C.O.T.V.H. (Book 2): Judgment

by Palmer, Dustin J.

  “Take it easy, Ortega,” Lt. Smart broke in. “We don’t know all the details yet.”

  Chef stood to his full height and glared at Ortega. Jake, Buck, Donnie, Chris, and Diana all jumped to their feet in fear for the Drill Sergeant’s life. Not that they planned to protect Ortega. Far from it. None of them wanted to be in the way of the blood splatter when it happened.

  “It’s all true.” Mr. Orwell stepped into the mess hall now dressed in his usual white shirt, tie, and dress pants. “Come outside and I will show you.”

  “Alright,” Ortega lamented. “We’ll keep this little charade of yours going for just two more minutes. After that you and the cook are losing your jobs, and these little runts are going to be running with heavy packs until the year 2005!”

  Everyone stepped outside to find three vampires on their knees. Their arms were broken at terrible, ragged angles with chains wrapped tightly around their wrists and elbows. A very large heavy tow chain was wrapped tightly around each their necks. Standing directly behind them holding the chains were four of the ape creatures.

  “Sweet Jesus!” Ortega yelled out making the sign of the cross.

  Perry’s hand went up to her mouth, Lucas turned and stepped back inside the mess hall then came out again as if when he came back out they would all be gone. Smart stood with his mouth hanging wide open.

  “Told you,” Diana smirked coldly.

  “This . . . this . . . this is impossible!” Ortega stuttered.

  “Looks pretty possible to me,” Jake said easing past Ortega. “Drill Sergeant Ortega, Lt. Smart, Lt. Perry, Sergeant Lucas. Let me introduce you to our new imaginary friends.”

  None of them, not even Ortega had anything to say to that.

  “Jake if you will give me just a minute before everyone passes out,” Mr. Orwell said walking over to the closest vampire. “There were four of them but one put up a little too much fight and had to be made an example of.”

  “Four of them?” Lt. Smart stammered. “You’re telling me there were four Makers in our immediate area?”

  “There may be more.” Mr. Orwell stared down at the vampire kneeling at his feet, a young man in his early twenties with short brown hair. “That is why my wife and two of my sons are still out hunting, that and to clean up our little mess out on the highway. Now, pay attention, this is something we all need to hear.” He slapped the vampire hard across the face eliciting a snarl. “Who are you?”

  The vampire looked up at him and spat a mouthful of black blood on Mr. Orwell’s clean white shirt. “Screw you monkey.”

  “Richard.” Mr. Orwell nodded to the creature with the thickest mane of hair.

  The beast walked over and kicked the vampire square in the back shattering his spine and eliciting a vicious scream.

  “Ladies, you may want to turn away.” Mr. Orwell warned crossing his arms over his chest. “This is not going to be pleasant.”

  In a barely human voice, “I, Richard, Son of Orwell, Servant of the Watchers, do hereby judge you as an abomination before our Lord God. It is my judgment that you be returned to the pit from whence you came.” Richard grabbed a hold of the vampire’s head with both hands and twisted violently then pulled up. The monster screamed a terrifying wail as his head and half of the spinal column came free from his body. “My judgment is complete.”

  Jake’s stomach turned sour and he couldn’t help but vomit up the popcorn and Dr. Pepper he’d had just a few hours earlier. Richard took the vampire’s head/spine and dropped in front of the next vampire. An overweight man with a thin ponytail tied behind his neck.

  Mr. Orwell stepped in front of him. “Who are you?”

  Amber and Whisper came running out of the cabin in the pajamas both holding machetes in their hands. “What is going on?”Amber screamed out stumbling onto the scene. “Oh my God!” she put her hand to her mouth.

  Whisper’s reaction was much the same. They both let out a high-pitched scream.

  “Somebody shut those bitches up!” the only female vampire said, closing her eyes tight.

  Donnie was at their sides almost immediately trying to calm them both. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He gently squeezed Amber’s hand. “Amber, look at me. It’s okay, Sis. I’ll explain later, for now I need you to be quiet and listen. Okay?”

  The vampire before Mr. Orwell shook with fear, his eyes kept turning from red to a normal brown and back again as if he was no longer in control of his bodily functions.

