Low-Skilled Job (Vol. 2): Low-Skilled Job

by Keller, Roger

  “I’m sure we’ll do fine without you,” Karla said.

  Karla stopped to claim a ring from the severed hand of a female vampire. I groaned. She held the ring up and examined it.

  “Silly girl.” Karla said to herself. “You couldn’t have possibly understood it’s significance.”

  “Why are you following me?” I said.

  Karla looked up from the ring. “I want to watch, to learn.”

  “OK, whatever,” I said.

  I let my instinct, or whatever it was, pull me across the empty production floor. Karla followed, her speed reduced to human levels by the sun.

  “You don’t behave like the other vampire hunters I’ve killed,” Karla said. “I’ve seen greedy fools, cowards, fanatics-”

  “Like the British guy you buried alive,” I said.

  “How, did you know about that?” Karla stopped cold. “How much has Heather told you about us? She has-”

  “I saw it,” I said. “She said something about you and I saw the whole thing as some kinda weird vision on my TV. The old house you lived in back in the Sixties. The bikers. The graveyard and the old Hispanic priest who knew you.”

  “You saw parts of my life, as if it were some television show,” Karla said.

  “It’s happened a lot since I started, this,” I said.

  “Have you seen Heather’s life too?” Karla’s voice turned cold, almost scary. I could imagine the outraged look on her face behind the mask. “Have you seen how that sneaky bitch became a vampire?”

  “Yeah, I did,” I said. “I’ve seen way too much lately. Some of it might not have even been real. Now quit asking about it. The last thing I need right now is to start that shit again.”

  I walked along the wall, which some likely bored, vampire had painted green. A fire door had been painted purple. Fresh claw marks marred the dusty surface. Karla hung back and watched me slide the door open.

  The fire door opened into a stairwell. Fluorescent tube lights buzzed and flickered overhead. An AR-15 had been abandoned on the floor. It’s magazine and handguard were gone. A mall-store survival knife with a broken tip sat next to the rifle.

  “Well, at least the lights work,” I said.

  I aimed my MP-5 down the stairs. Three vampires came into focus at the bottom. Two of them huddled together under a leather duster while the third rested alone in the opposite corner. A Glock sat on the floor by the loner, it’s slide locked back, empty.

  I took one of the hatchets off my belt. It was supposed to be a replica of something a peasant soldier from the 1300s carried. I hoped it wouldn’t break. If it did, well I still had the Buck knife. And Karla would just love watching me use that. I knew she was at the top of the stairs looking down on me. Her presence felt different from the three invaders, it was heavier, deadlier. Something in my head told me to run back up the stairs and kill her first.

  The lone vampire was in bad shape. One of his arms was gone, blown off at the shoulder. He wore a t-shirt that advertised some sports team. Blood obscured the logo.

  “Why did you wear basketball shorts and sandals to a war?” I said.

  I sat him up. His head flopped forward. I grabbed his curly brown hair and swung the hatchet at his neck. A few strokes and his body slumped to the ground. I dropped the head next to the body and turned to the other two.

  The couple moved under the duster. I realized they knew what was happening. They knew I’d just killed their friend and they were too weak to stop me. I pulled the duster away. A brunette female in camo hunting gear moaned. There were fang marks on her neck. She looked up at me with bloody eyes and mouthed the word, bastard. I shrugged. She blocked the male vampire with her body. It was touching. I felt kinda bad for a second.

  “This is war, I guess,” I said. “If you could, you’d tear me to pieces. I doubt you two had any mercy on all the humans you’ve killed over the years.”

  I took her head. The hatchet went clear through her neck, right into her lover. He growled and tried to stand. My next swing was off and the hatchet bit into his shoulder. Fresh blood poured out of the wound when I pulled the hatchet loose. I let him get on his feet. His sport coat was riddled with bullet holes.

  “I guess you might as well get some use from your woman’s blood,” I said.

