by David Paul
Every once and awhile, a concerned citizen will burn down a suspected crack house in this area. The only white people in this area are taking drugs, buying them, or selling them. It was truly the most decimated area in the entire state. The Rhode Island economy thrived off of the jewelry industry. When that industry died, the state took a big hit in more ways than one. People where out of work with no jobs to replace the ones they lost. It changed the state forever. Crime flourished. The philosophy of the lawmakers was to contain the crime to one area, keeping it out of the nicer parts. It was the only thing that the authorities could do.
“I don’t know if I should leave you in the car this time,” the vampire said.
David gets to the outskirts of an area that locals call, the Pit.
“Nice area,” Fiona said. “Do you want to move here?” She asked. Fiona laughs and makes David crack a smile. Ever since Fiona decided against being turned, David has been in a noticeably better mood. His sense of humor is coming back. The way she keeps him grounded preserves his humanity, and he loves her for it. For a long time he had been very somber, and this rejuvenated self was good for their relationship.
Even though David is a vampire, they struggle with the most of the same challenges that other couples deal with coupled with other unique issues. He needs to enjoy the tender moments of the now because the prophesied apocalypse is on the horizon. A dark cloud looms over his hopes for the future.
“Sure.” David laughs a little more as he sees a derelict standing next to a lit up trash can. “Who would want a mansion when you could live in a neighborhood like this?” the vampire asked. “This is definitely something else.”
Fiona is caught up in the humor of the situation, but that changed quickly. As they approach, the headlights of the car reveal more sets of eyes in the darkness. At first glance, it appears as if the derelict is alone in his area, but those other sets of eyes reflecting off of the headlights prove otherwise.
This is the main drag in the Pit where almost all the drugs are bought and sold. It is the equivalent of a McDonald’s drive-thru, only it is for illicit drugs. The vampire and Fiona realize that they are surrounded. The air in the Pit is putrid. The smell of burnt out cars and trash is almost nauseating. It is as if the fresh air itself avoids this place. Every building is littered in graffiti, mostly gang symbols and foolishness.
David pulls up next to the derelict and his burning garbage can, and he drops his driver side window.
“Nice car…and you got a fine bitch with you, man,” the derelict said. The derelict spoke in a stoned Jamaican accent. Most of his teeth are missing, and it gives him the appearance of being mildly retarded. His oily dread locks hang low over his ashy dark skin, and the smell of his ganja overpowers the burning rubble in the metal trashcan.
“I need to speak with you, Rasta-man.”
“Pick your poison, man.” The cruddy Rasta-man smokes his ganja and cackles a winded and haunting laugh. “What do you want?” The derelict asked. “Pick out what will make your tasty bitch act like a freak, man.”
The Rasta-man is the contact point. People looking to purchase drugs tell him what they desire. A lookout on top of a building signals the Rasta-man with a flashlight if the coast is clear. Two other lookouts at each end of the main drag signal the first look out. Rasta-man would then motion a runner with a brief hand gesture indicating what and how much. It looked like a third base coach laying down signs for a hit and run. A runner would then walk the drugs to the buyer’s vehicle and drop off the money for the goods to someone else. It was a good system, cautious and efficient. The dealers ran the Pit better than most legitimate businesses.
“I want Gregory Bates,” The vampire said firmly. David wiggles a crisp twenty out of the window. The derelict’s eyes light up at the sight of the money, and he snaps out of a stupor to conduct business.
“Ganja or crack rock, man?” He asked. The Rasta-man is all business. The dealer wants David in and out. David’s patience is already running thin as well.
“I need Bates, Rasta-man.” David dangles a second twenty to go with the first. Meanwhile, David’s gorgeous Mercedes is starting to draw a crowd of onlookers that seem to be getting closer with each passing moment.
“Maybe we should move on, David,” Fiona said. Fiona is nervous. She is completely out of her element. She isn’t at Macy’s or a Beverly Hills boutique.
“We can’t leave without Bates or information on how to find him.” She is squirming in her seat. Fiona had asked for excitement, and she is getting more than she bargained for.
“What do you figure, Rasta-man?” David re-engages in his conversation with the derelict. “Do you want to make some money or what?” The vampire asked.
The Rasta-man pauses.
“How about you get out of the car, man?” The Rasta-man asked. The Rasta-man had a few ideas of his own. The derelict pulls out a compact Glock handgun and cocks back the slide, putting a live round in the chamber. The pistol is pointed at the vampire. David exits the car slowly, but he instructs Fiona to stay put inside the vehicle.
“You could have made forty bucks for just a few seconds of your time,” the vampire said, “and you wouldn’t have a bullet-hole in your leg.”
David is as calm as could be.
“You are crazy, man…white-boy, you is a fool. You are surrounded my peoples.” He cackles again. David’s eyes burn red, and the derelict is visibly frightened and disturbed by it. The Rasta-man can no longer speak. He cannot move.
The derelict is already doomed.
“Drop the magazine from your weapon and throw it into the rubble,” the vampire said. Without hesitation, the derelict removes the magazine from his gun and tosses it into the dim lit night. David’s red eyes burn bright in the night. “Put the gun to your leg, Rasta-man and squeeze the trigger.”
