The Journal of Tom Barnett: Vampire Apocalypse Survivor

by Daniel S. Atkinson

  Mr. Robinson diverted me from that deplorable sight. “One more night Tom, I promise. Then tomorrow you can come on over here. OK?? I nodded weakly. He gave me a reassuring smile. At the base of the lane leading up to his front door a vampire appeared from the encroaching gloom. Its clothes were ragged and dirty. Its left arm was missing. The smooth rounded stump waggled obscenely as it rushed towards Mr. Robinson. I yelled a warning. Mr. Robinson acknowledged with a thumbs up and calmly retreated inside. I heard him draw the deadbolt. The thwarted vampire looked mournfully at the door and moaned.

  I feel devastated. I closed the window, drew the blinds and threw myself on the bed. I have this empty feeling, almost as if there is a bottomless pit in my chest.

  12th December. 12:19am.

  I roused myself about an hour ago. The Robinson’s house is ablaze with light. This was very odd. Usually there would be only one candle or complete darkness at this time of night. Every so often I can see Mr. Robinson peering out from a window. He seems to be searching for something.

  12th December. 01:23am.

  I have seen him. That Dark Man. I think that he is the one Mr. Robinson is searching for. I spotted him standing under a tree across the road. He was just leaning there watching the Robinson house, as casual as The Fonz leaning against the jukebox in that old TV show. I immediately crouched down afraid he would see me too. I know he can’t get in here but he scares the shit out of me. Anyone who can stand out there unafraid of those monsters has to be one bad son of a bitch.

  I worked up the courage to peek out from the corner of my curtains. I glanced over to see if my neighbours had spotted him as well but Mr. Robinson was nowhere to be seen. I looked back to the tree but the Dark Man was gone.

  12th December. 02:25am.

  That Dark Man is some kind of vampire. He has to be. He showed up again about ten minutes ago. He strode confidently to the little lane leading up to the Robinson’s front door. All the ghouls around him shrank away from his presence. It reminded me of something I saw a few weeks ago. There was this poor little Chihuahua getting whacked by its owner, a fat lady with too much makeup on. It would cower and cringe whenever she got too close to it. Poor puppy. Well these vamps do the same thing when the Dark Man walks amongst them. They are scared of him too. It’s surreal to watch. In turn this newcomer acts as if they don’t even exist. Only once did I see him react to one of them. This particular vamp had her back to him. He didn’t bother to wait for her, he simply swept his arm sideways to move her out of the way. It may have been a casual gesture but the results were devastating. The lady vamp was thrown a clear five metres through the air. She was a tangle of arms and legs as her body crashed through the Robinson’s side fence. The Dark Man didn’t even look to see the results of his brutal attack. I never thought anything would be more dangerous than those bloodsuckers but here it was standing right outside my home.

  I can get a good look at him now he’s in the light. The Dark Man is an apt description. He was shoulder length black hair, a skin-tight long sleeve black shirt and black pants. He’s also wearing these huge black boots like the kind a construction worker would wear. The overwhelming sense you get from him is of restrained power, like a tightly coiled spring. You can tell he’s very strong, I can see the outline of his muscles even this far away. He’s standing about where Mr. Robinson was standing before dusk. Mr. Robinson is about my height, just under six feet. This guy is head and shoulders taller. He’s fucking massive. He keeps glancing at the windows of the house and that is when I saw it. His eyes have that same sickly yellow tinge. He’s a vampire. But not at all like the others.

  Right now he is standing at the Robinson’s front door. Waiting patiently. No wait. He’s knocking on their door. What the hell?

  12th December. 07:33am.

  The Robinson’s are dead. Slaughtered like cattle. He did it. That super-powered, supernatural creature.

  I can’t believe it. Can’t talk about it. Not now.

  12th December. 09:49am.

  I think I can write about it now. I hope it will bring some kind of understanding of how to deal with this shit. All these horrific things keep happening. It’s overwhelming. Like an avalanche of darkness covering me, weighing me down, smothering and stifling me. It would be better if only I had someone to talk to, share the burden with. But it’s just me here, all alone. I don’t have anyone, just this hunk of metal, plastic and circuits. I just hope writing about it will help.

