Dead Surround - The Julia Poe Vampire Chronicles

by Celis T. Rono

  Poe shrugged her shoulders.

  “Uh oh. You’re not going to pull one of your tricks on us, are you?” Before she could answer, 200

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  Morales hollered. “Maclemar. Michelle. Get over here quick.”

  “What’s wrong?” the Welshman asked. He took three giant steps to reach them with Michelle close behind.

  “Guys, don’t make this any harder,” entreated Poe who held up the palm of her hand to deflect any naysayers. She stood and made her way to the front.

  Penny doggedly followed her, and the pig in turn tailed the dog. Penny was smart enough to know that something was up.

  “Excuse me,” she said to Yawo who stood by Sarah. When he didn’t move she elbowed him out of the way and whispered something in the driver’s ear.

  “We’ve covered over ten miles, girl!” the bus driver exclaimed after a few whispered seconds.

  “There’s no way you’re going to make it there in one piece.

  “I run an average of six to seven miles a day, and I’m not even close to tired,” Poe said out loud, fully aware her friends were listening. She pulled at her lobeless ear in frustration. “Double that should be nothing.”

  “Right, but you’ve never tried sprinting in the dark, have you?” Maclemar butted in, making his way to the front. Excusing himself to Yawo who was bumped further back, he added, “Those are the nasty sods who want to have a go at your flesh. Your delicate blood is incidental to them.”

  “They’re slow. I can outrun them.”

  “Bloody hell you can, crazy benyw!” He took another step until he hovered over her.

  “Save me your Welsh compliments, Maclemar,”

  she said. “I’d go back for you, too, if you were stuck 201

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  in garlic land and weak from childbirth.” She was shaking.

  “I’m touched, truly,” Maclemar said with sincerity. He draped his large hand over his heart.

  “But I’m a little unnerved that you see me not as a strapping man, but as someone female-like capable of popping out babies.”

  The fisherman’s retort made more than a few snigger.

  “Now, now. Lay off the girl,” said Morales to the watchers-on. “She was only eight when they canceled school permanently. Poe didn’t get to sit through sex ed slide presentations replete with graphic pictures of gonorrhea and the birth canal.”

  Poe, when she thought about her comment, grinned. “I didn’t mean to say it that way, Maclemar.” She turned to the driver before she said any more silly things.

  “Miss, you’re going to need to let me off. The more you drive, the more I’d I have to walk. My friends need me. Trench and Newbitt are on their way. I’m more than a decent shot,” she said, not wanting to boast, but she had no choice. “Sometimes I can hit things with my eyes closed. Sister Ann, a friend of mine who’s dead now, said it was an intrinsic gift.”

  “We need you here then,” a woman about sixty years old said. “Especially with an infant on the bus.

  Anyway, they got that helicopter up there if worse comes to worse.”

  “Last I heard, the helicopter was smashed during the dreadful landing,” Poe sighed. “As for Piper, she’ll be alright with all of you here to protect her.”

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  Sarah shook her head and pursed her thin lips.

  Harried, she threw out, “Help me out here, people.

  I’m kinda busy driving.” She barely missed hitting an upturned truck.

  “Folks may have given up on the eight left on their own at the farmhouse to face those blood slavers, but I haven’t. I don’t believe in many things, but I believe in Plasmacore. It will help depose those fascist bloodsuckers that want to act like royalty, like blasted Count Dracula, with castles, Igors, and slaves.” Poe looked around at the green-faced humanity around her and made a fist. “I’m tired of asking. I’m going to get off this bus, stopped or not.”

  So angry to the point of salivating, Poe yanked the lever that opened the door and prepared to jump out.

  “Let her out,” a familiar voice said from the middle of the bus. Poe scanned for the person and located Jenna’s face looking impassive in the green haze of her night vision goggles. The woman had left Sainvire, and in some sick way, Poe’s headache disappeared. She had never been so glad in her life.

  Jenna didn’t speak again.

  “This is madness,” Maclemar uttered temperamentally. “Even with these bloody things on, your peripheral vision will be hampered.”

