Monster Vice

by George P. Saunders

  Gastroni and Colonel Kellog hold their ground, watching the tsunami of fang-pox move ever closer.

  I glance absently for a moment around the hangers and the runways. I notice small sprigs of metal that rise out of the asphalt. I do not make an immediate connection, but there is something about those sprigs … something …

  “Oh, shit!” It finally comes to me.

  I yell out to Gastroni.

  “Father Gastroni!”

  The old priest turns to me.

  “The sprinkler system. It should still be operational!” I cry out to him, shouting over the din of wings getting closer and closer.

  Dracula and Gastroni scan the system sprigs in the asphalt – a failsafe mechanism to any potential fire hazard on the airfield – and look back to me.

  “Bless the system!” I yell to Gastroni.

  “Bless it?”

  “Yes! Then we’ll activate the sprinklers. It’ll be Holy Water fallout for a hundred yards in all directions!”

  “How do we activate them?” Dracula says.

  “We’ll need a fire!”

  “How the hell do we start a fire?” Colonel Kellog snaps at me. “We’re kinda running out of time.”

  Dracula puts his hand on Kellog’s shoulder. “I’ll handle that.” He nods to Gastroni, who reaches into his jacket, and takes out his cross, and kneels. He puts his hand on one of the sprinklers.

  “Holy father, with this cross, I bless your instruments of destruction against these god-awful apostates from an angry and vengeful demon. Allow your water to purify and screw these sons of bitches from here to hell and back. Amen.”

  Jennifer giggles, and turns to me. “He’s a potty-mouth priest. I like that.”

  At the moment, so do I.

  The cloud of fangs are about twenty seconds away from touchdown.

  It is at this moment that Dracula turns himself into a ball of flame.

  * * *

  Y’know … it’s a handy thing being a vampire sometimes. So I believe right this moment. You can turn yourself into neat things like bats or wolves or crows. You can transmogrify into mist.

  And on occasion … you can turn into the Human Torch.

  Dracula is now a swirling pinwheel of flame, and he wastes no time in hovering over water sprinklers. The response is near instantaneous. Water geysers upward like a pyroclastic cloud from an erupting volcano. Within moments, after triggering some twenty sprinklers, the air is lousy with holy water.

  Good for us.

  Very, very bad for the descending army of vampires, already too close to retreat back into the sky.

  The screams are loud, infernal and ululating, as vampire flesh literally melts and dissolves in mid-air. Gastroni and Kellog run for shelter, lest they are deluged by pounds and pounds of molten fang flesh. The stench is indescribable, the sounds of extinction deafening.

  “Smells like poo-poo,” Jennifer grimaces, watching the rain of vampire gunk pour from the skies.

  Dracula has resumed corporeal form, and he walks casually toward Gastroni and Kellog, now under a protective overhang from the hanger. He is being deluged with flesh and no doubt some attendant holy water – his own flesh steams and blotches, yet he shows no pain, no discomfort. Yet I know that holy water is agonizing for vampires. I marvel at his control, his discipline. The guy fucking amazes me.

  The geysers spray upwards of forty feet. I’m guessing at least a hundred fangs are wasted inside of a few seconds. More die in seconds thereafter. Finally, a general retreat seems to be in the offing, as the wing-flap dissipates and all that is heard is the steaming hissing of melted vampire corpse-stuff on the tarmac.

  I look to Samantha.

  “It’s time to go home, Sam.”

  Samantha studies my hands, and reaches out her own bloody hands, caressing my useless wrists. “Poor Dick.”

  Dracula approaches us, gives Jennifer’s head a rub as she smiles, then looks to both Samantha and myself.

  “Kellog, Gastroni and myself are going to do a five minute perimeter check of this airfield. I doubt anything is around that wants to fight. They’re in hiding now, licking their wounds.”

  I nod. “We’ll wait here.”

  Dracula moves off with Gastroni and Kellog.

