"Well I've got a jar of a little something in my truck that might dampen this county up a bit, and I bet that ole farmer up yonder knows where I can find a piece of dead meat that ain't been chiaroscuro'd all to death. I'll be back about half an hour after the sun goes down." With that, I turned away from the cute little fed and stomped back to my truck. As soon as I was out of earshot I pushed the Bluetooth button.
"Skeeter?"
"Yeah, I'm here. And I don't want to see no more pictures of that little federal agent, Bubba. She's scary."
"What do you mean, scary? She ain't hardly no bigger than you are."
"She also doesn't show up in any federal database. None of them, Bubba. Not just the FDA, FBI, CIA or Homeland Security databases. She don't even show up in a driver's license search, or a tax return search, or even looking at old high school yearbooks. This woman does not exist, Bubba, and that worries me a little. Who did she say she was with?"
"Some damn thing about Extradimensional, Magical and Occult shit. It spelled out 'Demon.'"
"I've heard about them. They don't exist."
"I don't think I'll bother tellin' her that."
"That ain't what I mean. I mean that when you go work for them, you cease to exist. They erase everything about you. Public records, memories, birth announcements, the whole deal. It's like you were never there in the first place."
"What happens when you retire? Do they put you back?"
"I don't know, Bubba. Nobody's ever admitted retiring from there."
"I get your drift. They're a little freaky."
"No Bubba, Jim Jones was a little freaky. David Koresh was a little freaky. These people are batshit crazy, scary as hell, and they have the full power and support of the federal government behind them. Do not screw with this woman. She is bad news."
"She might be bad news, but she's got a fantastic ass."
"I mean it, Bubba. Stay as far away from her as you can. She ain't gonna do nothing but cause trouble for you and all the rest of us."
"All right, all right. I won't screw her, I promise. Now where's the nearest steakhouse?" I was back at my truck by now and meant what I'd told Her Bootiness about wanting to get into a serious discussion with about sixteen ounces of USDA Prime.
*****
So I fortified myself for the stakeout in the best way I know how -- with a steak. Then once it got dark I made my way back to Old Man Mueller's farm and set up in the south pasture to wait for the chimichurro to make its appearance. Agent Asscheeks was all the way at the other end of the pasture, and the temperature had dropped significantly since the sun had went down. I was just about to resume bitching to Skeeter about being cold and wet after the aforementioned cow-farting scene, when I heard the goat shriek. Once I figured out what the godawful noise actually was, I started to run in that general direction. I had Bertha, my fifty-cal pistol, in one hand, and a silver-plated Bowie knife in the other. I came over a low hill and stopped cold at the scene in front of me. Or at least, as cold as I can stop. I'm a big dude, and it takes a while for me to run out of momentum. So I staggered forward for three or four more steps, but finally lurched to a halt and stared at the mess in front of me.
It was a goat-sucking all right, just not the kind we expected. You see, the chupacabra is supposed to be about four feet tall with scaly skin, and is supposed to run around on two legs like a super-sized lizard. What I saw sucking on a goat was about six feet tall with pale white skin, two long skinny legs ending in a pair of Chuck Taylor Converse high-top tennis shoes, a pair of beat up blue jeans, and a Sex Pistols t-shirt. In other words, it looked awful human, and not the least bit Mexican.
"What the hell are you?" I bellowed as I came into the clearing. Then I looked around and saw that we were not alone. I wasn't just in a pasture with a dude sucking on a goat and pretending to be a chupacabra. I was in a pasture with a dude sucking on a goat, a hot federal agent, and about a dozen pale-faced skinny men and women who looked like they were waiting for their turn at the goat.
"Crap. Vampires." I answered my own question. Well, at least I had my silver Bowie knife.
Agent Amy was standing on the other side of the circle, her sidearm in her hand. I hoped she was loaded with silver, or holy water, or phosphorous, or something that wasn't just going to get her killed. I didn't have time to spare her more than a fleeting thought, because the vampire dislodged himself from the goat's throat and flung himself at me. He was skinny bastard, but when you've got supernatural mojo juicing up your strength, speed and reaction times it doesn't really matter. He knocked me flat on my ass and went for my neck quicker than a hiccup.
