Low-Skilled Job [Vol. 2]

by Roger Keller

  The main TV, the one that Misty was playing Idle Hands on, flickered and changed.

  “Aw shit,” I said.

  Lee looked at me and opened his mouth to speak, but I was gone.

  *****

  An outdoor music festival appeared on the TV. Everything was seedy and cheap. A heavy metal band played like shit on a makeshift stage while an edgy crowd milled around. They were the kind of band that was trying to be Led Zepplin, crossed with Black Sabbath. Fights broke out in the crowd. Two mud covered girls in cut-offs wrestled for the affections of a hairy biker. A redneck shanked a hippie with a flathead screwdriver. Concert-goers stepped on the writhing hippie’s body, grinding him into the mud. Drug deals took place in the open. The lead singer caught a green beer bottle in the air, inches from smashing his face. The band played on while he chugged the warm beer.

  “What is wrong with my hunter?” Lee said from somewhere.

  “He’s having a vision,” Misty said.

  “Yeah, they’re sort of like our dreams, but he’s sort of awake,” Heather said. “Sometimes what he sees is useful.”

  Back at the concert, a still human Heather cut through the crowd. She wore a leather biker vest with nothing underneath and ripped jeans. Her hair was big, but it hadn’t reached it’s excessive Eighties peak yet. A drunk, mullet-headed redneck grabbed her arm. Heather drove a snake skin, cowboy boot into his groin. She kept moving, not even bothering to watch the redneck fall. The sun was almost gone when she checked the horizon and stroked the Randall knife on her belt.

  Lee waited in the shadows behind a tour bus, watching his prey. He sensed the sun dying behind him and moved into the crowd. Lee drew looks from the concert goers. They probably thought he was in a band, with his long hair, leather pants and black silk shirt.

  A monstrous redneck, wearing nothing but well worn overalls, bumped into Lee. He cocked back an arm the size of a telephone pole. “Little punk.” The goon was big enough to think of Lee as little. Lee caught the big man’s fist in the air.

  “Disappear from my sight, you swine.” Lee looked around as the crowd made room for another fight.

  The big man looked into Lee’s glowing eyes. He blubbered, trying to speak. “Wha, wha?”

  Lee drove a fist into the big man’s chest. Something cracked. He pushed the goon back and the crowd swallowed him.

  Lee looked at his hand as if touching the big man had defiled it. He wiped his knuckles on his pants. Heather snuck up behind him. Lee smiled, sensing her. She jumped up and covered his eyes.

  “Guess who?” she said.

  “Sarah, Alexis, Morgan, or maybe you are going by Heather again?” Lee said.

  “I use a lot of different names,” Heather said. She danced around Lee, giddy and seemingly in love. “I’ll pick a new one soon.”

  “I have changed my name a few times over the years,” Lee said.

  “I think you like, killed that fat guy,” Heather said.

  “Good, he will not be missed,” Lee said.

  “I’m getting tired,” Heather said.

  Lee nodded and Heather climbed on his back.

  “These bands suck,” Heather said. “We never get anybody good to play this town.”

  Lee carried Heather effortlessly over mud holes and passed out concert-goers. Heather played with Lee’s hair and nuzzled the back of his neck.

  “Perhaps we should go somewhere more private,” Lee said as they headed into the harvested cornfield that doubled as a parking area.

  They stopped at a 1975 Cadillac convertible. The Caddy was customized and painted dark blue, like the face of an expensive watch. Four stoners sat on the hood, passing a pipe around.

  Lee set Heather down gently before he turned to the stoners. His American accent slipped back to German. “Filthy hippies.” He moved with obvious, inhuman speed and tossed each stoner into a pile of beer cans and fast food garbage. “That is where you belong.” The stoners moaned and floundered in the trash, their buzz thoroughly harshed.

  Heather slow clapped and giggled. Lee bowed and opened the passenger door.

  “No, I uh, want to drive my car,” Heather said. “I don’t want to leave it here to get trashed.”

  “Good idea,” Lee said, satisfied with her excuse, too arrogant to see that a teenage girl was on to him.

