"Seriously?" Jake asked surprised. "In all these years they've never had any women hunters?"
"Nope. Kind of a tradition I guess. The women stay behind while the men hunt."
"That's the way it should be," Buck piped in. "A woman's place is in the kitchen."
"Buck, man could you be any more of an asshole?” Jake said, shaking his head. “I mean seriously dude.”
"Go to hell momma's boy," he said, sitting up and taking a swig from his canteen then spit a mouthful of water in Jakes direction.
"What Amber sees in you is beyond me," Donnie said, stretching his back. "I'll never understand that mystery."
"Yeah, what is the deal with that?" Jake said, glad for the chance to address something that had been bothering him since he got there.
"Who knows?" Donnie sighed. "She said, something about no one knowing the real Buck. Is that true? Is there a big cuddly, nice Buck under that hard skin of yours?"
Buck flipped him the finger as he stood and walked to the outhouse. When the door was closed, Jake quietly asked the others. "What's his deal? You guys have known him for a while right? Why's he such a jerk?"
"Well, for one his dad’s a psychopath," Chris said, lying back on the ground.
"Yeah. You think Buck's bad; Bloody Wes Turner is a real piece of work,” Donnie added.
“I heard he likes to keep vamps alive for a few days. Torturing them,” said Chris.
“Shoot, that’s nothing. I heard one time he accidentally wiped out an entire family.” Donnie said, “just burst into a house guns blazing.”
“You serious?” Jake asked thinking back to everything Cort had said about him. “I know for a fact he’s into torture, but killing civilians? My dad said that was just a rumor some guy that Turner beat in poker started.”
Donnie shrugged. “Just telling you what I heard.”
"So what's next?" Chris asked, changing the subject.
Again Donnie shrugged, "who the hell knows. These guys are the biggest bunch of hard asses I’ve ever seen. Castle is hard as nails but he's fair; Ortega's a freaking lunatic! Lucas . . . Lucas is the worst. Once we start hand-to-hand combat, you will see what pain really is. He doesn't hold back. Word is he even dropped your old man once, Jake."
"You're kidding me? He's like what 5'9"? 5'10" maybe? Dad's like 6'6"!"
"That’s what my Grandpa said."
"Man that's crazy."
"Yep. Welcome to the wonderful world of Vampire Hunting! The working conditions are the most dangerous on the planet, the hours suck, there are no benefits, no health insurance or retirement plan, but hey, the money is good! Not to mention you get to meet all kinds of crazy military guys."
"Holy crap! I just thought of something!" Chris said, laughing.
"What? What is it?" Jake said, giving him a quizzical look.
"You know who Lucas reminds me of? Who he looks like?"
"Who?" Donnie asked a smile coming to his face.
"He looks like the guy from Rocky!"
"Holy crap he's right!” Donnie said, bursting into laughter. “He looks just like Apollo Creed!"
The three boys laughed together until Buck came out slamming the door of the outhouse. "What's so funny?" he said, looking around.
"Nothing," Chris said.
"Ah come on it doesn't stink that bad!" Buck said, looking behind him at the outhouse. The three boys laughed even harder. "Screw you guys," Buck said, walking away.
Lucas walked up instantly stopping the laughter. "Alright kiddies, it's time to get back to work."
Minutes later the group was seated on one side of a small circle not far from the main house. A few minutes later a beautiful woman with short blond hair, that could only be Lt. Perry brought a very tired looking group of girls up to join the boys. Jake noticed Diana looking at him, trying to fix her messy head of hair.
Guess she’s over being mad at me, Jake thought.
After everyone was seated, Lucas began the lesson. "Well boys and girls you've all spent your first day with some light training . . .”
Light training?! Jake thought.
“But I guarantee you haven’t seen anything yet.” Sergeant Lucas walked around the ring. “I am going to teach you how to not only defend yourselves, but also how to royally kick some ass. It's not going to be fun, it's sure not going to be easy, but I promise you, if you give a hundred and ten percent, work harder than you ever thought possible, and turn your body into a piece of iron, you will be one of the deadliest creatures on the face of the Earth. Does anyone have any questions?"