  Sarah sighed and stepped on the brake. “Alright.

  I think this is foolish and a waste of a good fighter.

  This group would be better served with you on our side. But good luck all the same. Remember not to make too much noise or flash a light of any kind.”

  “Appreciate it, miss.”

  “Can someone hand this to Poe?” Morales said from his seat as he tossed a roundish helmet to Yawo.

  “These are ANVIS-6 goggles. The helmet might look 203

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  like it came right off Luke Skywalker’s head, but it has perimeter control and it’s handsfree. Plus it might protect that stubborn noggin of yours. I got it on good authority that fighter pilots wore them in battle.”

  “Thanks, Morales,” Poe said sincerely. Sarah pulled the old goggles off and placed the new night vision contraption on Poe’s aching head. “This thing is heavy but an improvement to my old gear.”

  “Don’t thank me, loca girl,” Morales harrumphed. “You can thank Sainvire. He told me to hit you over the head every hour. But too bad, I was busy. Seems he pegged you right that you’d pull a stunt like this when you came to, but was he was hoping we’d have put miles behind us by then. So there’s nothing more to say. Just make sure to keep that helmet tight on your head.”

  “Yeah, I will. Thanks. Look after my little godchild.” She turned to her dog. “Penny, you stay here and take care of Chops,” she said to the dog while patting her head. “You’re my bestest dog, and I’ll be back for you.”

  Poe saluted to the driver and stepped down from the bus. The dog, not wanting to be left behind, followed.

  “Wait, Poe, I’m going, too,” Maclemar declared.

  He ran to the back of the bus to retrieve his things.

  “No you’re not, Welshman. You’re staying with these people,” Poe shouted. She began to run just in case Maclemar and others decided to tag along. “I’ll come looking for you, Maclemar. You promised to take me back to West L.A., and I aim to take you up on that.” She heard the rumble of the engine as the bus drove away. She stopped to look back only to see the face of Maclemar staring out the back window.

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  

  “Pad Thai, lasagna, clam chowder, garlic bread, chicken tikka masala,” Poe recited to keep the darkness from overwhelming her. Terror latched onto her body like half-starved cattle. She reached back into her memory until the names of her favorite food fell from her lips like lyrics to soothe the mind. “Are you getting hungry yet, Pen?” she asked as she looked down briefly at the loyal dog keeping pace.

  “Adobo, zereshk polo, bibimbap, udon and soba noodles, In-N-Out burgers, fresh cut Islands fries,”

  she said. She slowed down and took a swig of water.

  Once the water bottle had been replaced in the netting outside her pack, Poe pulled out a second gun from her thigh holster. It was a homemade 9mm automatic pistol with a silencer. She picked up the pace to a moderate run.

  “Whoever said they’re not afraid of the dark is full of yak shit,” Poe muttered as she jogged cautiously around a jackknifed truck. Her vision enhancer goggles showed a skeleton hugging the steering wheel.

  He said he loved me right before he popped me over the head. Did he mean it?

  Heat still emanated from the asphalt regardless of the drop in temperature. She was soaked under the Kevla
r and hooded jacket. It was too warm a night to be so bundled up.

  Don’t go too fast. You might step on something unpleasant, the voice in her mind said bossily. You’ll need to protect your ankles or you’re dead meat.

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  There’s no Morales or Maclemar to carry you. Or a Sainvire to give you a lift.

  “Please, Mom and Dad, let our side be alright,”

  she prayed for the umpteeth time to the only deities she believed in. “Trench and Newbitt can’t win. They just can’t.”

  The hooting of an owl interrupted her prayer and startled her enough to examine the sparse trees along side the road. She missed tripping on a tubular tip of a muffler peeking out behind weeds that sprouted from crags on the road. A shot fired accidentally as Poe tried to stop her fall with the hand that held the Sig Sauer without a silencer. The booming sound that echoed in the warm night nearly stopped her heart.

  Penny whined.

  “Oh no,” she croaked. “I hope nobody heard that.”

  Shaking the dust from the knees of her pants, Poe started running. She paced herself to not get too fatigued in preparation for whatever the blasted gunshot would bring.