  The scene shifted to a candlelit bedroom. Heather and Lee burst through the door, undressing each other with each step. Heather tossed her vest on the couch. Her bare, tan-lined breasts were as perky as ever. She explored Lee’s well-defined, muscular chest and undid his pants. The black leather dropped around his ankles. Heather gasped, almost imperceptibly. As if I didn’t need another reason to dislike Lee.

  Lee carried Heather to his bed. His fangs and claws were out. Heather kissed him and pretended not to notice. Her eyes were glassed over, but Lee’s control was sloppy.

  “I’ve waited too long for you, my dear,” Lee said.

  Heather moaned while grayish black claws scratched her back. Lee kissed and caressed her, dragging his fangs across her pale skin. Heather cried out when his teeth punctured the upper part of her right breast. Lee shuddered as he drank. Blood dribbled down his chin and chest.

  Heather opened her eyes and grimaced, trying to concentrate. She rested her hands on Lee’s head. Lee’s claws scratched her breasts, drawing blood. Heather inhaled sharply, enjoying being so close to death. She smiled and made her move.

  Heather dipped her fingertips in the blood running down her stomach. Lee looked up at her. Heather grabbed his hair and tilted his head back like she was going to kiss him. Lee smiled, his jagged teeth covered in her blood. Heather tapped her index finger on his forehead. In a second she’d drawn three symbols across his pale skin, in blood. Lee’s eyes opened wide and dimmed. His teeth retracted. Heather threw her head back and laughed cruelly. Lee pulled away, his eyes huge and bloody. He reached for her impotently.

  “You, bitch,” Lee said, gasping for air like a drowning fish. “What have, you done, to me?”

  Heather pushed him back on the bed. Lee lay there, his body pulsing. Heather drew the Randall knife from it’s sheath.

  “I see now. You’d better act quickly.” Lee relaxed. Smoke rose into the air from the symbols on his forehead. “Your spell is weak.”

  Heather ran her fingers over Lee’s pale, muscular body as he lay there, temporarily helpless. She sighed.

  “It would be a real waste to kill you,” Heather said. “I’ve met vampires before, you know. Still, I kind of like you.” She caressed the bite marks on the upper part of her breast. “On the other hand, you are like, kind of a dick. This better not leave a scar.”

  “There is a way to ensure that your wounds don’t scar,” Lee said. “I think you already know it.”

  “OK, fuck it. Let’s see where this goes. The party’s over anyway.” Heather looked off sadly. “Nothing’s fun anymore. But, I’m not ready to go home just yet.” She sliced Lee’s arm open and lapped up the blood that poured out.

  The change happened fast. Heather stood there, candlelight playing on her bare, blood splattered chest. Her eyes opened, glowing orange. Lee recovered just as fast. The blood symbols on his forehead turned to dust. He roared, stood straight up and hurled Heather across the room. She landed like a cat. Shiny black claws split her fingernails for the first time.

  Lee cursed at Heather in German and shot across the room after her. They circled each other, moving too fast to see. Lee struck first and flew at Heather like a linebacker, pinning her to the wall. He drew back a wickedly clawed hand. Heather tried to pull his other hand off her throat. Lee paused and looked her over.

  “It would be a shame to destroy you as well,” he said. “You interest me. No human has come this close to killing me since 1958. But, you are no longer human.”

  Lee released Heather. She rubbed her throat and glared at him defiantly.

  “So, what now?” Heather cocked her head, smiled and ran her fingers down Lee’s chest.

/>   The images became more and more jumbled as I shook my head and tried to shut them out. Heather jumped up and wrapped her legs and arms around Lee. Then they were back on the bed. They changed positions and drank each others blood while they fucked. My stomach turned.

  When they were finished, Heather and Lee lay in each other’s arms, exhausted.

  “That was a clever trick,” Lee said. “I’m not quite sure how you managed it.”

  “I knew this crooked police captain,” Heather said. “He was married to some kind of a white witch. We dealt with some traveling vampires once. They like, got kicked out of their city.”

  “You must know that I am not some pathetic vagabond,” Lee said. “How did you know it would work on me?”

  “I didn’t,” Heather said. “Shit, I didn’t even know if it would work for as long as it did,”

  “And you went ahead anyway.” Lee smiled, somehow proud of his unwanted apprentice. “You are a very interesting girl. You seem to be be quite dangerous as well.”

