Luke and Matthew uncovered the spot where their brother lay. Daniel stepped over to where Paul's hand was sticking out and freed his ward. Pushing aside the gold with some effort, he yanked the still new vampire through the stone floor. Concrete and dust swirled around and the boys coughed as they gathered around Paul. He looked remarkably well despite his weeks in captivity. The brothers patted him on the back.
Daniel, concerned about more monetary matters, picked up a bar of gold and immediately noticed something odd. It weighed less than any gold he'd hefted previously. Daniel ran a nail over the metal only to flake off gold paint. It was a painted lead bar. Without warning, the vampire lord was slammed into from behind. He hit the wall, spilling trays of money to the floor. As he scrambled to right himself, he saw that only the top bill of each stack was real.
He rolled to find his assailant lunging for him again. It was Paul, who was a lot stronger than he should be, considering. Daniel heard the brothers urge him on.
“Hold him fast, Paul. We'll trigger the door.”
The Dark Lord was nothing if not older and smarter in a fight. He broke free of the young vampire. He lunged for the opening just as the two humans passed through, but before he could follow, an imbedded metal door dropped, sealing him in.
The trap sent an uncomfortable surge of energy through Daniel. He spun around, taking in his situation. Paul was still picking himself up from the floor, fake currency everywhere. The vault was much as they had described otherwise, save for the ceiling; tightly crisscrossed bars lined it, giving off the appearance of a cage.
A cracking like bones breaking sounded as floorboards were pried back, allowing whoever was above to gaze into the cell. Lamps were lit and light streamed into the dim room.
A mismatched crowd stared down at the once lord of the four corners area. One man, in his mid-fifties, leaned over the edge. One arm rested on his knee, the other was curiously missing. The man's gold star glimmered in the gaslight.
“I thought he'd be uglier,” said Sheriff Theodore Patrick.
Daniel called up, “This was all a trap for me?”
“Yup. The Yavapai came to me complaining of an evil preying on their people. Since it wasn't the first time we'd heard tale of people disappearing near the caves, we held a town meeting. It was young Matty here that came up with the idea you might be a vampire. So, we contacted some people in England and they gave us the rundown on your type.”
“Oh, and what was that?”
The sheriff spit tobacco through the grate that landed on a wad of fake money. “The guy said you'd be hungry, untrustworthy and always believing you was smarter than humans. Looks as if he was right.”
“He was and I am.”
Daniel leapt up with all intention of breaking through the metal bars. He gauged them as just small enough for him to pull apart with his bare hands. His speed was nearly blinding and the bars bent in his grip, but a surge of electricity coursed through his body and he shot back to the floor like a comet. Daniel rolled over to his hands and knees. His undead hands where charred. His nostrils flared and eyes watered. It was the closest thing to pain he'd felt since his death.
The sheriff nodded appreciatively. “I added the generator idea as a backup. We weren't sure if you could break through the bars, so I thought some insurance might come in handy.”
Paul hooted and slapped his hands on his legs. Yet all the sighs of relief hushed as the vampire rose to his feet and shook some of the burnt flesh loose. His body was already healing. Daniel pointed at the now quieter Paul.
“And my turning of him was all part of the plan?”
Luke called down, “He was our other back-up. Figured we might need a vamp to trap us a vamp.”
Matthew, now no longer cherubic, said, “You're the demon that killed our father on his way home from Santa Fe! We didn't believe it was Indians for a moment. We just couldn't prove anything until they came forward.”
Daniel occasionally scalped his victims and left them in the desert with native's stuff lying around. The vampire was beginning to realize how sloppy he'd become in his old age.
“And will you slaughter your brother the way you intend to me?”
Luke opened his mouth to speak, but it was Sheriff Patrick who answered, “Nope, the Brit told us he should turn back to normal after we take care of you.”
“He did, did he?”
Several armed Yavapai warriors joined the good men and women of Drowned Horse. They drew their bows and Daniel wondered if he finally understood the men at the Alamo. All this time, he thought he was the hero. He laughed. The laugh grew into a howl and continued to echo as the arrows pierced his body and it exploded into a shower of red.
