Low-Skilled Job [Vol. 1]

by Roger Keller

  “So Lee uses him to slay his enemies?” Misty said.

  “Sort of.” Heather took out her kit and nodded at me. “Ron’s almost here, let him in.”

  I opened the door just as Ron was about to knock.

  “OK, man, I got it.” He pushed past me and peered into the room. “Where’s Misty?”

  “Come on in,” I said. “Make yourself at home.”

  The wood-paneled floor creaked as I walked back into the living room. Ron followed close behind me, clutching a tattered backpack. I nudged Misty out of the recliner and put a movie on. She didn’t care. She just hopped on the couch and continued fawning over Heather. Maybe she’d be happy as a vampire or a vampire’s victim.

  “This is some one hit shit.” Ron rolled a huge joint.

  I reached for it, but Heather smacked my hand away.

  “Missy goes first,” she said.

  Misty took a baby hit and giggled.

  “Lame,” Heather said. Neither Ron nor Misty sensed the edge in her voice.

  “OK, OK, let me try again,” Misty said.

  The second she inhaled, Heather’s hand shot out like a cobra snake and clamped on Misty’s nose and mouth, sealing the smoke in. Ron moved to stand up. I pushed him back onto his spot on the arm of the couch. Heather let go and Misty had a coughing fit.

  “Take your jacket off,” Heather said.

  Heather’s claws extended over Misty’s head. She puppeteered the stoned girl and repeated what she’d done to Ron the night before.

  “If I drank that would I get, you know, super fucked up?” Ron said.

  “You’d probably just throw up.” Heather examined her glass of fresh blood. “It only works for vampires.” She downed the glass in one gulp.

  Misty curled up next to Heather and Ron lit up. By this point I’d rolled my own joint. I wasn’t sure what kind of weird game Heather was playing, or if she even had an agenda at all. I lost track of what was going on and stared at the TV.

  “What the fuck’s this show called anyway?” I tapped Ron, who had sunk down to the floor at some point, with my boot.

  “I was right, wasn’t I?” Ron said. “My shit’s grown by some college dudes. They use genetics and stuff.”

  “Yeah, that’s awesome,” I said. “Look man, it’s really bugging me that I can’t remember the name of the show we’re watching.”

  “It’s that show, with the FBI agents, who look for UFOs and shit.” Ron laughed, trying to remember. “I remember watching re-runs on cable when I was a kid.”

  “We’re watching X-Files,” Heather said. “I think.”

  Looking back, it might have been a bad choice to watch something like that while high.

  “I hope there’s a Sasquatch in this episode,” Heather said.

  “Did Mulder and Scully ever get to look for Bigfoot?” I said.

  “I don’t remember,” she said. “Do you have any Bigfoot movies?”

  “Whoa, I just thought of something.” Misty sat up and grabbed Heather’s jacket. “Is Bigfoot real?”

  “How the fuck would I know?” Heather tried to hold back, then exploded into hysterical laughter. It spread to all of us, until we forget why we started laughing in the first place.

  “Dude, you should put in a Bigfoot movie,” Ron said.

  I smacked Ron across the forehead with the back of my hand and nodded at the couch. Misty nuzzled Heather’s neck. Her heavy eye make-up smeared over Heather’s skin.

  “Whoa,” Ron said.

  Heather shrugged out of her jacket and turned Misty’s face to meet hers. They kissed. I knew Heather’s lips were warm from the fresh blood in her system. I could almost taste them. Misty ran her hand up, under Heather’s t-shirt. I didn’t know if I should feel jealous or turned on. Either way, I wasn’t in much shape to do anything about it. I took another toke and sat back to enjoy the show.

  Misty kept tilting her head back, trying to tempt Heather with her throat. Ron tried to get up. I passed him a joint. Misty straddled Heather. Their size difference really hit home for me. Misty was barley five foot three. It was sort of awkward for a second. I couldn’t decide who was taking advantage of who. Heather’s warm, almost human hands ran down Misty’s back and settled on her slim ass. She looked over at me while Misty kissed her throat. Her face shifted to something from a nightmare for a second. Then she smiled and pulled Misty’s t-shirt up over her head.

