Two out of the four walls had shelves that went from the floor to the ceiling. Every shelf was completely covered in weapons: knives, pistols, shotguns, and rifles, along with enough ammo to last a very, very long time.
Chris pulled her hair into a ponytail and put her hair in a bun. She grabbed a knife from one of the shelves and, looking into a small cracked mirror, shaved the sides of her head. After she had finished cutting the rest of her hair to just under shoulder length, she reached behind her and unfastened the button that held her blue dress around her neck. The dress dropped to the ground, revealing Chris’s naked body and exposing every curve, muscle, and scar. Never having lost her figure, she was most assuredly still beautiful and seductive.
After opening an old dusty chest lying under a shelf, she reached in and pulled out a pair of black leather pants, a red tank top, and a green, sleeveless army jacket. After dressing, she placed a holster on each of her thighs, one on the front of her belt, and one under each of her arms. She placed two .45 caliber pistols on her thighs, and the beautiful Colt 1911 pistol that had belonged to Rick in the holster on her belt. Under her arms were two .44 Magnum revolvers. After filling a green army duffel bag with various weapons, Chris, in an instant, was standing on the beach next to the El Camino.
The only modification Mick had made to the car besides converting it to biodiesel was the hundred-gallon fuel tank in the bed that allowed it to travel much farther. As a tribute to Rick, Chris also had painted “War Machine” on the hood.
She threw her bag onto the passenger seat and climbed inside. As she turned the key, the War Machine roared to life.
THIRTY NINE
Chris drove for weeks and weeks under the light of the moon. Haste was of the utmost importance, but soon enough what she’d expected happened; the War Machine ran out of gas. After that, she had no choice but to search for fuel.
Billy’s voice had been like a whisper from her past. She hadn’t heard his voice once since they’d parted ways years earlier. When he walked off with the M.M. in Brockton, Chris believed she’d never see him alive again.
Why did he wait so many years to speak to me? Why does he need me in a town called America? Why doesn’t he answer the questions I’m thinking about now? All these thoughts raced through her mind as she walked along a dirty city road, passing useless cars with rotting buildings in the distance.
The night was beautiful, and the only time Chris really missed the daytime was on the nights when she was unable to see the stars. Tonight, however, the sky was so full of stars that it seemed only a moment away from bursting wide open. Somehow, after all she’d been through, gazing upon the same stars a child might wish upon gave her hope.
Looking up into the night sky, she saw no war, fighting, or problems, only balance and harmony. Chris pondered that for a time, thinking that the only problems in the world were manmade. If you take people out of the equation, she thought, what problems are left? Maybe that’s just what the world needs: a great cleansing.
As Chris traveled through the night and slept during the day, time seemed to have slowed for her. She knew she was making good time, but without companionship or anyone to talk to, she felt alone. It was a feeling she still remembered from her time waiting in that fancy neighborhood, hoping Rick, her love, would return to her. As Chris dwelled on those feelings, she reminded herself that Rick did return and that hope is always alive if you continue to believe.
Eventually recognized places from her past: towns, cities, and even roads she traveled on when she was with Rick, when they were young.
Dawn was about to break when Chris decided she needed shelter. She found a nice little tree house just off the dirt road she’d been traveling on. The tree house was in the backyard of a home that no longer existed. The earth had long since swallowed it up; not even the foundation was visible any longer.
Fifteen feet off the ground, Chris climbed into the tree house, which was in remarkably good shape considering its age. It was a little rickety but still stable. It had only one window, which she closed with a shutter, and a door at the bottom. She had tied her horse under the tree house. While walking through a pasture a few nights earlier, she had found it quietly grazing. Under the tree house, it would have plenty of grass, and she could see if someone messed with it, although the odds of anyone being out here were slim to none.
Chris slipped out of her leather pants and army jacket and placed them on the floor to use as a makeshift bed. She lay down to sleep after covering all the cracks and openings with duct tape to ensure no sunlight would enter the tree house.