Paul dodged the debris as best he could, but still found himself wiping ichors off his jeans. He felt his chest, ran a finger over his teeth and even jumped up and down a bit. He seemed happy with the results. “Looks like I'm fine. Let me out.”
Everyone stared.
“What?” asked Paul.
“We need to make sure. Men?”
A small door opened in the front wall and a piglet was pushed through. It squealed and ran around, jumping over the fake gold and money.
“What's this?”
Luke replied, “A test. We've been watering down Matty's blood with the pig's. Last night, it was mostly that.”
Paul understood the nausea and weakness now. He should have been able to hold that bloodsucker fast, instead, he had been tossed like a rag doll.
“Paul, we've got to be sure. You're dangerous enough as a person. If you're still a vampire, then there's no going back, hear?”
“Knock it off, Luke. Get me out of here. I'm telling you I'm back to normal.”
“It's not his call,” said Sheriff Patrick, “It's mine.”
The young man pleaded. “Sheriff? After everything I done to help kill that bastard? This is how you'd treat me?”
The Sheriff took off his hat and returned to his crouched position. “Sorry, son. I've watched you most your life. You were going to do something that would see you hanging on the end of a rope. This way, you go out a hero. Ain't it better this way?”
Paul's eyes implored to his younger brother, but all he saw in return was the same disgust Matthew had shown towards Daniel when the vampire wasn't around. Their father's death had hit him the hardest and Paul realized there was something just as dead inside Matthew as inside himself. When he saw he wasn't even getting a little sympathy from his brothers, the still-vampire Paul went berserk.
He screamed at the assemblage, “You cowards! None of ya had the courage to do this, but I did!” He grabbed the pig in one swift motion and dug his fangs into it as he rammed the entry door. The pig was drained in seconds as Paul's shoulder started making progress. “I'll see you all dead!”
The Indians, their bows rearmed, aimed. The Sheriff turned to Luke and Matthew. “You okay with this?”
Luke sighed, but nodded. “Yeah, Mom said that she'd felt he'd gone bad in the womb. He's been trouble since he could walk. She'll be sad for a awhile, but with the stock sale coming up, we'll be too busy to think about it much.” Trying to change the subject, Luke added, “This might be our best year ever.”
“But, he's still your...”
Matthew cut him off. His eyes were no longer those of an innocent, but older looking, like that of a sage. Maybe it was the years of abuse he'd taken from his older sibling, but the lawman wasn't sure. It was almost like another person had stepped in Matty's place.
“It's better this way, Sheriff. Really.”
Sheriff Patrick took off his hat, shook his head, and gave the signal to the warriors. The trio turned and walked out as the sound of bowstrings sung into the night.
Denver-based author David Boop is a single dad, returning college student and full-time mailroom supervisor. He’s done jobs as diverse as DJ, film critic and Beetlejuice impersonator. As a journalist, he covered the Columbine Massacre. His first novel was the sci-fi noir She Murde
red Me with Science. He’s had over a dozen short stories appear in magazines and anthologies. Born in CT, he keeps moving farther west as he gets older. Stops have included WI, TN, CO, and AZ. General interests include noir and sci-fi films, theater, stand-up comedy and The Blues. Find out more on FaceBook or at www.davidboop.com.
“Bleeding The Bank Dry” started with a line I couldn’t shake, the first one. In its original incarnation it read, “Let me get this straight. You want me to turn you into a vampire to rob a bank?” When I began to build the story I envisioned only one guy, but that didn’t work as I knew the story would ultimately go badly for the guy who was turned. So, I revised it to include three brothers. In its next evolution, Paul was adopted, taken in by the father Daniel killed, but then that also took away from the punch at the climax. I wanted the characters hard, bordering on cold and it was better to show that if they were related. However, I think I did too good of a job, because time and time again the story was rejected. Laura was the first to tell me that the ending didn’t have enough emotion to “sell” it and that if I tweaked it, it’d be golden. So, I added in a few scenes to showcase Paul’s decent into vampire induced madness which justified the ending. By its inclusion into this tome, Laura was right on the money. You’ll be the ones to ultimately decide if I sold it enough.