  I turned back to the TV. The X-Files hadn’t aged well for me. I bought the DVD’s years ago and never watched them. I guess I was like Heather that way, squirreling away entertainment. I couldn’t find a Bigfoot movie so I put a shark movie on. The perfect kind of movie to pass out to.

  Misty’s cries of passion, or pain, snapped me back for a second. I wondered if there was going to be another body to clean up in the morning. Or worse, a new vampire to deal with.

  *****

  I woke up before the others. Misty was curled up on the couch, using Heather’s jacket for a blanket and Ron was still on the floor. Heather, as usual, was lurking somewhere in my room.

  I sat down at the kitchen counter with a legal pad and pen. The blank, yellow paper mocked me as I failed to come up with a plan. If Lavinia and her friends had half a brain between them they’d be hiding in another country. Our only hope was if Lavinia was actually stupid enough to come after us.

  I looked up to see Misty’s raccoon eyes staring at me from me from across the counter. I didn’t know how long she’d been there. She hadn’t made a sound, which was weird, since she had to cross Heather’s creaky wood floor to get to the kitchen.

  “Is she resting somewhere?” Misty wore Heather’s T-shirt like a nightgown. “I mean, of course, it’s way after noon.”

  “She’s around,” I said. “You probably shouldn’t go messing with her while she’s sleeping.”

  “This is so cool,” Misty said. “I always knew vampires were real. You know, every culture has myths and legends about them.”

  Misty went on for a while about her vampire and assorted occult research.

  “I’ve been finding out, that a lot of weird things are real,” I said. “You ever read anything about The Society of Ancient Wisdom?”

  “Oh yeah, they’ve been around since the Nineteenth Century,” she said. “It’s thought that they are an offshoot of a much older group. They study the paranormal and practice white magic.”

  “That wasn’t white magic I saw in those tunnels,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” she said.

  “Never mind,” I said. “What else do you know?”

  “Their members are really rich and well connected. Prescott Pederson the Third is a member.” Misty’s eyebrows raised and she held up her phone. “They’re saying Pederson disappeared.”

  “Already,” I said. “I knew that fucker was a third.”

  “You’ve met him?” She said.

  “I shot him.” I thought about just how much to tell her. Misty knew too much already.

  “Wow. Shit.” Misty stepped back and looked at the empty guns on the counter. She crossed her arms over her bra-less chest, as if suddenly aware of her own vulnerability. “Why, why did you have to kill Prescott?”

  “I didn’t kill him,” I said. “I just shot him.”

  “Then why did you shoot him?” Her voice lowered. “I kind of knew him. I mean he was a one-percenter, but he was OK.”

  “Heather and I went to their clubhouse or whatever that old stone building is supposed to be,” I said.

  “The one downtown?” Misty said, too quick.

  “Yeah, that one.” I raised an eyebrow. “We went there to get this book back, for a guy named Marcello. The Society trapped Heather in some kind of magic circle. Then everything fell apart. It didn’t go well for anybody. They still have that stupid book, I shot two of them and Heather ripped Prescott’s throat out.”

  “I’ve been there, their research hall. I’ve walked over that circle a dozen times. It’s supposed to, I mean, I didn’t kn
ow it even worked.” Fear crept into her voice.

  “I doubt your buddies knew it worked either, until Heather showed up,” I said.

  “They’re not my friends,” she said. “I just went there because I’m interested in the occult. I got the feeling they were just humoring me. It seemed like a rich people’s club, but I bet they were for real, once.”

  “Sure, back when they stole Marcello’s book,” I said.

  “There’s been all kinds of weird things happening in town, like murders and fires and stuff. I stayed up and talked to Heather about it, after you passed out.” Misty put her hands on the counter and pulled herself up like a gymnast. Then she lowered herself down and sat on the edge of the counter. I couldn’t imagine being small enough and light enough to do something like that without falling off the faux granite counter-top. “I knew when Ron told me how a guy killed himself here that something was happening. Then he actually met her. His friends said he was just high. I also know the news isn’t telling us everything. You heard about the house party that got attacked by some kind of occult gang?”

