The Hunters

by David Teves

  "It's too chancy," I said.

  Carl spit. "Chancy? I'll tell you what's chancy. Being stuck out here in the dark. Now that's chancy for you!"

  Quentin was pale with fear. "Carl's right, though I wish it weren't so," he said to us all, looking around at the falling light. "We've got to do something now. If we don't get out of here soon, God knows what might happen!" He looked around at the crash survivors. "No one will be safe."

  We all looked at each other, our eyes conducting a silent debate. It was Ferris who broke the spell and once again became our leader. "Let's go, then," he said. "Let's go now, before the cops keep us here half the night."

  Carl crouched down and locked the front hubs on the Travelall, wearing an expression of glee on his face. "My God, he's enjoying this!" I thought with a shudder.

  "She's ready for four-wheel-drive," he announced.

  We piled into the truck ignoring the puzzled faces that wondered where we thought we were going. Carl guided the Travelall around the twisted Freightliner to the beginning of the dirt trail.

  "Hang on!" Carl yelled as we slid over the curb.

  "Just be damn careful, Carl!" Ferris said. "I don't want Eunice jostled anymore than she has to be!"

  We were immediately plunged into a muddy darkness where the late afternoon sun no longer had the power to penetrate the trees and brush. Carl turned on the headlights and aimed the Travelall up a ruddy slope.

  "How far to the cabin, Eunice?" I asked, trying to judge the time.

  "About a mile, a slow mile. The road's gone bad over the years," she said. "Father used to smooth it out with fresh gravel each spring, but there's no trace of that now."

  She was right. The road was straight, but the potholes and ruts made the going slow. Carl slid the transfer case into Four Wheel High, and hunkered down like a solder driving a tank. I looked at my watch. It was nearly 6:15 PM. Sunset was less than half an hour away.

  We reached what was left of the cabin a few minutes later. It hadn't been much of a cabin anyway, just three rooms and a narrow front porch, and what time and nature hadn't claimed, vandals did. The only part of the cabin that still appeared to be solid was the crooked brick chimney. The walls that surrounded it had gaps a Volkswagen could have driven through.

  "Oh, dear," was Eunice's only comment. I felt bad for her. The day had been filled with pleasant memories, and I wished her last image of this cabin could have been one filled with joy.

  We paused for a respectful moment, four faces staring out at the tattered remains with sadness. Carl ignored the significance of the moment, taking the time to look out at the path that led away from cabin's fading shadow.

  "Which way, Eunice?" he asked, pointing out the windshield. Just east of the cabin the road split, one trail careening directly down the hill, the second rambling off to the right along the ridgeline.

  Eunice looked over the hood of the Travelall and squinted. Her eyes ping-ponged between the two paths, her lips quivering with indecision.

  "Oh, dear," she said. "I just don't know."

  "You don't know?" Carl asked with disbelief.

  "I... I only remember one road. It." her voice choked up as if her mind was digging for a memory she suspected might be gone for good. "One road," she said. "I remember only one road."

  "Well it sure as hell isn't one road now, and we sure as hell can't turn around," Carl said. "We left the scene of an accident, friends. If we double back now, they're bound to do more than detain us."

  "Then what do we do?" Ferris asked. Fear was creeping into his voice. He had his arms around his bride as if protecting her from the past.

  "I vote for going to the right along the ridge line," I said.

  "No," Carl said, vigorously shaking his head. "The downhill way is the most direct. Time's awasting, I say. Let's have Elvis take us home quick."

  "Are you sure, Carl?" Quentin asked, leaning over the front seat. "Seems kind of steep to me. Perhaps Ruben here is right."

  Carl glared out the windshield and clutched the steering wheel tight. "Straight ahead!" he announced, and without allowing further debate, he shoved the old panel truck into gear and headed down the path.

  "I hope to Christ you're right!" I said as the truck jostled over a small log.

  "Just hold on to Eunice and watch for danger!" he declared.