The Rasta-man follows the vampire’s orders. The derelict fires the remaining round in the chamber through his upper leg. The gunshot echoes deafeningly against the urban backdrop of spray-painted concrete. He falls to the ground screaming, and the slide of the Glock locks back because the pistol is empty.
The crowd scatters except for one man holding a large pistol. His oversized gold necklace glistens in the moonlight.
In retrospect, the vampire should have just charmed the Rasta-man. It would have meant less trouble and attention. This is the life of the vampire. His common sense is constantly being tested. The demon on his shoulder is telling him to create chaos, tempting him to kill. The curse is that same demon being omnipresent, poking and jabbing. He could have gotten the information in under a minute and kept driving. Instead, he has the excuse to kill some minor minions of evil. It makes sense in his twisted mind. He has to justify his maniacal urges.
“Are you out your fuckin’ mind, white-boy?” The gun-toting figure asked. He approaches David aiming the pistol at him. The vampire remains still. “Do you know where you at?” David doesn’t answer him. As the dealer gets close enough, he sees David’s eyes. “What the…”
The drug dealer is totally startled. The Rasta-man on the ground incessantly screams in pain.
Without hesitation, David lunges for the drug dealer and has him in a choke hold. The dealer tries to put the gun to the vampire’s head. David wraps his other hand around the dealer’s gun hand in a blink of an eye. Fiona watches this happen while halfway ducked down to avoid potential gunfire. The hardened criminal is frozen in fear and plays the role of the victim instead of the aggressor.
Before the dealer can get off a shot, David crushes the dealer’s hand along with the gun that he is holding. Every single bone in his hand shatters like a broken window, and the gun crumbles into chunky polymerized pieces. The dealer instantly goes into shock. David lifts him up by the neck with one hand. He carries him to the burning garbage can and holds him just out of the reach of the flames.
“Don’t be a foolish mortal like the Rasta-man,” the vampire said.
“My hand, man…you fucked up
my hand, man.”
The dealer cries in agony as he flails helplessly to avoid the dingy burning fire. David could have easily charmed the dealer, but the curse brings out the worst in him at times. After hundreds of years of existing, David’s patience is minute at best. The dealer is able to knock over the trashcan, but it falls right on top of the squirming Rasta-man. Soon the bullet wound is the least of his problems as his cloths catch on fire. His screams intensify.
“Gregory Bates,” the vampire said, “I want Gregory Bates.” The vampire spoke loudly to overpower the Rasta-man’s screams of agony. David cranks up the pressure on the dealer’s windpipe. The dealer radiates a foul aura of selfishness, evil, and ignorance to David. The dealer attempts to speak, and David loosens his vice-like grip. Gasping for air, he speaks in a half-crying and half-choking whiny voice.
“I know the cat you’re looking for,” he said. He struggles to breathe. “He be staying at the half way house on Westminster Street.”
“That’s all I wanted to know, and you morons had to make it difficult.” David grins hardheartedly and releases him. The Rasta-man rolled around on the ground, and he was able to smother the flames that were climbing up his body. The Jamaican then passed out from pain and rapid blood-loss. David turns to walk away.
David should have charmed him too. It was too late for that.
“Don’t come back here, you stupid mother-fucker,” the dealer said, “or we’ll dead your white ass.”
The dealer threatened the vampire, just moments after being released. David looks down for a brief moment to contemplate. The vampire quickly delivers a crushing backhanded blow against the side of the dealer’s head that instantly fractures his skull. The force of the impact sends the dealer flying a good six feet, landing at his final resting place upon a garbage heap.
The rest of the crowd takes off into the night leaving the two dealers where they lie. David licks the blood off the back of his hand and makes a sour face like he ate a ripe lemon. The dealer’s foul, diseased blood tasted sour to David. He could taste the opiates in his bloodstream, which give him a slight buzz.
He jumps back into the car.
“Honey, I’m home,” he said. He tries to lighten up the moment. Fiona can’t believe what she just saw. She had never gone along with David at night before, and harsh reality kicked in. This was the dark side of David that she had never seen much of.
“This is what you do at night?” She asked.
“Not always exactly like this, but not too far off.” A hyperventilating Fiona struggles to breathe normally. “Baby, calm down,” he said. “I won’t allow you to get hurt.”
“David, I’m not judging you,” Fiona said. She is still in shock. “I need a few moments to process all of this. It’s not every night that your boyfriend smashes someone’s brains out of their head.”
“My duty is to rid the world of filth. They were two men with hearts full of evil and malice.”
“Just give me a minute to shake this off,” she said.
“Alright,” he said.
David turns up the radio and cruises through the Pit, toward the halfway house. Fiona is still shaken from what she just witnessed. Dating a millionaire vampire is a life full of expensive dinners, extravagant gifts, and world culture. Even though she knows that the men probably deserved what they got, Fiona still witnessed a horrific scene comparable to something out of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. She knows that the dealers would have killed or raped her.