  He swung wildly with hook shaped claws. I stepped back and let instinct take over. He slashed at me again and I caught his fingers with the hatchet. Severed digits clattered on the concrete. Blood spurted out of the stumps. The suit wearing vampire looked at his hand in disbelief. He fell to his knees and my next stroke hit him in the neck. Blood splattered across the floor, just missing my boots. I kept swinging. As the hatchet sheared through flesh and bone, I felt genuinely happy. It was sickening and terrifying, for about a second.

  At the top of the stairwell, Karla clapped and said something in Spanish. The only word I caught was estupido.

  “Fuck off,” I said. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

  I caught a flash from a room that was once a machine shop and felt the pull toward a fire door to my right. I heard Karla’s boots on the stairs as I slid the door open.

  A vampire fell on me the second I got through the door.

  “Motherfucker.” I staggered back, trying to avoid his snapping jaws. He was missing an eye and half of his face. Raw bloody muscle and bone glistened under the florescent lights. The vampire’s clothes were scorched and melted to his skin.

  I kicked the burned vampire in the stomach. His cooked flesh gave way and intestines spilled out over my boot. I pulled my foot back, unslung the MP-5 and sent a three round burst into his chest.

  “You could help if you want,” I said to Karla, while I chopped through the vampire’s neck. The hatchet struck sparks on the concrete floor when I hacked through the last of his spine.

  I searched the machine shop, which was full of clothes racks and wooden dividers that were decorated with Chinese calligraphy. A large bed occupied the center of the room. Expressionist paintings hung on the walls. Apparently, one of Lee’s vampires had converted the shop into a stylish apartment. I pulled an antique dresser drawer open. It was overflowing with women’s lingerie. Karla scoffed behind me. I pushed the drawer closed with the MP-5’s barrel, feeling just a little bit embarrassed. The room was clear, except for the monstrously dangerous masked vampire who stood in the doorway, and I knew Lee wouldn’t approve if I killed her.

  I headed for the stairwell. Karla took a few steps back, wisely keeping her distance from me. The sun robbed Karla of her unnatural speed. I could have caught her if I wanted.

  “I didn’t realize how brave you are,” I said, “coming out here with me.”

  Karla stared back from behind her mask. She brushed her cloak back. Her hand dropped to the hilt of her rapier. My hand shot out and touched the jeweled metal. Karla growled. I pulled my hand back, too late.

  I dropped the hatchet. The room spun. I shut my eyes and slumped against the wall.

  *****

  I opened my eyes and found myself back in the Thirties. Lee stood with his arms crossed on the top of a red brick hotel. He wore classic L.L. Bean hunting gear. A BAR rifle hung from his shoulder on a leather sling. He looked out over the city and adjusted the Bowie knife on his belt. Lee raised an eyebrow and turned.

  Karla appeared on the roof, holding an empty right hand up. She was dressed in customized men’s safari clothes and riding boots. A long dagger hung from her belt. She wore an engraved, ivory handled revolver in a shoulder holster. Karla fixed her short, French styled hair and waited for Lee to speak.

  “You are not foolish enough to be looking for revenge,” Lee said, the remnants of Imperial Germany still in his voice. “So, why have you come?”

  “I tried to warn them,” Karla said. “It didn’t need to end in such, spectacular fashion.”

  “They sent a horde of revenants against me,” Lee said, his eyes flashing red. “How would you have ended it?”

  Karla stood there, speechles
s for a second. “I, I told them that no good would come of it. I left for California because of -”

  “Fortunately for you, I can tell when you are lying,” Lee said. “I ask once more, why have you returned?”

  “I keep a house in town,” she said. “I came to see what became of it. I expected a smoking ruin.”

  “Like my home,” Lee said. “I was forced to burn everything. It became, contaminated.”

  “And now you have a small city to rule,” Karla said. “You came out ahead.”

  “You should tell the others that it’s mine,” Lee said. “I find myself defending this territory constantly.” He stroked the BAR’s wooden stock. “I could have used something like this when I fought Trotsky’s Bolsheviks in Poland. The Yanks really know how to make a gun, even if they did steal the ‘03 Springfield from Mauser.”

  “It should end soon,” Karla said. “Your challengers are running out of young recruits.”