  “I asked you a question,” Mr. Orwell stated. “Don’t make me ask it again.”

  “Please Mister,” he begged. “Please, don’t kill me. I just got turned last month. I’m not bad like them. Please Mister! Please!”

  “Who are you?” Mr. Orwell asked more forcefully this time.

  “I didn’t . . . I didn’t . . .” He sobbed bloody tears. “I didn’t ask for this!”

  Mr. Orwell nodded again at Richard. This time Jake and just about everyone else but Whisper and Amber turned away.

  Again in that gruff voice, “I, Richard, Son of Orwell, Servant of the Watchers, do hereby judge you as an abomination before our Lord God. It is my judgment that you be returned to the pit from whence you came.” The vampire did not die quietly. He wailed throughout the entire ordeal. Both Amber and Whisper turned and vomited. Amber dropped to her knees holding tightly onto her brother.

  Somehow Jake had forgotten that she’d never seen a vampire before.

  Again, Richard dropped the remains in front of the final vampire, a young woman with short brown hair and bright tattoos covering her arms and legs. “My judgment is complete.” He crossed his hairy arms over his chest.

  “What is your name?” Mr. Orwell asked.

  “Shelia,” she stated, staring back at Richard.

  “Who is your Maker?”

  “I am a child of Brianna, who is daughter of Lord William, son of Macro.”

  “Lord William?” He smirked. “I know William. He and I were friends once. Before he sold his soul to the devil. He’s no Lord, just another abomination.”

  “What does she mean, child?” Jake asked. “I thought they couldn’t have children.”

  “They can’t,” Mr. Orwell answered. “They are monsters, abominations, an insult to God. They should not even exist. Child is simply how they refer to their . . . creations.”

  “My Maker means more to me than my birth parents could ever dream of!” Sheila exclaimed. “And as for this so called God of yours. Where is He? I’ve fed on countless thousands. Men, women, children, tiny babies still clutched to their mother’s breasts,” she smirked. “Where was your so called God then?”

  One of the Watchers, one much smaller than the others, tightened the chain popping the bones in her arms causing her to cry out in pain.

  “Peter . . .” Mr. Orwell stepped behind her and gently touched his son’s hairy hand, causing him to let out some slack in the chain. He turned his attention back to the Maker. “I take it you were the leader of the pack then?”

  “Yes.” She grunted in pain.

  “And what were your orders?”

  “Abduct the children at all cost. Kill or turn any and all humans protecting them.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To bring them back to the Council.”

  “Council?” Perry asked. “What council?”

  “You know nothing human,” she snarled. “You are not even fit to address me!”

  “What do your leaders want with these children?” Mr. Orwell continued his questioning.

  “I wasn’t told. I was given orders and I followed them. I was proud to do so.”

  “She’s lying,” Ortega said stepping up to her. “Tell the truth bitch!” he slapped her hard.

  Mr. Orwell gently pushed him back with his hand. “Please, Mr. Ortega. Do not interfere.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?!” Ortega roared.

  “Ortega!” Lt. Perry yelled.

  “Yes, LT?” he said not backing away.


  “Shut up!” She yelled.

  “Fine.” Ortega backed away angrily.

  “She’s telling the truth,” Mr. Orwell said.

  “How do you know that?” Lt. Perry asked.

  “Because. They would not feel the need to tell her. They would order and she would obey. They can’t refuse an order given by their so called Lords and Ladies.”

  Just like Tiberius said. Mind control, Jake thought.

  “You seem to know a lot about their kind, Mr. Orwell,” Sergeant Lucas said. “How is that?”

  “I’ve been fighting these monsters for longer than I can remember, Sergeant.” Mr. Orwell leaned down next to the vampire and gently lifted her head. “I only have one more question my dear, and then, we shall finish this.”

  “Then ask it, monkey.” She jerked her head away.

  “How did you learn of this location?”

  She breathed heavily staring up at the looming forms standing around her. “We did not know exactly where they were. Just that they were in this area. We’ve been watching for you in town for months. This was our first opportunity to strike.”

