Chronicles of the Vampire Hunters: Creation

by Dustin J. Palmer

The Carver Mansion

  August 1, 1994 8:12am

  "I'm trying damn it!  Stake him! Stake him!  STAKE HIM!" the voice from the basement screamed.  Anderson heard two more shots followed by some intense cursing.

  Henry bounded down the stairs taking them two and a time; he stopped cold at the bottom. John and Ben were wrestling with an old Hispanic man that looked to be in his late 70’s. Wes was checking the pulse of another man lying bloodied on the floor.

  It took Henry a minute to register what he was looking at. The elderly man seemed to be having no problem fighting the two men off. His forehead and chest were oozing a strange blackish blood from what looked to be bullet holes. Large, razor sharp fangs protruded from his mouth.

  Anderson took two steps back, "No!" he whispered. His brain wouldn’t accept what he was seeing. He knew it was impossible, but at the same time what other explanation could there be?  He couldn't even say the word in his mind. Bishop had been right. As crazy as he knew it was, there was no other explanation. It was vampires.

  "Welcome to the party, Ranger!" John said, trying to hold the vampire's clawed hands from ripping Ben’s throat out.  "Now how about giving us a hand?!"

  “FatAss is gone.” Wes said, stepping away from his dead companion. “That grunt bastard ripped his throat out. Anyone see any sign of Dozer or Diez?”

  “How about you give us a hand and then we’ll find out!” John yelled at him.

  "You two haven't finished with that old coot yet?” Wes said drawing a sawed off from its holster on his leg. He cracked it open, popped in two shells reloading it then snapped it back together. “Do I have to do everything myself?"

  “You can talk shit later, right now how about giving us a hand?!” Bishop yelled at him. The vampire snarled at John its jaws snapping like a mad dog.

  Wes holstered the shotgun then pulled his axe from off his shoulder and started to drive it into the old man's head.  At that moment, another vampire charged out of the shadows and slammed into Wes sending the axe flying across the room.  The beast fell on top of him, Wes’s hands quickly wrapped around the monster's throat keeping his teeth at bay. "Dozer!” Wes managed to get out before the beast sunk its teeth into his chain mail collar. “Get him off me! Get him off me!” He yelled out in a panic.

  John made the mistake of letting go for the briefest of seconds giving the elderly vampire enough leverage to get an arm free.  He raked his claws across John's cheek leaving a vicious slash all the way from the corner of his left eye to his mouth.

  “John!” Ben screamed out. John turned, blood pouring down his face. A rage filled his eyes that Henry had never seen in any man.  His massive fist slammed into the beast's face repeatedly shattering bone.  Black gooey blood went flying in every direction as his facial bones collapsed under John’s onslaught.  A wooden table lay on its side nearby and John easily ripped off one of its legs. Ben jumped out of the way just as the leg penetrated the old man's chest.

  Henry stood unsure of what to do for a few seconds before his instincts finally snapped. He grabbed the other vampire, the young man Wes had referred to as Dozer, by the back of his leather jacket and tossed him across the room.

  Turner’s axe was in his hand before he even realized what he was doing.  As the monster charged, he sunk the blade deep into its neck.  Dark oily blood splashed out over his hands.  The vampire fell to the floor writhing and grabbing at the axe.

  Wes jumped to his feet and with a grunt yanked the axe free from the creature's halved neck with one swing he severed its head from his body, then turned and did the same to the old man with the table leg stuck in his chest.

  Henry felt the cold taste of shock come into his body.  Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.  He had drawn and fired his gun at least a dozen times in the line of duty, but had never killed.  Now his hands were covered in blood.  He stared at the dark substance, staining his hands. The same stuff he had seen on the floor at John Bishop’s house.

  A bloodied Ben Morris walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder.  "It's never easy your first time.  But you just saved Turner’s life."

  "Bullshit," Turner piped up.  "I had him.  I was just waiting for the right moment."

  Henry’s ears rang, his heart beat like a drum and sweat cascaded down his brow. "Would someone please just tell me what the hell is going on?!"

  “Morris get him out of here before he pisses himself,” Turner said, wiping the blade of his axe on the shirt of the elderly vampire. “Any sign of Diez?”

  “No not yet.” John said, picking his shotgun off the ground. “But odds are if Dozer and FatAss are dead, he is too. Or worse, he’s one of them.”

  “I’m back here!” A voice called from somewhere deep in the basement. “Get me out of here!”

