C.O.T.V.H. (Book 1): Creation

by Dustin J. Palmer

  “Shut up old man!” Tank shoved him hard in the chest with the barrel of the shotgun.

  “We can’t be sure,” Wes shoved Morris harder out the door.

  "You bastards!" Anderson screamed out in rage. “You’ll pay for this!”

  John Bishop’s head appeared in the doorway. His lips were split and covered in blood. “What’s going on here?” he pushed past the other three men. “Anderson? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Screw you Bishop! You sick twisted freak!” Henry screamed at him.

  Bishop rolled his eyes. “Anderson you have no idea of the shit storm you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “John.” Morris said, “We’ve got to get him out of here. Turner and his friend here were about to kill our favorite Texas Ranger.”

  “What?” Bishop said, looking at Wes and Tank. “Why?”

  “Well hell, John,” Wes answered. “He could be a vampire. We don’t take chances.”

  “We don’t kill innocent civilians either,” John said, angrily. “Ranger Anderson, why don't we take a nice little walk outside, till we figure out what's what."

  "Why don't you go screw yourself." Henry said, mustering what little spit he could and sending it Bishop’s direction.

  "I'm sorry but I must insist." He said, cocking the familiar ten-gauge shotgun, held tightly in his fist. “Unless you’d rather deal with my friends here.”

  Before he could come up with a reply, the tape binding Henry’s ankles was cut and he was yanked to his feet then led out the door. The last thing he noticed before leaving the room was a very large hole in the ceiling above. Gunfire sounded from all over the house. The next thing he knew he was shoved hard into the bright sunlit sky. Henry squinted his eyes tightly. From what he could see, they were in the middle of nowhere. There didn't appear to be any other houses around for miles.

  Bishop smiled at him lowering the gun. "Good."

  Henry looked around as if he was missing something. "Good what?"

  Bishop continued smiling as he cut the thick tape binding his wrists. “You passed the sun test.”

  “Sun test? Bishop what the hell are you talking about? What is going on here?”

  "I told you, you wouldn't believe me.” John frowned. “No one ever does. Some things you just have to see for yourself.”

  Anderson looked around completely confused by the strange turn of events. "Just what the hell do you plan on doing with me? People will notice if I just disappear like your other victims."

  "Victims?" Wes said, coming up behind him. He started laughing uncontrollably. He laughed so hard he actually bent over on his knees.

  "What's so damn funny?" Henry said, feeling strangely like he had just entered the twilight zone. "How about you just tell me what this is all about."

  “I will, but first I need to know, have you seen anyone else? Any other survivors? A woman with long brown hair? Slim build, green eyes, about 5 feet six inches tall?”

  “Your wife?” Henry asked.

  “My wife.” Jon nodded.

  “No.” Henry shook his head. “There was a woman though, her name is Kelly. We were tied up in the same room together; at least I think she was tied up.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah . . . no . . . look it’s complicated, in the past twelve hours I’ve been knocked out, tied up, nearly shot by some crazy hyped up bikers . . .” He paused, giving Wes a nasty glance. “Seriously Bishop just tell me what the fu . . .”

  More shots from inside followed by a man’s gut wrenching scream distracted them both from their conversation. Wes charged back inside followed closely by John.

  "What in the world have I stumbled into?" Henry said aloud, standing completely alone. He stood there for a few more seconds seriously contemplating running away and calling in for backup but he didn’t have any boots on and didn't want to chance running God only knows how many miles in his socks. The need to figure out what he had stumbled into over powered him. Rubbing his bruised wrists, he jogged back into the house and followed the shouting down into a dimly lit basement. John's voice screamed out, "Damn it Ben! Hold him!"

  Chapter 8

  Henry/John

  The Carver Mansion

  August 1, 1994 8:12am

  "I'm trying damn it! Stake him! Stake him! STAKE HIM!" the voice from the basement screamed. Anderson heard two more shots followed by some intense cursing.

