by Logan Keys
Surprise was on our side because the Rangers didn’t expect Andrei to be on our side. With the gunshots flying, it was amazing that none of us were shot, but it was a short-lived and one-sided gun battle, even though the three of us relied mostly on our strength instead of our revolvers.
Within three minutes, all the Rangers had been knocked unconscious. Andrei tied them up, we didn’t want them to interrupt our meal, while Stephen and I took off after our escaping breakfast.
It took only a moment for us to catch them again, they were on foot, after all, and knock them unconscious. Then we heard Andrei call out, “Stephen. Lily.”
His voice sounded odd, had he been hurt?
We left our victims on the ground and rushed back, to find Andrei kneeling over Virginia’s prone body. She’d been shot.
My heart dropped. I could only imagine what Stephen felt.
“Is she … dead?” Stephen managed to whisper.
“No,” said Andrei. “But it is grave. I don’t think she’ll make it.”
—6—
Stephen and I looked at each other, our previous conversation coming to mind. It wasn’t in her best interest to turn her when she was healthy, but now that she was close to death?
I remembered back when we had to turn Stephen.
He had been kidnapped by the Comanches from his family in Texas when he was a young boy. During the influx of settlers, disease had struck the Indian tribes with often devastating results and the Indians had taken to kidnapping white and Mexican children to increase their dwindling population.
We came upon them after he was grown when his Comanche band was attacking a stagecoach on the Butterfield stagecoach route. People were dying, it was a great opportunity to feed. We watched from a distance until the Comanches left and made our way to the disaster, hoping someone had been left alive even if they were only clinging to life. We couldn’t feed on someone dead, the blood had to be still moving.
One of the Comanche warriors had spotted us, had he looked back, had a sixth sense? For whatever reason, they turned and came back while we were feeding.
We stood, prepared to fight, feeling stronger after our meal. But more food was always a good thing.
Instead of attacking, they spoke to us in an unfamiliar garbled language.
“I understand many languages,” Andrei said in English, “but not this one.” Then he repeated it in Spanish and French.
The warrior who had spoken turned to another one and said something. This warrior, younger, with hair lighter than the dark-haired Comanches, came forward and spoke in rough English, as if he hadn’t spoken the language in years.
This warrior was Stephen, then known by the name Red Hawk. He told us that their shaman had predicted people who drank blood to come upon them—that we could help them with their enemies. To welcome them.
And that’s how we became honorary Comanches. We lived with them a few years, it was a free and roaming kind of life, and I could picture us living with them for years to come especially since we were able to feed on their enemies.
Not indefinitely, of course. Already Andrei and I were aware of the increasing influx of settlers from the United States and we knew it wouldn’t be long until the American government stepped in to claim the land.
The Comanche might not have had an understanding of the powerful forces they were about to be up against, but they knew that encroaching settlers were as bad as ants, relentlessly marching forward and destroying everything the Comanche held sacred.
Even so, our years with them were enjoyable until Stephen came down with smallpox. His tribe had been devastated with this disease before, and while they valued him as a fierce warrior, they didn’t hesitate to leave him behind. The safety of the tribe was at stake.
We chose to stay with him to try to nurse him back to health. It was soon apparent it was a lost cause, that he wasn’t going to make it. At that time, during brief moments of cognizance, we told him his options. He could die. Or we could turn him. Of course, that would mean three vampires were traveling together, at least until he became acclimated to becoming a vampire, but we’d grown fond of him, almost like a son. Or a younger brother.
He chose to be turned.
And now, we knew he was facing the same decision with Virginia, this dying girl he loved.
—7—
I knew the moment he made the decision. “Can you carry her out into the trees so the people on the train won’t be able to watch?”
He nodded, and gently lifted her, cradling her in his arms as if she were a newborn. He carried her into the woods.
“We have to make sure they can’t follow until we’re gone.” Turning her would hold us up and increase the likelihood of them catching up with us.
After the first train robbery where we were surprised by men with guns, we made a habit of disarming the passengers of their weapons, too, so it wasn’t like they could do a lot of damage. It was more likely they would be the ones injured or killed, and to prevent that, we had to prevent them from following.
“We can take the Rangers and the train personnel and lock them in the freight car. I can break the lock where they won’t be able to easily open it. That should keep them busy a few hours. Without the Rangers, they can’t chase us, and without the engineer and conductor, they can’t take the train.”
We disarmed the Rangers before we carried them all to the freight car, along with the men who worked on the train. Andrei easily bent the metal bars that closed the car into a knot. It would take them quite a while to get it open. Plenty of time for us to allow Virginia time to recover in the woods, if she pulled through, and time for us to feed.
We picked up our next meal and disappeared into the woods.
Two hours later and it looked as if Virginia was going to pull through. She was awake now, barely conscious, but awake.
“What …? she mumbled.
“Shh, my love. You’re going to be all right.”
The relentless noise of the passengers pounding on the train trying to free the men from the freight car had been steady, the sound we could hear even hiding a distance away in the trees. “We need a place where she can rest a couple of days,” Andrei said. “You two are more familiar with the area. Is there such a place?”
