Chance in Hell

by PATRICK KAMPMAN

  She looked back and held out her hand. Her nails were short and unpolished. “Toni Nguyen. That’s Lisa and Mike.” Mike grunted a hello and Lisa flashed a quick smile.

  “Chance.” I shook her hand—it was warm and firm—and then added, “Toni?”

  “Yeah,” she grinned. “It’s short for Antoinette. When my folks moved here from Vietnam, they thought I should have a proper American name. So they named me after a French queen who was Austrian.”

  “Well, I was conceived during a one-night stand in Vegas and named Chance, so I can’t really comment.”

  She laughed. “So, what happened to your face?”

  A jolt of embarrassment went through me; I had forgotten all about that. “You think I look bad, you should see the parking lot.” I grinned.

  “Face plant in the parking lot, huh? Bummer,” said Mike.

  “Yeah, someone ran into me, literally.”

  “Car?”

  “No, a man, but he was big.”

  Before I could react, Toni reached over and tore the bandage off my forehead. I yelled.

  “That ain’t bad,” said Mike, leaning closer. “What does the cheek look like?” Toni reached over and ripped off the other one before I could back away. She was quick. “Okay, that one’s worse.” I cringed. “Hey dude, it ain’t that bad. Nothing compared to when I laid my bike down on Pacheco Pass. Fog was so thick, by the time I saw the taillights of that semi it was all I could do.”

  Lisa nodded. “We were picking gravel out of him for weeks!”

  “You ever ride?” asked Toni.

  “I had a Ninja for a couple of years, but it just wasn’t practical, so I sold it and got a car.”

  “Screw practical,” Mike said.

  “A tough guy like you can’t survive with just a bike?” Toni teased me, winking. She added, “I’ve got a truck too.”

  “If I could afford both I would,” I said. “But as a starving student I’m stuck with one vehicle until I can graduate and get a better job.”

  Mike sighed. “I hear that. I’ve been waiting for a raise so I can put a turbo on my car.”

  I looked at him.

  “What? I didn’t say I didn’t have a car.”

  “What kind?”

  “An oh-four Zee.”

  “Cool. I have a turbo Miata set up to track.”

  Toni looked me over skeptically. “A Miata?”

  “What?”

  “I dunno. I would have pictured you with something different is all.”

  We all talked about cars until the guy at the counter called Toni’s number. The timing was good; it pulled my attention away from our conversation just in time for me to see a big guy walk in. He fit the description the elderly lady from the parking lot had related to Detective Cassara, but it was the trench coat in August that gave him away. The coat had several stains on it that could have been coffee, but probably weren’t. I felt the familiar weight press in on me as he stopped and looked around.

  He was tall and powerfully built, larger even than the biggest biker in the place. He had blond hair in a military cut, a square jaw, unnaturally green eyes, and didn’t so much walk as lumber.

  I had no idea how he found me. For a second I hoped it was just a coincidence, but then I caught his eye as he headed my way and I knew that it wasn’t.

  My three companions had all headed over to the counter to grab their meals. I felt for the locker key inside my pocket, glanced across the tabletop, and then made one of those life-changing decisions.

  I jumped up, grabbed Toni’s pink rabbit’s foot key chain that still sat across from me, and tossed what was left of my sandwich at the back of one of the big bikers sitting between me and the oncoming man. Hoping correctly that the biker would jump up and get in the way, I bolted for the door.

  As I hopped on Toni’s bike, I risked a glance backward. At the first table I saw through the window sat the two bikers from each gang, staring out at me. When they realized what I was doing, the two Midnight Cycle guys laughed, and one of them mouthed something that looked like “you are so dead.” But then he gave me a thumbs-up. The other two gang members didn’t look nearly as pleased with my felony.

  My pursuer had plowed a path through the deli and was headed my way. Toni and her friends were right behind him, followed by the guy wearing my sandwich. A couple of cops had also started to notice what was happening. None of their expressions were friendly.