  Heather laughed and rubbed her face over his chest. Lee growled.

  “So, what next?” Heather said.

  “What would you suggest?” Lee said. “If you want to be my apprentice then you must obey me.”

  “Fuck off,” Heather said with a smile. “I will never obey you. I’m not a fucking slave.” She tapped his chest.

  “There are rules,” Lee said.

  “Yeah, and people like you usually don’t obey the rules, anyway,” Heather said.

  “Well, you have me there,” Lee said.

  “I’ll be your girl, for a while,” Heather said. “We’ll see how things go.”

  “I don’t know how the others will take it,” Lee said, “but-”

  “I don’t care what your creepy vampire friends think,” Heather said.

  The scene blurred and finally melted away.

  Chapter 5

  The TV shifted back to Misty’s next movie, which turned out to be, SLC Punk. I shook my head until the room came back into focus. Heather and Misty sat on either side of me.

  “What did you see?” Misty said. “You were out for a while.”

  “Yes, this interests me.” Lee sat on the arm of Heather’s couch. “What have you seen? You said my name during your vision.”

  “Ugh, I bet I did,” I said. “I saw some stuff that happened back in the early Eighties, or something.”

  “I told Lee about that librarian guy, sneaking around,” Heather said, “that’s more important right now.”

  “I really should have been more thorough when I destroyed those fools,” Lee said. “You know where this spy is hiding. Are you ready to destroy him?”

  “Sure, I’m, uh, going to need some more money,” I said. Lee’s gold coins, my first payment, were stashed in Heather’s gun safe. But, I was saving those for my exit strategy.

  “Of course.” Lee produced a fat roll of hundred dollar bills like it was nothing. “Destroy him and any other interlopers you find with him, as soon as possible. Leave the bodies, unburnt. I want our friends to see what awaits them.” He turned to Heather. “I must leave. I have a lot of work to do, fortifying my home.”

  “Can we help?” Misty said.

  “No, I do not need more dissension in my house,” Lee said. “I’ll inform the others of your status after this business is done. You and Heather will wait in reserve until I need you. Be ready.” He set his hand on the back of Heather’s neck and kissed her, right on the mouth.

  I stood up. “I need a fucking drink.”

  Lee vanished while I was pouring a glass of rum at the makeshift bar that I’d built in the corner out of ammo cans and plastic totes. I sensed him leave. It felt like some weird pressure had been released from the room. Now I was only sharing the basement with two monsters.

  “That’s kinda bullshit that I can’t go to Lee’s house,” Misty said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Heather said.

  “Yeah, Lee’s house is kind of a creepy dump anyway,” I said.

  “It’s just that Lee’s so cool,” Misty said.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “So, Mike,” Heather said, “What exactly did you see? When you said Lee’s name, it sounded like you wanted to kill him.”

  I sat down between Misty and Heather. “I saw the night you were changed, uh changed yourself or whatever.”

  “Jealous?” Heather smiled wickedly, showing her fangs.

  “Of Lee?” I took a swig and tried to wash the image of Lee’s cock out of my head. “Maybe a little bit.”

  “How much of that night did you see?” Heather said.

  “Most of it,” I said. “You adapted pretty quick. Lee, that fucker,” I shook my head, “he really underestimated you.”

  “He was in love,” Heather said. “It never happened to him when he was human. He was too busy fighting wars and going on adventures. Lee’s life in the Twenties was like an Indiana Jones movie. He really wasn’t ready for love.”

  “How old is Lee?” Misty said.

  “Marcello said he was a teenager in World War One,” I said.

  Misty did the math in her head. “That’s a long time to never be in love.”

  *****

  I woke up early. Well, I woke up before noon anyway, and headed out to kill the Librarian. I took Heather’s Suburban, since I’d abandoned my Dodge after it became evidence that could link me to all kinds of crimes, including mass murder.

  The gated community was only three miles from Heather’s neighborhood. I stopped at a big box store on the way and bought a set of blue work clothes and cheap boots with some of Lee’s money. Fortunately the hundreds were all new bills and I was in and out in a few seconds.