A Specter in the Light
by
David Lee Summers
I was grading geology term papers late one afternoon. The light in my office was growing faint and I was debating whether I should light the lamps or simply go home for the night – possibly with a stop at the Capitol Saloon – when something banged on the ceiling, startling me. I shook my head and smiled when I realized the new physics professor, Mr. Jones, was working late on one of his experiments. I decided to go upstairs and see whether Mr. Jones wanted to go to the Capitol with me.
I gathered up the term papers – not many since there were only eight students at our fledgling New Mexico School of Mines – and locked them in the desk drawer. Grabbing my coat, I went upstairs. I knew very little about Mr. Ike Jones other than the fact he was a specialist in electricity. Dr. Davis, the college president, had hired him away from the coal mines at Madrid to teach physics and electrical engineering. I found Ike Jones in his office connecting a wire to a contraption he had been building. The contraption consisted of two cylinders of wire nested one within the other. To the side of the cylinders were mounted two wheels with magnets. One of those wheels had a hand crank so one set of magnets could rotate within the other set.
“Can I light a lamp for you?” I offered, unsure whether or not Mr. Jones could see well enough to accomplish his task.
“No thanks, Mr. Delay,” said Jones, with a smile. “I'm just about finished.”
“Please, call me Ted,” I offered.
“Thanks, Ted. Call me Ike.” He retrieved a glass tube from a cabinet next to the desk.
“I just came up to see if I could buy you a drink. We haven't had much of a chance to talk since you hired on a couple of weeks ago.”
“I'd like that,” he said. “But let's take just a moment and see if this works, shall we?” Ike handed me the glass tube.
“What is it?” I asked.
Instead of answering, he reached out and spun the hand crank. There was a buzzing and sparking from the wire-wrapped cylinders and I almost dropped the glass tube.
“Steady on,” he warned and I gripped the tube more tightly. I nearly dropped it again when it began to glow. “Ah ha! It works!”
“It does indeed,” I said, impressed. “I've heard about electric light, but to actually see it...” I shook my head and handed the glass tube back to Ike. “How does it work?”
“The glass tube is filled with argon gas. The wire-wrapped cylinders are a type of generator devised by a fellow named Nikola Tesla about five years ago. The electricity from the generator excites the gas in the tube creating the light. One generator powered by a simple steam engine could light hundreds of these gas tubes.”
I nodded. “That would be great for mining. You don't need wires to bring electricity to the tubes?”
“No. The electricity travels right through the atmosphere.” He smiled again and grabbed his coat from the rack. “Still want to buy me that drink?”
“More than ever. You deserve it!”
“Good, I want to demonstrate this to Dr. Davis sometime this week. I'd like to pick your brain about some of the caves and mines in the area – I want a place for a suitably impressive demonstration.”
“I think I can help you find a good cave,” I said.
With that, he patted me on the back and we went downstairs.
That night, amidst the smoke and noise of the Capitol Saloon, I told Ike about a cave I'd discovered in nearby Socorro Peak. “It's deep enough that you can get fully out of the light of day, but close enough you don't even have to ride. We could walk up if you had a mind to.”
Ike nodded, then took a swallow of his beer. He wiped the foam from his mustache. “Can I get a hand on Sunday? I'd like to take the Tesla generator to the cave and test it out.”
“Sure thing.” I lifted my glass. “Here's to success. God knows the school needs it.”
His brow furrowed, but he lifted his glass anyway. “So, why does the school need a success?”
“I thought you knew.” When Ike shook his head, I explained: “Dr. Davis has been under a lot of pressure to close the school and move our departments down to New Mexico A&M in Las Cruces. A lot of powerful folks – including Elfego Baca – wonder why New Mexico Territory needs two land grant colleges. The fact that we only have eight students doesn't help matters any.”