  The nearest biker outside was at least fifteen feet away, smoking by his ride, not yet clued in to what had happened. I saw him note that I was getting on a bike that belonged to one of his friends. Despite the distance, by the time I turned around and started up the bike—maybe a second in all—he was on me, grabbing hold of my sleeve. I had no idea how he got there so fast, but the engine roared to life and I squealed out of the spot, rocketing down the street. The guy had a good grip and almost pulled me off, but my jacket gave way first and he was left holding a patch out of it. I twisted my hand and felt the ungodly acceleration as the bike’s roar set off car alarms that further irritated my headache.

  I checked the mirror and saw the big guy in the coat suit running toward a large SUV. A couple of the bikers had jumped on their bikes.

  I had no idea where I was going, but I was going there fast. It was counter to what my instincts were telling me to do, but I throttled it down, remembering that I was near a police station. I also realized I wasn’t wearing a helmet, and I suspected that California – unlike Texas – had laws about that. I kept checking my rearview mirrors but I didn’t see anyone following me. I passed a sign that pointed to a freeway. I goosed the bike up the onramp.

  A nervous twenty minutes later, I was in the southern side of the mountains that surrounded the valley. The sun was going down and redwoods were sliding past as I steered the bike up the winding highway. I hadn’t seen anyone tailing me, but I took a random exit to watch for anyone else pulling off. I checked my mirrors and didn’t see any lights. I passed a gas station with one of those quickie marts right off the highway, but kept on going. I was hoping to find someplace quiet to rest for a minute and collect my thoughts.

  I went a few more miles, seeing nothing but forest and the occasional driveway. It was now dark, and I was thinking about pulling over in a clearing I saw up ahead when the bike made the decision for me. It began to sputter. I looked down and cursed. I was out of gas. I had been so focused on guiding the bike and watching for a tail that I never even saw the idiot light. A minute later, I was pulled over in the clearing to the side of the road, sitting on a stolen bike and considering my sorry-looking list of options.

  The best one seemed to be to find a phone and call a cab. I cursed myself for not listening to Cassara and grabbing one at the cell store across from the station. The gas station was at least five miles back, and I thought I could make out some lights just a little further down the road. I decided to give that a try first; otherwise it was going to be a long walk back to the highway. So I got off the bike and walked down the road. Not a single car passed me by the time I came to a gravel parking lot with a couple of dozen cars surrounding a bar. A red neon sign proclaimed that it was “The Last Sip.”

  Chapter 3

  Inside the bar I had one of the moments that you see on TV or read in a book, but don’t think ever really happen. The room actually got quieter when I entered, as everyone turned to look at me.

  The place was maybe half full, the patrons scattered throughout the dimly lit wood-paneled room. It was like any other local bar you might find—well worn, adorned with neon beer signs, and filled with regulars gathered to drink and talk about whatever. Apparently something about me caught their attention. I preferred to think it was my stunning good looks and not my torn clothes or scuffed-up face.

  The bar ran the length of the room to my right. The man behind it was talking to a couple of blue-collar-looking guys camped out on stools at the far end. A waitress in a short skirt and t-shirt took the order of a group of folks in t
he far corner playing pool. Johnny Cash came from the jukebox and a flat-screen TV mounted high up on the wall showed soccer on some obscure cable sports channel.

  I tried my best to look nonchalant and ignored the stares as I walked over to the bar. Conversation resumed, but it seemed a little more hushed than it had been when I first entered, and I caught people still sneaking glances at me.

  On my way over, I spied a table with a couple of girls dressed up for a night on the town, not for a place like this. A brunette with straight shoulder-length hair and ice-blue eyes was staring at me with her brows raised. Her companion, an elfin-looking blonde with green eyes, was frowning at me, brows drawn together.