  I move out of the utility shed and look at the landscape around me. It’s a sea of molten tissue. Jennifer stands at my side.

  “I’m hungry,” she says.

  Now I’m barely repressing the urge to purge with the stench floating through the air, but my little Jennifer is ready for a snack. I continue to be amazed by Mirabelle’s daughter.

  “We’ll grab some fast-food on the way back to the house,” I say.

  This seems to satisfy Jennifer as she wanders into the morass of fang felch stretching out to the horizon.

  And then I see the shadow.

  I turn suddenly. The vampire came out of nowhere, probably got lucky and was hiding out in the hanger. It holds a long pipe with a jagged end. It’s interest lies not with me. It is charging now for Samantha, who is at the utility shed’s entrance. She has crawled there to look out at the airfield.

  I scream.

  “Sam, look out!”

  The vampire charges, using the pipe as a lance.

  I don’t think. I dive in the path of the charging vampire.

  The pipe rams deep into my chest, and there is a white hot fire that ripples through my entire body.

  I simultaneously hear gunshots, see the vampire’s head explode, hear Sam screaming, her own screams commingled with those of Jennifer … and then the world goes dark.

  As I fall, I feel oddly peaceful.

  I figure very quickly that when I wake up, I’ll be dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes in the span of a single second. Yet within that second, the memories of years rockets to the fore of your soul and allows you to relive those defining moments of existence, some good, some bad, some happy, some sad – as if they were being relived once again in bright, visceral Technicolor.

  That’s what they say.

  For me, it is slightly different.

  The world goes black, but then I am conscious literally four seconds later, my face splattered in steaming vampire death-placenta. Some of the crap is in my mouth. And yes, lest we not forget, the pain in my chest is fucking monstrous.

  I am aware of Jennifer pulling at the rusty pipe, which hurts even more. Nevertheless, I see that she is able to extricate it with a good, solid jerk outwards. Samantha is cradling my head with her bloody hands. I look to her, see that she is on her side, as her legs are still broken, but she is still able to angle her body on the ground sufficient to comfort me.

  As the world spins, spins, spins, I am suddenly aware of Dracula, Kellog and Gastroni, now around me, all talking at once.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here –“

  “Gotta get him back to the car –“

  “I’ll carry Samantha, Colonel, you and the Father Gastroni pick up Dick –“

  “Don’t die, Dick, please, you promised –“ (this last plea from Jennifer, who through blurred vision, I see is sobbing).

  And then the world mists in and out of darkness, my universe for the moment only catching sounds, and discerning movement – that is to say, my body being lifted roughly up and crated to the Esplanade.

  It seems I close my eyes for only a second, but when I open them, I am in a bed. Dracula leans over me, but I am not sure what he is doing; behind him is Father Gastroni. Someone is holding my broken left wrist, and I turn slowly to see that it is Jennifer.

  “We’re fixing you up,” Jennifer smiles. “Dracula says you’ll be good to go in a few hours.”

  A few hours?

  I chalk up Jennifer’s unrealistic enthusiasm for my survival to childish hope and longing. I feel enormous remorse and pity for her. She does not know that the pipe lacerated my lungs and probably even pierced my heart. One doesn’t survive that ki
nd of impaling and live. I know that I am dying and I am not afraid. I am vaguely annoyed that Dracula, or Father Gastroni, has not been more forthright with my little Jennifer. To build a little girl’s hopes up for the impossible … no, it’s not right.

  But I am too weak to protest, and again close my eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  When I awaken I feel distinct surprise.

  More than that … I feel astonishment. For the pain in my chest has degraded well by half.

  “What the fuck?”

  No one is around to hear my baffled query.

  I look down to my chest, which is wrapped. I then look to my wrists, which are also wrapped in swaddling of sorts.

  I do not understand.

  I don’t feel bad at all … and I do not understand.

  The door to my room opens, and Samantha walks in, using a cane.

  My vision is no longer blurred, and my fever has broken. I try to take a breath, expecting an agonized, labored experience of congestion and blood. But my respiration seems normal.