Jake raised his hand. Lucas acknowledged him with a nod. "Not meaning any disrespect Sergeant, but what good are fists against Vampires?"
"That's a very good question Bishop. Punching a Vampire is like punching a brick wall. They regenerate broken bones, bullet wounds and just about every type of injury you can give them. So like Bishop said, what's the point? Does anyone have an answer?"
He waited several long seconds until Donnie raised his hand. "Because Sergeant, even bricks can be broken."
"That's right Williams. And that's exactly what I'm going to train you to do. I will teach you to use everything in your environment as a weapon. When I'm done with you, the bricks will tremble."
Jake saw Buck roll his. Though Lucas had had his back turned, he somehow caught it. "Alright Turner. You just volunteered to be my first assistant.” Buck rose to his feet, his face going white as a sheet. "Step into the ring," Lucas commanded. "Now come at me with everything you've got! Don't hold back."
Buck swallowed the lump in his throat and went after him, swinging wildly. In mere seconds, he was lying flat on his chest his right arm pulled tightly behind his back. Lucas leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Roll your eyes at me again boy, and I’ll break it.” Buck nodded then tapped out and was pulled back to his feet by Lucas.
"Who's next? How about you Bishop?"
Crap. Jake thought to himself. He walked into the ring, heart pounding.
"Now come at me," he said, waving him on.
Over the past year Jake had learned much from training with John, but Lucas quickly taught him that he didn’t know anything. Like Buck, he too was off his feet before he even knew what hit him. One by one, each of the group was knocked to the ground. Even the girls were planted hard on the ground. Surprisingly, of them all Amber lasted the longest. It was brutal. It was violent. It was hell. But as Jake paid attention, he began to learn. By 5:30, the lesson was over and the group was utterly exhausted.
To Jake’s complete surprise, it wasn't Ortega, or Lucas or even Castle that taught their next lesson.
Cort sat in a rocking chair on the porch of the Williams' house eating a red apple. He’d cut it to pieces with his large bowie knife and then pop it into his mouth.
"Hi Grandpa," Jake said, stepping onto the porch.
"Howdy Jake. Glad to see you survived your first day," Cort said, with a nod and a smile. "Evening," he said, to everyone else as they approached.
"Good evening, sir," everyone else said.
"Ah now don't start that crap. These jokers teaching you might be military but I most certainly am not. So don't you dare start with that yes sir no sir horse shi . . . uh stuff. Okay?"
"Okay," everyone said, relaxing a bit.
"Well pull up a chair," Cort said popping the last piece of apple into his mouth and sliding the knife back into the sheath on his belt. Everyone took a seat in chairs around the porch and Cort began. "You're probably all wondering what an old coot like myself is doing teaching you young kids? Well I'll tell you. I suspect I know more about vampires than any man alive. I have been hunting them since I was fifteen years old.
“Donald, Amber, it was my old man and me that rescued your Grandpa when he'd been kidnapped back in oh, ’57, ’58? I forget which. Buck, your Grandpa Tommy was my partner for over twenty years. One of the best hunters I've ever known. Whisper and Diana, combined, your daddy and grandpa and I hunted over two hundred times together. Yep,
I've seen it all."
"If you've seen it all how come you're here and not heading out with the others? Aren't they hitting a den somewhere in Louisiana?" Buck asked.
"Because I'm old as dirt boy! I've got arthritis in my joints. I can't go more than two maybe three hours without having to take a leak! My days as a hunter are long gone. This is a young man's game. No offense ladies."
Diana rolled her eyes. Cort leaned forward picking a package of chewing tobacco from his back pocket. He dug through it then stuffed a very large pinch into his cheek. "Vampires are the most vicious killers on the planet. Many of them have had centuries to perfect their technique. They can't be bargained with, they can't be reasoned with, to them dealing with humans is the equivalent of us making deals with cows. We are nothing to them but food. And when was the last time you conversed with a cow?”
Donnie laughed.