  First glance told me they were hot enough not to even bother with. Not that I didn’t think I had a chance; it’s just that, in my experience, girls who looked that good weren’t worth the inevitable trouble they’d bring. Even so, they were worth a second look, and with that one I decided that they were barely old enough to be in a bar in the first place. Of course I was only a couple of months this side of legal myself, but I had always thought I looked older than I really was. I was proud of that. I hadn’t yet hit the age where you flip. Robert had told me at some point you stopped wanting to look older and started wanting to look younger.

  I sat myself on a stool and felt more than one set of eyes on my back. The bartender made his way over to me.

  “What can I get you?” He wasn’t overly friendly, but at least he didn’t seem hostile.

  “Actually, I was wondering if you had a phone? My cell is busted and I need to make a call.”

  “Sorry, no. There’s a convenience store a few miles back just off the main highway. They have a couple of payphones you can use.” I eyed the phone mounted on the wall behind him and sighed. I guess I was in for a long walk. I hadn’t gotten to finish my last meal, and I decided that a drink and some warm food couldn’t hurt before I set out on what was likely to be a two-hour hike.

  “Thanks. Could I get a…” I looked down the line of tap heads, and was pleasantly surprised by the excellent, though limited, selection. “Newcastle and a menu?” The man looked at me a second, perhaps wondering how my face got to looking like it did, then nodded. He reached under the bar and pulled out a tattered, stained menu and placed it in front of me, then walked over and began filling a pint glass. When he came back with my beer I ordered a bacon cheeseburger, rare, and fries. Then I grabbed the beer and watched the game.

  I heard the front door open and close as I took the first sip of my second beer. The bartender swung by and placed a basket in front of me that held a juicy-looking burger and a pile of fries. He came back a second later with a stack of napkins and a bottle of catsup.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking another swig and glancing up at the TV. Ireland was up by one. A few seconds later I almost choked on a fry. A cold chill passed across my back as whoever had entered the bar walked past behind me. I glanced left and saw a well dressed couple saunter over to a table and sit down. They had taken the time to exchange greetings with various customers on their trip. The waitress finished with the group at the pool table and hurried over to take their order. Though I wasn’t sure what they could possibly be ordering—they were vampires.

  I hoped the bartender hadn’t seen the expression I knew played across my face as soon as I felt them. There was no mistaking it; it felt just like the others. I got the same cold chill any time I got near one of the bloodsuckers. It was one of the reasons Robert agreed to take me on in the first place—I was a vamp radar detector. Too bad it was so short-range or maybe he’d still be alive.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. It was pretty obvious these two were known well enough to be on a first-name basis with half the bar, which meant I had stumbled into something bad. I could only assume that either the folks in the bar didn’t know what these two creatures were, or they were under the monsters’ thrall. What I did know was that, unarmed, there wasn’t much I could do about it.

  I decided a meal would just have to wait a little bit longer, and was about to take one last long drink and then slink out the door when another chill hit me from behind. This time it was coupled with a strange tingling sensation, something akin to static electricity. I glanced quickly over, but the vampire couple was still seated, smiling and chatting with the waitress. That meant there were more of them, and they were right behind me.

  I was dead. Resigned to my fate, I stared down at my beer, wondering if I should drink it down or swing around, using the mug as a weapon. When I felt a tapping on my shoulder coupled with a friendly “Heya!” I jumped, despite knowing very well what was back there.

  “Twitchy?” It wasn’t a question. I turned to find the two cute girls I passed on the way in standing in front of me, looking amused. “We don’t get too many new faces in here,” said the blonde. The strange tingling was coming from her, and I knew instantly that she wasn’t a vampire, but she wasn’t human either. She must be something else entirely, and I had no idea what. That bothered me almost more than the vamp with the dimples who stood grinning two feet in front of me. Her canines were slightly larger and sharper than normal. Nothing dramatic, but telltale if you knew what you were looking for.