  “Diez? That you?” Turner said, shining his light back into the darkness.

  “It’s me!” He called back. “Someone get this damn thing off me!”

  "Diez you stupid son of a bitch, if I get back there only to find out you're a Maker, I'm really going to kick your ass!" Turner yelled.

  "I'm not a vamp! I swear!" Diez called back.

  "Uh huh. That's exactly what a Maker would say." Turner said picking his way through the debris littered room.

  Henry followed them through the darkened basement, their lights casting on various pieces of furniture covered in dusty white sheets. “Damn it Diez! I don't have time for this shit! Where are you?” Turner called out.

  “I’m right here.” A voice next to Henry’s foot said, causing him to jump. Henry looked down to find a young Hispanic man trapped under a toppled over armoire.

  “Get this damn thing off me would you?” Diez said.

  "You sure you weren't bit?" Turner asked swinging his axe back and forth over his head like a pendulum.

  "Boss it's me! I swear!" Diez cried out, terror filling his voice. "Please don't kill me!"

  "Geez Wes, when did you get so goddamn twitchy?" John shoved Turner aside. "Someone help me get this kid out?"

  "Just being careful." Turner said, taking a few steps back. Together the three men strained but managed to lift the armoire off him while Turner kept his pistol trained on his head.

  “Shit I thought I was dead for sure!” Diez said, dusting himself off.

  "You aren't out of the woods just yet. Get your ass upstairs." Turner replied cocking the hammer on his pistol. Diez didn't hesitate, he turned faster than Henry would have thought possible and bounded up the stairs into the sunlight. Once everyone was back outside, Turner finally lowered his pistol. Diez' shoulders visibly relaxed. “What the hell happened?” Turner asked crossing his arms.

  “Boss man, we came through the door and began searching. We made it all the way through the basement when a grunt landed on Dozer’s back. Ripped his helmet clean off is head and sunk his teeth into his neck. I grabbed hold and tried to pull him off but the dirty bloodsucker knocked me backwards into that damn china cabinet. It toppled over and knocked me clean out. Where’s FatAss? Is he okay?”

  “He’s gone.” Turner said, shaking his head. “Dozer too.”

  “Damn.” Diez said, shaking his head. “I need to take a breather for a few minutes. I mean, if that's okay."

  Turner didn’t answer but turned to Ben. "Morris, stay here with Diez and the Ranger. John and I will head back down and mop up, make sure Julia's not down there somewhere.” John nodded at Ben letting him know it was okay.

  As Turner and John stepped back inside, Ben walked to their sedan, pulled out a white towel and two canteens, and handed them to Diez and Henry.  "Here guys, wash up.”

  Diez took it without saying a word and disappeared back toward The Slayers van.

  Henry splashed the lukewarm water over his face and hair clearing it of any blood and dirt then wiped down with the towel. “Please Morris; tell me I didn’t just see what I thought I saw.”

  Ben wi
ped down his own face shaking his head. “I hate to tell you Ranger, but this is as real as it gets.”

  “Tell me everything.” Henry said, tossing the towel back into the car. “And I mean everything.” So Ben told him. He explained about vampires and hunting.  After he was done, Henry looked him up and down. "Bullshit.  That's just not possible.  I mean.  Come on?  Vampires?  That's just not possible!"

  “You tell me then.” Ben pulled the shark gloves off his hands and unbuttoned his duster. “You’re in law enforcement. I’m sure you’ve pulled your gun in the line of duty at least a few times. How many times have you seen someone take bullets to the head and keep moving?”

  Anderson started to reply when Ben suddenly pulled him out of the way as John and Turner tossed the elderly man’s headless body from the house into the yard. It was then that he knew it was all true.  The body burst into a huge ball of fire and burnt down to the skeleton in a matter of seconds. 

  "God in heaven!" Anderson said, his hand going to his mouth in shock.

  "Here Henry, have a seat.” Ben opened the back door to his sedan.

  He sat down shakily. He couldn't help but stare dumbfounded at the young man sitting in the front seat.  Ben Morris was the last thing he would think of when imagining what a vampire hunter would look like. Yet here he stood, full of courage and confidence that Henry could only marvel at him.  The man was half his age but Anderson couldn't help but feel a kinship for him.  For some unknown reason, even though they'd just met, he liked this man.

  "Look Henry I'm sorry.  I'm sorry you had to see this.  But if we hadn't gotten here when we did, one of these freaks would probably have had you for a midday snack.  This is as real as it gets.”

