The Journal of Tom Barnett: Vampire Apocalypse Survivor

by Daniel S. Atkinson

  Just on appearance there was nothing out of the ordinary about him. His good looks were not spoiled by horns or a widow’s peak. In fact his long hair was neat and he was cleanly shaven. At a push you could say he was taller and more muscular than the average man and maybe his jaw line was more pronounced. He was lying on his back, arms by his sides. Under his black shirt you could tell his chest was wiry and strong, but it wasn’t moving. There was no breathing required for the undead. I don’t know how long I stood there, but I suddenly recalled how Kelly had transfixed me. Had he mesmerised me briefly? I can’t tell for sure.

  I snapped out of it and crossed to the bay windows. I ducked behind the heavy curtains and examined them. I had been worried I would find a lock but it unlatched easily. The window squeaked loudly as I opened it. I peered under the curtain but the Master had not moved. I pushed open the two bay windows and sucked in the fresh air. Up until then I hadn’t realised how stale the air was inside the house. Stale and devoid of life. I retrieved the rope and brought it back to the base of the bed. I slipped the loop of rope around the vampires ankles and ever so slowly drew it tight. I froze with my hands on the rope. Had he moved? I could have sworn he did, a quick reactionary twitch. Or did I jerk his foot as I tightened the rope. I paused there for long minutes waiting for any kind of reaction. Nothing.

  Finally I moved to the windows, drew back the curtains and stepped back. I swore under my breath. No sunlight reached into the bedroom at all. The bright sunshine stopped just outside the windowsill. It was as if the vampire’s influence kept the light at bay. I had hoped it would reach a few metres into the room giving me a safe area to retreat to in an emergency. No such luck. And I needed all the luck I could get for what I was about to do.

  I stood beside the sleeping monster and took a deep breath. I took the first stake and held it above my head in both trembling hands. I closed my eyes and whispered a heart felt prayer. When I opened them again the vampire was staring at me. My heart leapt into my throat and I brought the stake down as fast as I could. He must be sluggish during the daylight hours because he didn’t move as fast as he did on other occasions.

  But he was fast enough to dodge my plunging stake. I had been aiming for the left side of his chest where his rotten heart resided. Instead the stake sunk deeply into his right pectoral. I felt it grind against bone. Black blood sprayed out of his mouth like an evil oil geyser. It splashed my face and neck. I wiped it off frantically as if I had been covered with acid. The fluid was cold and sticky. The vampire howled and thrashed like a possessed demon, which I guess he was. He struck out at me with a powerful backhand blow. I was lucky that I stood so close. If he had more room to swing, the blow would have knocked my head clean off. Instead I was thrown violently into the wall, leaving a decent outline of my battered body in the plaster wall.

  The Master sat up and plucked the stake out of his chest. It was such as casual act that it reminded me of my Nana removing a rose thorn from her thumb. I watched with horrible fascination as the gaping hole in his chest began to close over. The vampire snapped the stake in half in one hand and leered obscenely at me. The bone white fangs where in stark contrast to the blackish ooze that leaked from his mouth. He stood up and realised his feet were tied together. The vampire looked at me quizzically and laughed, as if to say, ‘What a pathetic attempt.’ At least I think it was a laugh. The tortured vocalisation bubbled out of his throat as if from the depths of hell.

  The Master loomed over me, in complete control. I searched around with my hands for anything to protect myself with. I felt the cold steel of the crucifix and seized on it. In the same motion I threw it at the vampire in desperation. He plucked it out of midair like a Frisbee. Immediately his wicked grin was replaced by a howl of pain. A blinding light emanated from the cross as it became white hot in the vampire’s hand. The Master dropped the holy artefact and cradled his burnt hand. The cross continued to glow for a moment as wisps of smoke trailed of the cooling metal.

  The vampire’s wicked humour was completely erased now as he rose to full height, insane with rage and bloodlust. I remember thinking this is it. My death. Finally after all this terror it will be over. I closed my eyes certain that my last image will be of that creature’s cavernous mouth full of teeth. But it wasn’t to be.

