The conversation went on for an hour before Promise began to truly relax, the last of the day’s adrenalin flushing from her system. As the room warmed with their combined body heat, her eyes began to get heavy, and she felt the need to sleep enveloping her like a comfortably heavy blanket. She nodded once, then twice.
“Listen, guys,” Promise said with a wan smile, “I’m falling asleep. I’m going to–”
A low moan, ghostly with distance, came from outside, and they all turned toward the windows. The hair rose on Promise’s neck, and her stomach slicked into a knot. She stared raptly, her eyes wide but fixed on nothing. Her jaw clenched and unclenched.
Mark laid his hand over hers. “It’s not him,” he said, his voice quiet.
She blinked at him as though coming awake. She threw a quick glance at the window and then turned back to Mark, nodding. Her face was solemn, but her eyes swam with grief and anger. He squeezed her arm, and she nodded again. The three of them huddled around the lantern, but the fun–what little there was–had gone out of the night. Mark doused the lantern, and they each retreated to their separate cots.
Promise, wide awake again, lay staring into the dark and wondering if there was ever going to be an end to sorrow. She shivered and, like a child, wished for her mother, but she refused to let fresh tears fall.
Across from the high school, beyond the football field, fiery eyes seemed to blink to life one by one amongst the trees. The vampires prepared to descend on the innocent and unwary.
Chapter 4
Six safe houses had been set up in Willow’s End, and by agreement, none of the houses had belonged to any of the survivors. Promise had at first railed against this notion, feeling a deep homesickness, but now, struggling Ash through the back door of a house similar to the style her own had been, she was glad. She didn’t want to see her mom’s kitchen table or the sampler she’d stitched and that her dad had framed for a joke because it was so ugly. Promise glanced into the kitchen and was comforted because, even though the general layout was the same, she could not picture her family here. With the exception of room placement, this house was completely unknown to her. It was a relief.
Promise, Lea and Mark had spent the day working on the safe houses, checking provisions and making sure everything was closed up tight in each. This was the last one to check, and it was also where they would spend the night before returning to the outpost in Wereburg tomorrow.
Promise stripped Ash of his saddle and bridle and pulled dry rags from the saddlebags. As Mark checked the doors and windows and Lea surveyed the food stock, she began to wipe the grime and sweat from Ash’s legs and body.
“We have beans, naturally, and soup and raviolis,” Lea said, loud enough that Mark could hear, too. He was upstairs now. It was second nature to check that the attic and closet doors were still nailed shut. And reinforced with crisscrossed boards. And nailed some more.
“Whatever. I don’t care,” he called down. “Whatever you guys want is fine with me.”
“Raviolis, then,” Lea said and chose a pot from several lined up on the table. All the cupboard doors had also been nailed shut, and the tall pantry door had been covered with a sheet of plywood. No nooks or crannies could be left in a safe house, no matter how small. Many vampires were children that could have hid neatly under the sink without difficulty. “I don’t want to give beans to a boy who’s sleeping in the same house as me.” Lea giggled and put a hand over her mouth, glancing at Promise.
Promise grinned and shook her head. “Lea, you’re a goof,” she said, running a rag over Ash’s legs. The horse sighed, blowing a great gust from his nostrils, and Promise ran a hand over his warm side. “Feels good, huh, Ash? You’re a lucky horse, getting massages all the time. Lying around in houses.”
Many animals had died during the plague. Vampires wouldn’t go after them, it seemed that they were unable to drink the blood. But many animals had died from neglect, exposure, or been caught in the crossfire during some of the early battles. Many had simply run away during the panic of vampire assaults. Occasionally, a vampire would injure or even kill an animal in the confusion of a chase.
Promise ran her hand over the twisted scar on Ash’s chest, and his skin twitched in reaction. He huffed and snorted. He’d had his own run-in and survived, with Promise’s help.