  “But why here? Why Midland?”

  Ben sighed, “They hit an area.  They kill all they can before anyone notices and move on to another town. It's our job to watch the papers, follow the patterns, and put it all together. It's not perfect but we kill our fair share of vampires."

  Anderson took a deep breath then cleared his throat trying to regain his composure. "But this doesn’t make sense? Why haven’t I heard of this before?  Why bother to keep all this quiet?  Why not tell the authorities and get some help?"

  Ben nodded thoughtfully.  "I'm all for it, but there's two problems with that.  One, you start spewing ‘nonsense’ about vampires and they are going to lock you up in the nuthouse. Two, the government doesn’t want people to know."

  He couldn't argue with the first reason but the second he had a hard time believing.  Henry had listened to his fair share of conspiracy nuts within Dallas PD when Jack Ruby killed Oswald, but he'd never believed any of it.  He just couldn't believe his own government could be that corrupt. "I don't believe it, Ben.  Tell me why.  Why would they cover it up?"

  “Fear,” Ben shrugged his shoulders. “Can you imagine if someone told you that your neighbor, that just happens to work nights, might be a vampire? People would go ape shit! There’d be mass murders all over the country, probably the whole damn planet.”

  “I don’t buy that.” Henry disagreed. “People are smart. Give them the chance and they’ll do alright.”

  “Oh yeah? You ever hear of a little thing called the dark ages? Or the Salem Witch trials? People tortured, hung, even burned at the stake? A single person is afraid, a group of people . . . well, that’s something different entirely. That’s called mass hysteria.  But that’s not even the only reason. I’m not saying all of those in D.C. are corrupt, but a lot of it is good old fashion greed.”

  “Greed? Like what? They’re on the vampire payroll? Come on Morris, that’s pretty thin.”

  Ben sighed loudly, “While the makeup of the vampire leadership is still a mystery, like damn near everything else about them. We do know that during their centuries of existence they've accumulated quite a little nest egg for themselves.  Enough to buy off quite a few politicians. Think about it . . . money has no real value to them other than a bargaining tool, a means to control the greedy men in office. I’m willing to bet they’ve been doing it as long as there have been governments.  The U.S. is no different.  If anything it was probably easier then what they had dealt with in the past.”

  “How so? What’s wrong with the good ole U.S. of A?”

  “Nothing. But you have to admit that a democracy would have to be easier to control than a dictatorship or even a monarchy. In the U.S., it doesn't matter if you lobby for a cigarette company or a group of blood sucking vampires.  Campaign contributions make all the difference.”

  “But they can’t all be corrupt. I’ve met some crooked politicians, but selling out your own species for a few bucks . . . man that’s dark.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Henry. Not all of them are corrupt.  While a lot of them sold out, some very important people at the top couldn’t be swayed.  The idea of something evil lurking in the darkness, that could sneak into their children's rooms at night didn't cause them to hide in fear, but to step up and do their very best to make sure the vampire population didn’t get out of control, especially with this new administration. This guy’s got it out for vamps. Hell a few years back we’d get a few bucks here and there from Government Defense funds, but today we are paid huge bounties for any vampire fangs brought in.”

  At that instant, two men in leather jackets came outside dragging two more headless vampires.  Again, they burst into flames at Anderson's feet. "So, is that why do you boys do it then?" Anderson said, taking a quick step back from the burning skeletons. "The money?"

  John walked outside and handed Henry a pair of long teeth.  "Here," he said, dropping them into his hand.  "You earned them."

  Henry looked down at his hand confused. “What’s this?” he asked looking them over.

  “About ten thousand dollars,” John said, before walking back into the house.

  “Is he serious?” Henry asked Ben, his eyes never leaving the fangs in his palm.

  “Those are grunt fangs. Worth about five grand a piece.”

  “Damn!” Henry said, his eyes growing big. “You weren’t kidding!"

  "To answer your question, yes, some of us do it for the cash.” Ben admitted, motioning to the bikers walking back into the house. “Not that I have anything against making money, but some of these guys cut a lot of corners to make a buck.”

  “How long has this been going on? Hunters I mean?” Henry asked, his eyes following the two men back into the house.

  “As long as there have been vamps is my guess. No one really knows exactly how long they’ve been around.  Some say they've been around for thousands of years.  Others say they've always been here, hunting man from the very beginning.” 