As she drifted off, her mind took her back to a time when being a vampire was still new and frightening to her. She thought about the day when she had decided she would test what Billy had told her about the sun. Chris, being young and rambunctious, had moved aside a thick curtain to let in just enough sunlight to cast a thin ray on the floor. She had convinced herself that sunlight couldn’t possibly kill her. Vampires didn’t exist; there had to be another logical explanation for what she was going through.
With only a slight hesitation, and completely disregarding what Billy had warned her about, Chris slowly placed her little finger on her left hand in the ray of sunlight. As if acid had been poured on her, instantly she pulled her hand back in pain. In fact so much pain consumed her that she dropped to her knees and screamed out a slew of profanities that would have made the most hardened prisoner look twice. The flesh of her finger had burned all the way to the bone.
On the floor, crying out for help, she had no control of herself and lay there in the form of a vampire, unable to stop the pain. It took months for her finger to heal, and to this day, Chris still had some pain in her left hand. After that little experiment gone wrong, she never doubted Billy again, and she was never was without duct tape, as she was very meticulous to ensure any daylight was unable to penetrate wherever she may find herself.
As Chris slept through the day, she awoke on more than one occasion sick to her stomach. She knew what she needed, as it had been weeks since her last feeding. She longed for the taste of blood, and the craving would consume her mind until she satisfied it.
After the sun fell on that little tree house, Chris awoke in pain. She tried to get dressed, but aggravated, angry, and hungry, and in such a small space, she just threw all her clothes and belongings through the hatch, including her weapons.
Jumping to the ground fifteen feet below was like jumping off a single step to her; she no longer even thought about such things. Chris picked up her belongings, stuffed them into her bag, and set off. In too much pain to even care that she was nearly naked, she mounted her horse and was off.
As Chris rode through the night, she listened with acute senses for any sound of human life. She listened for the sound of a man’s pulse under his skin. She listened for the sound of her next victim. However, as with her search for fuel, she didn’t have any luck.
She rode for hours when it happened; humans were nearby, and she knew it. She felt them—their minds and every beat of their hearts. It was as if she were already touching them.
Chris pulled her horse to a stop and sat straight up, listening and waiting. In a split second, the horse stood alone. Chris had leapt up into a tree far above; nevertheless her vision was perfect, even in the dark of the night, as she watched her victims approach.
One was female and wasn’t too far from her male companion; Chris saw him in the distance, attempting to make a fire. The woman was collecting wood.
Samantha, Chris thought. Her name is Samantha, and she’s twenty-five years old. She likes the color purple, and she recently played pool for the first time with her male companion after they found a pool table in a dilapidated mall.
The man’s name is Brad. He’s twenty-seven, and he likes Samantha very much, but he’s too shy to tell her how he really feels. Yes, he’s a nice guy. Wait, Chris thought. No. He hits her.
Concentrating, she looked deep into Samantha’s mind. Brad hits he
r. He’s hit her many times, but Samantha is too scared to leave him or be alone, as she’s completely unfamiliar with this area.
I’m going to fix this, Chris thought.
With firewood in her arms, Samantha turned and walked through the thick vegetation toward the light of the campfire. Moving closer she called out Brad’s name but got no response.
“Come on, Brad. This isn’t funny.”
Samantha pushed through the brush and stepped into the small clearing in the trees. She looked at the fire; their belongings were still there, but Brad was nowhere in sight.
“Brad?”
She started to sense she wasn’t alone. She called out Brad’s name once more. Chris felt her fear, but she was preoccupied, thirty feet above in the trees. In a flash she had leapt from the tree to the ground, grabbed Brad from behind, and pulled him into the treetop before he could realize what was happening. Under normal circumstances Chris wouldn’t separate a couple like this, but this guy reminded her too much of her foster father, which pissed her off.
Wearing only the panties and tank top she had slept in, Chris sat straddling Brad’s body and looking at his face in disgust. “You’re a poor, pathetic soul,” she told him. “You don’t deserve the gift of life.”
