Dead Surround - The Julia Poe Vampire Chronicles

by Celis T. Rono

“Why should you care so much?” she asked tensely, glaring into his black-rimmed gray eyes that seemed to smolder in the half-light.

  “It’s the same reason I hear your heart pounding like a locomotive whenever you’re around, Julia,” he said wanly. “I care about you as much as you care about me.”

  Poe, taken aback, shook her head.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Think what you will, Julia. The brief time we spent together has sustained me and kept me from 188

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  losing it. If you think I’d rather be in the company of ex-cattle that fear me than in your arms, you really don’t know me at all.”

  “Be quiet! The woman you’ve replaced me with so quickly can hear us!”

  “She can’t. She doesn’t have my ability to hear from far way,” he said quietly. “She’s been a friend for a long time, and occasionally we sleep together to tone down the pressure of these times.”

  “Like I said, the woman loves you,” said Poe, remembering the tortured vampire she left in the sitting room.

  “Jenna knows how I feel about you,” he said quietly. “I’ve been upfront from the very beginning.

  You ought to know by now when I’m telling the truth.”

  “What? I don’t know you at all!” she burst out.

  “We’ve only been in each other’s company a little more than ten days total. I delude myself by saying I’m in love with you, but what do I know about it?

  Maybe I’ve confused three pleasurable sexual couplings in one day as love. Who knows?”

  “Stranger things have happened,” he said while looking intently at Poe.

  “Well let me tell you though, Sainvire. There’s no way a refined idealist vampire like you can fall for an ignorant, scarred, and coarse girl like me. It would be like Cary Grant going ga-ga over the uglies in Mike Leigh films.”

  “For someone so strong and together, you sure have low self-esteem when it comes to your appearance,” he said furiously. “Have you looked at yourself lately, I mean really looked at yourself?

  After a couple days you’ve got Maclemar drooling 189

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  over you. He’s a good looking man, so it’s fair to say he could have any woman or vampire in this camp.

  Does he take advantage? I don’t think so. You know why?” he asked, bringing his heated face inches from Poe’s. “Well?”

  “No, you dick, I don’t!”

  “Because you’re a goddamn beautiful woman with muscles and brain to match,” he said a little less harshly. “Scars only add to your appeal because you’re a damn survivor. And really, scars or not, who’d object with a body like yours?”

  His face was so close she could almost feel the dead coolness of his skin. Her hand, still imprisoned in his, would not be dislodged.

  “Let go, or I’ll beat the shit out of you,” she threatened as a last resort.

  Fully cognitive of what Sainvire was about to do, Poe closed her eyes when he dipped his mouth into hers. His generous mouth left her shivery while his cold tongue coaxed itself into her tightly shut lips. He gave her goosebumps that led to a sigh which paved the way for a fully realized kiss. Like Maclemar, Sainvire’s skill was devastating but in a quite different way. His cold lips were familiar and wonderful and had been part of her dreams for months on end.

  She didn’t know when he released her hand, but she discovered later that it had snaked around his neck on its own volition. His arms twined around her waist to bring her closer to him.

  “Stop. Jenna—” Poe said breathlessly. She led his hand away from where it explored under her shirt.

  “This sex thing won’t get me on the bus tonight, you know. I’m staying because my friend asked me to.”

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  He tightened his hold on her waist and traced the round firmness of her behind. “Let’s not talk about this. We only have a few hours together.” Savoring her, he traced a trail of kisses from her neck to the makeshift vee of her shirt. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long it’s become an ache. When I saw you with Maclemar, I nearly tore his throat out.”

  “Was that why you interrupted our encounter?”

  she asked irately.

  Sainvire shrugged. “Even a vampire like me can get jealous, sweetheart.”

  “You’re just gonna have to keep your libido and jealousies in check, Sainvire,” said Poe. She struggled out of his embrace. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. “I need you to let me inside the armory, the little closet downstairs.”

