by Matt Drabble
He had been a part of Jimmy’s organization for several years; he had been a low level pimp under Bennett Drake back in the day. It had been Ghost that had spotted his talent, and promoted him above all others within the prostitution industry. He had been a careful and scrupulous employee, his records were accurate, the money was always spot on, and he did not abuse the girls. He was popular with the women for his fair and balanced approach; the girls were only disciplined when it was necessary, and never on a whim or out of sadistic pleasure. He had been loyal to Jimmy, but now the whole world had gone to shit in a hurry. Girls were missing all over the city and madams had not opened brothels for business. The police were sniffing around, inquiring after the missing men who happened to be regulars. He had not been able to contact Jimmy or Ghost, the word was that they were out, and someone new was in, and that they were cleaning house.
He looked nervously towards the depot; the low lights illuminated little in the black night, hopefully concealing him as well. He had no intention of waiting around for the new boss to come looking for him. He knew that whenever there was a hostile takeover, you dispose of the old regime. Maybe there would be a place for those foot soldiers who felt unappreciated to switch loyalties. He had, when Jimmy had taken the city from Drake, but you could never trust the captains.
A bottle smashed in the distance, and he flung himself back against the wall instantly. His nerves were twitching on fire, and every noise felt like an air raid siren. He was dressed in old ratty clothes that smelled none too ripe, and his plan was to disappear into the homeless population. He would hide below the sight line until he could get out of the city. His finances were in decent order, and he would be able to set himself up under a new identity somewhere far away from his criminal beginnings.
He was waiting for the midnight bus that would facilitate his departure, for the moment it did not matter where, just so long as he was out of reach. He checked his watch again praying that for once, the bus would not be late. Shadows moved across the narrow road, human rats that scurried and hurried into the night.
He was secreted in a deserted and closed down shop dead opposite the bus depot, the windows of the shop were securely boarded against intrusion. Even though he was concealed in the empty building, he still felt nakedly exposed, but he dare not risk entering the bus depot before his transport had arrived. The bright neon lights of the terminal called to him, a siren’s song of enticement. He could see through the slits in the boards, the shapes of the employees that moved around within the safe walls, but knew that he dare not expose himself for even a moment. He did not know who might be watching if anyone, but he had survived as long as he had in the game by being careful and prudent. He shuffled from foot to foot nervous and impatient, he checked his watch again, five minutes, please don’t be late he pleaded silently to the Gods.
To the side of the shop in the alley, the night erupted into loud noise; he spun around and rushed to the side window whipping out the 38 revolver that had been secreted. The alley was illuminated by the flickering flames emanating from a large metal drum that was filled with flammable debris and lit by the homeless against the bone chilling cold of the night. Two bums were rolling around in the dirt, desperately fighting over a treasure of edible food found in a fast food container discarded not twenty four hours earlier. Castle sighed with relief and tucked his weapon away for safe keeping.
His heart lurched with joy as a large brightly lit bus rolled into view, his transport had arrived. He resisted the urge to run full pelt across the road and kiss the tires. He would wait until the last possible moment to board his escape. He placed his hands outstretched on the boarded window and pressed his face against the gap.
The bus depot lurched into life as passengers unloaded from the now parked bus and the boarders lined up eager to be out of the cold. Just wait, just wait, he pleaded to himself, he needed to limit the time that he was in the open to as little as possible. He crept his way to the door and eased it gently open. There in bright neon, was his escape and salvation. He had dreams of a life outside of the degradation that had become his daily grind. Perhaps he’d open a business, maybe a coffee shop, somewhere bright and cheery.
For all of his careful procedures, he had never been alone; he had been followed from his apartment for several days. His tracker had never been fooled by his disguise, by his change of smell or by his hiding. His tracker had been waiting parked behind the shop, longing for the call. Once it came, he had slipped silently into the long shadows of the deserted, abandoned shop and crept up behind the unaware Castle.