  “Thank you very much, Sheila.” Mr. Orwell nodded.

  “Finish it.” She snarled. “Make it quick and clean, at least give me that much.”

  “As you wish.” Mr. Orwell again nodded to Richard.

  Chef suddenly came out of the mess hall. Jake hadn’t even noticed his absence until then. He stepped up to the vampire and stared down at her then began signing to Mr. Orwell.

  “These men, women, and children are now under the protection of Ivar Ragnarsson.” Mr. Orwell translated. “You will tell your leaders that anymore incursions into this area will be an act of open warfare. If any of your kind attempt to kidnap or otherwise harm these humans again, Ivar will bring all of his forces to bear against you.”

  Chef leaned down closer where the vampire could look into his eyes. Richard and the other three creatures stepped forward protectively but Chef moved them back with a glance. After a minute of staring into her blood red eyes, he rose and walked off into the darkness. Seconds later a sad angry howl rose up into the night.

  “Do you understand the enormity of this, Vampire?” Mr. Orwell asked.

  “I do.” She ground her teeth. “I will tell my leadership of your warnings.”

  “Good. Richard, release her.”

  Richard removed the chains. The vampire twisted and turned her arms, grunting as she reset the bones. “The sun will rise soon. I must find shelter if I am to deliver your message.”

  “Then you better run fast.” Mr. Orwell crossed his arms over his chest. “You and your kind are not allowed within one hundred miles of here.”

  Without another word, she turned and jetted off.

  “You just let her go?!” Ortega yelled out.

  “Will she give them the terms?” Jake asked ignoring Ortega’s outburst.

  “She will.” Mr. Orwell nodded. “They will not return, and if they do . . . we will be waiting.”

  “Go get some sleep kids,” Lt. Smart said. “We need to have words with your friends. Then we’re going to have to go make a whole lot of phone calls. The Colonel, Sergeant Major Castle, Secretary Hernandez, Billy, everyone is going to need to hear of these new . . . developments.”

  “I’ll escort Jake to his cabin.” Mr. Orwell nodded to Lt. Smart. “Then we will talk.”

  The group grudgingly headed toward their bunks. Jake hung back with Mr. Orwell. “Is Chef going to be alright?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Mr. Orwell answered. “His wounds can’t regenerate but they will heal.”

  “What’s the difference?” Jake asked.

  “We heal rapidly but still develop scar tissue. That is why Chef lost the ability to speak. When he first left the protection of our borders he was defeated in battle and captured by that demon, Macro. Macro tortured him for days. It culminated with the removal of Chef’s tongue. Unfortunately we cannot regenerate limbs and body parts as a vampire can. Once it is gone, it is gone for good.”

  “My god . . .” Jake said slowly. Poor Chef . . . “He seemed to be more than just wounded tonight, he seemed . . . sad,” Jake said solemnly.

  “It has been decades since Chef last committed to battle. He is not the warrior he once was. Two hundred years ago he would have ripped through a dozen Makers without breaking a sweat.”

  “Two hundred years?!” Jake exclaimed. “How old is he?!”

  “He is well over a thousand years old.”

  “Wow . . . I guess you aren’t that different from vampires after all,” Jake said, regretting it the minute he said it. “Wait I didn’t . . .”

  Mr. Orwell stopped walking. “We are nothing like those monsters. We do not feed on human flesh. We do not burn to cinders if we step into the sunlight! These . . . things are abominations!”

  “I’m sorry.” Jake placed a hand on Mr. Orwell’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I insulted you, I didn’t mean it like that. After tonight I owe you and your family my life. I’m just . . . this is all very confusing and you have to understand, this is a lot to take in.”

  Mr. Orwell stared hard at Jake, “I can only imagine,” he allowed. “I accept your apology.”

  “Can I ask you something else?” Jake asked hesitantly.

  “Of course.” He said starting to walk again.

  “Mr. Orwell, who is Ivar Ragnarsson?”

  “Ivar is a son of Ragnar. The older brother of Ubbe. He is a rebel to some, and a hero to others.”

