by Alan Spencer
“The vampires!”
The bedroom windows rattled.
“Hide before it’s too late!”
Vickers backed into the sliding-door closet, caught by surprise and scared. He froze in his hiding place, praying he wasn’t seen by whatever had cracked open the window and entered.
The detective gained his breath. He dared to press his eye up against the crack of the closet. His suspicions were wrong. The truth was far more unbelievable than he predicted.
He clasped the shotgun and waited for a plan to formulate in his mind.
It would be a long night.
Chapter Eleven
Officer Kit Bentley led the three other cops into Peggy Sue’s Bakery Creations. The pungent scent of corpses was so strong the cops almost gagged. They were called to the scene after half a dozen bakery deliveries containing human organs were reported. The front display bragged of the crimes committed on the premises. Donuts were splayed with gristle-heavy eyeballs stuck in the centers. Jelly rolls gushed with human blood from both ends. Flesh replaced the bread crust of pies. Intestines were used as garnish between each display. Severed hands were posed to hold cupcakes, cookies and Danishes. Meat pies dominated the display case, open-faced, filled with breasts, rolls of yellow fat, male and female genitals, and diced innards that continued to steam against the glass. The potent stench stirred Bentley’s belly.
Bentley was determined to complete the once-over of the premises despite his greening face and the fact he could lose his cookies any second. Somebody could be alive and in need, he thought, so he swallowed back the urge to retch and continued deeper into the bakery. He aimed his service revolver as he crossed the barrier between the display cases. Blood was spattered on the tiles and the walls. Powdered sugar, cinnamon, blueberries, strawberries, cherries and apple filling were mixed in with the gory mess.
He was appalled and the nervous energy came out in his words. “This is the police, come out with your hands up!”
He didn’t expect an answer. The silence proved his suspicions true. The bakery oven in back was empty, though the front plate was crusted with blackened flesh. Mixers were dirty with frosting and blood. The floor was a butcher’s block of appendages and innards. He noted the wide circle between the refrigerator and steel shelves. Somebody had stolen one of the devices. Black and red lines trailed out the dock door.
Whoever was here had moved their operation elsewhere.
Dr. Gregory Hilbert watched as dozens of crime scene analysts studied the carnage in the recovery unit. It was three in the morning. Chief Burnes remained at his side. He slurped his coffee, an incensed expression etched onto his face. Dr. Hilbert had been close friends with the chief of police for years, and the chief felt comfortable speaking his mind to the doctor. “First, we have a man blow himself up on the street not even two blocks from here, and then we have some psycho delivering pies with human parts in them. Christ, somebody even said there was a breast in their blueberry pie, for Pete’s sake! And now this scene, all in one long fucking day. What's going on in my city?”
They walked together down the hallways and into the patient rooms. Dr. Hilbert stepped over Nurse Sherry Miller. Her eyes had been sucked clean from the sockets along with her brains. For an unknown reason, Nurse Miller was naked, her smock wadded up in the corner. A devilish smile of pleasure was plastered on her skeletal face. The mortician would have trouble removing the maniacal expression for the funeral, he thought. The patient behind her body, a Wayne Carton, was disemboweled and drained of every ounce of blood.
Chief Burnes sized up the walls and the corpses he kept encountering. “No spatters on the ceilings or walls. No obvious murder weapons. It’s like this in every room. Nobody’s alive. Everybody's drained.”
“Every nurse and doctor on the shift is accounted for,” Dr. Hilbert said. “They’ve been found in one corner or the other, dead of course. Patients claim they heard ear-piercing screeches from this floor. It happened in five minutes. In and out, and nobody saw who did this.”
Chief Burnes stomped his foot. He ground his teeth and rubbed at his exhausted eyes. “Sixty-one corpses. All drained of blood. And not a trace of blood on the premises. This is impossible.”
“There’s a reasonable explanation,” Dr. Hilbert insisted. “We may have to hold out for the truth despite the lunacy of what we’re seeing.”
“Lunacy’s a good word, yes.”