  There was a momentary panic when the truck dipped over the curve of the hill and for a moment we saw ourselves looking out into air, but when the Travelall's nose finally pointed toward the road, we could see that we were descending a relatively clear trail that followed the curves of the hill. Occasionally I could catch a glimpse of the valley floor and sighed with relief as the evening lights of Gilroy twinkled at us from the horizon.

  "Looks like we're headed in the right direction," Ferris said hopefully. Eunice had once again lapsed into silence, staring ahead and clutching onto her hat.

  Carl gave us an "I told you so" grin and confidently maneuvered the Travelall around a tree trunk that partially blocked the road.

  I suppose Carl was going too fast, and that's what almost got us killed before the real fun began. Carl drove like a man on a mission, and ignoring his brother's warnings from the back seat, pushed the Travelall to its limits. At one point he stopped and moved the transfer case into Four Wheel Low, which would allow us to safely descend the steepest grades.

  I suppose he wasn't going any more than fifteen miles per hour, but along the narrow, dark trail it seemed more like sixty. Carl entered a steep turn to the right, and when he brought the truck around we found ourselves looking over the back field of the Rigelio winery, the neat rows of grapes standing tall, like silent soldiers. We also found ourselves looking over a cliff.

  Carl hit the brakes and the Travelall came to a sliding halt, the front wheels half on land and half seemingly on a cloud.

  "Holy Christ!" he yelled. There was a brief moment of suspension, an eternity before gravity played its hand. In that moment we took in the peaceful evening glow of the Salinas Valley, and in the next, Elvis dipped forward on his axle and fell to his frame, his two front wheels hanging over the ledge.

  Carl didn't hesitate. "Everyone out! Now!" he shouted, slamming on the emergency brake. All four doors opened spontaneously and the five of us flew out of the truck as if it were on fire. Even Eunice displayed the uncharacteristic spryness that impending death can sometimes induce.

  "Damn it Carl!" I yelled, stamping my feet. "I told you this was the wrong way!"

  Carl didn't reply. Instead, he went to the front of the truck to survey our situation.

  "Damn rich people!" he yelled, ignoring my complaint. His tone implied that the preceding events somehow had a logical explanation.

  We went to the edge and looked over. A hundred feet below us was the largest swimming pool I had ever seen in my life. It was obvious what had happened; someone, most likely a wealthy member of the Dillian family itself, had built a huge house in the rear of the vineyard, and in an attempt to use all the available space, had cut the once sloping hill and built the Olympic size wonder at its base.

  "Well, that's just great!" Quentin said. "What the hell are we going to do now?"

  "We walk," I replied.

  "Walk?" Ferris asked with dismay. "Eunice doesn't have the strength to walk all the way to town!"

  "Then what the hell do we do?" I asked. "The damn truck is stuck!"

  "Maybe I can back him up," Carl suggested, looking depressed.

  We all looked at Elvis doubtfully. Only a tow truck would get him out of this mess. "If you try and move that truck, you might find yourself swimming laps," I warned, pointing at the pool.

  Carl look dismal. He knew I was right.

  As if on cue, we all looked around. The last gasp of dusk was upon us, and we knew that we were now dreadfully on our own.

  "Look, there must be a way down this hill," I suggested. "At least we can make it to that house down there and get some help."

  Quentin stepped in to take
control. "Carl, get that flashlight from Elvis' glove box and let's get some gear out of the back before that heap takes a swim. The only way out of here is with our own two feet, and I suggest we get going. Ferris, we'll help with Eunice as much as we can, but I'm afraid there's no alternative. We sure as hell can't stay out here all night, and every minute we stand here jawing about our fate is a minute closer to it being sealed!”

  He stopped and looked at us squarely. "Let's not forget who we were, who our fathers were. Sure, we're old, and we don't move as fast as we once did, but we've seen a lot in life. I don't know about you, but I'll take experience over youth any time!"

  "Damn right, Quentin!" Ferris said. "We've survived a hell of a lot worse than this!" He turned to Eunice. "What do you think, honey? Care for a little moonlight stroll?"

  Eunice looked at him and smiled, but I knew that her comprehension of the situation was as thin as a sheet. But for a brief moment, I saw her face drift back to her honeymoon in Carmel, and I knew that a moonlight stroll was just the thing the woman wanted.