  The Y-shaped vein on his the edge of his forehead throbbed like the rest of his body. His dark mood could not be hidden by the shadows of the attic, but he didn’t break his silence.

  “Look, Sainvire. As much as I want to be kissed by you all over, there’s this thing called fear that’s taken over my lust. I want to survive. I want the people I love to make it. I want to see that the baby has a mom to raise him,” she said. She trembled.

  Standing on her toes, Poe kissed Sainvire on the mouth for ages.

  “We’ll settle this thing between us later,” she said in a husky voice. “Now please, show me to the gun room.”

  

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  There wasn’t much of a selection left. The little closet had a crate of bullets heavily saturated in garlic oil, a couple dozen Kevlar vests, assorted knives, and a few double-barreled shotguns. The firearms were limited to Smith & Wesson revolvers, heavy as hell with an afterbite.

  “This is it?” Poe asked. She was flabbergasted.

  “Afraid so,” Sainvire answered, his face inscrutable. “Take what you need.”

  “Do you have any more clips?”

  Sainvire pulled from under the vests a square cookie tin stocked with over twenty magazines.

  “Take as many as you want. Everything’s been distributed. Get some for Maclemar, too. He might need it in case the bus is attacked. Some of the folks riding with you have terrible eye-hand coordination.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not getting on that bus,” said Poe. She felt like they were saying a final goodbye.

  She filled the clips with the strongest and most damaging hollow-point, spitzer, and lead-ensconced bullets, stuffing as many as she could in her pack.

  While she rifled through the arsenal, Sainvire excused himself then promptly reappeared.

  “This might come in handy,” he said as he handed her a Calico 9mm. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you.”

  “What is it, a sub-machine gun?” Poe asked with awe in her voice. The twenty-inch, double-grip firearm looked like a throwback from old World War II movie props.

  “I think it’s a Para pistol. This thing holds up to a hundred rounds, but once you’re out of bullets, chuck it,” he said pensively. “It’s hell to reload. Also, this thing is for ambidextrous shooters like you. If you 192

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  hold the grip too close to the trigger guard, there’s a danger ejected cases will burn and damage your palm. Aside from being unpredictable, this gun should be useful to you.”

  “Maybe you’ll need it more than me,” she said.

  Her brown eyes were huge.

  “If you can’t fly and puncture metal with your nails, then you’ll need it more than me,” he said with a smile. “Don’t worry. I have my own stash in my room.”

  “Much obliged then,” she said. “Does this mean you’re not going to force me to go?”

  “Guess so,” he sighed with exaggeration.

  “You need to relax, man,” Poe said. She shook her head then added with a grin, “Can’t you tell I’m not going to live that long?”

  Sainvire’s face darkened. He didn’t like Poe’s lighthearted attempt at a joke. “Do you and Maclemar already have Kevlar?”

  “He does. From Jorge.”

  “Ah. I better find one that fits you,” he said, rifling through the vests. When he found a
small one, he insisted she put it on without delay.

  “Isn’t it a little early for this, not to mention hot?”

  “It’s never too early for extra protection. As for the weather, it will cool down soon enough.” Without much of a choice Poe donned the vest with Sainvire’s help.

  “Maybe you should wear your hooded sweatshirt over this vest. It will fend off the apprehension among the last batch.”

  “Satisfied now?” she asked peevishly after zipping up her black hoody.

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  “Very,” he nodded.

  “Just do me one more favor, Poe,” he said. “Try not to die.”

  “I’ll try to avoid it as much as possible,” she said acerbically. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Just one.” He traced the scar on her face with his index finger. “I love you.”

  With a what-the-fuck look Poe crumpled to the ground, unconscious from the blow to the back of the head. The vampire had clunked her skull with a rock hard fist.

  “And because I feel that strongly about you, I’m not going to let you die,” he said, finishing his thought.

  Carefully he lifted her inert form and her pack and deposited her to the nearest unoccupied room.

  “Such a small thing,” he mumbled and glanced down her face. “Yet the amount of damage you can do is staggering.”

