Vamp-Hire

by Rice, Gerald Dean

  Nick fell into that last category, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what his Skill was. He didn’t know if the relationship thing was an actual Skill or if he was just naturally perceptive. He didn’t think it was something impossible for a human to do, like the vamp he’d known at the Center who could smell lies. There were people who’d been trained to notice facial tics, changes, and other nervous behaviors in breathing who could do much the same thing by sight. By what mechanism he could suss out such things really didn’t make a difference, he could do it, and he was a vamp. Nobody would bother devising a test to determine why, it would simply be supposed his vamp-ness was the reason.

  They found the chainsaws and Dolph went to the very end of the displays. He ran his hand over a few and scanned the descriptions.

  “What we want is something lighter, anti-vibration. Cuts down on user fatigue.”

  “I don’t think we’ll be cutting anything for too long,” Nick said.

  “Probably not. I still want to be as ready as possible.”

  The chainsaws still didn’t solve the problem of how to get Phoebe and Randy away from the bad guys before they could kill them. Hopefully Team Beta, as Clip had declared them, would be able to help with that.

  At first, everyone thought the solution was to simply kill the old man in the lab coat. Dolph had quickly schooled them all in the lobby of the hospital. The rabisu jumped from body to body, and while it couldn’t be killed, its host could die. It needed to stay in close proximity to its host, venturing out sparingly. Like within a few dozen feet. So Team Beta had gone back to the military facility on the off-chance he had stayed there and to grab any weaponry they could find. When Nick had told them about the tight security, the young vamp had it already figured out: they would just go back in the emergency exit door. He’d begun explaining it to Nick, who had simply waved him off, trusting he could do what he’d said.

  An employee in a gray smock came over and gave Dolph a lazy, two-fingered salute.

  “Afternoon, gentlemen, can I help you?” He had an easy smile and crinkles at the corner of his eyes. Nick would have guessed him to be mid-forties.

  “We’ll take two of these,” Dolph said, gesturing to an Echo chainsaw on display.

  “Now that’s a lot of chainsaw there. What do you have to cut down in such a hurry?” His smile was cigarette yellow and Nick could smell that he’d had a smoke not that long ago. There was something off about this man and even though he hadn’t done anything to offend him, Nick felt a surge of hate bubbling out of the pit of him.

  “Me and my boyfriend like saw-play,” Nick said. “If you don’t mind we’d like to get to it sooner than later.”

  “Oh, uhh, well, let me get those for you.” He pulled the keys attached to a retractable cord on his belt and unlocked the cage beneath the display. ‘Doug’, as his nametag indicated, had a bruise along the edge of his hand disappearing up his sleeve. Nick watched him fish out the two chainsaws, contemplating chopping him in the throat when he stood up.

  “If you guys want the scabbards and cases with these—”

  “We’re fine with these,” Dolph said, plucking his out of Doug’s cradled arm. Nick took the other one. “You sell gas here?” Dolph was putting extra growl into his tone and the salesman looked on the verge of letting fly out of every lower body orifice.

  “No.” “Then you can show me where you keep the tubes for siphoning.” Doug went on staring up at Dolph. “Now.”

  The place was near empty and checkout was fast. Doug tried to pass them off on a cashier but Dolph had insisted he check them out instead of having them wait in line. Nick grabbed a few chocolate bars to be rung up as well.

  As he handed Dolph the receipt the old man took it and leaned in close. “If you hit him again, he should kill you. If I find out you did, I will.”

  Doug nodded and they quickly left. Once back at the Hummer, Dolph used the tube to siphon gas out of vehicle’s tank.

  “You said ‘he’ to Doug. How did you—”

  Dolph fixed him with one eye. “It was written all over him. Simple as that.”

  Nick didn’t think it was simple as that, but didn’t push. He didn’t actually care; he’d bothered asking for the same reason Dolph had entertained answering: it was something to fill the space in the time before. Nick could sense it was the same with Dolph despite his crusty exterior—the silence was tortuous. Dolph hung back for Nick to initiate anything resembling a conversation, however, he was near enough to eager to answer. Dolph had to have loved Phoebe and Randy more than Nick had belatedly realized he did for the simple fact he’d been in their lives longer.