  I do not understand.

  Samantha walks in and puts her hand on my chest.

  “How do you feel, Dick?”

  I shrug. “I … okay, I guess.”

  She smiles.

  And I have to ask. “How come I’m not dead?”

  “You were healed, Dick. Simple as that.”

  “Healed?”

  “Fixed up, as Jennifer put it,” Samantha pulls over a chair, and sits down.

  I stare at her, amazed. A short while ago, Samantha’s legs were broken, of this I was sure, and I’m willing to bet my nuts on the probability that her spinal cord had been severed as well. Now she was walking around with the aid of a cane, as if perhaps she had suffered only a mild sprain.

  “How long … how long since we got back?” I whisper.

  “It’s late morning now. We got back to the house at around midnight. So, almost ten hours.”

  “Ten hours.”

  She looks to the windows, boarded up. “Sorry about the windows being closed. But it is daylight, you know, and we vampires have this thing about the sun.”

  I smile and nod. “So I’ve been told.”

  She nods. Then rubs my chest gently. “You saved my life, Dick. Thank you.”

  “Samantha, I –“

  “Throughout the centuries, no one has ever tried to save my life. You showed self-sacrifice. You offered yourself to die in my place.”

  “Well …”

  And then Samantha leans in and kisses me. A long, luxurious kiss which is instantly intoxicating. Her lips are soft, her scent is gentle, and her touch is electric to my soul. When she pulls back, she wipes a strand of hair out of my eyes.

  “I love you, Dick,” she says softly.

  I want to reply … but I find myself merely becoming lost in her gaze, in those warm, ancient eyes that seem more like eyes of a winsome teen-ager.

  But I realize in that moment that I love Samantha. In fact, I know that I have been in love with her from the very first moment we met. I am about to tell her this, but suddenly Jennifer comes bounding through the door.

  “Dick!”

  She leans in and splatters kisses on my face and forehead. I find myself laughing.

  “Okay, stop, stop. I get the message, you’re happy I’m not dead.”

  Jennifer suddenly swats my shoulder, though not hard. “Almost bit the big one, Dick.”

  “Who shot the vampire that nailed me?” I am suddenly curious.

  “That was Colonel Kellog,” Samantha replies. “He made the shot from fifty yards away. He’s very full of himself. Can’t stop talking about the fifty footer he took with his sniper rifle.”

  “I’m glad I made his day,” I sigh.

  I look down at my wrists dejectedly. “Boy, these puppies still hurt.”

  “It won’t last for long. Maybe a few days. The smaller bones take longer to heal. Internal organs, like lungs, hearts, they reconstitute much faster, and –“

  She stops as I stare at her with clear confusion.

  “Well, never mind that for now,” she says, and then winks at Jennifer. Jennifer toodles out of my room, as Samantha again kisses me and whispers. “I am your official nurse, Dick Pitts. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Nurse away,” I smile. But a shadow looms in my mind quite suddenly.

  “The Grand Master,” I mutter.

  “Yes, he’s still out there. And in a good deal of pain from what I understand. Thanks to our little Jennifer.”

  “We have to find him. Destroy him.”

  “Yes, in time. For now, though … you and I must continue to heal. Or we won’t be of use to anyone.”

  Jennifer returns now, pushing a small cart, with a bowl and sponges on top of a turntable.

  “Bath time,” Samantha says, smiling.

  I smile back, but then I remember something about the word ‘reconstitution.’

  “Sam, your back was broken. I know your legs were broken as well. And your hands are completely healed. Is this a vampire thing?”

  Samantha nods, dipping the sponge into a small bowl, while Jennifer sits in a chair and watches her prepare to bathe the big, dirty cop.

  “Yes, vampires heal at an accelerated rate. It is why we are far less susceptible to what are otherwise considered to be mortal wounds to human beings. I’m not that versed in the technical part of it, but our flesh, our DNA, our cellular structure – it’s set up so that repairs to tissue damage is nearly instantaneous.”

