middle East somewhere. The guy’s super racist against anyone from that part of the world because he’d spent years being shot at. It’s still wrong. Not everyone over there wants to kill him.”

  “My grandpa hates Germans still, ’cause of what happened to his father during the war.”

  I stop again and whirl to look at him. “A bad experience is hard to get over, but it doesn’t make hating an entire group correct.”

  “Are you a vegan?”

  “What?” I stare at him. “What does that have to do with you hating vampires?”

  “You sound like my Aunt Wilma.”

  “Whatever.”

  We continue down the stairs. A minute or so later, he mutters, “Sorry.”

  “Forget it. You’re upset over your brother. It’s okay.”

  He’s quiet until we reach the spot where the stairwell overlooks the ‘pit.’ “Ben?” His voice echoes over itself a few times and fades to silence. “Crap. What if he fell?”

  “Wait here.”

  I leap the railing and fly down the vertical shaft.

  “Hey!” shouts Cody.

  “Relax,” I call back.

  If not for trying to find a missing boy, I’d snap some pictures on the way down. Dad would love this. I swoop to the bottom, which thankfully has no sign of any Ben-shaped splat marks, so I return to th
e stairs above. Cody’s pale as a ghost and white-knuckling the railing. I float up to eye level with him, hanging in space over the hole.

  “I said relax. You don’t look relaxed.”

  “You jumped.”

  “Technically, I’m flying, not jumping.”

  Cody peers down at my sneakers. “You can fly?”

  “Either that or you’ve done entirely too much pot.” I tap a finger to my chin. “Is this where I’m supposed to launch into a five-minute song about how awesome it is to fly while you stare at me like I’m nuts?”

  “What?”

  I hop the fence and land next to him. “Never mind. Just making a Disney joke. And he’s not down there.”

  He slouches with relief. “Where do you think he went?”

  “I have no idea. I’m a vampire not a psychic. You should ask your mother.”

  Cody frowns. “She’ll kill us both if Ben really did go into the cave on his own.”

  “Better being ‘killed’ by your mother than what’s down here.”

  He grabs my shoulder. “Didn’t you just try to tell me that most vampires won’t kill people?”

  “I did. But one, I don’t know for sure that what’s down here is a vampire at all. And while most of us are just like normal people with a few extra bells and whistles, there are still killers.”

  “Are you trying to scare the crap out of me or make me feel better?”

  I jog down the stairs. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure that out.”

  At the bottom, I take a few deep breaths in my nose. Crap. I can smell Ben… and about a hundred other people, but his scent is strongest. “He was here.”

  After a moment of a flashlight beam dancing across the floor at my feet, Cody reaches the end of the stairs. “Are you psychic or not?”

  “Well, not like your mother. I don’t see visions or anything. Guess tweaking people’s memory counts as psychic. But anyway, I can smell him.”

  “We don’t have BO.”

  I glance sideways at him. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  He cringes.

  “Seriously though, I don’t exactly have a normal nose anymore.”

  “Oh, right.”

  We walk for a few minutes in silence.

  “Do I really stink?” asks Cody.

  “Probably not.”

  He jogs up to walk beside me, nearly tripping on uneven ground. “Probably?”

  “I can pick up scents like a dog. It’s kinda hard for me to tell anymore what’s strong enough for normal people to smell.”

  “Oh.”

  There’s no sign of Ben in the Cathedral Room, so I keep going downward. That sigil on the wall needles at me. While no one but me saw it, their mother had a strong reaction to the Garden of the Gods room… so I bet that’s where Ben went. Careful not to go too fast that Cody hurts himself trying to keep up, I head straight there. This time, I go down the rock slide at full speed… and yeah, it probably would’ve scared Sophia.

  Despite not needing air, having a few hundred feet of earth over my head is kinda scary. I’ve never considered myself claustrophobic, but I’m developing a strong urge to hurry back to open sky. Being caught in a cave-in is more frightening when the cave-in itself won’t kill me. An instant crushing death sucks but it beats being trapped under tons of rock for-possible-ever, starving while going feral.

  Cody skids out from the bottom of the slide and stands, shining the flashlight around at various dark places and holes. “I hope he didn’t fall down there.”

  “I have a feeling I know where he went. If he’s not where I’m thinking, I’ll check down there.” Pretty sure the tour guide called this hole the ‘Green Well.’

  We hurry past the Brown Waterfall—that totally sounds like a tragedy involving a septic tank—to the chamber full of pink. Sure enough, his scent is in the air. Of course it’s so muddled with thousands of other people being in here I can’t follow it. I decide to trust my hunch, ignore my better judgement, and approach the spot on the left side where a small glowing sigil marks the rock.

  “Hey, let me outta here,” cries Ben, so faint that human ears wouldn’t notice. The far-off echo makes me picture another tunnel behind this wall. Metallic banging follows.

  “He’s alive, and… trapped,” I whisper.

  Cody grabs my arm. “What? How do you know? Trapped?”

  “What else would ‘hey, let me outta here’ mean?”

  “Dammit. The vampire got him.”

  I brush my hands around the stone, looking for a way to go in.