  I snapped my eyes open at the sound of crunching gears and the roar of an engine. The Jeep. Someone must be in the Jeep. The driver was murdering the gearbox from the sound of it. The vampire’s head turned to the window. He must have realised the significance of the rope because he looked down just in time to see the remaining loop go taut around his ankles. He roared at me and crouched to tear off the rope. The driver finally found the first gear and gunned the accelerator.

  The Master was swept off his feet. His head cracked heavily on the floorboards. Before he could even attempt to get up the rope whipped him towards the window and the waiting sunshine. Such was the velocity of the Jeep that the vampire was twisted around violently onto his belly and dragged up and over the windowsill. Then he stopped. Everything stopped: the rope, the Jeep and the vampire.

  I gingerly climbed to my feet and got a better look. The Master was holding on for dear life. He was almost entirely out the window. The rope was strung a metre off the ground, running from the vampire’s leg to the Jeep in the distance. The Jeep’s wheels were spinning on the road pavement, sending up great plumes of dirty black smoke. The Master’s bottom half was suspended horizontally in the air, bathed in sunlight. Blue butane flame was erupting like spot fires all along his legs. He howled in agony. Then the vampire began to claw his way back inside, back into the cool, safe shadows. The Jeep couldn’t handle the strain and its engine quit. This fucking thing was stronger than a 202 horsepower motor engine!

  The vampire managed to get his upper torso back inside the window. The muscles along his forearms rippled and heaved. In the distance the Jeep was dragged backwards, tyres squealing in protest. I rushed back to the bedside table and snatched up the squeeze bottle. Earlier that day I had mixed some minced garlic in with the holy water. I sprayed half the bottle on the vampire’s left hand. The flesh just melted away from its fingers like hot butter. I could see the tendons and nerves snaking around the bone structure. It screamed in pain, the noise splitting my skull open, so I poured the rest of the holy water on the other hand. The noise level increased tenfold. I forced my watering eyes open and saw that ragged clumps of flesh still hung off its skeletal talons. I think I yelled out, “Grow that back you son of a bitch.” But it was hard to hear over my adversary’s wails.

  The clothing on the creature had all but burnt off now and its legs were fully ablaze. But still it held on. Somehow it could still use its hands, despite having no skin or muscle. My triumph turned to terror as it continued to climb inside. I looked about in panic and found the crucifix. I held it before me and approached the fiend. Its eyes grew wide in fear. It unhooked one claw from the sill and used it to fend me off. I attempted to strike it with the cross but the vampire swung a bony claw and sliced open my right forearm. Warm blood ran down into my armpit and I dropped to my knees. The creature’s nostrils flared savouring the odour of my blood and I swear it licked its lips. It cackled hideously. It had raised the deadly claw again to finish me off when the Jeep roared into life once again. Off balance the vampire had to use both hands to hold on, sparing me a crushing blow.

  I staggered to my feet clutching the metal cross like a hammer. Blood covered my entire arm now making the holy weapon hard to grip. But I swear to God that it began to grow hot in my hand. Not a painful heat, more of a comforting warmth. Suddenly it felt so strong in my hand, the pain of my ruined arm all but forgotten. The grip was solid and stable. I swung with all my might. The vampire shouted a long, ‘Noooooo.’ The sharpened point of the crucifix pierced the vampire’s forehead, sinking all the way in. Now the cross was too hot to hold onto. Blinding white light shot out of the wound like a beacon. The vampire clutched reflexively at its head
with both hands. Its grip now broken, the vampire was propelled out into the front yard.

  I stood at the window just metres from the spectacle. My nemesis, the vile thing that had hunted and tormented me ever since I left my home, was thrashing around in incomprehensible agony. Not once did I feel any sympathy for this beast. It wasn’t human. It was an evil killer.

  New flames erupted all over it. Within moments it was a blackened, wizened figure. The flames died out just like they did with the lesser vampires. But the Master was still alive. It thrashed and twitched like a fish out of water. The blistering heat made the air shimmer like you see at a summer barbecue. Great cracks opened up along the burnt flesh. Dazzling blue-white light shone through the openings like bubbling lava. The vampire cried out one last time in renewed pain.

  Then it detonated.