  Carl retrieved the things we would need. He handed Ferris and Quentin three stakes each, crucifixes and sledgehammers. With a nod to my preferences, he handed the long axe to me. I held the axe in my hand like Mickey Mantle waiting to take a swing and old memories flooded into my mind--most of them not pleasant. "Let's go," I said quietly.

  "I'm staying with Elvis," Carl announced.

  "What the hell?" Quentin asked.

  "Now, don't argue with me, you heard what I said. I ain't leaving him here alone. I'm more afraid of marauding teenagers than I am of vampires. I don't want to come back tomorrow and find him stripped. You go now, and come sun up call a tow truck and tell them where I am. Until then I'm staying and don't try and talk me out of it!"

  "Stop being stupid!" Quentin said. "It's only a truck!"

  Carl turned and looked at his twin evenly. "I don't expect you to understand, but maybe if you think about our lives you will. Elvis was the one thing that was permanent. When you and I drifted from place to place, he was the one thing I could take with me. We had to leave our kids, Quentin. Have you forgotten about that?”

  Quentin looked away with pain in his eyes. In all the years I had known them, this was the first time they mentioned children. My heart bled for them.

  "Elvis got us out of a few jams in our day," Carl continued, "and I ain't going to leave him now! You understand? It's here we'll take our stand, if you don't mind!"

  A bitter smile broke out on his weathered face. "Don't you worry now. I'll lock myself in, and I'm not about to invite no vampire in with me."

  Carl was, of course, referring to the axiom that a vampire can never come into your house unless you invite him. I knew from experience that that was bullshit, and even less likely to apply to a truck, but I was too anxious about our situation to argue. If the old bastard wanted to spend the night sleeping in his truck, let him, I say.

  Quentin tried, but he soon gave up attempting to reason with his brother. He offered to stay with him, but Carl insisted that he go with us, "just in case".

  With that in mind we left Carl and hiked south along the ridge of the cliff, the light from our single flashlight probing the deepening darkness, searching for a path that would lead us to the safety of the winery. In my younger years, I could have easily scaled the embankment and might have been able to still, but with Eunice, the task was impossible. For better or worse we would have to stick together, and hope that fate would point out a suitable footpath to safety.

  We heard the trouble before we saw it. What we heard was nothing. One moment, the air was alive with sounds; insects creeping, birds squawking their last goodnights to the sun, the scampering of squirrels and raccoons. The next minute there was silence. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Only the sounds of our footsteps echoed through the night.

  "I don't like this one bit!" Quentin said slowly, signaling us to stop. "Not one bit at all!"

  "What is it, Ferris?" Eunice asked in a faraway voice, wondering what had interfered with their honeymoon stroll. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing darling," he replied nervously, patting her hand. "We just scared the animals, that's all."

  Quentin and I said nothing; we both knew this was a convenient lie. Though we had never had gone vampire hunting together, we had all experienced the effect that had fallen upon us now. On those rare occasions when one was away from the comforting sounds of mankind, the impact was quite startling, akin to fingernails screeching across a blackboard. It was one of those events that stirred the ancient, wild animal in us all, and the fight or flee instinct was awakened.

  "Stay together!" I said. "If something's out there, they'll try to separate us!"

  I held the axe tightly; well aware that I was not the man I used to be. Could I possibly wield it as I had when I was young?

  Then a whisper floated from out of the darkness, bending through the trees, tickling at our ears.

  "What was that?" Ferris asked, looking around wildly, as if he had been buzzed by a bee. "It sounded like...”

  "Papa?" Eunice said, pulling away from Ferris' arms and looking out into the night. "Is that you? What? Is it time for dinner already?"

  We all turned to her. Had Eunice finally lost her mind? He was staring with a child-like smile on her face that was so genuine it chilled me to the bone. I plied the flashlight in the direction of her gaze, but saw nothing but the black-green leaves of tangled trees and darkness beyond. We all stood mesmerized as she continued her conversation with nothing.