  “Look Misty, the less you know about this stuff the better,” I said. “Somehow, you managed to not get yourself killed last night. You might want to quit while your ahead.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Misty rolled her eyes. “This is all I ever wanted.”

  “So be it,” I said. “It’s your life. So, what are you going to do now?”

  “Heather has a job for me,” she said, beaming with pride.

  “What about Ron?” I said.

  “It’s casual,” she said. “We have an open relationship. It’s not like were married or something. Heather said he could help.”

  “Whatever, you guys can die with us I guess,” I said.

  “Not me,” Misty said. “I’m going to become a vampire.”

  “You can still die,” I said.

  “How many vampires have you killed?” she said.

  “A few,” I said.

  Ron shambled to his feet in the background. He fumbled with a one-hitter and lit up. I hoped he’d take Misty and disappear, until I needed more weed.

  “How long have you been doing this?” Misty said.

  “Heather’s right,” I said. “Time looses all meaning when you live like this. It feels like I’ve been doing this forever, or it might just have been a few days.”

  I snapped my fingers at Ron and he re-packed his one-hitter.

  “That’s not the answer to everything,” Misty said, throwing up her arms in annoyance.

  “I use whatever works.” I lit up.

  “So, what’s going on?” Ron said to Misty.

  “Heather has something for us to do,” she said.

  “What?” Ron lost it. “Am I the only one who sees how fucked up this shit is? Heather is a monster. This guy, this guy’s a fuckin’ gangster.” Ron pointed at me, his finger shaking. “Look at him, he’s got a bunch of guns laying out and everything.”

  “You have a gun,” Misty said.

  “That’s for protection,” Ron said. “This kind of stuff, what happened to us, it ain’t normal.”

  “You know, nobody’s making you guys stay here.” I rubbed my eyes and groaned.

  “What if we tell somebody, about this?” Ron said.

  Misty glared at him.

  “Fortunately, nobody’s going to believe it if you tell them about us,” I said. “I can imagine the cops faces, when you tell them about how a vampire ran over your skateboard and fooled around with your girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, but I bet you don’t want the cops coming around here.” Ron pointed at the guns.

  “Be real fucking careful what you say.” I remembered the blank, stupid look on the rookie cop’s face, when he happily searched through a dumpster for Heather’s MP-5. The cops wouldn’t be a problem, for her. “You’d need a whole SWAT team to deal with us. They’d probably kill me, but not her. It won’t take her long to find you. She’s tasted your blood.”

  Misty’s eyes widened and she smacked Ron’s skinny arm. I had no idea if Heather really could track them, but it sounded right.

  “You two go, do whatever you’re gonna do.” I tossed the still-blank legal pad at the wall. “I have a few hours to kill until sunset. So, I’m going to get high.”

  “Tell Heather, I’ll be back later,” Misty said as I pushed her out the door. Ron stood waiting for her in the hall.

  I thought about Ron’s half-assed threat and re-loaded the pistols. I stashed them in different places around the apartment. One of the Berettas stayed with me.

  My apartment was so fucked. The first time a maintenance man saw Heather’s remodeling job, I’d be evicted. I walked into my bedroom. The place felt completely wrong. Heather’s presence hung heavy in the air. I lay down on the futon and lit up.

  *****

  I woke up in time to watch Heather crawl, lizard-like, out from under the futon. It was like watching a centipede emerging from a storm drain. She’d rarely seemed more alien. It didn’t bother me. When she was clear of the futon she jumped to her feet.

  “What are we gonna do, Heather?” I said.

  “Wow, you’re up,” she said. “Weird seeing you up before me. Looks like you’re adapting, or something.”

  “Yeah, or something,” I said. “You figure anything out, ‘cause I got nothing.”

  “What was I supposed to be figuring out?” She wore one of my t-shirts, tied off around her flat stomach. She looked down at it, puzzled.

  “Misty got your eagle shirt,” I said.

  “Really?” she said.