He had appeared one morning last summer at the high school as she was out gathering eggs from the protected coop. A trailer that had been an adjunct classroom–used for summer school two years ago while the main building had been painted–was now filled with chickens.
Ash had hobbled up, his chest streaked with blood, nickering softly, almost as though he were asking politely for help. And he’d turned out to be very well mannered; very even-tempered. He was a big, black horse with a black mane, not a dot of white on him anywhere. His legs were filthy, and when Promise got close enough, she saw bits of flesh and gore on his hooves. It seemed that he’d meted out some punishment of his own for how he’d been treated.
She’d called him Ash from the start, and he’d adapted to his new name without difficulty. No one recognized him, but he was fairly thin…he could have been running for a while. With Mr. West’s help, she’d cleaned out the bite and then taken over care of the big animal. During down days, she’d searched nearby properties for gear that would fit him once he’d healed up. It was one of the good things about the semi-urban, semi-suburban, semi-rural aspect of Wereburg–you could find virtually anything you needed within a couple hours’ walk.
Having never ridden before, she’d at first struggled with the straps and buckles, getting placement and tightness figured out as she went along. Ash taught her to ride as much as she taught herself, and she’d come to feel a very empowering symbiosis with him as they rode as one across fields, through yards, and lately, during forays into the woods.
No human could hope to outrun a vampire. Ash had a better chance, although as she’d seen yesterday, even Ash could not keep ahead forever. It had frightened her badly. She hadn’t realized just how fast the vampires were.
“The propane feels light. We’ll have to remember to bring a new tank back here tomorrow.” Lea turned a knob on the stove and held a match to the burner. Then she dumped the raviolis into a pot, put it on the stove, and then resumed her survey of the food stocks.
Everyone helped maintain the safe houses. It was to everyone’s benefit to do so. Propane, canned goods, water, and stakes were kept well stocked, and of course, the structures themselves were checked periodically for infestations.
Mark clomped back down the stairs and dropped the stake he carried back into the pile on a long, shallow table in the hall. “Everything looks good. No holes, anyway. Some dum-dum left a bag of chips up there, though.” He tossed the chips across to Lea and then sat down at the round table between kitchen and family room.
Lea shook her head and slotted the chips back into a neat row of them on the countertop. Carelessness with food was a big no-no, but sometimes people just forgot. The older people forgot more often, it seemed, because rationing wasn’t as wired into them as it was the younger ones.
Lea shivered and pulled her jean jacket tighter to her body and then cupped her thin, white hands near the low flame. Behind her, a gas lantern hissed to life and glowed warmly, even if it gave out very little heat.
“You should have a better coat,” Mark said, and Lea turned to give him a brief smile before turning quickly away again.
“I’m okay. I like this one,” she said. There was a bloom of flowers painted inexpertly onto the back of the jacket. It was special to her; that much was obvious from the way she wore it everywhere she went. Mark stood and went to the dining room off the kitchen. A laundry room clothes rack stood against the back wall where a buffet might normally have stood. He rooted through the things hanging there, pushing each aside until he found what he’d been looking for.
In the kitchen, he held it out to Lea. By now, Promise was sitting at the table, absently pl
aiting her ponytail. She looked lost in thought.
“Here,” Mark said. “Put this on under your jacket. You’ll stay warmer.” It was a pink and purple flannel, size small, probably the only thing on the rack that would fit comfortably under the jean jacket. Lea smiled shyly then stripped off her jacket and drew on the soft flannel. She put her jacket back over it, and the flannel hung well below the waistline, blousing out slightly. She turned to smile at Mark again. “Thanks!” she said, her voice bright.
But by then Mark had turned away from her. He sat at the table, his eyes on Promise. A small tweak of sadness caused Lea to turn back to the stove.
Lea thought that, of everyone she knew, it was most likely that she was the least affected by the vampire mess. In a town rife with all-American families, she’d been an anomaly. She lived in Town Center, but on the back outskirts where the big Victorians had all been converted to multi-family use, and one small apartment complex had popped up when the township found it was lacking the correct ratio of affordable housing.