Fortunately for me, I'd seen this movie once or twice before, so as soon as he flung himself at me, I jammed an arm up between his mouth and my throat. It still hurt like hell, and he was still draining my blood, but he was getting a lot less of it thanks to my leather jacket and sweater. I quit bitching about being cold and started concentrating on stabbing the shit out of the vampire straddling my chest. He had his fangs buried pretty deep in my left arm, so I jabbed my Bowie knife into his side with my right. I couldn't get anywhere close to his heart, but the silver blade hurt like a mother anyway. He reared back and let out a scream, but he had to come off my arm to do it. I punched him square in the nose with my left fist, and he rolled off me. Probably more to get away from my knife than out of fear of my knuckle sandwich, but I didn't care.
He stood up again and turned back to come at me again. I hadn't made it up past my knees, but I brought the knife around and made ready to fend him off again. I watched his legs tense and figured I had about three seconds before he was on me again. Then his head exploded. I mean, his head blew right the hell up.
I turned around to see Agent Amy holding a smoking Sig and looking over at me with a little smirk. "Nitro-tipped rounds. I've heard that decapitation works on these creatures, so I figured a headshot would be just the thing."
"It'll do, Agent Sweetbuns, but you might want to duck right about now." I finished my sentence by hurling the Bowie knife right at her. Agent Amy hit the dirt and the knife buried itself up to the hilt in the chest of a vampire standing behind her. The best part about a fourteen-inch blade is that if you get anywhere near the chest, you're probably hitting the heart. And if you hit a vampire heart with a sliver of silver, it's toast. None of the other vamps had moved, so I got to my feet and made it over to where Agent Amy was laying in a pile of goat pellets. I reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet.
She stood up, turned so we were back-to-back, and said "Thanks."
"No problem. If you'd like, I'll help you get the goat poop out of your bra."
"Maybe later, if we survive this."
"That gives me a little more incentive, I reckon."
"I only said maybe, Bubba."
"Maybe ain't a no, Agent Cutie-Pie."
"Are you always this much of a chauvinist?"
"Yeah, pretty much. But at least I'm consistent. Hell, Agent Hall, you're the first woman I've talked to in weeks that doesn't take her clothes of for money. This is like a huge step for me."
"Fair enough. Do you have a plan to get us out of this?"
"Yeah. I thought I'd shoot about eight of 'em, and I'd leave you a couple. That sound fair, or you want to shoot more?"
"I'd really rather we forego the shooting altogether if that's possible." I looked up to see one of the vampires, this one a lot older and stronger-looking than the kid that had attacked me earlier. He was standing about ten feet in front of me, hands held over his head. That's when I noticed that all the vampires had their hands up, like they were surrendering or something.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I wish to show you that we mean you no harm. My name is Norman, and this is my family." The vampire said. "May we sit?" He didn't wait for my answer, just dropped cross-legged to the dirt.
"Family?" Agent Amy asked from behind me. "Bubba, what the hell is going on here?"
"Sweetheart, I have absolute
ly no damn idea." The rest of the vampires had moved around by now and they were all sitting on the ground behind Norman. I didn't see any harm in it, so I picked a spot free of goat pellets and sat down myself, keeping Bertha close by my right hand. Agent Amy sat down next to me and a little bit behind.
"Okay, Norman, what the hell is going on around here?" I started when we were all settled. I figured I'd better get the questions rolling before somebody busted out a guitar and started singing Kumbaya.
"We are vampires. Undead creatures of the night damned to feed on blood --"
"Yeah, yeah, we got that part. The fangs are a dead giveaway. That and the aversion to silver. We know all about vampires. I want to know why you're killing goats, and why your boy tried to kill me, and if we can figure out a way to get out of this field without me killing all the rest of y'all."
