Vampire Esquire's War: A Novella

by Wells Jr. , Michael

  He didn't see anyone, and the place was quiet other than the distant rumbling of the L trains.

  Roland waited and waited. And because he forgot his watch he lost track of the time.

  Finally he saw some headlights coming up an alley, and this made him uneasy. Maybe there was more to this deal than he realized. Maybe it wasn't even a deal at all, and people wanted him dead.

  A black Ford Expedition pulled up and stopped in front of Roland. The Expedition’s engine shut off, and its lights turned off.

  The car door opened. A tall man in a black trench coat, boots and a brimmed hat stepped out.

  "Mr. Walker, I hear you are a pretty good shot with a gun and with an arrow."

  What an odd thing to say to someone, thought Roland. But then again that guy looks odd.

  "That's true I guess," Roland said. “But I don’t see what that has to do with anything here in Chicago. It isn’t exactly the backwoods of Illinois.”

  "True. My name is William Magnum, and I'm a member of the Society of the Silver Stake. Do you know what that is?"

  Roland had no idea, and he worried it might be some sort of trick question. He decided the best thing to do was to answer truthfully. "No sir."

  Magnum smiled, "There is no reason you would know, Mr. Walker. I'm going to give you some crazy news." Roland appeared unfazed.

  Magnum pointed to the side of one of the gunmetal gray warehouses where a lonely door with a glass window sat. Roland followed Magnum as he walked towards the door and unlocked it with a key from his belt.

  The old door shut behind them, and the yellowed mini-blinds slapped against the door. Magnum reached up and pulled a cord, turning on a faint bulb that hung from a ceiling about fifty feet in the air.

  What have I gotten myself into, thought Roland. How do I know these guys aren’t crazy people and liars? I’m in a deserted warehouse with a guy who looks like Dr.Van Helsing.

  Magnum continued talking. "The Society of the Silver Stake is a very old society, and it has as its goal the destruction of evil vampires and the peaceful coexistence of humans and vampires."

  Roland staggered back, and then he laughed mockingly. "Vampires?" he said incredulously. "Is this a fucking joke? You drag me to this deserted warehouse with one light bulb hanging from a string. This is crazy man. Crazy.”

  He turned around and bolted towards the door. “This is bullshit man. You fucking people are crazy.” As he started to turn the door, a hand yanked his arm and spun him around. Magnum stared implacably into Roland’s eyes. He believes this shit, thought Roland.

  “Get your damn hands off me, Van Helsing.”

  Magnum laughed. “I consider that a compliment, and I’ve heard it before. I’m going to show you Mr. Walker. You will soon believe me.”

  Chapter 5

  “What am I in a fucking comic book?” said Roland. Roland slammed his duffle bag to the ground, and he folded his arms.

  “Lot’s of people have that reaction, but you don’t really have a choice, do you?” said Magnum.

  Roland shrugged. “The Society of the Silver Stake dates back to the American Revolution. Vampires tried to aid the British in winning the Revolution, but it didn’t work.”

  Roland laughed. “God you are crazy? What am I in a Blade movie? Are you Chris Kristofferson?”

  “Okay, I don’t expect you to get this at first, but think of this. Vampires are deeply embedded in our consciousness. They are in our books, our legends, our TV shows and are our deepest fears. Why do you suppose this is? Do you think this came out of no where?”

  “I suppose not,” Roland said incredulously.

  “I’m going to prove it to you by showing you, but first of all we need to practice for our hunt.”

  “Our hunt?”

  “The vampire hunt tonight. You will see then.”

  “Will you tell me why I’m here in this isolated place?”

  Magnum smiled. “You will see. We have work to do.”

  Roland rolled his eyes unconvinced. Let’s go inside this door right here. Magnum motioned to a metal door that had glass windows with bars over them. He pulled out a key, and he unlocked the deadbolt at the top and the lock at the bottom.