She’d lived in the apartments with her foster father, Ricky Russo. Her foster mother, Crystal, had died five years prior when Lea had been twelve. Her foster mother’s death hadn’t affected Lea because she’d only been with the family for three months before the woman passed. She’d died of a heart attack, which wasn’t surprising–she must have been somewhere in excess of three hundred pounds. And she’d had a temper. In three months, Lea had already figured that much out. Plus, she’d received the bruises to prove it.
Ricky was much milder. He barely spoke, in fact. He didn’t work because he was on permanent disability, and when Crystal had died, he’d turned the three other foster children back into foster care, but he’d held onto Lea. He’d needed the rent subsidy, for one thing, and for another, she was easy. An easy kid. Quiet like him. In fact, the two of them barely spoke to each other. If they had even one short conversation a week, it was a lot. He’d never been mean, never yelled or beat her, never molested her–something the social workers had hinted at time and time again in their questioning of her, uneasy with the single father parenting–but he also didn’t love her. He couldn’t even really be said to have liked her. She kept herself and her room tidy. She got passing grades. She never asked for anything. They lived as two strangers in semi-crowded circumstances. For Ricky, it could have been called a shame that he never got to know the shy little girl living in his care.
But for Lea, it had been more than a shame, it had been emotionally devastating.
She’d never lost the sad, empty, yearning that a life without love had caused. When Ricky had disappeared in the vampire plague, Lea had made her way to the school and fallen in with Mr. West and the handful of other kids. He was her favorite teacher, as he was the favorite of many of the students. She’d often daydreamed her way through his class, imagining that Mr. West were her father.
In the past year, as she’d turned seventeen and spent more time under Mr. West’s direction, the yearnings had become more complicated; less innocently definable. She’d felt something adult, something sensual, in her feelings for him, and Mr. West, sensing it, had begun to hold her at arm’s length. He didn’t realize the extent and confusion of Lea’s feelings…he only saw it as an inappropriate crush…something he’d had to deal with a few times before with other students. He could not have known that what he considered wholly appropriate behavior on his part only served to reinforce Lea’s feelings about her own unlovability.
She stirred the raviolis and ran a hand over the soft flannel, overwhelmed by Mark’s small gesture. To Lea, there were no small gestures…any kindness, especially from a male, was enough to spin into dreams of real love. She dumped the raviolis into three bowls and turned to the table.
“What happened out there yesterday? I know something scared you, and we never talked about it last night.” Mark tried to put his hand over Promise’s, but she drew it back to accept the bowl from Lea.
“Thanks, Lea,” Promise said and set her bowl before her. She lowered her chin onto her hand as her food cooled. “I went to look for that cabin…you know, the one everyone says is out there?” Mark and Lea nodded, and Promise continued. “I thought if I could find it, that maybe we could come back with gasoline or something and burn it down. But I didn’t find it. And it’s so dark in parts of those woods…it’s that what-do-you-call-it? That vine Mr. West talked about?”
“Kudzu?” Lea supplied tentatively, not looking up from her bowl. Promise was one of the only people she felt even marginally comfortable enough with to offer information. Normally she’d have kept her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself.
“Yeah, kudzu, that’s right. About two miles in, the kudzu really takes over. It’s almost nighttime dark in there. And then a vamp just…he came out of nowhere and started chasing us. He chased us right up to the edge.”
“To the edge of the woods? Right before we found you?” Mark said.
Promise nodded, her face very pale as she remembered.
“It was faster than Ash, too,” she said. “It was outrunning us.”
Mark lowered his spoon and stared at her. “Faster than a horse?” His voice was more frustrated fear than incredulity. “And it came almost into the sun?”
“It was overcast while it was chasing us, plus like I said, the woods are so dark in spots. Then the sun came out all at once. It started to burn up…that’s what stopped it.”