Castle managed one step out into his new life before his old one wrapped a talon around his throat and dragged him back into the dark building. He was flung violently across the room and crashed painfully into the far wall, making a large hole in the rotting plasterboard. Castle rolled with the impact and came up gun in hand. “Fuck you amateur” he breathlessly managed and pulled the trigger, he kept firing until the hammer struck on empty chambers.
His attacker lay motionless on the floor, six bloody holes ripped through his shirt. Castle walked slowly and carefully towards the motionless body. He breathed a sigh of relief as he ascertained the man was not breathing, he stepped carefully around the prone figure knowing that the gunshots would soon be reported, and he had to be gone.
He was almost away when razor sharp nails grabbed his ankle shredding the flesh to the bone, Castle staggered forward and fell. He only had time to roll over and look into the face of a monster, as hungry fangs fell upon him ripping and tearing. His blood pumped and spurted across the filthy floor, and his light dimmed.
Grundy heaved his weary body through the front door and up the stairs, his footsteps were noisy, but he really could not give two shits for the disturbance.
“Babe is that you?” A bleary voice echoed down the stairs.
He paused on the stairs cursing the voice; he had forgotten that she would be here. The last thing in the world that he wanted was more grief off of some clingy bitch who didn’t know when to unhook her manicured claws out of him, and fuck off. His whole day had already been one stinking mess after another; the whole organization was crumbling around their ears. Everyone was either gone, or else getting gone in a hurry, and he could not reach Jimmy or Ghost. The streets were alive with the sounds of a coup, but no one knew by whom. The crew under him were disappearing down the sink hole at a rate of knots, stinking rats fleeing a sinking ship. Well not on his watch, he was not about to run scared into the night like a child. He had carved out his piece of the world through blood and pain and he would not give it up without a fight. Let the bastards come, let them kick in his doors and charge in weapons out and dicks hard, he’d send every last fucker to hell before him.
“Babe” the sleepy voice called again.
Starting with her, he was done playing it nice; he started screwing around with Dedee or Fifi or whatever the hell her name was, a few weeks ago. She’d been a bit of fun at first; she was an exotic dancer, as she grandly liked to call it, at one of their clubs along the coast. She’d been willing and inventive in the bedroom, and every other room that took his fancy. Their nights had been fun and easy until she’d started to get serious. She’d started demanding to know where he was, where he was going, who he was seeing, and all that other bullshit. He did not want a wife or girlfriend; he did what he wanted with whoever he wanted.
“Honey bear?”
Her voice grated on his already ragged nerves, with everything that was happening at the minute, the last thing he needed was aggravation from slutty skank with ideas above her station.
“Bring me up a water from the fridge”
The fucking cheek, she was ordering him around in his own house, his last nerve broke, and he reached down and slipped off his belt. He doubled it over and snapped it together viciously. An unpleasant grin broke across his face, this was one world in which he was still king, and she was going to learn that fact painfully.
He kicked open
the bedroom door with a swinging boot, the doorframe splintered under the violent impact and the door flung open crashing into the wall. His anger froze on his face as he stepped into the room. She was kneeling on the bed and her face was a perfect picture of innocence and sexual predator. The thin white negligee clung to every surgically enhance curve, and shallow beads of sweat ran trails of glistening enticement down her cleavage. Grundy stood watching, unable to move, transfixed by his sheer primal lust for her. All thoughts of violence seeped from his bones as the looped belt slipped to the floor forgotten. She arched her back, running fingers through her hair allowing it to spill and fall in glorious red waves. She thrust her chest invitingly up and forward, revelling in its glory. Grundy staggered to the bed, his eyes transfixed on hers, not believing that he could have failed to see their translucent blue glare. He sank onto the bed and plunged his face into her bountiful breasts, sinking into the soft curves. He did not even feel the sharp stab as her fangs sank deeply into his neck and drank his life away.