  Henry bounded down the stairs taking them two and a time; he stopped cold at the bottom. John and Ben were wrestling with an old Hispanic man that looked to be in his late 70’s. Wes was checking the pulse of another man lying bloodied on the floor.

  It took Henry a minute to register what he was looking at. The elderly man seemed to be having no problem fighting the two men off. His forehead and chest were oozing a strange blackish blood from what looked to be bullet holes. Large, razor sharp fangs protruded from his mouth.

  Anderson took two steps back, "No!" he whispered. His brain wouldn’t accept what he was seeing. He knew it was impossible, but at the same time what other explanation could there be? He couldn't even say the word in his mind. Bishop had been right. As crazy as he knew it was, there was no other explanation. It was vampires.

  "Welcome to the party, Ranger!" John said, trying to hold the vampire's clawed hands from ripping Ben’s throat out. "Now how about giving us a hand?!"

  “FatAss is gone.” Wes said, stepping away from his dead companion. “That grunt bastard ripped his throat out. Anyone see any sign of Dozer or Diez?”

  “How about you give us a hand and then we’ll find out!” John yelled at him.

  "You two haven't finished with that old coot yet?” Wes said drawing a sawed off from its holster on his leg. He cracked it open, popped in two shells reloading it then snapped it back together. “Do I have to do everything myself?"

  “You can talk shit later, right now how about giving us a hand?!” Bishop yelled at him. The vampire snarled at John its jaws snapping like a mad dog.

  Wes holstered the shotgun then pulled his axe from off his shoulder and started to drive it into the old man's head. At that moment, another vampire charged out of the shadows and slammed into Wes sending the axe flying across the room. The beast fell on top of him, Wes’s hands quickly wrapped around the monster's throat keeping his teeth at bay. "Dozer!” Wes managed to get out before the beast sunk its teeth into his chain mail collar. “Get him off me! Get him off me!” He yelled out in a panic.

  John made the mistake of letting go for the briefest of seconds giving the elderly vampire enough leverage to get an arm free. He raked his claws across John's cheek leaving a vicious slash all the way from the corner of his left eye to his mouth.

  “John!” Ben screamed out. John turned, blood pouring down his face. A rage filled his eyes that Henry had never seen in any man. His massive fist slammed into the beast's face repeatedly shattering bone. Black gooey blood went flying in every direction as his facial bones collapsed under John’s onslaught. A wooden table lay on its side nearby and John easily ripped off one of its legs. Ben jumped out of the way just as the leg penetrated the old man's chest.

  Henry stood unsure of what to do for a few seconds before his instincts finally snapped. He grabbed the other vampire, the young man Wes had referred to as Dozer, by the back of his leather jacket and tossed him across the room.

  Turner’s axe was in his hand before he even realized what he was doing. As the monster charged, he sunk the blade deep into its neck. Dark oily blood splashed out over his hands. The vampire fell to the floor writhing and grabbing at the axe.

  Wes jumped to his feet and with a grunt yanked the axe free from the creature's halved neck with one swing he severed its head from his body, then turned and did the same to the old man with the table leg stuck in his chest.

  Henry felt the cold taste of shock come into his body. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He had drawn and fired his gun at least a dozen times in the line of duty, but had never k
illed. Now his hands were covered in blood. He stared at the dark substance, staining his hands. The same stuff he had seen on the floor at John Bishop’s house.

  A bloodied Ben Morris walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's never easy your first time. But you just saved Turner’s life."

  "Bullshit," Turner piped up. "I had him. I was just waiting for the right moment."

  Henry’s ears rang, his heart beat like a drum and sweat cascaded down his brow. "Would someone please just tell me what the hell is going on?!"

  “Morris get him out of here before he pisses himself,” Turner said, wiping the blade of his axe on the shirt of the elderly vampire. “Any sign of Diez?”

  “No not yet.” John said, picking his shotgun off the ground. “But odds are if Dozer and FatAss are dead, he is too. Or worse, he’s one of them.”

  “I’m back here!” A voice called from somewhere deep in the basement. “Get me out of here!”

  “Diez? That you?” Turner said, shining his light back into the darkness.