“There is a cabin a bit north of here where another gang of train robbers were hiding out,” I told him.
“I’ll make a travois for her,” said Stephen, and he set about breaking tree limbs off the trees and tying them together with strips of clothing from our latest meal.
Soon, he had it attached to her horse, and we were ready to leave. We travelled slowly, the area was thick with trees, but we didn’t want to risk going through the clearing by the train tracks. By now, someone would have noticed the train was late, and we didn’t want to run into any rescue parties.
Once we found the cabin and got Virginia comfortably settled, I asked Andrei how he came to be with the Rangers.
He told me he’d traveled through a few towns and realized at that rate it would take him forever to us, so he decided if he joined the Rangers, he would most likely hear of anything odd. Because with two vampires in the area, there was eventualy bound to be reports or at least rumors. There always was. He’d began to wonder if he’d made the right choice and was about to turn in his resignation when they got a tip on the train robbers who took passengers off trains, never to be seen again.
They, of course, had heard of the train robbers, but investigations had turned up nothing. Andrei said he had calculated the nearby towns and thought he could find us on his own.
Until Mrs. Broadbent stepped in. Wouldn’t she be delighted to know what all she had accomplished? Reuniting me with my husband and having her daughter turned into a vampire.
I had to laugh to myself. Justice was sweet.
—8—
After a rough few days while her body both recovered from the gunshot wound and made the transition to being a vampire, Virginia accepted the news that she wa
s now considered one of the undead better than I’d expected, given she’d had no choice in the matter. Many people would have preferred death rather than a life as an immortal who must feed on human blood.
But it was obvious she loved Stephen. And he loved her, and I’m sure they would make as happy a life as possible together just as Andrei and I had done.
But this meant, of course, that with a fourth vampire, it was too risky for us to stay together. Having to feed so many would attract more attention even faster.
We were going to split up and go our own way.
Stephen and his love would go to live with the Comanches, and as for my love and I …well, we were off to our next grand adventure, wherever that might lead us.
The End
COME WITH ME
Lee Hayton
The keg tipped too far over and, instead of rolling out toward the bar, started to roll lazily back toward me. Seizing the opportunity to be bad, it headed straight for my vulnerable toes.
“Hey, Phyllis. Would you be able to take an extra shift tonight?” Wally called out.
I turned, jumping in shock and then groaning as the edge of the barrel crushed the side of my foot. Even though I pushed up immediately, so it stabilized back onto its end, the damage was done. A throbbing little toe to add to my sweaty forehead and aching back.
Biting down on a sharp retort, I turned and looked at Wally, the pub manager. Usually calm in the face of all trouble—including the drunken flailing of fists—his voice was strained, and the red apples in his cheeks had spread across his face until he looked like a shiny globe, fit to hang on the Christmas tree.
The extra shift would come in useful for stalling my landlord’s ranting, but Wally also wouldn’t apologize if I changed my arrangements to fit in with his request only to change his mind again.
“Is Thomas still out sick?”
Wally nodded, looking disgusted with the world and his place in it. “Thomas didn’t turn up again this morning, and now Geoff hasn’t turned up. I sent a message boy out to both their houses but apparently they’re so unwell they can’t even answer the damn door.”
I winced at the mild swear, my momma had raised me better, then nodded. “I can move some personal appointments around to help you out.”
The relief that flooded Wally’s face when I answered made me bold.
“I’ll need to ask for double time since it’s such short notice,” I said, turning around so he wouldn’t see the fib in my eyes for what it was. Half a fib. I did need to ask for double time but only because I was struggling to meet this month’s rent. It had nothing to do with the lateness of the request.
Without turning, I knew that Wally was glaring at my back. There was a spot in between my shoulder blades heating up from his laser stare. Well, let him. Discomfort, I could put up with. Being homeless would be a far harder thing to ask.
After he had given an elaborate sigh, I knew I had him. “Sure,” Wally said. “But if I catch you slacking off at any point, I’m docking you. No breaks for smoking, and if you want to go to the bathroom, you can just cross your legs.”
“It’s a deal,” I said, reaching over to tip the keg on its leading edge again. “There must be something going around. This morning at the grocer, Mr. Hollis was missing, and his wife stood in his place.”
“Staff are too weak, these days,” Wally said. “If those two forget who’s paying them for too long, they might wake up to find that nobody does.”
“Oi. I’m staff,” I said with indignation. “I’m here.”
“You’re a woman, and everyone knows that women endure.”
I felt a flush of pride at the statement, then Wally sniffed and ran a grimy finger under his nose to wipe away the dribble from his nostrils. “You sure can’t sort those kegs out, though.”
Yeah. Thanks, Wally. Thanks a lot.
Mindful that Wally would be true to his word if he saw me skiving, I took my break between shifts and sorted out all my bodily needs before heading back in through the door. My boss wouldn’t think twice about removing the godsend of extra pay a few hours after he’d bestowed it upon me.