  I parked a few blocks from the street I’d seen in my dream and changed in the back of the Suburban. I pulled a painter’s cap on and grabbed an old tool box that I’d filled with weapons. A semi-rich homeowner puttered over to me as I headed down the sidewalk. He wore shorts and a white t-shirt with dress shoes and black socks.

  “Can I, uh, help you?” he said while he fidgeted with a pair of garden clippers. “I, I mean what are you doing?”

  “Fixing AC units,” I said, “officially anyway.”

  “What do you mean by that?” His eyes lit up. I made sure he couldn’t see mine.

  “Bedbugs,” I said.

  He took a step back and grimaced. “Where?” He rubbed his balding head.

  “Can’t say. You know, confidentially agreement.” I held my toolbox up. “Gotta check behind the baseboards and everything.”

  “That’s horrible.” He took another step back, terrified I’d infest him.

  “Well, you have a good day sir,” I said.

  I kept walking, looking for the lawn gnomes. It didn’t take long. I strolled right up to the uniform mini-mansion like I was supposed to be there and headed around back. The sliding glass doors that opened to the back yard were gone, well the glass was anyway. The door and frame was still there, but I didn’t see a single piece of broken glass anywhere. I put on a pair of latex painter’s gloves and poked my head in. All the lights were on and everything inside was perfect, just like a model home. The air was heavy and oppressive inside.

  I made my way to the basement, which seemed to be a likely place to start. The house felt wrong, defiled. I drew one of Heather’s bowie knives from the toolbox. The basement was full of holiday decorations and old furniture. I found the Librarian down there, behind some plastic snowmen.

  The Librarian was sleeping in a homemade coffin, wearing his dapper suit. He’d cobbled the coffin together out of pieces of expensive furniture, tables, chairs and part of a china cabinet. Zip ties and duct tape held the whole thing together. I kicked the glass lid off. It hit the concrete floor, but didn’t shatter.

  “You shoulda stayed gone,” I said.

  The Librarian’s eyes opened, wide and bloody. “A hunter. Is there no nadir that lunatic Hun won’t sink to?”

  I swung the bowie knife for his
throat. He caught my wrist in mid swing. Claws dug into my skin. I couldn’t pull my hand loose.

  “Motherfucker, you ain’t gonna make this easy, huh?” I grabbed the toolbox with my free hand and brought it down on the Librarian’s face. He inhaled through broken teeth and shrieked. I pulled loose and dropped the bowie knife.

  “Goddammit.” I lost it and kicked the makeshift coffin apart.

  “Mercenary bastard,” the Librarian said. “Whatever Lee is paying you, we will double it.” He struggled to his feet, fresh blood spilling out of his mouth.

  I grabbed a broken table leg from the floor and drove it into his chest.

  “Fool, a stake through the heart is a myth,” he said as he tried to pull the splintered wood loose.

  “Any last words?” I fished the bowie knife out of the ruined coffin.

  “You won’t be able to destroy us all,” he said. “You’ll get what’s coming to you.” He swayed, trying to keep himself upright. His strength was spent.

  The Librarian blocked my first swing with his forearm. The blade went clean through the bone and nearly severed his arm. I wrenched the bowie knife loose and drove it up into his throat. Blood sprayed out and covered my hand. I almost lost my grip, but I kept cutting until his throat was gone. The Librarian fell to his knees. Only his spinal column remained. I hacked through that in a few strokes. A bone shard hit me in the face, narrowly missing my eye.

  “Goddammit, this is always nasty.” I kicked his head across the floor.

  I tore the basement apart, looking for some clue to what the elders were up to. Two pieces of blocky, old fashioned Louis Vuitton luggage sat out of place in the corner. The first, larger piece, was full of brand new tailored suits, assorted socks, and old fashioned boxers. The second was full of weapons, mostly cheesy plastic guns like Smith & Wesson M&Ps, and a big box store machete. I sifted through the handguns and spare magazines and found a bone handled hunting knife.

  I took the hunting knife back upstairs and cleaned up in a bathroom using the guest soaps. The knife sat there on the counter, waiting. I flushed the bloody, latex painter’s gloves then put a fresh glove on my right hand.