  “That’s because most people are smart enough to read the reviews and avoid this place,” said the vampire. I reluctantly looked over to her and blinked. Now, I don’t believe in anything as corny as love at first sight, but I had to admit she certainly checked all the boxes on my “perfect girl” list, except for the one about being likely to devour me. She was adorable, so much so that I was thinking my immunity to their mind games was finally failing me.

  “She’s joking; the food’s not that bad,” said the blonde, “as long as you don’t mind your weekly intake of salt and grease all wrapped up in one meal.” She reached around me and grabbed a fry from my basket, popping it in her mouth. “So, you just move out here or something?”

  “Huh? No, I ran out of gas about a mile down the road. I was hoping to find a gas station but found this place first, so I stopped in to use the phone.”

  “Well, you’re out of luck. The nearest gas station is five miles away and they took the payphone out of here about a year ago.” She moved over to the bar so she wouldn’t have to reach past me and helped herself to another fry. “Where were you headed?”

  “Just out for a ride.”

  “Forgot your phone?” asked the brunette. “Happens to me all the time. Either that or I remember the phone, but forget to charge it.”

  “Nah, I lost it earlier today,” I said. Then it hit me: I had just told a vampire that I was stranded with no phone.

  “That sucks. Hope you had the insurance. And I hope you weren’t hungry, because Lacey’s about to finish your fries.” She gave the blonde a disapproving look.

  “It’s all right. I wasn’t as hungry as I first thought,” I said, trying to figure out a way out of here. Lacey, whatever the hell she was, was to my right, and the vampire was in front of me, leaving an open path to the door. I didn’t think I’d make it in time. As I learned the hard way, vampires were crazy-fast – especially the old ones – and I had no idea how old this one was.

  “Really? Cool.” Lacey grinned, hoisting herself onto the stool next to me and sliding the basket in front of her. I wondered if she was going to go puke it all up in the bathroom later on, because she sure didn’t look like the type that ate a basket of fries with abandon.

  “Sorry about your dinner,” said the vampire.

  “He said he didn’t want it,” said Lacey, squirting a pile of catsup in a corner of the basket.

  “You don’t think maybe he was just being polite?” She glared at her friend, who looked at me with a sheepish grin, gave a little “oops” shrug, and pushed the basket my way.

  “No really, I’m good. It’s all yours.” She smiled and pulled it back, grabbing the salt.

  The vampire shook her head in disgust, then extended her hand and said, “I’m Megan, by the way.”

>   I looked down at it and froze. A vampire was trying to shake hands with me. Then my eyes drifted past her hand to her legs and I got even more distracted. When they made it down to her feet I noted she was wearing three-inch heels. Considering she was already over a half a foot shorter than I was, I realized she couldn’t be much over five feet tall.

  “Um, excuse me, up here?”

  “Sorry. Chance,” I said, looking up to see that she was amused by my wandering eyes. I managed to shake myself out of it. Instinctively, I almost went for my Kimber .45, then remembered it was still in the trunk of my car. With only one option left, I took her hand. As expected, it was cold, though surprisingly not unpleasant. Her skin was soft and I noticed her polished nails were perfectly sculpted. Crap; it was doing that vamp mind thing to me again.

  “Chance? Seriously?”

  “Yeah, it’s a long story involving my mom, a one-night stand, and Vegas.” That story just never got old.

  She gave me the raised-eyebrows look again, trying to figure out if I was serious or not. She was going to say something when the waitress came up with two drinks. She had apparently grabbed them from the girls’ table. “Hey, Megan! Can I get you girls anything else?”

  “No, thanks,” said Megan. Lacey just looked at her and shook her head, French fries rendering her incapable of speech. With terror, I glanced down at the drinks. I was relieved that they didn’t contain blood—not even red wine. It looked like some sort of a Coke cocktail and a martini.

  “So, Chance,” said Lacey, pausing in her annihilation of the fries to grab the something-and-Coke, “mind if I ask you something?”