  The door opened into a dark, expansive room. Magnum flipped on a light that illuminated the entryway, and Roland could see the outlines of shapes, although he couldn’t make out what the shapes were.

  Magnum motioned Roland towards the dark room with the faint shapes. Roland rolled his eyes. Okay, you crazy old bastard, thought Roland, I will do what you say.

  “You need to learn how to kill vampires, so I've brought a vampire to tell you what to do." Magnum yanked the cord, and the light switched off to shroud the anteroom and larger room in darkness except for a faint ray of light coming from under the blinds near the door. Roland could not move.

  Such melodramatic bullshit, thought Roland. I don’t get what all this buildup is about.

  Then faint lights came on. What is a rock band about to come out? Jesus. The inside of the warehouse could have been an indoor football practice facility, but it had various obstacles set up throughout the large room. Doors and doors lead to more rooms. It reminded him of his special forces training, but it was different because he wasn’t being trained to go fight in Iraq and Afghanistan.

  From behind one of the obstacles a figure emerged. The figure was about six feet tall, dark haired and wiry. Roland started to laugh with incredulity. Whose this asshole supposed to be, thought Roland. Maybe he thinks he’s in Wrestlemania.

  But, as the figure emerged, Roland could tell the man was different. There was an animal litheness in his movement that was preternatural. He didn’t move like most men. His movements and his bearing made Roland feel a little uneasy.

  "Roland Walker, meet Mr. Pierre Leblanc, Esquire…and vampire."

  The guy was odd, but Roland still didn’t buy it; and the man made him uncomfortable.

  Leblanc grinned to reveal fangs, but he smiled in a warm and friendly way. Roland thought it must be a joke, but he stuck out his hand and shook it anyway. He would go along with this joke.

  Leblanc sensed Roland's apprehension and skepticism, and he spoke. "Roland…may I call you Roland?" Roland nodded slightly still in disbelief and weirded out by the situation.

  "Mr. Leblanc…"

  “Call me Pierre. I know this is a lot to take in, and I will have time for your questions later. But we have a lot of work to do.”

  “No, I want my fucking questions answered,” demanded Roland.

  “Why am I supposed to believe you without more proof?”

  Leblanc chuckled. “Roland, we really don’t have the time. It will be proven to you soon.”

  “Bullshit,” Roland shouted. “Fangs are easy to fake. Dentists put them in all the time.”

  “Roland––“

  “Don’t you fucking Roland me, asshole. Show me or my ass is leaving! I will do my time, but I won’t be tied into this shit show anymore.”

  Roland felt himself flying in the air and Leblanc’s arms on him. He saw red in Leblanc’s eyes. Then Leblanc threw him, and he hurdled through the air. Before he could hit the dark ground, Leblanc caught him.

  “That’s some strong catgut string,” said Roland.

  “You are going to be a little harder,” said Leblanc. “Let’s go outside.” He grabbed Roland and dragged him outside. Then Roland jumped and flew into the air. He circled the building and landed gently as if he were Superman.

  Roland started incredulously. Okay, there must be a logical explanation for this, he thought.

  “Convinced?” Leblanc asked Roland.

  Roland couldn’t think of anything to say. All three men walked back inside.

  ________

  Everything was so new to Roland. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or what he saw was the truth.

  Once they got back inside, Leblanc motioned to Magnum who pulled out a silver stake. “This is your weapon Roland. And you must learn how to use
it. Silver bullets and silver bolts from crossbows are useful, but nothing works like a silver stake.”

  Roland had always felt established order was tenuous at best. He could never pinpoint why. Maybe he felt this way because he always sensed there was more to the world than met the eye. Perhaps there was something unexplained and terrible, and vampires may be that terrible thing; if it were true, vampires were the true manifestation of that vague sense of dread.

  If true, here he had found clear evidence of that thin thread. If it snapped, humans would be plunged into Hell on Earth with vampires ruling and enslaving humans.

  If what he saw and heard were true, he didn’t have time for philosophical questions. He needed to focus on the task at hand, and that meant learning how to hunt and destroy vampires.