  Dolph filled the chainsaws carefully from his gas tank. Unlike in movies where someone siphoned until they got a mouthful of gas, he’d been careful not to do that, looking for the first time hesitant in Nick’s estimation.

  “I hate the smell of gasoline,” Dolph said unprompted. “It makes me nauseous.”

  “It doesn’t bother me,” Nick said. “I could have done it.”

  “No. They’re not your responsibility.” He yanked the length of tubing out, letting the gas still in it spill out as he tossed it casually aside. He put the cap on his chainsaw and Nick did the same.

  An incredible wave of guilt came over Nick. They were well en route to certain death and he hadn’t bothered being honest.

  “Dolph, I need to tell you something...” Either his tone or his prefacing statement grabbed all of Dolph’s attention. “That first day, at the house, I wasn’t looking for work. I… I live there. Phoebe texted me to tell me all the work you were having done. All this time I’ve been bouncing place to place, waiting for you to leave so I can go back home. But we’re just roommates.”

  “You live there?” He sounded thoroughly shocked, which in turn shocked Nick.

  Dolph fired up his chainsaw and Nick realized he’d chosen the absolute worst time to tell him that tidbit of info. Five feet away from him stood a military-sharpened, barehanded Mozart of pain and now he had an instrument that could render Nick in several large pieces in seconds.

  Instead of slicing him in two or in any number of pieces he turned his chainsaw off and indicated Nick’s.

  “Turn yours on,” he said. “See if it works.” He did so while Dolph set his on the back seat and climbed in. It worked fine and Nick cut the motor, putting his in the back opposite the other. By the time he’d gotten in and was reaching to shut his door they were screeching toward the street.

  Nick wanted to ask something. What, though? He wanted to start up some banal conversation, however, nothing beyond pondering the decision behind choosing an octagon as the official shape of stop signs would come to mind.

  He settled on something and was opening his mouth to speak when Dolph said, “I can’t kill you because I need you. I can’t let you die because then I can’t kill you later.”

  “Okay,” Nick said, hoping that was Dolph’s version of gallows humor. The man didn’t smile. They took Dequindre to Big Beaver and turned right. The old Somerset Mall was a straight shot, a few miles away.

  He carefully unwrapped one of the chocolate bars and bit off half of it. Nick hadn’t realized he was hungry until then. His stomach groaned in anticipation of food, but it tasted like he was chewing on wax.

  “That’s not the same as what I gave you. It’s a purer form of chocolate along with a few other choice ingredients.”

  Nick looked at him, realizing what it was.

  “Blood.”

  “No. Close though.” Dolph’s smirk looked cruel in that moment and he must have felt like he was striking back for Nick’s deception. “Let’s just say that what I gave you is rich in lipids and nutritious proteins.”

  Even though the candy bar Nick was eating wasn’t what Dolph had given him, he couldn’t swallow it. He pressed a button to roll down the window and spat out the chocolate, wiping the trail of brown saliva that had plastered to his chin. He turned an evil look on Dolph.

  “You
r great-grandson eats it too. Yeah, I know he’s a vamp.”

  Dolph shrugged. “So far as he’s concerned it’s plain candy.”

  There were only a few active traffic lights between here and the mall even though it was a near five mile stretch, and with Dolph’s heavy foot they made it there in about four minutes. The mall had been constructed as two separate buildings, one on the north side of the street and one on the south, connected by a skywalk. He was about to ask which building they should go to when he saw the south side building had been reduced to rubble save for a north-facing wall.

  Dolph pulled the Hummer up on the sidewalk and stopped. “Get out.”

  “What? What about the plan?”

  “Won’t work. They still haven’t found the old man. I have a relatively good idea how to put the genie back in the bottle if we’d had him. Without him, we have no choice.”

