by Matt Kincade
Carmen kissed him on the cheek. “I think we found our vampire.”
“What say you and me take a little hike today, sugar?”
Carmen leaned in and nibbled on his ear. She grinned mischievously. “I think there’s something we should take care of first.”
Alex grinned stupidly. “Well, if you say so.”
“I say so.” She stood up and pulled him by the hand.
“I am powerless to resist.” He obediently followed her to the bedroom.
***
Alex took off his hat, wiped the sweat pouring from his brow, and resettled it back on his head. He looked around. The desert spread away in all directions, spotted with cacti and olive-colored shrubs, punctuated by spires of wind carved rock, striped in hues of red and orange and yellow. The only evidence that humans had ever been there was a line of cyclone fence, topped with coils of razor wire, running along the base of a ridge a hundred yards distant. He raised the binoculars hanging around his neck. “I think this might be the place.”
Carmen stepped up to stand next to him. Her hair was tied back with a red bandanna, and sweat beaded her walnut-dark skin. “I hope so,” she said as she looked up at the sun, sinking in the afternoon sky. “I hope we can make it back to the road by dark.”
“We’ll be okay.” They walked the last hundred yards to the fence. There were no signs, no warnings, no gates. Just a well-maintained fence in the middle of the desert. Alex took off his backpack and retrieved a pair of wire clippers. He cut a hole in the chain link fence, and they climbed the hill before keeling down to crawl the last twenty yards to the ridge-top.
Scrub brush gave way to an outcropping of broken shale that shifted under their hands and feet as they peeked above the ridge line. In the valley below them, rows of terraced crops followed the contours of the hills, forming a parabola, the focus of which was a cluster of buildings at the valley floor. Opposite the fields, an ominous black cliff rose, an overhanging wall of jagged volcanic rocks, dwarfing the tiny buildings. Overall the arrangement resembled a giant sundial. Alex rolled onto his side and took off his backpack, from which he pulled out a pair of high-powered binoculars.
“Yeah, this is the place,” he said, as he adjusted the focus knob. The tiny buildings below became large in the viewfinder. He panned the binoculars across, taking in the scene. Dozens of workers labored over the grapevines, while overseers on horseback watched over them.
Alex handed the binoculars over. “Take a look.” While Carmen took in the scene, Alex dug around in his pack and removed a camera with a telephoto lens.
“Jesus,” Carmen said. “It looks like a chain gang. The bosses all have shotguns. They’re running the place like a slave plantation.” The men and women laboring in the fields all had dark-brown skin and black hair.
“That’s what I thought, too.” Alex focused the camera and snapped pictures. “The whole place is fenced in, ’cept for the front gate and that cliff. Guess they figure a fella would have to be plum crazy to try and get over that beast.”
He panned to the large sheds, with their faded paint on sagging wood and rusted tin roofs, where workers went in and out carrying bushels of grapes. He snapped pictures of the garage, a newer-looking prefabricated steel structure, where another worker was changing the oil on a limousine. Farther on stood a Spanish mission-style mansion—complete with stucco walls and terra-cotta roof tiles—surrounded by a ten-foot wall. Attached to the house were rambling gardens and—“I’ll be goddamned,” said Alex. “Look over by that house.”
“I don’t see…Wait, the…what is it?”
“It’s an actual Spanish mission. What’s left of one, anyway.” A chapel and a white stucco bell tower stood, ancient, its belfry empty. A crumbled adobe foundation marked where the building once surrounded a garden courtyard.
Carmen’s eyes grew wide. “How can this be here? How have they gotten away with this for so long?”
“Well, you seen what we had to go through to get up here. For a while there I thought we was gonna need to come back with climbing ropes. And there ain’t much up here—as far as anyone knows—to make it worth the trip. Then they’re right on the edge of restricted airspace from the White Sands Missile Range. Ain’t no wayward planes gonna come in this close. And anybody hikin’ here and findin’ a fence would just assume they’d found military land. On top of that, I imagine a whole heap of money finds its way to the local authorities. Probably more than a few of ’em don’t mind the Don makin’ their illegal immigrant problem go away. Don Carlos has got himself his own little fiefdom.”
