by Clark Hays
FIFTY-FIVE
The flight down the tunnel was harrowing and dark. Dad, claiming his heart was failing, brought up the rear just in case the explosion failed to plug the hole. Tucker argued but was overruled, and he, Lizzie and Sully followed the dogs through the darkness.
“Like being in the catacombs again,” Tucker said, straining to make his way as they ran. Alexandra had obviously made the trip a number of times and loped ahead, only to turn back to encourage them on, circling through the survivors in search of her master, then running forward again.
Tucker caught up to Lizzie and pulled her to a stop. “Listen,” he panted, “don’t you need a rest?”
She shook her head, watching nervously behind. “No, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I was exhausted earlier, a little sick, but I’m fine now.”
“Really?”
“Really. Come on, I think I see the end.”
He bent over and sucked air deep into his lungs, pushing Rex out of his face. “Maybe you just don’t feel tired, even though inside you are and need a little rest.”
“Okay,” she said, understanding at last. “We’ll rest.”
“If you really need to,” he wheezed. “But just for a minute or two.”
“Somebody’s coming,” Sully snarled. The conflict had peeled back the effeminate mannerisms he had crafted over the last several hundred years so that all that remained was the essence of a survivor.
They swiveled their heads in unison to see a dark, misshapen figure carrying a sputtering torch making its way toward them.
The tattered shadow was moaning and cursing and Tucker whistled a sigh of relief. “Just Dad. What the hell are you carrying on about?”
“My damn underwear’s wet and I got sand in it.”
“No sign of anyone?” Tucker asked.
“Not yet.”
“Good, ’cause we’re almost out of here. Smell that?”
A cool breeze was drifting among them, rich with the smell of juniper and pine.
“Let’s go,” Lizzie said.
In a matter of minutes, they came to the end, a rough-hewn square cut into the sandstone above and a splintered ladder leading to it. Tucker crawled up first, hand over hand, into the night air to see that it was safe. He found himself in the ruins of an ancient pueblo high up in the canyon, the one he had explored just a few days earlier. From this ledge, he could see the trees and hear the faint muddle of the spring down below.
“All clear,” he whispered. “Come on up.”
Lizzie was halfway there already and stretched her hand through. Her strength was ebbing quickly, due, she feared, to a lack of blood. Tucker helped her through and then let her lean on him as he sat her down against the wall. Dad struggled up next, followed by Sully who leapt up in a bound.
“I gotta get the dogs,” Tucker said, disappearing momentarily and then struggling up with Alexandra. Sully lifted her from his arms and waited as he returned for Rex. Rex fought off his attempted assistance so that Tucker had to crawl up with the greatest of difficulty to deposit his dog unceremoniously on the hard floor.
Standing at the window Tucker could see over the edge of the canyon and all the way to the compound and beyond. In between, the wreckage of the helicopters still guttered and smoked. He kicked at the spent cartridges littering the floor and smiled. “These were Lenny’s,” he said to no one in particular.
“Hope he’s all right,” Dad said.
“He must be,” Tucker said. “He’s the one who set those whirly-birds alight.”
Lizzie regarded the ruined compound, the activity still visible there. “So many lives lost, all for me.”
“The alternative wasn’t so great. And I don’t mean just for me. I mean for the whole world,” said Tucker.
“He’s right, honey,” Sully said as he came to take her hand. “It has to end here. If Julius becomes keeper of the uncreation, I shudder to think what will happen.”
“Lazarus certainly believed so,” Lizzie said.
“If memory serves, Lazarus wasn’t all too keen on getting resurrected in the first place,” Dad said. “Maybe this turned out to be sort of a blessing.”
“It’s nice to think something good came from his death,” she said.
“Now you have to take his place,” Sully said.
Lizzie was incredulous. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Yes,” Julius said, stepping from the shadows of a ruined anteroom. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sully,” he said, his spirits high. “No one could ever replace me.”