  “He’ll kill them.”

  For an instant Dolph’s eyes looked slightly more moist than normal. “He may have done that already. The only thing this is is a trap. He wants you and we can’t let him have what he wants.”

  “I don’t accept that.” Nick shook his head like a three year old. “What are you gonna do?”

  “Go inside. Do my best Rambo impression.”

  “Who’s Rambo?”

  Dolph only shook his head. He was prepared to walk into a death trap if that meant there was the slimmest of chances of saving Phoebe and Randy.

  “There’s no chance of us making it out of this. Get out of the car and head south. I’m going to keep them busy until the strike team comes.”

  “What strike team?”

  “The one that’s going to firebomb this mall into oblivion at three o’clock sharp.”

  Nick checked the display on the Hummer’s dashboard. It was 2:22.

  “The rabisu is supposed to be unkillable. That’s not going to stop anything!”

  “It’ll wipe out his super lackeys and he’ll have to start all over. Maybe he’ll be weak enough for us to catch him. If this hadn’t been a black operation we might have been able to track him by GPS.” Dolph pounded the steering wheel. Surprisingly, the steering wheel didn’t break.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He probably has a cell. If we had the number we could track it.”

  “And why can’t we do that?”

  “Because. We don’t have the number.”

  “So? Leonard’s cell has to be listed in some military directory. If we know he’s in the mall, either GPS shows he’s in there because the rabisu has it or the real Leonard has it and the guys can grab him.”

  Dolph narrowed his eyes. Nick had come to learn this was a sign of his wheels spinning.

  “I know somebody who might be able to help me with that.” His hands were already moving over his cell, opening the back and putting that little chip back in. Nick was surprised again that such thick fingers could move so deftly. A second later the old man had the phone to his ear.

  “Yo, I need you to find someone right now. Lieutenant Gregory Leonard. No, not that one. Yes, give me his number. Got it.”

  He looked at Nick as he dialed another number. “I’ve been so preoccupied with strangling him to death I missed the solution right in front of my nose.” He put the phone back to his ear and a moment later someone picked up. Dolph recited the number and was nodding when the Hummer flipped over.

  Nick could feel them walking around the Hummer. They could have kicked in a window or ripped off a door, but they hung back. What were they waiting for?

  As if in answer, Nick heard a siren. He felt a tiny surge of hope before realizing that the officers wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Nick had to pull himself off Dolph, who’d been knocked unconscious. He would have guessed such a thing to be impossible, then remembered a peanut had almost killed him.

  If he were the one they wanted, Nick was going to make them sing for their supper. He got on his hands and knees and crawled to the back, swiping blood out of his eyes. He made the mistake of licking his fingers and realized instantly this wasn’t his blood. He looked back at Dolph and saw a knot on the corner of his head and a steady trickle of blood pulsing from it.

  He located one of the chainsaws and saw the chain was busted. The other one had bounced all the way to the rear window.

  Nick grabbed it just as the first police officer screamed. There were several shots in rapid succession and he used the opportunity to rear back and kick out the rear driver side window. He got out with the chainsaw and put his back to the Hummer. After three deep breaths, Nick stepped around and began walking toward the cruiser.

  One of the vamps had a police officer held up by his throat, an impossibly wide smile on his face and a forked tongue lolling down to his chest. The officer was alive, holding onto the creature’s arm to keep his neck from snapping. It took a moment for Nick to spot the other vamp, mostly obscured by the cruiser, hunched over the splayed legs of the second officer. The only way he could have described the messy sounds coming from over there were eating.

  Nick thought of the blood he’d tasted. He felt tingly, though not on the verge of fainting like the other night. He understood how vamps might become addicted to blood, and he had no desire to go down that road.

  If he was supposed to be like them then maybe he was as strong as them too. He cranked the chainsaw and it roared to life. The one on the ground went on feasting, paying him no mind. The other turned its head, his tongue retracting into his mouth. Nick noticed something about it that he should have seen on Brandon.

  It was dying.

