Around

by Glenn Rolfe

  Marcy knew the Segers. Jim had done Eddie’s and her taxes for the last five years. The Segers weren’t poor, but they weren’t the type to just up and go. They planned out everything. It was in Jim’s veins. Numbers and calculations were his world. Betsy wouldn’t take a trip to Portland without telling everyone where she was going shopping and in what order she would hit the stores to get the most out of her mileage.

  That’s why Marcy was planning on breaking into their house. They lived on Bellamy Lane. She would walk right up to the front door and walk right in. The door would not be locked. She’d be willing to bet a dime to a dollar that it was open right now. She just hoped she wouldn’t find them…dead.

  The B&E was on the docket for tomorrow. Tonight, Marcy was downing three glasses of wine and tucking herself in. She poured the first glass of Merlot and carried it to the back door, where she bolted the new Bregman Lock she’d purchased from Tim’s Hardware. The salesman, young Allan Berkoff, assured her they were the best available and most dependable bolt locks on the market. She bought one for the front door, as well. After locking up tight and drawing all the shades, she poured her second glass of wine and cut a big piece of garlic bread for herself. The word vampire had crossed her mind more than once. Ridiculous or not, it was there. She also wore her favourite silver necklace, the one with the whale pendant that Eddie had surprised her with for their twentieth anniversary.

  Finished with her bread, she skipped brushing her teeth, figuring she’d need every bit of the garlic if the creature should get past her security, and took her third glass of wine to bed. She was feeling flush and smiley. Buzzed, as Eddie used to say. He would have chuckled at her. Eddie always got a kick out of her when she drank. They did their fair share in the heydays of the dance club at the end of the pier before the fire of ’72, but when the fires and storms shortened the pier and the town got rid of the dance hall, she and Eddie called an end to their wild nights out, if you called a few drinks and a night of dancing wild, and spent most of their evenings at home. Eddie’s community events were the lone exception in the last few years.

  Thinking of her dead husband and the past life they’d shared, Marcy smiled and placed the empty glass on the nightstand next to her best silver cutlery. She lay down, closed her eyes and let the fuzzy feeling and sweet memories take her away.

  * * *

  Jesse Henderson stared out at the collection of cars and trucks in his back lot. It was getting crowded back there. Just as many of the licence plates there read Maine as they did New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Deep inside, he knew it was wrong. He’d seen the articles about the missing kids in the paper. Six of them so far, but they didn’t mention the others. He believed the devil responsible for the children was also at work here taking the folks that belonged to a number of the vehicles filling his back lot. He’d never been superstitious, but these last few nights, he’d felt more than once like he was being watched. Ever since bringing in the Boucher kid’s car, he’d been less and less excited about getting a call after dark. Early morning, once the sun rose, he was fine, but the nine-to-five overnight hours filled him with a sense of dread he wished he could puke up and rid himself of.

  He reported his suspicions to Pete but wasn’t sure whether Pete had decided he was onto something or if the officer just chalked it up to Jesse smoking one too many brain cells from his head. Probably the latter and maybe that was right. Hell, he was high right now, but be it dope-induced paranoia, bad freaking vibes or a case of a real-life serial killer stalking the shores of his town, he did not want to face the night sober. And if he missed a call or two for the next couple nights, he’d be fine with that. Let them call AAA or Red Claw Towing out of Saco.

  A call came through just as he was deciding if he was going to close up for the evening. He looked at his watch. Seven fifteen. He had an hour and a half to play with. He had time for one job. Picking up the phone, he felt a tug of regret in his guts.

  “Jesse’s, what can I help you with?”

  He hung up the phone, picked up the bandana from his desk and wiped the sweat from his brow. A call from outside the Black Diamond Pub. Ivan McKenna was hauled off to jail for the night for breaking some Frenchie’s nose. Jessie could grab Ivan’s tiny Toyota Tercel in less than thirty minutes. Quick and easy money that would see him home before the night fell.

  Small miracles, baby. Small miracles.

  * * *

  Derek rode his motorcycle toward Old Orchard Street. The police had found his cousin Kailin’s car in this exact spot. He pulled up and stopped at the end of Milton Street. Their last conversation hurt. Kailin was his best friend. He didn’t really think he was gone. He couldn’t be. Not, like, dead and gone. Maybe he’d got out to piss and wandered off. He felt the pang of hurt. He knew something bad had happened to Kailin. He’d been trying to lie to himself about it all week.

  He was supposed to be going to pick up Julie for their date, but he really didn’t feel like seeing anyone right now. Revving the bike’s throttle, he decided to hit the pier instead. He needed a drink.

  He was pulling out when stabbing pains shot through both his shoulders. His hands came free from the bike and he was pulled into the air. He watched in shock as his bike flew to the sidewalk in front of the church and fell over the curb.

  What in the hell?

  He craned his neck and saw the man who was carrying him over the top of the church.

  Man?