  "Yes, I'm hungry, Papa!" she replied to an unheard question, twirling her fingers through her hair like a little girl reciting a poem. "So hungry! I've been playing hard all day!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Feed me, Papa!" she hissed. "Feed me!"

  "Oh, my God!" Ferris yelled, shaking himself from the spell. "It's talking to her! Don't listen, Eunice! Don't you listen! It's lying!"

  I shook my head as if to wake myself, realizing with a start that Ferris was right; a spell was being cast, not only on Eunice, but on us all.

  "Sweet Jesus!" Quentin moaned, coming to the same realization.

  We looked around frantically, ancient weapons held at the ready, trying to discover the source of the voice, wondering if we would soon be facing our old enemy. I gulped hard. Though I kept my silence, I had never experienced anything like this during my hunting years. True, vampires were smart and sneaky, but I could not remember ever feeling the sense of dread that fell on me as I looked out into the menacing night.

  Who had come to claim the hunters? Was this the way our lives would end? I was not usually one to dwell on death; I'd seen so much of it during my years, but at that moment I felt for certain that this was the end, that what was out there now, creeping into our minds, playing with our lives was something different, something well beyond what we had ever dealt with before.

  Then, it spoke to me.

  "I am the one of vengeance," it snarled. "I have come to collect what is mine." It was the voice of my father, long dead, long buried in a grave whose location would forever be a secret. "You are mine, Ruben Cruz!" it said. "Just like your father! And like him, you will atone with your life."

  I looked at the others, knowing from the empty expressions on their faces that similar revelations were being been whispered to them. Whose voice did they hear? A dead loved one? A lover long left behind by the sad life of a nomad?

  The pain was too much to bear. I had always known that to be caught by them would be a terrible fate, but somehow, this was well beyond the pale. Had they really taken my father? A deep burning hurt fractured my soul, and I stood powerless to move or stop the psychic bleeding.

  We stood facing each other, the three of us. Eunice had disappeared, but none of us gave it much thought. We took a step toward each other, forming a ragged circle. The voice continued to speak, telling us of our sins, threatening us with our lives, and promising us the gift of forever. Time stood still.

  I heard a
hiss fly through the air, and the darkness began to lift. Then, we saw her standing among the trees, her glowing body outlined by the night. Eunice. I had never seen a more beautiful woman. She was not a day over twenty, and her flowing brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in a waterfall of soft colors. I could smell her sweet perfume fill the air with spring flowers.

  She began to slowly remove her clothes, seducing us with her eyes and the swaying movements of her lithe body. From the corner of my eye I could see Ferris, watching her with pain and lust. He knew as well as we that we were witnessing a cruel lie, a lie that we could not prevent, a lie whose eroticism twisted our souls. Our strength was gone. We could only look, desire and wonder.

  She was now naked, and I swear to you now I had never seen anyone like her before. At that moment I would have killed to have her, and I looked at the others with newborn jealousy. "Come to me," she beckoned as if I were the only man in the world. "Come to me...”

  Her body began to glow brighter, highlighting each magnificent curve, each promising crevice. My world had reduced itself to this single moment. The others, my dearest friends, no longer mattered. Life no longer mattered. The only thing important in this world--was her.

  The light continued to brighten, and at the edge of my perception I heard the trumpet call. "Get out of the way!" it played lazily. "Get out of the God damn way!"

  I turned to look and was blinded by a light, and the wind that swirled in front of it. In the blink of an eye it was on us like a giant beast. I almost turned to accept it when a part of me, the part trained by my father and his father before him to the dangers of our grievous craft, awoke and warned me of the events that would follow. With all the strength I could muster, I broke free from my zombie-like trance and jumped back, away from the woman of my dreams, away from my chance at forever.

  The Travelall was nothing but a blur. At its front, embedded in the hole in the hood was a spear of solid oak, protruding three feet in front of it. At first I thought it was a hallucination, another image of torture to be used against us, but it was not. I caught a glimpse of Carl Winters, his face pressed over the steering wheel, a manic grin on his face, and I knew we had been saved.