  Nick was certain even if this vamp didn’t know it. Its face was haggard, filled with wrinkles and splotches. He—Nick supposed the creature was a he—may have been a monster, but it was an ill one. He could even scent illness wafting off it over the smell of oil from the buzzing chainsaw.

  He smiled and charged. The vamp tossed the officer at him and Nick dipped to the side, picking up speed. The vamp clawed the air, warning him away, giving up precious seconds it should have been running. Nick chanced a look over his shoulder and saw the other vamp as he passed and it still didn’t appear to have noticed he was there.

  He waved the chainsaw around in his arms for more effect and the vamp turned all the way around to run.

  Unfortunately for the creature, the county had fallen behind on its duty to maintain the road and the vamp stepped into a pothole, tripped, and went sprawling. Nick caught up quickly, raising the chainsaw high over his head to strike.

  He found that he couldn’t. The vamp had reverted to a more human form. He looked like he was about Clip’s age and forty years older at the same time. Though the eyes were of a teenager, the face had the jowly look of a senior citizen who had lost a great deal of weight over a short period of time.

  “Please,” the boy said. “I’m sorry, I’m just so hungry.” Nick knew he should strike, that this was some sort of stalling tactic until he gathered his confidence or saw Nick’s attention had waned and sprang upon him. He stayed put, or rather, scooted away from him.

  This wasn’t his enemy, this was just some kid. Sure, Nick couldn’t justify him and his friend eating the police, neither could he simply slaughter him. Maybe it was more about him than the person crawling away from him. He dropped his hands.

  His shoulders were starting to burn anyway.

  Nick couldn’t let him go. He had to be arrested or something. Nick didn’t have time. He needed to be inside that mall right now, figuring a way to get Phoebe and Randy away from Cain and his minions.

  While he was thinking, he didn’t notice the person walking up until he was about ten feet away. It was Leonard! The old man had on a fur-lined puffy coat and he turned down the hood when Nick looked at him. Leonard took off one mitten and knelt next to the vamp still on the ground.

  “You’ve broken your ankle,” he said. “It doesn’t even hurt, does it?” He reached for the boy’s cheek and the young vamp pulled away.

  “No. Don
’t.”

  “It’s okay,” Leonard said. “It’s okay. It’s over for you now. All over.” Nick didn’t understand until Leonard laid a hand over his face. The boy hissed like a cat and his skin started cooking. It had begun to rain and each droplet of water that touched his face sizzled and evaporated. He struggled weakly, not actually touching Leonard to try to push him away.

  After the old man’s fingers had melted into his face the boy’s struggles intensified, then abruptly ceased.

  Leonard pulled his hand out of the dead boy’s face, wiping off black-red muck on the boy’s tattered shirt.

  “There isn’t much time.” He stood. Nick took a step back, still holding the idling chainsaw. “Is it only you standing in his way?” Nick raised his weapon as if to ward him off, but the old man only flicked his eyes at it. “That won’t be enough.”

  “I’d say he’s a good start,” Dolph said. They both looked and saw him holding a gun on Leonard. Nick took another step back like the man would explode if shot. Leonard went on with his ice-blue stare.

  “Is it your granddaughter and great-grandson he has?” The gun wavered in Dolph’s grip, only slightly. He pinched one eye shut as blood trickled into it. “I’m not here for you,” Leonard said. “I’ve come for the rabisu.”

  “You’re lying,” Dolph said. “You can’t lift a finger against him.”

  “I couldn’t lift a finger against him or perceive him. Someone has done something to him. Things are different.” He looked into the sky then settled on Nick. “Did you do something to one of his intermediums?”

  Nick held up the chainsaw, then he thought of Kim. Leonard’s eyes flicked down and back up.

  “No. That would only do physical damage. This was much more.”

  “My Skill,” Nick said. “I tapped into his nervous system and severed Cain’s connection to him.”

  Leonard narrowed his eyes. Nick had the feeling they could see his lie, but the old man didn’t call him out on it.