  Just as suddenly, he was dropped to the roof of one of the businesses along Old Orchard Street. Breathless, Derek barely had time to brace for the impact before he hit the roof and collapsed in a heap. Something popped in his knee as he rolled onto his back and grasped his right leg. Biting back the pain, he watched the man drop from the sky; long black hair, dressed in a long, dark coat and grinning like the devil.

  “What do you want?” Derek asked through gritted teeth.

  “That’s a loaded question, my friend.”

  “You’re the guy, the thing, doing all of it, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty as charged,” the man said, his hands behind his back, walking a circle around Derek.

  “You killed those kids. You killed Kailin.”

  The man had his back to him now, looking out over the city. Derek scanned the rooftop for anything he could use as a weapon. If he didn’t fight, he was as good as dead.

  “Yours is a beautiful town,” the man said. “We’ve hid in the shadows of places like it before. In Virginia, New Jersey, Massachusetts, and now here. People flock to these beachside attractions every year. There are so many that don’t belong. So many that won’t be noticed. And yet, I’ve only recently discovered how truly intoxicating it all can be.”

  There was a broken bottle within Derek’s reach. It wasn’t much, but if he could surprise this guy, maybe he could get one shot at stabbing the bottle through the sick son of a bitch’s throat. He fought past the pain in his leg, stretched out and took the bottle, drawing it to his chest and curling around it. He’d have to wait for an opportunity and since he wasn’t sure he could stand, he’d have to wait until this thing came to finish him off.

  “I’m what you’d call a creature of the night.”

  “Are you saying you’re, like, a vampire?”

  “Yes, my friend,” he said, turning slowly to face Derek.

  By the light of the Ferris wheel and the multitude of shops and bars and businesses, Derek saw its face clear as day. Piss spread out over the crotch of his ripped jeans. A face as pale as milk, eyes like two black marbles set inside its rigid features. A series of ugly bumps protruded slightly from its forehead, and the teeth…. In the movies, they only ever had the two fangs that bit into the neck to suck their victims’ blood, but this was like a mouth full of those fangs.

  It hissed at him as it made its approach.

  “Your fear is delightful.”

  “Stay away, ple
ase, stay away,” Derek cried, the weapon in his hand forgotten.

  “I am the fiend responsible for taking your neighbours and your summer devotees of sex and sun and nighttime debauchery. And in return for their sacrifice, their donation of blood and soul, they have given me more power than any creature has ever possessed.”

  Derek winced as the vampire took flight, hovering above him, gazing upon him from those endless black pits.

  Before he could blink, the monster crashed down upon him and made a sharp exhalation of breath before sitting back up and holding a pale hand to the side of its neck.

  Derek drew in his own sharp breath as he dared a glance at the bottle in his hand. He’d stabbed it. He’d sunk the broken glass right into the monster’s neck.

  A crazy grin took hold of Derek’s face. A sense of pride and one-upmanship began to course through him. He braced his free hand on the rooftop and sat up holding the weapon.

  Blood seeped from between the creature’s fingers.

  Derek tested his leg and found he could stand. It hurt, but he could do it. He took one hobbling step toward the monster when a smirk creased its face.

  “No—”

  The vampire’s grin fell as it hurled itself full force at him in a flash.

  Derek wanted to scream as its mouth of vicious fangs began to tear him to shreds. He had no final thoughts as his death swallowed him whole.

  * * *

  After sucking every drop of warm, delicious blood from the young man and dropping the remaining husk, Gabriel found himself crawling on all fours, delirious with the energy pulsing through him. He’d been fortunate the wound this pathetic human inflicted had missed any important arteries. It had punctured the side of his neck, and Gabriel knew he’d need Mother or November to help stitch it up, but the night was far too young and his craving far more overpowering. The wound would wait.

  Holding his hand over the gash, he took flight and landed behind a business below. He transformed back to his less-threatening-looking self before stumbling out and going up to the window of the first place he happened upon.

  He startled the short greasy kid at the window.

  “Jeesh, buddy, what happened to you?”

  “I need a bandage. Would you happen to have a first-aid kit back there?”

  “Yeah, we got that. Did you get into a brawl or something? You’ve got blood on your, on your face.”

  “Yes, a rather rough one at that. Could you help me out?”

  “Oh, yeah. Hold on.”

  The kid disappeared before coming out with a metal box with FIRST AID stencilled across its face.

  He handed it to Gabriel, who opened the box and saw Band-Aids and burn ointments among other things he cared nothing about. He took the gauze cloth from the bottom of the box and the medical tape. Pressing the gauze to his wound, he pulled the tape with his teeth and proceeded to wrap the cloth in place. When he was finished, he shoved the box back through the window and thanked the kid for his help.

  Gabriel shoved past the people in his way, being sure to keep away from any figure of authority as he made his way to the beach. His eyes scanned for his next possible meal or two. There were visibly fewer people here than on any of the recent nights he’d been out. Despite making sure the bodies weren’t found, the count was adding up. People had started to notice, but they would never find out it was him. Not a chance. And too many of these brainless blood bags thought themselves invincible. They wouldn’t be scared off until he’d drained half the summer population.