“I don’t like it. We should tell Mr. West tomorrow. It’s weird that one of them was out during the day. It’s…” Mark trailed off, shaking his head.
Lea opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, a warbling scream started up outside. Not far from the safe house, either.
They all froze, listening. The scream came again, starting low, almost a buzz, and then cycled up and up, raising goose bumps on their arms. Ash, who’d been dozing with his head down, snorted uneasily.
“Is it human or…?” Mark trailed off, whispering.
Promise shook her head, and Lea sat mute, her eyes wide.
Silence.
They waited for the sound to come again, two minutes, then three. Then Mark started eating again. “Maybe a bobcat or even a raccoon. Don’t worry, girls, I don’t think–”
A fusillade of pounding came from the front door, and they all jumped up. Mark’s chair fell over backward, crashing to the floor, and Lea jumped again, yelping. Then Mark bolted to the door, grabbing a stake on the way.
“What?” he yelled, one shoulder pressed against the door. There was a standard peephole, but without electricity, they couldn’t have sustained lighting outside the safe houses. They also didn’t want to draw attention to them. So he had no way of seeing who pounded on the door.
“It’s me…Allen! Let me in!”
Mark hesitated and looked to Promise where she stood in the hall. Shadows jumped and swayed from the gas lantern in her hand. She’d grabbed a stake, too. She shrugged her shoulders at Mark.
The pounding came again. “Let me in! I heard something screaming behind the house! Let me in, let me in!”
The vampires weren’t capable of normal human speech, but the person on the other side of the door could be bit…he could be changing. On the other hand, they couldn’t leave someone outside. They’d be dead or gone over by morning, without question.
Mark held up three fingers to Promise and nodded. She nodded back and waved Lea forward. Lea went to the door, and her hand fluttered over the heavy bolt. She looked at Mark where he’d taken up a spot on the other side of the door. He nodded and counted down on his hand…one…two…on ‘three’ Lea pulled the bolt and turned the door handle, yanking backward. A figure fell through the door, and Mark was on him, holding him against the floor as Lea pushed the door closed and shot the bolt back home. Mark grunted, and Promise stood over the struggling bodies, stake at the ready.
“Stop fighting me!” Mark’s voice was a roar, and the body beneath his ceased movement. Mark sat up, his hands on the
boy’s shoulders. He was young, thirteen or so, thin and disheveled, and he looked very scared. Mark motioned for Promise to lower the lantern.
The boy lifted his head, showing the dirty line of his neck, and the lantern hollowed his cheeks and bruised the circles under his eyes. But he was unmarked.
“Are you bit, Allen?” Promise asked, and the boy shook his head.
“No! No, I swear I’m not! I didn’t even see any vampires!”
Mark looked up at Promise, and she shrugged. He rolled to the side and scrambled up. “Come on in the kitchen,” he said and offered his hand.
Once at the table, Lea pushed her bowl to Allen, and he dug in.
“What happened? How’d you get stuck outside?” Mark asked, and Allen looked up. His face flushed a deep red, and he lowered it, blinking.
Promise shook her head, and Mark sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? Don’t you dummies realize what could happen?” Mark asked. “Are you really that stupid?”
Some of the younger people–mostly a small group of boys aged twelve to fourteen– had started playing a game they called ‘tagged-out’ that involved running between the safe houses after dark.
“I’d heard about that stupid game, but I couldn’t believe–” Promise shook her head, her voice incredulous. “You really play that, Allen? Don’t you realize how dangerous that is?”
Allen glanced at Promise and shrugged. “It’s not like it used to be, not like when they first came here. We hardly ever see vampires anymore. No one even knows if they’re still around.” His voice held a tone of stubborn, little boy defiance. Everything he said was the amplification of what the boys said to themselves and each other in defense of the game.
“One chased me today, Allen,” Promise said. “During the daylight. In the woods. And it almost outran Ash.”
Blood Run – The Complete Trilogy – First Promise, Two Riders, Last Chance Page 4