Alex held down the shutter button. The camera snicked away, rapid fire. “Yes, sir, this is a hard little target, all right. Ain’t sure we could pull this one off by ourselves. I mean, might be doable. Maybe. Might see what the Hell Hunters is up to this week. ’Course, we’d have to split the loot.”
As they watched, one of the overseers spurred his horse forward. Silently, in the viewfinder window, Alex watched a bullwhip snake out and lick one worker’s back. The man’s shirt split open, and a red gash appeared on his back. Seconds later, the sound of the whip’s crack reached them and echoed off the hillsides.
Alex lowered the binoculars. “But one way or another, we’re takin’ this place down.”
***
“I swear to God.” Carmen looked around the room, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, “Another tacky, moldy, old motel room. This is a weird obsession, Alex. You need help.”
The sign outside said astro motel and featured a neon rocket ship orbiting a neon moon.
Alex playfully nudged her through the door with a hand on the small of her back. “Can’t help it, darlin’. It’s my style.”
She dropped her bag on the floor as she looked around the worn, Spartan room. “Seriously, couldn’t we stay someplace with a little less ‘style’ and a little more room service?”
“Aw, come on now. It’s my thing. Me and my dusty old boots, drivin’ a classic car, pullin’ into a run-down motel in the middle of the desert. I got my aviators on. I got my hat down low. I take in the look of the place, real cool-like…Maybe a couple vultures overhead. Half the neon sign flickerin’…”
Carmen slowly shook her head. “You give this way too much thought.”
“Well, come on now, it just wouldn’t be right, me walkin’ into the lobby of some Holiday Inn, all like, ‘Howdy, what time’s the continental breakfast start?’”
“Ridiculous.” Carmen opened the plastic shopping bag that had been hanging from her wrist and pulled out some votive candles.
When she put them on the table and started lighting them, Alex said, “What are you doin’?”
“Scented candles,” said Carmen. “I can’t deal with the cheap motel smell for one more night.”
“So that’s what you had me stop at the drugstore for?”
“That and some more condoms.” She grinned.
“Well, hot damn.” Alex circled his hands around her waist and nuzzled her neck.
Carmen took his hands and un-encircled herself. “But right this moment I think I need a shower.”
Alex shrugged. “I’m a patient man.”
Ten minutes later, Carmen emerged, wet and steaming, from the shower. Alex had the photos he’d taken earlier loaded on his laptop. He was sketching a map of the compound in a notepad. Carmen came up behind him, wearing only a towel, and leaned down. “I think you could use a shower too.”
“Don’t gotta tell me, darlin’. I feel like I been rode hard and put away wet.” He made his way to the bathroom and shut the door. When he emerged, Carmen was on the bed. She wasn’t wearing much at all.
Alex shook his head. “Well, gol-damn.”
“What was that you said about being rode hard?”
Alex dropped his towel to the floor.
Pretty soon they both needed another shower.
***
Carmen decided to stay in the motel while Alex picked up some Chinese food. She lounged in bed, flippi
ng through the pay-per-view menu to find a good movie. Alex got in the truck as the sun sank below the horizon. He went to Li’s Dragon Palace a few blocks away to pick up pork chow mein and stir-fried rice, with a side order of crab puffs. Then he stopped at the market for a bottle of champagne. On the way back, on a whim, he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.
“Alex,” said the voice on the other line.
“Hey, Cutter. How’s it going?”
“Well, enough, man. Well enough. What’s up?”
“I’m plannin’ a hit near Las Cruces. Looks like it might be a little big for just me and Carmen. You and your boys want to tag along?”
“When?”
“A week? Maybe longer.”
“We’ve got something cooking right now. We should be free in a week.”
“Sure. If not I’ll try the Coffin Crew.”
“Okay, let me know.”
“Will do, good buddy.” He hung up the phone as he pulled into the motel parking lot. He carried the plastic takeout bag around his wrist and held the cold champagne in the crook of his elbow.