  “Not tonight.” Lee threw the BAR up to his shoulder so fast that the barrel whooshed through the air. A vampire in a trenchcoat on the street below looked up and growled. Orange eyes glowed under the brim of his hat. Lee pulled the trigger and sent a stream of lead toward him.

  Karla joined Lee at the edge of the roof. The trespassing vampire lay riddled with 30-06 bullets on the sidewalk below. All twenty rounds seemed to have found their mark. Lee reloaded and stepped off the roof. Karla followed a second later.

  “You may want to hurry,” Karla said as she touched down on the deserted, Depression era street. “You could wake up the whole town with that thing.”

  Lee knelt by the twitching body. “Right through the skull, and still moving. Well, not for long.” Lee unsheathed a bowie knife from his belt.

  Both Lee and Karla spun around. A pair of uniformed police officers made their way down the street, fighting their natural instincts to flee from the two monsters.

  “That you Mista Stoner?” a mustachioed officer said.

  “Who does it look like, Murphy?” Lee slung the BAR.

  “That fella another one of them gangsters?” the larger, barrel-chested officer said.

  “Yes,” Lee said, “probably from Chicago, come to cause trouble. It’s a good thing I got him for you.”

  The officers glanced at each other and winced. The .38s on their belts would be less than useless against Lee.

  “Sure, Mista Stoner,” Murphy said. “You uh, want us to take care of this?”

  “My men will dispose of him.” Lee pulled out a gold money clip and handed each officer a ten dollar bill. Their eyes lit up. Karla smirked. “Keep up the good work, officers.”

  “Ma’am.” The officers tipped their hats to Karla as the walked away.

  A pair of vampires, the black Lewis Gunner and the Foundry Worker, appeared out of a dark alley. They wore pinstripe suits now, with matching hats like old school gangsters.

  “Marcus,” Lee pointed at the Lewis Gunner, then the Foundry Worker, “O’Malley, burn this trash.”

  “You got another one, eh,” Marcus said. “Fools just keep coming. You, uh, want me to finish this one.”

  “Why bother?” O’Malley said. “Let’s just feed him into the furnace alive.”

  “Best to take his head first,” Lee said. “So there are no surprises.”

  Marcus shrugged his shoulders and drew a short machete from his jacket.

  The scene dissolved. I felt like something was pulling me back to the present

  *****

  The real world came back into focus. I found myself sitting in the stairwell, with the point of Karla’s rapier inches from my nose.

  “Get that fuckin’ thing away from me.” I pushed the blade away with the back of my hand.

  “Was that it, one of your visions?” Karla sheathed her sword. “Did you see me?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I saw something from the Thirties. I saw you and Lee on a rooftop. You must have been remembering something.”

  “Is that how it works?” Karla said.

  “Sometimes,” I said, “sometimes it just, happens.”

  “Bad timing,” Karla said. “You were vulnerable, for a few minutes.” Karla cocked her head. Her voice lowered. “And you came around the second I drew my sword.”

  “Good to know,” I said.

  “How many are left, I wonder?” Karla yawned and stretched.

  “About a dozen.” The image of an antique-filled room flashed through my mind. Wounded vampires staggered through a splintered door. Zombie like, they pushed a highboy against the open doorway. A female vampire directed them. She wore a blue dress uniform with brass buttons, like a Russian admiral. Her vampires took their places behind sewing machines and phonographs. They wore identical black paramilitary gear, the last remnants of a larger team. They hid, clutching edged weapons, under decaying couches and dust covered furniture.

  “How long was I out?” I said.

  “Maybe, half an hour,” Karla said.

  “Fuck,” I said. “Well that’s gonna cost me.”

  “They’re waiting for you,” Karla said, “aren’t they?”

  “Looks that way,” I said. “Hiding in that storage room probably didn’t save those kids.”

  “What kids?” Karla said.

  “The teenagers Lee and Heather got,” I said, “back in the Eighties.”

  “Here in the mill?” Karla said. “Oh, I remember that night, all that wicked, young blood.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, I still have a lot of shit to do today, so.” I walked past her and headed down to the next level.