  And I mean detonated. One moment it was there and then it wasn’t. It literally exploded in a shower of ash and bone. The air appeared to expand away from his remains in that same bluish colour. The shockwave struck a Volkswagen Beetle in the driveway first. The little car was flipped onto its side and careened through the fence. Palings were blown apart like matchsticks. It blew out every window in the street. Luckily my window wasn’t shut or I would have been cut to shreds by the glass. Instead I was thrown backwards clear across the room. I slammed into the wall and blacked out.

  When I woke up I was lying in the street. Someone was holding my head in their lap. I flinched initially but they held me tight and stroked my hair. I squinted through my muddled vision. It was a girl. She was the most glorious thing I had ever seen. In the space of one afternoon I had now seen the best and worst this new world has to offer. I passed out again.

  And that’s what happened. I’ve got to rest now, I still feel a bit woozy from the ordeal of yesterday. Zoe is reading over my shoulder, she just laughed at the previous paragraph. I’ll tell you about her tomorrow.

  Part Three: Lets Get Together Before We Get Much Older

  14th January. 15.50pm.

  Let me tell you about my first hours with Zoe, my guardian angel. She had to wake me up eventually. We were still in the road. My arm was throbbing from where the vampire had clawed me. She had tightly bound the wound. Crimson stains permeated the white bandage, but it looked to have stopped bleeding some time ago.

  It was an awkward introduction. She pulled me to my feet and threw my arm around her shoulder to help me walk. I croaked out a hello. She said, ‘No time for formalities at the moment.’ She glanced at the darkening sky, ‘It will be dark soon.’ We struggled across the street past my Jeep. One of the back tyres had burst from the strain. The rim had gouged great rivets in the bitumen. I doubted I could get it running again. But there were plenty of other cars to choose from. Still it was sad to see it’s demise, we’d been through a few adventures together.

  Zoe led me off the street and into the house opposite the Master’s. It was a two-storey brick home with a peaked roofline. She unlocked the front door with a key. She led me into the lounge and helped me lay down on the couch. I watched her as she secured the house for the coming night. First she locked and dead bolted the front door then dragged a chair and wedged it under the handle. She checked the locks on the windows and drew the curtains. She left me alone then but I could hear her checking the backdoor and other windows.

  I must have fallen asleep again because she gently shook me. I peered up at her face glowing softly in the candlelight. This was the first real chance I had to examine her. She has a short black bob hairstyle, which matched her thick black-framed glasses. She has large brown eyes and an olive complexion. I was particularly drawn to a smattering of grey/brown freckles across her nose and cheeks.

  She gave me a smile and said, ‘Come on fearless vampire killer. You can’t sleep here.’ She guided me up the stairs to a landing on the second floor. An extendable ladder led up into the attic. I groaned at the prospect of climbing in my condition. Zoe nudged me in the ribs and teased, ‘Come on. You can tackle a real life vampire, but you can’t climb a ladder? Get moving.’ I painfully did as I was told. I was so exhausted that I hardly registered she had both hands on my butt pushing me up the steep ladder.

  The attic was shaped like an inverted ‘V’. There was room enough for me to stand in the apex of the roof, but it sloped sharply down on either side. Zoe had set up a little refuge here. Dozens of candles littered the floor. Their melted wax securing them to the floor. A laptop sat open on a cardboard box. Yet another candle had melted into the keys. I thought vaguely that I should tell her that I could charge the laptop, that it’s not just a useless piece of plastic. I sat down heavily on a beanbag. Zoe looked at me with genuine concern and said she would be back shortly.

  Later Zoe climbed back into the attic, her arms full of supplies. She dumped them on the floor and drew the ladder up and closed the trapdoor. She then shifted a heavy chest across the only entrance to the attic and sat on it. She spoke to me in a semi-serious tone, ‘I know you are exhausted, but we have to clean those cuts. This here is Bactine. It’s from the US. It’s great stuff. It has anti-bacterial agents. Who knows what diseases those things carry. Bactine also contains lignocaine. It will numb the pain a bit.” She proceeded to remove the bandage. I winced as the bandage pulled away some of the dried blood. ‘You wuss,’ she gave me that smile again, ‘It doesn’t look too bad.’ She cleaned it up with some cold water and then liberally applied the Bactine. It stung slightly. She gently wound a new bandage over my arm and gave me some water to drink.