  Let me take a quick break before detailing the events of this morning. Just thinking back now it is still confusing. I keep having flashes of imagery, like a jumble of shocking photographs popping in and out of my consciousness. I might jot down on paper the different things that stand out and try to put them in some kind of order. I have to put it all together jigsaw puzzle style. Only this jigsaw puzzle was created by Satan himself.

  12th December. 12:33pm.

  OK. Here goes.

  The last thing I wrote before things spiralled into chaos was that Dark Man knocking on the Robinson’s door. My jaw dropped open when I witnessed this act. I couldn’t believe that one of those vampire things would perform such an everyday act. It was so casual and unassuming that I could have been mistaking that monster for a door-to-door salesman. It was a surreal sight, this thing waiting patiently at the front door, arms folded, while the circling ghouls weaved around the front garden.

  The Dark Man must have knocked on that door eight times before he got any visible response. While he was waiting he would swing his yellow lamp light eyes around in a wide arc. It reminded me of a lighthouse slowly rotating its beacon in the swirling darkness. His gaze swept over my upstairs bedroom at one stage. I quickly ducked down beneath the windowsill. My heart was beating wildly, my breath coming in ragged spurts. I didn’t know whether he had seen me or not. I was peeking through a tiny gap in the curtains and my room was pitch black inside. But I didn’t know how well he could see. Maybe those yellow eyes were as keen as a hawk, maybe they could see in infrared? Maybe he could see the blood pulsing behind my eyeballs as I peered through the curtain slit? Like in that movie Predator.

  I grew very frightened. I had a sudden fear that I had disturbed the curtains in my panic. But they were still, as if no one had touched them for centuries. I was paranoid about being spotted, but I still couldn’t resist watching the scene below.

  Mr. Robinson eventually opened the door. I could tell he had the chain engaged on the door because it only opened a crack. Mr. Robinson’s face appeared and they appeared to have a conversation. I can’t even begin to imagine what they were talking about, I wish to God I could have listened in. Maybe the vampire was trying to sweet talk them out of the house. It was obvious he was unable to get in of his own volition. A dude that size could have easily wrenched the door open, even if it had one of those flimsy chains. Mr. Robinson was right. They can’t get in unless invited.

  Mr. Robinson slammed the door shut, I felt a thrill shoot through me, we weren’t completely at the mercy of these creatures. It is not a hopeless cause after all. I thought to myself once this night is over I’m going to pack my things and join my neighbours. Mr. Robinson obviously knows how to deal with these freaks. He’ll keep us safe.

  After the door was slammed in his face the Dark Man turned around and walked back down the path. His expression was calm and kind. This surprised me a little. It must have been the seductive face he puts on to entice his victims. For a brief moment I was sucked in by that countenance. That face spoke volumes to me, it looked so trustworthy. It made you wants to take his hand and follow him to safety. Then his face changed. The features seemed to melt, ripple and reform. The face became a mask of hatred and brutality. The Dark Man balled his massive hands into fists that resembled living sledgehammers. He turned his head to the night sky and roared in fury and frustration. The veins in his neck stood out like steel cables.

  The Dark Man flew into a rage. He stalked around the Robinson’s front yard taking his fury out on
the milling ghouls. I watched, horribly fascinated at his shocking speed and strength. The first vamp he struck literally disintegrated underneath one of those massive fists. He lifted another one-handed by the neck and crushed its windpipe like a paper cup. Yet another was decapitated by a backhand blow, the ragged stump spouting black blood like a geyser. The lesser vampires began to flee but he was too fast for them, his movements a black blur. Soon the yard was littered with corpses. I noticed that they were all twitching, still alive, and beginning to regenerate. All except the one who had lost its head, that one was as dead as a doornail. The Master Vampire caught the last standing ghoul and lifted it above his head, juts like you see in that crappy American wrestling. Then he threw it. The body sailed through the air and splattered against the Robinson’s house, the source of the Master’s rage. An ugly black smear dripped gore down the brickwork.