  *****

  I didn’t notice that Karla was gone until I got to the barricaded door. I checked my weapons one last time. After locking a fresh magazine into the MP-5, I kicked the highboy, which despite being heavy turned out to be the worst barricade possible. It just tipped over and hit the floor with a loud crash. I flipped the light switch. Buzzing, flickering florescent tubes lit the room, poorly. A dozen sets of orange eyes opened and focused on me.

  “Fuck me.” They was no place left for them to run. My hands shook as I shouldered the MP-5. A vampire stood, light reflecting off her brass buttons. Six inch, serrated claws split her fingertips.

  “Lee thought of everything, didn’t he?” she said. “He even left one of you bastards alive to serve him.”

  The other vampires shuffled toward the door. I jumped back into the hallway. Strange calm flooded over me.

  “We gonna do this or what?” I said. “Next time I’m bringing one of those M-60s.”

  The vampires made their move. They lurched forward all at once. I switched the MP-5’s selector to semi and shot the first one to climb over the highboy. He spun around and fell into the hall clutching his chest. The others bunched up in the doorway. I pulled the trigger as fast as I could. The vampires fell like trees, not dead yet, but too damaged to continue their attack.

  The blue-suited leader jumped the highboy and landed in the hall. She was on top of me in a second. I pulled the MP-5’s trigger over and over and sent the last five rounds into her side as she drug me to the floor. She stopped, claws inches from my throat, and crumpled like a poisoned spider.

  “Get the fuck off me.” I pushed her onto the floor.

  “Son of a bitch,” she said, trying to stand.

  I aimed one of my Berettas and fired a few non-silver bullets into her back.

  “You’re a pro,” I said, “I’ll give you that.”

  “I’m part of Master Octavio Spada’s vanguard,” she said.

  “Spada, huh?” I said. “So, he’s the one who sent you fuckers to die here.”

  “Fuck you. I’m not giving you anything else, hunter.” She rubbed her short red hair. “Finish it, or just keep talking. I’ll rip you apart as soon as I heal.”

  I selected one of my hatchets and swung-tested it like a golf club. “OK.” I checked my phone. “Already three o’clock. Shit. Time goes so fast now. How the hell does this keep happening?”

  I broug
ht the hatchet down on her neck. Fresh blood pumped out over the floor. Her brown eyes rolled up at me when I stepped on her head and hacked the last few pieces of sinew loose.

  “Aw fuck,” I said, looking over the pile of groaning, writhing vampires.

  It was four in the afternoon when I beheaded the last member of the team. He’d managed to crawl back into the antique storage room while I worked on the others. I wondered how they felt, waiting for the end, too weak to fight back or escape.

  “Well buddy, this is it.” I put my boot between his shoulders and grabbed his stringy hair. “One more and I can get the fuck out of this creepy place.”

  “Why leave?” he said. “This is your world now. You know, I, I’ve seen vampire hunters killed, back in the Seventies, a lot of them. There’s no happy ending for you.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said.

  “Make it quick,” he said.

  The hatchet severed most of his neck in one stroke. Dead weight caused the last bits of connecting flesh to give way and the body flopped on the floor leaving me holding his head. There was no blood.

  *****

  Whatever instinct drove me faded and my sense of direction went with it. I wandered, completely lost, through the lower levels of the mill. It was all that was left of the original Nineteenth Century structure. Stone archways that were bricked up before my parents had been born lined the walls. They’d just kept building on the old for decades, no time to stop production for even a day, until the money ran out. Then it was abandoned, left empty, for unnatural things to take over.

  I walked past storage and work areas that had been portioned into apartments for the undead. Classy art hung where girlie calendars and car posters once took up space. Industrial white and yellow paint had been covered with every bizarre and inappropriate color imaginable. Futuristic furniture from the Sixties sat next to glass boardroom tables from the Eighties. Some rooms were left wide open, their contents untouched and gathering dust, waiting for their occupants to return. I crossed a set of railroad tracks that led from a dark tunnel to a cinderblock wall. A couple of box cars waited there, sealed in forever.

  I ended up on the other side of the mill. Hundreds of cars were arranged there by year, in perfect rows across that part of the production floor. I could see the lights from Lee’s house in the distance. The sun was almost gone.