by Matt Shaw
Before we continue, I just want to point out that, even though I am writing about time travel, I don’t understand how it works. I am not a scientist. Truth be told, I actually failed science when I was at school despite the best efforts of Dr. Cross and a few other teachers (not that I can remember their names). With that in mind, I have absolutely no idea how the process works (as I explained earlier). I also have absolutely no idea how Victor knew that both he and Van Helsing would shoot back to the exact time and exact year that they needed.
God only knows. Perhaps Victor didn’t know either? Perhaps it was just another case of ‘fluke’. It’s not actually too important and, for the sake of driving the story forward, I would appreciate it if you just went along with it – you know, to save me the embarrassment of looking stupid. Stupider.
* * * * *
CHAPTER TWELVE
HI, MY NAME IS JACK. I KILL PEOPLE.
November 4th
Dear Sheriff,
Apologies for the mounting pile of bodies. I didn’t mean to take things this far. It’s just that… well, I’m enjoying myself now. I have a taste for the killing. I have a taste for the flesh. I have a taste for the blood that runs down my throat and dribbles down the sides of my chin. I love everything about the hunt. I love everything about kill and the feast. You won’t catch me. You can’t catch me. No one can catch me. Yet, you still insist on trying…
Fondest Regards.
ONCE UPON A TIME there was a man called Jack who lived, in a neighbouring town, with his wife Jill (not the Jack and Jill that went up the hill but another Jack and Jill).
Jack and Jill were childhood sweethearts who eventually became husband and wife and, a little time after that, became business partners as they opened their very own Bed and Breakfast establishment which they named ‘Jack & Jill’s’.
For a while business was good. Travellers from across the globe often stayed in Jack and Jill’s bed and breakfast before continuing with their journey across the mountains – much preferring to stay in this quiet little town compared to the town on the other side of the mountains where they had heard stories about monsters ripping people apart.
Soon though, business began to dwindle; not just for Jack and Jill but for the other businesses in the town too as less and less strangers came through. No one could understand it and, within months, businesses began to close down all over the town.
With less money coming in and their debt mounting, Jack and Jill found themselves spending most of their time chasing away debt collectors and arguing about money (such as Jack would always want to buy multi-buy deals in the supermarket whereas Jill said it made more sense to go for the supermarket’s own brand of tinned produce).
Weeks went on by, followed by months and – eventually a stranger showed up at the bed and breakfast looking for a room in this “famous town”. He never checked in. He got as far as the counter and the request for the room and then stopped, for he realised he had come to the wrong town.
Apparently he had wanted the town with the creatures of the night. He wanted the town with the haunted hotels, the spooky streets and the carnivorous creatures. It was then Jack and Jill realised what had happened. It was then Jack and Jill realised that all of their business was going to the neighbouring town – the very town that once pushed business over to them due to the reputation of the town’s tormentors.
Jack didn’t understand what had made the town become popular. Jack left Jill’s side, after saying how he was going to fix things and get their business back on track, and ventured into the neighbouring town to find out what had happened.
What Jack found shocked him. He didn’t find creatures stalking innocent people. He didn’t find the streets filled with blood and people running and screaming for their lives. Instead, he found the streets filled with tourists. He saw handfuls of money changing hands on the many street stalls. He saw ‘no vacancy’ signs, flashing red, in every hotel and bed and breakfast. He saw hundreds, and hundreds, of people; not just travellers but also people who had come to this town just for the sake of seeing the weird and wonderful (and sometimes pant-wettingly scary) sights that it had to offer.
Jack felt sick as he ventured around the town’s small museum that was solely based upon the history of the town and how it came to be the thriving town it is today compared to the ghost-town it once was. Jack felt the sick feeling turn to a deep burning anger as he read how, when the town was struggling to get back on it’s feet, Jeremiah Simpkins invested thousands of his own savings to set the people up in new businesses based around the creatures. More importantly – Jack felt despair as he realised that the town was here to stay and the tourists would just keep coming. Jack knew, ultimately, that not only was his own town doomed – but so was his own business. He knew that he had to do something to save his way of life.
By the time Jack returned to his ailing business, Jill no longer recognised him. Not because he had been away for so long, but because she could see that something within him had changed; a change that she couldn’t put her finger on but knew she didn’t like.
With a voice filled with bitter jealousy and pure venom, Jack explained to his concerned wife what he had witnessed on the other side of the mountains. Jill shuddered as a little ‘fear’ shot down her spine as Jack told her not to worry – as he knew how to put things right for the both of them. He put his arms around Jill to comfort her as he informed her that he wouldn’t let anyone take away their business or home; the tone in his voice – taking away any comfort that his warm embrace offered.