  This brutal act seemed to spur the Master into renewed vigour. He flung more of the prone bodies at the house. He picked them up by the legs and swung them with increasing force. Soon the house looked as if an oversized paintball gun had been firing red-black pigment at it. The Robinson’s must have been terrified in there, hunkered down, weathering the storm. The Dark Man had run out of ammunition. He gazed around, his fury unabated, chest heaving more with rage than exhaustion. That’s when he locked his eyes onto Mr. Robinson’s pride and joy, his brand new Mini.

  Mr. Robinson loved that car. He had told Dad that he had never once in his life owned a brand new car. This baby was his first and he had worked damn hard to earn it. I don’t think a weekend had gone by without him out there washing or polishing it in the driveway. The vampire leered obscenely at the car now though, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. You could almost see the idea forming in his fevered brain. He strode to the car and sized it up. What happened next I can hardly believe. But it did happen.

  The vampire sunk his claws into the car like it was made of tinfoil. The sound of tearing metal set my teeth on edge. Mum and I had been in a minor crash once and that sound of crunching metal had always stuck with me, somehow it was more disturbing than the crash itself. I mean metal is not supposed to be that vulnerable, it’s meant to keep us safe. The Master was making short work of it now though. Once he had a firm grip he dragged the car from the driveway onto the lawn, the rubber of the tyres squealing in protest. Once he had the mini in position, he lifted one side up and got his hand underneath. Then with great effort he lifted the entire fucking car above his head! He had to juggle it slightly to get it balanced just right. I couldn’t believe it, my mouth hung open at the sight.

  The vampire sized up the house and then threw the car in one fluid motion. If it wasn’t such a despicable act I might have been impressed. The Mini soared as if in slow motion, the moonlight glinting off its windshield. The front end of the car crashed through the Robinson’s lounge room window sending up a great plume of dust and glass. The back end of the car tilted crazily until it came to rest hanging halfway out of the window. The vampire roared in triumph and rushed to the car, his body moving so quickly I had trouble following him. He collided with the vehicle shoulder first, just like a good old-fashioned footy hip and shoulder. The car was shoved violently into the Robinson’s lounge room, the cacophony of destruction hurting my ears.

  As the noise died down I could hear screaming coming from within the cavernous opening in my neighbours house. Lights were flickering on and off in there. Once the swirling dust had cleared I saw the slumped form of Mr. Robinson. He was cradling the lifeless form of his daughter in his arms. Everything became so clear and focused in that moment of indefinable tragedy. I could see two clear tracks on Mr. Robinson’s face where his tears had cut through the dust and grime.

  I’ve got to take a break now. That image of the little girl is too much to bear.

  12th December. 12:14pm.

  Okay, let me continue. Anything is preferable to looking at that ruined home next door.

  The Dark Man began stalking back and forth in front of the Robinson’s ruined lounge room window. He must have been taunting poor Mr. Robinson. I could see the fiend’s jaw flapping as he walked. Mr. Robinson didn’t respond for the longest time, he just held his beloved daughter and rocked silently back and forth. But this didn’t last forever, Mr. Robinson finally responded. It happened right after the Dark Man had let out an evil cackling laugh. This must have been too much for the bereaving father. He gently laid down his daughter and kissed her forehead. He stood there defiant over her body, pointed at the vampire and said something. The vampire just laughed again, howling in disturbed delight. It was Mr. Robinson’s turn to grow angry. His face became red and furious. He stormed towards the front door purposefully. The vampire rushed to meet him there, no doubt licking his lips in anticipation.

  Mr. Robinson threw the door wide open. The vampire drew itself up to full height almost blocking my view. My breath fogged up the window. I found I was breathing so hard. I rubbed the window frantically with my sleeve to clear the condensation. When I had cleared my view I noticed the vampires head was cocked slightly in my direction. It had hardly registered at the time but now I think about it during the cold hard light of day, it definitely happened.

  The two figures below were still at a standoff. The vampire would reach out tentatively towards his intended victim then draw his hand back sharply as if it had been burnt. It soon gave up these attempts and resorted to taunting. Mr. Robinson starting yelling at the creature, his face a twisted mask of shame, fear and rage. I could tell something had snapped in his mind, I guess that happens when you lose a loved one right in front of your eyes. Especially as a result of a fiend from hell pitching an automobile through your front window.