  “So how do you kill them?”

  “Anyway we can," Ben, said his face completely serious. "They are hard as hell to kill and can regenerate entire limbs. Bullets will slow them down.  Fire most definitely does some serious damage, but you usually end up setting everything else on fire in the process. The only sure way to kill one is to stake its heart, cut its head off and put its remains in direct sunlight. Even the tiniest bit of UV light will slow their regeneration; direct contact with sunlight will stop it altogether.”

  Four more bodies were thrown into the pile of ash and bones, each one burst into flame. John walked back out with his own set of teeth in his hand. "God damnit! She's not here!" He kicked one of the charred skulls across the yard where it shattered into ash. Angrily he walked over to their truck and stared at his mangled face in the mirror.  "Son of a bitch!" he yelled out.  "Why didn't someone tell me the bastard damn near ripped my face off?"

  "That's what you get for letting him get the drop on you.  It's your own damn fault." Diez said, coming back from the white van. “Has-been.” he added stepping past John. John in one swift motion turned and punched the man square in the face breaking his nose and knocking him to the ground. He was out cold.

  Wes Turner wal
ked out and looked at his friend on the ground, “What the hell happened to Diez?”

  “He called John a has-been,” Ben answered.

  “You stupid son of a bitch,” Turner said, giving Diez a hard kick to the ribs. “That has-been just staked the grunt that nearly had you for dinner. Show a little respect!”

  “We’ve got a survivor!” A voice called from inside the house.

  Everyone including Henry charged back into the house. Their gazes fell on the top of the stairs where a rickety wooden ladder stood leading to the attic. A woman’s high-pitched scream filled the small space above. John pushed passed everyone and climbed to the top of the ladder. Henry was right behind him. What he found wasn’t what he’d been expecting. It was a woman with her shirt ripped completely away exposing her breasts. Her long blood soaked blond hair hung down past her shoulders. She was bound with wire to a large post running through the middle of the room. Black blood poured from her mouth and nose. Wounds all over her were oozing blood.

  “Let me go!” She screamed out in an inhuman voice. “You hunter bastards! I’ll kill you all!”

  “Kelly?” Henry said, recognizing her voice.

  “I swear I will rip your balls off if you don’t let me out of here!”

  “Well . . . in that case, let’s untie her boys! Time to go home!” Wes Turner said, sarcastically. “My you're a feisty one aren't you sweetheart! And look at that rack! Boy howdy!" Turner's crew laughed and whistled. It turned Henry's stomach. These were some sick, sick men. "So how’d you boys manage to take her alive?” Turner asked.

  “It was the big Indian.” One of Turner’s men motioned toward the Native American Henry had seen earlier that day. He was kneeling in the corner with his .44 Smith and Wesson pointed at her head.

  “We came up here and he had her pinned to that post with that big lance of his. He jabbed her right in the throat, nearly cut her head clean off! So quick as we could we wrapped as much wire as we had on us around her. She’s not going anywhere.”

  “Damn fine work Slayers! Damn fine work!” Turner yelled.

  “She’s one of them?” Henry asked his voice full of shock.

  “You know her Ranger?” Turner asked.

  “Who ripped open her shirt?” John asked disgustedly, interrupting Henry’s answer.

  “What?” Tank Russell asked shrugging. “Like Wes said, she's got a nice rack.”

  John turned to slug the man but was quickly stopped by Ben. “Not now John, later.” he said. Tank stood with a long knife in his hand ready for John’s advance.

  “Come on Bishop! I hear you used to be a real badass before your wife had you neutered. Let’s see what you’ve got!”

  “Shut up Tank!” Turner yelled. “Put that damn blade away! This man’s killed more vampires than any of you little punks could dream of.”

  “Yeah right.” He grunted sheathing his blade. “You got lucky this time bitch.”

  John rolled his eyes. “You know her Ranger?” Turner asked.

  “Yeah, we met momentarily.” Henry nodded. “I thought she was a victim. Someone else these monsters had kidnapped.”

  “That’s how they get you.” One of Turner’s men spoke up. “They play the ‘please help me card’ and get you feeling sorry for them. Right up until they sink their fangs into your neck. Man I hate Makers.”

  “But why? They already had me tied up!”

  “Because they get off on it! Bunch of sick freaks.” the man answered.

  “Sick freaks?” Kelly spat out. “We’re the sick freaks? I kill for food, hunter! What do you kill for? For sport? For money? You dare call us freaks.”

