Alex Rains, Vampire Hunter (Book 2): Hell Night

by Kincade, Matt

  “Tinfoil,” said Alex. “You're talkin' about tinfoil. We're gonna escape from zombies the same way you'd get better reception on an old TV set.”

  Billings smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. “More or less.”

  Tom said, “It's too bad we can't get to my house. I always keep a stock of tinfoil to make hats out of. It keeps the government from reading my thoughts.” After a deadpan silence, he looked around the room. “Kidding. Jeeze, I'm kidding. I'm not that crazy. I think I saw a roll of tinfoil in the cafeteria.”

  “I'm pretty sure there's still a roll of chicken wire in the theater room,” said Josh. “They always used it to do paper–mâché, for props and stuff. Do you think that would that work?”

  “That would be perfect,” said Mr. Billings.

  “Alright, why don't y'all go and fetch your tinfoil and chicken wire, and me and Buck are going to see about getting to the bus.”

  ***

  Alex leaned a ladder against the eaves in the courtyard. He, Billings, Buck, and Rachael climbed up onto the roof. They walked up to the edge and looked out over Old Mine Road. The zombies looked like shifting smudges in the darkness, milling and shuffling, groaning hungrily, still chanting, “My love . . . my love . . . send out my love . . . give us Emily and you live . . .”

  “Christ, that's creepy,” said Rachael. She glanced back toward the courtyard. “The poor girl. And I thought I was the queen of attracting lunatic asshole men.” She laughed. “Look at me. Never thought I'd be pitying Little Miss Perfect.”

  “On the plus side, looks like he's runnin' out of zombies. We took out a pretty good chunk of 'em just now.”

  “You mean you took out a good chunk of them,” said Rachael.

  “Let's not get overconfident,” said Billings. “Dan is a lot of things, but he's far from stupid. We shouldn't underestimate him. I think he simply didn't plan on there being anyone in town with your . . . capacity for destruction.” Alex grinned at that. “You were the wild card. But even so, there has to be a second phase to this, which is why I agree that the best option is to run and get reinforcements. Sooner or later, the other shoe is going to drop, and we aren't going to like it.”

  “I can't disagree.” Alex had Harbaugh's binoculars. He focused on the maintenance sheds on the other side of the blacktop ball courts. “So, the bus is in that far shed?” he asked.

  “You got it,” Buck answered.

  “Well then, I think this might be real interesting. That's a long ways, with a bunch of hungry dead folk between here and there.”

  Buck replied, “All we have to do is get inside the garage. So it all depends on how long you take with those picks. If we run, it might buy us a minute or two. Then once we get in there, we can just lock the doors until I've got the bus ready. It shouldn't take that long.”

  Alex nodded. “Then we just open the garage door, pull the bus around to the back door of the school, run down any zombies what get in our way, and off we go. We hit the highway and leave the gol-damned zombies and sorcerers behind.”

  Buck said, “If we manage to get to the garage without being noticed, we can just hang something over the window of the garage. The zombies might not even know we’re in there.”

  “That's a big if,” said Alex. “What we need is something else to keep their attention. We need a distraction.”

  “Let's think,” said Billings. “What would distract an entire horde of zombies? What's Dan's blind spot?”

  They all arrived at the same conclusion. They looked at each other.

  Rachael said, “Oh, the poor girl.”

  ***

  By the light of a single candle, Tom made his way down the hallway toward the cafeteria. His shoes squeaked on the tile floor, and the sound echoed down the empty hall. He thought he heard a noise, the whisper of breath, the hiss of cloth. He glanced around nervously, cupping his free hand around the candle's flame, ignoring the sting of wax on his fingers. There. He heard it again. Slowly, carefully, he removed his free hand from the candle and gripped the pistol in his waistband, his eyes searching the darkness past the candle's reach.

  Something crashed down hard on Tom's forearm, and the pistol was yanked from his hand. He staggered back, swinging blindly. The candle fell and went out. A hard edge smashed against his throat and drove him back against the wall. He gagged and fought for breath. Then he felt the pistol barrel dig into his left eye.