Sully responded first, his near-animal-like reflexes driving him into a defensive crouch and then hurling himself at Julius faster than the human eye could follow. Even faster, Julius caught him with his fists in midair and threw him, like Satan from heaven, out the window and into the open space of the canyon. Sully disappeared with a scream, a rattle of stones and a distant thud.
“Son of a bitch,” Dad grimaced, drawing his pistol. Julius swatted it away with a casual gesture that broke the bones of his gun hand like Styrofoam. Dad howled in pain and Julius drove a stiffened finger through his chest, the force of it driving Dad back into the wall where he slid down with a groan.
“Dad, goddammit,” Tucker screamed. He fired the shotgun from his hip, both barrels discharging with a deafening roar. The wooden stakes streaked out, but Julius stepped to the side like a ghost, snatching one from the air. He twirled it around his fingertips with a flourish, then balanced it in his palm.
“Goodness,” he said to Lizzie, “simply being near you makes me feel a thousand years younger.”
He hurled the wooden missile and it plunged deep into Tucker’s shoulder. Tucker’s mouth dropped open as the shock hit him, collapsing beside Dad who drew him close and pressed his good hand over the wound, the butt of the stake poking out between his bloody fingers.
“Tell you what,” Julius said, seizing Lizzie around the waist, “let’s leave the boys alone for a while. We’ve got some catching up to do, daughter.” He sprang out the window, holding her tight, and dropped out of sight to the ruins below. In the quiet left in their absence, Dad pulled Tucker closer to his shoulder. “This is bad, isn’t it?” he said, his face pale from the pain. “Real bad.”
“At least he hasn’t killed us,” Tucker said.
“Yet.” He pulled Tucker’s hand aside to examine the wound. “Hurt?”
“Yep,” he grimaced.
“Reckon you’ll pass out?” Dad asked.
“If I do, how am I going to save Lizzie?”
“I don’t know. Got any ideas?”
“Naw. How about you?”
“Yeah. I should’ve stayed home,” Dad said, cradling his broken wrist.
Tucker straightened his legs. His voice was strained. “Too late for that.”
Dad nodded. “Suppose Sully’s dead?”
“Probably no more so than usual.”
Dad regarded the stake for a moment. “Think we should pull that out?”
“I’d probably bleed to death,” Tucker said.
“We’ve got do something besides sitting here jawing like a couple of old women.”
“Even healthy, the two of us ain’t much of a match for super-Vamp,” Tucker said.
Rex crawled up and licked Tucker’s bloody hand.
Tucker pushed him away absently. “And you sure weren’t much help, you idiot dog. I should’ve got a cat.”
Dad petted Rex on the head. “Wasn’t nothing he could do.”
“He could’ve bit him,” Tucker said.
“Hell, we couldn’t even shoot him,” Dad said.
“Whose side you on?”
“Lizzie’s.”
Tucker sighed. “I best get down there.” He stood unsteadily and Dad pulled himself up alongside him. Leaning together, they made for the front ladder.
“You hear something?” Tucker asked.
“Just the wind.”
“I must be losing my mind,”
Tucker said. “I could have sworn I heard voices.”
FIFTY-SIX
Several levels below them, Lizzie leaned on her hands and knees, her hair hanging down almost to the floor of the moon-drenched pueblo. The roof was long ago claimed by the wind and weather, and the night sky served as a backdrop for Julius, who paced around her in a frenetic circle.
“So, tonight it ends. And here, of all places. Most amusing.” He stopped in midstride to gaze blankly at the walls. “If all these centuries have taught me anything it’s that fate does indeed control our lives, more so than most can imagine.”
His pacing continued. “Many years ago, I had a young lady, also of the blood, and through her I hoped to gain the power of the uncreation. I might have to, if Lazarus hadn’t interfered. To make a long story short, he killed his own daughter.”
His face was manic and twisted. “The guilt destroyed him. He has grieved ever since. Stayed in this desolate place and never left.”