The pub sat halfway along the promenade in Sumner. During the long days of summer, the doors would be left open to foot traffic. Tables and chairs were laid out in front for families to take a break from strolling the sandy beach. They could sit down while the father had a beer, the mother a shandy, and the kids would be left sharing a lemonade.
When the days shortened and the wind took deep bites from people on the beach, forcing them into retreat, the bar grew dim. The door banged shut after each new entrant. It sealed in the smell of hops and body odor while cigarette smoke mixed with the salty tang of the sea.
In winter, the bar was a place where hope went to die, populated by regulars who had nothing more than a few coins to wipe their memories. It suited me fine.
“We got your company for another eight hours yet, love?” Drunken Mike said from his favorite barstool when I started my next shift. I automatically refilled his glass while agreeing that was the case. Old Mike didn’t get his nickname without putting in the long-haul hours of heavy lifting. His pint arm was built up around the biceps while his chaser arm was scrawny and wasted away to skinny flesh over bone.
“We’ve had a few of the lads call in sick with the latest virus that’s making the rounds,” I said. The bar in front of Drunken Mike desperately needed a wipe down with a wet cloth, but that would be rude while he was seated there. Soon enough he’d make the long walk down the back alley to the ‘men’s room, ’ and I could give his foot of real estate a good scrub.
“Aye, there’s a lot of that going around town at the moment,” Mike agreed. “Doesn’t seem to be striking down the lasses in quite the same way.”
Although I could feel the aching wrench of tiredness wanting to drag me home to bed and sleep, I nodded. “I guess we just keep ourselves in better nick. That’s why your mam always nagged you about eating your veggies.”
And, fair enough, the exhaustion that was my favorite companion right then wasn’t due to any virus setting up a party town in my innards. The years of constantly being on call for the husband and the children only to watch the three of them die had a lot more impact in that regard.
Drunken Mike leaned over to snag some peanuts out of a bowl I’d deliberately tried to keep out of reach. His knuckles brushed against my bosom as he dragged his full paw back over his side of the bar.
To hide a shudder of disgust, I turned around and straightened up the bottles on the high shelf. A good trick that one, with my back to the main room no one in the bar thinks I’m looking. All the while, their reflections are displayed in the glass backing so I can watch them, clear as day.
Not that there were many to watch. The pub was only half full if that. I hoped that Wally would take a good long spell at home before he returned to lend a hand. If he saw how poor the custom was, he might just shut the whole thing down.
“Goodness, love,” I said, turning back to the room as Steven Hickness came staggering into the pub. “Get yourself into a seat, and I’ll come out and serve you.”
Normally, Steven had a clear half foot of height over everyone else who stumbled in here. Today he was bent so far forward that he’d give the dwarf down by lakeside a run for his money. Although his skin was still tan from long hours working down at the wharfs, loading up the ships, it had faded into a nasty shade of gray. His lips were a light shade of purple-blue.
“Are you sure you should be out tonight, love?” I said though Wally would kill me for the suggestion. The poor lad looked so ill that the motherly instinct I normally shoved down so hard it rattled about my feet wanted to dance out in concern.
“Pint of bitter,” he said, ignoring my question. That was odd, the boy had been brought up nice and polite.
I kept my eye on him as I drew his lager and waited for it to settle so I could pump out another few mouthfuls into the glass. If beer was the only thing nourishing the boy
, then at least I could give him his money’s worth.
“Another for me,” Mike said, but I just gave him a quick scowl as I headed back to tend to Steven.
“Here you go, get that down you. Can I get you something to eat as well?”
The question was a stupid one. Apart from the peanuts that Wally added a handful more salt to before he laid them out, no food was ordered on the premises. A chalk menu with a range of sandwiches available for order had long faded into illegibility on the wall.
Steven just flapped a hand at me and downed half a pint in one go. Even that didn’t bring any more color into his ashen cheeks, though a single tear slid down his cheek in protest at the coolness of the beer.
“I can get you another on the house,” I offered, “but then I really think you should go home to bed.”
At the last word, Steven became animated. He raised his arms to ward off unseen demons, his face a rictus of distress. “I don’t want to sleep. I never want to dream again.”
I left him alone after that, too much pushing and help just seems like another burden added onto soul. Still, I kept an eye on him as I sauntered back behind the bar.
“The service has certainly degraded in this place,” Mike said in the midst of leaning over to help himself to a pint straight from the tap. “It’d be good if you could concentrate on the patrons right in front of you.”
I slapped his hand away from the handle and finished up the job for him, hoping that the amount of beer that had slid out from his overly tilted glass wouldn’t come straight out of my wages.
“The man sat right in front of me seems to be doing just fine,” I said, slamming the glass down in front of him. “Steven looks like he’s seen a ghost.”
Drunken Mike surveyed the boy and then looked around at the few other men scattered about the tables. “He don’t look no worse than the rest of them,” he said. After scanning the thin crowd more closely, I found myself in agreement.
If these were the ones who’d managed to come out at night, it offered me grave concerns over the conditions of those who’d been so ill they’d stayed away. Whatever sickness there was roaming the city, it had hit our patrons hard.