McGinnis watched the window as Langstrom packed furiously, clothes spilled and flew across the room as some were discarded and others jammed into the cases.
“Hurry up” McGinnis barked, never taking his eyes from the window.
“I’m going as fast as I can” came the panting reply.
The cabin was on the outskirts of the city and McGinnis had thought that it might be far enough out of sight to keep them safe, but he knew now that he was wrong. His instincts were screaming in alarm, they were not safe, even here; whoever was coming would be here soon.
McGinnis considered himself and Langstrom to be the best in the business, and they did not run from any man. But this was different; whatever was going on here was not the work of any man that he had ever dealt with. He knew that Ghost had sent Jimmy into hiding before he himself had disappeared. Anyone that made Ghost want to disappear was no-one that McGinnis wanted to meet.
He stared out of the window into the black woods beyond, the security lighting was set to illuminate whenever anything got within ten feet of the cabin. Normally the wildlife would set it off every two minutes, but even they were conspicuously absent tonight. His eyes darted around in all directions surveying the potential battleground. He had tried to ring several members of the inner circle, but no one was answering. The honour roll seemed to be growing by the minute, the likes of Jenkins and Johnson had been missing for days, now Moon was gone and he couldn’t reach Grundy or Castle. It was all collapsing around their ears, and they still had no idea just who was behind it all. The Parkers would never have the brains or balls to pull off anything of this magnitude.
The lights outside suddenly exploded into life, McGinnis pressed his face against the glass desperately seeking the source of the intrusion. Langstrom was swiftly at his elbow; they exchanged a resigned look and backed away. Langstrom turned silently and opened the large canvas holdall on the bed. He retrieved two Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine-guns capable of firing up to 800 rounds-per-minute and threw one to McGinnis. They both knocked the safeties off in unison and headed for the door.
McGinnis took the lead; he raised the MP5 to shoulder height and descended slowly. Langstrom flicked off the lights behind him, and they both eased their way down into the darkness. The cabin interior was large and spacious, and the front door opened directly into the lounge area. The walls were wooden logs, and there were windows either side of the front door.
McGinnis and Langstrom took position by the windows, and peered out into the dark as the security lights faded out again. McGinnis saw shadows darting across the hedgerows that encased the property. The trees encroached into the garden and offered sufficient cover for intruders. He had meant for ages to remove the coverage, but he had grown complacent, as had they all.
The lights exploded into life again as a figure stepped forward, his hands behind his back in casual contemplation, suddenly he was joined by other men walking out of the shadows. Six figures began to walk slowly towards the cabin, as far as McGinnis could see no one appeared to be armed. As they approached the house he could make out the leaders face, Kofi. McGinnis gripped the MP5 tightly as Kofi and his boys moved in closer, he looked to Langstrom who had also identified their assailants.
“Evening fellas” Kofi called out agreeably, “Why don’t you both come out, and we can talk this over like rational men”
“Bullshit Kofi, you fucking traitor, I know why you’re here” McGinnis answered.
“You do, well that’s good my friend because my orders were to take you both in alive. So to speak, as the boss had big plans for you, I’m only to kill you if absolutely necessary, is it?”
“You bet your fucking ass it is you piece of shit” Langstrom answered with a rare show of emotion.
“Well then, why not come out and face it like men” Kofi challenged.
McGinnis looked at Langstrom; they shared a common thought, if it was to end then it should end like this. They stepped to the door, McGinnis pulled Langstrom in close, and they shared their last embrace. A passionate kiss that transcended all that had been before in their secret six year relationship. They had been lovers, friends, and partners, and it was only fitting that they should fall together.
McGinnis opened the door, and they both stepped outside, one hand intertwined and the other holding an MP5 submachine gun. The noisy gunfire echoed throughout the deserted woodland. The remaining wildlife fled in terror at the sound in the distance, as the gunfire roared with full automatic bursts, then fell, dying slowly to the occasional single shot.