  “Never mind that,” I said. “We still have two big problems. First, we still don’t have the book and second, we have Lee and whatever he wants from us.”

  “Lee’s not a problem. He’s gotten really lazy and disorganized over the years. We still have the teeth to give him, somewhere.” She looked around my room.

  “Aw fuck,” I said. “Don’t tell me those nasty things are lost in my apartment.”

  “We’ll find them.” She sat down and curled up next to me. “As for Marcello, if we can’t get his book, then we’ll just kill him.”

  “Sure, it’ll be that easy,” I said. “We didn’t even know anything like Marcello even existed until a few days ago. How are-”

  “You worry too much.” She purred and nuzzled my chest. “You should learn to deal with problems like I do. Just wait for things to come up and deal with them then.”

  “That’s how vampires do things, huh?” I said.

  “That’s how I do things,” she said. “I learned to live this way when I was a kid.”

  “Misty said you had some kind of job for her.” I smoothed Heather’s dark blonde hair behind her ear.

  “Yeah Missy,” Heather giggled. “So, last night we talked for a while. She knows about The Society of Ancient Wisdom. She hung out there. I told her to go find Lavinia.”

  “I figured her job was being your slave or something,” I said.

  “Jealous?” She smiled up at me.

  “Sort of,” I said.

  “We were just fooling around,” she said. “Besides, it’s not cheating when it’s with a girl.”

  “What? Wow, I don’t even know where to begin with that one,” I said.

  “I like Missy,” she said.

  “I could tell,” I said. “You know, she really wants to be a vampire.”

  “I know,” she said. “I, like, sort of sympathize with her. I woke up one morning and looked in the mirror and realized that the party’s over. It’s all down hill from there. Missy’s reached that point in her life.”

  “I remember that feeling,” I said. “But I don’t think that’s where she’s coming from.”

  “Missy has a head full of bullshit when it comes to vampires. Like, she thinks it’s gonna be some kind of fucking romantic movie. She might survive, though. She’s tougher than she looks.” Heather stretched out and tapped her bare feet on the wall. Her claws were gone and her
toenails were red. She smelled like shampoo.

  “As long as she stays away from Karla and the revenants, she’ll be fine,” I said.

  “I don’t mean that, I mean survive the process of being turned into a vampire,” she said. “I’ve only done it a few times and, well.”

  “It never goes well,” I said, “does it?”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” she said. “I met this guy, about a year after, after I became like this. His name was Mike too. He liked to be called Micheal, but I called him Mike because he was like, so adorable when he got mad. The guy was a cop before he met me. I hate cops, for a whole lot of reasons. Anyway, he used to worked down south, ‘till things went wrong for him.”

  The TV flickered to life. VHS static gave way to a scene set in a humid sheriff’s office. A morbidly obese man in a sweat-stained uniform shirt shouted at a young deputy. The young deputy, who I figured was the other Mike, looked like a knock-off Tom Cruise, way too handsome to be working as a cop. He must have really believed in what he was doing.

  “You see it, don’t you?” Heather said.

  “Not as bad as before,” I said. “Maybe it’s the weed in my system.”

  “So he realizes that his whole department is crooked and has been since the Civil War,” Heather said.

  I saw the fat sheriff and his deputies at an airfield, armed to the teeth. A small twin-engined plane landed. A tall blonde man with a MAC-10 climbed out of the plane, followed by several Hispanic men. The blonde man looked like some kind of government agent, or an agent of something anyway. The deputies pitched in and helped unload the cargo. One of the Hispanic men opened a tightly wrapped bundle with a switchblade.

  “Just a taste.” He smiled stupidly.

  The others backed away from him. The agent’s face didn’t even twitch when he opened up with the MAC-10. A dozen bullets sprayed blood over the runway as they exited the body.

  “Gawd damn.” The Sheriff took his cowboy hat off. Sweat dripped from the brim.

  “We’re down one man.” The Agent inserted a fresh magazine in the MAC-10’s grip. “We are on a tight schedule.”

  “I, I don’t understand.” The Sheriff stammered and looked around.