  Josh was there, inches from his face, his forearm pressed against Tom's throat, wearing an expression of grim murder. “You touch her, I'll fucking kill you. You understand me? I. Will. Fucking. Kill. You. You so much as suggest that we send her out that door to that asshole, and you're a dead man. I'll shoot you down in front of everybody. I don't even care. You fuck with her, and you're dead. Understand?”

  Tom nodded vigorously. “Yeah, kid, yeah! Jesus, be careful with that—”

  Josh jammed the pistol barrel harder into Tom's face, and the elbow dug into his throat until he retched. “You think I'm joking?!”

  “No, kid—Josh. No. I'm . . .” something seemed to deflate in Tom. He looked down at the floor. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said. It was wrong. I was scared. It was . . . cowardly. You're a better man than me.”

  “Don't forget it.” The pressure left Tom's throat, and he slid to the floor. Josh tossed the pistol down the hall and stalked off into the darkness.

  ***

  “There you are!” said Emily, when Josh rounded the corner. “I thought you said you'd be right back.”

  “I had to pee,” said Josh. “I'm back now.”

  Josh and Emily crept down the north hallway, past the English rooms, on their way to the auditorium. “I swore I'd never come back here again after I graduated,” said Josh. He held up a candle lantern he'd fashioned from a tin can. It cast a wan glow down the hallway, illuminating a row of lockers and a drinking fountain.

  “Me, too,” said Emily. They walked a few more steps together in silence. Suddenly, she said, “Oh my God, I just can't believe Mr. Sinder. What a freak! How can you even be so wrong about somebody?”

  Josh nudged her shoulder. “See, I always said he was evil. You thought I was exaggerating.”

  She shoved him playfully. “Shut up, you didn't mean zombie necromancer evil.”

  “Sure I did. Remember that one time when I said, 'I wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Sinder turned out to be an evil wizard or something, and he tried to kill us and the entire town with zombies.'”

  “Weird, I don't remember that.” She turned to him. “I mean, you were right, though. I just wanted to say that. You were right. Everybody was right. He treated me like I was better than everybody else. Like I was special. He told me over and over that I was the only competent student in the school, that I was the best. And I wanted to believe it. I guess on some level, I did believe it.”

  “Hey, don't worry about it. It's tough keeping a level head when people are telling you how great you are. I mean, look at Kanye.”

  Emily laughed. “Shut up.”

  “But you were the best student in school. He wasn't lying about that.”

  They reached the doorway to the drama wing. Emily pulled the door open, and Josh shined the candle lantern inside. Giant paper–mâché heads and Corinthian columns, sloppily painted with vines, loomed out of the darkness, tinted orange in the candlelight.

  Emily walked up to one of the columns and ran her hand along the crudely molded fluting. “Remember these from Romeo and Juliet? That was fun.”

  “Fun for you, maybe. You played Juliet. I was the Apothecary.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, but you nailed those three lines.”

  “Whatever. I guess.”

  Emily turned to him and clasped her hands. She batted her eyes dramatically and touched her hand to her chest. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.”

  Josh stood like a
deer in the headlights.

  She smiled. “What, you don't remember the lines?”

  “I only learned, 'Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua's law is death to any he that utters them.'”

  “Oh, shut up. You helped me learn my lines. You have to remember some of it.” She took his hand. “Now you say, 'Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?'”

  Josh swallowed. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

  “Perfect! She danced on the balls of her feet. Now I say, 'Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.' And then you say, 'O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.'”

  “O, then . . .” Josh faltered.

  “O, then, dear saint . . .” Emily prompted.

  Josh looked at the floor for a long moment, then back up. He met her eyes and sighed. He said, “O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

  “See? You're a better Romeo than Tommy Favreau was. He should have been the Apothecary.” She batted her eyes again and touched the back of her hand to her forehead. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.”

  Josh breathed the next line. “Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.”