  “Yes, I should’ve stayed to look out for Piper.

  And yes, this a nasty suicide mission where I’ll be the main dish, extra rare,” she told the green darkness.

  “I’m so sorry, Penny,” she said and bent down to pet the wiry terrier mutt. There was movement ahead.

  She zoomed in at the line of field mice crossing the road and shivered.

  “Eesh! Mice.” Her ears were hot, and her vital signs unstable. Think of something to keep your mind occupied. Think of dessert.

  “Sticky rice with mango, pumpkin pancakes, marmalade crepes, sticky toffee pudding, warm pecan pie with a dollop of vanilla bean ice cream, 206

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  Hof’s Hut chocolate wipeout cake, Big Man Bakes red velvet cupcakes.”

  She saw the first one dragging his bum leg behind him along the grassy road side. Even in green the Revenent looked positively fiendish with hollowed eyes and a scarecrow gait. Keep running.

  He can’t catch up. You were thinking of dessert.

  “Dessert? Are you kidding me?” muttered Poe.

  “I can’t think of food right now.” She spotted two more Revs ahead, a female and a child walking achingly slow.

  The cretins must plant themselves within easy reach of the road, the voice in her head mused. Your hands are shaking. Quit it. Keep your mind busy.

  There were more than a handful of them now pouring out from the countryside. And the Revenents had spotted her. Remember, don’t shoot. It’ll attract more of them. Plus you don’t want to waste your bullets. You’ll need them at the farmhouse. Poe resheathed one of her guns and picked up a crooked branch thick and long enough to inflict damage.

  “Where are they coming from?” Poe complained to Penny as she caught sight of more Revenents.

  “When did these things start popping up? I don’t remember seeing even one before on the Pacheco Pass.”

  Focus! Give me the names of actors who played Sherlock Holmes!

  “Um, there’s a—” Poe swung left to avoid a creature squirming itself out of a banged up Camaro.

  “There’s Michael Caine and um, Vasily Livanov, Basil Rathbone, Ronald Howard. Oh shit!” Poe screamed, kicking the walking beef jerky that came from her blindside. She let out a shaky breath and 207

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  looked down at the corpse with a broken hip still wiggling about thanks to a combination of Muay Thai kicks. “And let that be a lesson to you!”

  She surveyed the area with a quick 360-degree turn. She urgently returned to a run, this time faster than usual. Penny bared her fangs.

  “Um, there’s Geoffrey Whitehead, Peter Cushing, and that kid – what’s his name – James D’Arcy.” Poe slowed down. “Where are they all coming from?”

  There were over twenty Revenents looking like they were having a circle of togetherness. Some were too busy to notice her. A curious Poe swung a leg up the hood of a station wagon and climbed up to the roof. Penny whined in concern, and her tail withdrew between her legs.

  “Oh no,” escaped from her lips. The green screen showed Revs picking apart the remains of a deer.

  “That must’ve been the animal we hit. Oh shit!”

  A skeletal hand clasped an ankle from behind her and was tugging hard to pull her down. Penny chomped down at the Revenent’s foot until her companion was freed. The noise drew the attention of the Revs outside of the circle, the ones with no access to deer meat. Slowly they made their way to Poe by walking like the zombies in the Thriller video.

  “Fuck this!” Poe cried. She jumped on the Rev’s shoulder until it was reduced to nothing more than an accordion of bones when it hit the ground. She dodged, ducked, and skidded to avoid the outstretched hands that tried to grab her, running like the mouth of hell was opening wider behind her.

  “Penny, please keep up with me!”

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  Calm down or you won’t be able to think. There might be more of them out there! Finish off your list.

  “Right. Right,” she said, and she exhaled shakily to slow her breathing. “There’s Douglass Wilmer.

  And of course, hands down the best Sherlock Holmes there ever was, Jeremy Brett!”