  “It’s me!” He called back. “Someone get this damn thing off me!”

  "Diez you stupid son of a bitch, if I get back there only to find out you're a Maker, I'm really going to kick your ass!" Turner yelled.

  "I'm not a vamp! I swear!" Diez called back.

  "Uh huh. That's exactly what a Maker would say." Turner said picking his way through the debris littered room.

  Henry followed them through the darkened basement, their lights casting on various pieces of furniture covered in dusty white sheets. “Damn it Diez! I don't have time for this shit! Where are you?” Turner called out.

  “I’m right here.” A voice next to Henry’s foot said, causing him to jump. Henry looked down to find a young Hispanic man trapped under a toppled over armoire.

  “Get this damn thing off me would you?” Diez said.

  "You sure you weren't bit?" Turner asked swinging his axe back and forth over his head like a pendulum.

  "Boss it's me! I swear!" Diez cried out, terror filling his voice. "Please don't kill me!"

  "Geez Wes, when did you get so goddamn twitchy?" John shoved Turner aside. "Someone help me get this kid out?"

  "Just being careful." Turner said, taking a few steps back. Together the three men strained but managed to lift the armoire off him while Turner kept his pistol trained on his head.

  “Shit I thought I was dead for sure!” Diez said, dusting himself off.

  "You aren't out of the woods just yet. Get your ass upstairs." Turner replied cocking the hammer on his pistol. Diez didn't hesitate, he turned faster than Henry would have thought possible and bounded up the stairs into the sunlight. Once everyone was back outside, Turner finally lowered his pistol. Diez' shoulders visibly relaxed. “What the hell happened?” Turner asked crossing his arms.

  “Boss man, we came through the door and began searching. We made it all the way through the basement when a grunt landed on Dozer’s back. Ripped his helmet clean off is head and sunk his teeth into his neck. I grabbed hold and tried to pull him off but the dirty bloodsucker knocked me backwards into that damn china cabinet. It toppled over and knocked me clean out. Where’s FatAss? Is he okay?”

  “He’s gone.” Turner said, shaking his head. “Dozer too.”

  “Damn.” Diez said, shaking his head. “I need to take a breather for a few minutes. I mean, if that's okay."

  Turner didn’t answer but turned to Ben. "Morris, stay here with Diez and the Ranger. John and I will head back down and mop up, make sure Julia's not down there somewhere.” John nodded at Ben letting him know it was okay.

  As Turner and John stepped back inside, Ben walked to their sedan, pulled out a white towel and two canteens, and handed them to Diez and Henry. "Here guys, wash up.”

  Diez took it without saying a word and disappeared back toward The Slayers van.

  Henry splashed the lukewarm water over his face and hair clearing it of any blood and dirt then wiped down with the towel. “Please Morris; tell me I didn’t just see what I thought I saw.”

  Ben wiped down his own face shaking his head. “I hate to tell you Ranger, but this is as real as it gets.”

  “Tell me everything.” Henry said, tossing the towel back into the car. “And I mean everything.” So Ben told him. He explained about vampires and hunting. After he was done, Henry looked him up and down. "Bullshit. That's just not possible. I mean. Come on? Vampires? That's just not possible!"

  “You tell me then.” Ben pulled the shark gloves off his hands and unbuttoned his duster. “You’re in law enforcement. I’m sure you’ve pulled your gun in the line of duty at least a few times. How many times have you seen someone take bullets to the head and keep moving?”

  Anderson started to reply when Ben suddenly pulled him out of the way as John and Turner tossed the elderly man’s headless body from the house into the yard. It was then that he knew it was all true. The body burst into a huge ball of fire and burnt down to the skeleton in a matter of seconds.

  "God in heaven!" Anderson said, his hand going to his mouth in shock.

  "Here Henry, have a seat.” Ben opened the back door to his sedan.