  “I knew it!” She slugged him in the chest. “You do remember!”

  Josh blinked and shook his head. “We should get that chicken wire.”

  “Yeah, you're right.” She picked up the candle. “I think it's over here somewhere.”

  “Yeah, here it is.” He pulled the roll, three feet tall and a foot around, away from the pile of random props and construction scraps in the corner. “I guess this is what we're looking for.”

  Suddenly, Emily stopped. She threw up her hands and made a wordless growl of frustration. “I just . . . ugh! Mr. Sinder. I can't even . . . I can't stop thinking about it. It's . . . a violation. He was my mentor. He was like a father to me. But all this time he was just buttering me up, flattering me, pretending to be my best friend, because he wanted to . . . because he wanted me.” She made a disgusted face. “God, what a sleazeball.”

  She turned back and saw the hurt on Josh's face. “Oh,” she said, quietly. “No. I didn't mean . . . I mean, Mr. Sinder was . . . that's different.” She reached out and touched his arm.

  Josh turned away. “You knew,” he said, looking at the columns and the painted scenery. “You always knew, right? You'd have to be blind not to see it. But you pretended you didn't because you didn't feel the same way. I knew it, so I never said anything. We both just let it go at that.”

  After a pause, Emily nodded. “Yeah.” Her voice cracked. “I mean . . . I couldn't . . . It's such a cheesy thing to say. I didn't want to lose you as a friend. Everybody wanted to date Little Miss Perfect, you know? I could get another boyfriend in fifteen minutes. But where would I find another actual friend? I don't honestly have that many.”

  Josh said, “Yeah. Me either.” He turned away and paused for a moment, then turned back. “I've always been your friend, you know. That's never been a lie. I can't help that I wanted more. I've only ever tried to be the friend you wanted me to be. I wish I could turn it off. I never wanted to be that guy, you know? Waiting on the bench for the quarterback to twist his ankle. I just . . . I wanted you to be happy, you know? If Chet made you happy, who was I to say anything? You've got this amazing future, and I'm just some nobody. I'd just hold you back.”

  “Josh . . .” She stepped up close to him. “Hey, I didn't mean . . .” After a moment's pause, she said, “I've got a bad habit of letting people make my choices for me, whether it's what I want or not. It got to be so I didn't even know the difference. I thought that what I wanted was to do what everyone told me to do.” She laughed bitterly. “God, that doesn't even make any sense. But you're not a nobody. And you've always been there for me. More than Chet was on his best day. Don't think I didn't notice.” She leaned in and kissed him once, briefly, on the lips.

  Josh swallowed hard. He breathed, “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

  Emily smiled shyly and blushed in the candlelight. “Aw.”

  They stood there for a moment, holding hands. After a moment's pause, Josh closed his eyes and leaned in again.

  Mr. Billings banged on the door frame. “Hey, are you two in there? Hurry up! We're getting worried back here.”

  Josh shook his head again. “Be right there, Mr. Billings!” He gave Emily's hands one more squeeze, then let go and picked up the bale of chicken wire.

  ***

  The rest of them had already gathered in the science classroom. A big, shiny roll of aluminum foil lay on the counter. Tom looked abashed. He wouldn't meet Josh's or Emily's eyes.

  “There you kids are,” said Rachael, with a raised eyebrow. “We were afraid you got lost.”

  “It took a second to find the chicken wire,” said Josh.

  “Uh-huh. Look, anyway, Emily, we need to ask you a favor.”

  Emily suddenly looked uncertain. “I don't like the way you're all looking at me right now. What do you have in mind?”

  Rachael sighed. “Alex and Buck are going to sneak out the back to the bus shed. We're hoping that we can create a little distraction, something to catch Dan's attention, so maybe the zombies won't notice them.”

  “I've got a really bad feeling I know why you're telling me this.”

  “Look, we just want you to talk to him. You'll be up on the roof, and they'll be down below. And we'll be right there with you. You'll be completely safe. I mean, comparatively completely safe.”