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  CHAPTER 8

  DEAD HEADLIGHTS ILLUMINATED NOTHING. The school bus hummed and rumbled in the dark, occasionally squashing debris and indiscriminately mashing the odd creatures that crossed the road. The vehicle, painted black, narrowly circumvented thrashing its third bumper soldered by Maclemar for extra protection. Though crooked and rusty, the harmless metal could puncture tires and kick-start headaches to those aboard the yellow bus. The driver, a vampire named Sarah, did manage to mow down a Revenent wearing a tattered evening gown to the delight of extremely tense passengers.

  “Good one, Sarah,” a twitchy man from the back complemented. Like most of the passengers, he draped a protective arm around a crate. His contained three miserable chickens deprived of sleep. Others held rope leashes latched to the neck of small goats that smelled as pleasant as foot fungus.

  Wearing high-quality image intensifier night vision goggles, Sarah was able to sideswipe a grime-faced undead, half-raving from starvation. The tattered beings seemed to pour out of the countryside.

  No human traveled the Pacheco Pass much anymore.

  “Shit,” exclaimed Yawo, the co-driver and companion of Sarah for the past two years. His thick Ghanaian accent became more congealed as the 195

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  minutes ticked by. He, too, wore special goggles to see in the dark as did most of the passengers on the bus. “We’ve only been on the road for a little over an hour, and already two unfortunates have become road kill. That is sass if I ever saw it,” he said with pride.

  “That’s right, baby,” said Sarah. She patted his cheek and concentrated on the road beleaguered with decrepit cars. The countryside congestion was nothing compared to city traffic, however. Ed, the supervampire who could lift a three-ton boulder, had taken weeks to clear enough space for a bus without being too obvious. “Just keep your eyes peeled for me, and we’ll be okay. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

  “Ahem. That would be three pairs if you count this old man,” piped in John Danby who sat in the front passenger row with a calico cat curled on his lap. Goggles that gave him the look of a fly rested on his nose.

  Sainvire had insisted they carry a pair along with an emergency travel kit at all times. The kit included two sets of guns, a few boxes of cartridges, a Kevlar vest, and food and water rations. After the raids had become more frequent with ex-cattle getting abducted and killed like game during the evening hours, each man and woman had to be taught basic self-defense. Sainvire decreed that his vampires were to ransack police stations and military outposts and bring in weapons and artillery to outfit the humans under their care.

  Sarah laughed a little self-consciously. “Sorry, John. Of course I’ll need all the help I can get.” The pretty, pear-shaped driver was winding around an RV

  when the old lawyer and Muhammad Ali fan shouted, 196

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  “Deer! Watch out!”

  It couldn’t be avoided. The bus slammed into the animal barely sprouting antlers that rolled noisily under the tires at the same time Sarah hit the brakes.

  Like most older school buses, seatbelts had not been installed. The heads of the passengers kissed the seatbacks in front of them before inertia hurled them to their seats. Those asleep near the aisle ended up tasting metal floor.

  “Everyone alright?” Sarah asked as the last thud of tires rolled over the carcass of the animal.

  Angry groans filled the bus. But having traveled in the dead of night every three to four weeks for the last couple of years had toughened hides. The passengers quickly settled down.

  Except for Poe, certain animals, and an infant.

  Poe pitched forward from the cozy spot between Maclemar’s arm and shoulder. She dove head-first onto the metal aisle of the bus with a clang. A crescendo of clucking, bleating, meowing, oinking, and screaming became the symphonic soundtrack of the moment. Maclemar and Michelle, who had flanked her while she slept on the unsegmented couch in the last row, helped her up as soon as the bus settled down.

  “Ouch,” Poe cried, and she palmed her injured forehead. Running her tongue on her teeth and touching her nose for anything broken, she stood up.

  The sound of wailing drilled into her head, and it was the only sound that frenzily continued. “Shit.”

  “Poe, are you alright?” asked Maclemar. He rubbed her back to calm her.