  He sat down shakily. He couldn't help but stare dumbfounded at the young man sitting in the front seat. Ben Morris was the last thing he would think of when imagining what a vampire hunter would look like. Yet here he stood, full of courage and confidence that Henry could only marvel at him. The man was half his age but Anderson couldn't help but feel a kinship for him. For some unknown reason, even though they'd just met, he liked this man.

  "Look Henry I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see this. But if we hadn't gotten here when we did, one of these freaks would probably have had you for a midday snack. This is as real as it gets.”

  “But why here? Why Midland?”

  Ben sighed, “They hit an area. They kill all they can before anyone notices and move on to another town. It's our job to watch the papers, follow the patterns, and put it all together. It's not perfect but we kill our fair share of vampires."

  Anderson took a deep breath then cleared his throat trying to regain his composure. "But this doesn’t make sense? Why haven’t I heard of this before? Why bother to keep all this quiet? Why not tell the authorities and get some help?"

  Ben nodded thoughtfully. "I'm all for it, but there's two problems with that. One, you start spewing ‘nonsense’ about vampires and they are going to lock you up in the nuthouse. Two, the government doesn’t want people to know."

  He couldn't argue with the first reason but the second he had a hard time believing. Henry had listened to his fair share of conspiracy nuts within Dallas PD when Jack Ruby killed Oswald, but he'd never believed any of it. He just couldn't believe his own government could be that corrupt. "I don't believe it, Ben. Tell me why. Why would they cover it up?"

  “Fear,” Ben shrugged his shoulders. “Can you imagine if someone told you that your neighbor, that just happens to work nights, might be a vampire? People would go ape shit! There’d be mass murders all over the country, probably the whole damn planet.”

  “I don’t buy that.” Henry disagreed. “People are smart. Give them the chance and they’ll do alright.”

  “Oh yeah? You ever hear of a little thing called the dark ages? Or the Salem Witch trials? People tortured, hung, even burned at the stake? A single person is afraid, a group of people . . . well, that’s something different entirely. That’s called mass hysteria. But that’s not even the only reason. I’m not saying all of those in D.C. are corrupt, but a lot of it is good old fashion greed.”

  “Greed? Like what? They’re on the vampire payroll? Come on Morris, that’s pretty thin.”

  Ben sighed loudly, “While the makeup of the vampire leadership is still a mystery, like damn near everything else about them. We do know that during their centuries of existence they've accumulated quite a little nest egg for themselves. Enough to buy off quite a few politicians. Think about it . . . money has no real value to them o
ther than a bargaining tool, a means to control the greedy men in office. I’m willing to bet they’ve been doing it as long as there have been governments. The U.S. is no different. If anything it was probably easier then what they had dealt with in the past.”

  “How so? What’s wrong with the good ole U.S. of A?”

  “Nothing. But you have to admit that a democracy would have to be easier to control than a dictatorship or even a monarchy. In the U.S., it doesn't matter if you lobby for a cigarette company or a group of blood sucking vampires. Campaign contributions make all the difference.”

  “But they can’t all be corrupt. I’ve met some crooked politicians, but selling out your own species for a few bucks . . . man that’s dark.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Henry. Not all of them are corrupt. While a lot of them sold out, some very important people at the top couldn’t be swayed. The idea of something evil lurking in the darkness, that could sneak into their children's rooms at night didn't cause them to hide in fear, but to step up and do their very best to make sure the vampire population didn’t get out of control, especially with this new administration. This guy’s got it out for vamps. Hell a few years back we’d get a few bucks here and there from Government Defense funds, but today we are paid huge bounties for any vampire fangs brought in.”

  At that instant, two men in leather jackets came outside dragging two more headless vampires. Again, they burst into flames at Anderson's feet. "So, is that why do you boys do it then?" Anderson said, taking a quick step back from the burning skeletons. "The money?"

  John walked outside and handed Henry a pair of long teeth. "Here," he said, dropping them into his hand. "You earned them."

  Henry looked down at his hand confused. “What’s this?” he asked looking them over.

  “About ten thousand dollars,” John said, before walking back into the house.

  “Is he serious?” Henry asked Ben, his eyes never leaving the fangs in his palm.