  “What am I going to say to him?”

  “Just make him think you're considering the offer. You don't have to commit to anything, just . . . I don't know. Ask him some questions.”

  Emily quietly nodded her head. “Okay, yeah. I think I can do that.”

  “Thank you,” Rachael said. She squeezed Emily's shoulder. “You're a good kid. You don't deserve any of this.”

  “All the tools you're going to need are in there already?” Alex said to Buck.

  “Yeah. As long as everything is still in there, it should be fine.”

  “Alright then,” said Billings. “Does anybody have anything else to add?” The room was silent. “Okay then. Let's get to it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emily, Rachael, and Josh climbed the ladder to the roof. Buck and Alex waited by the far doors, and Tom and Billings stayed in the hallway to relay messages. The sky was still dark, littered with stars, the eastern horizon just tinged with the slightest hint of gray. Coyotes howled over the groans of the zombies below.

  They walked to the edge of the roof and looked down. The crowd of undead saw Emily and crowded in closer, moaning and whining piteously. Emily hugged herself tightly. “What do I say?” she whispered.

  “Hell, I don't know,” Rachael answered. “Just get his attention. I think he'd be enthralled if you read out of the phone book.”

  Josh squeezed her shoulder. “Don't worry. We're right here with you.”

  “Okay, here goes.” She stepped up to the edge of the rooftop and yelled, “Mr. Sinder!”

  Hundreds of clouded, dead eyes focused upon her. A single word rippled through the crowd like a sigh, like the rustle of wind through bare winter trees. “Emilyyyyyy . . .”

  Emily grimaced, and tears ran down her cheeks. “Dan, why? Why are you doing this?”

  The dead crowded in closer, reaching arms toward her as if in supplication. “It is written . . . you are for me . . . it must be done . . . God's will be done . . .”

  “You . . . you murdered people! How could that be God's will?”

  The zombies spoke in a haunting chorus, out of sync just enough for the words to ripple and echo through the crowd. “Behold, I have created the smith that bloweth the coals in the fire, and that bringeth forth an instrument for his work; and I have created the waster to destroy . . .”

  ***

  On the other side of th
e building, Alex and Buck peeked out of the tiny rectangular windows in the back doors. Alex had Harbaugh's rifle slung across his back. As they watched, zombies shuffled away, loping toward the front of the building.

  “I'll be gol-damned. It's working,” Alex whispered. “They're leavin'.”

  Buck nodded. “Let's just give it a few more minutes.”

  ***

  Emily cried, “How can this be what God wants? What kind of a God would want this? Who are you to make that decision?”

  “It was shown to me . . . I was chosen . . . The Lord has elevated me . . . given me power . . . You are chosen as well . . .”

  Emily turned back to look at Rachael, who crouched on the roof out of sight. Rachael made a keep-it-rolling gesture with her hands.

  Emily turned back. “But why me?”

  Down below, hundreds of mouths spoke as one. “You are pure . . . not like the others . . . I've seen it . . . you are promised to me . . . our line will rebuild the race of man in God's image.”

  “God, Mr. Sinder, no! This is wrong. It's so wrong! How can you even do this? What about turning the other cheek? What about loving your enemies?”

  The zombies grew restless, gnashing their teeth and growling in rage. “Turn the other cheek? False words from a false God . . . God of Lambs . . . God of Sheep . . . Thus shall ye deal with them; ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire; and ye shall hew down the graven images of their gods, and destroy the names of them out of that place . . .”

  ***

  Rachael walked over to the inner edge of the roof. When she looked down and saw Billings there, she flashed him a thumbs-up. He walked to the hallway and did the same for Tom. Tom, in turn, crept down the hallway. He turned the corner and saw Alex. “Go time,” he said.

  Alex took one last look out the school's back door. “I don't think it's gonna get any better. Let's go. Quiet now.” He eased the door open, carrying the roll of chicken wire. Buck had the tinfoil. They crept across the quad, over a dying lawn and across the blacktop ball courts.