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  “Maclemar?” she said, holding onto his waist.

  “Can you turn on the lights, please? I think I’m gonna hurl.”

  “You better not!” someone threatened from her right over the din of crying.

  “Who the hell was that? Is that Megan’s baby?

  Where’s my guns?” she asked in succession out of nervousness. She could hear someone singing a dead-on imitation of Frank Sinatra. “Is that Morales?” she asked softly to no one in particular.

  Someone squeezed her arm gently and said,

  “Here, Poe. I got your goggles from your pack. I’m going to slide then over your head.”

  “Michelle?” Poe shook her head, fighting the urge to hyperventilate. The darkness and crying were eating her up. “I think I’m dizzy.” She ignored the pain caused by the elastic as it touched lumps on her forehead and the back of her head.

  From the abyss of darkness came phosphorous-green reception. Faces like insects stared at her from their seats. Some looked grim. A few smiled. Certain ones waved.

  “Why don’t you sit down, dear?” a wrinkled woman by the window suggested nicely. “So we can mosey on.”

  As soon as Poe sat down, Sarah resumed driving.

  “The son of a bitch clobbered me,” Poe said. She gritted her teeth. Michelle handed her knives and guns to be sheathed in various holsters on her wrists, ankles, waist, and across her shoulders. “How long have we been driving?”

  “A little over an hour,” answered Michelle.

  Poe turned to look at Maclemar who remained unusually quiet. “How long was I out?”

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  “Three, maybe four hours,” he said staidly. “He asked me to tell you he’s sorry and that Megan’s glad to know you’ll protect her child.”

  Opening a bottle of acetaminophen, Poe popped five tablets and swished them down with water.

  “They both sound as if they’re going to die tonight,”

  she said with a frown. “Any of you got a candy bar?”

  “I do,” piped in the voice of Percy who was two rows up to the left. She pulled out a bar from her Eeyore bag and scrambled toward P
oe. Night goggles ate up three-quarters of her face.

  “Twix. My very favorite,” Poe said in a low voice melting with indebtedness. With the kid looking on, the vampire hunter wolfed down the candy bar alive with living protein. “Hey Percy, can you do me the biggest of favors?”

  “Anything, Poe,” the girl said with complete devotion that almost embarrassed Poe.

  “Can you help Maclemar look after Penny and Chops?”

  “Of course,” Percy said in a high-pitched voice.

  “I’ll look after them good.”

  “Thanks, Percy. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  She watched the girl go back to her seat.

  “What do you mean by that, Sharren?”

  Maclemar asked. He clamped a heavy hand on her shoulder.

  “Nothing, Darren,” she answered glibly. After another swig of water she swung her pack on her back and followed Morales’ voice that continued to sing to the crying infant.

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  “Hey look, little Piper,” said Morales. He smiled at Poe and patted the seat next to him. “Here comes your Tia Poe. Come say hello.”

  Habib, who parked in the seat behind Morales, handed Poe a bottle. “Maybe she’s ready to eat now.”

  “Go ahead, place it in her mouth,” guided the baby’s other daddy.

  Poe looked at the shriveled little phosphorescent green troll in the dark and smiled. “Cute little thing. I hope her looks improve in the daylight hours, though.”

  “Don’t make me pinch you, Poe,” said an offended Morales. He took the milk from her and placed it gently in the infant’s tiny lips. “Megan said to make you godmother. I’ll have to veto her orders if you’re going to give Piper a complex this early in life.”

  “I was just kidding,” Poe explained as she watched the nipple jerk away from Piper’s mouth after the bus galloped over a pothole. “So Megan really said I could be her godmother?”

  “It was Joseph’s idea, but the little redhead took to it right away.”

  “Wow. That’s something, isn’t it? Are you the godfather then?”

  “Yup,” he said with pride.

  “What color’s her hair?”

  “Green,” he said as he secured the nipple in the baby’s mouth. “Why do you have your pack on? Did I just hear you ask Percy to babysit your pets?”