Chief Burnes edged towards the nearest window at the end of the hallway. Claw marks cut up the frame including the aluminum paneling. The glass was shattered in sections. He recalled reading the report about the crime scene at the Claims and Lost Possessions Branch. Similar marks had damaged steel lockers. Wayne Carton had been the security guard on the scene, as well as another guard who was discovered with his throat viciously torn out and the blood removed from his body.
The connection was harrowing.
Dr. Hilbert interrupted the chief’s ruminations. “This had to be a large group of perpetrators who did this. You can’t easily drain the blood out of one person, never mind an entire floor of patients and doctors, in less than five minutes.”
Chief Burnes couldn’t reply.
There was simply no reasonable explanation.
Chapter Twelve
Ted had been tied to the bed after showing signs of regaining his strength. The five vampires didn’t bother to suck the lifeblood from his body again. Last night, they huddled at the window listening to the police and ambulances close in on the hospital and the Neo Night Club. The devastation had already begun, and he was trapped in the den of murderers. Even though Detective Vickers was hidden in the closet, Ted was quickly losing hope the man could actually thwart the vampires’ plans.
The morning news played in the background on the television. Reports of hundreds dead at Heart of Chicago Medical Center stirred excitement within the naked females. Two dozen were slain at Neo Night Club. The news left out any details about the identity of the culprits or how the victims died.
He kept eying the double closet, imagining the detective blasting his gun through each room and saving the city from devastation. He couldn’t stop blaming himself for the recent deaths. Bitterness had fueled his ambition to resurrect his film career. He really did believe the shotgun would’ve protected him in the event the vampires did come to life again.
The blonde vampire, in human form, strutted into the room. Her eyes were coal black, and Ted refused to make eye contact with the walking evil thing. “What's making you kill all these people?”
The vampire ignored his question. “It’s time for another movie. Today’s the day. How about a marathon of movies? We’ve got over a hundred reels. I think the city’s scared enough to begin. Their blood’s pumping hot enough. I can smell it.”
“End this!” Ted fought his restraints, but the sheets tied around his ankles and wrists refused to budge. “Turn off the projectors. Can’t you communicate with us in a non-violent way? Why do you hate the living?”
“The dead want the living to join them in eternity.” Her eyes were blazing red phosphorous circles. “And if you’re not silent, you’ll be there before anybody else!”
The blonde chose a reel. “Ah yes, this will start us off. Bone Dome.”
Air Force ace Jerry Minor soared in his jet fighter and took aim at the incoming anomaly. He radioed into base. “What the hell is that thing?”
“Just fire at it, Minor! Blast it out of God’s America!”
Jerry steered the jet closer to the strange thing and fired two heat-seeking missiles. They exploded into the shell—larger than Pittsburgh—but caused no damage.
“Damn it! This—this dome thing isn’t blowing up!”
Other jets joined in. The dome kept closing in, slowly hunkering down upon the city. Nothing could stop its slow descent, propelled by an invisible and unknown force.
“The surface is shiny,” Jerry reported. “It’s like enamel or bone. A skull cap. I see veins and articulations like it
’s still alive. The bone dome is resistant to our weapons. What do we do? It’s covering the city. It’ll close us in. Come on, Captain Edwards, the good people of Pittsburgh will be trapped in there!”
“Keep firing,” Edwards demanded over the radio. “Send the bone dome packing to hell!”
Jerry had a different idea. “Tell Jenny I love her!”
“What are you doing, Minor? You’re not a kamikaze.”
Jerry didn't listen. Seeing a waving American flag in his eyes, he crashed into the dome. “I’ll send this thing to hell! YEAAAAAAAAAAH!”
The jet fighter exploded into the top of the dome, but the plume of fire and acrid smoke caused zero damage. It wasn't much longer before the dome landed over the city.
Billy hadn’t heard the reports about Heart of Chicago Medical Center yet this morning. Jessica had gotten up early to cook blueberry pancakes. She placed a cup of orange juice at his place on the table. Jessica insisted he have some level of vitamin intake. She’d even sneak blueberries in his cereal sometimes.