  Then she couldn’t speak anymore. Ahead of her was a procession of twitching limbs and trembling necks too emaciated to carry their own skulls, and one or two crawling baby spawn beating the Revs to the finish line. They had surfaced for the deer and perhaps incidentally to investigate the gun shot. Or they had been sent ahead like robots to sweep the roads. No matter. The rascally bunch had seen her.

  She and her dog would have to walk the line of fire.

  

  “This is like a patchy soccer match,” stated Poe.

  “One person against the bleacher crowd.”

  Poe took a deep swig of water. “Sorry, Pen. No water bowl for you.” Holstering the Walther PPK and gripping a piece of wood, Poe charged through the horde and whacked away. She hit brittle bone. She had no choice but to part the Red Sea so she could reach the other side. The terrier attacked ankles and baby arms mutely. Poe herded them toward the middle of the road then veered to the far right where activity was thin. If they could just avoid creatures popping up from the side, they would be fine. Her own intermittent breathing rankled her ears.

  You were sitting on a goldmine of vampire diuretic, and you didn’t bottle it up? the angry voice in her head complained.

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  Poe sniffed. She was mighty disappointed with herself. What was she thinking by not replenishing her spray bottles with garlic marinade?

  You’re too busy lusting after a vampire and a man, that’s what. But getting back to the subject at hand, maybe this area is bleeding corpses because it’s the demarcation line between garlic territory and the no-smell zone.

  “I hope so. A couple more miles and it’ll start stinking like garlic, and they’ll be off our tail,” she tried to appease the voice. “I’ll get us there, but just keep off the subject of Maclemar and Sainvire,” she said abrasively as she clubbed the nearest Rev in the neck. “If I want to lust after them, then I will. I don’t have much time to live, and I aim to think about the top men in my harem.”

  She pointed the Walther PPK at a Revenent that was light on his feet and blasted his head off. Besides the tripping accident it was her second bullet of the evening. “Down you go. Pen, you okay?” The dog looked up at Poe and whined.

  More sounds of gunfire shattered the quiet of the night and dissipated all thoughts of harems. “Shit.

  No. Please don’t let it be Maclemar,” prayed Poe to her parents. “I hope the dumb Welshman didn’t follow me.”

  She looked back at all the Revs she’d clubbed out of her way for wh
at seemed like hours. The thought of crossing paths again made her knees shake. Another shot rang. The dog whimpered as if knowing what her human friend was considering.

  “There’s no way they’re killing one of my boys!” Adjusting the stick to a more comfortable grip, Poe turned back and charged.

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  It was surprisingly easy to run back. The Revs, nothing but reeking bones and leathery skin, had given up trying to catch her and headed like automatons to where the shots originated. Poe aimed for knees and necks. “They’ll be crawling.”

  She thought of Maclemar and shivered. Poe was attached to him for good or bad. “We have unfinished business together, Welshman, so hang on!”

  

  “Sorry for dragging you into this,” Maclemar said as he swung a tire iron at the same Revenent he’d hit three times. The creature just wouldn’t stay down.

  Since disembarking from the bus, Maclemar had almost regretted his decision to go after Poe.

  “It was my decision to tag along, man. So you’re absolved from guilt,” Michelle said. She hacked tirelessly with her axe at the bodies that came at them. “Just thank your stars I brought this limited edition Gimli broadaxe along.”

  “Right. I thought I recognized the Elvish on your scabbard,” he grunted while stomping the face of the tenacious little fiend.

  “Fuck that, Maclemar. Your ignorance is glaring for being a countryman of Tolkien. It’s written in Dwarvish. Can’t you tell the difference?”

  “Maybe by the fires of Moria,” he said unenthusiastically. “There’re more of them by the second. Slow or not, we better get out of here before they block us in completely.”

  She walked in sweeping strides to keep pace with Maclemar. “I think they heard the shots I fired back 211

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  there, and they got curious. I should slice off my left one for that blunder.”

  Maclemar winced at the woman’s mouth not for the first time that evening. Her vulgarity, though interesting, hurt the ears. “Right. I’d a done the same thing myself if something jumped at me with deer stomach hanging from its mouth. Let’s just fend off these accursed arse nutters and find Poe. And mind the muffler by the weeds there.”