When Alex knocked on the door, it swung slowly open. Candles flickered. The TV murmured softly.
Carmen sat on the bed.
Next to her, hand wrapped around her throat, sat Jacob. He grinned to reveal needle-sharp fangs.
Chapter Seventeen
The champagne bottle and the bag of takeout dropped to the floor. Alex’s hand flew to his pistol…and froze. The vampire’s hand tightened around Carmen’s throat. Her eyes were frantic—the blind panic of a trapped animal. Alex glanced to his right. He saw another man with a pistol. Another gun barrel tapped him in the back.
The room was dark, save for the candles on the bedside table, the television screen, and the light in the bathroom.
Alex saw the eyes first. Candlelight danced on two bright points in the darkness. Slowly, a face and a body materialized around them as the Don stepped forward. He moved into the light that poured through the bathroom door and suddenly became visible in bright contrast—half in light, half in shadow. A gaunt, triangular face narrowing to a pointed chin, black hair, combed back hard. White shirt, black slacks. He carried a sheathed sword with an elaborate basket hilt, which he leaned on as if it were a cane.
“Bienvenidos, Alex.” He flashed a silken demon grin. “Come in.”
“You goddamned son of a bitch,” Alex managed. He didn’t see the hand that took his pistol. He was shoved forward, and the door shut behind him.
Don Carlos took another step forward. He examined the well-manicured fingernails of his left hand before focusing on Alex. “So,” he said, “here we are at last, cowboy.” He enunciated each syllable, as if it were two words. Cow-boy.
Alex spared another glance at Carmen. Jacob’s hand still held her throat. Two wet lines ran down her cheeks. She stared at him with imploring eyes. Knives twisted in his gut.
“We live in an age of miracles, no?” The Don gestured toward the camera and the laptop. “I see your technology, your toys. Is it so strange to you that I would have such things as well? Did you think I was too old for such notions? Motion sensors, remote cameras? Remote-controlled drones? Remarkable things. They just fly along, unseen. And they follow you. All. The. Way. Home.”
Alex said nothing.
“This is your woman, no?” He ran a long finger up Carmen’s cheek. She shuddered. “Very pretty, for a morena.” He turned back to focus on Alex. “Do you love her?”
Alex swallowed but didn’t respond.
“You thought you would win, no? You thought the cowboy would ride in to save the day, like in the movies? Would you then ride off into the sunset, cowboy?”
The vampire turned away from Carmen and paced the floor. “This is my land. Mine! Who are you to hunt me? You and your Mexican whore. You are nobody. You are nothing.”
“Son of a bitch,” said Alex.
“Do you want to fight me?” Don Carlos smiled. He leaned his sword in the corner and made a beckoning gesture. “Come then, cowboy. Fight me.”
The arms holding Alex let go. He screamed and launched a wild kick. Don Carlos dodged effortlessly before slamming a flat hand into Alex’s chest. Alex smashed into the wall. His hat came off and fell to the ground. He heaved, trying to get his breath back. Don Carlos took one long step to reach him. He stretched a hand out, wrapped it around Alex’s neck, and lifted. Alex’s cowboy boots dangled off the floor. He jerked and clawed at the vampire’s hands as the air ran out of his lungs. The Don’s fingers were like steel tongs. Spots appeared in Alex’s vision.
“How easy it would be…” said the vampire. He released his grip, and Alex collapsed. “Too easy.” The Don paced the room again before picking up Alex’s sword from the table. “And is this your sword, cowboy? A katana? Are you a cowboy or a samurai?” He laughed. “I could kill you here and now, with your own sword. Ironic, no? But I won’t. Not yet.” He set the sword down. “Because you hurt me.” The vampire tapped his chest, above his heart. “You disrupt my business, yes. You dog my steps. That would be enough for me to kill you, but that is not the reason.”