He stepped out of the shower with a towel around him. He walked up to her and kissed her neck. “You’re so good to me.”
She playfully laughed while flipping over the next pancake. “It’s too early for that."
He hugged her from behind. “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m marrying you the second you’re out of law school. Any kind of wedding you want.”
“I’d rather not have a big ceremony and just have a courthouse wedding. I hate the idea of fitting into a dress and making my friends rent dresses. The family can celebrate by doing something else together somewhere fun. The pressure will be off and the booze will be flowing.”
“You can leave me in charge of that aspect of the wedding.” Billy thought of Jessica’s mother, Anna. “Anna will kill you. She’s already got wedding photo albums and baby photo albums. Your mom’s ready for the baby machine to be baking on high.”
“Christ.” Jessica rolled her eyes. “She can have them for me if she’s so ready. All I want is a career, not a whining, shitting brat.”
He was relieved his future wife was hesitant to have children. Billy could go either way. There was no hurry to get on with the rest of his life. And he couldn’t sleep last night. After watching his father helpless in bed, he realized time was wasting. He could die any day without having accomplished anything.
“I’ve decided what I want to do for a career,” he said.
She spun around, leaving the doughy side of the pancake to cook, at hearing this.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s the Field Museum of Natural History, I want to be a curator at a museum. I’ll go back to school during the summer. I’ll get student loans, grants, whatever I have to. I’m sick of being a meter man. Somebody else can put up with Chicago’s bad parkers.”
Jessica kissed him. “I’m so proud of you. I know you’ve been struggling with what to do with your life. A lot of people can’t figure it out. Not everybody gets to be a cowboy or an astronaut.”
She handed him the plate of pancakes. “I have to get running to work early. I’m sorry.”
“No problem. Thanks for breakfast. I was going to stop by the hospital and visit Dad. Victor traded shifts with me. I won’t get home until about six o’clock.”
“Maybe I’ll bring take-out home tonight. We’ll celebrate your decision. Then we can check out the courses at Chicago University.”
He smiled. “It’s a date.”
Nelson knocked on the door shortly after Billy finished his pancakes and orange juice. He was wearing a T-shirt showing a pair of peanuts dancing with a caption that read: “Like My Salty Nuts?” Nelson helped himself to two leftover pancakes. “Hey man, I figured you’d be up by now. I didn’t have anything in the cupboard, so I thought I’d play the mooch today.”
“Moochaholic,” Billy accused. “No, help yourself.”
“Is Jessica still upset?”
“No, she’s cool. She went to work.”
“I guess I can get carried away teasing her. It’s a high school thing, I hope she understands that.”
“She does, so don't stop making fun of her. She was mad at me more than anything. Me watching that movie, she thought I was acting out my grief in an unhealthy way. I guess she doesn’t want me going crazy.”
“Death Reject is a cool movie. This dude can do just about anything with his body. If he wanted to urinate a quart, he could. Of all the special powers I could want, pissing a quart is high up there. If I was still in school, I’d be able to vomit at will to get out of tests.”
Billy laughed. “I’d poop money.”
“I’d poop bricks of gold bullion.”
Billy changed the subject. “So what are you doing today?”
Nelson shrugged. “It’s my day off. I might work on my video game idea with Brice. We’re so close to having a demo to market. It’s about Egyptian pyramids and explorers finding secret passages in search of riches, and they find mummies, ancient spirits, zombies, and release a flesh-eating bacterial disease. It’s pretty involved, but it’s awesome. You’re not off of work today, are you?”
“Nope. I’m going in about three hours. I was going to visit Dad again first. You want to come with me?”
Arriving in the parking lot, Billy couldn’t miss the crime scene. Police cars were huddled around the hospital. Around the eastern wing, stretchers kept leaving the hospital, bodies draped over by blankets. He counted eight before he charged toward the entrance. The police blockades halted him. An officer seized his arm. “Whoa, this is a crime scene.”