He gestured at the pictographs. “His arrival so terrified the natives, they left their homes and farms by the thousands. One of the ‘mysteries’ that has bothered your historians ever since. And now we are at the crossroads again. Pity you’re not his real daughter.”
“He was a good vampire,” she said, brushing her hair back and rocking onto her heels, “a good man.”
“He was weak. Pathetic. He should have long ago killed you, when you were just a baby.”
She shook her head, jaw set in grim determination. “He did what he had to do.”
“As did I. Including the seduction of your silly little mother. If not for Lazarus and his continual interference, I would have killed her and raised you myself. Just think, Elita and I would have been Mummy and Daddy to you.” Julius laughed then bowed deeply. He saw her eyes narrow.
“Ah, yes, your traitorous little friend Elita. No doubt she has been exterminated by now. I gave her to my men, as an after-work cocktail, so to speak. When they are done, she is to be staked for the sunrise. I shall feed on what’s left of her after I drain the life-blood from your cowboy and his father.”
He snapped his fingers. “Wait, wait. Perhaps I shall turn them as well, so I can make the killing last that much longer. I will be omnipotent.”
“You will have no power to turn a human. I will not give you my blood,” Lizzie said.
He laughed. “I will take it.”
“If it doesn’t come tonight?”
He stroked his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Now that would be problematic. I suppose the timetables are somewhat nebulous for this sort of thing. I’ve got it. Perhaps a vigorous fuck would coax it out.” He paused for effect and leered.
He swooped close and clamped her chin in his palm, wrenching her head sharply up to meet his gaze. “I have had a hundred daughters in my life. Let me be the first to tell you, after the first dozen, the charm wears off. They look the same, feel the same, fuck the same, bleed the same as any other woman I happen to need. Do not for a second imagine I harbor any shred of paternal devotion toward you.”
With a shriek, she lunged to her feet, tearing herself free from his grasp. “What I can’t imagine is why my mother ever let you touch her.”
His eyes flared, a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Because she was weak. Like you.” He smiled, mocking. “I can’t even remember her name.”
Lizzie exploded into him with a roar, her balled fists striking him in the chest and driving him back into the stone wall with such force the mountain shook. His mouth hung open as he struggled to regain his balance.
“Her name was Constance, asshole.” She lashed out again, the force of her rage fracturing his cheek bones.
“You little bitch,” he screamed, throwing her off and across the narrow confines. She struck the wall and like a rubber ball, bounced back into him. He folded over, then twisted out of reach, striking a blow as he did. He stared at her, both of them breathing hard. “You have become powerful.”
Grimly, she nodded.
“The time is close at hand. Give me what I want and you live, you and your cowboy. I offer my protection. In the coming age of chaos, you will be spared.”
She wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t think so. I think it ends here. And I think you’re scared.”
He smiled. “I think you are so very, very young and quite ignorant. You cannot defeat me.” He moved closer toward Lizzie, backing her into a dark corner of the pueblo ruins.
Tucker and Dad were letting themselves down the face of the cliff ruins slowly and methodically, hand over hand. The dogs watched them from above, whining and barking and then disappearing from view, only to return and stare longingly down. The going was torturous and the two men paused at the next level.
“It’s gonna be light soon,” Dad said.
Tucker was staring out into the desert, his eyes glazed with pain.
After a few more seconds and no answer, Dad said again, “Gonna be light soon.”
Still no answer and he shook Tucker by the shoulder. “You okay, boy?”
Tucker started to laugh, deep heartfelt laughter that shook his frame and seemed so foreign originating from that source of pain and exhaustion.
“Tucker, have you gone delirious?” Dad asked.
“It’s all over Dad. He lost. Julius lost.”
They could hear the sounds of conflict just out of sight below them. All those many weeks of trauma and loss now spilled out of Lizzie as they fought like no other beings from the hand of God had ever fought. Her rage influenced gravity itself, releasing its rules so that she floated here and there, always just out of reach.
Julius was striking madly, rarely hitting her at all, while she inflicted tremendous damage on him.