That same night, he packed his bags with various tools from his tool shed, and left to put his plans into bloody action. The next time Jill saw Jack – it was a fleeting visit and, with him, he carried a bag stashed with cash.
* * * * *
“You’re not looking so good,” said The Count, with a smile on his face, as he looked upon Van Helsing – who was standing in the doorway to The Count’s castle, along with Victor.
“Have you bitten him yet?” asked Van Helsing, ignoring The Count’s comment.
“Who?”
“Judge Reiger - have you bitten him yet?”
“Alas, I have bitten no one,” confirmed The Count, “but it appears that someone has been feeding tonight…” He looked at the bite mark on Van Helsing’s neck. “Could it be that the great Van Helsing has been turned?”
Van Helsing stepped into the castle, pushing past The Count, “I don’t have the time for this.”
The Count laughed and turned to Victor, “Are you coming in?”
“Oh. Err. Yes. Yes, please,” said Victor as he too stepped over the threshold.
“I see you brought the scientist back with you but what about his pet?” asked The Count, checking to see if Bob was still coming up the mountain to the castle’s entrance.
“We left him behind. The practicalities of bringing him back and the implications…” Victor went to explain.
“So I can shut the door then? The heat is escaping,” said The Count as he slammed the door shut. “So what did you find?” he asked Van Helsing.
Van Helsing didn’t answer. Part of him wanted to trust The Count but part of him worried that The Count would like a future like that; a future filled with his family members ruling the world. All The Count would need to do, to stop Judge Reiger from killing him (if he hadn’t seen what Judge Reiger was planning and it was an honest kill anyway) was to not turn him into a vampire; kill him when he had the chance during the initial vampire war.
“Come on, I thought we were friends now?” asked The Count.
With no warning Van Helsing let out an ear-piercing scream and grabbed his chest, before dropping to the floor.
Victor rushed to his aid, “Help me move him into the sitting room.” Needless to say, The Count didn’t help move him. Instead, Victor dragged him by himself and rested him on a large, cream coloured settee.
“I can help you, if you want my help that is,” said The Count. “Your body is dy
ing. The pain you just felt then was your heart stopping. I can hear the beating heart of a man a mile away and yet, standing next to you, I hear nothing other than the scientists. Congratulations, you’re part vampire now but I can still help you.”
Victor placed his hand against Van Helsing’s chest. True to The Count’s word – there was no beating heart within. With a look of concern, he turned to The Count, “How can you help him?”
“I can drain him completely. He’ll fall unconscious and then the change will take place. He won’t have to feel everything die inside of him. When he wakes up, the pain will be gone.”
“You want to turn him to a vampire!”
“I want to help him. We both need him to get this crime solved and get things returned to as normal as they once were.”
Victor knew of The Count from when he lived in these times; a monster of the worst kind who moved from town to town, feasting on whom he desired, creating more vampires before moving on. The Count was a monster that he wouldn’t trust under any circumstances. Yet, Victor also knew The Count from the unwritten future; the Monster who spared his life and gave him a job with sick-pay and holiday entitlement. He just didn’t know which monster to believe in.
“You want to help me?” asked Van Helsing as he slowly sat up, adjusting to the feeling of not having a beating heart, “Help me find Jack.”
Victor smiled – grateful that he didn’t have to make the decision as to whether or not to listen to The Count’s offer.
“If that’s your choice,” said The Count, “just be aware that there is more pain to come…”
Van Helsing knew there would be more pain to come and that’s why he wanted to waste no time in finding Jack.
“There’s only one place to start,” said Victor.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE MISSING PIECES
VAN HELSING SAT IN THE LOUNGE of Jack and Jill’s bed and breakfast. The journey there (by one of The Count’s stretched Horse drawn carriages) had taken it out of him and his whole body felt numb with coldness. The hot, burning fire that Jill had lit, flickering away in front of him did nothing to warm his dying body.
“I got you a drink,” said Victor as he came back into the room carrying a hot chocolate. He handed it to Van Helsing, who took it with a shaky hand and started to drink it.
“Where is he?” asked Van Helsing.
“He must be out at the moment. Just wait. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. The lady that checked us in – that’s his wife. Jack loves his wife; he wouldn’t leave her side for long. We’ll give it a few minutes and ask her, if he doesn’t show up.”
“How do you know him?” asked Van Helsing.
“Years ago, I stayed here. Jack and I, we just seemed to bond.”
“So someone you hardly knew – you told him about your inventions? All of them? You know, including the ones that can have big impacts in the future of the world?”
“Well, at the time I didn’t really think of it like that. He used to let me stay here, cheap rent and basically work on my ideas. Occasionally lynch mobs came looking for me and he always hid me. Always. It seemed only fair to share certain information with him. Trust me, it’s nothing something I’ll be doing again in a hurry!”