Nelson restrained him so the cop could let him go. “Calm down, Billy. We’ll figure this out. Who knows what this is about? Maybe the kind officer will fill us in.”
Officer Neiman looked them up and down. “Do you have a loved one inside?”
Billy nodded. “Yes, he’s on the recovery floor.”
The officer’s eyes tensed. “You’re going to have to wait like everybody else. I’m sorry about this, I really am. I’ve got hundreds of people breathing down my neck. This is an official crime scene. You’ll be allowed access inside hopefully by the end of the day.”
“I just want to know if my dad’s safe. Is that too much to ask? Wouldn’t you want to know? Couldn’t I call somebody inside—a doctor or a nurse?” They kept carting out covered bodies. “How many are dead? Is this another terrorist act?”
The officer was confused. “Terrorist act?”
“Yeah, like the guy who blew himself up yesterday?”
Officer Neiman sharpened his voice. “You two have to go or else I’ll have a police officer escort you. Which do you prefer?”
Nelson dragged him from the police line. “Sorry, officer, he’s had a few shitty days under his belt.”
“Yeah, me too, fella. Now get movin’.”
Billy’s legs were numb. He feared so many things. Was his father one of the bodies being driven from the hospital? Would he be contacted if his dad was dead?—and if so, when? And what if his dad was perfectly safe? When could Billy enter the hospital and see him again?
Nelson sensed his apprehension. He patted his back and sat him on a nearby bench. “Breathe, man, just breathe.”
“I have a bad feeling. Like yesterday watching that man explode. Fine, I’ll admit it. I still think it looks like the guy from that movie. What does that mean, I don’t have a clue, but it’s been staying with me. And then my dad being attacked at work, and now bodies coming out of the hospital. Maybe Jessica’s right. I’m flipping out. I’m losing it.”
“Your reaction is healthy. You’re acting better than I would in your position. Let’s take this one step at a time—”
“I have to get up there and find out if my dad's safe.”
“The cops will bust your balls. That line is pretty solid. Nobody’s getting through.”
“That’s because there’s some serious shit going down. Did you see that officer’s eyes wince when I mentioned my dad was on the fourth floor?�
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“Who knows what the guy was thinking? Maybe he has to take a leak or something.”
“I want to know, damn it. This is my father’s life we’re talking about.”
Nelson gave him his support. “Then how do you suppose we cross that line?”
Billy threw up his hands. “I don’t know.”
They sat quietly on the bench. Billy stood and stretched to alleviate the tension in his body. When he sat back down, they were both covered up by an encroaching shadow that blocked out the sun.
Frank Zimmerman was rudely awakened in his apartment when the ceiling caved in. The room was split in half in two seconds, everything around him crashing down and collapsing. Panhandler Jonas Allan was asleep on a bench at Maywood Park, tucked in under the Thursday edition of the Chicago Sun-Times. Before he could make sense of the shadow eclipsing the sun, the edge of the bone dome landed on his torso. Squashed to the ground, pinned, his bottom half was cut off and remained outside of the dome. The elevated train crashed nose first into the bone wall, the ensuing explosion and fire engulfing its passengers. The morning traffic on the interstate was halted by the shell, and the pile-up stretched for ten miles. The News Station 5 building was split in half, the signal coming from its satellite immediately going dead. The edge of Navy Pier was blocked as well, a good section of the harbor still within the contents of the dome. Twenty city miles were hidden beneath the bone dome, the very heart of Chicago trapped in its circular corridor. Darkness encompassed every inch of the city, and now the monsters could come out and play.
Chapter Thirteen
Dr. Simon Unger turned over the manila file on his desk and read its contents. The analysis had passed through the offices of toxicologists, phlebotomists, detectives, forensic labs, and now, Dr. Unger, neurologist. Unger eyed Harry Newman’s file with disdain. While he read the file, Detective Christopher Ryan who stood across from the doctor, poured himself a drink of scotch.