Norman looked surprised. "Well, if you know about vampires, then you know Terrence was feeding on the goat. That's what we do -- we feed on livestock to slake our thirst and keep from attacking humans. When you interrupted his feeding, Terrence was unable to restrain himself and unfortunately attacked you. I apologize for that oversight. It will not happen again."
"Yeah, we kinda fixed that with old Terry. But what about the guy who was sneaking up on Agent Hall here?" I jerked a thumb over at where the other vampire was quickly dissolving to a puddle of goo. It would take me hours to get that knife clean. A while back, I'd have just left it, but the recession has hit The Church, too, and they're looking a little more closely at my weapons budget. And you should see what they've done to my strippers and booze budget.
"That was regrettable. Jacob never fully adapted to our ways here, and when he saw an opportunity for fresh human blood, he took it. I am sorry again for the inconvenience, but you seem to have suffered no ill effects. Please, let us put these past indiscretions behind us and move forward in good faith."
"Pretty words, Norman, but those past indiscretions are like three minutes ago, so let's not act like it's all ancient history. So gimme the straight poop -- what are y'all doing here and why shouldn't we just kill every one of you and leave you to rot in the grass?"
"We are a peaceful people." Norman started to say, then stopped at the look on my face. I pointed back at the dissolving pile of Terrence, and he started over. "We are typically a peacable people. We do not hunt humans, and only rarely do we hunt at all. Our standard mode of survival is to buy our blood on the black market, from blood banks or hospitals. It is rare that we find ourselves in such a rural setting as to require us to hunt."
"So why are you here?"
"What?" Norman asked.
"If y'all are so civilized and urbane, what are y'all doing out here in the middle of MonkeyButt, Florida, sucking on goats?"
Norman didn't look up for a long time, and when he did, he did something I'd never seen a vampire do before - he blushed. "We're on our way to DisneyWorld."
"What?" Agent Cleavage and I said at the same time.
"We're taking a family vacation to Walt Disney World. We booked an all-inclusive stay at one of the resort hotels, scheduled to begin tomorrow night."
"Well, Norman. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you are a hell of a long way from Orlando. About five or six hours would be my best guess." I said, exchanging a what the hell is going on here look with Agent Sexpot.
"I am well aware of that fact. What I was not aware of as we began our journey was the price of gasoline at this particular time." The vampires behind Norman giggled a little, and he flushed an even deeper red. Vampires don't make their own blood, so I wondered where the blood came from to keep Norman blushing. I figured his toes must be shriveling up a little. Or worse.
"So you want me to believe that you and your family of bloodsucking fiends were on your way to the Magic Friggin' Kingdom when you ran out of gas and cash, and now you're stuck in Wausau, Florida drinking goats and impersonating a chimichanga?" I said, shaking my head through the whole line.
"Chupacabra." Agent Amy corrected.
"Bite me." I snapped. I turned my attention back to Norman. "Where are y'all coming from, anyhow?"
"Lawrence, Kansas."
"Good lord and butter, son! You done made it almost halfway across the country, but you're gonna stop now? Why not just bite somebody and steal their wallet?" I asked.
"I told you, we do not bite humans. Under any circumstances." Norman replied calmly.
"I wanted to, but Papa wouldn't let me." A young girl vampire chimed in. She looked to be about twenty, which meant she was somewhere between eighteen and sixty thousand years old. I suck at guessing ages of undead, unaging creatures.
"So you don't bite people?" I asked.
"Never." Confirmed Norman.
"And you're not from around here anywhere?"
"Correct," said the paternal vampire.
"And once you finish your vacation you'll go back to Kansas and never come back to the South? This isn't going to turn into some kind of annual outing?"
"No. I can think of no reason for us to ever come back to Florida."
"I ain't just talking about Florida. I want you to promise me that you'll stay out of the whole South. I cover from Virginia down to Florida, and everything East of the Mississippi river. Plus New Orleans, but that's a perk. You ain't never coming back to any of those places, right?" I leaned pretty heavy on the right, trying to make sure that Norman got the point.