  Farther down the shore, he spotted a man pissing in the tall grass, his lady friend lying on a blanket pressing a wet can of beer to her forehead. Gabriel appeared next to the man seemingly from out of nowhere.

  “Hey, what the fuck?” the guy mumbled.

  Gabriel pulled him into the grass, opened wide and buried his mouth over the other man’s mouth, crunching down through the man’s lips and gums, breaking teeth. He managed to bite half the man’s tongue off before letting him go and spitting it out.

  The man was trying to scream but could only make horrible moaning noises.

  Gabriel stepped over him and slammed the heel of his boot down on the dying man’s throat. The audible crack silenced him.

  Gabriel came out from the tall grass, wiping the blood from his chin, approaching the middle-aged woman, who was now crab walking away from him in the sand.

  “Don’t leave me here alone,” he taunted the woman.

  Just before she could shriek, he flew at her so fast and hard he managed to come away with just her head in his arm. Blood shot up into the night from the stump of her severed neck. With her head tucked under his arm, Gabriel crouched over the spurting corpse with his tongue out, trying to catch the crimson droplets like a child trying to taste a falling snowflake.

  As the corpse fell back to the sand, creating a bloody puddle where the head should be, he began to laugh. It nearly scared him how funny the moment struck him.

  He was delirious and he loved it.

  When he finally managed to stop laughing, he collected both bodies and tucked them away in the tall grass. He would gather his kills later and bring them to his hiding place.

  He flew up and dropped to the sidewalk on the closest street over.

  There were normally some stragglers out this way just beyond the last of the cheaper motels and seasonal inns, but tonight, the outskirts of town were quiet.

  He was high as a kite off the three successive feedings. It was glorious. He strolled out into the centre of the street swinging his arms about and singing some old song he hardly knew. Something by The Beatles. ‘Hey Jude’. He bellowed out the na-na-na-na’s and swirled across the yellow lines until a set of headlights approached.

  He stood his ground on the centre strip as they tried to pass him, shouting something he didn’t understand. He lashed out, shouldering the back end of the car and sending it fishtailing until it stopped down the road.

  “Hey, you got a fuckin’ death wish, you stupid asshole?” the driver yelled.

  Gabriel wanted to attack them. He wanted to teach them about fear and blood and power, but his head swooned.

  The driver pulled his head back in the window and the vehicle continued. Gabriel smiled drunkenly and turned back toward home, singing the song from before.

  He was just outside the cottage when he realised he hadn’t properly disposed of the bodies. He bowed his head. He couldn’t afford to be lazy now. He didn’t need to give them mutilated corpses.

  He took to the sky. The thought of how reckless he’d been tonight was sobering. He’d have to be more careful going forward. As wonderful as it was taking so many, he didn’t want it all to end too soon.

  After fetching the headless woman and her companion from the weeds, he gathered the man from the rooftop and delivered them all to his temporary mausoleum.

  With everything taken care of, he returned home. November and Mother were waiting for him when he stumbled through the door.

  “Gabriel,” November said. “What have you done?”

  He floated across the room, his feet mere inches from the floor, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She swatted him away.

  “You’re injured,” Mother said.

  He reached up and felt the bandage on his neck.

  “Injured?” November said. “He’s covered in blood.”

  Gabriel pulled the gauze and tape away from his wound and tossed it to the floor before getting lightheaded again and plopping down on his ass with his legs crossed.

  “I may need some tending to,” he said. “Do be a good sister and help your brother out, hmm?”

  Mother was at his side. “Go, hurry,” she said to November. “Fetch my needle and thread, some peroxide and something to clean him up with.”

  November hesitated. He could see the wheels turning in her mind. An
d that look on her face. Like she was so disgusted by him.

  “Don’t just stand there looking at me like that,” Gabriel said. “Go.”

  Mother nodded in agreement.

  November hurried down the hall.

  She returned moments later with the things Mother had asked for.

  Gabriel wanted to lie down. He felt like floating, like dreaming.

  Before they could question him further about his activities, he closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Mother cleaned the wound. November threaded the needle and handed it to her. She watched as Mother stitched the gash in Gabriel’s neck. The woman worked in silence, finishing up and rebandaging the wound.

  “Help me get him to his room,” Mother said.

  November took him under the arms.

  “What about his clothes?”

  There was blood spattered all over his shirt and coat.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

  Mother said nothing as they carried him to his coffin and hefted him in.

  “Go make us some tea. I’ll be out in a moment.”

  She left the room as Mother watched Gabriel resting.

  He’d done it. He’d crossed the line again and again. November knew that her brother was responsible for everything bad that was happening to this town. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore. They needed to leave before he could hurt anyone else.

  She waited at the small wooden table in the kitchen as Mother joined her.

  “We should take him now and go home,” November said, pleading her case.

  “He is a good boy,” Mother said. “He’s just wrestling with the truth of what we are.”