  “Hey,” says Cody from a few feet to my right. He crouches and picks up another crude stake. “This is Ben’s. He was here.”

  “Well, obviously.” I point at the wall. “I can hear him.”

  “How do we get in?”

  “Working on it.”

  My frustration level rises until I find myself slapping and kicking at the rock. The stone isn’t impressed. Having no other ideas, I try pushing the sigil like a button. That, too, doesn’t work, but I do notice a faint tingle upon contact.

  “Hmm. That’s something.”

  “What?” asks Cody.

  “There’s a mark on the wall here that’s glowing.”

  He leans closer, squinting. “I don’t see anything.”

  “It’s like paranormal or something. Maybe like ghosts. I can see it. It’s two circles inside each other a little bigger than a quarter, with a swoosh around them that curves into a vertical line going down. Right… here.” I jab my finger at the center of the circle part—and it sinks into the rock like peanut butter.

  “Whoa.” Cody blinks.

  “Eww.” I cringe at the sensation.

  Before I can pull my finger out, a section of wall opens like candle wax melting on sped-up video, revealing another cave tunnel. Ben’s repetitive shouting of ‘let me out’ becomes loud enough for Cody to hear.

  “Ben!”

  I grab him before he can run in. “Shh. Be careful. Let me go first.”

  He leans back. “Wait. How do I know you’re not trying to trick me? Maybe you’re with him. You went right to this spot. A little too fast.”

  “Cody…” I sigh. “I wouldn’t need to trick you. If I wanted you to do something, I’d make you do something like I made that ranger forget he saw us. Second, if I was really luring you in here, wouldn’t I want to be behind you so you can’t run?”

  “Oh. Duh. Right. Sorry.”

  “Hey!” shouts Ben. “Cody?”

  Grr. He’s going to give us away.

  I dash down a thirty-ish foot tunnel with glass-smooth walls. At the end, it meets the narrow end of an oval chamber. Muted colors tell me there’s a weak source of light somewhere. I gasp and hold my breath at the overwhelming stench of rotting meat. Cody skids to a stop behind me and gags, shielding his mouth and nose in the crook of his elbow.

  “What the”—he coughs—“heck is that?”

  “Dead stuff,” I mutter.

  Several rugs, three old sofas, a table, and a bunch of chairs stand at the center of the chamber next to a natural rock column that resembles the other ‘drippy’ formations in the rest of the cavern. Most of the ceiling and walls have a blue-green shade that reminds me of a hospital operating room—or an abandoned mental asylum. While I don’t see any ghosts, I do have the distinct sense of being watched. A pair of glass jars hang from mounts, both containing a tennis-ball-sized sphere of glowing pale yellow… something.

  “Hey,” says Ben, from up ahead on the right.

  He’s in a big cage roughly the size of an Old West jail cell made from iron slats. The prison is elevated from the floor on a natural dais of dark teal rock, and stands against the wall midway across the long part of the oval. Okay. That’s strange. I jog over and climb a series of three stone ridges like a natural stairway, and stop by the cell door.

  “Sarah?” asks Ben. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Your brother said you disappeared… something about tryin
g to rescue me.”

  Ben goes scarlet in the face. “Umm.”

  I examine the door. The cage slats are about two inches wide and a quarter inch thick, arranged in a grid with a rivet securing every point they cross. A lock plate—again like something out of the Old West—secures a full-sized door on the front face. I grab it and pull, trying to rip the thing open, but it doesn’t give.

  “Umm.” Ben chuckles. “What are you doing? Trust me, you’re not gonna break it. I’ve been trying for a while.”

  “Shh,” I rasp, then adjust my grip and pull again. My feet slide over the ground toward the cage, but it doesn’t break. “Damn, this thing is tough.”

  Ben reaches out and puts his hand on mine. “Go for help. Get out of here before the fiends catch you.” Fear’s obvious in his eyes and shaky voice. “They could come back any minute.”

  I stop. “Huh? What do you mean they? Fiends… plural?”

  The rapid scuffing of feet on rock emanates from the interior passage.

  “Too late,” whispers Cody, pressing his back against the cell.

  I spin left, caught off guard by the sight of a group of five dudes and two women rushing toward us across the chamber, loping in not-quite-human strides. All have glowing red eyes and fangs with barely-sentient expressions. Ugh. Scraps. A huge figure steps into view at the mouth of the passage opposite the one we entered from. I’m sure it’s the same guy I saw in the woods yesterday.

  The scraps charge at us, but I don’t get the sense they’re planning on tearing us to pieces… yet.

  “What now?” asks Cody, his voice way too high for a fifteen-year-old.

  “Nothing. Don’t fight.”

  I keep my head down, hoping that avoiding eye contact with the big guy will fake him out into thinking I’m mortal. The last thing I need now is some territorial BS and another Petra ‘ripping the shit out of each other’ situation. When the Scraps swarm us, I pretend to flail at them like an ordinary girl too weak to fight them off. One guy unlocks the cell door, and the mob tosses the two of us in the cell, then slams it. Ben grabs Cody and tries damn hard not to break down in tears with me watching.

  “Umm,” mutters Cody. “We’re in deep shit.”

  “Shh,” I whisper. “Wait.”