Fiona is not a squeamish or prudish person, and she is heavily into Goth, the occult, and horror movies, but raw reality is far different from books and movies. Gunshots in the movies do not echo like thunder even on the best surround sound systems. The sound of cracking bones and the sight of gushing blood does not translate as vividly in the movies as it did in person. No reality show televises people being mangled.
“That was so fucked up,” she said.
“I’m only doing as you have asked of me, my love.” His voice is full of sympathy, and he tries to help his obviously traumatized lover.
“I’ll be alright,” Fiona said. He holds her hand. “My expectations were for excitement, but I didn’t think the night would have been like this.”
“I tried to shield you from all of this, my love. This is the world that I did not want you to walk in for all eternity.”
“I thank you for educating me,” Fiona said. She appreciates David’s persistence in swaying her decision to remain human. “I would not want to be forced to see such things routinely.” The funny thing is that Fiona has not even seen a fraction of what horrors that David has seen over the years.
Tonight’s events were so pathetically tame in comparison to the countless other atrocities burned into David’s mind. The more David thought about tonight, the word atrocity triggered dark memories of World War Two in Europe.
He saw first hand what the Nazi’s did to some of the prisoners in the concentration camps, and those memories alone could drive a human to the brink of insanity. Frail bodies were frozen in the snow, just to test the limits of human endurance for their own soldiers’ benefit. They experimented on the prisoners with starvation, frostbite, fire, and poison. Sick and twisted mad scientists posing as doctors used them like lab rats and came up with creative ways to torture them just to see what would happen. They went far beyond burning ants with a magnifying glass and pulling off a fly’s wings.
David’s love interest during that era was kidnapped by the Nazi’s and brought to one of the death camps near Auschwitz. David refused to have her be raped and tortured because of her Jewish heritage. He infiltrated the camp one night to liberate her, and that is when he saw the true horror that man was capable of perpetuating against his own kind. The presence of true evil was all over that camp, and it even rivaled the intensity of the evil radiated by Regina and Zurelda. This was one of Satan’s finest achievements to date. The Devil was able to influence an entire nation of poverty-stricken people to follow Hitler’s rants by playing on their fears.
That night, David showed them what true evil was. One by one, he stalked each soldier and guard, and he tore them to pieces. Some he dismembered, and some he tore open and let their innards spill out. Other guards were food for the enraged vampire, and their bloodless bodies were blue with stone cold death. David kept piling the bodies in the center of the courtyard as a display. Not one soldier even got off a shot at David because he used the night like a cloak of darkness to conceal himself. Finally, when the seventy-eight guards and soldiers were horrifically killed, he went after the doctors that performed the grizzly experiments on the innocent masses.
There were four doctors and eight assistants, and that night they wished there were not a part of the Third Reich. David took them down naked into the winter courtyard to witness their security force butchered. He made them disembowel the rest of their fallen comrades and hang their intestines on the barbed wire fences that surrounded the complex like Christmas decorations. It looked like Christmas in Hell.
They cried that the brutal cold was hurting their bare feet. Every time one of them cried, David drove a nail into a part of their body of his choice. David forced the doctors to decapitate each soldier and stick their severed heads on pikes. They begged for their lives, just as the captured Jews had, but David was just as merciless as the Germans. He used guns, knives, tools, and his bare hands to inflict torturous wounds on each of them. This went on for hours. The vampire performed his own experiments. He traveled to the darkest part of his psyche to be creative with his torments. They were caught in the spider’s web and could not escape.
By the end of the night, the Germans begged for death as their form of mercy. David did not grant them their request. Instead, David tortured them until they bled to death. He tore out tongues and hacked off fingers and toes until every last one of the Germans was dead. David will never forget that night. That night he went deranged with bloodlust and did things that he is ashamed of to this day. The only actions that
he was proud of were freeing his lover Helen and roughly three hundred prisoners from their evil captures. Those who were healthy enough drove the German’s own transport trucks back to freedom.
Adolf Hitler himself witnessed David’s brutality in the concentration camp when he personally saw the aftermath of a vampire’s wrath. The story of the Falcon’s Landing (translated from German) concentration camp never made the history books. Hitler thought it was the Allied forces that committed those acts of barbarism, and he didn’t want his own troops to see the remains. He feared that his own men would be too afraid of the Allies to fight.
Hitler had the place dismantled and burned to the ground before any further damage to morale could occur, erasing the event from all of history. He even had the clean up crew executed to maintain secrecy. Three weeks later, Hitler took his own life, just before David could get to him. Very few remember this place, except for the grateful survivors who remembered David as the angel of vengeance who brought mercy and justice to their tortured souls. David’s lover died of pneumonia in the spring of 1953, but he remembers her and everything that took place at Falcon’s Landing.
“Are you alright David?” Fiona asked. “Hello…Hello.” Fiona snaps him out of his wandering mindset.
“Sorry, my love,” the vampire said. “Tonight reminded me of something that happened years ago.” David admitted to being preoccupied, and he was thankful that she didn’t probe any further. The vampire didn’t want to elaborate on what he was just thinking about. Falcon’s Landing was best left in his past. “We are almost at the halfway house. I do not want to be too close to it because I fear that Bates may also be under surveillance.”