He got it. "Right. After our vacation is over we go back to Kansas and never cross the Mississippi again, unless it is to visit the historical segments of New York, Boston or Washington, D.C.?" He looked at me for verification on D.C., and I nodded that it was okay for him to go there and check out the museums. D.C. was some other hunter's territory.
"Okay, then." I nodded and reached into my back pocket, pulling out my wallet. "Here's a BP credit card. It's got about a grand on it, so that oughta get you from here to Orlando and back to Kansas. Throw the card away at the last station you fill up at. In a month I cancel the card, so don't think you're buying Twinkies on my nickel for the rest of your life. And if I hear of you eating anybody on the way, I'll hunt you down and feed you to my pet DEMON agent here." I nodded at Agent Amy, who smiled a vicious smile and licked her lips.
Norman looked like the hillbilly who'd just won the lottery when I handed him that gas card. He jumped up and hugged me, almost knocking me over in his enthusiasm. He also almost got a faceful of Bertha, but I realized he wasn't going to try to kill me just in time. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He hyperventilated in my ear.
Norman got himself under some semblance of control and stood up, brushing the dirt and grass off his pants. "Come, my children. Our time here is done. We're going to DisneyWorld!" The vampires all leapt to their feet and vanished off into a nearby stand of trees. I heard the repeated slamming of a flimsy door, and then the rumble of a big engine coming to life. A few seconds later, a huge RV pulled out of the forest and headed for the nearest pasture gate. Less than a minute later, the vampires were gone, the gate was closed behind them, and I was left sitting in a goat pasture with a hot government agent.
"Nice work, Bubba." Agent Amy said as she got to her feet. "I thought for sure that was going to end in bloodshed."
"Yeah and I was pretty worried that most of the blood shed was going to be mine." I retrieved my knife from the now-dissolved vampire corpse and wiped it off as best I could on the grass.
"But you managed to resolve the situation without killing all of the supernatural beasts. How often does that happen?"
"Not as often as I'd like, but sometimes." She gave me a strange look, and I went on. "You gotta understand, Agent Hall. I don't want to kill all the freaks in the world, just all the ones that hurt people. If they don't hurt people, then I don't hurt them."
"Live and let live?" The pretty agent asked.
"Something like that. Now, you want to get across the county line and have a drink to celebrate?"
"Or we could just sit o
n the tailgate of your truck, look at the stars and drink moonshine 'til the sun comes up."
"Then what will we tell Old Man Mueller in the morning?" I asked.
"We'll tell him it's top secret and if he asks too many questions I'll have to send his goats to Gitmo. Come on, Bubba. I know you've got a jar tucked away somewhere in that truck." She started off back towards the farmhouse where my truck was parked next to her SUV. I followed along, just to see what happened when that old man found our drunk asses sprawled across his barnyard in the morning with one last dead goat and a destroyed jar of moonshine. And that's exactly what he found.
Footloose
"I don't believe in Bigfoot, Skeeter!"
"I don't think Bigfoot believes in you, either, Bubba. And I don't care if you believe in him, or it, or whatever you wanna call it, I just need you to go out to Virginia and see if it's really Bigfoot breaking into vacation houses, or if it's just some fat kid with a mullet."
"Fine, but if I hear one Harry and the goddamn Hendersons joke outta you I'm telling Uncle Father Joe about you drinking the communion wine."
"Bubba! I was fifteen! That was a long time ago!"
"I might leave out a few details. Like how old you were when you were filching the communion wine."
"Okay, okay. I promise not to make any joke about you and Bigfoot. Now do you want to hear the details of the case or not?"
I didn't, really. I'd been promised a week on the lake and all the beer I could drink after clearing up a little matter of a vampire nest masquerading as a chupacabra thing in Florida a few days ago. I made it back home just in time to do laundry and get the boat gassed up, then Skeeter ruined my plans. I swear, sometimes it's like he's more my wife than my damn handler. Of course, back when I had a wife she was a damn sight prettier than Skeeter. Bigger boobs, too. But that's a road I try not to let myself go down too often.
Scattered, Smothered and Chunked - Bubba the Monster Hunter Season 1 Page 16