  ____________________________

  "Pierre, why is it you help people like me hunt and kill vampires?"

  Roland didn’t know what he’d seen, but Pierre was different than any person he’d ever known. Perhaps he wasn’t even a person. Maybe he was a vampire or a superhero, but once you saw someone fly you had seen the impossible. What was that saying? If you take away the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, is the truth. For the time being, he would go along with Magnum and Pierre Leblanc.

  "I make sure the right kinds of vampires are hunted and killed. Perhaps a better way of putting it is the wrong kinds of vampires.

  "Roland, there are two kinds of vampires. There are Silver Stake vampires and Restoration vampires. Silver stake vampires make every effort to avoid hurting humans. They purchase blood from blood banks and try to coexist as peacefully as possible. They do not look down on humans. Silver stake vampires remember they were once were human. They try and retain their humanity even though they are undead.

  "Restoration vampires are another story. They reject their humanity. They are vicious, and they kill humans for food, but they take joy in killing them. They enjoy the conquest of it. They fight each other, and they only care about themselves, which is the main reason they have not been successful enslaving humans. If they could ever get organized, they would pose a real threat to human and vampire coexistence, I hear they are unifying better than in years past. So it is imperative we kill as many of them as possible because, if they ever do organize, we want their numbers to be as thin as possible."

  Roland nodded his head in silent agreement. If true, there was a clear logic to it. He viewed it as analogous to killing bacteria. If you kill the bacteria, you have a better chance of not getting sick.

  “So almost like eradicating a pest of some sort. Let’s say a locust is ravaging your crops. You get rid of all the locusts you can to save the crops.”

  “There will always be some locust.”

  “True, so you keep killing as many as you can.”

  “Exactly,” Pierre smiled.

  It had been awhile since Roland fired a gun or shot an arrow. He didn’t doubt his accuracy, but he did doubt whether he could kill again.

  Roland decided to play along. If it proved untrue, he would be none worse for the wear.

  "How will I know who they are or where to find them?"

  Leblanc responded, "I know you will be good at it. It is in your blood.

  "Roland, it is not mere coincidence we picked you. Lots of people can shoot well. That is a useful skill, but that's not all it takes. It takes a powerful sense of right and wrong, and you have this.”

  Leblanc walked up to Roland and looked him in the eye. Despite being a vampire, Pierre had kind eyes. And this comforted Roland. "You must not do yourself this way Roland. I know how you feel. For hundreds of years I troubled myself with such thoughts. I thought there was something I could have done to save my wife, Quinta. I was wrong. My fate was to continue to exist and to hunt down evil vampires. I’m here to preserve the peaceful coexistence between humans and vampires. You are here for the same reason."

  How could this man (or vampire) know or perhaps sense so much about him already? Did he wear his past on his sleeve?

  Roland’s eyes moistened, and he felt stupid for being moved by this stranger. Regardless of who or what Pierre was, the conversation had moved Roland. He still felt the pain of his past transgressions, but he felt more hope now, hope that he could make amends.

  “All I ask is that you suspend disbelief. I'm going to teach you what to do, but I know you already know what to do. I just have to show you how to do what you already know. I know that sounds strange, but it is true. It is your destiny. I hope you believe in destiny, because I certainly do. We all have a purpose Roland. Don't you forget that. If we get our philosophies straight, the rest will follow."

  The words of encouragement reassured Roland. Who would have thought he could derive comfort from a vampire? This assumed Pierre was a vampire. But the world was upside down. He was after all a vampire hunter, which when he thought about it wasn't that much different or bizarre than a ghost buster. Heck, maybe ghost busters existed as well.

  Careful not to lose his focus, Pierre said, “Enough about your feelings. Let’s get down to the particulars. Training is important.”

  Roland nodded, eager to get started.

  “Magnum is going to teach you about the weapons.”