Sometime later one set of nocturnal animals replaced another, as the woodland creatures crept forward to gnaw and chew on the bloody bones.
Dr Elliot gathered the class within the inappropriate confines of the games room. The only lighting that had best served his purposes had to contain the garish bright neon authentic bar signs that littered the walls. The now still body of Mr Jenkins the former Port Authority Manager lay splayed out on the pool table, his restraints long since discarded as unnecessary. Ghost stood front and centre, a small hardback notepad in one hand and a pencil in the other in a typically ordered manner. The reporter Jess, as she preferred to be called, stood a wary distance back, none too eager to view the dissected man. Eddie fluttered at the back, his attention constantly drifting towards the various 80’s style arcade machines that sat powered down and lifeless.
“Ok” Elliot began, his fears of a shattered belief in the world, hidden behind a lecturer’s tone. “Here’s what I have been able to definitively discover. This thing is what one would commonly refer to as a vampire” he held up a hand to ward of the oncoming gasps of incredulity and protest, there were none. “Oh, anyway, as far as I can tell without proper lab equipment, the heart is the key. It only beats upon the ingestion of fresh blood resulting in a massive surge of adrenaline” the three observers peered into the opened chest of Mr Jenkins; the heart was exposed and still.
“Is he dead?” Jess asked nervously
“Yes, quite” Elliot answered, “Obviously you would normally expect the opening of a man’s chest to result in his death, but not in this case”
“You mean he was still alive after you cut him open” Eddie asked leaning in, his attention caught.
“Alive and somewhat kicking, the pain level should have been crippling, but he coped remarkably well. There was no blood in his system when I opened him up, and the heart was still. My first thought was the blood, owing to what we appear to be dealing with, so I gave him a little taste”
“A taste how?” Ghost instantly demanded with suspicion.
“Relax” Elliot waggled his fingers with the tips now sporting several small plasters. “I dropped a few drips into his mouth to start with, even with such a small amount his system went into overdrive. The heart sprung temporarily into life, pumping furiously”
“Cool” Eddie said as he leant in.
“The effect only lasted a few minutes; next I put a few drops directly onto the heart
itself and this led to much the same effect. The typical heart beats at around 72 per minute, during exercise or high levels of stress it will get up to between 160 and 180. I timed our friend here at over 500. Adrenaline, also called epinephrine, is a hormone which is secreted by your adrenal glands. The glands sit on top of each of your kidneys. Adrenaline in your bloodstream achieves its effects on your heart rate by stimulating the adrenergic receptors on cells throughout your heart tissue. Once stimulated, these receptors pass the fight-or-flight message to a specialized type of protein called a G-protein. In turn, G-proteins stimulate other substances inside your cells that trigger a cascading alert effect”
“That all sound great doc, but how do we kill the things” Ghost asked succinctly.
“Simple, you destroy the heart”
“With a wooden stake” Jess asked, knowing the question would sound stupid but needing to know the answer, Eddie leaned in too for the answer.
“No” laughed Elliot, “I can’t speak as to the many and varied myths associated with the vampire, but I can put that one to bed. Ghost here dispatched one with a metal pole apparently, and I finished our friend here with a steak knife”
“Where do they come from?” Eddie enquired.
“Romania of course” Rybeck startled them all from behind, as he slipped silently into the room.
The house appeared dark and empty, but he knew better, the smell wafted from the building in waves of tantalizing trails that sang to his senses. They were in there; he could feel their heartbeats echoing through the night. It was a siren’s call that salivated; his orders were clear and their mission crystal. This was a retrieval operation, Ghost was to be taken alive at all costs and the others could be drained, but not turned. He could feel that Jenkins was no longer functioning, whatever Drake had done to him, had robbed the poor bastard of any coherent thought. Jenkins was an animal, he no longer spoke, only roamed the basement, endlessly pacing and snapping. He was glad that his mental faculties were still firmly intact, his intelligence was tantamount to his effectiveness.