Looking at Chris in a trance-like state, Brad was unable to speak, as he felt the same peaceful, calming bliss Chris had felt the night she had turned into a vampire. The difference, however, was that Chris had no desire to turn him into a vampire. She was interested in only one thing: she needed to feed.
“No, no, this simply won’t do. Unlike any other person I’ve drunk from, you won’t feel any peace of mind. You, Brad, will feel everything—the pain, sorrow, and anguish of everyone you’ve hurt—as I drain your life from your body.”
At that moment Brad’s euphoric feelings evaporated in an instant. He looked into the face of what he thought was a demon. Horrified he could only scream.
When Samantha heard the screams from above, she knew something was seriously wrong. She dropped her firewood and ran blindly through the woods.
Chris moved her face into Brad’s shoulder and bit hard. Blood rushed out; this wasn’t erotic—she wanted him to feel the pain, all of it. Brad screamed again as Chris ripped his flesh from his shoulder and neck, lapping up blood as she tore him apart. The more he screamed, the more pleasure she felt.
Within minutes Chris had drained the blood from his body, but now she wanted more. Samantha was moving through the woods, away from Chris, at an alarming rate. It didn’t matter, as she was no match for Chris’s speed. With only a single thought, Chris was upon her, pinning her to the ground.
Unlike Brad, Chris allowed Samantha to escape the reality she now faced.
“What to do? Should I drink?” Chris said, smiling and covered in Brad’s blood. “I could let you live perhaps. But alone and out here in the woods, you wouldn’t stand a chance.” She thought for a moment. “Or I could give you the gift that was bestowed upon me.”
Samantha, on her back and looking up at Chris, felt warm. A complete sense of calm passed over her as Chris bit deeply into her left wrist. Samantha tilted her head up and kissed Chris. Their tongues barely touched before Chris turned her head away.
Are you sure this is what you want? Chris asked her, using her mind to speak.
Yes, Samantha replied.
“I can’t,” Chris said out loud, with no further explanation.
Before the sun came up over the mountains the next morning, Samantha awoke in a place she recognized. Somehow, someway, she had returned to her parents’ home, which she had left months earlier.
Samantha had run off with Brad against the will of her mother and father, and now the only indication that any of the previous night had indeed happened were the two bite marks on her wrist.
FORTY
Although Chris was feeling divine after feeding she needed to move on, as a town called America was waiting. She rode her powerful horse with speed and determination until she arrived at the spot where she had left the War Machine.
She jumped off the horse and fueled up the car with gas she had taken from Samantha’s house. With a swat to horse it was off, a minute later she felt a rush she hadn’t felt in a long time: excitement to see old friends she missed dearly.
Chris drove through the night, knowing that a town called America wasn’t far off. Off the interstate, through a few small towns, she came to the River Charlie, at which point she knew she was very close. Only a few miles later, she came to a stop and stepped out of the car. Unsure what she was looking at, Chris questioned whether this actually was the right town. Could this really be a town call America?
This certainly wasn’t how Chris remembered it. A town called America was simply a farmhouse when she left. There were no fortification; that was the entire point.
There hadn’t been guard towers or telephone poles cut into giant spears placed around the perimeter.
Whatever this place is, it looks like a prison, Chris thought. How is this possible? America was established as a new hope for humankind, a place free from fighting and death. It couldn’t possibly have turned into this. This place is everything America isn’t supposed to be.
Not thinking twice Chris left the War Machine, slung her duffel bag over her shoulder, and started walking. As she walked closer and closer to town, she saw more and more devastation. Bodies that had to be months old were scattered around the outside of a wall that was twelve feet tall and made of plywood, sheet metal, and logs. The wall appeared to have been made in a hurry, without much care or thought.
Am I too late? she wondered. What the hell could have happened here?
After walking past the junked cars and scorched ground, Chris made her way through an open space in the wall that looked as if it had been created from an explosion from the inside.