“No,” he screamed, “I deserve the power.”
Her attack slackened and she settled to the ground, her body heaving from the exertion. “You deserve exactly what fate has given you, an empty existence.” The adrenaline began to wane and a familiar nausea returned and with it, a weakness. Her body sagged and Julius sensed it.
His face twisted into a ferocious grin that glittered like a scimitar in the half light. Lizzie paled and backed into the wall.
“All this fun has worn you out.” He approached with difficulty. “Enough talk. Enough sermons. Enough life. Time for you to give your blood to me. All of it.” He tore a rotten rung from an ancient ladder, crumbling the end into a dull point he tested against his fingertip. “Crude, but it will do,” he said. He moved toward her, the stake raised.
She was exhausted, but fought against it and leapt over him toward the open roof. Julius threw the weathered stake like a javelin and it soared straight toward her back.
There was a roar and a flash and the stake shattered in midflight, the splinters raining down around Julius. He spun in anger and saw Tucker leaning on Dad for support, his Casull smoking in his hand.
“Nice shot,” Dad said.
“Will you never go away?” Julius ranted, eyes wild.
“I like to see a job through,” Tucker said weakly.
“This time, I promise, you will.” He lunged toward them in a near-blind rage.
“Tucker,” Lizzie shouted, jumping in between them.
“Careful, darling,” Tucker whispered, shakily hoisting the pistol in an attempt to back Julius down. “A woman in your condition ought not to be jumping around so.”
“What condition might that be, doomed cowboy?” Julius snarled, already imagining Tucker’s sunburned throat under his hands.
“Pregnant,” Tucker answered.
The word hit the air like the crack of a whip, freezing Julius a step away from the two men and Lizzie a half step behind him.
The night loomed over them silently. In the distance, the barking of the dogs carried down on soft winds.
Lizzie’s eyes flared. “What?”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Pregnant?”
“Yeah. We’re pregnant. All
these last two weeks, you’ve been feeling peaked, kind of nauseous, must have been morning sickness, or in your case, night sickness. And you’ve been hungry all the time, and more than a little cranky.”
She brushed past a now-frozen Julius as if he no longer existed and took Tucker by the arm. “How could you know this?”
“That’s the crazy part. Them voices told me. They just filled my head up and told me.”
“Impossible. It is biologically impossible for an Adamite to procreate with a vampire,” Julius said, trying to regain control of the situation. “This is ridiculous, a ploy to stall for time.” He glanced out the window at the light beginning to emerge from the east. “Even dawn will not save you.”
“I ain’t bluffing,” Tucker said. “Use them fancy vampire senses of yours to listen.”
Julius bent his head in concentration and reached out with his mind. The voices flashed through his thoughts, the mocking laughter deafening. “A child will be born, a child will be born,” they chanted and he covered his ears with his hands as if that might block it out. He dropped to his knees, screaming in anguish at what had come to pass.
Lizzie closed her eyes and traveled far inside herself, also in search of the voices, but what she found instead was a tiny heartbeat, muffled but steady, and for an instant she was turned inside out and the heartbeat was her own in the womb of the universe.
Dark, joyful suns rose and set and flared throughout her as the tiny heart drove the whole vast mechanism along. In less than a second, a second that stretched from the beginning of time to the end and doubled back along the way, she too, knew the truth. There was life inside her, life that bridged the world of the living and the world of the undead. The power of the uncreation had found a vessel. It was contained in a holy grail forged of flesh and eternal love, and radiant joy spilled from her.
“You’re right,” she whispered to Tucker, who smiled through his pain.
“Idiots,” Julius raved. “Idiot couplings of idiots to beget idiots. A chance fuck between idiots is not going to thwart my plans.” He drove his fist into his palm. “I will kill you all for the sheer pleasure of it.” Foam flecked his lips and sprayed the air. “I don’t care. I can wait. I’ve waited this long, what’s another seven hundred years?” He took a menacing step forward, eyes glittering and outstretched hands trembling with murderous passion.