  The vampire seemed to revel in his prey’s anguish, throwing his head back in laughter. It was while the vampire wasn’t watching that Mr. Robinson drew out a large wooden crucifix he had behind his back. Mr. Robinson thrust the cross out at arms length. My heart sank because now his arm was outside the relative protection of the doorway. The vampire reeled at the sight of the crucifix, covering his eyes with one arm while lashing out with the other. I don’t think the vampire had any intention of maiming with that wild reactionary swing. It was more a case of ‘get away from me.’ Unfortunately for Mr. Robinson the result was deadly.

  The vampire’s claw connected with Mr. Robinson’s outstretched arm. A fine spray of blood decorated my neighbour’s white shirt. He gazed dumbly as his detached hand fell onto the doorstep still clutching the crucifix. His arm was severed neatly through the middle of his forearm. A torrent of blood began to flow from the stump. I literally saw Mr. Robinson’s face turn from a healthy pink to a deathly bone white as the life drained out of his right arm. He fell face forwards, leaving the safety of his family home. The vampire kicked the severed arm holding the crucifix into the yard. The lesser vampires, having recovered from their superior’s attack, began to fight over the still warm appendage. I felt my gorge rise as they scrambled in the dirt like starving dogs scrapping over a bone, their white fangs hissing at each other. The Dark Man lifted Mr. Robinson’s body in the air as if he was a child’s doll. He grabbed the still bleeding stump, clamped his mouth around it and began to suck. I turned away from the horrific sight. My head swooned and my stomach churned. I vomited all over my shoes and collapsed shaking. I had never felt so ill in my life. It just sickened me to my very core. No one should ever have to witness such a despicable act.

  I lay against the wall. I couldn’t even think straight. My brain was shutting down rather than deal with the ruin and devastation below. I was snapped rudely out of my condition by a monstrous crashing sound. It sounded as if a 747 had landed on the roof. Then everything went very still and quiet. I held my breath, not daring to imagine, but a growing sense of realisation was dawning on me. Then my worst fears were confirmed. HE began tapping on my window. In my minds eye I saw him crouched on the tiles outside my window, Mr. Robinson’s blood staining his lips, one crimson stained ta
lon scratching against the glass.

  I started to weep uncontrollably. I’m not sure why, it just happened. He kept up the scratching / tapping sound. I lay there unable to move. He began to speak to me then. Very softly at first, but growing more urgent and persuasive as he continued. “I know you are I there, my little chickadee. I saw you watching me. You like to watch, don’t you? Why don’t you open the curtains? I know you want to. You don’t have to come outside. Not yet anyway.” He chuckled to himself. I could hear the blood gurgling slightly in his throat. I dry heaved again. He kept talking for a while then stopped abruptly. I heard a loud hissing noise, the frustration in his voice clearly evident. I heard him scramble over the tiles and leap off the roof. His boots made a dull, solid thump in the earth of my front yard.

  I was reasonably convinced he was gone so I groggily rose to my feet to see why he had left in such a hurry. I flung the curtains wide open. I don’t have to hide anymore, the bastard knows I’m in here. Brilliant, warm sunshine was peeking tentatively over the rooftops. That was what drove him away. Like the other monsters he is either afraid of the light or could be hurt by it. That knowledge gave me no comfort.

  I stood there for at least an hour, in full view of the dead world outside, watching the sun drive away the terrible shadows.

  12th December. 16:29pm.

  There is only four hours of daylight left. He knows where I am. I am so fucked.

  Part Two: Teenage Wasteland

  12th December. 14.26pm.

  I’m sitting on the little path that leads up to our front door. I have my back to the Robinson’s house. I can’t bear to look in that direction. The nightmare of last night is too much to bare. The concrete is cold and harsh underneath my butt. I’ve been twirling the grass fronds around my fingers for the past hour. The grass is overgrown, nearly twenty centimetres high now. Dad used to take such pride in his little Honda lawnmower. It didn’t matter that our lawn was the size of a postage stamp. He was out there every second week mowing away, headphones on listening to the footy or the cricket.