"Now, there are two different types of vampires. The lowliest are what we call grunts. They are mindless, brainless monsters that only care about two things: Staying out of the sun and eating. Grunts are fairly easy to find. They will hunt in one general area until they are stopped; making them the most common type of vampires you will hunt. Just look for areas where a more than usual amount of people are reported missing in a very short amount of time. This usually takes some relationship with local law enforcement. Chris, your dad is very good at this. He has more connections than I could ever even hope to learn." Cort spit into a small, white Styrofoam cup.
"Now once you find a general area where grunts are feeding, you will need a good tracker to figure exactly where the bastards are hiding. It can be anything from a barn, an abandoned house, to an old school or even an old factory. Once a tracker determines where they are feeding from, their den or nest, the hunt really begins. A four to six man, uh person team. Sorry girls. Enters the house, makes sure there aren't any survivors and cleans it. Once done, unless it's in a populated area, the house is torched to the ground."
"Why do you torch the house?" Jake asked.
"Well Jake, once you've hunted your first vampire den you will understand. You will see things that will turn even the toughest man's, uh, person’s stomach. Things no one should ever have to witness. I've seen mutilated corpses, stacks of bodies. The most God-awful things you can imagine. The second reason is to make sure there aren’t any of the little bastards hiding somewhere we might have missed."
“How much can you make off a grunt’s teeth?” Donnie asked.
"Well now, it’s been a while since I’ve traded, but I believe the going rate is still upwards of ten thousand dollars apiece."
"Grandpa I've always wondered where does all that money come from?" Jake asked.
"The government mostly. Hernandez has a discretionary fund set up under some D.O.D. bill.”
“D.O.D. bill?” Diana asked.
“Yeah, sweetie. That’s Department of Defense.”
“Sweetie?” She raised her eyebrows. “Sweetie?!”
“Yeah, who you calling sweetie?” Amber cracked a smile. “Grandpa!”
Cort chuckled then sat forward in his chair. “Along with the government funds, there are a few private investors that will pay good money for vampire teeth. Some grind them up and use them as aphrodisiacs, others for medicinal purposes. I heard one man say it cured his arthritis.”
“Wait, does that actually work?” Buck asked. “I mean, could you really use it as an aphrodisiac?”
“How the hell should I know?” Cort spit into his cup again. “I’m not about to put anything from one of those bloodsuckers into my body. But if you need some help with the ladies, Buck, do what you got to do.”
The group laughed turning Buck’s cheeks bright red.
Whisper spoke up softly. “Mr. Bishop?”
“Yeah, sweetheart? What is it?”
“Why doesn’t someone just come forward and tell the world about vampires? Wouldn’t it make our jobs a lot easier?”
“Little lady, I’ve been asked that question more times than I can count and my answer is always the same. People aren’t ready for it. They are scared, fragile things that would murder their first cousin if enough people convinced them they were a threat to their cozy little lives. Some would even join forces with the vampires if it meant they could be safe. Look at Nazi Germany. People would turn in their next-door neighbor at the drop of a hat as long as it meant they could keep what they had. No.” He shook his head. “Society in general enjoys the illusion of safety. They'd rather sit back and watch their TV shows then face what's really going on."
"That's a really dark way of thinking," Amber said, “I've got a little more faith in mankind than that."
Cort shrugged and again spit into his cup. "I hope you're right. I'm just telling you that I don't see it. Anyway, I'm getting off topic a bit. Now, even worse than grunts, more deadly, more evil are what we call Makers. Makers are those that turn humans into either grunts or another Maker. While grunts can only make other grunts, a Maker can make either. Some people theorize that the Makers can even read and control the minds of those they control. Now if you ask me that's a bunch of horse shi . . . eh stuff. But one thing’s for sure. Makers are the true source of the disease, the evil . . . the possession, whatever you want to call it. They are the cause. One bite, one nibble, and you’re theirs.”
“Where did the first Makers come from?” Whisper asked again in a very quiet voice.
“No one knows. They could be mutants, or aliens from another planet, or hell they could be demons sent from the devil himself. Honestly, we just don't know. What we do know is that every culture in history has some legends about blood drinkers. From the Greeks to Romans to Vikings and Native Americans, all around the world as far back as you can go you will find vampires popping up.”