  “A son to Ragnar? So that was him in those black and white Civil War photos. Ragnar I mean. At first I thought they were just reenactment shots, but the one with Robert E. Lee . . . that really was him wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Mr. Orwell nodded. “Ragnar served under General Lee during the war. Many of us did. Of course he didn’t go by Ragnar at the time.”

  “How long have they been here?”

  Mr. Orwell rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I believe they came to these shores over nine hundred years ago. Give or take a decade or two.”

  “Were they always, um, what do you call yourselves?”

  “We are called Watchers. No, many centuries ago they were Viking warriors. Great leaders of men. Ragnar has never told me the story of how he was turned, but after coming here he and his sons lived in relative peace with the natives. That is until the arrival of the vampires. After that, a war ensued and many innocent natives under Ragnar’s protection were killed. Entire tribes wiped out. To end the slaughter a treaty was made.”

  “Were you there for that?” Jake asked. “Did you see this war?”

  “I did,” Mr. Orwell said sadly. “I was still mortal then, but I did witness it. My colony . . . my family . . . were casualties. Ivar and Ubbe saved my life. That is why I owe them my complete respect and devotion.”

  “That’s why Ragnar won’t join with the Coalition,” Jake said thinking aloud. “Because of the treaty.”

  “That is part of the reason, yes,” Mr. Orwell conceded. “Ragnar, with his sons at his side, agreed to enter into an arrangement with the leader of the vampires, a monster named Gaius. You probably know him better as Caligula. His kind would not cross or feed east of what is now called the Mississippi River, and in return we would not cross into their territory or interfere in their affairs. Another condition of the treaty was that we had to keep Caligula’s Maker, Tiberius imprisoned within our lands.”

  “Wait a minute you’re telling me you are the ones that imprisoned Tiberius?” Jake said angrily. “Why? Why would you do something like that?!”

  “Your concern for that creature disturbs me greatly,” Mr. Orwell stated. “He is after all only a vampire.”

  “That vampire saved my life.” Jake said grinding his teeth. “You all knew I was being held there against my will and did nothing until it was nearly too late! Mr. Orwell, my God, I saw you every day and you didn’t even try to help me! If the vampires hadn’t attacked, how long would I have sat there before yo
u helped me get free of that evil old man?”

  “We cannot interfere with the affairs of humans, hence our name, the Watchers. We watch,” Mr. Orwell said sadly. “However, I cannot tell you how much it pained me to see you day after day under the thumb of that miserable man. I wanted more than anything to help you.”

  “Yeah right,” Jake said sarcastically. “I can see you’re real torn up about it.”

  “Think what you want,” Mr. Orwell frowned. “I am sorry for what you went through. But the fact remains that Tiberius must remain contained. If not think of the millions of lives that will be at risk if another war breaks out.”

  “You are already at war!” Jake yelled. “I was there! I saw them cross your borders, I saw Macro’s coat of furs made from your people! The only one that doesn’t realize it is Ragnar. How many people have to die before he realizes that he’s the only one holding up his end of the agreement?”

  “You are not alone in your feelings,” Mr. Orwell said. “Ivar as well was not happy with the agreement. He often made his feelings known, which in turn led to a great rift between he and his father.”

  “That’s a plus for him in my book then,” Jake said.

  “But look at what it cost him? A hundred and forty years ago, not long after the Civil War ended, he and his followers were exiled, never to return home again. Today they are mostly in hiding in Northern California, Oregon and Washington State. They’ve been in a cold war with the vampires for decades.”

  “So if you can’t break the treaty, if you can’t cross the border, why did you come here? Why did you help us tonight?”

  Mr. Orwell waited several seconds before answering. “Ragnar sent me here as an observer. If vampires discovered your camp and attacked, I was not to intervene. However, Chef’s involvement with your organization was unknown to us. So in a sense you see, I was not protecting you, I was protecting him.”

  “Where does Chef fit into all of this?” Jake asked. “Is he one of Ivar’s followers?”

  Mr. Orwell smiled. “You didn’t think Chef was his real name did you?”

  “Chef is Ivar Ragnarsson?!”

  “That’s why I protected him. Ragnar may be angry with his son, but he does not wish to see him killed.”