Victor stood up and crossed the room, to a large grand piano that took up the corner of the room; begging to be played by those that knew how. Fortunately, Victor knew how. He sat at it and started to stroke the keys, “It can be put right,” he said referring to the current situation and not the poor tuning of the piano that had obviously been left to rot since Jack’s business had suffered.
“I’m sure we can put it right, but we need to find Jack and prove to everyone that he is responsible. It will not be easy.” Van Helsing suddenly sat forward and grabbed at his stomach as another wave of pain passed through his internal organs.
Victor didn’t respond to what Van Helsing said. He didn’t even respond to the new wave of pain that his friend found him in. He just stared to the side of the piano.
“What is it?” asked Van Helsing, slightly put out that his pain was going unnoticed.
“You said the music man was the second person to be murdered?”
“That’s right,” replied Van Helsing as he regained his composure once more. “What’s your point?”
“I know what Jack was doing at the music shop?”
“What?”
Victor held up the piano’s tuning fork. A metal instrument with a thin handle which had two metal prongs protruding from it, “I think I know how he is making the marks on the neck look like that of a vampire. All he’d have to do is sharpen the edges and hey-presto.”
Van Helsing hobbled over to Victor who held the two metal arms, of the tuning fork, against the neck of Van Hesling; a near-enough perfect match.
“You said the killings were done in the order of Jeremiah Simpkins, the music shop owner, the owner of the potion shop and Igor. Congratulations, you have motives for all of the killings,” said Victor as he handed the fork to Van Helsing.
Victor was right. Not only did Van Helsing now have the overall motive, for the killer, he had motives for each of the kills that had so far been carried out; Jeremiah Simpkins was murdered for his money, Herr Monika was murdered for the piano tuner, Mrs. Rouble was murdered for one of her potions and, last but not least, Igor was murdered for Victor’s time travelling potion.
The only thing Van Helsing was unsure of was as to whether Jack (if he was the killer and signs were looking promising) really wanted all out war between the vampires and the humans or whether Jack simply wanted people to be too scared to visit any other town in this region other than Jack’s own town.
“All we need now is Jack,” muttered Van Helsing more or less to himself although Victor heard him (and it was a good job he did hear him).
“Not necessarily,” said Victor, “at the moment all we really need to do is convince the normal people that Jack is the one responsible for the killings. If they stop believing a vampire is to blame – they won’t try and go to war. If they don’t go to war, the vampires don’t fight back and kill them all. The future can be changed with or without the arresting of Jack!”
“You want to arrest my Jack?” said a voice from the doorway; the voice of his wife, Jill.
Van Helsing and Victor turned to face Jill, who was coming into the room to inform the two men that their separate rooms were now ready for them.
“Whatever do you want with Jack?” she asked – not daring to take another step into the room.
Victor turned to Van Helsing. This was Van Helsing’s job; to inform a potentially unstable partner of a wanted man that there was nothing to worry about and they just wanted to ask him some questions.
“Because your husband is currently running amok in our town killing people!” blurted out Van Helsing. Time wasn’t on his side, remember that. He had little time to wrap the crime up before his soul was gone for good. He had even less time to play “good sheriff” to a murderer’s wife.
“Is that what he’s doing?” said Jill calmly, “I did wonder where all the money came from. One minute we’re in debt and the next all of our bills are paid and we even have spare money!”
“When did he show up with this money?” asked Van Helsing, flicking a switch inside to go from ‘being in pain’ to ‘full on detective’ mode.
“November 1st. He showed up, bright and early with a black, leather case filled with money. Here – look…” Jill walked from the room briefly before returning with a black, leather case. She threw it towards Van Helsing who caught it just like an English cricket player (in other words, he missed the case and it dropped to the floor). He picked the case up and gave it a quick inspection. There, on a posh, gold lock were the initials ‘JS’.
“So where is he now?” asked Van Helsing, hoping that Jill would just give up her husband. “If you tell me where he is, I can make sure he is taken in peacefully. If he carries on doing what he’s doing and he’s found by a lynch mo
b things will get ugly for him.”
“I don’t know where he is. He gave me the money, along with a list of bills to pay and said he’d be back when he’s finished doing what needs to be done. He said that everything was going to be okay now, kissed me on the cheek and walked back out the door. Is he in a lot of trouble?”
Van Helsing didn’t say anything. He simply pulled himself to his feet and turned to Victor, “We need to gather the townspeople…”
Victor looked at the way Van Helsing moved; it was obvious that his body was struggling with the changing process that it was undertaking, “Perhaps we should rest up tonight and travel in the morning?”
Quick as a flash, Van Helsing turned to Victor with a contorted face and blood red eyes; the familiar look of a vampire, “No!”