  “Where is she?!” John said, stepping up, mere inches from her face. “Tell me!”

  She spat a mouthful of black blood on his Kevlar vest. “Go to hell.”

  John smiled at her. “You first. Ben . . . get Anderson out of here.”

  “What? Why?” Henry stammered as several of Turner’s men began pulling him away.

  “John . . .” Ben started to argue.

  “You’re not going to want to see this either, Ben.”

  “Don’t do this, John. I know you want to find Julia but this isn’t the way to do it.”

  “Have it your way.” Turner said, pulling a sawed off from his hip and pointing it at the woman’s foot. A loud deafening boom filled the small, enclosed space. Her foot disappeared in a large stain of bloody gore. Wes moved his aim and did the same to the other foot. The woman’s screams echoed through the entire house as she slouched forward, only the wire holding her in place.

  Henry and the other men covered their ringing ears. “That was for Dozer and FatAss. I’m going to burn their names right into your forehead.” He said, running a long knife blade across her cheek. “Right before I cut off all your limbs and toss you out into the sunlight.”

  “Where is she?” John screamed again slapping her with the blunt side of his machete. “Tell me!”

  Turner grabbed the pliers from John’s carpenter belt and latched on to one of her fangs. He yanked as hard as he could. It came loose with a pop. Kelly pulled at the wires binding her to the post. They cut deeply into her wrists leaving deep gashes in the post. Pushing her head against the post, he grabbed the other tooth and yanked even harder. She cried out in agony, blood pooling from her mouth.

  “You bastard!” She spit. “Those don’t grow back!”

  “Oh I’m just getting started sweetheart. You ain’t seen nothing yet!” Turner answered.

  Henry looked down disgustedly at the woman’s feet to see they seemed to be regenerating. He felt sick to his stomach. Ben grabbed him by the shoulder and almost pushed him down the ladder as the woman’s screams grew louder and louder behind him.

  “What the hell is going on up there?” Henry asked when they were outside.

  “You don’t want to know.” Ben answered blocking the door.

  “It looked like her feet were . . . coming back together! They can do that?”

  “Henry, I told you about this . . . she’s not a woman. She’s a monster. They can regenerate limbs, heal bullet wounds all kinds of crazy shit.”

  Even from outside they could hear her screams. “My God what are they going to do to her?”

  “She’s one of the Makers that kidnapped John’s wife. John and Wes are just . . . getting information. You see, she’s not alone there are several more of her kind in the area. So John's going to find out where the others went.”

  Henry started to say something else but Ben held up his hands. “I’m not saying I agree with it. I’m just telling you how it is. This isn’t usually John’s thing, but Turner has his own way of doing things. He can get a little twisted at times.”

  “A little twisted? Seems to me the guy is an A one psychopath! He would have killed me if you hadn’t come in. Wouldn’t he? Hell he damn near killed his own man down in that basement!”

  “If John hadn’t interceded I have no doubt that he would have killed you.”

  “That sick sadistic bastard.” Henry said, shaking his head in disgust.

  “Come on Ranger. Let’s get you back to your car. I’m sure your superiors are looking for you.”

  Henry nodded thoughtfully, his mind still in a daze. He had a lot to process. “What will you do now?” He asked looking over at Ben after they were well on their way back to his car.

  “We’ll finish mopping up the house, and then we’ll torch it. Only way to make sure we didn’t miss any. After that . . . we’ll try to find John’s wife.”

  “The arsons . . .” Henry said, thoughtfully.

  “You’ve been chasing this a long time haven’t you?” Ben asked turning into the motel parking lot.

  “Most my life.” Henry answered. “But now . . . it all makes sense.”

  “I’m sorry you had to see all this Henry. This is a world no one should have to know about.”
/>
  Henry shook off his head in disbelief and shock. This world was real. He could either let it overwhelm him, or deal with it and do what he could to help. Right there he made up his mind. “Ben, listen. If you or John need anything at all, if there is anything I can do to help find his wife or help with the hunts, just let me know. You boys saved my life. I won’t forget that.”

  “Thanks Henry.” Ben extended his hand. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Henry shook it and climbed out of the car. Ben pulled away heading back to the big house. Henry stood there watching him drive away. He had a lot to think over. Turning he looked at his wrecked car. Number one was how he was going to drive back to Dallas in a car that was missing its driver side door.

  ******