The Don loomed above Alex, looking down. His eyes were bright slits in the darkened room. “You kill my friends. My blood. Do you know how long Armando served me? Five hundred years. I knew him in life. We stood in the sun together. From the earliest days, he stood by me. He spilled his blood with me. He was my right hand. My brother. And you, only a child, took him from me. How shall I repay you for that?
Don Carlos paused, standing over Alex as he lay sprawled on the floor. The vampire’s eyes were flames in the dark. “I think you know what must happen. Blood for blood.” He gestured to Jacob, who stood and dragged Carmen to her feet. Don Carlos took her by the shoulders.
“No!” Alex screamed. He lunged. Jacob kicked him in the face, and when the vampire hunter fell back, he planted a boot on his chest. He tried with both hands to move Jacob’s foot, but the leg weighed him down like a stone column. “Please,” said Alex. “Take me. Don’t hurt her.”
Don Carlos looked long into Alex’s eyes. “Blood for blood.”
Without another word, Don Carlos turned back to Carmen.
Carmen closed her eyes and grimaced, trying to turn away. Don Carlos held her fast.
He sank his teeth in. Carmen gasped. Blood bubbled from the corners of the Don’s mouth, spilling down her neck, soaking into her white T-shirt.
Alex flailed against the boot that held him to the floor. He heard someone scream and only later realized it was him.
Carmen opened her eyes and peered down at Alex. She was already fading away. Tears brimmed in her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks, mixing with the blood. She reached one hand out, as if she could reach him from across the room. “Alex…”
“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, darlin’. I love you.”
“I love you…” Her eyes rolled up into her head, and then she went limp. Don Carlos raised his head. Blood rimmed his mouth, dribbled down his chin. He threw Carmen onto the bed like a dirty towel.
The vampire dabbed the blood from his mouth with a silk handkerchief. “How do you Americans say?” he snarled. “I think the expression is…‘Do not fuck with me.’ Now we are even. But I know that this won’t end it. In this way we are alike, cowboy.”
Don Carlos picked up the katana and threw it on the floor at Alex’s feet. “You will need this”—he nodded toward Carmen—“to do what must be done. And then, when you think you are ready, you know where to find me.”
Don Carlos walked out the door, his two foot soldiers following him. Jacob stayed behind and looked down at Alex. “Didn’t I say you were going to have a bad night?” He took his boot off Alex’s chest. “Guess I’ll see you around.” He winked, touched the brim of his black hat, and turned on his heel. He gently shut the door as he left.
Alex sat, leaning against the wall, staring at nothing.
Carmen shifted, almost imperceptibly. Alex stood unsteadily and went to her.
Slowly, hesitantly, he began to think and react again. He brushed back her hair, examining the bite. This time, instead of neat punctures, her wound was a jagged furrow. He could see bone. A dying trickle of blood seeped from severed arteries.
He dashed to the truck and returned, seconds later, with his first-aid kit. He slapped QuikClot on the wound and got out an IV bag. Carmen didn’t have enough blood pressure to keep her veins inflated. Alex made four shaky tries before successfully inserting the IV needle. He whispered things to her, meaningless words of comfort. Sweet lies. He combed her hair back with his hand. Held his ear to her lips, listened to the faint rasp of her breath.
Carmen suddenly opened her eyes and grasped his hand with surprising strength. “Alex,” she said, “hold me.”
He sat her up and wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m scared,” she said. “I just…you make me feel safe.” The words drifted away. Her eyelids fluttered and closed. Alex realized his hand was wet. He looked down. A red-yellow mixture of blood and saline seeped from beneath the bandage and ran down her neck.
“Aw, no, Carmen. Stay with me. No, baby. Don’t…”
He felt her heart stop.
Tears blurred his eyes. He started frantic chest compressions. He pushed until his arms gave out. Carmen lay there, immaculate in death, staring at the motel-room ceiling.
The scented candles still burned, perfuming the room with lavender and jasmine.
Alex felt something break inside his chest, sharp and wet. His mind refused to take it in. He lay beside her, holding her hand as it cooled, stroking her long raven hair over and over, while he whispered sweet words she’d never hear.