Now that she was inside, there was no doubt that this place once had been a town called America. In the distance she saw the white farmhouse where she, Rick, and Robbie once had lived.
There was no sign of life anywhere. Nearly all the buildings had been destroyed; only a few still stood, and they looked burned from the inside out.
If Chris hadn’t seen the farmhouse with her own eyes, the only thing that would have convinced her this was a town called America was a sign on the ground that read, THE CABIN.
Where were the survivors? Were there any? Who had done this? As Chris stepped over body after body, she realized the townspeople had been burned alive. This had to have been the work of the M.M., she thought.
As Chris walked through the center of town, she sensed she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a person she sensed, and it wasn’t a vampire, so what was it?
Silence, a slight breeze, and then it happened. Standing at the other end of the street was her father, Billy, wearing his duster and black cowboy hat. Chris just looked at him, thinking, nothing ever really changes. Then again, having lived her life, she thought, well, some things really do change.
“My God, it’s good to see you,” Chris yelled to Billy as she quickly moved toward him.
Billy was still standing in the street, looking at her, silent and motionless.
“Billy, what happened here?” Chris called out. “Are you OK?”
As Chris walked closer, it became apparent that this entire scene was somehow wrong; Billy wasn’t acting right.
As she moved down the street, the realization that she had made a huge mistake by coming to America became very clear. Walking out of two burned buildings on the left and right were two more men dressed just like Billy. They walked over to Billy and stopped on either side of him. The only thing Chris knew at that moment was that none of these men were Billy.
Chris stopped twenty feet from them. “Let me guess. You’re the Ghost of Christmas Past, and you’re here to teach me a lesson,” she said to the man in the middle. “Hmm…and you two dipshits must be Christmas Present and Future,” she added, trying not to laugh.
“We’re here to recl
aim what you’ve stolen from the Nine,” the man in the middle said.
“Ah, you want my life. Is that it? Next you’re going to tell me I don’t have the right to be a vampire, and I can’t be human, so you’re going to take my life.”
“That’s correct.”
“I don’t think today is the day I’m gonna let you take my life. Trust me, my friends will be here soon enough. What you don’t sense their presence as I do?”
Suddenly Billy leapt from a nearby rooftop, landing at her side as Robbie stepped out from inside the same building.
“See, I told you so. Doesn’t this even the odds a little?”
“Hey, it’s good to see you again,” Robbie told Chris.
“Yeah, it’s good to you too, Robbie.”
“Billy,” said the Ghost standing in the middle, “we need to stop meeting like this. It’s always something with you.”
“Well, you three know me well enough,” Billy said, “and if you think I’m going to stand by and do nothing, well, you’re out of your minds. Don’t forget that I’m a Ghost too, but if you want to dance, let’s go!”
“Perhaps once upon a time you were a Ghost,” the man said, “but now all I see is a sad old man trying desperately to cling on to something he had no right to create. You were a Ghost, and then you got greedy. You knew the consequences, and you still deliberately stole from the Nine.”
“Billy?” Robbie said. “What’s he saying about you stealing?”
Billy shrugged. “Well, I may have kind of borrowed something from the Nine before I left the M.M.”
“You drugged Mr. Black and stole his blood,” the man in the middle said. “You knew as a half breed you were forbidden to do so, but you did it anyway.”
Through his mind Billy explained to Chris something he’d never told her. After the Nine had been placed to control the population of humans, four Ghosts had been placed to control the vampire’s population. To be used by the nine, at their discretion to hunt down all vampires outside of the nine. The Ghosts weren’t vampires themselves; they didn’t require blood. They were, however, like vampires in that they couldn’t be exposed to the sun, and they held the same ability to heal as vampires did. Their original origins however had been lost to time. Not even the Nine knew exactly how the Ghost came to be, they only knew that the Ghost were humans that had been selected to carry out the hunting of vampires.
A Town Called America Page 20