  Magnum said, "I've developed silver stabbing stakes and stakes you can shoot. A silver stake is much more effective than a regular stake. It goes through a vampire's chest like a hot knife through butter. The difficulty is getting the stake in a position to be stabbed. Even when weakened the vampire will still be much stronger than you. That is why it is essential to be in a place to strike quickly.”

  Roland asked, “Why is a silver stake more effective?”

  “Good question. Silver weakens a vampire by its touch alone. It melts skin. It is like acid to them.”

  Magnum gestured towards a black blanket, and he pulled it off. He pointed to the crossbow sitting stacked like a medieval arsenal.

  "The crossbow is a safer method, but this requires the shooter to be a great shot. You are good with a gun and bow and arrow, but the crossbow is a different weapon. You will need to practice with it on moving targets, preferably younger, bad vampires."

  Roland picked up a crossbow and looked through the viewfinder. He liked the light weight yet substantial feel in his hands.

  This was a lot to take in, and Roland was surprised there was such a methodology to killing vampires. He did know being a good shot didn’t hurt. He could focus on the weapon. Focus on the weapon. Hit the target. It’s just a target, he thought.

  When he was in the Marines, the training took over. Emotion was taken out of killing. Sometimes it was important to feel things, but feeling a lot when fighting a vampire would probably get him killed.

  _________________

  Bridgett spent a few hours each night at her apartment in Georgetown reading websites some might call fringe websites about everything from UFO abductions to vampire sightings.

  She noticed a large number of videos on You Tube showing attacks of so-called “vampires”. The attacks were short, brutal, and the perpetrator usually vanished, leaving a blood and dismembered corpse. Three out of every ten videos she watched ended with both the perpetrator and the victim disappearing.

  Her natural inclination was to think the videos hoaxes, but the videos were remarkably similar in the movements of the perpetrators, regardless of size and gender. The reactions of the victims were similar as well. Both of these things made Bridgett feel there was more there.

  Chapter 6

  A sharp knock sounded against the mahogany door.

  "Yes. Come in." The door opened, and in walked Fletcher Turner. "Fletcher, nice to see you. I've got a favor to ask you, but you will need to keep this secret."

  Turner nodded in agreement. He always agreed with Inman, or at least he did outwardly. He understood the importance of loyalty. Loyalty was a key component of success in politics as was treachery. The two were sometimes at odds because on occasion you needed to screw over the
people you were supposed to be loyal to. Ultimately, the loyalty was really to yourself and your own ambition. That is what Turner had learned from Inman.

  Not a tall man, Fletcher was a beady-eyed troll well suited do his boss’s dirty work. In fact, Fletcher was the sort of inside-the-beltway reptile who enjoyed such things. But he did not possess, nor would he ever, the charisma necessary to rise above the level of functionary or yes-man. He did long to rise above his station at some point, and he believed he could provided that he made the correct moves.

  "Fletcher I would like for you to go to Paris and meet with a guy named Vladimir Lenin. I guess his parents were big admirers of the Vladimir Lenin. But's he's a billionaire many times over, and he's put $2 billion in a Super-PAC to be used by the Republican nominee for president to defeat President Elder. I intend to be that nominee."

  Interesting, thought Fletcher. Perhaps this is my chance to make an impression. He always believed Inman would run for president, and that he could win, which is why Turner sought out working for Inman after Turner finished college at Georgetown.

  "Certainly sir, and I am glad to hear you are running for president. This country could use a man like you in the Oval Office."

  Inman smiled and responded, "Thank you, but for now let's keep this between us. And I’m not supposed to have a connection to the Super-PAC. Talk to our lawyers about how we can raise money for the campaign without being officially connected Lenin.”

  “It is often best to not know where the money came from.”

  "Certainly, sir." Fletcher turned to walk out of the office overjoyed with this new information.

  "One more thing, Fletcher. I will remember this. If I am elected, I'm going to take you with me. You have always been loyal to me.”

  "Thank you sir. I won't let you down." He hated such canned responses, but, in Washington especially, one had to be obsequious.