  “And is that how you’re healing me?” I ask. “Some kind of vampire voodoo medicine trick? Eye of newt, ear of frog, that sort of thing?”

  Samantha laughs. “Yeah, that’s what we’re doing. Murdering defenseless amphibians to save your life. How transparent we vampire types are!”

  “Well, c’mon. I should be dead. Instead, I’m feeling flushed with anticipation of you giving me a sponge bath. What’s the deal?”

  “The deal is that vampires have some power that can help to heal, transform, and utterly reverse disease and injury. For the time being, let’s leave it at that, okay?”

  I am about to speak again, but Samantha puts one of her lovely fingers on my lips. “Hush. I’m trying to work here.”

  I look to Jennifer. “Hush,” she says.

  And Samantha begins to wipe my forehead with the sponge and I am inclined to do nothing more but relax and allow myself to be pampered.

  * * *

  My mind rambles to other matters, and more questions loom. Samantha is nearly finished with her Dick-bath (no pun once again intended) and she is patting down my face and arms, careful not to touch my pain-filled wrists.

  “Sam?”

  “Yes, Dick.”

  “Who nailed you to the hanger wall back at the airport? Was it the Grand Master?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t he destroy you?”

  Samantha sighs, looks off distantly. “He said he wanted me to suffer. And that one day, he was going to make me his bride.”

  “He said that?”

  “Just before he rammed the stakes into my hand, broke my back, and shattered my arms.”

  “The twisted fuck. This Grand Master has got to go,” I say matter-of-factly.

  I glance at Jennifer and mumble. “Sorry. Potty mouth.”

  Jennifer merely smiles.

  I look to Samantha. “I should check in with HQ.”

  “Dracula already did that for you. He talked to Captain Zelig, said you and he were still under deep investigative cover on your case.”

  “Ah.”

  “Remember, you’re both on a task force.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Jennifer stands and looks at me. “I think I’ll go help Colonel Kellog clean guns. I’ll see you later, Dick.”

  She comes over and kisses me on the cheek. “See ya’ later, gator.”

  “Right,” I say and smile.

  Jennifer leaves. And Samantha and I are alone again.


  “I think you need to sleep,” Samantha says.

  “Okay. But don’t leave yet,” I say. “Just sit here with me. Alright?”

  “I was planning on it, darling,” she says softly.

  I smile happily – perhaps for the first time in a long time, that is what I feel, despite my physical infirmity. I feel happiness. And love. I don’t want the feeling to go away.

  Sleep descends upon me and I believe I dream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I awaken with a start. Something has forced me from my blessed slumber – some kind of anxiety. But anxious about what?

  I shake off the cobwebs of sleep and see that I am alone. Samantha is gone.

  I feel worry.

  I look at the clock ticking next to my bed.

  And now I know why I’m awake and frightened.

  I have slept away the day, and it is half an hour before midnight – the witching hour when the Love Lion must be stroked.

  I feel panic.

  My wrists are still useless, and I feel the pain and immobility running through the bones and the marrow.

  How am I going to do this? No old bag woman around to let me swordfight in her mouth. This is bad.

  Worse … because I have a nauseating terror that Father Gastroni may wish to help me ‘offload’. I think I would rather die. I think I would rather be the Grand Master’s blood-bitch for the next thousand years rather than let Gastroni fondle the Killer Kolbasi.

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  My mind races for options. I try to move my wrists again, and wince in pain.

  The door suddenly opens, and through the dim light, I see a figure. It approaches the bed slowly.

  I see it is Samantha. She is in a nightie, a fetching little nothing that shows off her rather shapely legs and does no disservice either to her considerable bosoms.

  “Hi,” she whispers.

  “Hi,” I say.

  She moves toward me, and then her hand is on my Nuzzle Nob, stroking. I am immediately aroused.

  “You didn’t think I’d forget about you, did you, Dick?”