“Ah.” Ike's face brightened in apparent understanding. “So, if we come up with something that innovates mining, Dr. Davis will have an easier time keeping the school open.”
“That about sums it up,” I said.
“Then here's to success.” He raised his glass again.
That Sunday, after church, I arrived at the school to find a small wagon hitched to a horse out front. I let myself into the building and went upstairs. There, tall, skinny Ike tried to lift the generator all by himself.
“Be careful,” I said. “You'll hurt yourself.”
He surprised me by lifting the coils and taking a couple of steps my direction. I took some of the weight and helped him carry the generator downstairs.
“You're stronger than you look,” I commented as we loaded the generator onto the wagon.
“I've been working as a mining engineer my whole life.” He shrugged.
“So, what made you come to a mining college?”
“I thought things might be a little quieter here in Socorro than in the mining camps. Maybe it'd give me a chance to settle down – get married – have a normal life.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “Of course, if the school closes after this year, I may be back in the camps.”
I nodded sympathetically. Not knowing what else to say, I darted back inside to grab helmets and carbide lanterns while Ike grabbed the light tube. We rode in silence to the base of Socorro Peak and I directed Ike to the cave I'd discovered. I lit the carbide lanterns, then led Ike into the cave and we looked around.
“This is a surprisingly large network of caves,” commented Ike.
A ways in, we found a place where the cave widened. “This looks like a good spot for your demonstration,” I said.
He nodded. “Let's go get the equipment, then run a quick test.”
Half an hour later, we had everything set up. He had me turn the crank on the generator while he held the tube. As before, the tube glowed with an eerie light. Reaching to his helmet, he turned the valve on his carbide lantern, shutting off the light.
“Do you think that's a good idea, Ike?”
“As long as you keep turning the crank on the generator,” he said with a wry grin. He looked around. “I'm going to see what's down there.” He pointed at a tunnel that led away from the entrance.
“Just don't go too far,” I said. “I don't know how long I can keep cranking.”
“Don't worry, I'll be right back.” With that, he stepped down the tunnel and out of sight.
I don't know how long I sat there cranking that generator. I just know it felt like an awfully long time. Other than the squeak and whir of the rotating magnets and an occasional pop and crackle of sparks from the coil, it was utterly quiet there in the cave.
A long, low moan issued from somewhere deep within one of the tunnels.
Without thinking, my cranking slowed. “Ike, is that you?” My voice was little more than a whisper.
The moan sounded again.
I stopped cranking.
“Ted!”
When I heard Ike's voice, I realized I'd shut off his only source of illumination. I fumbled around for the hand crank. Finally, my sweating palms latched on and I began turning it again. A few moments later, I saw a spectral glow from the tunnel Ike had disappeared into. When Ike appeared shortly after, holding his tube, I released a breath I didn't even know I was holding.
“Is there some kind of animal down there?” Ike set the glass tube down behind some rocks.
“Not that I know of,” I said, still turning the crank. “But, I suppose there could be.”
He shrugged, then relit his carbide lantern.
“Sorry about letting go of the crank earlier,” I apologized once Ike had the helmet back on his head.
“Don't mention it.” He grinned. “Just don't stop during the demonstration tomorrow.”
With both of our helmet lights on, I stopped cranking. “You bet.” I stood and we made our way back to the entrance. Just as we stepped into the daylight, I thought I heard another moan from the depths of the cave.
The next day, I met Ike back at the cave. Shortly afterward, Dr. Davis and two students–both of whom had worked in mines up by Raton–joined us. Dr. Davis wore a hopeful expression made somewhat dour by his drooping, gray moustache. I was somewhat surprised to see that Ike was packing six-guns. I supposed he was concerned about the moaning we'd heard in the mine the day before. We lit our carbide lanterns and made our way into the cave.
Six Guns Straight From Hell - Tales Of Horror And Dark Fantasy From The Weird Weird West Page 9