Cort coughed and spit a mouthful of tobacco juice into his cup. “Now, the thing about Makers is that they are hard as hell to find. Most times a hunter just runs across one while hunting grunts. You can’t really track them. They move around too much. But when you do find one . . . boy . . . now I'm here to tell you. A Maker is one tough son of a bitch. I've seen them literally rip a man limb from limb."
Cort gave Buck a sad glance as if his mind was wandering to a memory from long ago. He looked away then continued.
"They are hard as hell to kill. They are faster, stronger, more agile, and much deadlier than even the best Hunter. They've got claws longer than a cougar's that can cut through damn near anything. Bullets only slow them down as they tend to regenerate much faster than their grunt counterparts."
"So how do we kill them?" Amber asked.
"You've got to hit them hard, hit them fast and do the maximum amount of damage you can before they get back on their feet,” Cort said, slamming his fist into the table for affect. "You've got to cut off their heads and even that won't kill them entirely. You've got to pierce their hearts and when all else fails you throw them into sunlight. It hurts them more than anything else, even slows down their regenerative powers. You get a Maker into even a few rays of sunlight and you've got a chance. Now if you miss that chance there's a very good chance you will end up dead."
"Have you lost a lot of friends?" Diana asked.
"Yeah . . . I've lost some friends. Men I loved like brothers. Men I fought side by side with, that had more guts in my little finger than all of these drill sergeants put together. My son's wife, Jake’s mom was like a daughter to me. It never gets easier. We live a bloody, sad life. But that’s not even the worst. The absolute worst is when a brother doesn't die, he turns, and you have to put him down.
“I’ve seen men that I knew for over twenty years get bitten, then turn into raging lunatics in a matter of seconds. What can I say . . ." he spit, “it comes with the territory.”
The group grew quiet. The only sound was Cort spitting tobacco juice into his cup again. In the past hour, Jake had learned more from his Grandpa then in all their years together. He understood the old man better than ever before. Cort patt
ed his knees rhythmically. “Well boys and girls I believe that's enough for now. I've kept you all here long enough and probably scared you from hunting all together.” He smiled weakly. “So go get cleaned up and we will meet back here tomorrow. Same Cort time, same Cort channel!"
The group chuckled at his bad joke. Jake rolled his eyes. "Ah now come on that was funny!" Cort said, rising to his feet and stretching. "You kids wouldn't know funny if it bit you on the ass!" he said, laughing even harder.
Jake decided to hang back a bit; he wanted to have a few words with him before calling it a day. After everyone was gone, he sat back down across from him. “So how was your trip up?” He asked.
“Icy,” Cort said. “How about you? John told me the Ford’s heater went out right outside of Lubbock.”
Jake shivered at the memory. “Man it was cold!”
“Really? I didn’t notice. Not with my heated leather seats. I damn near had to strip down to my underwear,” he laughed.
“Oh ha-ha,” Jake said cracking a smile. “You’re funny. If you had just let us drive your Bronco down I wouldn’t have nearly froze to death.”
“Hey don’t blame me! Blame your Dad. Why when he was fourteen he drove . . .”
“Drove your ’57 Chevy into Buffalo Springs Lake,” Jake completed his sentence. “Do you ever let things go?”
“Why sure! I let things go all the time! Like that time you ate all of my potato chips. I let that go.”
“After two weeks!” Jake chided. “And technically I only ate the last of your chips. You ate most of them.”
“Nope. Whoever eats the last of something is responsible for replacing it.”
“I was twelve!” Jake laughed. “Grandpa, I swear, you’ll never change.”
“Well, when you’re perfect there is no need.”
“It’s good catching up with you, Grandpa.” Jake stood up stretching. “Now if you’ll excuse me . . . I’m going to get my hands patched up, take a shower, and take a coma.”
“Speaking of catching up . . .” Cort nodded to Amber who was now waiting for Jake at the bottom of the stairs. “Better not leave the lady waiting.” He winked at Jake.
C.O.T.V.H. (Book 2): Judgment Page 8