  I was very tired at this stage and tried to thank her, but my voice sounded like a drunken crow. She understood though and replied, ‘you're welcome. But I should thank you for killing that monster. He has been haunting me for days now.’ I wanted to learn more but sleep was washing over me like a tidal wave. She pulled a blanket over me, patted my hair affectionately and smiled. It was that smile that filled my mind as I collapsed into an exhausted sleep. Her mouth sort of made this crooked smirk with one raised eyebrow. It was very cute.

  15th January. 14.29pm.

  We have decided to stay here again tonight. Zoe is reluctant to leave the safety of her attic. I don’t blame her but I know a church will be a much safer option. I’m happy to give her all the time she needs. This is all assuming she wants to come with me. Personally I think it’s a no brainier, we should stick together.

  The awkwardness of our first meeting has all but gone now. We’ve spent most of the morning hanging out in her kitchen, eating and chatting. I can’t believe how hungry I was when I woke up. Zoe has been stockpiling canned goods from the local supermarket, so I pigged out on baked beans and peaches. We’ve been sort of trading information, I tell her something and she counters it. Her full name is Zoe Saddington. She’s 22 years old, five years older than me. She went to Kingswood College over in Box Hill. Before the whole country went to shit she was at Melbourne University studying some kind of arts course.

  I like the way she dresses too. She told me that a big advantage of being one of the last people left alive is that she doesn’t have to worry about what people think of her fashion sense. And a peculiar fashion sense it is too. At the moment she is sipping a diet coke and staring out the window. I’ll start from the feet and work my way up. Hopefully she doesn’t catch me examining her and think I’m a perve. She has a pair of high top Chuck Taylor sneakers, purple leggings or tights with a black skirt over the top. Finally she has a black puffy vest jacket over a red long sleeve top.

  I have been stealing glances at her all morning. I can’t help myself. It could be because I haven’t seen a normal person for so long but I don’t think so. There is something very striking about her that I couldn’t put my finger on. Then it hit me like a slap to the face. She would be incredibly beautiful if she didn’t dress that way. I mean she was already very cute, but if you took off those glasses and replaced the kooky clothes with some trendy you could easily imagine her as one of the 'too cool' stuck up elite. Well maybe I’m be
ing a little overzealous, but hopefully you get my drift. In spite of all that, I much prefer her the way she is. None of that glamorous stuff would suit her, it just isn’t in her nature or personality.

  15th January. 19.45pm.

  Oh no. I got busted. Big time. She wanted to see what I was writing. At first I was extremely reluctant. Then I thought if I want us to trust each other, we shouldn’t keep any secrets. Not that I can force her to keep her end of the bargain. But I can try to set an example.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been so red faced in my life. Zoe said my face slowly turned deeper and deeper shades of crimson as she read. Of course she had to read that last entry first. I feel like such a child, spouting all that garbage. But still, I stand by it. When she was done, she handed me back the laptop with a straight face. I looked down, ashamed and then thought: fuck it I’ll stand up for what I wrote. So I returned her stone walled gaze. Then that little crooked smile appeared and she burst out laughing. But it wasn’t a mean laugh so I joined in. She calmed down eventually and wiped a tear from her eye. She patted me on the shoulder and said, ‘You’re very sweet.’ Great, I thought, she thinks of me as a little kid with a crush. Sure I liked her but I was positive that I had given her the wrong impression. But she never made fun of me so I didn’t mind too much.

  Zoe said she would like to read the rest of it. I said that was fine by me and asked her if I could continue writing about what we were doing. She didn’t have a problem with that but didn’t want to discuss any future plans or arrangements. She probably still didn’t trust me one hundred percent, which is very wise considering the other so-called humans I had met so far. I told her as much and it seemed to lessen her anxiety some.

  After being in her company for a whole day now I can honestly say I trust her completely. It may be naïve of me to say so, but I don’t care. I can’t fathom going back to that solitary lifestyle again, surrounded by fear and loneliness. I just pray she doesn’t ask me to leave.